Back when I was still in love.

Sometimes the hardest thing to do in the world is to take a deep breath, suck it up, wish, hope and pray for better days to come.


A big reason for my unhappiness yesterday was that I received the following email:

"The department had an excellent response, and has selected an applicant whose background most closely met the needs of the position. Although you were not selected for this position, we hope you will continue to keep The University of Oklahoma in mind as you consider your career options."

Which translates to: The job you really wanted didn't want you. Didn't even want to interview you. And in fact, couldn't even be bothered to send you a letter. No, no, you get a form e-mail.

The job was perfect for me. It was a position doing media/public relations for OU's art museum, including newsletters, press releases, event planning, etc. See? Like a glove. Well, glove didn't fit, must aqquit.

Pile on a helping of nasty traffic (NO REALLY, what was wrong yesterday?), a hyperactive supervisor, Church's being out of white gravy and you've got me in a foul mood.

I think finding a job that doesn't make you want to face punch is the new American Dream.


Boyfriend's playing his first show with Flood the Sun on Friday night. Represent. Please, all of you. Also, while I can only assume that graphic designer Casey (much like photo student Ken) made the flyer, KUDOS.

Do it again, please.

It is not normal to cry while walking back to your office from your lunch break. Because that's how badly you don't want to be at work, you cry about it. Not normal at all.

It's all downhill from here.

I got talked into working another quince on Saturday. I'm sort of glad I did, it was $130 I didn't have before and overall, the people were okay. Except for these underage thug lifes who showed up wearing jerserys and other thug life accessories, which was Coors Extra offensive because they were related to the girl. I spotted one of them, wristband-less, with a Corona in hand, and before thinking about it, run from behind the bar and yell at him about it.

"Gimme that," says Cat.

"What?" says Thug.

"You're not 21, give me the beer," says Cat.

"No." says Thug.

"Yes." says Cat.

"No." says Thug.

He proceeds to do that super annoying thing where he holds it just out of my reach, like it's a piece of string and I'm a kitten. We circle for a minute, as he increasingly gets more and more upset and more and more in my face. Daniel saw the whole thing and came up to talk to Thug. And while Thug is distracted by Daniel, I rip the beer out of his hand and run off.

SUCCESS. But, now that I look back on it, amazingly retarded. Little Cat doesn't need to be argueing with drunk Thugs. Really, what was I going to do? Hit him with my bottle opener? I think my stealing of the bottle was top game, too. Like, really, let's see how pissed off I can make this man for Daniel to deal with him. Daniel is, by the way, my guardian angel from New Jersey.

Just TRY and underage drink on my watch, Thugs.

Saturday also marked a landmark event: the first time I was mad about having to go to work since the fire. Things must be getting back to normal.

Mythbusters.

Falling coconuts kill 150 people a year.

Operation Desert Storm.

ohai, Dolly!

Hai!


Plan for the day: Enjoy a tasty bowl of soup then storm-romp. And romp, I shall. FEMA recently redrafted a bunch of flood-planes in NM, especially in Rio Rancho. So, it'll be a lot of interesting to see what happens today. Seek higher ground, desert. For pretty much the first time ever.

I applied for a job that would require me to talk about storms a lot. I think I'm one of about 5 people in the world who would actually be excited to do that.

An HBO kind of answer.

I made a most delicious playlist the other night. Like I said, send good music and days off? Well, I got one of those things. You'll guess the theme pretty easily.

