10 Things My Girlfriend Said at Her First Metal Show

My girlfriend Liz recently attended her first metal show, and here are 10 things she said.

It’s Nice Not to Have to Wait in Line for the Bathroom

Metal isn’t known as the most welcoming genre to women, and for good reason. One barrier that metal (unintentionally) kicks down is women’s room waiting times, according to my girlfriend. Liz had popped a squat, grabbed a beer, and was already working on her next expedited trip to the bathroom while I still scrolled on my phone in line for the men’s room.

I Should Ask That Guy Where He Got His Perm

More than once I caught Liz’s eyes wandering over the course of the show. Not at other guys, mind you, but at the sheer number of their perms. It was a hair-sprayed, blow-dried, and teased crowd to be sure. The headbanger in front of us had a ramen noodle helmet so stiff it never moved an inch the whole night.

Nobody Has Sleeves

Liz pointed out that a lot of the guys had not only cut off the sleeves of their shirts, but many of them had removed the sleeves from their denim and leather jackets as well. She questioned why you would cut the sleeves off your shirt and then put a thicker layer on top of that. Once I explained to her that it was to create more space to cram metal patches onto, she understood.

Is There a Deodorant Shortage?

One major downside to the lack of sleeves in a packed, sweaty room is the overwhelming stench of moshing dudes. Your average metal show features a unique blend of armpit, cigarettes, beer, weed, and God knows what else. Still not as putrid as a Leftover Crack gig, though the majority of that rankness emanates from their lead singer Stza.

Do They Use All of Those Drums?

The first thing Liz noticed when she saw the stage was an enormous drum kit under a tarp towering over three additional, albeit smaller kits on the floor of the stage. This one I fully agree with, because you only ever heard the crash cymbal and the snare, so those drummers could have taken the entire night off for all we know.

These Guys Definitely Take Longer to get Ready Than I Do

Metalheads like to get themselves all done up and go dance with, and in competition with, one another. Not unlike a common show bird. “I guarantee all of these macho meatheads spent more time in front of the mirror today than I have all week,” proclaimed Liz, and she wasn’t wrong. Many metal dudes put a lot of time and effort into looking like they don’t give a shit, present Hard Times authors included.

If The Singer Has to Ask the Crowd to Mosh, is it Still Metal?

Every metal show experiences the sad, pitiful moment when a lead singer desperately tries to get the arms-folded-and-gently-nodding-along audience members to start bashing into each other. Liz noticed it immediately and was just as cringed out as she should have been. At least they didn’t announce some last-ditch Misfits cover to get the crowd going, thank God.

I’m Not Sure That Song Needed a THIRD Solo

Listen, metal. Let’s be real for a second. Are you listening? Because you have a soloing problem. Now I love to shred as much as anyone, but three solos in the same song is too damn many solos! The soloing was her least favorite part of the show, as she didn’t know what she was supposed to feel during the noodling. Now that I think about it, neither do I.

His Pants Are Tighter Than Mine!

Liz noticed that metal dudes either have super tight black jeans or baggy pants with a bunch of random pockets and squares and chains and stuff. I considered explaining to her the nuanced politics of metal pants, but in the end I decided it wasn’t worth it.

There Are Still Plenty of Small Shirts available at the Merch Table

Liz enjoyed most of the bands, so she stopped by the merch table during some of the free time created by a particularly quick trip to the women’s room. Most metal bands sell out of everything medium and up the first show, and then after that, it’s nothing but smalls and random weird shit. I asked her how she got so many of the sold-out designs, but once I saw a piece of masking tape with an ‘S’ scribbled onto it, I knew.

I Can’t Operate on That Boy, He’s My Son and Also I Am Not a Surgeon

I know that this is an emergency situation and we here at Sacred Heart Hospital are bound by the Hippocratic Oath to do everything we can to help those in need, but I simply cannot do this. Someone else needs to help that poor young car accident victim. I can’t operate on that boy, because…he is my son! Also, I am not a surgeon.

Truth be told, I shouldn’t have really operated on anyone tonight.

I just wandered in here after a costume party in which I got a little tipsy. You guys let me perform a number of surgeries and even a prostate exam since I have been here, and honestly I think ? I nailed them, but I can’t do that kid. Against the rules.

Just because I drank five sambuca and sodas while dressed as McDreamy from season three of Grey’s Anatomy, wandered out of my office party, walked into Sacred Heart Hospital in search of another sambuca, and into an operating room where a 70-year-old woman was prepped for a laparoscopy, flawlessly inserted a digital rigid endoscope, and had a surgical assistant close her up while the observation deck gave me a round of applause does not mean I can help this boy. He’s my son!

