Marley & Me: Life and Love with the World’s Worst Dog

(Published 2005; 289 pages)

The same day we picked up You’re a Horrible Person, But I Like You, we chose Marley & Me as one of the other titles from Barnes and Noble’s Buy 2, Get 1 Free selection. The movie version was the first movie we ever watched together, so it only seemed fair to read the original material. Dogs have played a central role in our relationship literally since Day One. The day I picked up Daisy was the first time Laura and I ever hung out outside of work. What started as a friendship with a co-worker progressively became far more until I was head over heels for the first time in my life, and I had Daisy to thank.

The book serves a dual purpose as a biopic for an A.D.D. Labrador with a minimally hidden biopic about the author and his wife’s first 15 years of marriage right under the surface. Given that Daisy is half-lab, a lot of the descriptions of Marley’s personality and behavior sounded close to home: the boundless energy, the appetite for destruction, the constant need for attention. The biggest difference is that Daisy’s 35-pound weight she got from her cocker-spaniel side makes her slightly less of a force to be reckoned with. Watching Marley and his bad habits grow into a 97-pound beast is like watching a tropical storm morph into a hurricane right as it hits the shore. The stories keep all attention with minimal effort as the “What’s going to happen next?” curiosity lingers stronger than a Smallville season finale cliff-hanger.

As Marley aged, our desire to continue slowed down and we prepared for the inevitable ending by avoiding it. We had seen the movie, and even before we had seen the movie we had heard the tear-jerker horror stories just like everyone else has. As I’ve mentioned many times before, our book club is a little different from other book clubs in that we ONLY read out loud to each other. For the first 250 pages of Marley and Me, this was awesome. The way the book is written is PERFECT for reading out loud as John Grogan tells the stories from a first person perspective like a father relaying old tales to his children. We spent the majority of the book laughing as I read Grogan’s perfectly told memories aloud.

Then we got to page 256* and I stopped. This wasn’t even THE moment. It was just the realization that Marley, this dog that wasn’t even ours but had made us laugh for hours nonetheless, was nearing his end. I tried my hardest not to cry. I’m the man of the house; I wasn’t allowed to cry over the impending death of a dog I don’t even know. I paused, thinking I just needed to catch my breath and swallow, then tried to continue to no avail. I paused again. I was NOT going to cry. It’s just a book. This dog was like 8,000 years old in dog years. Still, after a third attempt, a tear rolled down my cheek, and I apologized as Laura kindly took the book from me to finish the chapter.

Laura didn’t have the pride barrier that prevented her from reading and crying at the same time, and she read the rest of the book as we cried together over the loss of a pet that we had never even petted.

Marley & Me is a beautiful book that every dog lover should read, but reading it out loud to your pup’s other parent might not be the best strategy. Buy it, love it, then if you don’t already have a dog (or three) go to the shelter and rescue one. All three of our babies are rescues, and even though they’re incredibly trying at times (particularly Daisy), the extra dose of love and happiness a dog can bring into your life makes the ups well worth the downs.

Mine came with the added bonus of the perfect woman.

-

-

*of the 2008 paperback “New York Times #1 Best Seller” reprint

You’re a Horrible Person, but I Like You by Various Authors

(Published 2010; 216 pages)

One paragraph review: This book consists of sarcastic advice columns written by nearly 50 of today’s best comedians. The advisers range from popular comedy directors like Harold Ramis to Daily Show correspondents to well-known stand-up comedians and actors such as Michael Ian Black and Aziz Anzari. Some writers aren’t as funny as others, but generally speaking, the book had us laughing out loud nearly the entire time. If you want a hysterical coffee table book or something to read your significant other in the car, don’t hesitate to pick it up. It is awesome. (Be warned the content can get R rated on occasion.)

Now for a long diatribe about the purchasing of this book that I wrote before realizing this wasn’t even remotely turning into a review:

I’ve always been about the bargain buys, so the cheap shelves are always the first ones we hit up whether we’re shopping for DVD’s or books. The main reason for this with books is that we’re fans of instant gratification, and while Amazon can match Barnes and Noble’s SALE price immediately on practically any title, there’s something about bookstores and getting to walk out with your purchases that makes it worth the extra price. While our bookstore-only mentality results in completely random purchases such as the one above, my cheesy sentimental side has turned Barnes and Noble into one of my Top Ten favorite places in the world.

As e-books rise in popularity, I hope and pray that the hard copy will never die. Maybe this is just further evidence of my shocking level of materialism, but it’s important to me to be able to display my awesome collection of things in their full glory. Honestly, it’s not even for other people so much as it is just for me. The DVD collection is kept in the “study” where Laura and I are practically the only people that see it. Maybe I just want physical proof of where I all my money goes.