1. The Weakerthans: A Plea from a Cat Named Virtue
2. Ben Folds: Carrying Cathy
3. Ziggy Marley: Black Cat
4. Bouncing Souls: Kate is Great
5. Counting Crows: Catapult
6. The Aquabats!: A Cat with Two Heads!
7. The Cure: Lovecats
8. Lucero: Katherine and Me
9. Catherine Feeny: Mr. Blue
10. Elton John: Honky Cat
11. Reggie and the Full Effect: Congratulations Smack and Katy
12. The Sainte Catherines: Get Your Politics Out of my Hair
13. The Julius Airwave: Catherine
14. Catherine Wheel: Black Metallic
15. The Honorary Title: Cats In Heat
16. Bright Eyes: Kathy With A K's Song
17. PJ Harvey: Catherine
18. Jets to Brazil: Cat Heaven
19. The Cat Empire: Two Shoes
20. Bob Seger: Katmandu
21. Ugly Casanova: Cat Faces
22. Cat Power: I Found A Reason
23. David Bowie: Cat People
24. Ben Folds Five: Kate
25. Cat Stevens: Peace Train
26. The Weakerthans: Virtue the Cat Explains Her Departure

So, I'll admit that being named "Catherine" and being called "Cat" makes this assignment super easy and versitle, but I highly suggest using iTunes to search for your name and see what pops up. You'll probably get some stuff you completely forgot about, like Catherine Wheel (and how I could forget about shoe gaze is BEYOND me) and find some stuff you'll really love, like Catherine Feeny or "Black Cat". (Notice the absense of the hardcore band actually named Catherine. That is because they are terrible. The Sainte Catherines are from Quebec!)

So, that's internet assignment for the day #1. Internet assignment for the day #2 is to youtube search "basset hound".

Hard-earned piece of mind.

There are 60 Starbucks locations in New Mexico.

If it makes you feel better (or worse), there are 2,477 in California.

The hum-drum-vee is back there.

I don't believe the feeling of pre-work dread has ever been as bad as it was this morning. Please, get me out of here. Soul is dying, send good music and days off.

The job I really, really want is no longer listed as available. This means one of two things, it's not available anymore or they just stopped accepting applications for it. I'm hoping it's the later and they'll call me and my references soon. PLEASE.

Until then, I wallow in work misery. CONOR OBERST.

I felt like I was missing a picture when I blogged yesterday. I'm glad I realized what picture it was.


DAAAAAAAAAVE.

All the good girls are home.

You see that? That flooded out sky? That means camera's quickly dying. And the picture quality from this weekend is disappointing to me. I need D-80 more than ever.

But you also see all those people? I hung out with them this weekend, all 80,000 of them.

The past few days has been an exercise in waiting. Waiting in line for the Dark Knight. Waiting for Lucero. Waiting for Tom Petty. Waiting in traffic. Marky and I estimated we waited about 18 hours for about 5 hours of entertainment. Not to say that waiting isn't fun.


We got an early (?) start on Saturday morning, leaving Albuquerque at about one in the morning. We were initially planning on getting into Raton, sleeping a few hours, then getting up to drive the rest of the way to Denver. However, Marky and Tom both slept through Lucero and since they were so well rested, we drove straight to Denver, getting to Maria's brothers apartment at about 9 in the morning. We slept a few hours, showered and drove to Commerce City for the festival.

Getting in was pretty easy, as we qualified for car pool parking and we got there early in the day, about 2:00.


Bright-eyed and bushy tailed!

We were excited to just be there, out of Albuquerque, in a new city, Tom Petty on the horizon. But, a funny thing happened in that Denver cooked. The temperature was at least 100 on Saturday. And 100 degree weather while surrounded by 80,000 is freaking hot. I had initially intended in checking out all the stages, all the tents, just sort of taking it all in. But, after I threw up as a result of heat exhaustion, I spent most of the day huddled under one of several tents in the park.


Cat-like tomato.

I think it was a combination of the heat and the tiredness, but all four of us were useless for the bulk of the day. In fact, we napped.



While Steve Winwood jammed.

After nap time and $10 burrito, I felt a little more like myself and less like tomato. We made our way to the main stage for Tom Petty, dancing like hippies through the crowd, it makes them more open to moving for you if you're dancing. We ended up about 9 rows of people back and in our hour and a half wait, we made friends with all the people standing around us. I was surprised by how many out of towners there were.

