Comedian Jenée: People are Idiots

Green Day: Los Angeles

I’m a little slow in recapping Tuesday night’s show at the Forum because the intense contact high from massive amounts of weed is just wearing off. The scent is to be expected at a concert for a band who derived their name from smoking bud all day but the kids really outdid themselves in their pot consumption for Green Day’s final U.S. tour stop.

The evening got off to a bad start for me. When I purchased the tickets a few months ago, I did so as soon as they went on sale and selected “best available.” The two tickets that popped up appeared to be killer seats just to the side of the stage so I snatched them up but on closer inspection I realized they were actually in the upper section. So I made another attempt and picked up a floor ticket.

Because of my Green Week tour, I was a bit slow about unloading the extra tickets so the night before the show I offered them to my brother and his wife and he turned them down. So in the recent past both my brother and sister have declined Green Day tickets, my mom and aunt said they didn’t even know who they were and my two nephews (age 6 and 8) refuse to even listen to any music that isn’t by AC/DC or Alice Cooper. I’m down to my dad, older brother and 96-year-old grandpa as the only hopes left in my family.

I tried hustling the tickets in the parking lot but I’m a horrible salesperson under the best of circumstances and when doors opened I wanted to get a decent spot on the floor so I let them go for a painfully low price but thanks to the Phoenix tickets I sold, I still came out ahead for the week.

Venues always say no cameras allowed but at the San Diego show the security guys said they didn’t really care about little digital cameras just not the fancy professional ones. To be on the safe side, I tucked my camera into my cleavage and had no problem getting past their pat down, which consisted of a finger slide down the sides of the arms and legs. Since I had a seat at the Phoenix show I didn’t bring the camera but I put it in my familiar spot for the L.A. show. I couldn’t believe it when the security lady pressed her hand between my breasts. I was quite literally busted! With no other reasonable hiding places on my body, I had to make the long haul back to my car and settle for taking pictures with my camera phone instead.

I squeezed into a spot about 15 feet from the stage right next to a couple with their 8-year-old son. I warned them that the surge when Green Day took the stage would be really intense so they needed a little barrier around the boy. When the kid heard I’d been to other shows this week, he asked if they played “She.” “She” is an old song they always play but I was surprised he’d even heard of it. It turned out this wasn’t a situation where the parents dragged the kid to the show but the other way around. Needless to say, I rather liked the kid at that point and signed up for security detail on his behalf.

Just as the drunk bunny finished up his set signaling that the show was about to start, two bitches shoved their way through the crowd, knocking into a bunch of us, including the kid. I yelled, “Hey! Watch it!” and one shot a few insults my way. At that point, a sizable amount of my drink may have accidentally spilled on her. Probably noticing that I was a good four inches taller than her, she moved a few paces away from me and then punched me a couple times on the arm. Then she tried to make a dash through the crowd and somehow some of her long hair got caught in my tight hand grip. I know, I know. It was all stupid and immature and I’m not usually the scrapper type but their shoving really pissed me off, especially where Green Day’s mini fan base was concerned.

My joy over the little tyke waned as I and a couple others really did seem like we were on duty to protect the kid and I was disappointed that he didn’t want to go onstage for a very cool stunt during “East Jesus Nowhere.” Luckily the family hightailed it after about half an hour and I was able to bounce to my heart’s content.

I was actually satisfied being farther back than I was at the San Diego show because I wasn’t crushed against people. But when a group of guys finished moshing leaving a large gap on the floor that wasn’t filled by the people in front of me, I couldn’t resist a little “Excuse me, please” as I passed them to move forward to within a couple feet of the stage. As I mentioned in the San Diego blog, I watched the end of that show from the back of the pit so it was cool to be up close this time around.

One of the coolest moments was when Billie Joe took a stage dive with his guitar into the crowd, a risky move among a pack of rabid fans. Watching the panicked scurrying of the security team as they got him back up within seconds was rather amusing.

The show was again mostly the same. I was disappointed that I never got to hear three of my favorite songs off their new album (“Horseshoes and Handgrenades,” “Viva la Gloria!” and “Peacemaker”) but I was thrilled during the L.A. encore that Billie Joe played an acoustic version of “Macy’s Day Parade,” which I never thought I’d hear live.

But the absolute coolest moment of my whole tour came after the show ended. Billie Joe had just finished “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” which is always the last song so I turned to leave when I noticed a commotion from the crowd. Drummer Tré Cool had run back onstage and threw his drumsticks into the crowd. The insane scramble to grab them left about a dozen of us on our butts. As I stood back up, I saw a drumstick underneath me and snatched it up! It’s even got the groove marks on it (which I stupidly thought were teeth marks at first). As exciting as it was at the moment, I later realized it’s just one more piece of crap that I have no use for but can’t throw away. Maybe someday my nephews will wise up and appreciate Green Day and I’ll pass it on to them after I become that asshole who brings the kiddies to one of their concerts. And I totally would because a Green Day concert is an incredible experience and I would be thrilled to be able to share it with them.

My Green Day photo album (more pics and videos to come soon).

Green Day: Phoenix

Phoenix was the second stop on my whirlwind Green Week tour. About 30 seconds after I arrived at the venue I ran into one of the guys I’d talked with in line and on the floor at the San Diego show (so I’m not the only Green Day stalker–one woman told me she’d been to 12 Green Day concerts just this summer)! I was immediately embarrassed that I was wearing mostly the same outfit I’d worn to the previous show until I noticed he still had his wristband on, a clear indication that he is way too young for his body to have been pressed so intimately close to mine in the mobbed pit.

As I mentioned before, I sold my floor tickets in lieu of my very first seat at a Green Day concert but it was in the upper section. Before the show started, I walked into the arena and started chatting with Jerry the usher. After a few minutes he asked where my seat was and I pointed up. He suggested I come back just before Green Day took the stage so I headed off to the lounge and tossed back a Dookie, which is probably the worst name ever for a cocktail (though much tastier than the name suggests). I returned to my buddy Jerry who pointed me toward the VIP row with cushy seats, monitors and a table right off the side of the stage– score! With a place to put my purse and drink and plenty of room to dance, I had no complaints about not being crushed on the floor.

