Confessions of an Rx Addict

About two years ago, I was very pregnant (five days away from my due date to be more specific), and watching my favorite band play for the last time ever, tapping the drum beats on my belly. If my little boy couldn’t ever see them play live, at least he could hear and feel them play their farewell tour in utero. 

Me backstage at the SLC farewell tour stop.  7/25/2011.

It’s been a long road of loving the Rx Bandits, one that started the first time I saw them play in a tiny garage known as Kilby Court in 2001, and has continued on for more than a decade. I’ve seen them play live over 40 times in a total of 9 U.S. states. I realize this makes me sound like a complete and total fangirl, but I’m OK with that. It’s a label that I will proudly own up to when it comes to Rx. I love music. Lots of different kinds of music. But the music of the Bandits just hits a spot in my soul, makes me dance, makes me happy, makes me think, and makes me do crazy things like fly to New York City, hop a train to New Jersey, and drag my luggage through the ice and snow to attend a show in a tiny, sweaty club in Asbury Park.

At this, the two year mark of the birth of my baby boy and the farewell tour of RXB, and mere weeks away from seeing their SLC stop on The 10 Year Resignation Anniversary Tour, I thought it would be a great time to chronicle some of the most memorable, insane, and super amazeballs RXB shows that I’ve had the pleasure of attending….as well as one that I didn’t quite make it to.

It was August something-or-other in 2001 and a few of my really good friends were in a band called Zero to Hero. One of the best spots for aspiring local bands to get their first gig was the infamous Kilby Court in downtown Salt Lake City. It’s a garage-turned-furniture-studio-turned-venue where I’ve had the immense pleasure of seeing tons of crazy good bands before they make it big. I’ve even played the stage myself. It’s small, crowded, freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer, and a great spot to open for a national, touring band and get your gig legs under you before embarking on a tour yourself. So, Zero to Hero got a spot opening for Rx Bandits, and I headed to Kilby, not really expecting much. I’d heard “Analog Boy” on a Drive-Thru Records sampler that wasn’t bad, but little did I know that I was about to become a super fan. After only one live set, I was totally hooked. 

Rx plays Kilby Court - August 2001

The view from my very first Rx show

Growing up, I played the alto saxophone and had a mild affinity for jazz, ska, and any genre that made use of my instrument. So, while I appreciated those ska flavors in a few of their songs, they weren’t what drew me in. The band was crazy energetic and passionate about their tunes, the trombonist played air guitar on his instrument and danced around like a lunatic, the drummer was a MACHINE, the horn section joined in and played drums on a few songs, and… I may or may not have had a crush on the lead singer, Matt Embree, and his lyrics. I was writing for SLUG Magazine at the time and I couldn’t wait to get back to my apartment in Provo to write my review of the show, and listen to the shiny new CD I picked up at the merch booth: “Progress.”

Fast forward three months. I met a dashing young man named Mason who shared my love for live music, and I also found out that RX was playing a show at the House of Blues in Las Vegas. Those two ingredients were the perfect recipe for our first road trip as a couple, with our friends Annan and Lisa. 

Lisa, Annan, me and Mason. November 2001 at House of Blues Las Vegas

Looking back at the line-up now, it really makes me giggle to see the rise and fall of various indie and mainstream bands in a few short years. Thrice was the opener (I’d never even heard of them at this point, but would later interview them for SLUG, see them live at least 10 times, and dislocate my jaw in one of their pits), followed by RX, followed by old-timers H2O, and…New Found Glory was the headliner. We pushed our way to the front row (through throngs of NFG teeny boppers), danced our feet off, and went to talk to the band after the show. We told them that we had driven over 400 miles to see them, and thus began a decade of the Bandits thinking that these kids from Salt Lake City were totally insane. 

I'm really excited about these tickets to see New Found Glory

Later that year, I saw a post on a message board that Rx Bandits were looking for someone to replace Rich on the trombone. I emailed them right away and asked if they would consider an alto sax player that could sing, and Matt wrote back, “Sax is sick” and started asking questions about my influences and availability to tour. I lived a few brief days feeling like Mark Wahlberg in “Rock Star,” imagining myself in the studio and on tour with a band I really loved. But when all was said and done, I was a working, full-time college student, they had a brutal schedule, and I think we can all agree that it’s a really good thing they ended up with Steve Borth as Rich’s eventual replacement. I really love what his vocals (as well as his sax of course) brought to the mix.