Regardless of the reasoning, I don’t see books or movies ever reaching the point that music has. With my enormous MP3 collection, it’s totally probable that I’ll want to listen to Jack’s Mannequin immediately after the Beatles and follow that up with some John Mayer, but I don’t foresee the same train of thought ever applying to movies or especially to books. I’m one of the slowest readers on the planet, and Laura and I take turns reading out loud to each other to allow for maximum conversation opportunity, so a book takes us at least a week to read.

If we could read a book a day and e-book piracy were at all appealing due to the massive amounts of money it would save, MAYBE a $400 e-reader would make sense, but with our one book per month average (maybe 1.25), there’s simply no way to justify paying $400 extra when e-books are only minimally cheaper than hard copies.  Given that the only scenario we would be able to read even one book per week revolves around us winning the state lottery that we don’t play, it’s basically never going to be worth it to buy a Kindle or Nook.

Plus, there’s something special about the way books smell; the feeling of turning an actual page instead of pressing a button. Now that I’ve gone all the way around the world on this bunny trail, the main reason this all started was to explain how we ended up with this book. While I never would have found You’re a Horrible Person in a million years on Amazon, the beauty of wandering aimlessly through an actual bookstore and investigating every book on the “Buy two, get 3rd free” table opens up a whole world of possibilities that resulted in us leaving with an advice book by stand-up comics, a cook book, and a dog’s biography. The kicker is that I was extremely excited about all three.

Real world > Internet.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

(Published 1999; 213 pages)

Dear friend,

A few weeks ago, Laura and I were in Barnes and Noble looking for a new book when we stumbled upon The Perks of Being a Wallflower. The name sounded familiar to both of us, but neither of us really had any clue what it was about. As we were reading over the back trying to figure it out, we couldn’t help but notice the MTV logo plastered on the bottom. Considering MTV hasn’t had anything worthwhile since around 2001, this was a bit of a red flag for us. After all, if MTV considers Jersey Shore a TV show worth watching, what does it really say for a book they deem worth reading? Not much. Fortunately, it turned out the reality was that we were about 11 years behind the rest of the world when I thought we were only 2 or 3. While 1999 wasn’t exactly MTV’s prime, I was only twelve years old at the time and I can still tell you it was way better than what the channel has become now in 2010.

The book is comprised of a series of fictional letters from the lead character Charlie to an unknown reader addressed only as “Dear friend”. The letters begin with Charlie’s first day of high school and runs through the end of his freshman year. The beginning started out rather macabre as Charlie detailed his best friend’s suicide as my fears of this being a depressing and/or whiny recollection of how difficult it is to be a teenager briefly spiked.

It’s not so much that I put myself above teenage melodrama because I was guilty of whining my way through puberty just like most American teens seem to. It’s mostly that in hindsight I’m so embarrassed by the high-school thought process that I wasn’t really interested in reliving it again through someone else. Fortunately, aside from a chapter here and there, I was relieved to realize that wasn’t the point of The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

Charlie has an unusual voice for a fifteen year old as he somehow manages to recount his day to day drama with very minimal complaint. The thing that struck me as odd throughout this is not that he sounded wise beyond his years so much as he sounded almost childishly unaware of just about everything he encountered. A lot of Charlie’s viewpoint seems to be closer to that of an extremely well-written ten year old, but based on some of the 15/16 year old’s that are on my Facebook newsfeed, I think this is preferable.

The story is set in the early 90s, and does a great job of referencing quality music, literature, and films in a way that makes you feel the excitement of discovery that comes with inundating yourself in such media. If Charlie reads a book or watches a movie or makes a mix CD, the excitement with which he talks about it is enough to make you want to make a list to check out out some of this stuff for yourself later.

The book’s strongest point is by far the cast of characters found in Charlie’s group of friends and family. Nothing about any of it feels too terribly stretched to force a false sense of interest. Everyone feels like someone you could know, and Charlie’s “10-year-old-going-through-15-year-old-experiences” perspective allows you to read non-judgmental descriptions of all events and participants. As the book’s title indicates, Charlie is merely a wallflower, and he describes the events as such, only occasionally giving his own input on an occurrence.

The book is a quick, easy read that never slows down thanks to the broad scope of topics from first love to homosexuality to teenage drug use. Though the beginning had me a little hesitant about what we had gotten ourselves into, once we got the ball rolling, our reading time superseded our TV show/movie time and became our nightly ritual three nights in a row until we were finished.