The set list was mostly the same as was the timing of the explosions so I didn’t crap myself every time I heard one. The most noticeable difference in the lineup was in the encore. At the San Diego show they played a great song that I didn’t recognize. I looked it up afterward and found out it’s an unreleased song called “Drama Queen” that they’ve only performed a couple of times so it was a treat to get to hear it and I’m glad I shot some video of it (albeit a bit shaky):

At the Phoenix show, one of the encore songs was “Jesus of Suburbia,” a nine minute tune that I love and never thought I’d get to hear live again. Singer Billie Joe picked a guy from the audience to play lead guitar for it and he actually did a good job. Like the three or four other people brought on stage at each show, he ended his rock star fantasy moment with a stage dive into the crowd. I’m sure the people directly in front of center stage weren’t so thrilled were their roles in the fantasies.

With two shows down and one to go, I’m already lamenting the fact that they weren’t spaced farther apart. I feel such inspiration (not to mention, perspiration) after seeing Green Day. They’re brilliant artists who put on a top notch show. Tuesday’s concert at the Forum may be the last time I see them for awhile so I’ll just have to take in every second and ride that post-show high as long as I can.

My Green Day photo album (more pics and videos to come soon).

Green Day: San Diego

My Green Week tour kicked off in San Diego last night. I arrived early to find the General Admission Floor line was already about 500 deep. As I took my place at the end, a girl walked up to her friends in front of me and said she’d accidentally bought an extra ticket (idiot count: 1) and “that’s a waste of 50 bucks” (after fees, tickets were 60 bucks. Idiot count: 2). Two seconds later, a guy walked past the line yelling, “Anybody have a ticket? I need a ticket.” She was completely oblivious (idiot count: 3). Since it’s apparently my job to keep track of all the conversations within 20 feet, I butted in and said, “Didn’t I hear you say you have an extra ticket? That guy wants to buy one.” She turned and responded to him and he offered her 30 bucks for her ticket. I couldn’t believe the balls on the guy offering such a ridiculously low amount for a floor ticket. But then she excitedly said, “Sure!” (idiot count: 1 million). I was about to inform her that she could probably get a couple hundred bucks for the ticket but she seemed so pleased with the deal that got her half of what she paid for the ticket that it didn’t seem right to side with the idiot over the lucky bastard.

Despite the long line, I had no problem finding a place on the floor within several feet of the stage but I had to commit to it through the one hour before opening band Franz Ferdinand took the stage and the other hour until Green Day finally came out. Soon after they started I was able to move even closer as parents in front of me tried to escape the mob scene with their small children because I guess there was no way for them to predict that would be a really really bad situation for kids.

I was even closer to the stage than I’d been for the Wiltern show four years agobut being a stadium performance, this had the hot blasts from pyrotechnics combined with greater crowding to leave me drenched in sweat. I got a little respite when singer Billie Joe Armstrong sprayed the crowd with a monstrous water gun but then some big guys started slam dancing and after two hours I couldn’t take it anymore and had to escape for a little air. I missed a couple songs and when I returned had to take a spot at the back of the pit, which was still only about 30 feet from the stage but it seemed like a mile considering I’d been close enough to read Billie Joe’s tattoos a little while earlier.

All in all, it was another fabulous Green Day concert– lots of special effects, crowd work and great music. They played about six songs from their new album (though not my favorite, “Viva la Gloria!”), about five from “American Idiot” and a few songs from each of their other albums for a performance that lasted almost three hours. Tomorrow night is the Phoenix show where I have a reserved seat and even though I’ll be a lot farther from the stage, my legs and sweat glands will probably appreciate it.

Green Week

Anybody who knows me well knows I love Green Day. Except my mom, who recently said she’d never heard of them (even though she claims to read my blog) and when I played a couple of their most famous tunes on my phone, she just shrugged. So now I’m left wondering if I should even have someone like that in my life. But I digress.

I like Green Day so much that a day just isn’t enough. I need a Green Week, which I’m about to have as I hit up their concerts in three cities. The first stop is San Diego then I’ll go directly to Phoenix where my sister’s family lives. I had offered to take her to the concert there but being the weasel that she is, she waited until after I bought the tickets before telling me she’d be in Vegas over the weekend and “Oh, since you’ll be here, can you watch the kids?” Sure,  I’ll watch the kids and I’ll have them cursing like sailors by the end of my stay. To make it worse, I told her Green Day would be in Vegas while she’s there and she suggested she might go but of course I can’t join her because I’ll be watching her kids.

I can’t complain, though, because it actually turned out better this way. Because she canceled, I decided to buy a seat for myself and sold the two floor tickets for just enough to cover my tickets at all three concerts so it’s all good.

The final stop will be here in L.A. at the Forum for which I’m waffling between the seat and floor tickets I have. Clearly I was very excited and indecisive when tickets went on sale but based on how well the Phoenix tickets sold, I’m thinking all these tickets were a wise investment in this economy.

Since Green Day were the inspiration for me starting this blog almost four years ago and many of my early posts were about them, I’m hoping they’ll work their magic again and I’ll be back to regular blogging. In the meantime, let my 21st Century Breakdown commence!

I’m So Depressed

I’m pretty buzzed right now so excuse me if I ramble on and make a bunch of typos. But I really am more depressed than I’ve been in a long time so I did a few shots of Jaeger. In my early 20′s I used to do about five shots of Jaeger just to get the night started but it’s been several years since I’ve done even one. I have to admit I gagged doing them tonight. Guess I’m out of practice. And no, the depression is not because Lost had its season finale and it will be nine months until there’s a new episode. I’m actually trying to hold off on watching the finale as long as humanly possible (which will probably only be another 15 minutes).

In order to explain my depression I have to first make a confession: I attended the American Idol finale. In fact, I’ve attended every AI finale except the Ruben/Clay showdown. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve bartended at the last five Academy Awards ceremonies, all of which have been held at the Kodak Theatre- like the American Idol finales. The way it works at the Kodak is there is an online availability system, so basically, if there’s an event I want to attend I can just sign myself up as available.