Mason and I had been dating for a few months, and my 21st birthday was approaching. Through some twisted twist of fate, guess who was playing a show in Sin City on my 21st birthday? Ding, ding, ding, you guessed it! Annan, Mason and I trekked to Vegas once again and saw Rx play a tiny venue called Tremorz with openers Yellowcard and The Exit. Yellowcard went on to experience some moderate fame with their violining-while-backflipping schtick, so it’s always fun to say “I saw them when…..” but I wasn’t really impressed that night. The Exit, however: very impressive. 

Me, Matt, Annan and Mason (with a drumstick from The Exit).  Las Vegas, February 2002.

That summer, Mason and I broke up. And got back together. And broke up again. Yeah, 2002 was one of THOSE summers. In a rebellious and fleeting moment after one of the break-ups, I decided that Annan and I should go see a few Rx shows as single ladies. We packed up my tiny Civic with our sleeping bags, our giant Case Logic CD wallets (remember those?), and our 52 ounce mugs of Diet Coke with lemon, and drove to Visalia, California. We had no hotel room, no itinerary, and basically no plan whatsoever. We ran out of gas and almost got kidnapped in the Mojave desert, we spent the night at some random fan’s house with the band, we took showers at truck stops, we sat in the tour van, we helped load equipment in to a tiny venue in Fresno, we made out with a merch guys, we camped on a hotel’s front lawn and got awakened by sprinklers, I got to sing a duet on stage with Dynamite Boy, and Matt played one of my requests for the very first time (“Nothing Sacred”). 

Singing "No Way Out" with Dynamite Boy.  Fresno, CA 2002.

Gak, Derrick, Joe, Annan, etc. playing king's cup in Visalia, CA.

Rx Bandits, Dynamite Boy, and The Reunion Show Tour, 2002

Slumber party!

Looking back, my only regret is that Mason wasn’t there to share in that trip of a trip. WE WERE ON A BREAK!

Obviously, we eventually got back together, saw some more Bandits shows, and in June of 2003, we got married. That summer, Annan, Mason and I embarked on an epic adventure (an extended honeymoon, if you will) to see a few shows in Texas and Louisiana. “The Resignation” had just been released, and I remember suffering from a very literal and very serious case of Rx FEVER. I seriously couldn’t listen to them or see them live enough. That album was so many levels above “Progress,” they had new members, new instruments, and a completely new live show that needed to be experienced over and over again. We flew to Houston and on July 24, 2003, we experienced the sweatiest Rx show of our young lives at a venue called Java Jazz in the suburb of Spring, Texas. When we drove up to the venue that night, Matt was sitting on the back of their van’s trailer, and we waved at him as we passed by. I will never forget the look on his face. If there had been a caption to that photo, it would’ve been, “Is that really those bleeping kids from bleeping UTAH?!?!?!??!” It was classic.

This girl has been to a couple hundred shows and gotten pretty darn sweaty, but hands down, that show in Spring was the hottest and sweatiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I lost two pounds of sweat, but I also gained seven pounds of other people’s perspiration in my clothes and my hair. We ran straight to our car after their set, stripped down, and sat half-naked in front of the A/C vents, wringing our sopping wet shirts out the window. It was fantastic.

Rx had the next night off, so we traveled to Austin to see the city and another show at Emo’s. I think we saw Further Seems Forever, but I’m not 100% sure. All I remember is that Austin was a great little music town with excellent shopping, and that it was HOT as all get out. The following night, we broke all the rules on the rental car contract that I signed and drove Lance, our Mitsubishi Lancer, over state lines, across the great Mississippi River, and into Louisiana. Rx was scheduled to play at a tiny venue in Baton Rouge called The Spanish Moon, but there was trouble in paradise. Joe was having abdominal pains of epic proportions that turned out to be appendicitis. Wah wah.

The moral of the story is this: sometimes when you fly 1500 miles to Texas and drive another 270 miles to Louisiana to see a band, they end up cancelling their show. And that’s just life. However, the second moral to the story is this: when an Rx show is cancelled due to the bass player being in the hospital, sometimes Matt Embree will play a solo set to make you feel better. OK, it wasn’t really for me, but it really did make me feel better. He did some great renditions of Rx songs, including the only time I’ve seen “Pal -Treaux” live, and a few covers as well. The one that really sticks out in my mind was his version of Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine.” Borth joined him on stage to sing harmony, but you better believe that I was watching from the front row, wishing that I was the one singing with him. You see what I did there? That’s a little literary tool known as foreshadowing!

