It looks like I’m up for the World’s Shittiest Friend award, and I’m afraid to say that I’ve rightfully earned it. So here is my apology to everyone that I may have slighted in the last two or three weeks- Really, I never meant to be so selfish.
I guess it all started when I came down with that nasty sinus infection that kept me home from work and thoroughly under the weather for the last 14 days. Well, in hindsight I guess I was just bitching out. I mean, waking up on and off every night because you’re choking on a post-nasal drip isn’t that bad after all. I could have taken my four or five broken hours of sleep and pumped myself full of Starbucks and ibuprophen at work like a champ. Real people don’t need sleep.
Aside from being sick, which now I look back and realize maybe it was just a slight headache, I had been working nearly 50 hours a week for the last 2 or 3 weeks. We’re in the midst of football season at UCF, which means that nearly every Saturday I now get to stand in the afternoon heat with a smile on my face and deal with drunken people yelling at me over their choice of free gifts, since the company I work for is a sponsor for the school’s athletic programs. I also had a deadline for Drink Magazine. But with all of the expenses that I have coming up- gas and food money for an upcoming trip to Gainesville, roller derby gear, and a few epic concerts- I shouldn’t be working 7 days a week to make up the difference in my bank account. No- I should just ask my dad for a handout.
And for roller derby- I really shouldn’t be exerting what’s left of my energy supply on that! Physical fitness and accomplishing something that I’ve always wanted to do really shouldn’t be a top priority. If I want cardio training, I can just go find a dance floor. Dropping it like it’s hot counts as squats, right? Psh. Who needs 4-5 hours a week of intense boot camp-style exercise and skating, followed by another 2-3 hours of practicing on your own because you want to pass a skills test in 2 months?
But the real indiscretion was this last weekend. I should have gone out dancing not only on Friday night, but Saturday night as well, and stay out until the houselights came on. The last place I should have been was thoroughly buzzed on wine, a great meal, and stimulating conversation at my home. No- I should have been behind the wheel of a car getting myself to a club at midnight after being told that it was OK that I stayed in. Silly Heather. Silly, silly Heather.
Next time I won’t be so selfish. I’ll paint on a happy face, I’ll be there to prevent the fights that almost happen between my friends and complete strangers, and more importantly, I’ll read in between the lines of those text messages. How stupid of me to ever take things for face value in this world.
I’ll be a better friend the next time, I swear.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Coworker Etiquette
I was looking forward to going to bed early tonight. After all, I’ve been battling a sinus infection for just shy of a week, and as I’m feeling better during the day my nights have fallen prey to the incessant coughing as my lungs try to rid themselves of every last glob of mucus. Tasty, I know. However, I can’t go to bed without ridding this from my chest as well.
There is etiquette to working with others. As I’m feeling the weight of constantly being critiqued, I would think that those who are doing the judging would know this and just leave me be. It leaves me to wonder if anyone ever truly feels that they belong to an organization where they work. I know that I’m the youngest in my office. As a matter of fact, pretty much everyone that I work with is old enough to either be my parent or grandparent. Maybe 2 or 3 people in the entire building that I work in could be considered siblings, and I was the child that mom decided to pop out as a last hurrah before menopause. Still, I don’t need to be babysat and I feel that is exactly what is happening. Every time someone walks past my cubical, I feel like someone is peering over my shoulder. What is she working on? What’s on her computer screen? Why is she not taking a note down or moving her mouse? Why does she have her iPod out? What is she doing holding her cell phone?
And I know that they are tattling to my boss. A few weeks ago, I had to work an outdoor sporting event since the company I work for was a sponsor. It was approved by my boss that we could wear what we were wearing to the game to the office, since we had to be there right after office hours. While he was out at some of the stores in which we manage the marketing for, my coworkers from other departments felt the need to remind me that I was wearing shorts. Gosh- I was unaware that it was nontraditional to wear shorts in a professional setting. The last 2 years that I’ve worked there, I always just felt like wearing dress pants and heels. And it wasn’t even the snide remarks about how short they were or why I was wearing them (“Aren’t you cold?” “Are you a cheerleader today for the game?” “Your manager approved those? Sure he did.”) What bothered me the most was that people actually thought that I didn’t know any better.