As I’ve also mentioned, the reason I ever even started to watch AI is because one of my weekly poker buddies co-hosted the show the first season. And toward the end of it, he started sending me the scripts to do punchups on them (he was given some seriously ghastly lines). I didn’t make any major rewrites, just your basic punchup stuff. So it was actually somewhat amusing to me that I’d contributed to the number one tv show in America, but the only way I could attend the finale was as a bartender. But I did. On a side note, I’d told my friend that I’d be at the finale and that I’d try to find him. I couldn’t locate him so I slid a note under his dressing room door. I wrote something like, “You’re so cute and you’re a much better host than Ryan. You’re the greatest! All my love, Becca. P.S.- Nobody plays Network Executive like you do.” Becca was some girl on the American Idol forum who was totally obsessed with my friend. But Network Executive was the name of a goofy poker game we used to play. So I thought he would know the note was a joke from me. He didn’t. The next time I saw him I asked if he got my note. He said, “That was from YOU? I seriously thought Becca was stalking me.” When a comic causes such unnecessary stress to a regular person then the comic apologizes. When a comic does such a thing to another comic, then the comic laughs his (or in this case, MY) ass off.

Fast forward. The reason I didn’t admit that I’ve attended the AI finales is that I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that I even watch the show, I don’t want to seem like some crazed fan because I’m really more of an unhappy addict. Honestly, I’ve never called in to vote for any of the contestants. Ok, that’s a lie. I did call and vote for Kelly Clarkson in the finals. And I hit redial twice. Then I realized how insignificant my three measly votes were and decided that was stupid. Apparently I forgot about how insignificant my votes were two years later as I once again called to vote for Fantasia. Just one vote though, because I remembered she was competing against Diana DeWhocares and she would do just fine without my votes. That’s the last time I voted. I swear. Not even for Chris Daughtry.

Whereas bartending at the Oscars is actual work, bartending for AI isn’t. I go in for three or four hours and for only an hour I do what could barely be considered labor. I pre-pour about 100 complimentary sodas from- who else?- Coke. Then I server a bunch of cocktails to celebrities who are only there in the hopes of getting two seconds of face time before 30 million viewers. Like the Oscars, we’re supposed to shut down 15 minutes before the show starts but with AI, there’s a little more leeway for serving the latecomers I want to siphon money from (like Teri Hatcher) while seconds later refusing those I’m hoping will throw a tantrum (like David Hasselhoff- I didn’t even ask what he wanted before telling him “no.” He came back later for a Diet Coke, which I now realize I should have spiked just for entertainment’s sake). Afterwards I can go in and watch as much of the show as I want. I mention all this to make it clear that I’m not putting in a ton of effort just so I can go to the stupid AI finale. It’s just hard to pass up a show that’s right around the corner for which I can actually get paid to be at. Comprende?

My American Idol finale presence miserably explained, on to the depression part. While breaking down the bar I caught some of the notable performances on the lobby tv, such as from Gwen Stefani, Gladys Knight and Smokey Robinson. I told the other bartender I didn’t really care to go in and see any of them. The only performers I’d rush in for would be Green Day and there’s no way they’d be on a show like this. I added that American Idol always features solo artists rather than bands anyway.

Not ten minutes later I heard Ryan introduce Green Day.

Anybody whose read my blog for any length of time should know I really like Green Day. It borders on the creepy way that a lot of people like American Idol. In fact, Green Day was indirectly responsible for me even starting this blog and my first post was about them. I’ve been waiting over two years for a new album and tour but have had to settle for just one televised performance from them in the last year (with U2 at the re-opening of the Louisiana Superdome last September). And their next scheduled appearance is in the “Simpsons” film. In animation. Not the same thing.

As soon as Ryan uttered the word “Green” I bolted. The last time I moved that fast was probably at the Green Day concert at the Wiltern when Billie Joe invited more people to come down to the pit. Nothing lights a fire under me more than Green Day does. I entered the door in the orchestra section so I’d be right next to the stage. But I couldn’t see the band. There was a scaffolding blocking my view somewhat so I moved around a little bit. Still couldn’t see them. Then a security guard who had witnessed my mad dash to the theatre came in and told me that Green Day had taped their performance just before the show. A two-hour live finale and the only two taped segments were the Ford video and Green Day’s performance. Unfuckingbelievable. So then I asked what time they taped their set. The guy told me it was around 3:30, just about the time I came in for the day. That’s when I almost lost consciousness. After arriving, I had entered the theatre for a little while to check out the rehearsals and saw the performances of Kelly Clarkson and Carrie Underwood, massive curlers in their hair and all. But apparently, for some “let’s fuck Jenée” reason, when I went to set up the bar, the feed to the theatre was turned off ONLY for the taping of the Green Day segment. I was fifty feet away from having a semi-private Green Day performance and didn’t even know it. I could have ambushed them at their dressing rooms but I didn’t even know they were in the building. Why is life so cruel?

After the show, I exited through the backstage area and passed all the idol contestants, including Jordin and Blake. I wanted to hug Blake and tell him I understood the disappointment he was feeling because I was feeling a disappointment of a similar kind. (Admittedly, when it comes to Green Day, my perspective on things may be a bit skewed).

Now for some weird little coincidences in the situation… Earlier in the afternoon one of the bartenders reminded me that I had sung the praises of Green Day’s “American Idiot” album a while back and had promised to burn copy of it for him to check out. I had made him the cd but then I didn’t see him for a long time and completely forgot about it. When he mentioned it, it occurred to me that I might still have the disc in my bag, which I did and gave it to him. I made the disc about a year and a half ago and I’ve seen him several times since yet he happened to pick today to bring it up and chat a bit about the band.

The second coincidence is that on the way to the Wiltern Theatre show in October ’05, my tire blew out on the freeway. Last night, I started to pull out of my parking space and discovered one of my tires was suddenly completely flat. Two flats in my entire life and both were right before opportunities to see Green Day. I’m getting all new tires tomorrow but I swear, the next time I get a flat, the very first thing I’m doing is checking on the whereabouts of Green Day.