A few years and more than a few shows passed. We continued our regular routine of seeing them every time they played in SLC (of course), and anywhere close(ish). 

Another Kilby Court show

Matt's not on board with the cheek kiss

They all spent the night at Annan’s house after a show at Club Xscape, and I’ll not soon forget how rock ‘n roll Canyon View Drive looked with a tour van and trailer parked on it. We made a Disneyland trip out of one of their House of Blues shows (where Nate from Finch guest-starred on “Infection”), sweated it out in the basement of Jerry's Pizza in Bakersfield, and made it to Vegas a couple more times as well. 

Cut to the next truly memorable show experience: Asbury Park, New Jersey at The Stone Pony in late 2006. A good friend of ours was returning from a two-year stint in the Peace Corps in Africa via NYC, so a group of us decided to surprise her with an airport rendezvous and extended stay. Like I always did before departing for a trip, I checked to see if there were any good shows in the NY area, and you guessed it: there was an Rx show! One problem, well two problems: it was the night we arrived, and we weren’t set to land until around 7 pm, and two, it was in New Jersey. With much scouting of the MTA website, I found us a way to land at JFK, take the subway to Penn Station, and then get on another train that would take us out to Asbury Park in time for the show. The scary part was that the last train left Jersey a bit before midnight, and if we didn’t catch that train, we’d be stuck in the garden state without a paddle.

We knew it would be a bit hectic, but we were still pumped. Then I got a cold. Then I gave it to Mason. Then we realized that we’d have our luggage with us on the entire blessed Jersey journey. Then we landed at JFK and it was go-time. We made the trains, stepped on to a frozen solid platform and started our trek to the club, all the while wheeling around our luggage behind us, through puddles of slush and ice. We were basically screaming out, “WE ARE CLUELESS TOURISTS. PLEASE COME AND MUG US.” Walking into the club, a heaven-sent wave of humid heat greeted us. It was stinky-show-smell, but who cares? It was warm. I somehow coerced the bouncer into letting us leave our bags in a utility closet and we managed to have a blast at the show, despite needing to blow my nose about 29 times throughout. There was no time for mingling afterwards, we had to haul back to the train before its midnight departure.

Some kind Jersey fans agreed to give us a lift to the train, and we gave them a CD of our band, The Precinct, in return. That train ride from Asbury Park to Penn Station to Brooklyn was one of the scariest hours of my life, I’ll be honest. At one point I was fairly certain that Mason was going to get attacked by a drugged-up homeless dude, and the rest of the time had the creepiest man alive staring at me from across the aisle, following us from train to train. Alas, we survived, and had a memorable, crazy good time in the Big Apple with our closest friends.

In April of 2007, the University of Wyoming booked Rx to play a show on campus, and we thought it was a stupendous opportunity for a road trip across the wasteland of the Cowboy state. Annan, Rebecca, Mason and I took half-days at work and piled in our Saab 9-5 Aero (that detail becomes important later) and drove due East. I’ll just be honest here, I wasn’t driving super responsibly. We were in a hurry to complete the 6-hour commute before the show started, and I happened to be driving a turbo-charged vehicle that felt smoother and more fabulous at 110 mph than it did at the posted speed limit of 75. We stopped for treats and switched drivers at a truck stop in the literal middle of nowhere, and when Mason took the wheel, he agreed that our noble steed, Simon, was a champion at top speeds and decided to “see how fast this baby can go.” Famous last words.

The turbo whirred, the tires hugged the totally vacant road, and it was exhilarating. We had only been going over the legal limit for a mere 30 seconds (and didn’t intend to carry on at that ridiculous speed for more than a minute) when I looked down and saw the speedometer approaching 140. It was at that moment that something caught the corner of my eye. Something horrible. Something terrifying. The worst thing one could ever encounter on I-80: a highway patrol car. I yelled out “5-0!” and Mason hit the brakes and immediately slowed us back to 70 mph. The stream of expletives that filled our tiny cockpit at that moment was very impressive. The good news: the cop was across a giant median, speeding in the opposite direction. The bad news: I looked back to see his Impala jumping said giant median, lights flashing and sirens blazing.

Did you guys know that the cops have radar on the front AND the back of their vehicles? And that they don’t even need to be pointing the gun at you to clock your speed? Those nifty contraptions can take a reading from across a median, going the opposite direction, from the front and from behind! It’s pretty amazing. A feat of modern technology, really.