I’d give it a hearty seal of approval.

(Click here to start at the beginning)

(Click here to go back to Discovery Place)

Chapter 8 – Chima Brazilian Steakhouse

We completely skipped lunch on Day 2 for one reason, and one reason only: Chima Brazilian Steakhouse. As we’ve mentioned several times, Urban Spoon is our go-to website for restaurant recommendations and so far they’ve never let us down. The only time we’ve EVER been disappointed was the last time we decided to go to a Brazilian steakhouse in Virginia Beach and Urban Spoon actually gave us a very fair warning against that particular restaurant, but I was too blinded by the prospect of all-you-can-eat meat.

This time around, Charlotte’s take on Brazilian steakhouses was actually consistently ranked as one of the cities top two restaurants. Since the runner-up was an Italian restaurant, which isn’t particularly my favorite type of food, we decided The Charlotte Epic was as good a time as any to see if Charlotte knew how to do Brazilian-style serving right. They do.

We kicked things off with the “cold bar” which consists of a huge variety of salad bar type items for people that like that kind of thing, but as far as I was concerned this night was to be a celebration of the miracle of meat. Fortunately, even the cold bar assisted with this as I was able to get both a nice portion of thin sliced beef carpaccio and smoked salmon to go with my roll and cheese selection.

As if the salad bar (with meat!) wasn’t already more than enough, they also overload your table with a ton of warm side dishes from perfectly baked yeast rolls and spicy sausage balls to fried bananas and some sort of fancy french fry to mashed potatoes.

Now, not to make it sound like everything didn’t taste like it was prepared by God himself, because it did, but if God hand-made all of the sides, I’m pretty sure he murdered an angel to add as a special ingredient to these mashed potatoes. I can’t even think of a way to describe them that would do them justice aside from that. They were TOO good.

In case you’ve never been to a Brazilian steakhouse, the way it works is that servers walk around with skewers of meat. You have a marker of some sort on your table that signifies whether you want more or not, and if your marker says you want more, the servers WILL stop at your table and give you a piece of the highest quality meat you’ve ever had. The list of meats at Chima includes the following: Leg of lamb, baby top sirloin, beef ribs, boneless chicken, bacon-wrapped chicken, filet mignon, flank steak, lamb chops, top sirloin, pork loin with parmesan, pork ribs, ribeye, salmon, sausage, and swordfish. The pictures may make the pieces look small since there isn’t much in the way of scale, but they’re actually generous portions (try to use the fork/knife on the side for reference).

As you can see from the pictures, I was able to try just over two-thirds of them, and the memory is nearly enough to make me cry. If I was told I had to choose between being sterile and never being able to eat meat again, I’d have to take a week off from work to think about it. Being bombarded with so much absolutely flawlessly cooked meat was the kind of brainwashing good that almost makes you wonder why vegans are an acceptable part of society*. Because the meal was already so expensive we passed on any kind of alcohol, but it would turn out we didn’t need it anyway. By the time I took my first bite of swordfish, I was literally drunk on meat, and you can ask either Laura or Brandy to verify this. My stomach was stuffed with so much delicious beef, pork, chicken, and fish that my brain had triggered a form of elation I have NEVER experienced while eating before. I had absolutely NO room left, but I just kept trying to fit more. By the time I got to the sausage, I was done for; completely wasted on meat.

I had kept my “more meat please” marker flipped almost the entire time in an attempt to try at least one of everything they offered while Laura and Brandy were far more controlled. As a result, they decided to order some dessert while I stewed in my drunken-from-meat stupor. It looks delicious just like everything else this restaurant had so I’m sure they enjoyed it, but I honestly can’t even remember if I tried it. Dessert or not, I’m very tempted to rank this as the best meal I’ve ever eaten.

Life is what you make it. We just make it awesome.

-

-

*Just teasing, Vegans. I have no beef with you. (SUPA-PUN!)

(Click here to start at the beginning)

(Click here to go back to Day 2, Part 1)

Chapter 7 – Discovery Place

When the Museum of Modern Art proved to be a questionable use of $8, we concluded the best way to combat a questionable spending decision was to make another spending decision regarding a second museum we knew nothing about. After all, the law of averages states eventually ONE of these museums has to be well worth the money, right? With that in mind, we headed a few blocks down the street to Discovery Place, a science museum for children.

