This delightful, delicious, de-lovely month of February for the year 2002 begins at the bottom of the page, so make your way down there for all of the sapid details.
February 18th, 2002: I was working Friday night when Mike, my co-worker companion, called to tell me that a band called The Wednesdays were coming to a place called LEGION OF DOOM here in Columbus. I had never heard of LEGION OF DOOM, and Mike acted as if I should have, so I felt super out of the loop and such. He told me that it's on Indianola Ave. right on campus, so I hopped online to find some sort of information about the place. I had decided by Saturday afternoon that I was going to stay home and study for my communications midterm instead of going to the show, but I was still rather interested in finding out what LEGION OF DOOM is all about. So, I found the "official" website at http://members.tripod.com/~thelegionofdoom and learned that LEGION OF DOOM is "a punk house in Columbus OH, where shows, potlucks, and other fun happens pretty regularly". I was intrigued, to say the least. A punk house. I assumed that by calling it this, the webmaster was trying to make it seem comfortable and friendly. But then I read on down the site and found a bit that said, "Smoking, Drinking booze, Doing drugs and Eating meat are bad for you- so please don't do it in our house when bands are playing." Hmm. Our house. As in someone's home. So, I called Mike and made him convince me to forget the JCom studying, which he did well, and called Johnna-of-the-Spanish-Class-I-Took-My-First-Quarter-at-OSU to see if she was up for a little Irish jiggin'. So, as she went to work in the shower, I worked on finding something in my closet that's the least bit punk. Not finding anything that isn't pink or red or blue, I drove naked to Johnna's house and completed my second parallel park in history while she stood in the middle of the street and made fun of my lack of skeelz.
On the way to LEGION OF DOOM, we discussed living situations for next year and the fact that Bethany and I can't settle on a roommate because she's so over-the-edge Christian and all of the people I want to live with are screamin' atheists. And all of the sudden, we found ourselves approaching a creaky gray house from which music flowed and where random men unpacked band-ish gear from a U-Haul trailer. Deciding that it was the place, we passed the guys on the porch who acted as if it was normal that two random girls were allowing themselves inside. Johnna and I really had no idea where we were going, so we just cruised around the house until we happened upon a kitchen full of men. We just kind of looked at them and retreated back to the living room, where the gear-unloading types were bringing an oversized amp through the front door. They must have recognised our confused look and asked some sort of "what's up?" question. I told them that we were there to see The Wednesdays, and one of the guys informed me that The Wednesdays weren't playing that night. I gave them an "eh?", and they explained that The Wednesdays' drummer had to go home unexpectedly, so Nachez Shakers and The (remaining) Wednesdays had joined forces to create a single Irish-accented entity for the night. The amp-movers introduced us to singer/mandolinist Jamie, who we smiled and waved at until they told us to head downstairs if we wanted to see the opening bands.
So, we went down the stairs, and as we reached a dead end, the band boys told us to turn right and go through the hole in the wall. Yeah, that's right. A hole in the wall led to the basement, which was completely black. We couldn't see where the steps ended and the floor began, so a couple of random men at the bottom of the stairs grabbed us to lead us down the path of righteousness. This situation is what one might call frightening if one is named Katie Ett. There I was, being groped in a place called LEGION OF DOOM by men I had never before met. Wait. What am I talking about? That's not scary; that's my idea of a perfect evening. In all seriousness, though, I found it a bit disturbing. I also found it a bit disturbing that LEGION OF DOOM is someone's basement. If I had a basement, I would totally call it LEGION OF DOOM and charge $4 to let people hang out in it. I might even serve cigarettes and chocolate milk in it. Anyway, Johnna led us to a wooden coffin-like thing in the back of the room, which happened to be the very same coffin-like thing that Mike the VTL was leaning against, so as the band finished up, I introduced the two of them. I found it amusing that when Mike offered his name, Johnna asked, "What is it?", as if I don't talk about him all of the time and she doesn't know every little detail of his existence. I don't know if she did it for me or if she really didn't recall his name, but I enjoyed the spectacle thoroughly. Then, Mike found out the unfortunate means by which Johnna and I met, and lots of discussion of lebian activity ensued. At one point, Johnna told the boy in front of us that she loved his curly hair, so he allowed us to touch it before turning around and asking if we were with any of the bands. I told him that we were just there to watch, so he asked if he could collect the $4 that LEGION OF DOOM charges. He didn't demand or hold out his hand or anything; he asked if we would pay. We whipped out our cash as he whipped out his cash box and made change for me. He told us that everything was done on the honour system at LEGION OF DOOM, which I appreciated. I then said that I wished that I could just carry around a cash box and ask that people pay me for random things like hanging out in my basement. And then the curly-haired boy approached a girl and asked for her $4, which she refused because she lives at the house. And then I wished that I had told the curly-haired boy that, because it sounds cool. I live above LEGION OF DOOM. Yeah, that's cool.