I’m aware it is probably unprofessional to have scrubbed up after the laparoscopy and assumed that a nurse would be bringing me a sambuca to freshen up, only to get called in for a gunshot wound and spend three intense hours telling a dying man that he had never given up on anything and dammit, he’s not going to give up now.

In many ways, I think this reflects more on Sacred Heart hospital than it does on me and my son, who I will not operate on under any circumstances, due to the professional ethics I swore to when I put on this McDreamy costume.

Listen, if you have like, a tonsillectomy that needs doing on a non-family member of mine or maybe some ouzo or even grappa, I’m perfectly willing to stick around, just someone needs to save that boy’s life, who again is my son.

Now how about that ouzo?

Embarrassing: Black Metal Band Unaware They Have Death Metal Name

OSLO, Norway — Members of the black metal band Flesheating Cadaver are reportedly entirely unaware that they have accidentally chosen a death metal name, vicariously embarrassed sources confirmed.

“I love the band. They are one of the most technically impressive black metal bands I’ve ever heard. But if I’m being honest, their name is straight-up humiliating for everyone. It’s like an emo band being called ‘The Beatdown Boys’ or something,” said Jovie Hardin, a diehard fan. “When I try to tell my black metal friends about them, I have to lead with so many caveats that it’s barely worth trying. You try explaining that Flesheating Cadaver really is a true Norwegian black metal band and not some shitty dudes from Tampa. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told, ‘go put on your cargo shorts, poser.’ God, couldn’t they have just picked a name that’s a Lord of the Rings reference or something vaguely antisemitic?”

Members of Flesheating Cadaver seem to be under the impression their name is not only appropriate for their genre, but universally beloved.

“I did come up with the name, and you’re right, I do get questions about it all the time,” said Simen Fraglelock, the band’s longtime bass player. “Questions like, how did you think of it? How come your name is so rad? Or sometimes, I even get more practical questions about it. Like, is the cadaver the one eating the flesh? Or is it more about other people eating the flesh of the cadaver? So I get it. It’s a complex and awesome name that you really need to mull over.”

Anders Shaffer, the band’s tour manager, is tired of explaining the name faux pas.

“We all know it. I just have to work around it at this point. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to apologize. And I don’t even blame these people. Can you imagine thinking you can just pick a name and steal from the rich and deep traditions of the death metal community when you have absolutely no association with the culture?” said Shaffer shaking his head. “Look, I’ve worked with plenty of black metal bands, but I’ve never seen one so culturally insensitive. Racist, sure. Like very, very racist. But so culturally unaware? Never.”

At press time, nu-metal fans on Twitter were clamoring for an apology after live photos surfaced of Flesheating Cadaver clearly wearing chain-adorned JNCO jeans.

Napalm Death Fan Takes “You Only Lasted 20 Seconds” as a Compliment

NEW YORK — Local Napalm Death fan Mark Dixon is reportedly feeling proud about the comment made by a woman after they engaged in nearly two dozen seconds of sexual intercourse, confirms sexually frustrated source.

“20 seconds is the grindcore gold standard, anything longer than that and you’re trying too hard,” said Dixon as he tried not to dose off. “For me sex should be like a great Napalm Death song. It’s straight to the point, no fooling around. It starts, I scream, we’re done. There is none of that foreplay bullshit, that’s just a waste of energy. The only thing I hate more than a guitar solo is clumsily playing around with someone else’s genitalia. Let’s just blast it out and call it a night.”

The woman, who chose to remain anonymous, recounted her experience with Dixon.

“Usually when this happens the guy always has an excuse about ‘how this never happens’ and ‘how it’s because I’m so gorgeous,’ and it’s really embarrassing for all around. But this guy just asked if it felt as good for me and sort of rolled over, it just seemed like he didn’t give a shit about making it remotely pleasurable,” the woman stated. “I sort of laughed and said ‘you only lasted 20 seconds’ and then he started going on and on about how some of the best songs ever written are right around that long. He still sends me playlists, I need to block him.”

Psychologist and professor Dr. Adam Schneider believe that an individual’s musical preferences can shape their experience and behavior in sexual encounters.

“It’s fascinating how people can have their personalities defined in a very significant way by a really specific style of alternative music that they are passionate about,” shares Dr. Schneider. “One of my patients had been complaining and opening up about the unusually long amount of time it was taking for him to reach sexual climax with his partner. We have been working for months now on this issue, analyzing and discussing his childhood memories and traumas, but what is finally improving his situation is the decrease in 45-minute-long instrumental post-rock songs he listens to in his daily life”

At press time, our source was seen sneaking Godspeed You! Black Emperor albums inside the record sleeves of grindcore bands in Dixon’s collection.