We went with the $18 museum + IMAX combo back (saves you two bucks if you were planning to do both anyway), and began our adventure in learning. Of course, when I say “our adventure in learning”, what I mean is “our adventure in being children again”.  Mission #1 was an exhibit about the importance of building shelter in the wild. To illustrate this point, the museum provides you with dozens of plastic pipes, velcro strips, and plastic netting – basically everything you’re naturally going to have at your disposal in the wild. Realism be damned, we just wanted to build a fort. But not just any fort – the most badass fort the museum had ever seen. After all, we were three brilliant adults in a world of children.

The final result was basically a playhouse that looked like the fort the Lost Boys build for Wendy in Peter Pan. Did we accomplish our (my) mission? Unless you’re willing to say the Lost Boys weren’t totally badass, in which case you’re about to owe them a huge apology… we absolutely did.

Stage two involved building yet another house (sort of). This time around our assignment was to build a floorplan using what was essentially dissected dollhouse pieces. Considering most people our age spent a large portion of their early teen years as professional contractors (avid players of The Sims computer game), we did a job so good it would make the next batch of eight year olds cry. Or immediately tear it down and build something that didn’t make any sense at all. Kids are stupid.

It was quickly becoming apparent that we had severely underestimated how incredible Discovery Place would be. We had already spent a good hour or so in the museum and had only taken part in two of the experiments. The section on “shelter” could have easily last us the rest of the afternoon, but we had other science we needed to rock.

Section 2 of the museum featured all kinds of physics experiments to explain everything from pulley systems to why it’s safe to lie on a bed of nails. Occasionally the experiments’ level of awesomeness would far outweigh their enormous walls of text explaining why what was happening was happening and we would just end up enjoying the miracle of science rather than remotely trying to understand it.

When we finally moved on to Section 3, we discovered a world that focused on the world we can’t see that exists above and beneath our skin.

The exhibit was  simply called “Them” and essentially seemed design to terrify children into being afraid of their own bodies as it revealed a number of bodily organisms that just happen to look like microscopic versions of Godzilla enemies. Aside from an unbeatable game that shows you the negative effects of antibiotics and a microscope you could use to see every last disgusting detail of your skin, our interest in reading all the information quickly dissipated in favor of a trivia game about frogs they had set up on a large screen.

Section 4 of the museum was dedicated to creativity. In the first room, you had the option of either making shoes or using an endless supply of aluminum foil to mold whatever your mind and hands could muster. The simplicity of the aluminum foil sculptures was brilliant, as it somehow felt both lazy yet incredibly creative all at the same time.We didn’t mess with the shoe-making stations at all due to time constraints, but everyone that was participating seemed to be having a good time, though I like to tell myself it wasn’t nearly as good of a time as I had making a sword out of tin foil.

Next came the animation room where about four or five stations were set up with computer and simplistic digital camera pointed as a white stage with a few chess pieces to use as actors. Because we’re totally deep adults, we decided to make a short film about the negative truth of hate crime. With chess pieces.

After finishing our masterpiece, it was time to catch our IMAX movie before the museum closed. The Discovery Place has a couple different IMAX theaters; one is 3D flat screen, the other is an enormous dome IMAX. We chose to see the latter which was playing a film about sea life. The dome style of the theater brings you into the movie far better than James Cameron could ever hope 3D glasses to accomplish, and the narration by Jim Carrey kept things from getting dull.

By the time the hour-long movie ended it was time for the museum to close. If we had known Discovery Place was going to be this awesome, we would have planned to spend the entire day there, but that’s just going to have to be a lesson we’ll remember for next time. I’d estimate we barely got to really do about half of the stuff there and we were busy the entire five hours. If you ever go, plan to make it a day-trip. We should have.

(Click here to continue to Chima Brazilian Steakhouse)

(Click here to start at the beginning)

(Click here to go back to Chapter 3: Big Daddy’s Burger Bar)

Chapter 4 – Amelie’s

Chapter 5 – The Green

Chapter 6 – “Modern Art”

Chapter 4 – Amelie’s

The last time we visited Charlotte, we discovered a new favorite pastry shop at the recommendation of my brother Seth. When I say a “new favorite” though, what I really mean is “Laura’s favorite pastry shop ever.” It’s open 24-hours and they serve the best sweets I’ve ever had.

This time around we budgeted a little tighter and only got enough for breakfast. For starters, I decided on cinnamon sticks to give them a little time to make my breakfast sandwich. As I mentioned during my review of Fuel Pizza, I’m a cinnamon addict and these cinnamon sticks were like handheld versions of Cinnamon Toast Crunch; perfect for snacking.

