I said welcome to my show!

I turned 29 on March 3rd, 2010. One year away from..thirty. Scary thought indeed. So I celebrated by living out my greatest childhood fantasy. I fronted my rock n roll band playing in front of a sold out crowd in one of the most beautiful outdoor venues in the world. Ok, so maybe I actually played on a small stage to about 40 people. But to me, I was in a jam packed arena in front of screaming fans who knew every word to every song we sang. Its what i always wanted since as long as I can remember. And yet, on my 29th birthday, it was my band's first proper show. Though in reality it was the second time my band Myerjack had played for people. The first time was interesting to say the least.

The genesis of my band goes back to 2000. Or at least the name does. I would love to say that it was a name i drew on fictional posters that I envisioned would be plastered all over the world. But it all came about far more accidentally. And in all fairness maybe goes back a little farther.

In high school, I was in the marching band clique but had aspirations to branch out. No easy task for a short guy with a mullet and braces but I was gonna go for it. Slowly I crept out of that pigeonhole. I was lucky that I had a carefree attitude and would just talk to people and found that people usually would talk back regardless of social status. I was on good terms with a lot of people that others in my position should not have been. Confidence is key. There was one girl I decided I would get to know.

This girl was cute but I was more intrigued by her than anything. She had a sweet smile but I knew nothing about her. We were in a few classes together so I decided that I would speak to her as well. Sure to my plan it worked and this girl who was not of my social circle was soon talking with me on a daily basis. It was never romantic or anything and it was never supposed to be. Just me reaching beyond my limits that others enforced and accepted. More on that another time.

Fast forward to after graduation and in the year 2000. I am in Wal Mart with my family. Ugh I wish this story did not start out that way but what can i say? They rollback prices and I am in! In Wal Mart I am greeted by a voice I had not heard since before graduation. There was the girl with the sweet smile. She approached me and we exchanged pleasantries. We parted as my sister came walking over to me. She asked who that girl was. I told her it was Kristen Meyerjack. She looked at me and then said, "There's your band name." I dropped an "e" and Myerjack was born.

Ok so maybe it was just conceived. I would move to Nashville and play around with a few lineups before feeling that Myerjack was ready for the public stage. In March of 2007, our drummer Brandon said that his boss wanted us to play at a party he was having. We had visions of how fun it would be to just get out and do a show. My partner in all things Myerjack is Justin Jacobs. He and I have been playing together since 2005 so we were feeling antsy to actually play for people.



We accepted the gig but we still had one problem. It wasn't lack of experience or anything that easy. We had no bass player. We had tried out a guy named Keith and decided we needed to accelerate the process. Keith fit with us and was a great guy so he officially joined the band the Tuesday before we were to play this show. Nothing like trial by fire. Lucky for us he was a quick study.



I was set to arrive later than everyone else. Due to my overnight job at the radio station, I had to sleep late. I wasn't nervous so I slept very well. I got dressed and started the 20 mile drive to the "show". Jake called me and told me this would be a very interesting experience. I listened to some early Def Leppard demos on my way. Here was a band that would go on to be huge in their very early raw unpolished stages. It gave me hope and put me at ease. I felt confident about our songs and ready to have some fun.



I arrived at the house to find my drummer arguing with his wife. This was no shock especially on a show day. I just knew his wife would try to sabotage anything good in his our our lives. Apparently one of them had locked their keys in their car and drama ensued. As the argued I made my way around the back of the house. I saw our gear placed on 4 pieces of plywood covering the grass. Not quite Madison Square Garden.

We took the "stage" and played 5 songs. No one really paid any attention to us. I wondered why we were even there. The "crowd" was fifty feet away and to the left in a tent. As we weren't a cover band I could not blame them for not paying attention. It was an odd idea to even have us there. I think our drummer's boss knew he had a band and figured it would be nice to let us play.

We played with some manufactured enthusiasm and I sang poorly. I half-assedly twirled a cane I brought as a prop. The vibe was just all wrong. And we played a ballad! What were we thinking? I am pretty sure even we were bored halfway through the song. The best part of it was that my buddy filmed it for us. We would have the opportunity to relive "The Plywood Show"(as it came to be known in band lore) over and over and as often as we wanted.

When we finished we figured we should celebrate this milestone for the band. It was decided we would hit up a chain eating establishment best known for their waitresses in tight white shirts and orange shorts. Of course the argument between our drummer and his wife continued and he decided not to join. After packing up we headed to the owl adorned restaurant. We spent the whole time ragging on the guy. This was the beginning of the end of his time in Myerjack. One step forward, two steps back.