Lonely Man Unaware He is Currently Setting World Record for Onion Dip Consumption

FAIRFAX, Va. — Local sad sack Mark Curtis unknowingly surpassed the world record for consuming the most French onion dip in a single sitting yesterday, confirmed grossed-out sources.

“The thing about onion dip is that it’s not just good for plain chips you know? People don’t always realize that. I have a deal with the manager at Wegmans where he will sell me as much dip as I need once it’s past its ‘best by’ date. I always clean the place out when that happens,” said Curtis as he slowly approached 1,200 grams of dip. “I’ve dipped literally every snack I got spread out here into this dip and man this shit doesn’t miss. Sometimes my favorite part is just licking the container clean until my tongue gets raw from licking the plastic.”

Long-time friend Jamie Boyd says this is not the first time Curtis has reached miraculous levels of junk food consumption.

“The craziest thing about Mark is he thinks eating shit like this is normal,” said Boyd. “When he gets bored he just zones out and keeps chowing down. He ate two entire wedding cakes during one episode of ‘New Girl’ a few years back. His level of garbage consumption would hospitalize most people and probably make their hearts explode. I remember when Guinness tried to give him the record for most gummy candy eaten while scratching lottery tickets we just told them to please leave.”

A representative from Guinness was sent to peek through the windows to spy on Curtis to make sure all the dip eating was verifiable and within the rules.

“Last week I was watching a group of kids do the world’s biggest round of Double Dutch, now I’m stuck watching this guy eat enough onion dip to feed an entire country. It’s remarkable how I get to see some of the greatest athletes in the world do something that will never be seen again, then next week I’m looking at something so disgusting it should never be mentioned in public,” said Melinda Falls. “But Mr. Curtis transcends all categories. This is a man who lacks any sense of shame, guilt, or self-control and it’s really amazing what he’s able to achieve.”

At press time, Curtis was unknowingly setting his sights on a new world record as he loaded his cart with various frozen pizzas at his local Walmart.

Heartwarming: Woman Receives Apology Email From Childhood Friend She Didn’t Know Was Bullying Her

Who says friendship can’t last forever? 32-year-old Linda Carson hadn’t heard from her childhood friend, Anne Hills, in over 20 years when she received an email out of the blue. To her delight, then confusion, then humiliation, Hill apologized for years of mockery that Carson was completely unaware of. Faith in humanity: restored!

Hills began the email with a sincere apology and the assurance that she’s changed a lot since middle school when she posed as Carson’s crush over AOL messenger. She confessed that she’s always regretted convincing her to meet “Kyle” at a Baskin Robbins in the next town over. Both Hill’s incredible vulnerability and the memory of the long bus ride home that night brought tears to Carson’s eyes. All the feels!

Hill went on to apologize for “accidentally” dropping Carson’s inhaler in a porta potty, sending an anonymous email to the PTA warning them that Carson was patient zero of the lice outbreak, and paying Carson several hundred sarcastic compliments over the course of 2 years.

Hill ended her email asking if there was any way Carson could ever forgive her. Carson responded to Hill’s email thanking her for her heartfelt apology and asking if miniskirts over cargo shorts were ever actually in style or if that was a joke too. Hill did not respond.

How much better would the world be if we all had the strength and maturity to own up to our mistakes? Whether it’s Anne Hill growing out of her childish ways or Linda Carson never trusting another human being again, it’s important to remember that everyone is capable of change.

We Sat Down With Our Airbnb Hosts Because if They’re Gonna Leave Us a Review Like That They Better Say It to Our Faces

This past weekend we needed a place to crash for the night. We found “Entire Guesthouse in Bowling Green – Cozy & Clean in Kentucky” hosted by Gary and Gina and booked it for $48 a night plus a $34 service fee and a $54 cleaning fee. We’re frugal so we were determined to get our money’s worth.

We showed up around midnight, let ourselves in, and had a typical night. The next morning we left by 8 o’clock. Later that day, we got an email saying Gary and Gina had left us a scathing one star review. That’s why we went back and sat down with our Airbnb hosts to see if they’d say that shit to our faces.

The Hard Times: Hey motherfuckers! Bet you didn’t think we’d read that shit, huh? Get out here!
Gary and Gina: Get off our property!

Ohhhh big tough Airbnb hosts hiding behind their big tough Airbnb. You know what, now we’re glad we left you a lower decker.
We’re calling the cops.

Okay, so admittedly, we didn’t read the check-out instructions in full. But even if we did, if you’re gonna ask us to play maid before we leave, then what the fuck is the cleaning fee for? And frankly, it’s a little bold of you to assume we know how to turn on a washing machine.
This is your last chance, please leave.