We pulled over and Officer Whatshisname declared that he had clocked us going 124 on his front radar and 111 on his rear radar. He actually seemed a little bit impressed with himself for catching the biggest fish Carbon County had seen in years. The rest of the night was kind of a blur. Mason got handcuffed and stuffed in the back of the Impala, Rebecca drove us 40 miles back in the other direction to the county jail in Rawlins, and I took on the role of hysterically crying wife. We booked a night at a hotel across the street while Mason himself got booked. I called Matt to let him know that we wouldn’t be making the show after all, due to incarceration, and that he could take us off the guest list. “That’s pretty rock ‘n roll,” he said. It was one of the few smiles I cracked that night.

In the morning, I walked over to the jail to sit in on my husband’s very first (and hopefully last) hearing. I had never been happier to see my love than I was that morning. He had survived his first (and hopefully last) night in jail, and he looked so cute clad in an orange jumpsuit and matching orange slip-on Vans. The judge let my Mason off with a big fat ticket, a stern warning, and a hilarious question when the evidence was presented that the accused was clocked going 124 in a 75. “124? Were you driving a car or flying a plane?” This was particularly amusing to me because I’d been a Saab enthusiast (read: nut) since the age of 8. Saab started out making aircrafts and their slogan at the time was “Born From Jets.” So he sort of was flying a plane.

"What we need right now is Love" by Mason Fetzer.  Spray paint on vinyl.  www.masonfetzer.com

Though we were forced to skip that particular show, the rest of 2007 was a red-letter year in terms of my Rx-show-going. In August, a trip to a SoCal beach house with friends coincided with three shows on their tour with The Fall of Troy, and in the fall, the University of Utah invited the Bandits to play their annual Redfest. I’d been going to Redfest for years. Even if I didn’t particularly love the bands they booked, tickets were FREE with your (or your friend’s) student ID, so we would always go and enjoy some live music while watching the sun set over the Salt Lake valley. The Format, Straylight Run, Rx, and Jack's Mannequin were scheduled to play the sunset show, but as a part of the festivities, they booked local bands to play throughout the day at the Union. The Precinct was asked to play an hour set during lunch time. Even though we played a good 8 hours before Rx came on stage, this is where I like to say, “One time, we opened for Rx Bandits.” It counts, right?

Our set went well, I went back to the office, and then we headed back to campus after work for the show. I’d discovered The Format years earlier (thanks to Rx for touring with them) and had always been impressed with Nate and their live show. The Precinct even covers a couple of their songs. Now everything has come full circle. Nate’s new band Fun. headlined that very same Redfest in 2011, and now they are Grammy-winning-radio-regulars in 2013. I couldn’t be happier for them and their success, but I digress. The crowd at Redfest was excellent. I have no doubt why most bands say that Salt Lake is one of their favorite cities to play. We all sang every word to The Format and waited impatiently for los Banditos to take the stage. They had played Salt Lake a mere week after “…And the Battle Begun” came out earlier that year, but only the superfans who had pre-ordered the album and listened to it 129 times before that show knew any of the songs. I think that’s why the Redfest crowd was so particularly pumped: seeing those songs live for the first time (after you know and love the album) is a spiritual experience, for sure. I’d seen the ATBB set about 6 or 7 times already, but that didn’t make it any less spiritual.

The title track is my favorite off that album—and maybe even my favorite of all time—so when I heard Gak start the intro, I turned to jelly. I looked over towards the middle of the crowd and saw one of my favorite things I’ve ever seen at a Bandits show: a dude holding his shoes above his head, paying homage to the line, “Take off your shoes baby, it’s time for dancing.” I wanted to go give that guy (whoever he was) a big hug at that moment. The set continued in sheer face-melting awesomeness, and then they started “Only For the Night.” I was dancing and singing and jumping around as usual, but then I heard something that made me stop. Matt had changed the lyrics and given us a shout out. Rather than “She makes it better….only for the night,” he sang, “The Precinct makes it better…only for the night.” One of my favorite Rx moments, to be sure.

I had been following the various band members’ side projects throughout this whole ordeal as well, and Seekret Socyetee’s “The IL2 Word” had become one of my favorite hip-hop records ever. While driving Matt to some after-show grub in my car, the Neil Young song on the random mix that was playing came to an end. What was next up on the mix, you ask? Why, it was “To Each His Own” by Seekret Socyetee, of course. AWKWARD. I looked over (somewhat horrified) at Matt, who was just sitting there laughing. Probably one of my least favorite Rx moments, to be sure.

