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9th Annual X-mas Letter

Assalamu alaikum my brothers and sisters,

The pages of my Hello Kitty desk calendar are getting thin, so it must be time to bang out this year's X-mas letter.  I turned 35 this year, so I am looking forward to my mid-life crisis where I purchase a sports car, hang out in bars, buy expensive toys, sexually harass co-workers and go to concerts with kids half my age.  What?  That's what I've been doing for the past 15 years? Damn, now what do I have to look forward to?  Is 3 straight questions a X-mas letter record?  Nope, now it's 4. Top that bitches!

Wow that paragraph took a somewhat unexpected turn.  I wasn't planning to lay out a x-mas letter challenge in the first few sentences but there it is. Sure I could take it back, but that would be censorship, and if I start censoring myself then you'd all be reading a nice vanilla letter about how blessed I am.  If you want to read that letter, then you've come to the wrong place.  Disney is on channel 83, and this is channel 147 - Cinemax After Dark, so buckle up kiddies because the V-chip has been removed for your enjoyment!

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The Immaculate Conception

After 8 years of near misses, wide-rights, dropped balls, incomplete passes and lost fumbles the old lady and I finally killed the rabbit.  I attribute this amazing feat to the World Champion Pittsburgh Steelers. 

Before delivering the winning sample to the Dr.'s office in a Steelers beer cozy, I watched a series of Steelers highlights including Fast Willie Parker's 75 yard touchdown run in the Super Bowl, and the immaculate reception.  I can only imagine that my boys were inspired and waving their terrible towels as they came out of the tunnel and made their run to greatness. 

"22 seconds remaining and Crawford is back and looking again.  Crawford, running out of the pocket looking for somebody to throw to, fires it down field and there's a collision. It's caught out of the air!  It is brought in by Dr. Cook, who is trying to make her way into the end zone.  I can't believe it, Crawfords win! Crawfords win!"

I pulled the ultimate Houdini by getting the Mrs. Pregnant while not even being in the room.  So Amy that kid better be white or you have some 'splainin to do. 

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Notable Vacation Moments

Boston – We had a wicked awesome time at Fenway, but on the flight to Boston we had an encounter with a chatty pilot.  Everyone is watching videos, sleeping or listening to music and then the pilot comes on and says a bunch of witty things like; "Looks like we have a bank of clouds up ahead, these are stratus clouds, which are different from cirrus clouds, but don't worry they won't stick to the plane." 

15 seconds later… "You know the co-pilot today is Gary Wilson, I had an Uncle named Gary who used to play this game with me called plastic surgery.  I would get naked and he would draw on me with a blue marker.  Then I'd fall asleep and when I woke up he would be there smoking a cigarette. Anyway, if you are on the right side of the plane you can see New York City" 

20 seconds later…"Anyone see Will and Grace last night?  It was a repeat, but I watched it anyway.  It was the one where Grace has the water bra that shoots everywhere.  Man that show cracks me up, especially when Jack makes fun of Will's weight.  Speaking of weight, I was a chubby kid but I managed to lose the weight in high school by doing tons of coke.  Gotta love the 80's, man those were the days.  So, I've turned off the seatbelt sign, if you need to get up and use the restroom feel free powder your nose."  Delta Pilot – 1 Me - 0

Atlantic City – We arrive around 11:30 pm on a Friday night, check into the hotel and head up to our room on the illustrious 30^th floor.  The elevator door opens we hear loud voices coming from the penthouse which is next to our room.  As we turn the corner, BAM! A gaggle of large black hookers look at us like Maury just announced that we were not the father of their babies.  We head into the room and chill for approximately 12 seconds and then head back down to get another room.

So it's back to the elevator and all of a sudden we are in a rap video, starring Three 6 Mafia and a couple of women with questionable morals.  Then you have me, an overweight middle-aged white guy wedged in the corner with my pillow in one hand and a blue Igloo cooler in the other not making eye contact with anything but the floor.   

