The pit won this round and my dress is losing the rematch. Tell me I can still fix this before the encore.
The pit won this round and my dress is losing the rematch. Tell me I can still fix this before the encore.
Boy Harsher at the Palladium tonight, so everything I own is black and nothing is decided yet — eyeliner halfway done, mesh top doing the absolute minimum. Come stand in the dark with me?
Playoffs mean my old Dodger jersey gets the scissors treatment, and I've already gone shorter than I planned. Tell me where to stop.
Hunting for something to wear to the Wallflowers at the Orpheum and my old 90s band tee fell out of the closet instead — it still fits, mostly. Settle this for me before I leave: pants or no pants?
Ella Langley at the Greek tonight means new boots, obviously — I've been tearing through vintage shops since they opened their doors. Found a pair that might be the whole outfit. Be honest, do I need them?
Jack Johnson at the Bowl tonight, so I got my salt fix early — spent the morning diving and now this wetsuit refuses to come off the rest of the way. Tell me you'd help me rinse off too?
The surf tour coming to the Bowl has me pulling my old wetsuit out of the garage, and the stubborn thing is winning the fight off. Come help me with the zipper?
Empire of the Sun at the Bowl tonight and sleep never stood a chance — I'm in the kitchen raiding the leftovers in whatever I fell asleep in. Tell me you're awake too.
Sierra Ferrell had me two-stepping in the aisles before Mumford even took the stage, then three hours of stomping finished the job. Voice is gone, boots stayed on, everything else didn't. Think you could keep up for an encore?
Hayley Williams at the Bowl and the outfit won the argument, so here I am with nowhere to be for a while. I don't do waiting quietly. Tell me who's taking who home?