When the Love You Moon record came out, I was instantly hooked. I’d always loved Matt’s acoustic tracks, and it was simply a great and diverse album, from start to finish. However, whenever bands that I really love collaborate with a female singer, and that female singer is not me, I get a little pissed off and jealous (in a hilarious teenage girl sort of way). Tried as I might though, there’s no way I could ever hate Lauren Coleman. Her voice is just mesmerizing. It’s so chill and vintage sounding, and she’s just adorable. I’d first heard her on V.I.T.A.L Emcee’s “Slouch Hat,” and then when she was featured on Love You Moon’s record as well, I just had to accept the fact that she was Matt’s go-to female vocalist. And now there’s Pebaluna. Sigh.

In 2010, Matt was doing a solo tour to promote Love You Moon, and he was scheduled to play none other than Kilby Court, the place where I’d seen Rx for the first time nearly 10 years earlier. He called Mason the day of the show and asked for a ride from the airport. I’m sure that flying alone as opposed to driving in a van or tour bus with the dudes was quite a departure (no pun intended). So, we picked him and his guitar up at the airport and drove over to Kilby. We had a couple of drinks out of the trunk of our car and Matt asked if we had any drums or percussive devices to enhance his solo sound. I told him that we didn’t, but that I’d be more than happy to lend some vocal support on harmonies if it was needed. He asked which song I knew. I didn’t know how to say “ALL OF THEM” without sounding like the geek that I am, so I just said, “How about ‘A New World?’” which is basically a duet with Lauren. We ran through it once right there in the alley with the new tempo he’d been working on, and just like that, my dream of singing on stage with Matt was about to come true. 

Me and Matt on stage at Kilby Court, 2010

The show was tons of fun, especially because it had been so long since they’d played a tiny little venue like that. It was intimate and acoustic and awesome. Matt called me up on stage, we sang our ditty, and it was honestly in the top 3 moments I’ve ever experienced with a mic in my hand. It was simply as epic as I’d always envisioned it, and I didn’t even forget the words.

Some random kids invited Matt (and Annan, Mason and I by extension) over to their place after the show, and those warm fuzzies I had on stage lasted for hours afterwards as we talked and jammed. We even did a rendition of my favorite Jimi Hendrix song “Castles Made of Sand.” It got late and Matt asked if he could crash at our place, so we picked up some drive-thru Mexican food and headed home. If you thought that a Seekret Socyetee song playing while he was in my car was embarrassing, wait until you hear about the guest room that we put him up in.

Band posters plastered every wall of our first apartment, but after we grew up, bought a house, and moved to suburbia, we relegated all the band posters to the band room. The band room is also, coincidentally, the only other room in our house with a bed. As we led him downstairs, we apologized profusely that he would have to sleep in a room where himself, his band mates, and hundreds of other dudes would be staring blankly at him while he slept. Yes, there are lots of other band posters up there, but come on, of course the majority of them are Rx posters. Oops, sorry you had to sleep in your own shrine, Matt.

As a hilarious parallel, later that summer, we rented a house in Huntington Beach with our friends and stayed an extra day to hang out with Matt. He didn’t have room at his place, so he put Al, Mason and I up at his mom’s house in Seal Beach. I felt kind of awkward putting her out like that, but when she showed us to HER guest room, I couldn’t help but smile and laugh. It was covered in Rx memorabilia. There were framed newspaper articles, reviews, records, and posters everywhere. So, even though we felt funny about making Matt sleep in his shrine at our house, he made us sleep in his shrine at his mom’s house, so it’s all good.

There have been so many more amazing shows that I haven’t written about. A bowling alley on Fremont Street in Vegas, a surprise trip to two shows in Arizona for Mason’s birthday, using my SLUG press pass to get us in to the San Francisco Warped Tour, staying at the same hotel as the band in Boise, and adventures in macaroni and cheese-making on Rx’s tour bus.

Rx Bandits play the San Francisco Warped Tour, 2004 (?)

But of all of these shows, the farewell tour takes the cake. When they announced their farewell tour, I was 3 months pregnant. They didn’t have specific dates posted yet, but I knew it would be in the summer. My due date was July 30. Right then and there, I had to set myself some boundaries.

“OK Carly, if the show’s anytime in June, that’s OK. You can stand in the back, wear some comfy shoes, and make sure not to get elbowed. If the show’s in early July, you’re totally fine. If the show’s in late July, it gets a little iffy. And Carly, if you have a 3-day old baby, you CANNOT go to the show. Just face it. You can’t. You would be the most horrible mother in the land if you left your new new new newborn baby with Grandma (though she wouldn’t protest) to see a band you’ve already seen too many times. You just can’t. But Carly, it’s their FAREWELL TOUR!!!! Carly, don’t argue with me.”