In my mind I went through my survival techniques, but I couldn't remember if you make yourself look bigger or play dead when confronted by rappers and ho's.  The Royal Suites Hotel– 1  Me – 0.

Orlando – I was staying at the Peabody hotel in Orlando and I walked out of the elevator onto a plush red carpet where a large crowd had gathered. They were all looking at me in anticipation with their cameras poised and ready to shoot.  Thinking it was a surprise party or maybe a celebrity was in the hotel, I started waving and pointing at everyone like I was Kirk Cameron on the set of Growing Pains circa 1986. 

As I approached the end of the red carpet, I heard the music start to play and I turned to see the famous Peabody Ducks come out of the elevator and walk towards me.  Well smack my ass and call me Charlie, I guess those retard sandwiches I had for lunch must have been stronger than I thought.

Ducks – 1  Me – 0.

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Injury of the Year

Time once again to recap Erik's mishaps, stumbles and falls.  Past injuries have included hernias, gashed knees, a kinked neck, and this year I proudly display my broken toe.  On a normal day this little piggy would have had roast beef, but on a breezy June afternoon that little piggy had none. 

After scoring a TD in a family football game at my niece's graduation party I proceeded to break into my famous end zone dance.  As the football is spinning on the ground and I am rocking my best moves, my toe buckles under my weight and snaps.  Being the consummate professional, I finish the game even grabbing another TD pass, but the damage was already done. 

So here's to you drunken Uncle reliving his glory athletic days at family functions guy.  Always trying to do too much, not realizing that time has not been kind to your once athletic physique.  Maybe it's time to put down the football, lock up the soccer ball and pick up a deck of cards. Canasta anyone? 

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Deep Fried Conversations

This year my office moved to the Tyson's Corner area, which is the shopping Mecca of Virginia.  When women get within 10 minutes of this place they get all tingly in the pants and their brains immediately release the "Need New Shoes" hormone.

The one beacon of light in this estrogen drenched area is the close proximity to my favorite deep fried fast food chain Long John Silvers.  Harold and Kumar go to White Castle is nothing compared to Erik and Amy go to Long Johns. 

"I want that feeling. The feeling that comes over a man when he gets exactly what he desires, I need that feeling!"

And not only do you get a great meal, but the conversations of the patrons are just as delicious as the food.  Keep in mind these are actual quotes, I'm not making these up.

1.  Man in booth behind me: I don't know if I should get back with her, she's my baby's mamma, but I don't know if I can deal with her. 

Buddy beside him:  (Says something inaudible) You know Malcolm X said that

Buddy across the botth:  Nah man you trippin' Jay Z said that.

2.  Man in Line:  I'm getting drunk tonight

Woman with him:  I'm getting drunk tomorrow night because my boo is getting out of jail

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Things that Only Amuse Me

Just to keep life interesting I'll often try and mess with Joe Public while I'm going about my daily routine.  On most days it's the usual stuff like putting condoms in the grocery cart of a woman with too many kids, or after eating an expensive meal asking what 2% of $150 is within ear shot of the waiter. 

On this particular day Amy and I were coming back from Costco when my mullet & mustache senses started tingling. A few seconds later a Corvette convertible pulls up next to us at a red light blasting some AC/DC.  So I break out the iPod and start playing the same song, but at a different part so that it's really annoying.  He then changes his stereo to Metallica, so I scroll down on the iPod and start cranking the same song again.  Now I know he's hearing what I'm playing, but he doesn't look over he just changes it over to Lynyrd Skynyrd and I do the same thing yet again.  The light finally changes, and at the last second I just get a quick "You're a dick" glance and then he takes off. 

I did something similar to Bruce on the way home from Atlantic City.  He was pissed at McDonalds for not having Diet Coke, so I started playing songs like Billy Joel's "Angry Young man", Soul Coughing's "Mr. Bitterness" and by the time Robert John's "Sad Eyes" came on I was threatened with the lodging of a certain MP3 device into my rectum, so I turned it off. 

I know, not that interesting to all of you, but being a master antagonist since birth, these ayatollah ass-a-hola moments truly satisfy my schadenfreude.