Then finally, a little local band called Concrete Angel took the "stage" for the first time in the life of the group. And wow, was it their first time. They weren't bad. Not at all. In fact, I would venture to say that I would go see them again. However, the amount of feedback coming from their amps was incredible and incredibly annoying, but their inability to control it did give me a chance to ponder how appropriate the term feedback is in regard to that squealing noise that comes from amps. Plus, they just went right from one song to the next in an attempt to cover up the sound. The singer's guitar cord sort of died on him, so we waited as one of the other bands grabbed one for him, and the singer was also just flaming nervous. I usually want my singers to act a little anxious, as if they're worried about impressing the audience, but after the band had so many problems, I wanted the singer to be able to shake it off and act like he was totally cool with it. But alas, he stared at the floor and apologised for the mishaps and quietly thanked us for coming out. Plus, I don't think that he had any clue how horrible his singing is. Still, I loved the band's sound, and I loved how supportive the 15 or so people who made up the "crowd" were. There was a "hey, it's your first show!" vibe rather than a "you suck!" vibe, which I found very foreign and wonderful and made me wish I really did have some chocolate milk to pass out at LEGION OF DOOM.
Between bands, Johnna asked which part of her body she should consider piercing next. Mike asked which parts she already has pierced and inquired as to whether they're in places that are appropriate to mention in "mixed company". I asked why Johnna wouldn't be able to mention some places in front of him, and we both proceeded to taunt him with the word vagina repeatedly. So, Johnna gave us a vivid account of her nipple-piercing, and then we discussed lesbian activity some more. Johnna introduced me to the differences between the words straight and heterosexual, which I had never really considered to describe different things before. According to Johnna, straight girls can look at beautiful girls and not be attracted to them in any way, while heterosexual girls can have dirty fantasies about getting on attractive girls but not actually go through with the act. My favourite quote of the night from Johnna was, "I'm not straight, 'cause there have been so many times when I've gotten trashed and made out with a girl." Oh, shut up. It's funny. Mike then told me about an upcoming Further Seems Forever show and the fact that we should carpool with this chick friend of his who plans to go. I agreed, but then Mike changed his mind and decided that the three of us shouldn't go together, because this chick is enamoured of him. (Well, actually, Mike said enamored with, but I won't.) I told Mike that I've been cool with all of the other girls who have been in love with him and wouldn't be bothered by her. I am bothered by the fact that Mike apparently thinks that I am in love with him, though. Or he at least believes that I'm going to off any girl who shows interest in him. I would say that I was totally, totally infatuated with him for about a year, but Mike is too busy worshipping himself to worship me, and really, I could never love anyone who doesn't think I'm a goddess. 'Cause well, I am. I would still allow him to dominate me in whatever fashion he wished if he wanted it, though. No, really. I would.
And then The Wednesdays/Nachez Shakers grabbed their massive amounts of instruments, one of which was an upright bass, and went to work. They are cool. I would venture to call them really flaming cool, in fact. Their songs feature a didgeridoo, all right? That's cool. Plus, they had this tin whistle-playing chick who's pretty much everything I've ever wanted to be in her little scarf and her bulky sweater and her chunky braids looking all cute and emo. Much dancing and drinking song-age ensued for a half an hour or so, at which time everyone flooded the "stage" to talk to the band-types. Johnna and I hung back and basked in the glorious Irish aftertaste, and then she, Mike, and I walked back to her house to grab my car. Johnna's gay roommate was there, and we had to go inside and meet him, since I'm forever leaving my mark on their Caller ID and he had been wondering who I am. He wanted us all to go to a bar, but as I had to work the next day, I left Johnna to her drinking, drove Mike back to his house, and tucked myself in with visions of skulls and sugarplums dancing in my head.