Tom Petty was, of course, remarkable. I didn't take any pictures as I've started to feel that it creates a certain amount of distance between me and the performer I'm seeing. That's one of the best parts of live music, the intimacy. I'm all for snapping a photo or two for the sake of the memory, but watching a show behind an LCD screen is a whole different game. There was this sea of digital cameras and cell phones when Petty took the stage. Don't I sound pretentious.

We played a pretty regular set, comparable to what he's been playing his whole tour. Standouts for me were the always sexy Honeybee, the Free Falling singalong (the crowd, including myself were not meant to hit some of those notes), acoustic Learning to Fly, and Marky and me screaming the lyrics to American Girl for his closing. I had a fantastic time. The crowd was fantastic and very respectful of open space, I had lots of room to bounce around. If I had to get sick and do it all over again, I would in a heartbeat.

Maria started feeling queasy during Petty's set, so she got out of the crowd about 3/4ths of the way through. She stayed with her brother, while the rest of us stayed with my buddy Sarah who I stayed with when I went to Denver last June. She was just the greatest hostess. We each got our own air mattress and we all slept so, so, so great.


We got a much later start the next day, which I think we all needed. We picked Maria up at about 2 and by then the traffic into the festival had backed up for miles. We had a good hour or so in the car to trash talk Dave Matthews and write "Stay Down" on my knuckles.


No really, dang shame it washed off before work today...


We didn't get into the festival gates until 4, so we all ran straight to see Flogging Molly, who had just started. Both me and Maria hung back, Marky and Tom got towards the front. I was worried about overdoing it. But they played a great set, including Devil's Dance Floor and If I Ever Leave This World Alive.


Their crowd. LOOK HOW DISCONNECTED I AM.

Sunday's music also included Pinback, the Roots, John Mayer and Dave Matthews. So, I don't like Dave Matthews. I think that's okay. He's one of those musicians you're either into or you're not. And I am not. But, I think 90% of my disdain for Dave is because of his fans.

And here's the funny part of going to a summer outdoor festival that Dave Matthews is playing at. THE ENTIRE CROWD ARE DAVE MATTHEWS FANS. You know who I'm talking about, the shirtless white-hatted bros with $8 Bud Light in hand, shirt tucked into the back of their swim trunks, corresponding lady friends (frat mattresses) on arm. And then there's the OTHER Dave fans, the hippies/yuppies, with Teva sandals and broom skirt.

So, after wading through them for two days, nothing gave us more pleasure than to leave before Dave played. On our way out, we saw this dude passed out in the parking lot, curled around a car tire.


Maria: "He's gonna miss Dave!"

We then spent 20 minutes trying to get to the Church's Chicken that appeared to be across the street from the park and hit the road. We got push pops at a gas station, as per Cat and Marky tradition. I tried to take a picture of us with our push pops, but that turned into a giant fail.

Fail #1.


Fail #2.


And my personal favorite, Fail #3.


We got home at about 5:30 yesterday morning and poor Maria had work at 8:30. The rest of us slackers took Monday off.

So far this year, I have seen the following live:

1. Ben Folds
2. Hot Water Music
3. Strung Out
4. Saves the Day
5. Rancid
6. Lucero
7. Tom Petty
8. Flogging Molly
Among others.

That is AWESOME.

And still to come:

1. NOFX/Bouncing Souls
2. Counting Crows
3. Ben Folds, again. I want to go to a symphony date, he's doing a few back east in the fall.

That's just as AWESOME.

Someone's dad totally owns a dealership.

Back. I feel disjointed today, overwhelmingly incomplete. I don't know if it's just trip-high already wearing off, the despair of returning to desk tomorrow, or Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker, but something's making my brain misfire in some capacity.

This mood prompted me to run out to Target and spend too much on new bedding, so now my mattress is supporting a den of comfort. I might not ever leave, might have been a bad move.