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Lollapalooza – Behind the Music

By now all of you have read the personal account and the official Blender article, but here are a couple stories that were too embarrassing to make the cut.

Artist Interview Gone Wrong

Jason and I were watching Gnarls Barkley when we got the call that the Flaming Lips were willing to give us some interview time. So I run and jump onto the golf cart, like Bo Duke getting into the General Lee, and I'm off to the far end of the park to hook up with the Lips.  I meet the rep backstage amongst several members of the media and I start in on my interview questions:

Me: How many Lollapalooza's is this for you? 

Artist: This is our second

Me: The visuals during your stage show are legendary, who in the band comes up with most of it?

Artist:  (Looking confused) I think we're pretty boring just standing around and playing

Me:  Does Wayne (lead singer) have the most input?

Artist:  I'm not in the Flaming Lips, I'm in the band Built to Spill

Me: Oh man, well, uh, I'm sorry I really don't have anything else

Artist:  Good I have better ways to spend my time

Random Media Member:  I'll step in and save you here

I felt like Vern Troyer at the beach, about 2 feet tall and red all over. 

Sign Language Interview Gone Wrong

Blender wanted some human interest angles to Lollapalooza so we decided to interview the people who do sign language for the deaf folks at the side of the stage.

As we are walking we see a couple of the sign language facilitators coming our way.  I stop them and as I'm about to ask them a question, I involuntarily see my hands come up in front of my face and in slow motion my fingers start moving in a mock sign language fashion.  It was like walking up to an epileptic kid and start gyrating all over while asking him if he ever has seizures.  I get douche chills just thinking about this story.

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Amy's Sick Burn of the Year

Unnamed friend:  C'mon admit it I'm one of the two funniest people you know

Amy:  You do realize that I know more than two people.

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Conclusion

I know what you're thinking… Is that it?  That's all I get?  I waited an entire year for a lousy 6 pages?  How can Erik not put more effort into his letter and offer us just a little more?  Can we please get an encore?  The record for consecutive questions in a X-mas letter now stands at 5!!! My name is Paul and the new record is up to y'all.    

Well that about wraps it up for 2006, and most likely my final year as a DINK (Dual Income No Kids).  Next year it will all be "My kid did this" stories and poop jokes like; Hey who put the mutha fucking snakes in my kid's mutha fucking diaper!

So to all my single friends I bid you adieu, as you will probably not see me for about 18 years, and for all my married friends with kids; Daddy's in the house and he's got a bottle of wine in the diaper bag!

Finally, I wanted to close with a nice poem or song for our new baby girl and after an extensive search I think that Stephen Lynch has summed up the future of our new family perfectly.

Lullabye

(MP3 Available on Request)

Hush little girl
sweet baby don't cry, tonight
Daddy is here and he'll
sing you a soft lullabye, tonight
Why can't it all be like
it was before
How can I explain why mommy's
not here, anymore

Because daddy likes porno
and $10 whores
Daddy gets wasted and robs
liquor stores
Daddy likes rubbing against
little boys on the bus
i think that's why your mommy left us
mommy left us...

hush little girl, there is
no reason to fret, not tonight
don't mind the smoke,
daddy just wants to forget
(exhales deeply) tonight
soon it will all be like it was before
any minute she will walk
through that front door...

but daddy plays poker
and drinks lots of beer
then he wants sex that involves
mommy's rear
daddy has sores on his naughty
parts oozing with puss
I think that's why your mommy left us

Please don't cry, i swear I'll
try, to be here by your side

Right after daddy gets
home from the bar
visits his bookie,
and steals a new car
he'll drive to the strip club
and if daddy plays his cards
right, he'll bring home your
new mommy tonight.