Sure, perhaps the shorts were a little on the short side to be wearing to work. On the other hand, I’ve worn them to all other times I’ve worked at one of the sporting events- my manager has seen them. And not to play the ‘You’re Just Jealous’ card, but I will say that the only ones complaining to my boss and HR were of the 40 Plus variety. Yes, they did send numerous emails to my boss asking if he had seen what I was wearing. We laughed later on about how everyone had nothing better to do than gossip about what I was wearing.
By the end of that day, I was at my wits end and starting to get snippy with anyone who dared made eye contact with my choice in clothing. It wasn’t until today, though, that I finally lost my temper. I’ve been volunteering to help out with inventory in the stores that I help manage the marketing efforts for. It’s all automotive, so it involves me being at the dealership-level and working with people that I usually have no face time with whatsoever. It doesn’t bother me that they don’t know who I am or what my role is. It does bother me that when they find out which department I work in, all they can do is point out the negatives. “Who wrote that God-awful song that plays while people are on-hold?” “Ugh, can you guys stop running that one commercial when so-and-so does this-and-that? It’s terrible!” “Why aren’t we advertising on this station? You know, the demographic I think would better suit who we’re trying to sell to.” Marketing is subjective. Everyone is an expert in it.
Most of the time I just smile, nod, sit back and think to myself that some people just have no tact. “Hi, what’s your name? Oh, you work in marketing? You’re ideas suck! It must really blow to be you!”
I don’t meet these people and say, “God, your sales numbers were really low this month! Why can’t you guys sell more? It can’t possibly be that hard- I mean, even I could do it!” All the while I just sit there and take their expert opinions, and all I can do in the end is try to explain to them that a lot of what they are complaining about is either preaching to the choir or that they are preaching to the wrong person. I don’t call the shots on anything- the owner of the company does. I’d personally love to see them tell all of this to the man who signs their paychecks.
Maybe it was the sinus infection wearing my mental capabilities thin, or maybe it was that I’m a day or two from menstruation, but in an obnoxiously sarcastic voice I said, “You know, it really feels great to come from the office and be told that I fucking suck at my job!”
Loudly.
Perhaps too loudly.
And people stared and jaws hung and they stammered, “Well, no, that’s not what I meant…” I think I nearly gave one of the older women a heart attack. For a split second I felt a wave not of relief but of embarrassment. I entertained the thought of apologizing. I knew that this was going to make great fodder for the gossip already going around about me. Perhaps it would get to my boss and I’d have a stern talking to about being professional amongst others and setting a good example. The truth hurts, and it cuts the person hearing it just as much as the person calling it out. Now as I look back, I feel that it came out because it was supposed to.
Maybe that’s what we all needed to hear.
There is etiquette to working with others. As I’m feeling the weight of constantly being critiqued, I would think that those who are doing the judging would know this and just leave me be. It leaves me to wonder if anyone ever truly feels that they belong to an organization where they work. I know that I’m the youngest in my office. As a matter of fact, pretty much everyone that I work with is old enough to either be my parent or grandparent. Maybe 2 or 3 people in the entire building that I work in could be considered siblings, and I was the child that mom decided to pop out as a last hurrah before menopause. Still, I don’t need to be babysat and I feel that is exactly what is happening. Every time someone walks past my cubical, I feel like someone is peering over my shoulder. What is she working on? What’s on her computer screen? Why is she not taking a note down or moving her mouse? Why does she have her iPod out? What is she doing holding her cell phone?
And I know that they are tattling to my boss. A few weeks ago, I had to work an outdoor sporting event since the company I work for was a sponsor. It was approved by my boss that we could wear what we were wearing to the game to the office, since we had to be there right after office hours. While he was out at some of the stores in which we manage the marketing for, my coworkers from other departments felt the need to remind me that I was wearing shorts. Gosh- I was unaware that it was nontraditional to wear shorts in a professional setting. The last 2 years that I’ve worked there, I always just felt like wearing dress pants and heels. And it wasn’t even the snide remarks about how short they were or why I was wearing them (“Aren’t you cold?” “Are you a cheerleader today for the game?” “Your manager approved those? Sure he did.”) What bothered me the most was that people actually thought that I didn’t know any better.
Sure, perhaps the shorts were a little on the short side to be wearing to work. On the other hand, I’ve worn them to all other times I’ve worked at one of the sporting events- my manager has seen them. And not to play the ‘You’re Just Jealous’ card, but I will say that the only ones complaining to my boss and HR were of the 40 Plus variety. Yes, they did send numerous emails to my boss asking if he had seen what I was wearing. We laughed later on about how everyone had nothing better to do than gossip about what I was wearing.
