Soooo let's see, let's see... September started with the wonderful knowledge that not only was I already on track to completing #16 of the 26 Golden Things, but that I would also be nailing #17 within a few short weeks. I was going to hold off until the end to reveal #16 because it is embarrassing, but now I look at it kind of as an "oh-what-the-hell" situation, and seeing as I am on the road to correcting it, I might as well reveal it now. So behold, two more entries on the list!
#16 The genetic betrayal; finally resolving a hairy situation.
#17 Fixin' to thrill; see Dragonette live in concert.
Now before I get into the hairy (no pun intended) details of #16, I'd like to preface it by saying that this is CRAZY difficult for me to talk about seeing as it is 1) gross and 2) the part of me I hate the most.
I was born with a hairy back. I want to delete that SO bad because it came out wrong but at the same time it sounds funny to me so it stays. Most people know I'm a hairy guy in general; it's a somewhat defining characteristic of my chest. V-neck shirts reveal it, button-ups reveal it, and so do crew necks on the seldom occasion I wear them. I was actually totally hairless until I turned 17, and then it started coming out. At first I was able to shave it away but then it grew too thick and I let it be its own entity. And I was fine with it, really, because not many other people had it and I felt it made me seem a little bit older and more mature.
When high school ended, it was thinner hair. By the end of summer, it was thicker. A few months after that, I started noticing that it was growing on my back as well, and while I chuckled about it with the few friends I felt comfortable telling it too, I was usually swallowing a big lump in my throat while doing so. They weren't really laughing at me and my "condition," but they were privy to the fact that it was there. And it was embarrassing.
I'll probably say "embarrassing" like 22 more times in this. Let's count together!
Sometimes I'd buy Nair to get rid of it, enlisting the help of a trusted confidant to aide me or stretching my arms to use it myself. As the years went on I became more and more insecure about it (and adept at it.) Nightly I would take a disposable razor (later a Gillette Mach 3 (then later a Gillette Mach 5 Turbo)) and swipe it across my neck and shoulders to make sure no one would notice anything on the back of my neck. I would do the same to my upper arms if I would be wearing a t-shirt the next day. Why didn't I wax? I'm not a glutton for pain... and that costs money.
If you are having trouble imagining the severity of this embarrassing (1) horror, just picture my chest hair on my back. Problem solved. GRANTED, it never gets that long! Just saying! The problem with having a hairy back isn't necessarily the fact that it exists, it is that it makes you paranoid. You see those guys at the beach with back hair that is four-inches long and think about how easy it would be to braid it, and for them, I must applaud. I would love to be that comfortable in my skin but it won't happen for me. Mostly because I think it is gross but also because of that preternatural fear of being judged by other people.
And while some of you (ahem, @markstyleme) think I am the most judgmental person in the world, I'm not. I have an opinion on anything you ask me, but that doesn't make me judgmental. Sure, I AM on certain issues (I mean really, who likes yellow teeth? Or weird eyes, for that matter) but when it comes down to it, it stems from my own insecurities. It's difficult to not be able to go swimming at the drop of hat with your friends or to run around in the summer sun shirtless when the weather screams for it, all because you are afraid of what someone might see. You might be chuckling or laughing at that, but it's one of the few times I'm not laughing as I write it.
Anyway. @caitcd took a job at a great medical spa in Appleton and encouraged me to go ahead with laser hair removal. I'm at a point in my life where the cost of removal is within my grasp, and that's a wonderful thing. The first time I went, an old friend from high school, BJ we'll call her, was the one to perform the treatment. I'd heard from several sources that it wouldn't hurt, just that it would be "uncomfortable." The sentiments were true. It didn't hurt really, not at all. If anything it felt like when you get razor burn and you run your hand on it. That sort of prickly pain? Just like that; brief but noticeable.
I've been in for one treatment and I can already tell the difference in my condition. Six more treatments and it will be gone forever, and I really can't tell you how much that means to me. Not only will I have to find something NEW about myself to be embarrassed (2) about but I'll be able to take my shirt off whenever I WANT! I'm going to be running through the mall topless before you know it! I also won't be able to tell my mom she passed on her curse of a hairy back to me (haha), nor will I be able to make self-referential jokes about being related to a Wookie. No more stubble scratching my arms, no more winces as I look in the mirror. Thank god for cosmetic treatments; ladies am I right?
Ok, enough of that. And no, no pictures. I don't want anyone to lose their breakfast, you'll just have to wait for the movie at the end of the year. Now on to #17!
