Sure, I got two new derogatory autographs (from 2 of the guys from fastball) last night, but my sister Danielle is having bulletin board conversations with Noodles from The Offspring.

May I present Exhibit A, B, and C.

I would say my news pales in comparison, but the new autographs are possibly the best ones written by strangers. Miles wrote “I’ve put out a restraining order! Leave me alone!” and Tony wrote “To the smelliest rat”. Once I frame the four autographs that haven’t made it onto the wall yet, (the 2 new ones, the Dexter Holland, and the Gallagher – putting “the” in front of them makes them sound like fine art) I’m gonna have to find someplace new to move them all to, because that little chunk of wall is really quite full.

It was a really good show last night; I don’t remember Fastball playing this well the last time I saw them. But then again there’s a huge difference in sound when you’re sitting a quarter-mile away from the stage as opposed to 15 feet. And, swoon, their new stuff is picking up that twangy, westerny, cake-ish sound that freakin’ rocks.

Only caught the last two songs of the opening opening act, some band called Empyrean or something like that. We were busy trying to get my car parallel parked. Someday I’ll tape myself trying to parallel park and send it in to America’s Funniest Home Videos, and win the 10,000 bucks hands down.

One of the best parts about live shows is the live show going on around you, crowd-wise. While Butch Walker was on stage doing his over-exaggerated facial expressions and singing there was a group of retarded bikery type guys who kept doing the devil horns sign and woo-ing very loudly every ten seconds. But then they decided that wasn’t quite obnoxious enough, so they made super devil horns by putting their two fists together and having their pinkies up. With more woo-ing. I probably would’ve liked Butch Walker better if there weren’t so many stupid people around us. I found out that he did that Freak of the Week song they used to play all the time on kroq. meh.

When Fastball came on there was this one stage-slut that was in complete awe of them. She stood right in the path of one of the stage lights, so I don’t know how she could’ve seen anything – maybe it was a deer in headlights thing more than awe? But she looked only two places the entire set. At the one guitarist, then at the other. Rinse. Repeat. (but while you’re rinsing and repeating, miss, do not take your eyes off the band, or you will spontaneously combust.) There was a May-December couple (she was possibly 18 or so with braces, he was in his 30s.) who I wanted to punch because they were extremely jerky-pushy about getting up to the very front and center of the floor. We had to laugh later, because they tried doing this freaking-type dancing during “The Way”. I don’t know if you’ve heard much of Fastball’s stuff. You almost certainly have heard “The Way”, it was their big hit in 98 or 99 or something like that. But yeah, it’s not really music to get your freak on to. But it sure is fucking hilarious to watch people try. And there was a girl standing next to me that I could’ve sworn was a guy in a bleach-blond wig.

And there’s another really good idea in the works for Halloween costumes this year. I can’t freakin' wait.

And thanks to Steph and Phil, who steered Jen and I to happy thrifting goodness before the show. Thanks to you I now have a four-foot big tiki-god carved wooden fork.

And Chipotle. Yum.

I got weirded out again by the drive home. When it’s all dark and shit, and there’s only a few lights visible to the left like oil rigs out in the ocean, you can almost picture yourself driving down PCH at night. It’s pretty cool.

Don’t try to look at stars while you drive, you’ll start to fuck up the driving.

Cheers!