Blog on Petty pilgrimage is coming. As is Dark Knight re-cap (really just about the Watchmen trailer, I do believe everything that could have been written about DN has been). Be patient bloglings, I need to have at least some reason to show up to work tomorrow (other than to read about 400 back entries of ohnotheydidnt). But, I'll leave you with this as a teaser trailer:

Smashing blankets into swings.

Why exactly is the Weather Channel so soothing? Maybe it's the gentle lull of the pretty colored satellite images swirling and and moving repeatedly, the fantastic graphics for "partly cloudy". Even when it's talking about the most catastrophic storm to hit in decades, the smooth jazz still makes you go, "Aww, everything will be okay."


This isn't a joke.

Or maybe the Weather Channel should be more like a horror movie and as the storm gets closer, the music gets more dramatic. Kind of like that marching music CNN plays whenever they're covering a really dramatic story.

Toknight, it's Dark. I think every person in Albuquerque will be going to Century 24 tonight, so I look forward to seeing you all. My giant movie posse for the 12:02 includes full Geeks Who Drink team, my own personal superheroes known as Casey & Ashley, as well as Angie, who's coming all the way from Las Alamos for the festivities. We are strong, we are mighty. We're missing one very, very, very important figure, so if anyone has a ticket for 12:02 they're willing to give up, I will pay you in cash and hugs.

Man, am I excited for this weekend. It's shaping up to be an exercise in sleep deprivation (but that's not a big deal), but I can only hope it will be filled with good music, good people and good beer. Mile High Music Fest's site says Tom Petty gets over 2 hours to rock and roll. Epic!

The world don't spin without you.

So, don't watch the video to this, just listen to it while you read blog.


<3 <3 <3 <3

Emily cut my hairs yesterday. And it still smells like Aveda, so I'm enchanted. I would post pictures, but I did nothing to it this morning, just let it air dry, since I had to be at work at 6:00am. Once I got here, I spent 3 hours sticking labels to envelopes. My brain's dead.

But I woke up enough to read that WATCHMEN TEASER TRAILOR WILL BE ON DARK KNIGHT.

In light of impending economic collaspe (don't even get me started about how impossible it is to find a job right now...), I suggest you treat yourself to the Cat custom Frontier order.

Step One: Cut a hole... Just kidding. French fries with cheese.


Step Two: Small green chile stew with a side of sour cream.


Step Three: Combine.


Step Four: Enjoy.

Trying to stay big.

This makes Tuesday better. "I got Fight Club for 6.98 at walmart." "I am Jack's low price guarantee."

CRAP I had a long weekend. I worked nine hours at the El Rey on Saturday. And I spent most of that time looking at this:


Oy, quinceañeras. You're such a cruel mistress. I love them for their $100 bar guarantee, but hate them for the fact I am forced to use what little Spanish I've retained after 4 years of schoolin for it. This one wasn't so bad, especially since the girl's dress was GREEN and she had a GREEN and BLACK theme. Thank baby Jesus. The girl always wears white and her colors are always red and white. Booooring. So thanks Veronica, for spicing it up a bit.

I ended the night really grumpy. It was weird seeing the Launchpad open again, talking to the staff, watching everything get back to normal there. It just made me sad, knowing that I'll never get my bar back. It didn't help when the El Rey's roof started leaking like mad with that crazy downpour we had at about 1:30 on Saturday night. We had to construct an elaborate system of trash bins and beer coolers to catch it all. Historical buildings never get all the way fixed, if I've learned anything, it's that.

And yeah, I'm getting used to it by now. But, I'm starting to feel like I have to justify my grief (mostly to myself...). I guess it's okay to still be sad. I've never really experienced loss like that before.

On a lighter note, Kyle said the funniest thing this weekend about selling fireworks. "I'm going to make it magical next year. Like going to Narnia. I'll wear fairy wings if I have to."

Speaking of, he joined a new band. Perhaps you've heard of Flood the Sun? Well, their new bass player is fantastically tall and awkward. By this happening, it means that 3 out of my top 5 favorite men in Albuquerque are in a band together. Success!