By the end of that day, I was at my wits end and starting to get snippy with anyone who dared made eye contact with my choice in clothing. It wasn’t until today, though, that I finally lost my temper. I’ve been volunteering to help out with inventory in the stores that I help manage the marketing efforts for. It’s all automotive, so it involves me being at the dealership-level and working with people that I usually have no face time with whatsoever. It doesn’t bother me that they don’t know who I am or what my role is. It does bother me that when they find out which department I work in, all they can do is point out the negatives. “Who wrote that God-awful song that plays while people are on-hold?” “Ugh, can you guys stop running that one commercial when so-and-so does this-and-that? It’s terrible!” “Why aren’t we advertising on this station? You know, the demographic I think would better suit who we’re trying to sell to.” Marketing is subjective. Everyone is an expert in it.
Most of the time I just smile, nod, sit back and think to myself that some people just have no tact. “Hi, what’s your name? Oh, you work in marketing? You’re ideas suck! It must really blow to be you!”
I don’t meet these people and say, “God, your sales numbers were really low this month! Why can’t you guys sell more? It can’t possibly be that hard- I mean, even I could do it!” All the while I just sit there and take their expert opinions, and all I can do in the end is try to explain to them that a lot of what they are complaining about is either preaching to the choir or that they are preaching to the wrong person. I don’t call the shots on anything- the owner of the company does. I’d personally love to see them tell all of this to the man who signs their paychecks.
Maybe it was the sinus infection wearing my mental capabilities thin, or maybe it was that I’m a day or two from menstruation, but in an obnoxiously sarcastic voice I said, “You know, it really feels great to come from the office and be told that I fucking suck at my job!”
Loudly.
Perhaps too loudly.
And people stared and jaws hung and they stammered, “Well, no, that’s not what I meant…” I think I nearly gave one of the older women a heart attack. For a split second I felt a wave not of relief but of embarrassment. I entertained the thought of apologizing. I knew that this was going to make great fodder for the gossip already going around about me. Perhaps it would get to my boss and I’d have a stern talking to about being professional amongst others and setting a good example. The truth hurts, and it cuts the person hearing it just as much as the person calling it out. Now as I look back, I feel that it came out because it was supposed to.
Maybe that’s what we all needed to hear.
Monday, October 18, 2010
How awesome is your best friend Savannah?
My best friend Savannah is AMAZING! So amazing that it took me 10 months to log back in to Formspring and answer this question...
Monday, October 11, 2010
Bucket (List) of Blood
Ah, October is upon us! And how to start everyone's favorite month to dress up as a slut or act like a pervert than with some monsters and mayhem! Last Saturday (see the prior post) turned out to be quite the spontaneous adventure…
I had the opportunity to catch Gwar performing at Club Firestone- a place I usually avoid at all costs unless it's a band that I like playing (usually 3 times a year). Since I am a huge fan of any hard rock genre, Gwar is a band that I've known for years even though I've never really listened to their stuff. They just happen to be one of those bands that makes your bucket list- their shows are legendary, and even if they don't ever make it to your iPod they are still a band you know you have to see at some point in your life. I made arrangements with a friend that was offering some free tickets, grabbed an old white t-shirt, and met up with my photographer friend Megan Schutz. She was all kinds of excited when she heard what we were doing before catching Night of the Living Dead at the Enzian Theater later.
Within the first 3 minutes of the band taking the stage, I was frozen in place with my ja
w agape and my eyelids glued to my forehead. I couldn’t turn away! The split second that I did, a man either was decapitated by someone else or at his own expense, and by the time I looked back to the stage he was already spurting blood from his carotid artery onto the masses. Damn it. After I told Megan a few times that I couldn’t tell if I was genuinely scared (I wasn’t sober at the time) or if I was entertained, I grabbed her hand and we meandered around the side of the crowd and snuck into the front. There we were sprayed by the headless man, followed by something that looked like a mutant pig fetus.
I'm a firm believer in freedom of speech, so even when Oderus Urungus was proclaiming that an on-stage Sarah Palin shouldn't be in politics, but rather his own personal fucktoy, I couldn't really be offended. I knew what I was getting myself into when I went to this show; it would be as ludicrous to be upset over seeing Marilyn Manson tear a Bible up on stage- you know it's bound to happen! Even though I'm a firm believer in gender equality and I'm not a fan of Palin whatsoever, I kept my cheers (and jeers) to myself and watched in stunned amusement. This is why you go to this show to begin with, right? He then went on to chainsaw her in half, rip her severed hips and legs away from her spinal column, and she gushed blood all over the delighted audience.