Then Salt Lake’s date was posted: July 25. Ugh. There probably couldn’t have been a worse date. If Townes came early, there was no way I could go. If he came on time, I’d be the giant whale with a backache at the rock show. If he decided to come on July 25, I’d be the lady getting rushed out of the venue because her water broke during the opening band. The good news is that they put us on the list, so I didn’t have to worry about buying tickets that I wouldn’t be able to use. Then it was time to play the waiting game.

On July 25th, I felt pretty darn good and we decided to go to the show. We brought a case of local Utah brews, a painting that Mason had been working on for Matt and V.I.T.A.L.’s new side project, and met Matt, Choi, Joe and Gak on the tour bus. Everyone hugged and drank beers, I drank water, and Matt asked us what songs we wanted to hear that night. Having them play one of your requests is definitely awesome, but helping to WRITE THE SET LIST is beyond compare. I made sure Dinna Dawg, Taking Chase, Infection, and ATBB made the cut. The only one they wouldn’t give me was “Bled to be Free (The Operation)” because it was apparently too hard and they hadn’t practiced it. Jerks.

It’s a good thing we brought some beers, because they were all very confused as to why the liquor store was closed that day. Explaining Utah’s state holiday, Pioneer Day, to a group of Californians was totally amusing.

They were kind enough to explain to the bouncers that I was about to pop, gave me a fancy wristband, and offered me a seat backstage. The problem was, at this venue, there wasn’t really any sort of “back” stage to speak of. There was the stage, and then a ramp leading up to the stage. So, Mason and I took our seats on the edge of the ramp, right out in the open, and sang our guts out at what might be the last Rx show of our lives. It was also the first and last Rx show that our baby boy would probably ever experience, so we were definitely sentimental about the whole thing. Townes LOVED it. He was dancing and flipping around at the beginning, and then I think the sound lulled him into a nice and relaxing sleep for the last 30 minutes of the set. 

Best seat in the house.  Farewell tour, 2011.

Stage-side view

Though I longed to be out in the crowd and my back ached, Joe was kind enough to point his fan directly at me, and helped to keep the whole thing as cool and comfortable as possible. Before we knew it, the set list we had helped write was coming to an end. I could tell that the crowd was in the same happy/sad mood that we were. Matt gave a shout out to us and to Townes from the mic, and the band stopped by for hugs and kisses on their way back to the stage for the encore. Afterwards, we hung out in the giant warehouse next to the venue, gleaned baby wisdom from Gak, and let Joe feel the baby kick. If it truly had been the last Rx show of my life, I could have died happy.

Gak, Matt, Mason, and a very pregnant me

Joe wanted the baby to kick him in the head, and he did!

Lucky for me, and for all of humanity, the hiatus is back off again, and it was NOT the last Rx show I’d ever see. The Bandits played their first stop of the tour last night in San Francisco, and in exactly three weeks, I’ll be enjoying the sweet sounds of The Resignation from the middle of the crowd with all the other non-pregnant Rx fans. And though I’ll admit that I don’t solely eat, sleep and breathe to go to Rx shows anymore, I am truly excited to see what this reunion will bring. How will the songs have morphed from the last time I heard them live? How will the lack of Borth and Sheets (even if there are other horns) play out? Are there new songs? IS THERE A NEW ALBUM IN THE WORKS?! Most of all, I just can’t wait to see those damn Bandits take their rightful spots back on the stage.

Rx Bandits have been the first to say that they have the greatest fans in the world, and I am so ecstatic to be among their numbers. I’m sure there are thousands of other fans out there with similar hilarious, tragic, face-melting, and life-changing Rx stories. These are mine. And I can’t wait to add another one to the pile.

Take off your shoes baby, it’s time for dancing.
 

"matt steve joe" by Mason Fetzer
Spray paint on plexiglass www.masonfetzer.com

First words

Townes is in the funnest (yes, that's a word) phase right now.  For my own memory's sake, here are the words he's (almost) saying at (almost) 14 months.  I've included his pronunciation of the word in quotes:

 

Dad

Mama

Kitty  “kiiy”

Fish  “ish”

Banana  “nana”

Teeth  “tee”

Eye

Duck “duh”

Peach “each”

Ball 

Cheese “thee”

Bottle “baba”

And the best word the kid knows, complete with a point and some grabbing whenever he sees them:

Boobs “boooo”

 

 

Billboards are cheap, right?