Stale taste of recycled air.

The point is, whenever we win Geeks Who Drink, Marky is the focus of really amazing team pictures.

I'm tired. Freaking Starbucks shouldn't be downstairs anymore. Way too tempting.

Ste. Anne de Beaupre

I decided to give up caffiene. Now, I'm not quite sure as to why, but the other morning I was staring at my box of red tea at work and said, "I do not want to drink you. Maybe I should give up caffiene." So, I have. Sort of.

I think it's partially because I have too much time on my hands and too much internet. One particular day, around the time Heather from dooce.com started her detox, I spent a good 6 hours reading about detoxes and cleanses and how horrible everything you eat is for your body. It's also important to note that I had dinner at Taco Bell that day. But, something I read must of stuck because my brain decided it would be awesome to not have caffiene.

It's more of an experiment I think, to see how body reacts without it, just how addicted I am. So far, I really haven't noticed any differences, except for my sleep patterns. I expected to be way more tired, but I'm actually sleeping less on top of it, which makes no sense. I have been getting little headaches, just little shocks of pain here and there, which I read is pretty common, but not nearly as bad as some people who have migranes without caffiene. I just want to pass out on my keyboard, but that's more of an everyday thing.

I should probably tell you that I also cheated last night and had a Dr. Pepper. So, obviously, I'm taking this VERY SERIOUSLY. But, I think it might be interesting to see how I function without certain things, maybe even try veggie-ing for a while, no dairy another week, etc. Just to figure out where my addictions are and just how well balanced my diet is. Something tells me the results will terrify me.

But mostly, I think I'm motivated out of boredom.

Also of note, I've been invited to perform some lady dancing at a benefit for a couple food pantries. I think it sounds like it would be a lot of fun, but I'm worried about my lack of lady dancing lately. Maybe I've lost my twirl. The good news is I can still do the dance to "Little Less Conversation". I tried the other night.

Is there anybody in love out there?

Yesterday blew it. Most of the day was passable as just another day, just more job uncertainty. But, all it took was one mean phone call to completely throw off my afternoon. Nothing like being yelled at by a doctor. That's right. A doctor. Who's committed to the care of the sick. Yelled at me. And trust me, I did nothing to deserve it.

So, I decided to go see my mommma, bring her some Teriyaki Chicken Bowl and visit Bruce. So, I get in the drive thru line at the TCB (you know this is going somewhere fantastic already, don't you?) and order.

Cat: Can I get a number one and another number one without chicken and extra vegetables, two egg rolls and a large pink lemonade, please?

About a minute passes.

Employee: Ma'am, this is TERIYAKI CHICKEN BOWL. WE HAVE TO PUT CHICKEN IN THE BOWL.

Cat: Okay. FINE. Can I get an order of rice and an order of vegetables?

Different employee: We'll have your total at the window, thank you.

When I get to the window, I am FUMING. You don't HAVE to put chicken in the bowl. It's not like the chicken lives in the bowl and won't come out. No. It's completely optional. And okay, I can understand, it's a menu substitute and some restaurants have policies against that. But don't be a jerk about it. I always say this, HOW HARD IS YOUR JOB? My job isn't hard, it kind of sucks, but it's not hard. And I'm not mean to anyone. It's called client services.

And of course, the person who opens the window is the idiot employee, I could tell by her voice. And she STONED out of her brain. Like, can barely open her eyes to pass me my rice and side of veggies. Almost wanted to call the store and talk to her manager, but then I realized that this is Teriyaki Chicken Bowl, and after I read a memior about people doing coke lines off the ovens at Dions, I sort of figured out that most fast food employees have to function in some kind of altered state in order to be effective. Her manager probably smoked her out.

But really, don't be a jerk. It's not that hard. On any other given day, I probably would have thought it was just ridiculous and funny, but yesterday, after a doctor yelled at me, it was just epic fail.