In August I was poking around on Facebook and came across a link to tickets for one of my favorite bands, Dragonette. I say "one of" because that title gets tossed around a lot and I get choosy. I saw that they were adding tour dates to their tour, specifically to the US which had not been included originally. Upon inspection I saw they would be playing in Chicago at The Metro. Without thinking I bought two tickets (at only $15 a pop, natch) and called @markstyleme to see if he would be down for joining. Without hesitation he said yes.
I decided to include this was a late addition to my list of 26 Things for a couple reasons. The only concerts I had ever been to were ones that I didn't choose, chief among them being Hilary Duff. Yikes (but Come Clean is still a good song, FYI.) So I figured seeing a band, let alone a favorite band, was something I had never before done. Stage was set.
On the 18th @markstyleme and I hitched up Bernice and drove down to Chicago, jamming to the electro-pop tunes of Martina and her boys in the band and musing on how great it would be that night. Couple of school girls, we were. So we checked into our hotel and did some damge with our credit cards downtown, then it was time to get gussied up and over to the theater conveniently down the street.
We didn't admittedly know who the opening act was, but that was alright because we were steps away from amazingness and nothing was going to fuck with that. The theater was smaller than I anticipated (which was fine because that meant less people to get in my way) when we got there, and we were maybe with the first dozen or so people in line. Doors opened at 8 sharp and we were in, scooting through the check-in and into the lobby. When @markstyleme ran to the bathroom, one of the band members walked by and I about shit because I'm that guy when he's sees celebrities (even far-below the a-list ones.)
Seeing that huge banner suspended from the ceiling began to cement the excitement inside of me. We were both very giggly and excited of course, aided by the drinks in our hands. My friend from high school, Miss Rosa, would be meeting us to partake in the festivities as well. Eventually the opening act came on and we were pleased to realize we knew who they were. Express played several of their songs during our tenture at the store, and the best part was when they started remixing other songs right there on the stage. Being a novice to this sort of show, I'd never seen that before and found it incredibly cool. But really I just wanted them to get the hell off the stage so I could see my peeps. You can't tell from here, but that banner is of the lead singer, Martina, whipping her hair.
Perfect.
So the opening guys leave and we are left waiting. No more than twenty minutes goes by before the lights are dimming and I catch a glimpse of them at the side of the stage. We were only three feet away from the stage, which was awesome, and thanks to my OTHER genetic endowments, my height set me above the rest of the people around me. Then the lights really dimmed and the show was on.
At first I was starstruck. I'd watched the music videos for years, I'd danced to the music for years. I'd first heard Dragonette back in 2008 while working at Express and the song was "We Rule the World." A quick Google search at home led me to finding more music and the subsequent downloading of it. I've been following them since. I've done this with other bands but none quite like them. I think the fact that they haven't blown up in the US yet is what makes me like them even more, because I feel special in knowing they exist. But here they were, all three of them, just a few feet away and busting out "I Get Around" while the crowd went nuts. I went nuts too.
At one point in the beginning she was singing right at me. And I know a lot of people say that, but... really, she was signing right at me. @markstyleme can confirm. After a couple seconds of not breaking eye contact and me smiling like a total tool (I'm sure) I grabbed his leg to see if he was noticing it as well. And he was. She did this a couple times during the show and I am sure it was only because my head jutted out above the rest, but still. It made me feel important.
It made it all feel special and real in a way I hadn't thought it would. Surreal, actually. I know it sounds silly when I say it but this concert was just what I needed. I needed to be grabbed by the shoulders and lifted out of something... lifted out of the ditch I've been slowly rolling backward into. I needed to look into the eyes of someone I really enjoyed without ever even talking to and feel like I existed. She sang all of my favorites (Easy, Black Limousine, Let it Go, Hello, and yes, even the song the blog is titled after (Fixin' to Thrill)) and left me wanting more and more. When the show was over and the music stopped, @markstyleme and I scooted to see if we could find the band.
Alas, we couldn't, but it didn't matter. We had gotten what we came for. We walked the blocks to a couple bars in a sort of happy daze, rehashing our favorite parts and dancing a few little jigs in the street as well. It wasn't the EXPLOSIVE ending that would have made the night one that would be talked about for years to come, but it was a night spent with my best friend, in a city I love, with a band that I love... and how could that be wrong?
So now you know two more of the 26 Things, one mostly embarrassing (3 (didn't think I'd stop counting, did you? (I know I didn't hit 22 (boo)))) and one that re-charged my batteries for the next three months of 2012.
#16 The genetic betrayal; finally resolving a hairy situation.
#17 Fixin' to Thrill; see Dragonette in concert.
I'll try to post more often; you can always scream on my fan-page if you want to hear from me more. I mean, really, what's the point in HAVING that page if no one squeals in delight when I post? Until then, toodles gang (c: I leave you with my favorite Dragonette song; listen and love it.