Enter the grammar nazi once again.

We're driving home from a great weekend of fishing and hanging out in Ennis, Montana, and what do we see?  No fewer than 5 billboards for Young Kia, a car dealership in Kaysville containing a textbook grammar offense. I am seriously dumbfounded that companies will pay tons of money for someone to create them an ad, buy billboard space, print and post a huge billboard WITHOUT HIRING SOMEONE TO CHECK IT FOR CORRECT GRAMMAR.

Dear businesses: I will do this for you! For a very minimal cost!  Maybe even for free!  It's worth it for me to not have to see these atrocities on our streets and highways.  Who will think of the children?  Carly will, that's who.

My anger towards Young Kia had cooled slightly, but then today, while innocently watching a video on YouTube, what ad do you think popped up on my sidebar?

That's right.  Young Kia in Kaysville.  With the INDUSTRIES best warranty.  Really?  The fashion industry, the fast food industry, the steel manufacturing industry, the medical supplies indudstry....none of these have a better warranty than Young Kia, people.  And even if that's what they were trying to convey, their punctuation STILL would've been incorrect.  Let's break this down:

• INDUSTRIES' BEST WARRANTY:  The best warranty belonging to multiple industries
• INDUSTRY'S BEST WARRANTY: The best warranty in their industry (what they meant to say)
• INDUSTRIES BEST WARRANTY:  Doesn't even mean ANYTHING (what they did say)

First Steps

 I was folding laundry in the bedroom yesterday and lo and behold, I looked down to find Townes taking a few steps all by himself! As I was wondering if this was a fleeting moment or the real thing, my Mom rang the doorbell (she came over for dinner and a walk).

So we went into the living room, she got out her phone, and I thought, what the heck, let's just try again and see what happens. This is what happened! 



 

 

Apostrophe Catastrophe, volume 973

Why are apostrophes so difficult for the general population to understand and use correctly?  And why oh WHY don't companies have more than one proofreader before they name their establishments and have giant signs and window stickers made? 

The name of this store has always bugged me, as well as their hideous fonts and colors, the fact that it's all lower case, and that it ends with an exclamation point.  But it's the apostrophe usage that ticks me off the most:

 

Seriously?!  All that wear for just one kid?  Ugh.

Giving it a TRI

My beautiful and fabulous sister-in-law Chelsi registered for a women-only triathlon (TRIATHAMOM) back in March and began training. She invited family and friends to join her, and I’ll admit that I was intrigued, but it seemed like there were too many obstacles. I don’t own a bike, for one. And where the heck was I supposed to swim? My mom’s condo pool where you have to swim 49 lengths to equal 50 meters?

Then my friend Drea signed up for the very same race that Chelsi was doing, and what can I say? I was peer pressured into it. Our family trip to Sun Valley in early July definitely helped with the training. There were bike paths alllll over (Chamonix let me borrow her sweet bike), 2 pools begging for us to dive into them, and a whole passel of family members ready and waiting to join me on a morning run, an afternoon bike ride and an evening swim. I discovered the secret to making sure you work out HARD every day. It’s very simple: live your life on a permanent Sun Valley vacation with no job, perfect weather, built in babysitters and workout partners. Easy as pie.

After Sun Valley, I didn’t do much more biking or swimming, but I kept up on the running habit: 3 miles, 3-5 times a week. Just so you know, I am NOT a runner.

 

People who can run long distances boggle my mind and hurt my lungs. Seriously, it’s just as hard for me to run 3 miles today as it ever was. The routine part of it does get easier the more often you do it, but the workout itself is just as challenging for me. In fact, the biggest stress of the triathlon for me was definitely the run, particularly running 3 miles AFTER you have swam and biked. So, when I saw that there was a reverse triathlon in Bountiful 2 weeks before Triathamom, I happily signed up. In a reverse tri, you get the run out of the way first, then bike, and end with a nice refreshing dip in the pool.