Fortunately, I don't think that the people at a Gwar show are taking themselves too seriously. Most people who are watching a bunch of men pushing 50 wearing ripped fishnet stockings and spraying an overzealous crowd with faux bodily fluids aren't- if they were, they'd be running for the nearest free clinic. And if there are still people that are going to these shows and taking music-or anything- in its literal sense, then they are more impressionable than originally thought, and should be avoided at all costs. That’s how we could have avoided such events in history like Jonestown, duh.
Sadly, we had to leave about 30 minutes into the show to make it to the Enzian in time. This was the aftermath.
It ended up not being Night of the Living Dead that stuck with me the longest. The ride to work was nearly as entertaining as the concert. I thought maybe it would have been funnier to see a Kardashian ripped apart since a few years ago they killed off Paris Hilton, and then I started to think of all of the other catchy celebs that Gwar could mutilate on stage... That chick that can’t act from Twilight? Ke$ha? The entire cast of Jersey Shore? And then I found myself at work muttering to myself every time I hit the Send button on another email, "Now there's someone I would have liked to see get chainsawed in half on stage." Even better was when something went awry in the office and my initial solution to the problem was to rip someone’s head off and spray blood everywhere.
Run.
I had the opportunity to catch Gwar performing at Club Firestone- a place I usually avoid at all costs unless it's a band that I like playing (usually 3 times a year). Since I am a huge fan of any hard rock genre, Gwar is a band that I've known for years even though I've never really listened to their stuff. They just happen to be one of those bands that makes your bucket list- their shows are legendary, and even if they don't ever make it to your iPod they are still a band you know you have to see at some point in your life. I made arrangements with a friend that was offering some free tickets, grabbed an old white t-shirt, and met up with my photographer friend Megan Schutz. She was all kinds of excited when she heard what we were doing before catching Night of the Living Dead at the Enzian Theater later.
Within the first 3 minutes of the band taking the stage, I was frozen in place with my ja
w agape and my eyelids glued to my forehead. I couldn’t turn away! The split second that I did, a man either was decapitated by someone else or at his own expense, and by the time I looked back to the stage he was already spurting blood from his carotid artery onto the masses. Damn it. After I told Megan a few times that I couldn’t tell if I was genuinely scared (I wasn’t sober at the time) or if I was entertained, I grabbed her hand and we meandered around the side of the crowd and snuck into the front. There we were sprayed by the headless man, followed by something that looked like a mutant pig fetus.I'm a firm believer in freedom of speech, so even when Oderus Urungus was proclaiming that an on-stage Sarah Palin shouldn't be in politics, but rather his own personal fucktoy, I couldn't really be offended. I knew what I was getting myself into when I went to this show; it would be as ludicrous to be upset over seeing Marilyn Manson tear a Bible up on stage- you know it's bound to happen! Even though I'm a firm believer in gender equality and I'm not a fan of Palin whatsoever, I kept my cheers (and jeers) to myself and watched in stunned amusement. This is why you go to this show to begin with, right? He then went on to chainsaw her in half, rip her severed hips and legs away from her spinal column, and she gushed blood all over the delighted audience.
Fortunately, I don't think that the people at a Gwar show are taking themselves too seriously. Most people who are watching a bunch of men pushing 50 wearing ripped fishnet stockings and spraying an overzealous crowd with faux bodily fluids aren't- if they were, they'd be running for the nearest free clinic. And if there are still people that are going to these shows and taking music-or anything- in its literal sense, then they are more impressionable than originally thought, and should be avoided at all costs. That’s how we could have avoided such events in history like Jonestown, duh.
Sadly, we had to leave about 30 minutes into the show to make it to the Enzian in time. This was the aftermath.
It ended up not being Night of the Living Dead that stuck with me the longest. The ride to work was nearly as entertaining as the concert. I thought maybe it would have been funnier to see a Kardashian ripped apart since a few years ago they killed off Paris Hilton, and then I started to think of all of the other catchy celebs that Gwar could mutilate on stage... That chick that can’t act from Twilight? Ke$ha? The entire cast of Jersey Shore? And then I found myself at work muttering to myself every time I hit the Send button on another email, "Now there's someone I would have liked to see get chainsawed in half on stage." Even better was when something went awry in the office and my initial solution to the problem was to rip someone’s head off and spray blood everywhere.