*UPDATE A FEW HOURS LATER*- My major disappointment in missing Green Day’s set is because they’re such amazing performers. I just saw their set on the show and they did nothing. I mean, they barely even moved. So that makes me feel much better that I didn’t miss much and you should be happy to know the razor blades have been returned to their proper locations.

Dream Overanalysis

I always begin my sleep with a nice little fantasy. I mention this because I learned a couple years ago that not everybody does so. Some people put their head on the pillow and think about their day or what they have to do the next day. That seems like a lousy way to spend your downtime. I don’t know if there’s a correlation, but from the people I’ve discussed this with, the ones who start with a fantasy seem to be better sleepers. It’s something for you restless worrywarts to consider.

So I have a catalog of fantasies that I rotate. The usual stuff: career goals, wild adventures and of course romance are a few. For a long time my stud of choice was John F. Kennedy Jr. but after he died I tried it a few times and it just seemed creepy. Some might think that dreaming about any celebrity (dead or alive) is creepy but it’s easy since the face and personna have already been established so I don’t have to create a backstory. Why don’t I dream about guys I actually know? Because I don’t know any that are dream-worthy. It should come as no surprise that after John John I moved on to George Clooney. I actually have a fun one with him where we’re the only two survivors of a plane crash and land on a Lost-type island with a fully stocked hatch. And of course he falls madly in love with me. That should tell you the level of my self-esteem when even in my fantasies I know the only way I could nab Clooney is if I’m the only woman available. But other men occasionally make guest appearances in my dreams. For a brief time last fall, I even had a dream-fling with Billie Joe Armstrong (lead singer of Green Day), all 5’8″ of him- tattoos, eyeliner, snaggletooth and all. But I usually stick to the pretty boys like Antonio Sabato Jr. and Ricky Martin, who pop in on occasion (and in my dreams, Ricky’s definitely straight).

Then there’s the financial windfall dream. It used to be a result of hitting the jackpot on Megabucks (which would be hard to do because I never even play that slot) but now it’s a little closer to home through winning the World Series of Poker, which last week made one guy $12 million richer. In that fantasy, the pivotal moment comes when I’m in second chip position to Dan Harrington. He makes a preflop raise and I reraise with my pocket kings. He then goes all in and I’m faced with a dilemma: anybody else, I’d call immediately but the tightest player in poker just went all in against the only person who can really do his stack any damage. But how can I lay down kings??? After a long delay and a promise that he better not think he can bully me again, I fold my kings face up and he shows me pocket aces. The crowd goes wild at my stellar read and tremendous restraint in folding (not realizing it’s just because I’m chickenshit and pocket kings always seem to get me knocked out of tourneys). Somewhere along the way, Harrington is gone and I’m head-to-head with Phil Ivey. I BEG him to split the prize money and even tell him he can have the title and bracelet but he refuses. Then I kick his ass and win the $15 million (it was $12 million this year but I expect it to be $15 million when I win it). I play the good sport but inside I’m thinking, “THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for not taking my offer, Ivey! Woohoo!” Then the dorky announcer Norm Chad (a guy I’ve actually played with in home games) asks me what I’m going to do with the money and I tell him I’m going to take it all to the craps table and put it on Big 6 or Big 8. My friend Courtney laughs hysterically but nobody else gets it and thinks I’m a moron for placing the worst bet in the house. Then Phil “The Unabomber” Laak is so impressed with me he dumps Jennifer Tilly and he and I ride off into the poker sunset (ok, that’s not in the dream but I do think we’d make a good couple. Maybe I’ll add him to the lineup).

So now I have $15 million dollars. I don’t need that much so I decide to give a lot of it away (because that’s how I roll ;) ). And this is where my dream takes a major downward spiral. I should be thinking about fabulous vacations on enormous yachts or sunning by the pool at my spectacular mansion while Pedro (my cabana boy) brings me pina coladas and sprays me with mist whenever he makes me too hot. I mean, whenever the sun makes me too hot. But instead I’ve got checks for $1 million dollars to give to each of my family members and suddenly I’m trying to figure out taxes and deductions through charitable donations. I actually work all that stuff out in my dream! If there are two things that don’t belong in fantasies, they’re children and math. I guess feces would be another. But I find myself doing this more and more. Even the romance dreams have gone downhill while I work out details like getting the guy out of his marriage and somehow eliminating any pesky offspring from that marriage. Or I’m trying to figure out exactly how Clooney and I managed to be the only survivors of the plane crash (plane goes down remarkably slowly in water. Apparently Clooney’s at the back of first class while I’m at the front of coach and we both lunge for the emergency exit. We grab the rope to an automatically inflating raft that’s on a plane for some unknown reason- sometimes I have to fudge reality a bit- and it yanks us up to the surface while everybody else plummets to their deaths. Bummer for them for not reacting faster).

I still like dream time but boy do I miss the days of my youth when I could go straight to the good stuff.

Kids Love Cheek-A-Boo

When I heard the little ones chose Green Day for top Kids Choice Awards, I thought, “Those kids have great taste.” But that taste was called into question by another favorite of theirs, Lindsay Lohan. Now comes this photo of Lohan at the awards ceremony and it sheds a bit of light on their selection: What six-year-old doesn’t like a nice piece of ass?

Let’s all call the FCC and complain about this “wardrobe malfunction.” We have to get this garbage off the airwaves- there could be children watching. Oh wait…

(This is my 100th post in “People are Idiots.” I think showcasing a major ass is apropos for the milestone).

Blog Updates

I thought some of the regular readers might want updates on past blogs…

Arrested Development: The word today is that ABC and Showtime are interested in buying the show (if Fox ever officially cancels it). There IS hope!!!

Kazakhstani journalist Borat Sagdiyev: After the country of Kaz threatened to sue Sascha Baron Cohen (Da Ali G Show), he posted the following statements on his Borat character’s website:

I like to state I have no connection with Mr. Cohen and fully support my government’s decision to sue this Jew.