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Your lucky numbers are:  4 8 15 16 23 42

Lollapalooza 2006

I love the smell of live music first thing in the morning, that sweaty smoky, stale beer, pot filled air, smells like rock-n-roll.  My brother and I exit the car at one end of Grant Park and begin walking the ¾ of a mile to the far end of the venue where the media tent is located. As were walking, and walking, and walking it dawns on me that flip-flops may not have been the best choice in footwear.  On a good day I walk about 500 yards, mostly between the couch and the fridge, and here it is 15 minutes into the first day and Ive already got a mile under my belt. Theres little doubt its going to be a long weekend, and I dont mean watching the Lord of The Rings long, I mean visiting your great grandma in the old folks home long.

Lollapalooza at first glance is completely overwhelming, especially for an overly-prepared OCD guy like myself.  My three pages of spreadsheets with highlights circles and notes outlining what bands I want to see and interviews I need to conduct, immediately goes out the window when I see the size of the venue.  Proximity is going to be the driving force behind what bands I get to enjoy this weekend, because my fat ass isnt making a mile sprint in the Chicago heat just to hear the Shins play New Slang when I can just as easily hear Matisyahu play Chop Em Down and only have to move 100 feet.  Okay weve established my laziness, now its time to buck up, focus and head out to the first stage, which happens to be right beside the media tent, cause thats how I roll baby.

The Subways take the stage and we get the first of what seems like a thousand How the fuck are you Lollapalooooooooza, that we will hear over the next 3 days.  Riding the success of their Platinum single Rock & Roll Queen, the Subways Josh Morgan said I think tonights going to be our best gig.  The early day slots always seem to be hit and miss, because lets face it most bands have a hard time finding their groove in the mid-day heat.  This was not the case for the Subways who thrashed through their set list as if they had just consumed a case of energy drinks.  

The first band is in the books, and their energy must have been infectious, because I decide to make the trek back across the venue to check out Aqualung.  While the temperatures are cooler than last year, the sun is pretty relentless and the Matthew Broderick line from Biloxi Blues repeats over and over in my head Its hot, Africa hot, Tarzan couldnt take this kind of heat.  Providing a stark contrast in style to the Subways, Aqualung delivers his airy vocals and orchestral melodies to a subdued, but attentive crowd.  Listening to intense quieter music works in the clubs, but when youre standing on hot pavement you need something that will make your feet move, and mine did just that straight over to the food area.

After inhaling an Italian sausage like I was Tony Soprano, it was time to find some shade at one of the side stages.  Local unsigned singer-songwriter Cameron McGill made the most of his first Lollapalooza appearance, delivering a heartfelt set to a crowd who seemed a million miles away from the rest of the madness.  Set amongst large trees and backed by Lake Michigan this stage was the perfect refuge from the heat and pounding guitars that were just across the park.

Looking at my schedule I see that it is time to feel like an old man chaperoning a high school dance, so I head back to one of the main stages where the teenage girls gathered to swoon over Panic! At The Disco.  The first of several 80s retro sounding bands slated for the first day, took the stage in full circus-chic fashion.  Members of the Lucent Dossier Vaudeville Cirque join the band on stage to provide artistic visuals, and also interact with the band members throughout the performance.  To their credit they succeeded in walking the tricky line between theatrics and absurdity. 

Ive always been more of a Motley Crue rather than Depeche Mode kind of guy, but I found myself enjoying the rebirth of what we old folks used call Alternative music, so I saunter across the field to see The Editors.  Despite a relentless touring schedule they manage to energize the crowd mainly through the exaggerated antics of lead singer Tom Smith.  Smith is one of those guys whose voice and body dont quite match up.  To hear this deep booming voice come of out of someone with a Justin Timberlake sized body, took a song or two to get used to.  When asked why they consider themselves a non-rock-n-roll band, bassist Russell Leetch explained that they liked to focus on the music and what they do on stage rather than the being known for what goes on backstage.

With the 80s retro bands in my rearview mirror its now time to get my rock fix, luckily The Raconteurs are sound checking.  From the first notes Jack White plays on his guitar the crowd seems to sense they are going to see a great show.  Whether they are cranking out their radio hit Steady As She Goes, which seems to come at you from every angle or being one of several bands to cover the over-exposed Gnarls Barkleys summer hit Crazy, every moment of their guitar driven set is sonic gold.  There were several great performances on the first day of the festival, but none brought the house down like The Raconteurs.  If I were an elementary school teacher their set would earn the illustrious check/plus in my grade book. 