The Bountiful Triathlon was awesome. I highly recommend it for anyone who’s curious—it’s a GREAT first tri. The run course is fairly flat, and the bike course takes you all the way out to the Legacy Parkway Trail. It was a super fun ride. The swim was a little hectic, just because I got stuck behind a slow swimmer who would NOT let me pass her. It was actually very frustrating to not be able to swim at my full-out and best pace. It was also painful, as she kicked me a few times. Oy vey. All in all though, it was an excellent race and I felt great at the finish line. The only sketchy part was hopping off the bike and running into the pool. It literally felt like my legs were made of JELL-O, and even though it was only a 100-meter run from the transition area to the pool, I felt super awkward, like I was just learning to walk. All I could think was, “Great, Carly, now try doing the ugly, awkward, stiff-legged JELL-O walk for 3 whole miles! Joy!” Here were my times:

Bountiful Triathlon
3.31 mile run - 32:43
Transition 1 - 02:33
11.35 mile bike ride - 45:58
Transition 2 - 01:15
350 yard swim - 09:28
Total time - 1:31:57

Triathamom was out in Kearns at the Oquirrh Park Fitness Center, right by the Olympic Oval—and it was a TOUGH race. It seemed to be advertised as a tri for beginners, but it was definitely a harder course. The fact that it was in the traditional order (swim, bike, run) made it harder for me, but the bike and run courses were hillier and harder than Bountiful as well. They did a staggered start for the swim, where you rank yourself as a 1-5, and swim with people of your same speed. For the swim times they listed, we probably should’ve been 3’s or 4’s, but Chelsi and I decided to rank ourselves as 2’s. It worked out fine and I think we were in the right group for our ability, we probably would’ve even kept up with the 1’s just fine. But we would’ve been hating life if we had gone with the 3’s or 4’s.

Getting on the bike sopping wet was…interesting. But once I started riding, the built-in AC felt very nice. The bike course was two loops, and the big huge hill on the second loop was…interesting. Chelsi and I found each other on the second loop and it was a lot of fun to have someone to ride with.

 

 

 

We finished the bike course together, and then Chelsi beat me out of the transition area and started on the run. Remember the aforementioned JELL-O legs? Um, yeah. Big time. Holy cow. Ouch. To make matters worse, the run course started uphill, on GRASS. The only thing that made me feel better during that first mile was looking ahead and seeing Chelsi taking tiny little steps, and struggling just as hard as I was. If she had just started sprinting with no apparent ailments, I think I might have collapsed and died right then and there.

After the first mile, it did get easier, but I still don’t feel like I was at my best on the run AT ALL. I was concentrating too hard on staying upright to try to go faster. At long last, I made it back to the grass trail and the finish line was in sight. My cute family was there, cheering for me and holding up their awesome homemade signs.

It felt great to finish in a sea of supportive family, and seeing my smiley baby boy was just icing on the cake.

My times reflected the difficulty of the course for sure, but who gives a bleep about times anyway? All I know is that I had a great time, and I only finished like 40 seconds behind super speedy senorita Chelsi. Not bad!

Triathamom

300 yard swim - 9:06

Transition 1 - 02:00

12.68 mile bike ride - 50:25

Transition 2 - 02:00

3.01 mile run - 34:31

Total time - 1:38:00

The best part of the whole experience, besides the feeling at the finish line, was the fact that it gave me something to work out FOR. I love exercising, but sometimes it is so hard to find the time and motivation to be consistent at it. On those mornings where I really didn’t want to get up and run, it really helped to say “You are training for a triathlon, you’d better get yo butt outta bed, girl!” I’m doing another one in November, so hopefully that will keep me in the groove.

Now that I’m a seasoned triathlete, I thought I’d share my wisdom with the masses (SARCASM). Totally kidding of course, but if you are thinking about trying a tri, here are some things that I learned doing my first two:

-A one-piece tri suit is the way to go. Mine is by Zoot, and I was very happy with the fit, the padding for the bike, the fuel pockets, etc.

-Wait until the morning of the race to get the body markings if you can. When you get marked up the night before, your sheets and your baby will be covered with black ink.

-For a traditional order tri, always put yourself in the faster swimming group, and let people pass you if needed. It’s much better to be polite and let someone pass you than to be stuck behind a slow, stubborn swimmer.

-Goos, gels, sports drinks, etc. are for the birds. I’m sure it’s different in a longer race, but I was fine with a banana beforehand, water during, and a couple of Shot Bloks on the bike ride. I got the strawberry kind and they just taste like a big fruit snack! They also fit very nicely in the fuel pockets in my tri suit, and I didn’t have to worry about opening a pack of goo while riding.

-Get to the transition area earlier than you think you’ll need to. At Triathamom, there wasn’t much space. We got there in the nick of time and barely secured 3 spaces on the very last bar, but there were tons that arrived after us that had to walk around and beg for people to scoot their stuff over to make room. You don’t want to be stressed about getting everything set up 10 minutes before start time.

-Reverse tris are the bomb.