neglectnormalcy

Okay, Erica. Okay. You win. You, too, Christy. I went to the Fall Out Boy show with Erica last Friday night and it converted me. Hi, my name is Jessica, and I'm a Fall Out Boy fan.

[Sidenote: Wouldn't that be a great idea for a video? Especially for a band like FOB, where people think they're sellouts and others are afraid to admit they like them? Somebody walks into a classroom for an evening meeting of FOB Anonymous. "Hi, I'm Jack and I'm a Fall Out Boy fan." ... "Hi, Jack." And then the whole video shows clips of these addicts secretly listening to FOB on their iPods on the street and getting caught by fellow addicts, staring at Pete Wentz on FOE.com, buying a Clandestine shirt...HA. And then at the end of the video everybody realizes it's okay to like FOB, because they still rock your socks off.]

So Erica and I were oblivious to the fact that there were three other bands opening for AAR and FOB. We sat outside and drank some beers. Which eased us right into the All-American Rejects blistering set, which we danced through without a pause. "Move Along" rules. Then FOB came on stage. I gave a skeptical look to Erica (I probably didn't, but I'm just trying to add to the imagery of this moment...) and then the beat started and all we could do was dance. And jump. And dance. I don't think I even looked at the stage for a combined five minutes the entire set. It was just fun. My shins and calves started hurting halfway through I was dancing so much. It's five days later, and I still feel sore. And now I actually get it. I can listen to FOB and I'm like, "Hey, they played that song live...let's dance!"

Friday night we met up with Monty Are I at their hotel room and passed out from exhaustion. I was wearing my gray jeans (the skinny jeans for girls whose thighs touch, as Erica and I call them) all weekend. From Friday until early Sunday AM, they didn't come off my legs. Gross and amazing at the same time.

Saturday we headed to Bamboozle, which was a lot like Warped Tour except lamer and with the weirdest VIP/bands/ticketholders class system ever. Erica finally met Christy. Geez. I was so tired from the previous night, my legs weren't holding up well and I wanted to fall asleep right under the Monty Are I tent all day. Monty Are I's set was decent, but they had some technical difficulties.

I was exhausted by the time we got the afterparty, but the open bar lured Erica and I right in. Then Monty played and ROCKED. It sounded amazing. And they were so tight. It got me so pumped. They got everyone in the place pumped - everyone was pumping their fists to "Livin' on a Prayer." Word.

All I have to say is Steve's managers and label reps + their friends take all. And a special mention to Ben, who is the best lights guy I know. If Monty's music is epic, Ben's lights are epic. And he's SuperNiceGuy. When I first met him a few years ago and couldn't remember his name, that's what I called him. And he's still SuperNice.

Erica and I bid adieu to the silly streets and fuckign u-turns of Paramus, New Jersey on Sunday afternoon and ended our first tour (the Sans Plans/Sans Pants/Dance Dance Tour) the only way we knew how: the Wendy's 99-cent menu. And a frostie.

Then we both got sick on Monday. All worth it, all worth it.