With one gig under our belts we felt pretty good. We watched back the tape of our show like a football team watches a game. We strategized our strengths and weaknesses. We critiqued ourselves to improve upon our performances for next time. But that would be a ways off. before the end of '07, we had lost a bass player and a second guitarist. Happily we were able to replace our drummer quickly. We were on our way....

Just keep walking

After reading my previous blog(if you haven't yet, do so then come back here), you understand my feelings toward the ending of a relationship. But how do I find myself stuck in these things? Given what you must think of me as an almost human being, you no doubt can't believe any chick would really want to spend extended periods of time in my presence. What you don't realize is that so few are given the chance.

Let me take you back a few weeks. A buddy of mine from many years past(Tom, who you may remember from my blog about my first band) invited me out with some of his friends to celebrate his birthday. We sat at dinner as I became acquainted with his friends. Stories were exchanged and good times were had. After dinner we headed out to one of the lovely music/drinking venues on Broadway in Music City. Tom has a girlfriend so that left me and two of his buds flying solo. As one of his friends began to drink, he started going through every woman in the bar and picking out the good pieces of all of them. That is where he and I differed.

The optimist in him was looking at the good: Perfect Breasts, beautiful hair, great ass and well, you know the attributes men covet the most when half in the bag and looking for something whose morning breath won't be better than the face it emanates from. Yes he was in pursuit of something cuddly and was looking at the bright side of his options.

Those of us who don't drink are not so forgiving. Instead of looking at the good, I was and always am drawn directly to what is wrong with every woman I cross. When I explained this to my new best friend, he was intrigued. You see, he had some mornings he would regret and was intrigued of my ideas of being so finicky that some of the top Hollywood actresses would not find their way into my bed. He asked me then to lay out some of my supposed deal breakers. We played a game where he would pick out a girl and I would find some superficial reason why she would have no chance with me. He was entertained and yet completely fascinated. So this blog is for him.

Let's start with the superficial shall we.

Short hair. I like my women to have long hair. More specifically, it would be nice if they had better hair than mine. This is no easy feat I assure you so I can forgive that. But for me to find you attractive, you must have long hair. At least an inch past the shoulder if not a lot more. He pointed out to him what was an attractive girl who had a very closely shorn hairstyle. I told him to go for it. No thanks. Of course if you have long stringy hair and the tips or your ears are sticking through, keep driving through you Vulcan. Color me pet peeved.

Bad Teeth. I like my women to have all of their teeth...or at least all the ones that grew in. I know some of you...ok maybe one of you who may be reading this have a hereditary thing where some of your teeth did not grow in right. If you got a bridge, I can forgive. But to those of you who let them abscess and fall out, or have not fixed the problems caused by lazy childhood incisors not knowing when to let go, you will not find your way into my world. You have dental insurance! Fix it!

Porn attire. Look, we men love you ladies showing some skin. We really do. But I don;t care how popular Jenna Jameson is, we don't you dressing like a porn star or a prostitute behind on her rent. I'm not saying that walking in with a sweatshirt on and your day old hair in a bun is going to prompt me to approach you, but save that for when we are comfortable and enjoy each other's company. Classy but not frumpy is the way to go. Come in wearing a bra and a skirt, you will get my eyes, but not my ears.

Tramp Stamp! Or quite honestly any tattoo. My inebriated compatriot kept staring at the beautiful blonde bartender in this establishment. I could not blame him. She was indeed a tasty morsel. She looked very good in her sweatshirt, which is no easy task. He looked away and i caught her bending over. After catching a glimpse of her magnificent posterior in her ever so tight denim shorts, my eyes caught site of a foul blotch of permanent ink splotched right above her waist band. Ladies, please stop this. You can tell me that it means something to you. You can tell me you were young and dumb. But really, you don't need to justify your decisions to me. I am just some guy you just met who has no interest now in seeing you naked. No explanation necessary. I don't think the butterfly on your ankle is cute. I don't like brass knuckles on your left breast. I don't even like your memorial to your grandmother who read to you when you were 5 and your Teddy Ruxpin ran out of batteries. Beautiful story no doubt, but that still is not going to get you in the running.

Well that was superficial. And yet, let's look at what I left out. Age(well please be above 18), weight, race. Yup all that stuff is way secondary. If you are 43, a bit overweight(obesity looks good on no one sorry) and Korean, you are not automatically disqualified. That is, until we start talking.