Since the 2003 reforms, Kazakhstan is as civilized as any other country in the world. Women can now travel on inside of bus, homosexuals no longer have to wear blue hats and age of consent has been raised to 8 years old.

Please, captain of industry, I invite you to come to Kazakhstan, where we have incredible natural resources, hard-working labor and some of the cleanest prostitutes in all of central Asia. Goodbye.”

Kaz has retaliated by shutting down his .kz website address. I think I’m falling in love with Cohen and I want to thank the Kaz government for all the publicity that will surely make his upcoming Borat movie a huge success.

The disappearing mole: It appears to be growing back, but it’s about an inch to the left. What the hell’s going on????

Stanley “Tookie” Williams executed: Now maybe all those celebrities can use their free time to help people who haven’t murdered anybody.

I have 3 friends on MySpace: I just checked in on my MySpace page and a guy I barely know asked me to be on his friends list. The only way he could have found me was by sifting through Doug’s 6500 friends. How could I say “no” after all that trouble? Oh, and Green Day finally accepted me. I know I said I’d remove them but that’s the sort of thing one says when they think they’ve been rejected.

New musical obsession: Well, it’s a new musical interest anyway. But the fact that I haven’t heard one Green Day song in over a week should please anybody who’s concerned about me. Last week I watched Saturday Night Live for the first time in ages because a comic I know (Dane Cook) was hosting. It’s a huge accomplishment to achieve this level of success because of his standup and not because he’s a big movie or tv star. Anyway, his monologue was great but the rest of the show was horribly unfunny (the writers should be embarrassed).

I was fast forwarding through the musical guest I’d never heard of (James Blunt) and there was something about his expressions, even in high speed, that made me want to hear a few notes. I liked him instantly. He had this really interesting sound and performed the sort of ballads that make you want to write the movie scene around the song. I’ve been enjoying his album “Back to Bedlam” ever since. The way I’d been rocking out to “St. Jimmy” lately, other LA drivers should thank Mr. Blunt for my musical switch.

I discovered something interesting about him: I checked out his website to see if he was going to be performing in LA (missed him at the Wiltern in November) and in his bio I read that he was a captain in the British army and was stationed in Pristina, Kosovo at the same time I performed there (all the other bases I worked were US military but Pristina is NATO). Makes me wonder if he saw me perform and wrote the song “You’re Beautiful” for me (hee hee…and I really and truly believe Green Day are my friends).

Profanity hang ups: I was speaking with a customer service rep. the other day when she said, “You will have to keep this conversation professional or I’ll discontinue the call.”

I wasn’t yelling or anything so I had to ask, “What exactly hasn’t been professional?”

She said, “Your use of profanity.”

“You mean the word ‘jackass’?” I asked.

She told me that if I said it again she’d hang up on me. I would understand if I’d called her a jackass, but what I said was that “I look like a jackass” because of a policy of theirs that isn’t published on their website. Regardless, who considers “jackass” to be profanity anyway? All the really bad words can be identified by their first letter and I’ve never heard anybody refer to “the j word.”

I suddenly switched from jackass mode to smartass mode. “You gotta be kidding me.” She had an accent so I asked, “What country are you in that I can’t say that word?”

“I’m in Florida.” Of course. They’re ALL in Florida these days.

I responded, “If I’m not allowed to use words that the FCC has determined to be permissible on the public airwaves, how am I supposed to know what words I’m allowed to use with you? Is there a list on your website where I can find what words are and aren’t acceptable?”

She hung up.

Ninety percent of the calls I make to companies are preceded with the message, “This call may be recorded for quality control purposes.” Naturally, this wasn’t one of them. I called back hoping to get her again because this time I wanted to call HER a jackass but I got someone else. I started to explain the situation to the next rep. but she too threatened to hang up.

What can I say? People are idiots.

Bullet in a Bible Hollywood Premiere

Before I mention THEM again, let me explain my little obsession. I don’t even know if you could call it an obsession. I don’t have their t-shirts or other paraphernalia, I don’t take free stickers and posters when offered and I don’t keep the tickets from their concerts (well, not intentionally- I’ll have to check the purses I carried). It’s about the music, in particular, American Idiot. I can’t really explain it. American Idiot just grabbed me and shook me hard. “Holiday” isn’t just a song- it’s an anthem. It’s rare for any artistic endeavor to truly excite me but this did to a whole new level.

Green Day inspired me like nothing ever has before.

Seeing how much they’d grown as artists made me want to take giant leaps as an artist. Witnessing their amazing performances improved my peformances. They’re even indirectly responsible for me finally starting a blog. After reading one woman’s entertaining stories about her journey to several Green Day concerts, I decided to give it a go. I always enjoyed writing growing up, but once I became a comic, I felt this pressure for there to be a laugh every 10 seconds. But now that I’m not concerned about that and am writing just to get some thoughts out, I love writing again.

Most importantly, Green Day reignited that yearning inside me to create something great and reminded me that sometimes the biggest risks can garner the greatest rewards.

Explanation over, on to the premiere!

After two Green Day concerts in the last month, I still wanted more. I almost went to the Big Screen Concert preview for their Bullet in a Bible DVD a few weeks ago, but couldn’t bear to drive an hour to watch their concert sitting down. So I skipped it.

Then a couple days ago I read this on their website:

You are invited to join the band for the premiere of the live concert movie event of the year…Tuesday, November 15th, 7:30 p.m. Cineramadome, Hollywood. Tickets will be distributed to fans on a first come first serve basis starting at 2 p.m.

A free premiere only a couple blocks from where I live? I took the message to mean they were inviting ME personally. I’ve never understood the people who wait in line for hours to see a movie that’s going to be in theatres for the next four months, but this was a one-night-only opportunity. I had to go. I made several passes by the location in the morning and when it looked like the line was getting long, I plopped down on my cushion with my laptop and a movie to pass the two hours.

Looking at the others, it occurred to me that I was quite possibly the oldest person in line who hadn’t been dragged there by their kids. Not a great feeling. As much as this album speaks to the trials of youth, I wonder if these teenagers even understand and appreciate the message and not just the catchy tunes.

