HI! My middle name is awkward.

Last night Laurel surprised me with an early birthday present [my birthday is OCTOBER 15th put it in your calendar] and took me to a concert at our local adorable music hall.  It was a rainy dreary night and I was secretly reluctant to go out BECAUSE MY FACE IS STILL SWOLLEN.

Regardless, we made our way into the teeny tiny venue/restaurant and we were seated front and center of the teeny tiny stage. We got comfortable and ordered some beer and French fries in preparation for a surely awesome concert.

The opener came out.

So did the demons inside of us.

The opening act was so talented, so nervous, and looked like he was about 15. The first words out of his mouth gave way to the fact that he was from Nashville, Tennessee.  This was when Laurel and I got inappropriate. We have a disease and the main symptom is we talk too loudly.



Yes, these are actual excerpts from our conversation. This is the room we were in. Clearly he could hear us. Then Ali got there.


Do all my friends have this disease? Maybe. Why didn’t we get kicked out you ask? No idea. To be fair, we weren’t really aware of how loud we were actually being. This doesn’t make it better it just makes me feel better. OKAY?!

After Tyler James finished his set we anxiously awaited the main event and what drew us to the concert in the first place. Griffin House is a sweet unique singer that looks a little too much like an emaciated Bono.

We were all slightly in love with G. House [well, except Ali maybe] and proclaimed this love in the same loud fashion as before at our tiny table in the middle of the room. We sat there swaying to his sweet ballads, commenting how Bono-ish he looked while our waitress flashed us maybe a thousand times.

[One particular song was hilarious, called Woman with the Beautiful Hair. His preface: one day he was sitting around remembering the angst and heartache of a break up in 9th grade. His skankalicious GF left him for a senior basketball player. G. House then admitted to spending his nights lying in bed fantasizing about killing the man who took his love away. So he wrote a murder ballad. How perfect is that. The chorus went something like “I wanna take you down to the river….and watch you drownnnnnn”. We’ve all wanted to kill someone…right? Anyone?]

When the show ended my gaggle and I were high on live music and greasy food, ready to conquer the rest of the evening [see: play Mario Kart]. As we were getting ready to leave G. House announced he would be standing at the door to say his hellos to the crowd [see: 30 people] as we left.  Now readers, you must understand something. I love music and feel it in my bones, but I don’t know how to be a groupie. In fact, I have such a strong aversion to being a groupie that I don’t even know how to have a normal conversation with a performer.

[side tangent: As young children [16] Laurel and I went to an Aesop Rock show. We were standing in the back of the club when a creepy hooded guy tried to “spit game” if you will. In true Laurel and Avalon form we frowned and ran away. Then the hooded guy went on stage. And introduced himself as Aesop Rock. Groupies all over the world: 1, Avalon and Laurel: 0].

After about 2 seconds of waiting in line for G. House we decided we had to leave, so we tried to skip the line and dip out of the only door as quickly as possible. Unfortunately there was a break in the crowd, and we ended up face to face with G. House himself.  Normal people in our situation would have shaken his hand, told him his music is inspiring, and flashed him a big smile before braving the rain. That is not what we did, we are not normal.

We practically sprinted by him, made 2 second eye contact, mumbled unintelligible words and fled.


And that is the story of how we almost met Griffin House.




Beyonce had the best video of all time.

Have you missed me?! It’s been ages [about 5 days] since my last post, and I feel as though I’ve betrayed and abandoned my baby birds.

I’m sorry baby birds.

The reason for my abnormally long hiatus is that I was voluntarily undergoing a brutal form of torture.

I had my wisdom teeth out.

I know that Tbaby wrote all about her wisdom teeth already, but now you have to hear about mine.

Anyone that knows me already knows this because I complained about it for the last three months. It was an awful experience and everything I had hoped it wasn’t.  I was reassured countless times that it was a breeze and I would be in tip top shape in no time.  I am in the process of editing my “true friends” list because I believe I was lied to a number of times.

Presumably sensing my nerves, my dentist prescribed me some anti anxiety medicine to take before my appointment, probably so I wouldn’t punch him in the face and run out drooling everywhere.