Bad conversation. If you can't talk the talk, don't bother walking. Its a sad state of affairs that some women out there believe that men want a dumb chick, or at least one who is not smarter than them. Nothing is sexier than brains...and beautiful red hair covering the scalp atop the skull that protects said brains. Of course conversation is really more about social skills than smarts. But the two do intertwine. Please be socialized. If your parents sheltered you and kept you away from other kids the the point where you are afraid of your own shadow so you hide in the corner, we won't get long for long. Great conversation with a social and witty woman will stimulate me more than just about anything...well, within moments of meeting that is. Ladies, please be smart if you are. Be powerful and confident. If a guy is intimidated by that, then he is a little boy with issues and you can do better. You can do me.

Offspring. We get to talking. You are witty and I am enjoying our repartee. Then you throw out the idea that you are a mother. Single mothers can be hard working fantastic women who dedicate their lives to their children as the man who left them to do this is off doing blow off the back of a stripper. However they can't be potential mates for me. I don't like children. I don't want any. I don't want to be dad to your little buddy and I certainly don't want to hear stories about your spermed egg and the cute things it does now that it has broken free of your womb. I refer to children as "it" and would much rather you have a dog. At least you can leave your pup home for a few hours while we go to a concert. Now if you are a little older and your kid can be left home alone as you go to a concert, then the conversation is reopen! You have re qualified. Congratulations.

Those are just the easy ones. When we talk you will say things. I will be judging what you say and how you say it. I will listen to details that you are using for exposition and find they say more about you than the plot of your stories. You will tell me a heartwarming story about that one summer you spent with your mom and your step dad on a farm and how great it was and I will focus on the fact that your real dad was not part of your life and that may cause some "daddy issues". Its unfair, I know. But let's face it, its better than the guy who will bang you and slip out before the sun comes up. Its far nicer than the girl who will tell her friends the story of the cute guy she met but he was a loser because he had spinach in his teeth.

Yes these terrible guidelines I have laid out could make any woman angry. Then again, don't we all have these. I know my long hair is not for every girl out there. I know I am chunkier than I should be and shorter than I want to be. I can get rejected on these merits. Things I can and can't control. I judge you based on what you do, how you represent yourself and how you deal with situations. You judge me based on genetics and my written words of honesty and your notions of the perfect match. I just don't waste time. Mine or yours. But I can guarantee you I will be polite and courteous. Judging by what I have seen happening lately, not everyone is as courteous.

I'm not God's gift. I'm honest and harsh. However, I will keep these thoughts to myself and politely decline your invitation. I will lie to you as to why so that you walk away with your head up. I will not lie to you so that your head ends up in my crotch. If you make it to my world, you have passed many a test. Good for you. Sure you didn't want to be tested. But at least I am not some jackass who just wants to get in your pants and forget your name. And let's face it, there are always exceptions. Impress me! And I will do the same for you.

I'm an asshole. But you could do a lot worse. And let's face it, you have.

No need to whimper. No Need to shout. This party's over....

I am a single man. I know that with all these looks into my life that reflect my ever glowing personality that this is no easy piece of meat to digest, but it is true. And all you ladies out there who want to know just how glowing I am, my last breakup was done via text message. Yes, I sent the text. Your groans and red hot anger are somehow beaming through the information superhighway at lightning speed and resting firmly in that part of my brain directly behind my eyes that can only be compared to a brain freeze headache. As I drink my milkshakes rather slowly, I can only blame your disappointment and rage.

What kind of a man does this? Is he really more boy than man? I could go into a magical explanation as to why this was the right move with this particular girl, but I will spare you. No, I will just sum it up as succinctly as possible for you.

I'm an asshole.

There is no good way to end a relationship nor a less painful way. These are myths women like to believe in for some reason. And we men go along with it all the while knowing it means nothing. The Band Aid(or adhesive strip) rips the hair no matter how fast or slow or how far away you are when it is pulled. And yet emphasis is placed on this.

There is the respect factor. Supposedly there is a timetable of how long you are with someone that dictates how you break up with them. One such edict states that if you are with someone longer than a month then you are obligated to end your relationship with them in person, looking lovingly into their eyes and telling them that you have lost the power to care for them anymore. That the sound of them eating or the way they blow their nose or the way they sigh instead of speaking makes you want to punch your own face rather than sit in a room with them and talk about their day. Yes all of this is supposedly better related in person.

