Dress Code

Wearing Your Band Shirt

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If anyone sees me in the same t-shirt every time they run into me, you know, the one with the band logo on the front, don’t be concerned, I do keep up on the laundry and I can afford clothing. I promise you, it at least smells fresh every time I put it on. In all honesty, even though it looks like I am wearing the same damn shirt all the time, it’s just that I have an unlimited supply, I do have more than one of the same shirt. They just happen to be all from the same band. Conveniently, the band I am married to.

My last count was five: pink, white, and three blacks. I am literally a walking billboard. In my defense, they are so comfy, and I can get as many as I like (not really, like I said before, band wives still pay) but they are there, so I buy them, and wear them, everywhere.  As do the kids, and the husband. We might as well get our family pictures in them. Sometimes we will all walk out of our bedrooms and it’s a new episode of bitch stole my look.

The son and I matched at his junior high orientation. He loved that! He is always ready to support the band, not so much with matching his Mamma. I told him I wasn’t changing, though, I was too comfortable at that point and that would have taken too much energy. He wasn’t changing, either, because he wanted to wear it for his school picture, starting his junior high years off on the right foot. We walked into that high school slow-mo style, made sure we were known. Flying our colors high.

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The kid found his locker, I think surviving the high school will be a breeze for this little bad ass.

I was probably feeling a little cooler than he was, or cooler than he thought I was.

Sometimes I plan this look, if we are going somewhere new where I can spread the word, I don’t ever mind a shameless plug. Vacations are a great time to plan some band t-shirt wear, not only for the husband’s band but other locals I love. You’d be surprised at how many people have stopped me (or another fan) to comment on a band shirt. Then, once a person sees something they like, they usually will Google it. Spread their names far and wide, I say.

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Onward, children, we have a band to promote and mountains to do so!

Sometimes the band t shirt is because I am too lazy to put on anything nice, and like I said, these shirts are so comfy and I really like the fit. I make anything look good, so I can get away with wearing band shirts every day.

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They are great for just cleaning the house, having mental break downs, and self medicated-ice cream-life breaks.

I do have a rule to wearing my shirts to shows, though. I don’t wear the band shirt to local shows, unless it’s a competition type show. You see, a show is a night out for this girl, and this girl likes to look good occasionally. Cute top, cute jeans, cute boots. If the show is local enough where everyone already knows their name I don’t need to go full support. They got that covered.

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There is enough merch to promote themselves, they don’t need me to sport a shirt all the time, and seriously, a girl needs variety!

I will, however, wear the band shirt if the show is farther down the road. They are a little unheard of, or a competition type of show where your support is vital, where their name and logo are a force that needs to be reckoned with. That is when the shirt, the wrist bands, the whole uniform comes out. Because, we gotta represent.

Band shirts are not just a way to express yourself with the music you love, but also a way to support your favorites. Purchasing one also is helpful to the bands account (trust me, merch can be a bands life line sometimes). General rules of band shirts are: buy it because you love the band, wear it because you look good in it, and always express yourself with the music you love.

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It was a hot day on the deck with the fam (isn’t she a doll?), always express yourself, and keep cool!

 

And maybe pack a few the next time you go on a trip.

Pubs, Taverns, and Dives

My most memorable bar stories.

It’s no secret I am a dive connoisseur. I have been to many, many, many bars, venues, art studios, restaurants, pubs, taverns, and many, many, many others by other names but they all remain the same: dives. Though I may mock them often, I love them very much, they are my home away from home, my stomping grounds, where my heart and soul will always preside. I am always willing to sacrifice a clean bathroom to get my rock on (seriously, you should see some of these toilets they expect you to pee in). I have decided to make a compilation of the most interesting experiences I have had as a band wife, because it is always at the very least an interesting time.

 

  • The Frozen Pizza Pub: That one time when I went to order a beer at the bar and I saw the bartender pull out a frozen pizza out of the freezer and hand over to the waitress. Not even the good stuff, but the real cheap brand, they could have done better with Aldi brand (jokes aside, I love me some Aldi anything, that place is my jam). They even served it on the card board it came with, geniuses! The kicker: They were selling them for seven bucks a pop! Now you and I both know they went to Kroger and stocked up on a ten for ten deal!
  • The Hipster Paradise: There is really nothing I enjoy loathing more than a damn hipster, so when we walked into a venue that had an all vegan menu, smelled of essential oils, and served their beer in mason jars I was in gripe heaven! Seriously, mason jars are so hard to manage, they are too big to hold while you are rocking, unless you got some big old meat mitts, and then as you hit your third, fourth, or fifth it gets real tricky. They are just not practical for beers.
  • The coffee Shop Amateurs: Once The Husband played at an acoustic night at an art studio that supposedly seconded as a coffee shop, they had some very interesting art but their coffee was more interesting, a small, un-busy night I asked ordered a coffee which the guy behind the makeshift counter used the Sunbeam twelve cup coffee pot that was teetering on the side of the counter to brew a pot of the most generic cuppa I have ever tasted. This did not bother me that much because I am not a coffee snob, give me whatever you got, as long as it’s dark and strong. I take it like a pill, its only purpose is to give me life, I am not concerned with the quality. What bothered me was that it took him forty-five minutes to brew a pot of coffee, in a coffee shop…. Dude, you have one job.
  • The Anti-Social Bar: The Husband was playing at a venue that did not have food, and we were starving, so he sent me to the next-door hole in the wall to get some food. This was possibly the smallest, darkest hole in the wall I’ve been to. The door was an actual hole in the wall, I felt like I stepped back into 1978 and there were only three lonely old men sitting on either corner of the bar, and two old ladies running the joint that were not too pleased to see they had customers. Their menu consisted of hot dogs and your basic fried bar foods. A few of their unusual items were cheese and crackers or sardines and crackers, which I know for a fact The Husband loves sardines so I was planning on getting him a side of that but when we got up to order the little ol’ bitty bypassed me. Once I piped up, after she fried up the others’ orders, I ordered a pizza, she huffed loudly and said in a tone only an eighty-year-old woman who’s worked behind a bar for way too long could get away with using, said, “You know that is going to take me twenty minutes?” at that point I knew I pissed her off and was scarred, so I nervously mumbled something like: “Uh… I guess I can get a basket of chicken strips” Then she hobbled over to the fryer whilst lecturing me on how she could have made the strips with everyone else’s. I was so afraid of the lady that I bypassed the canned fish all together, grabbed my food, and booked it outta there. Nothing is scarier than an eighty-year-old bar tender. You know that woman has seen some shit
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None of these pictures are of bars I have been to. I would never disclose the names and locations of these stories because I love my bars. 
  • Ok, so maybe I only have a top four memorable bar moments. I had more but they were all slightly too offensive, even for this blog. So enjoy my stories and maybe if I can think of more I will post a second half to this, or maybe I will forget again, because I am pretty sure most of my brain is made up of mashed potatoes (mmm.. potatoes) at this point in the game.

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