Flogging Molly was Awesome.
Punk Rock Karaoke was Awesome.
Bouncing Souls were Awesome.
Dead to Me was Not Awesome.

The most surreal point of the night was the cute short chick who came up to me, started grinding her ass into my crotch dancing, then apologized. I said “Uh… don’t worry about it” and she continued to be all grindy, then went back to her boyfriend who was standing right next to me and the second hugest guy in the place, dance with him for a minute, then spend the rest of the set dancing up in my business. At one point she said “You make a good back rest” which is more or less one of the weirder compliments I’ve gotten. And between songs she was all leaning up on me, and her boyfriend would look over and I could see him glaring at me out of the corner of my eyes so eventually I escaped a chick grinding on my crotch by bailing into a raging mosh pit. Which was sortof effective, if not for the smog machines and people smoking inside so soon my fatass was ready to have an asthma attack, and right as I was trying to decide which was the better choice, getting my ass kicked by some huge guy because his girlfriend though I made a good stripper pole, or dying a slow choking death in the mosh pit, some chick infront of me fell down (who throws toilet paper into a mosh pit) and I fell down ontop of her. My mind said “Help her up” so I went to hook my hands around her arms and pull her up, only my asphixiating brain didn’t realize that in order for me to help her up, I had to be standing. So now instead of rising smoothly and pulling her with me, I was laying ontop of her, gasping, with my arms around her madly jerking her against my body. Luckily I somehow regained my footing before everyone though I was just having my way with the first chick to fall down in the mosh pit.

All in all it was a great show, but Im still trying to clear all the crap out of my lungs. Gofberg knows how to do the bday right.

So now I get to go home, go to bed, wake up, and cram for a final I haven’t really studied for that I have to take in less than 12 hours. I’m so boned. (oh and I have 0 gas in my car and need to coast to a gas station… punk rawwwwk)

I blame Punk Rock, Women and Booze, more or less in that order. So this is me throwing up the horns, blasting some Rancid in my car and hoping that I make it to a gas station so I can pass out and take a test bleary eyed and choking tomorrow, then… FREEDOM!