For my main course, I went with a ham and cheese melt in between a beautifully toasted baguette.  It was delicious. The biggest danger of Amelie’s is HOW great it is. Charlotte actually has a cheaper cost of living than Wilmington does when you look at apartment costs, but I’m pretty sure the reason for that is that people HAVE to be able to afford all the awesome stuff there is to do there.

Laura decided on a raspberry citrus muffin and a lemon creamcheese puff. I’m not a huge fan of lemon-flavoring beyond the very occasional lemonade, typically because a lot of places have a really difficult time balancing the lemon flavor with the rest of the pastry. In this particular instance, they did surprisingly well, though the muffin was my personal preference between these two.

I love Amelie’s.

Chapter 5 – The Green

After breakfast we decided to walk around for a bit in Charlotte’s gorgeous uptown area. Some magazine ranked it one of the prettiest cities in the country, and for good reason. Trees line the streets and statues and fountains are on every corner.

Our first stop of the morning was an area simply known as “The Green”. Right in the middle of Charlotte, a couple blocks before Wachovia’s headquarters, you’ll find a couple acres of beautifully kept grass highlighted by random community art. Everything is open access and you’re welcome to walk in and out as you please.

The art ranges from clever, to obscure, to amusingly childish, to interactive. None of it is really deep or meaningful, but trades in self-importance in exchange for bright colors and fun. Though rain had been predicted yet again, Mother Nature’s crush on me wasn’t about to let that happen as we found ourselves surrounded by warm sunlight and a cool breeze.

The Green is the kind of park you want to take your kids to. Hell, The Green is the kind of park that makes you wish you HAD kids to take to it. If you’re ever in Charlotte and need to waste an hour at no cost, head to The Green to kill some time.

Chapter 6 – Bechtler Museum of Modern Art

“Modern Art” sucks. We thought we’d stop in to get some pictures for me to make fun of, but the “no pictures” rule meant we had to be tricksy with the few shots we could get. The entire museum has three floors worth of art, which ends up meaning maybe like 100 pieces total? Most of the art consists of either randomly combining things you might find around the house, splattering paint across a canvas, or showcasing furniture or carpet you can see in anyone’s house.

Maybe I’m too close-minded or maybe all the good visual artists have been snagged by comic book companies, magazines, and Pixar which leaves museums to fill themselves with those that didn’t make it. I can’t get past the feeling that “modern art” is mostly comprised of the left-overs that want to consider themselves artistic by assigning bullshit meanings to creations anybody could make. I absolutely cannot draw, paint, or sculpt, but I also don’t do those things anyway and then put them on display as “art”. If I doodle a tree, it’s just a doodle. It’s not something people should pay $8 to see as part of an exhibit.

The coolest part of the entire modern art museum is right in front of the building and doesn’t cost a penny. Grab a picture with the Disco Chicken and go about your business.

(Click here to continue to Chapter 7: Discovery Place)

(Click here to start at the beginning)

(Click here to go back to Chapter 2: Part 2)

Chapter 3 – Big Daddy’s Burger Bar

A week before our trip, Seth sent me a text message telling me he just ordered something called a “Bacon Cheeseburger on Steroids”. As jealousy encompassed my soul, I got the name of the restaurant and added another thing to the to-do list. Laura vowed to help me fulfill it upon our next visit to Charlotte because she’s pretty much the best girlfriend ever.

While the girls decided what they wanted, I ordered one of their Spiked Milkshakes for Laura and I to split since the Music Factory’s $8 beers meant we hadn’t had any alcohol which is very strictly against the laws of concert days. Half a spiked milkshake isn’t going to make you feel anything, but it was more the principal than anything and the Razmataz Strawberry milkshake turned out to be a great choice. It also didn’t hurt that even when you split ONE in half between two glasses, it still made for two very reasonably sized solo shakes.

Since the burger I ordered was the whole reason we came, let me try to explain the “Bacon Cheeseburger on Steroids” with a little help from their online menu. Basically, they take their regular hamburger patty and season it with bacon salt. Next they add three slices of jalepeno bacon and top that off with three slices of applewood smoked bacon before coating the bun in “Baconaise” and adding a slice of pepperjack (aka my favorite cheese). If you know anything about my love affair with bacon, you’ll know this sounds exactly like the kind of thing I would invent if money and mortality were both permanent non-issues.

It’s a burger that has almost as much bacon as it has beef. The concept is completely brilliant and it was a damn good burger, but at $11, I don’t know that I’d order it again, mainly because even though I ordered it at “medium well” which was described as a pinkish center, the burger came out a little more dry than I prefer. I was mostly glad to say I’ve eaten something with such a name.