February 4th, 2002: I worked Camp-In this weekend, the overnight thing for Girl Scouts at my science museum. It was quite slow, especially since I was working with Jen, who tells story upon story about her drunken sorority-girl escapades and doesn't care a lick about my life. She claims that I'm too intellectual and have a vendetta against all things fun, while I claim that she wants nothing more than to waste her days with Natty Lite and greasy men. So, I got out my cell phone to pass the time with a call, when I saw that Mike the Volunteer Team Leader from my science museum had given me a ring a few hours earlier. See, The BIG K.N. and I had been walking to Javamastah from our 2:30 class on Friday, and I noticed a Mike's-friend-Tim-looking guy, but I didn't really think it was him until he turned, recognised me, and stopped. Then, I discovered that Mike the Volunteer Team Leader was actually with Tim, despite the fact that Mike isn't an OSU kid. Turns out that he was just accompanying Tim to class for lack of something better to do. After he was through explaining this, I realised that I hadn't yet introduced Mike the Volunteer Team Leader to The BIG K.N., and Mike knows much of her because of this site, so the two met. Like friggin' fate, I swear. I really enjoy the things that people assume about Mike the Volunteer Team Leader just by my stories about him. Tracey believed that his last name was spelled exotically just by his taste in things, and The BIG K.N. imagined before the meeting that he would be short and unattractive. So, I called Mike and told him that The BIG K.N. now thinks that he's all sorts of stud, and we talked for many a minute before he decided to come over for some Camp-In goodness. He confessed that he was merely sitting at home, watching a special on old Super Bowl commercials, with nothing to entertain him, but I think you and I both know that he just wanted to come and see Jen. Uh-huh.
While Mike was on his way, I pulled Chuck behind the desk and told him that I had to discuss something with him. See, a few days ago, I spontaneously decided to submit some of my Day in the Lifes to a writing contest-y thing at OSU and chose the story from July 13th, 2001 about why Chuck dislikes everything about me and thinks I'm less-than-goddess. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, I ran it to the drop-off point without a thought as to whether that would be okay with Chuck or not, but I decided that I should tell him that I did it just in case the thing would ever happen to be used in any way. I didn't think about it being a big deal, but Chuck was disgusted that I wouldn't ask for his permission first and reiterated to me all of the reasons why I'm not a goddess. I told him that his words had been unnecessary, and he told me that I was soft and supple, and I was angry that I had even bothered to try to talk to him about normal, human things. Chuck and I don't have a normal, human relationship, and I should have realised that the only thing we can successfully do is make out and coax each other into bed.
Mike showed up with Pokémon popsicles in grape and lemon flavour, passed them out to the poor, unfortunate Camp-In workers, and went to find fresh Girl Scouts with souls eager to be sold. I went home and went to bed a few hours later, anticipating being back at work at 7 AM Sunday morning.
Coming in at 7 AM for Camp-In mornings was such a treat last year. Chuck and Myron, his cohort, were always at the front desk when I arrived, whereupon Chuck would produce juice boxes from his pants for me, and Myron would try to get into my pants. There was always so much anticipation about what was going to happen between Chuck and me back in those days, and I looked forward to sitting with him in the dark for those 15 minutes before the lights were turned on the the Girl Scouts were made to awaken. When I came in yesterday, Chuck gave me the juice from his pants, all right, but there was next-to-no sexual innuendo surrounding the action, because well, the anticipation of the possibility of sex is gone. Ugh. Instead of being unable to keep away from me, Chuck talked to the other people at the desk, too. Co-worker Rich offered me a Starburst, and when I accepted, he reached in the bag of them and told me that I could have orange, orange, orange, or yellow. I was about to choose orange until Chuck claimed the yellow as his own. I then reached for the yellow, of course, to which Chuck replied, "Of course." And Rich said, "Because she's . . . Katie." But Rich and Chuck were exchanging a glance that told me that I'm much more than just ". . . Katie", though I'm not sure what that is. I was in the midst of unwrapping the yellow when Chuck threatened to not allow me the other juice box in his pocket if I didn't give it up, so the switch was made and I ate an orange. (Remember that, friends; I can be easily bought with juice.) Then, Chuck went off to do his work, stopped by the desk from time to time to drop off something or other, and then went home with a small good-bye. I hate that.