AND THEN I get on the interstate and drive through whatever line-widening retard of a project they're doing on 1-40 during rush hour to get to momma's. Almost got rear-ended twice. So, I was about ready to pull over, get out of my car, walk into the arroyo and wait for it to rain.

Then, as if by magic, my iPod on random decided to play the song about the story of a girl. Oh, you know what song I'm talking about. And I just started dancing and singing and all the hate from the afternoon was completely gone. Ah, noble pop music, no one gives you enough credit for how happy you can actually make people.


Next weekend, life-long dream comes true. I get to see Tom Petty live. It'll be at the Mile High Music Fest and there's a buncha other artists playing (some of which I'm more excited about than others). But, I think it'll be a fantastic time. Just a few days of all day music and good friends. That weekend in general is going to rule. Thursday night is, of course, Dark Knight, and Friday night is Lucero.

And they're amazing.

All I gotta do is make it through a week of work and then, awesomeness. Deep breathes, please.

I'm still crossing fingers and toes over the dream job I applied for last week. I'd like it if you would do the same. It's a rare thing to make money doing something you love.

The fire in your heart is out.

HACK ALL THE INTERNETS. ALL OF THEM.

Trust me, that link is worth all kinds of clickage.

I CAN'T BLOG ABOUT MY JOB, but job security seems to waiver more and more everyday. Sometimes, I think I'll be here til the end of the year, sometimes til the end of the week. Point is, I'm on a fail boat. And looking to get off as quickly as possible.


Life doesn't seem too blog-worthy lately. It seems like I haven't had a boyfriend for a while, as Fireworks Kyle is some kind of parallel doppleganger. Normal Kyle is resurfacing, but he's in Colorado with family. His sort of, kind of, almost dog Bruce is getting along well with my momma, even though he will NOT stay tied up or in a dog run. He needs freedom.

I swear you're on.

Albuquerque, you looked beautiful on the 4th. All these bright bulbs of color shooting up all over the city. Really, the best way to see it is some kind of bird's eye view, from the crest or from the interstate. Lovely, lovely, lovely. In fact, you looked so lovely that I might have forgiven you a little bit. You can still eat it for G-Dub backlash, but you won back some pretty points.

(And don't worry, I am well aware of my irrationally-placed anger. Yep.)

Somewhat legal firework activity. Somewhat.

This is what Ashley will look like when she watches the end of the world. Safety goggles and all.

This is what it looks like when you put a roman candle in a recliner.

This is what Casey does to action figures he doesn't want anymore.

This is sparkler dancing.

This is pretty.

This is too.

Such a lovely place.

This pick was not nearly as magical as the last, but it's only further proof that I'm destined for those little guys.

I went to the show with Marky and Tom and Tom harassed the Sunshine stage staff until they not only gave him that pick which was lying on the ground, but also a set list that was under Tim's Gretch. The stage staff was all, "Dude, I am not touching that guitar!" but I guess Tom used his republican powers to convince the guy to do it. The pick originally went to Marky and Marky gave me the set list, but I sheepishly asked for a trade. Because this is DESTINY. Accept it or be destroyed. I dare any of you kids to try an snag a Tim Armstrong pick at an Albuquerque. JUST TRY IT.

Yesterday sucked because some jerk in a Blazer decided to run over Bruce. AND NOT STOP to see if he was okay. He's okay, he's a trooper. Pretty scared and I sure don't blame him. He's got a cut on his back leg but it doesn't look like anything's broken.

But, happy 'Merica day, y'all. I plan on celebrating by cleaning house and watching Talladega Nights.

Laughing away sunburn.

In Ben Fold’s iTunes originals series, he does an Elliot Smith cover and before he plays it, he says a little bit about Elliot Smith, what a loss his death was and so on. But Ben also says one of the most profound things Elliot ever told him was “If you grow up with yelling in your house, the last thing you want to do is make records of yelling.” Ben goes on to talk about how this little rule might sum up what’s so wrong with modern rock music: “yelling as recreation”.