After some stretching and lots of water I head out of base camp, AKA the media tent, to work my way to the Violent Femmes, who somehow have made an entire career out of ten songs, then past Death Cab for Cutie and eventually home.  Feeling like Mike Tysons punching bag, I slump into the car and try to mentally sort through the days highlights.

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Good morning Uncle Erik!  Oh yeah, my brother has kids, and they wake up early, and by early I mean even Amish parents would tell them to go back to bed.  After crushing my Niece in a couple games of Crazy Eights, I am dressed and ready to head out for day two.  As we arrive back downtown, I seriously start to question whether I am going to make it through the day.  In the back of my mind I know that a couple of great gigs will get me back in the game, and thats precisely what was offered up by the live music Gods.

Skateboarder turned singer-songwriter, Matt Costa, opens the second day of shows with the perfect hangover set.  Quiet and melodic enough to get the musical juices going again, without offending the pounding the ears took the day before.  This moment of tranquility lasts until mid-afternoon when Wolfmother takes the stage and unleashes their take no prisoners brand of classic guitar rock.  They single-handedly set the bar higher than any band that played before them, and arguably anyone who will play after them.  My inner rock child was smiling with its hands raised and locked in the devil horn position.

After Wolfmother rocked the faces off of those in attendance, many of those with their ears ringing walk across the field where the masters of all things costume, Gnarls Barkley, proceed to get to work on their bootys.  The crowd erupts as Cee-Lo and his band of groovy guys and gals take the stage in impeccable tennis whites.  Rob and Amber, of Survivor fame, were seen sitting on the side of the stage feeling the R&B flow.  Most of the set inspires mild head-bobbing, until the much covered hit Crazy when the grassy field became an all out dance floor.  If you like people watching, this was the place to be, because it never gets old watching white people dance.

Now that my face was rocked off and my booty had been shaken, it is time to once again refuel at the food tent.  After downing a couple hot dogs faster than Kobayashi on the 4^th of July, I am off to enjoy the surreal world of Flaming Lips singer Wayne Coyne.  I can only describe a Flaming Lips show as what it would be like if you could get into Willie Wonkas head and then go to his happy place.  Large blue balls danced against the Chicago skyline, as several Santa Clauses and aliens gyrated on either side of the stage.  Confetti and streamers littered the sky as stage hands dressed as superheroes helped Coyne into a large plastic bubble that he used to surf the crowd.  When I asked him about his stage show Coyne said We just try stuff and if it works we go fuck thats cool, but we never really know whats going to work.  On this particular night it all worked and walking away from the stage was like climbing out of Alice in Wonderlands rabbit hole.  I had to turn and take one last look just to make sure what I just saw actually happened.

Checking the schedule once more I see that I have one more band, and then I can sign off on the second day of Lollapalooza 2006.  This years festival was all about making choices, and the bigger names didnt always deliver the best performances.  This was the case with Saturdays headlining acts, the hip-hop media darling, Kanye West and the lesser known Spanish idol Manu Chao.  While 90% of Saturdays attendees were watching a ho-hum set by West who was upset with the audio quality provided by his hometown, the other 10% arguably saw the best show of the weekend.  Manu Chao may not be a household name in the US, but his blend of Latin, reggae and punk had the crowd in a constant state of motion. He made the most of his rare North American appearance and the crowd responded appreciatively trying to savor every precious moment of his time on American soil.  Even though at times I felt like the only gringo at a Spanish wedding, the music transcended the language barrier and everyone came together to share a euphoric experience.  Gracias Manu Chao, gracias.

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Sunday is here and while others more pious than myself head to their respected places of worship I am once again in the car headed to my holy place for this weekend, Grant Park.  What looked so large on Friday, has become almost a second home to me over the three days, and with a sun burnt face and sore legs I am off to see if the Frames can help me get my groove back.  As I make the walk over to the stage, it is easy to tell which fans have are here for the first time and who has been here all weekend.  The newbies all have the look of wonder and expectation, while the veterans have the 1000 yard stare.