Run.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
They're Coming to Get You, Heather!!
Its that’s special time of the year here in central Florida: that time where nature can’t decide to take the plunge from sweltering hot to what us Floridians call ‘freezing’. Mother Nature is a child teetering on the edge of a pool, dipping their toe into the water before building up the courage to commit. Someone needs to walk by and push this bitch in.
Right now it’s a comfortable upper-sixties-something, and I have the A/C off and the windows open. Soon it will be back to the lower 80’s this afternoon, and my friends will start seeing who wants to carpool to the beach. 80-degree weather and pumpkin-flavored everything? Gotta love Florida in October! However, I should have gone home to New Smyrna Beach to take advantage of this last weekend I’ve got free of any predetermined plans but I’ve been running back there nearly every weekend for the last 5 or 6 weeks. I can’t remember the last time I went to Backbooth for Midnight Mass. The last time I went to Independent Bar with the usual group was probably around the last time I actually folded the laundry after getting it out of the dryer…
Either way, the fact that it is already well into October has me slightly freaked out. Everything has been going by so fast, as it does when you’re completely swamped with work and plans. No complaints here: it’s been a journey nothing short of amazing and I can’t get over all that I’m accomplishing here in the last 2 or so months. I recently started writing for Drink Magazine, published by Orlando Weekly (2nd biggest newspaper here in central Florida). I’m really excited about it as a side gig, and I’ve been in the September issue for covering a few great drinks at a few great bars as well as the one for October. It’s on newsstands now, so go pick up a copy and see what my friends and I think the most overplayed Halloween costumes are before you make a costume faux pas, because NO ONE wants to do that on Halloween… But really, I hope you read and have a chuckle. All of my friends have asked how I got involved with it. I just tell them that I went to enough of the monthly launch parties hosted by Drink, and found myself telling editor Meghan that I really, really, really, really wanted to be involved. After 3 or 6 free cocktails, you can find yourself confessing any desire to anyone, as we all know.
I’m also writing for NotNorthNews.org, a site that focuses on the Florida music scene. I’m stoked about this one because, like hitting up bars around Orlando, this gig fits my lifestyle perfectly. I have a ton of things that I need to be writing for the site. I’ve done 2 short pieces so far, and I have an album review, a few interviews, and maybe an editorial on the way. Halloween weekend I’ll be up in Gainesville for The Fest 9 covering it as press, if you will, and though I’ve never been I can safely chalk it up to nonstop PBR-fueled punk rock mayhem running amok in the streets of the city.
I. Can’t. Wait.
So besides being a total workaholic and having too much housework to catch up on, I’ve found another reason to keep me in Orlando this weekend- The Enzian Theater in Winter Park is showing a midnight double-feature of King of the Zombies, followed by my favorite horror flick ever Night of the Living Dead. Both are being shown in 16mm film. What a rad way to kick off the Halloween season! Some friends are all going to be at Spooky Empire with its celebs and whatnot, but I figure by the time I’m doing all that needs getting done around here it will be midnight and thus perfect timing to catch George Romero’s debut. A little pumpkin pie gelati from Jeremiah’s right down the street, a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks, or a pumpkin beer would make this night nearly perfect.
Decisions, decisions!
Right now it’s a comfortable upper-sixties-something, and I have the A/C off and the windows open. Soon it will be back to the lower 80’s this afternoon, and my friends will start seeing who wants to carpool to the beach. 80-degree weather and pumpkin-flavored everything? Gotta love Florida in October! However, I should have gone home to New Smyrna Beach to take advantage of this last weekend I’ve got free of any predetermined plans but I’ve been running back there nearly every weekend for the last 5 or 6 weeks. I can’t remember the last time I went to Backbooth for Midnight Mass. The last time I went to Independent Bar with the usual group was probably around the last time I actually folded the laundry after getting it out of the dryer…
Either way, the fact that it is already well into October has me slightly freaked out. Everything has been going by so fast, as it does when you’re completely swamped with work and plans. No complaints here: it’s been a journey nothing short of amazing and I can’t get over all that I’m accomplishing here in the last 2 or so months. I recently started writing for Drink Magazine, published by Orlando Weekly (2nd biggest newspaper here in central Florida). I’m really excited about it as a side gig, and I’ve been in the September issue for covering a few great drinks at a few great bars as well as the one for October. It’s on newsstands now, so go pick up a copy and see what my friends and I think the most overplayed Halloween costumes are before you make a costume faux pas, because NO ONE wants to do that on Halloween… But really, I hope you read and have a chuckle. All of my friends have asked how I got involved with it. I just tell them that I went to enough of the monthly launch parties hosted by Drink, and found myself telling editor Meghan that I really, really, really, really wanted to be involved. After 3 or 6 free cocktails, you can find yourself confessing any desire to anyone, as we all know.
