the post in which I give y’all lame excuses

So, turns out I suck at this “blogging on the regular” thing.  I mean, two posts in July?  Inexcusable, unless you’re suffering from some sort of finger gangrene.  I really do apologize for being MIA (the acronym, not the chanteuse) the past couple of months.  Here comes the part where I tell you what I’ve been up to and beg for your forgiveness, undying adoration, and any spare change you might have laying around (I don’t do pennies).

Summer of 2010 was also known as “The Summer Where Allison and Brittany Get To Work Every Weekend Ever in Life”.  And, really?  That kinda blew.  Chalk it up to stat holidays, regularly scheduled weekends and “rotational difficulties” and here we are, working half the weekends of the summer.  I’mma not bitch about it anymore because it’s over.  I can now go back to working 1 weekend in 5, while my husband starts working 3 weekends in 4.  WHAT IS WRONG WITH OUR RESPECTIVE CAREERS?!

We took advantage of one of the free weekends of our summer by taking in a Jays game at the Rogers Centre in Toronto.  My sis had a brilliant idea to buy tickets for my dad for Father’s Day (with us being his dates, of course), so we took Josh and our uncle, as well.  My mom made a heroic move and kept Hayden all day for us (and with a toddler, 10 hours feels more like INFINITY-AND-A-HALF HOURS), so mad props go out to Mo.  Hayden was happier than a pig in excrement having Nanny to himself all day.  Anywho, Dad had never been on the GO train before, so we parked the car in Oshawa and took the train to Union Station.  It’s really the only way to travel, especially when you sit next to 3 drunk-ass bitches who are - SURPRISE, SURPRISE - on their way to BeerFest.  The stories they were telling about stealing cigarettes from their mother’s purse were absolutely HEARTWARMING.  However, if I heard “Yeah, I know, right?!” one more time, Rick James might have had to choke a bitch. 

So, the game?  RI-DIC-U-LOUS.  To anyone who actually FOLLOWS the Jays, this was the August 7th game versus Tampa Bay.  EIGHT home runs, two by a dude in his first major league game.  On his FIRST MUTHA-FUCKIN’ PITCH.  I mean, I don’t really follow baseball, per se, but was I ever acting a fool in those bleachers.  It was probably the $10 beer I indulged in.  But FUN!  Britt and I got a huge kick out of each player having an “entrance song” as they came up to bat, reminiscent of WWF characters back in the day.   (She then went home and acquired the songs and made me a CD entitled “Jays Mix” for my car.  We are just THAT COOL.  We’re also taking appointments for hangouts.) 

Anyway, the game ended in a 17-11 victory for our Jays, Britt developed a thing for Bautista, and I got a ginormous Cinnabon at Union Station before we headed home.   BEST AND MOST FATTENING FATHER’S DAY EVER.

If you’re friends with me on Facebook (and why WOULDN’T you be), you will also be painfully aware of the fact that I got to attend an Aerosmith concert a few weeks ago.  FINALLY.  This particular concert WAS NOT CANCELLED.  I wasn’t even “excited” until just a few hours before the concert, as both Britt and I were convinced that SOMETHING was going to happen.  Will the band’s flight will be delayed?  Probably.  Will our e-tickets be fraudulent? Of COURSE they will be.  Will Steven Tyler break his leg climbing out of his hydrotherapy tub?  It’s an ALL-TOO-DISTINCT POSSIBILITY.  BUT!  Concert time came, we went to the A.C.C. and got into our seats.  OMG, this shit is actually happening!

And then.

Sammy Hagar took the stage.

Shoot me directly in the face and please pierce my eardrums in the process.  Anticipating the band I actually WANTED to see was bad enough, but having to watch Sammy Hagar dance (and I use the term loosely) around in his clam-diggers for an hour beforehand?  That’s just ignorant. 

SO!  We end up having pretty decent seats for $106.  We’re at the side of the arena and up in the 300 level.  I don’t even care at this point…I’m finally getting to see Aerosmith IN PERSON.  With a possible rendezvous at the Fairmont Royal York afterwards!  The roadies mopping up Sammy’s sweat trail and getting the band’s equipment ready and I’m getting pretty fricking stoked.

AND THEN?!

Britt shouts “Omigod!  LOOK!!”, and I look down at the stage (which is cloaked from the front, so the crowd can’t see) and see MEMAW TYLER bustin’ some mean dance moves in preparation for the show!  Internet, my Grade 8 self was IN HYSTERICS.  I could have left right there - that’s all I needed to see.  But we stayed.  And WHAT A SHOW.  It’s indescribable, really.  I shouted so loud during a couple of “quiet times” that my cousin who happened to be at the concert, but in another section, could hear me.  It was my “Night Of No Shame”.  And I kept my bra on the WHOLE DAMN TIME. 

I had the time of my life, and I’m really, really glad my sister could share in my ridiculousness.

And if you’ve heard in the news lately, the band is having some major tension issues and are probably going to break up.  How’s THAT for timing, bitches?!

So.  How has YOUR summer been?

xoxo