Almost an hour late, we finally got our wristbands and were told to return at 5 p.m. to receive our tickets. I’d had my fill of waiting in line for Green Day events, so I returned around 6 p.m. and, as I expected, found the long line moving nowhere. So I walked a couple blocks over to the Cat and Fiddle, where I worked years ago, chatted up some old friends and enjoyed a couple beers. It didn’t seem right to watch a Green Day concert without having at least one cocktail.

I returned to the theatre just before 7 p.m. to find the line finally moving and took my place at the very end of the wristband wearers but ahead of the couple hundred hopefuls whose best bet at hearing Green Day that night was across the street at Amoeba Music. I assumed I’d end up sitting in the very back but knew it still wouldn’t be that bad. As it turned out, the tickets had assigned seats and I was given one in the front row. Normally I’d consider it the worst location in a movie theatre, but probably not bad for a concert documentary.

I figured they’d stiff the riffraff on the usual premiere perks, but we still got our free popcorn and soda (though no free DVD as I’d hoped). I made my way into the theatre to find some kid in my seat. She and her friends asserted that the tickets were mistakenly handed out in reverse order and that the people in the front of the line were supposed to get the front row seats. I briefly tested their logic, asking how everybody was supposed to figure out what the opposite seat was. But they’re teenagers so their only argument was, “We waited in line all day! Waaah!” Frankly, the aisle seat I spotted about five rows up looked better to me anyway, so I didn’t put up a fuss, but I guess others did because I saw the kids get the boot a short time later.

I looked around at all the teenagers and felt like such a ‘tard. The upper section of the theatre was reserved for the band and invited big wigs. Part of me wanted to approach the security guards and plead, “Look, I’m old enough to buy alcohol. Can I please sit with the other grownups?” But I stayed put and endured the pack of 8-year-olds girls, one with dreadlocks, screeching, “We’re in a band! I’m the guitarist, she’s the keyboardist and she’s the dancer!” (The dancer)? The burst of excitement when Danny Bonaduce entered the theatre made me wonder if all these kids had been bussed in from the Midwest and if I should fear for my safety when Green Day finally arrived.

An hour late (which I’m getting used to), Billie Joe, Tr? and Mike entered (without incident, I might add) and made a quick appearance in front of the screen then headed to their seats with their lovely companions. When the bass player’s girlfriend looks like a supermodel, you know the band has made it. I couldn’t help but like Billie Joe’s wife as she earnestly studied her ticket to find the correct seat even though she could have sat wherever the hell she wanted. She could have told Bonaduce to get his ass out of his seat and the audience would have turned on him in an instant to support their beloved Adrienne.

Sitting only about 25 feet from the screen, I was tempted to run up to it and give big Billie Joe a kiss. Then again, I could have just as easily run 25 feet in the other direction, pushed Adrienne aside and given little Billie Joe a kiss. I might have done something that juvenile to the screen if I’d had a friend with me, but stupid stuff like that just isn’t as much fun without a buddy there to enjoy the inevitable eviction from the theatre (or possibly, to post bail). I think I’m also five years past the point where a stunt like that is cute instead of creepy. So I stayed in my seat, bouncing around but obeying the fire marshal’s order not to stand up during the show or the event would be cancelled.

The documentary, shot over two nights at England’s Milton Keynes Bowl before 65,000 people, was almost as good as being at an actual Green Day concert. The show was nearly identical to the one I saw in Albuquerque and I was quickly reminded why that was the best concert I’ve ever been to. Green Day doesn’t just perform the songs the way you hear them on CD; they’ll pause halfway through a song, do some crowd work for a few minutes to really build the anticipation, then close the song like it’s the grand finale. Their shenanigans offstage were just as entertaining as onstage.

I haven’t purchased the DVD, but I probably will so that 10 years from now, when Green Day creates another monumental album, one of my nephews will say, “I can’t believe Aunt Nene’s ever heard of Green Day, much less has their DVD.” And I’ll chuckle. And then I’ll wait in line with them for that DVD’s premiere feeling like I finally have a good excuse for being oldest in line.

While this probably won’t be my last mention of Green Day, it will probably be the last blog devoted to them since I don’t imagine I’ll be seeing them for awhile. But who knows? In the last month, I went from not expecting to see my boys at all to seeing them in a 13,000 person venue, to a 2,200 person venue to an 800 person venue. At this rate, I could be ringing in the new year in a m?nage a quatre with my favorite band.

(The first Green Day blog)

Epilogue: An hour after posting this, I went to the store and whom did I see on the cover of Rolling Stone? None other than sweet Billie Joe. I SWEAR I was just going to browse the article but I opened the magazine a couple pages and saw a picture of a comic I play poker with, so THAT’S the reason I bought the issue (well… the two combined) . Just wanted to make that clear in case anybody I know stumbles upon the magazine in my possession and seriously worries about me being obsessed.

Just “1 Friends” On MySpace

A couple weeks ago, my friend Doug invited me to join MySpace.com. Normally I’d disregard such an invitation because I got my fill of instant messages from creepy strangers in the early days of AOL. But for some reason, Doug sent my invite to an old email address I’d all but forgotten about and I happened to check it and find Doug’s invite the same day Green Day was premiering their “Jesus of Suburbia” video only on MySpace. I figured it must be some sort of sign I was supposed to be a part of the MySpace community and joined.

I thought MySpace was a place to meet and interact with new people. I quickly learned it’s some sort of sick competition to see how many friends you can accumulate on the site. Either people send you an invitation or you send invites out to others and as they accept, they are added to your list of friends. Doug has over 2700 friends. I have one. And it’s out there for the whole world to see: “Jenée has 1 friends.” Yes, it says, “1 friends,” plural, as if the creators of MySpace never considered the possibility a person would only have “1 friend” so they didn’t adapt their HTML accordingly. Under the declaration is Doug’s stupid mug looking like he’s mocking me for accepting his pointless invite in the first place.

