The worst best weekend

This weekend started off by dropping into serious levels of horror, but it ended on a great note.

In order to explain what happened, I have to go all the way back to the fourth of July. The neighbor brought us over a couple of boxes of dark chocolate-covered espresso beans as a way to thank us for cooking. I immediately took them with me to work, where they stayed until Friday. On Friday, the boss sent us an email saying that we now have janitors, and these janitors won't clean a desk if there is anything on it, or in the chair, so everything has to go back home. I took all my desk crap home, and promptly forgot the espresso beans. Max found them and gave himself a lethal dosage of caffeine. For those of you who don't know, chocolate is toxic to dogs, but mainly only the potent stuff (dark chocolate). It's toxic due to its caffeine content, which dogs can't handle. So this was a double whammy. I immediately tried to induce vomiting, but didn't have any luck, so straight to the dog ER it was. He had to spend the night, and it involved a hefty chunk of money. If we had not come home as quickly as we did, Max could have died from this.

But he came home today and I arranged for the neighbor to check on him a few times, because today was the date of our second Warped Tour! It was a blast. The main bands we saw today were the Bouncing Souls, the Casualties, Joan Jett, and Anti-Flag. Everybody was great. I actually sustained a minor punk rock-related injury, which I will brag about much more than any person should over such a tiny injury (slightly swollen lip). So here's how it happened: during the Casualties' set, they decided to tell the crowd that they wanted a circle pit to go around the nearest tent. I usually avoid circle pits, because Portland has some heavy metal fans that lost out when metal died, so they come to punk shows to be aggressive assholes. Anyway, this was the largest circle pit ever and there was no escape. Nathan and I got separated, and I got knocked down. I was instantly picked back up by the crowd and got shoved again instantly. The second time, my face hit the person's belt who was in front of me, and my lip got a little bloodied. As I fell, the guy behind me tripped over me and did a spectacular flip. I saw my opportunity and got out of the pit then, and felt mighty manly with my tiny little cut on my lip. Oh, and my neck hurts from getting tripped over.

There was also a performance-art band that was pretty silly. Nathan took a lot of pictures of them wearing their costumes. The only other highlight that I can remember right now was when the bouncer (who calls himself "the bloodhound," and attends every area show) tackled a crazy guy right in front of me.

When I'm queen, my bouncers will arrest every macho asshole who comes to punk shows thinking he's in the right place. They'll have to report to palace for beatings. I think I'll make Nathan and Chance the whip-masters. I think they would do a good job, and cherish the role.

My royal bouncers will also arrest every stoner who comes to a punk show thinking he's welcome. When I was a teenager, I decided that even though I'd never be caught dead smoking anything (especially pot) there was no good reason that I could see for it to be illegal. I support and respect hippies' right to smoke whatever they want. But the return sentiment there should be that hippies respect me enough to NOT COME TO THE PUNK ROCK SHOW. And if they do have to come, they shouldn't smoke ANYTHING around me. I hate it. I hate smoke and I especially hate pot smoke. It's the worst. It's vile. And it's disrespectful. This is why we don't let them have it legalized. They can't follow basic rules of civil respect when it's not legal, so why expect them to be any better when it is? OK, I know that's specious logic, but this is my little haven for rants, so that's me ranting. Pot is for hippies, and hippies suck. They should take their drugs, and their hair, and go someplace else and stop bothering me. And yes, anyone who smokes pot is a hippie and can just leave the rest of us alone.

In fact, I'm about ready to embark on hippie-hunting. Don't worry, it'll be a catch-and-release program. I'll catch them here, and drop them back off in Eugene, their native habitat. Trust me, it's where they belong, and they'll be much happier there. I hear jam bands stop there, and that they welcome hippies to their shows. /rant

***Most of the pictures below need to be enlarged to be properly viewed.