Alice Cooper w/ special guest Batboy (8-12-11)

Yep, me and Gig went to see one of her long time heroes last night... Alice Cooper. Last year we saw him at a minor league ballpark in Eastlake, Ohio as we were coming back from Cedar Point. And it was very cool. I googled him this morning because I was wondering how old the guy is. The answer is 63 years of age. But what's really impressive is his "tour strength." If you check out the dates, he plays tons of those monster festivals in Europe. But aside from playing for 100,000+ on several nights back to back, he comes back to the states and plays these small and midsize venues, old school theaters and modern casinos. Secondary markets like Scranton, Syracuse, Toledo, etc. I have the utmost respect for this guy because, and I know this sounds gay, he honestly cares about his fans. He's the true definition of rock and roll, even though he doesn't really sing. It's more like he's making these repeated snarling declarations with an occasional grunt or growl.

His band consists of consummate professionals. In a weird way, they reminded me of Paul McCartney's band. Totally different style but they all seem to understand their respective roles. I really dig the 1980's hollow metal drum sound. The bass player is fucking loaded with attitude. The one rhythm guitarist had this "gay biker/Rob Halford" motif which I thought was a little bit peculiar. And of course, Alice was at the top of his game. All the usual theatrics and the sound was exceptional. Stage A&E probably has the best sound of any outdoor venue I've ever been to. I can't think of any place better. It was a little bit loud, but it was one of those times when the volume level made sense. Usually it's just loud for the sake of being loud. As usual, we skipped the opening act and strolled in on the cusp of crunchtime for the opener - Gig's favorite song "Black Widow." As luck would have it, they closed with my favorite - "Elected."

Before the show, we snagged some beef pad thai and spring rolls to go with our wine and Amstel Lights. Great stuff from Nicky's Kitchen on the North Side. I highly recommend grabbing takeout from there. I know, I know, you only want to get Primanti's. Not much of a tailgating presence which I thought was kind of surprising considering it was a crowd of seasoned, veteran concertgoers. And it was refreshing to see plenty of younger kids dressed up to the hilt, adorned with face paint and spikes. But these are kids that actually love rock'n'roll, not those moronic, emo-vampirical, gothic, wannabe douchebags with their overpriced t-shirts their mom bought for them at JC Penney's. Hey, she thought it looked cool because "it's the style these days."

So we rocked it out and bolted back to Reserve township. We conked out before midnight. So much for rocking til the break of dawn. But then it happened. At 6:45 am, I awake to Gigi hysterically screaming her brains out running around the bedroom naked. She's in frantic convulsions trying to put on a nightgown. "Eric, HELP! There's a bird in the room! HELP ME!

But it's not a bird, It's a FUCKING BAT and it's flying back and forth. It nearly misses the ceiling fan. It may have gotten clipped. My first reaction was to cowardly cover myself with the blanket. I figured if the window was open, it would just fly away. Gig runs downstairs to get the cats. Maybe Tyson or Cooper will offer assistance. Nope. Their reaction was to "tuck tail and run" back to the basement. You'd think they'd at least be interested in all this ruckus. You would think wrong.

So there's a moment of brief calm as I get up. The bat has seemingly disappeared. Hopefully, it flew out the window. WRONG. I nudge the bedroom door and it's on the floor twitching around between the door and a large cushion. Gigi starts yelling for me to kill it. She runs down the stairs and grabs a broom and hands it to me. Then, she runs out of the room and shuts the door behind me!

This was my moment of truth. It's just me, BroomHilda vs. Batboy in an ill-timed bedroom brawl. I wouldn't recommend purchasing this if it ever shows up on pay-per-view. So I took the broom and mercilessly started beating the hell out of it. The bat really never stood much of a chance. I think I slammed the base of the broom (where the bristles unite to form that solid part) upon the bat about 14 times in 2.6 seconds. Each crushing blow delivered with maximum impact. The sweeping fury was executed with such force, I somehow managed to slightly dislocate my left thumb. But hey, it was a major adrenalin rush and I wasn't leaving anything to chance. Following the bat beat, beat bash, broom down, there was a small puddle of blood which stained the carpet.

Comparisons have already been made to the Navy Seals night time commando raid on Bin Laden's compound in Abbottobad. Would I wrap up the remains of batboy in a ceremonial shroud, bow my head in a gesture of respect, say the appropriate prayer and dump him in the Allegheny? Nope. I broomed him into a cardboard box and Gig skiddishly threw a tall kitchen bag around it. Then, it was temporarily taken to the basement. About 10 minutes later, she grabbed the bag and said she was going to throw it in the WPXI dumpster. As for the stained carpet, the flood of blood was treated with a heavy dose of Renuzit or the OxyClean stuff.

All the meanwhile, I had a pretty bad hangover. My headache got much worse when I got back home. So I went to Riesbeck's and bought a container of "Our Family" Ibuprofen. I gulped down 3 pills and walked around the parking lot a few times in a complete daze. I resembled something like a disheveled zombie. It got me to thinking about all the weird coincidences of last night/this morning.

A. All the blood, guts and gore from the Alice Cooper concert
B. The irony that they've been filming the new Batman movie all over Pittsburgh and it's constant coverage on the news.
C. I felt like and resembled one of those zombies from the show last night.
D. One of my all-time favorite scenes from The Office was when Dwight went after the bat and traps it inside a garbage bag along with Meredith's head. Her shrieking reminded of Gigi's screams. Dwight's heroism somewhat mirrored my own.

As if the bat every stood a chance. It was much like Munich, with the Jews doing the asskicking. That anti-semitic Hezbollah winged bat should have thought twice before he declared war on a hungover West Virginian atheist Jew.