The Irish band the Frames seem to be the musical panacea that the weary members of the crowd need to carry on.  The charismatic lead singer Glen Hansard gets the crowd involved early, before they have time to zone out, and he keeps them involved throughout the show.  The best moment of the set comes when music super fan Beatle Bob steps from the shadows to join the band on stage.  Having Bob join a band onstage is similar to Roger Ebert giving a film the thumbs up.  Bob and Hansard engage in a game of old dance craze mimicry that brings a moment of levity and bonds the crowd with the cast on stage.   As Beatle Bob exits Hansard remarks I believe that was quite the honor.

Since its the last day, time to check out some of the non-musical aspects of the festival.  Over at the Mind Freak area they are having an egg tossing Battle Royale, while a cast of characters behind the tent is applying more face make-up than Kiss.  In talking to the director, we find out that a flash mob is getting ready to take place in a few minutes, just one of the many strange events that is scheduled for this area.  Over the course of the weekend, there has been everything from improvisational comedy to film festivals.  Within the past year my brothers hugging of trees has become stronger, so we stroll through Causapalooza checking out some of the various social and environmental groups. 

As we are leaving the area we see some of the sign language professionals who stand at the side of stages and sign the lyrics for the hearing impaired attendees.  This is something I hadnt seen before so we talked to them about how the process works.  There is a sign-up sheet where the hearing impaired can request sign language support for a particular show.  The sign language professionals work in groups of two; one signs the lyrics to the other and they in turn sign the lyrics to the patrons.  The guy doing the signing for the Gnarls Barkley show was dancing so much I think he may have missed some of the lyrics. 

I start to hum Hava nagila, hava nagila, Hava nagila venis'mecha, and that can only mean one thing, its time for some Matisyahu.  Now reggae performed by an Orthodox Jew isnt exactly the typical formula for mass crowd surfing, but immediately after he takes the stage the steady stream of bodies begins flowing as if on a conveyer belt to the front of the stage.  One of the body surfers has on a fake Matisyahu beard, the only problem is that he is crowd surfing on his stomach.  Rule number one of crowd surfing, for obvious reasons, is always stay on your back. He may have learned that lesson the hard way.  Going down my checklist of things to see before I die, I notice that number 294 is to see an Orthodox Jew perform flawless beat box.  I guess I can check that one off.  While the main crux of the crowd sways to the rhythmic beats, it is clear that more than a few fans are setting up camp for the Red Hot Chili Peppers who play later in the evening. 

There is a buzz in the air as fans are slowly pulled like the Millennium Falcon in the Death Stars tractor beam towards one of the main stages for hometown favorite Wilco.  Jeff Tweedy and company are surrounded by several other performers backstage, confirming that they are truly a bands band.  As they take the stage one of the loudest roars of the weekend breaks through the Sunday evening haze.  The band mixes in a nice blend of new songs with old standards, but it really doesnt seem to matter what they play the crowd appears to love them unconditionally, even when Tweedy displays the zit on his forehead he gets a rousing round of applause.  The festival could have closed after Wilco and it would have been a phenomenal event, but alas there are a few more bands left on the schedule.

I have a bittersweet feeling going into the last set of the weekend, I am relieved that the long grueling three days is over, but I am also saddened that I wont be coming back tomorrow for more.  On the main stage Perry Farrell takes a moment to thank all of the hard working people who made the festival possible and to introduce the Red Hot Chili Peppers.  The Peppers start strong, but end up playing an uneven set of older songs, strange covers and new songs without much in between.  Despite their set list, John Frusciante is clearly a force to be reckoned with, as he steals the show with his consummate guitar licks.  Near the end of the show I look out at the sea of fans, the Chicago skyline, Lake Michigan, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, and I realize what Mr. Farrell has known for years, Lollapalooza is truly something special.