Laura decided to order the buffalo burger that regrettably had a coating of the strongest blue cheese I’ve ever tasted. Blue cheese is the worst cheese to begin with, so multiplying that flavor ten fold the traditional amount is not a tasty idea. I only tried one bite of hers, but was glad I didn’t have to eat the whole thing. Fortunately the special hot sauce they give you for your fries make up for it.

Maybe I’m just a prick because I like to think I make home-made burgers that are equal to or better than just about any restaurant’s for a fraction of the cost, but Big Daddy’s Burger Bar didn’t quite live up to its menu prices. Then again, not everyone has me around to make their delicious burgers for them, so maybe this is the best a lot of people in Charlotte can do.

(Click here to continue to Day 2: Chapters 4, 5, and 6)

(Click here to start at the beginning)

(Click here to go back to Chapter 2: Part 1)

Chapter 2 – Bamboozle Roadshow Part 2

So when I said “tomorrow” that technically qualifies as any day following the day you’re currently viewing the site, right? No? Well, I’m sorry, Little Miss Dictionary. I’ll try harder next time.

Previously, either four different bands or the same band in different clothes played 2 or 3 songs on repeat for the first four hours of Bamboozle with a brief intermission of goodness thanks to Cady Groves. Eventually Good Charlotte took the stage and put on a performance that was far more enjoyable than I expected. Finally, it was time for the band that was responsible for the three of us spending $40 on tickets to a roadshow that was mostly comprised of bands we didn’t give two shits about.

That band was Hanson. Now, I know what the majority of you are thinking as you re-read that to verify all six of those letters do in fact spell the name of those kids that sang “Mmmbop” back in 1997. It’s not a typo. These are the same kids, only now they’re all grown up. And you know what? They’re really good. Like really, really good. Great, actually. I can still sense your doubt, so let me explain.

I had very loosely followed them when their single  “If Only” battled ‘NSync and Backstreet Boys for the #1 video on TRL, but aside from that, they never drew me in beyond pirating the single for “This Time Around” off Napster. Four years later, “Penny & Me” was cracking the VH1 Top 20 every Saturday morning, and I decided to give the full Underneath album a shot. I only listened to it from beginning to end once, marked the 4 or 5 songs I liked, and disregarded everything else merely noting that they had in fact gotten a lot better after the lead singer hit puberty.

Although the song “Lost Without Each Other” would stick around as a random Top 200 favorite of mine for the next six years, nothing else the band churned out would ever even hit my ears. In 2009 when I met Laura, one of the first conversations we ever had revolved around her inclusion of “This Time Around” as one of her top ten albums of all time. In a series of events that makes little to no sense this would eventually result in a mix called “13 Reasons Hanson Kicks Fleetwood Mac’s Ass” and dozens of other mix CD’s to follow as Laura and I took turns forcing music down each other’s throat.

As the mixes piled up Hanson made more and more appearances, and before long I reached the point where I would very openly defend them as “actually quite good” when the topic would come up. Now that I’ve seen them live, they’ve jumped enormously. Now, at first I thought maybe it was just because I love piano rock and seeing a band that knew what they were doing after five carbon-copy pop-punk bands played five times in a row was the equivalent of watching a Michael Bay marathon and ending it with Jurassic Park. Fortunately, I decided to test this theory as the awesomeness of their six song set left me wanting more by finally listening to all of their albums again.

I’ll still never really love 90% of their debut album just because I can’t get over Taylor’s girly 12-year-old voice, but I’d stand by their sophomore album This Time Around as an incredibly solid CD, while their last album The Walk (which I didn’t know existed until two years after it came out) is one of the best full albums I’ve ever heard. The in-between album Underneath is still a little iffy, but it has enough golden nuggets to make half of it worthwhile. Their new album comes out June 8th, and while I didn’t really care before the concert, I’m now almost as excited for it as I am for Rooney’s third album that releases on the same day.

Laura and Brandy are both super-hardcore Hanson fans and have been since they were 9 or 10 years old. Even in the time I’ve known them, they’ve defended the boys tooth and nail on more than one occasion, and until now I’ve merely respected them for sticking to their guns. Now that I’ve actually seen Hanson live and given their discography a real chance, I can see that they were never “sticking to their guns”. It was more like defending that . From someone that always thought they were too cool to be a Hanson “fan”, let me assure you: I was wrong. And that’s coming from someone who’s only been wrong about MAYBE four things in my entire life.

When the show was over, the girls stood in line to get the guys’ autographs and the day was declared a huge success. I had seen a great show that completely changed my perspective on a band I previously just liked, and Laura and Brandy got autographs and a picture with Brother #3 (Zac). Mission accomplished and we still had one entire day of fun left.