I expected my entire MySpace experience to last until the end of the Green Day video at which time I’d never return again, then I noticed Green Day had 42,000 “friends.” I decided as a goof to ask them to be on my friends list. The idea that a grown woman would bother to invite Green Day to be her friends seemed so incredibly geeky, I had to do it. So I sent them the invite and forgot about it.

A week later, I remembered the site and decided to check in again, excited about the prospect it might have the grammatically-correct “Jenée has 2 friends” with a picture of Green Day next to Doug’s. Nope. I still had just “1 friends.” In an even geekier move, I returned to Green Day’s MySpace page and saw that the lackey in charge of maintaining the site had indeed logged on since I sent my invite. What the hell? I checked out the “preferred friends” pictures on their front page. One features a guy bent over a car getting cuffed by a cop. Another picture shows a girl sticking out her tongue with the caption “Blow me you fucks.” They made page one of the friends cut and I couldn’t even make page 400? I considered the possibility the shmuck checked out my page and decided I wasn’t worthy. Maybe it was the fact I hadn’t added a photo or that I listed my age as 100, my sexual orientation as “unsure” and my marital status as “swinger” but since options like those aren’t readily available on most questionnaires, I had to take them.

I browsed some of Green Day’s “friends’” sites to see what they’ve got that I haven’t. Apparently I’m the only one who decided to add ONE famous person/band as a joke. I noticed everybody had scores, if not hundreds, of friends- some famous, some not famous. As far as I can tell, the object of the game seems to be to try and get as many hotties as possible, or at least eight for the preferred friends list. Who are they trying to fool? After browsing the photos and reading some of their comments, it was obvious to me that many of them probably don’t have 20 people who can tolerate them in their real lives yet they’re trying to create the illusion they’re friends with a bunch of Playboy Playmates. Are that many adults really so desperate to convince others they have lots and lots of friends? In Doug’s defense, he is a comic and he was on a tv show so I’m sure most of his “friends” are fans who sent invitations to him. For people in the entertainment industry, it can be another marketing tool, but for almost everybody else, it just seems weird to call someone a friend when their only awareness of your existence is a quick click to accept your invitation.

I decided to send out a few invites to random strangers, same profile intact, to see what would happen. They all accepted. I thought about the possibilities: I could acquire thousands of friends then shove it in Doug’s face, “HA! HA! SUCKER. I WIN!!” But in the end, I decided to delete all my new “friends” from my profile, which I’ll also do if Green Day ever accepts my invite. I’d rather the world know I have one real friend than 500 make-believe ones.

Fucked up Perspective

When I decided I absolutely had to buy Green Day’s American Idiot album, I was on the road and stopped at the first store I thought might carry it: Wal-Mart. I couldn’t find it on the shelves so I asked a salesperson who told me they don’t sell albums with “explicit lyrics.” The fact that Wal-Mart sells bullets but won’t carry music with profanity is perfectly logical because we’ve all read the statistics on how many kids die each year from the word “fuck.”

It really is amazing to me that America, the land of the free, still has such screwed up priorities. Howard Stern has been practically forced off the public airwaves, while Tom Leykis gets to propagate misogynism to young impressionable men because he’s a bit more proficient with euphemisms. Connoisseurs of comedy have to pay to watch a quality sitcom like Curb Your Enthusiasm just because it contains a few naughty words while Joey rapidly contributes to the dumbing down of Americans on network television.

It’s not that I particularly like profanity. In fact, when someone uses it excessively they just sound ignorant. But even worse are the people who can never say a so-called “dirty word” or they use it in a censored fashion. Do people really think they’re somehow classier for saying, “the f word” instead of saying, “fuck?” I cringe when I see somebody write “n*gger” when what they mean is “nigger,” as if it’s the letter “i” that has oppressed black people all these years and a cute little asterisk somehow softens the word.

A woman I know told a tale about how upset her friend became when a guy called her “the c word.” Give me a break. You walk up to any woman and say, “You’re the c word” and she’ll be laughing too hard to get offended. Tell me he called her a “cunt” and maybe I’ll sympathize with her (unless, of course, she is one). Otherwise, don’t bother telling a story if you can’t tell it accurately.

I remember my sophomore English teacher telling the class, “Instead of calling somebody an ‘asshole,’ call him a ‘dolt’ or ‘dullard.’” That’s one hell of an English teacher who instructs his class to water down their statements with ineffectual words. Sadly, I think his message reflects the backward mentality of too many Americans: it’s perfectly fine to express a negative sentiment as long as you use an acceptable combination of letters.

I know I’m not saying anything new or profound here, I just really can’t comprehend the hang up people have with certain words. Let’s get the proper perspective on the problems that actually harm our society. But leave the vowels alone.

Frankly, I’m glad that I was unable to purchase American Idiot, an album that deals so much with the bullshit and hypocrisy in America, at Wal-Mart. Those sanctimonious assholes don’t deserve my 14 bucks.

Twice Green Day Blew Me…

…away. So I thought my first real post should be about something fun I’ve done and right now, it doesn’t get much better for me than seeing Green Day. Sure, over the years I enjoyed their songs about smoking pot and masturbating as much as anybody, but then I heard their current album American Idiot. It’s a brilliant rock opera with catchy tunes, and lyrics with real substance- an ambitious attempt that actually succeeds. I was blown away the first time I heard it and suddenly became a little obsessed with the band. I was totally bummed to learn they’d be playing in Los Angeles while I was working in Albuquerque… until I discovered they were performing in a much smaller amphitheatre in Albuquerque the night before my week started. WOOHOO!

Ticketless, I arrived at Journal Pavilion early to find hordes of people desperate for tickets and no sellers. I panicked for awhile then made my way to the end of the parking lot hoping to catch people just out of their cars. I finally found someone with a ticket to sell and paid way too much for a lawn ticket. But hey, I was getting in. I always seem to have a freakish effect on the weather for outdoor concerts and this was no exception. Lightning was streaking all over the place and I swear, as soon as Billie Joe sang, “Hear the sound of the falling rain,” the sprinkles turned into a torrential downpour. Everybody else scrambled for their jackets while I thoroughly enjoyed the warm soaking.