I’m also writing for NotNorthNews.org, a site that focuses on the Florida music scene. I’m stoked about this one because, like hitting up bars around Orlando, this gig fits my lifestyle perfectly. I have a ton of things that I need to be writing for the site. I’ve done 2 short pieces so far, and I have an album review, a few interviews, and maybe an editorial on the way. Halloween weekend I’ll be up in Gainesville for The Fest 9 covering it as press, if you will, and though I’ve never been I can safely chalk it up to nonstop PBR-fueled punk rock mayhem running amok in the streets of the city.
I. Can’t. Wait.
So besides being a total workaholic and having too much housework to catch up on, I’ve found another reason to keep me in Orlando this weekend- The Enzian Theater in Winter Park is showing a midnight double-feature of King of the Zombies, followed by my favorite horror flick ever Night of the Living Dead. Both are being shown in 16mm film. What a rad way to kick off the Halloween season! Some friends are all going to be at Spooky Empire with its celebs and whatnot, but I figure by the time I’m doing all that needs getting done around here it will be midnight and thus perfect timing to catch George Romero’s debut. A little pumpkin pie gelati from Jeremiah’s right down the street, a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks, or a pumpkin beer would make this night nearly perfect.
Decisions, decisions!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Died and Gone to Heaven
Lately I’ve been finding myself going back to my roots as I do from time to time. The last month has been full of hanging with old friends back in New Smyrna Beach, NOFX and Pennywise, and now a trip to the local record store to indulge in second-hand delights and rock and roll nostalgia. When I was in my early teens and figuring out what I was shaping who I was to become, I immersed myself in the past. My favorite subject in school was history, and I really gained an interest in cultural history. Every Friday I would go to the public library and take out books on the sixties and seventies and movies like Nosferatu, Rear Window, and Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I had pictures of Greta Garbo and Joan Crawford on my folders right next to my Pump Up the Valuum sticker and clippings of Slipknot from that month’s Guitar World. At night I’d light incense and get high on the poetry of Jim Morrison and Allen Ginsberg, and on weekends my best friend Kayla and I would be driven around town by her mom to the vintage shops in town.
Today I hung out with my new pal Lisa- an Orlando transplant hailing from Austin, Texas. We decided at some point in the day to hit up Twisted Bliss over on Ivanhoe Row. My favorite thing to get there is the chocolate brownie and peanut butter Italian ices, and since the weather is amazing now that we’re into October we hung out on the patio and ate our treats. Across the street is Rock & Roll Heaven, a place I’ve heard a ton about and always only end up driving past and saying, “Man, I need to go there soon!” Being the complete music junkie that I am, I knew that it would be a good afternoon adventure if I could ever find an afternoon to dedicate to flipping through all of the used records that I wish I had a player for.
As soon as I stepped inside, I knew why the store was named such. Everything you could think of was there- back issues of magazines, original-packaged toys and memorabilia, posters, and of course crates and crates of CDs and records. I strolled each aisle, sometimes twice, lovingly looking upon all of the records and wondering if they were original pressings. I saw so many things that made me smile! I spotted a Victory Records sticker on a glass case, which sparked brief conversation between one of the store clerks and I. There was Punk-O-Rama and Vol. 3- Punk-O-Rama Vol. 2 was actually my first taste of many of the bands I got into later on.
Though I didn’t walk away with them, I did get a few sticks of patchouli incense, The Way We Were on VHS, The Definitive Collection: Etta James on CD, and a free Victory Records sticker. Had I more disposable income that day, I would have walked away with the 2 Elliott Smith records I saw, the Dead Kennedys record buried deep in a stack in the Punk/Hardcore section, The Rocky Horror Picture Show on VHS, and the Me First and the Gimme Gimmes record I would have picked up for good measure to play on a second-hand record player.
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