But to bring the night to a close we needed one more thing: Food.

(Click here to continue to Chapter 3: Big Daddy’s Burger Bar)

(Click here to start at the beginning)

Chapter 2 – Bamboozle Roadshow

After lunch we checked into our hotel so we could claim our parking spot and not have to worry about our belongings for the remainder of the day. We checked out the view from the rooftop view so Laura could snag some pictures before finally deciding it was time for the exploring to begin. Since the venue was supposed to be within walking distance of the hotel, we decided to go ahead and head towards wherever it was so we could sight-see along the way and see if there was anything else we wanted to go back to do once we knew where we were supposed to be.

It was only a mile walk allegedly, but I’m pretty sure it was more like a mile fly if you’re a bird, but a good two or three miles for anyone else that doesn’t have wings/a desire for a B&E charge. To top it off we weren’t exactly even IN downtown after the first few blocks; rather we were in rich people land surrounded by what we could only assume were the best condominiums in town. The weather was supposed to be thunderstorming all weekend, but because I’m mother nature’s favorite son, we got yet another gorgeous weekend to go along with the amazing series of weather she gave us for Myrtle Beach, Charlotte’s Whim, and our Hookie Day – more than half of which were originally supposed to rain the entire time. (Of course, now that I’ve called her out on it we can probably expect crap weather for the next six months; hooray!)

Eventually we worked our way through Rich Land and arrived at the very definition of “The Wrong Side of the Tracks”. We crossed the railroad and were surrounded by nothingness. A field of dead grass was guarded by a broken fence topped with barbed wire; litter and broken glass lined the road as our beloved sidewalk disappeared from beneath our feet. Admittedly, there weren’t any people around that we could see, but if I were a crackhead I would absolutely hang out here to have an environment to match my withdrawal spasms. Just in time to arrive at the enormous graveyard from every zombie/vampire movie ever, we finally had a ray of hope when we were met with a sign directing us to the NC Music Factory, aka our destination. Half a mile later we arrived at the venue, and half a mile after THAT we finished walking around the venue to arrive at the entrance since we had shown up in back.

Now that we were five hours early to a roadshow where we had planned to see only two of thirteen bands, both of which didn’t play until the middle and only one of which I would still admit to listening to. Since our “Go back and explore the city once we know where we’re going” plan was spoiled by the realization that where we were going was way further from anything than we had originally thought, we had no choice but to check out a couple bands (or one band that changed clothes every thirty minutes?).

If I were born in 1994, this show probably would have been one of the greatest days of my life, but unfortunately, I missed the target market by about seven years. We showed our age as we sat through a couple bands on the indoor second stage and made a game of guessing whether they were playing one song five times in a row or actually playing five different songs before changing uniforms, coming back out on stage, announcing a different band name, and playing five more songs that sounded like the previous five songs that took turns sounding like the very first song. Maybe they were in fact different musicians, but conforming against non-conformity had merrily resulted in ten rebels that looked like the same three rebels put through a Xerox.

After we had enough we headed back outside to go the merch table for the only band at the show most of us had any interest in. After deducing that the venues beer selection matched most of their music selection (which honestly was for the best at eight bucks a cup), a new artist finally took the main stage: Cady Groves.

Now, I had never even heard of Cady Groves as I’m sure 99.9% of the population hasn’t, but if Disney ever gets ahold of her, you better hold on to your butts. As the middle point between six pop punk bands nobody has ever heard of and five pop punk bands people inexplicably love, this tiny little girl took the stage in skin-tight sweatpants and cowboy boots accompanied only by a drummer with a bass drum/tamberine combo and a guy with an acoustic guitar. Her voice had a hint of southern twang to it when she sang, but compared to the previous two bands we had heard it was a welcome change of pace. Though she struggled a little bit to capture the crowds attention (keeping in mind most of the attendees would complain about Music Factory’s “no moshing” policy), she gave a set that was good enough to get me to pick up a copy of her 8-song EP after she was done. Everything about her screams “Juno is my favorite movie!” but as someone who digs Juno myself, it was a very welcome surprise. (Listen to her here)

Next up, came for Forever the Sickest Kids, or as Laura dubbed them, Forever the Weirdest Kids. They would proceed to sound exactly like the first couple bands we had heard only they decided to bring uniqueness to their set by constantly referencing their Twitter page and asking the audience to do obscure things like make a bird with their hands and name it. This would’ve made a lot more sense if anyone in the band had seemed stoned, but the music had way to much energy for that to be case so it’s far more likely that they’re just a little stupid. The people that were into them were REALLY into them, so it’s hard to knock them too much since they seem to have acquired quite the fanbase, but it’s just really not my style. No one in their fanbase seems like someone I’d be best friends with and I’m okay with that.