But, that quote made me think a lot about punk rock in general, not modern rock. There’s just as much yelling, so why are so many drawn to it, in this day and age of 60% divorce rate? Because it really does that, it draws you in. You remember it. You were there. That feeling of complete curiosity, but total knowledge at the same time. Because, if only for 5 minutes, your adolescent self found a comfort zone.

Maybe they yell because no one else is. Maybe it's about what isn't said in your house growing up.

I’ve always considered my punk rock discovery as particularly unique because of being from Raton. In larger cities, I would assume it would be easier. Lots more access to CDs, knowledge, locals shows, but in Raton, It was a special breed. But also isolated. Hardly anyone came in from the outside to disturb what me and my friends deemed “punk enough”. We evolved on our own, made it our own. Nothing was outlawed; skateboards, ska, metal, pop... Matt Floyd, the man who got me into Rancid, was a cheerleader in high school.

Most of the time when me and Matt hung out, the first thing he would do was get into my car and remove whatever CD I was listening to, no matter what it was, and play something he wanted to hear. Then, we'd spend an hour or so circling the streets of Raton, back and forth, back and forth, talking about music and whatever girl he had his eye on. And then one day, he left his copy of "...And Out Come the Wolves" in my CD player. Normally, as soon as his CD left my player, I put mine back in. But this time, I kept it in. I heard it, it was there, and I'll always remember it. I went home and used my fantastic dial-up connection to order every one of their albums on interpunk.com.


And ever since then, they've been it for me. No, they're not the most prolific or complicated of bands. Some of their songs could even pass as pop. But I have always found them to be honest. And most importantly, I found them. And they've been there for everything. Leaving Raton, starting college, difficult breakups, boys who never worked out, my parent's divorce, my dad's re-marriage, graduating college, and most recently, the fire at the bar and Annie. When I left town for a few days after Annie died, the first thing on my iPod was my "Down and Out Rancid" mix.

The first time I saw them live was at Warped Tour in 2001 in Denver. It was pouring rain. The interweb tells me Denver got an inch and a half of rain that day, and I'd say most of it fell during Rancid's set. I spent their set hiding under a pizza box with my friend Winnie.

I saw them a few more times at Warped Tour, which are really just teaser sets, since they only get half an hour. The first time I saw them in Albuquerque was in December of 2003. They played with Tiger Army and I went with Marky and Andy. It's important to note that I have always been a Tim person. I think there are Tim-Rancid fans, and Lars-Rancid fans. I have always been and will always be a Tim fan. My blog from that day: "Rancid kicked. Me in my face. With a damn smile. I ended up in the front row, dead center, staring at Tim's glowing body thier whole set. I almost dies from being smashed, but as I was so grandly reminded, when the music hits, I feel no pain at all.

The pain totally paid off. Not only did I get what I believe to be the best view of the show, but Tim looked directly at me and smiled. It was the best thing ever. No, the best thing ever is that he gave Mark his pick and Mark gave it to me. So, now, I have Tim's pic in my greedy little hands. Weee!

Me and Tim will run away and fall in love very soon I'm sure."


Thus begins the story of the orange guitar pick, my constant companion for the next 2 years. I never, ever took it off until I did my chest project. I started wearing it as a bracelet and somewhere in the next few days, I lost it. Heartbroken is the choice word, but I tried to not to think about it and pretended that it was just somewhere lost in my room.

But somehow, another two years later, of all the hands that reached out to touch Tim Armstrong looked straight at me, grabbed my hand, and slid another orange guitar pic into it. He pointed and smiled at me, and ran backstage.

At that point in my life, everything was changing. And that specific night, I was running on fumes, I hadn't slept more than an hour in 3 days, I had just come back from camping. So, I just completely lost it. I tell everyone I was like a 15 year old girl at a N*Sync show.


I really don't need to explain. I know everyone reading this has that, had it, knows exactly where I'm coming from. Tonight I'll be there again, screaming lyrics and fighting for air. And hoping for another orange guitar pick.