Ok but that is only if their is honesty in the break up. But women, I am going to part with a dirty secret here. You have conditioned us men to lie. You don't actually want to know if you are too fat for that dress, do you? You don't really want to know if that waitress is better looking than you are. When you anger us, you don't really want us to tell you. A good amount of us who are older than the Emo generation can actually sort out our own issues with what you do and look past them, thus not angering you and maintaining the status quo. And you would not have it any other way.

So why should all of this not apply to the end? Do you really want to know why we are breaking up with you? Do you really want to know what you did wrong? Or would you rather the "It's Not You It's Me"? If we didn't point out your faults during the relationship, why should we start now? Fixing your issues does nothing to help us if we are done with you. Sure we could be helping a brother out in the future. But let's face it, just because we are done with you does not mean we can't wait to help the next slimy XY chromosonian round third base and head for home.

No, we would rather let you believe that we are done with you for some silly reason. We all lie at the end. The only ones who don't are the ones who are caught cheating. It's the only moment of honesty in a relationship full of lies. The rest of us just end it the way we let it roll on. Full of deceit. We give you the excuses about moving in different directions. We tell you we need to find ourselves. We tell you that you are great but we need some space.

And ladies, is that really better? Women always end up asking some friend of a friend is there is someone else. Is that what you want? Do you want us to find the next one before we get rid of you? Does that make it better? Is it easier to think that we prefer someone in particular over you than choosing the hope that we can find someone better than you? Being told that we want someone else over you must be hard. But I imagine it is harder to be told that we just don't want you. The message is the same no matter what. We sugarcoat and we choose our words wisely but we are still saying that we don't want to be emotionally responsible for you anymore.

And how does the delivery of said message change any of that? Is it better to be told to your face that your face sickens me? Are you looking for a shred of decency and compassion in my eyes? Keep looking baby, I'm all tapped out. Then there is the indignity of the crying. And sorry men some of you fall into this world too. Who wants to see this? Is there anything more unattractive than a crying adult? Everything is leaking on your face at once. It is foul. You don't want to do that in front of me and I have no interest in seeing it. I don't owe it to you to sit through this, regardless of how long we have been together.

Then, there is the begging. I never understood this. If someone does not want to be with you, why do you want to convince them to stay with you. Once again I am looking at some guys out there too. Why try to win someone back? Winning ones affections for the first go around is a grand pursuit and always worth it. But trying to sell someone the same old car that they are looking to send to the scrap heap is just not reasonable. And your commission will suck if that is how you go about it. When someone says they no longer want to be with you, take it for what it is. Don't make them explain exactly why you have no chance of convincing them to change their mind. Let it go.

And what better way to ensure that none of this embarrassment happens than to do it over the phone. Sure you could call, but whimpering and crying sounds terrible over wireless phones. And the begging is usually a second behind the answers as to why you are no longer wanted so that could get frustrating. But this is still an option.

In today's modern world we have an even better way of breaking up from another household. Short Messaging Service aka SMS aka Text Messaging has changed everything. In 160 characters or less I can sum up how it's not you and that we are going in different directions. And the best part is that you can calculate your response and save face. Yes, there is a very quiet dignity in our 21st century toys. All words chosen wisely and no words said in pathetic sadness that you will later regret.

I know you are asking about email and Instant messaging but these are truly child's play. The lack of instant in e-mail means you are stuck in this relationship until the other person acknowledges receipt of said message. That is far too long to be stuck with someone you want away from. And Instant Messaging is practically dead due to unlimited text plans on phones so just send the Termination of Relationship plan direct to their 10 digits and be on your way.

I've made a lot of generalizations here. I've always said you can hurt yourself being offended at what I think or have to say. If you are offended, then maybe you need to step away from the keyboard. Or maybe you see some shred of truth in my lack of humanity that scares you. Either way, no not every man or woman is like this. Quite honestly I see more men taking on the formerly female role in relationships and more importantly and sadly, break ups. There is no good way to be told someone doesn't feel for you how you do for them. The best you can do is break up with them and let them hate you. Being "nice" in a break up only makes the person hurt more because you are so great even in ending things. Make them hate you and you have done it right. In our times, 160 digital characters travelling over a 3G(or 4G but let's face it, if you are on Sprint, your messages don't go through anyway) network is the humane way of making someone let go. Anything else is a waste of time.

Yep. I'm an asshole.