After a deep sleep of four hours, I jumped out of bed to take this so called anti-anxiety medicine. Let me just be up front here: it didn’t do shit. I kept waiting to feel calm, and the calm never came. In fact, not only was I anxious about getting my teeth torn from my skull, I was also anxious about feeling anxious. Talk about fail.

When I arrived at the dentist office, they treated me like an unruly drunk. They approached me with caution and asked in the most condescending/scared voice ever:

“How ya feelin’?” Implying that I must be hallucinating rainbows and unicorns at this point.

Still unaffected by the supposed drugs I took, I answered “I’M NERVOUS”

“Oh ok.”

Well that was helpful.

They left me in the dentist chair for an entire hour so my medicine could “kick in”. NEWS FLASH, NOTHING WAS HAPPENING. I tried to think about other things aside from my impending suffering but couldn’t help but notice the attending nurse kept asking everyone an awful lot of questions.

“Are you new?” I accused.

“Oh yes! I graduated in May!”


I started making my will on my well-loved droid.

FINALLY the dentist came in and novocained my entire mouth. Including the roof of my mouth.  Necessary? No. Twenty minutes into novocaine land, I no longer had a mouth and I was legitimately concerned that I might swallow my tongue. I expressed this concern to Taryn via gchat in the dentist chair [not even oral surgery can tear us apart] and she told me it was impossible. She was right, and wrong.

After the dentist had sawed my wisdom teeth in half and ripped them out of my mouth I lay there with a blood soaked bib on my chest wishing death upon all dentists.

Two seconds later the nurse was informing me I was all set. As I got out of the chair, she informed me that it was office policy that she help me to the car. Seriously.

She walked me arm in arm to Ben’s car. Did I mention the drugs never did anything for me?

I happened to catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror in the car, and what did I see? Blood on my nose. A SPOT OF BLOOD ON MY NOSE. Clearly there was a massacre in my mouth.

Three days later I am on a liquid diet still and my face looks like it gained 20 pounds. Oh, and I’m at work.

Thanks for nothing, wisdom teeth.


Ps My dentist is actually really nice.

My Face Says Hi

When I was little I didn’t understand the concept of Wisdom Teeth.  I thought they were a good thing. Why do people want to get them out? More teeth means better chewing, right?…then I turned 20. And realized THEY SUCKED SO BAD.

They did not make me wiser.

They did not make chewing better.

What they DID do was shift my teeth every so slightly, thus forever messing up my retainers. Oh and of course I had the joy of random tooth aches, followed by throbbing head aches. All in all, wisdom teeth WERE THE DEVIL.

It wasn’t until last year that I got those bad boys out of my life, forever. I was one of the lucky ones who went under while they scraped and beat and picked and cut and did whatever they have to do to get four (yeah, I got all four out like a champ) humongous teeth.

Now, for those of you who have ever “been under”, it is such  A CRAZY EXPERIENCE. You think things that are just weird, and instead of keeping the craziness inside, the medicine makes you VERBALIZE THEM. It’s essentially vodka…just in gas form.

My sister, Kasey, got hers out a couple weeks before me and after hearing her stories (ie she told everyone in the room she hated Tracy Chapman) I was SO WORRIED I’d embarrass myself.

I didn’t.

Thank goodness. I did, however, express to everyone my need for chapstick (or so I remember, Mom correct me if I am wrong). I ALSO drooled like I was a crazy person. My mom did take advantage of my state of mind and took pictures…I may share. We’ll see how  I feel.

ANYWAY. Avalon got her’s out today. She was texting me throughout the medicine kicking in process. (she unfortunately didn’t get to “go under”. Numbing medicine clearly makes you silly too). HILARIOUS.

It started off her being nervous about the procedure. Then followed by her saying she couldn’t feel the bottom half of her jaw (Avalon, please enlighten us later on this sensation. I’m curious). Then that escalated to her not wanting to swallow her tongue. Then as she was saying she had to go, she left me with this gem of a message…

“My face says hi”.

I apologize to both Kasey and Avalon (and Tracy Chapman, Kasey didn’t mean it) for telling their stories. I’m even more sorry for uploading your pics later on today.

Feel better Av!