Mommyblogging The Ben Folds And Cake Show, By Me, A Mommyblogger!

I knew I was 46 years old when on the way down to the Cake show, we heard that song "Signs," and for the first time in my life, I thought, "maybe he put up a fence to keep you out and to keep Mother Nature in because a bunch of GODDAMN HIPPIES KEPT COMING IN AND TRASHING THE PLACE" and also, "WAIT, THIS WHOLE SONG IS BECAUSE HE HAS TO WEAR A SHIRT???? FUCKING 1960S MILLENNIALS!"

Sorry, Millennials, that might be the unfairest I have ever been to you, who would literally not be born for another decade-plus, and I'm a real dick to you guys sometimes!

Signs - The Five Man Electrical Band

All our in-person friends except Whitefish Renee are 70 years old, like our neighbors Tika and Cliff. It's a very friendly neighborhood, all the active seniors walking around and greeting one another, and a yearish after we bought our house, we finally had them over for a drink. "We noticed your RV was gone," they said brightly, making nice-people conversation. "Where did you travel?" I looked at them, calculating, this nice blonde lady and her Hulk Hogan-looking but not gross Vietnam vet husband. "We went to Washington DC for the Women's March to protest Donald Trump," I said evenly -- we live in Montana, and every Montanan I meet is going to LEARN ABOUT ME THE HARD WAY.

"FUCK YEAAAAAHHHHH!" they both yelled, and we have been dear friends since. So Donna Rose went to spend the evening baking actual motherfucking cookies with Tika in matching aprons, and we went to the show and apparently bitched about hippies. At this place! Under a fat orange half moon that hung just above the crest behind us for hours. Whaaaat?

Kettlehouse Amphitheater. Whaaaaaat!Kettlehouse website

Even their portapotties were fantastic: enough for everyone in the 4000-capacity crowd without a wait or getting disgusting. Unpossible.


I thought we were going to see Cake and would suffer through the soft Ben Folds; instead, he was delightful. He played a song about young dumb and full of cum Levi Johnston that actually had us wistful for that poor summer child. (And wondering where the fuck Bristol and her mother have slunk off to; we have theories, but they are actionable, so they will remain in my brain case and you will have to wonder. Whatever you're thinking, it's that.) First Folds gave the Cliff's Notes of how the song came about: direct quotes about killing moose and kicking ass from Johnston's Myspace page, which the RNC and John McCain scrubbed but VITE.

Ben Folds & Nick Hornby - Levi Johnston's

At least those children never got married.

Ben Folds also played this, which was delightful.

Ben Folds - Moscow Mitch- LIVE on NYC Rooftop

Then, despite Greg Behrendt's demands of nearly two decades' standing that adult rock shows start by 7, the band play one hour, no encore, over by 8, with valet parking, it was 10:30 PM OF THE NIGHT TIME ON A THURSDAY by the time Cake came on. They played Sheep Go To Heaven and three newish songs, and the youngs all around me knew many of the words and I realized that if I was 21 when Fashion Nugget came out, they were 11 and ready to keep listening to more new albums after that, like a bunch of fucking youngs who keep listening to new music.

Three newish songs later, it was 11, with a 90-minute ride home to pick up our becookied daughter, and singer John McCrea was talking about the moon (it was a hella fucking moon) and a potted tree they had onstage, so it was time for a 20-minute walk back to the car and MCCREA NEVER STOPPED TALKING THE ENTIRE TIME. TWENTY MINUTES. OF TALKING. IN A ROCK SHOW. AT ELEVEN PM ON A THURSDAY. THIS. IS. MADNESSSSSSSS. If we had still been sitting there, we'd be dead right now. OF MURDER SUICIDE.

We were so tired coming home we almost crashed and died 19 times even with bottled frappumocha thingies, but we did not die OR suicide us and Donna had a wonderful time with Tika and oh shit happy fifth anniversary of our 24-day-long first date, Shy, we forgot!

This has been a mommyblog of #DateNight and #Cake and #LeviJohnston and apparently my #anniversaryIjustremembered.

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Rebecca Schoenkopf

Rebecca Schoenkopf is the owner, publisher, and editrix of Wonkette. She is a nice lady, SHUT UP YUH HUH. She is very tired with this fucking nonsense all of the time, and it would be terrific if you sent money to keep this bitch afloat. She is on maternity leave until 2033.


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