I’d watched some Green Day concert footage before, but I had no idea how fun and funny the guys would be, on top of being top notch performers. At first I was a bit disappointed they didn’t play American Idiot from front to back and only played about half the album, but I was very pleased that at the end, they’d played all but two of my old favorites- even a few that I love but weren’t big radio hits. They worked the crowd (short audio) and sprayed the audience with a firehose (slightly redundant after the rain, but still fun. Speaking of which, “Redundant” was one of my favs they didn’t play). They brought some people onstage to play as the band and liberally insulted George W. to the delight of everybody.

I hadn’t been to a concert in a while, but I was prepared with my two lighters. When they started “We are the Waiting,” I tried like a fool to start my lighters in the wind and rain before realizing everybody else was holding up their cell phones. How come I never got that memo?

After two hours, they announced the next song would be their last and I was desperately praying for it to be “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)”… instead they did their rendition of Queen’s, “We are the Champions.” It was great, but I was a little bummed. When it was over, everybody left the stage except Billie Joe and he answered my prayer. I have to admit, I got a little misty eyed.

My post-concert euphoria lasted through the week. Then I heard Green Day was putting on a “secret” show at the Wiltern in LA the following Tuesday, with tickets going on sale only on the Internet at 10 am Monday morning. As soon as I finished Sunday’s show, I hopped in my car and headed to my sister’s house near Phoenix. As 10 am approached, I was hitting the refresh buttons on three computers like a madman but instantly the tickets were all gone. I tried for half an hour like a doctor refusing to declare a guy dead even though he has no pulse and his guts are all over the table. I checked Craigslist and saw that scalpers had already posted available tickets at $250 a pop. I finally accepted the fact that instead of seeing the show in the intimate Wiltern Theatre, I would have to watch the show along with millions of others on the not-so-intimate AOL Internet telecast. Two hours later, I should have been sleeping after pulling an all-nighter, but I was still awake and decided to give Ticketmaster another try. By some miraculous luck, a couple of tickets had opened up right at that moment. I was faced with a screen telling me I had to fill in every detail of my life in two minutes or I’d lose the tickets. I was actually shaking I was so nervous! But I got through it in time and was officially going to the Wiltern.

I had planned to drive back to LA that night but my sister convinced me that with no sleep for a couple days, I should stay the night at her place. It’s a good thing she did, because the next day, my tire totally blew out in Blythe. It was very lucky it happened where it did, after two days of driving through the barren desert. I started to change the tire myself (dressed in my sarong and flip flops) when two guys stopped to help. As appreciative as I was for the assistance, they didn’t look like the kind of guys I’d want to meet in a crowded park much less standing alone on a freeway overpass with lots of cash and half my belongings in the back seat of my car. But apparently my Forencic Files debut wasn’t meant to be. Thanks to those two sweet guys for taking the time to help and for not killing me when you had the chance.

I made it to the theatre early because it was general admission seating (well, standing) and found my place at the end of the long line. After about 45 minutes of waiting, some guy passed through the line yelling, “If you have a camera phone, take it back to your car now. It will not be allowed inside.” I looked at all the people behind me and decided there was no way I was losing my spot to take my phone back. So I stuck the phone in my strapless top, figuring they probably wouldn’t search there. I got to the entrance and, luckily, the door people must have assumed the one protruding nipple was a result of the cold and not an antenna sticking through my top. Phew! Made it.

Once inside, I found a spot at the back of the second tier, an excellent location compared to being on the lawn back in New Mexico. Opening the show was The Network, a heavily-costumed new wave band. While the group has been hyped as major rivals of Green Day, rumor’s always had it that they’re actually the guys from Green Day in disguise (having seen them, I confirm it as truth). Yes, Green Day opened for Green Day. I’m not too into their music as The Network but it was fun watching the lengths they went to to try to conceal their voices and identities, realizing that it really didn’t matter since many people in the audience thought they were just another unknown opening band. In any case, it was a rare treat to see The Network perform.

FINALLY, the real Green Day hit the stage and I was thrilled to actually see their faces without the help of a big screen. Halfway through the first song, Billie Joe said he wanted more people to come down to the pit. ZOOM! I think I left a puff of smoke taking off so fast. Two seconds later I’m down in the pit 10 feet from bassist Mike Dirnt. The joy was short-lived, though, when some meathead bouncer told me I had to leave because I didn’t have a wristband. I argued with him for a second, telling him the lead singer told people to come down but he said they were clearing everybody out. He turned around and I ducked into the crowd off to the side. As soon as he was gone, I made my way to the middle of the pit, where I stayed for the rest of the show (check out my pics). Apparently, other non-wristband-wearers weren’t so deft in eluding the bouncers, because the pit was quite roomy and I was able to rock out to my heart’s content. Surprisingly, there was no “moshing” in the pit, perhaps an indicator of Green Day’s changing audience (BTW- EVERYBODY had a camera phone).

I was stoked they played the American Idiot album from beginning to end. I always thought it was a bit odd they ended the album with “Whatsername,” as it seems anticlimactic following the epic “Homecoming.” For the concert, they closed the show with “Homecoming” and then did “Whatsername” in the encore along with “Longview” and “Minority.”

The fact that I was so close to the stage hearing the tale of the Jesus of Suburbia all the way through was awesome, but at the same time, I felt like the show wasn’t as much about the live audience as it was about the Internet telecast (which I later spotted myself on- I’ll soon be adding “Green Day Concert Footage” to my resume). Drummer Tr? Cool didn’t do his goofy rendition of “All by Myself” nor did Billie Joe do his hot little self stimulation routine and he skipped his tradition of surprising a guy with a kiss. The show was about half as long and didn’t include nearly as much crowd interaction nor did it contain some of the really fun numbers they did in New Mexico (“King for a Day” and a cover of “Shout” stand out). They’re great performers and still put on a fantastic show, but I have to admit, I actually had more fun in Albuquerque. I do feel fortunate to have attended both shows, because between them, I got to hear the old and new songs and The Network and feel like I truly enjoyed the full Green Day experience.

If you haven’t seen them live- go. If you haven’t heard American Idiot- listen.

Green Day rocks.