The only thing that really happened for the next two bands was that Laura and Brandy got to live a childhood dream by having their pictures taken with a member of their favorite band ever. Recognize him? No? More on that later.

After completely ignoring the Cartel set, Good Charlotte was up next. Now, I LOVED Good Charlotte when I was in 9th grade, but a lot of that is because they write lyrics for ninth graders which meant by eleventh grade I had already grown out of them. Fortunately they stuck with most of their older stuff for the set so I was able to devolve to a tenth grade state of mind for half an hour and have a good time. You know punk is dead when the closest a “punk” roadshow comes is Good Charlotte playing songs from 2003’s Top 100.

Finally, the only band the three of us had specifically come to see took the stage…

PART 2 TOMORROW EVENTUALLY!

(Click here for Chapter 2: Part 2)

May 22, 2010

A couple weeks ago we visited Charlotte by ourselves on a whim and had a great time exploring and celebrating my older brother’s birthday. We had been planning a trip for this past weekend for months, so while Charlotte’s Whim was an unexpected surprise, our return had the advantage of strategy, budget, and time. We knew exactly what we wanted to do, we had set aside the money to do it, and we had two full days to cram as much fun into a May weekend as we could. Our awesome friend Brandy had also come along for the ride, and since she’s pretty much one of the coolest people we know, it was a welcome addition to the party. Plus, it meant we had a backup photographer to make sure we captured every last detail.

Now that we had the crew, we just had to get there – a goal our GPS was determined to ignore. For some reason, everytime we drive to Charlotte our GPS decides we should go somewhere else around the half-way point and completely loses track of where we are/what dimension we’re in/how buoyant our car is.

As delicious as it sounds, we didn’t have any interest on going to Chicken Road. We had a show to get to, and the trip we had planned was already too epic to fit into one blog post without the GPS trying to take on Colonel Sander’s favorite detours.

Chapter 1 – Fuel Pizza

When we finally foiled the GPS’s plans to direct us to the land of poultry, we arrived at our destination right around noon. Since we had all skipped breakfast, food was the top priority. When we came to the Penguin last time we passed buy an old gas station that had since been converted into a pizza place called Fuel Pizza. My brother Seth seemed to recommend trying it, but the “Best Burgers in America” were calling our name so we put it on our to-do list. The awesome thing about having a joint to-do list is that it seems far more likely to actually get completed eventually. Maybe not today, and maybe tomorrow, but forever is a long time, and that’s the estimated timeline Laura and I have to do everything we put on ours.

Now that Fuel’s time had finally come, it was go big or go home, so we ordered a sampling of just about everything. We split the #3 combo that consisted of two slices of pepperoni pizza, three garlic knots and a soda. Then to even further expand our horizon, we added on 18 hot wings and three cinnamon knots. Brandy just went with the pizza combo because that’s the sensible thing to do.

The pizza was quality, and I would happily order it again, but the side items really stole the show. The buffalo wings were literally piping hot and it took the cloud of steam about ten minutes before they were at an eatable temperature. It was a good thing had the first course of our meal to keep us busy. The garlic knots and the side of marinara made for pretty heavenly combination that can best be described as “If we ever move here I’m never ordering breadsticks again”. Since Fuel is such a small chain, it’s anybody’s guess what the health information on their food is, but these butter and garlic covered knots of left over pizza dough would have been worth it if I found out they were 500 calories apiece.

Once we were finally able to eat the wings, I discovered my personal favorite course. The sauce was just spicy enough to feel a slight burn that didn’t distract from the flavor and the amount of meat on the bones made it well worth the 75 cents a piece that they averaged out to. The cinnamon twists we had gotten for dessert were one of the thickest, densest pastries I’d ever eaten, but as a childhood addict to Cinnamon Toast Crunch, if you put cinnamon and sugar on something, it’s almost guaranteed that I will force my stomach to make room.

Fuel Pizza was a raging success that I was happy to learn is a city-wide chain with several locations tucked into buildings throughout Charlotte. I can’t find anything on their website to verify if we went to the original location, but it’s the only one I saw that actually looks like a gas station and they use it for their banner, so until I learn otherwise I’m going to say we went to the original. The vibe the converted gas station gives is awesomely old school and serves to create a great environment for enjoying the huge variety of foods they offer. We’re definitely going to have to go back.

(Click here to continue to Chapter 2)