As far as the toilet paper stuff, the closet was wide open. We thought we were supposed to help ourselves, like at any other public bathroom that leaves extra rolls unlocked for customers and guests to take.
Hello, 911?

Honestly, it’s fine. Whatever. Cowards.

Local Man Begins Month-Long Process of Listening to Cooler Music to Achieve Presentable Spotify Wrapped

FRAMINGHAM, Mass. — Local graphic designer Eddy Dignan adopted a grueling schedule of listening to songs and artists in order to game the Spotify Wrapped statistics to make it look like he prefers much “cooler” music, confirmed sources who helped him curate a playlist.

“Last year was an absolute embarrassment. My top band was Sum 41, my top song was ‘Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous’ by Good Charlotte, and my Audio Aura was ‘impotent divorcee.’ When I shared it everyone just laughed at me, my mom even blocked me on Instagram,” said Dignan while checking to make sure Militarie Gun’s “All Roads Lead to the Gun” played silently on repeat while he slept. “It’s not going to happen again this year. For the next four weeks I’m going to listen to at least six hours of Turnstile a day, I don’t even like the band, but everyone else in the world loves them so I figure it’s a safe bet. I have three of my old iPhones logged into my account playing Dinosaur Jr. and Jawbreaker songs just to make it look like I have a wide variety of musical tastes.”

Dignan’s roommate Tom Cappellini is supportive of the endeavor and has been helping out whenever he can.

“If people think my roommate is a dork that listens to terrible music, then they might think the same about me. I’m here for Eddy. If one of his phones dies, I’ll be there to plug it in. I’m constantly listening to ‘Axe to Grind’ so I can give him new music suggestions, and if any cool bands are playing in Boston I’ll go with him to snap a photo so he can post it,” said Cappellini. “At the end of the day Eddy is a good guy, it’s not his fault that he thinks the new Blink-182 song is their ‘best one yet.’ Some people are just born with bad ears for this stuff.”

Spotify executives are well aware that many users are trying to alter their listening patterns at the last minute to manipulate their Wrapped.

“Cowards. That’s the only word I have for them. If Lou Bega is your favorite artist then fucking live with it. Don’t sit around Googling ‘cool punk bands’ and pretending you listening to 600 hours of their music you little fucking twerp,” said Spotify Director Mona Sutphen. “If we see any suspicious activity on accounts then we will throw out the last four weeks of data and you will be stuck having to show everyone how much late-era Weezer you actually listen to. These people make me physically ill. I wouldn’t piss on them if they were on fire.”

At press time, Dignan was creating hundreds of fake Instagram accounts in order to increase engagement on nine photos that didn’t include his ex-girlfriend.

Opinion: It’s Kinda Fucked up That You Got a Restraining Order Just Because I Named My Chainsaw After You

You’ve really crossed the line this time. Consider my feelings officially hurt. A restraining order?!? Never in my life have I been so insulted.

All I did was name my sweet, sweet new 24” ECHO CS 590 chainsaw after you, and mail a cute postcard to you with each individual letter cut out from different magazines. If anything, you should be honored.

I only name my dearest implements after my favorite people in the world. So what if we “aren’t that close” or “haven’t technically ever met”? I knew from the moment I saw you get a McChicken at the McDonalds off the interstate that we had something special. The following hours watching you only confirmed this further.

Maybe it’s time for you to start learning some gratitude exercises. Do you keep a journal? I do, and it has changed my life. The only downside is that I get lightheaded after refilling the pen with my own blood repeatedly. Still, I believe it has made me a more mindful person and better active listener.

I’m not the one being unreasonable here. Did you ever think that it may be a bit narcissistic to assume that my chainsaw is named after you specifically? Just because it has the same exact name and social security number carved into the blade doesn’t mean everything is about you. There could be a million Marquees Keith Dawson III’s running around Slope County, North Dakota.

Do you know how much this is going to ruin my daily routine? Now that I can’t be within 100 yards of you, how am I going to dip my tongue in your oat milk while you sleep? How am I going to sniff the back of your driver’s seat’s headrest? My whole life is upended just because you think the world revolves around you.

I’m not even supposed to be sending you this letter. But I just can’t keep my feelings to myself. You are toxic. My therapist thinks you may be projecting your own messed up issues onto me. Story of my life.

How Can You Say White People Don’t Like Spices When I Literally Drink Pumpkin Spice Lattes All the Time?

Excuse me, did you just say white people don’t like spices? Well, how can that be the case when I’m on my third pumpkin spice latte today alone?

Golly gee. The nerve of some people to just assume I don’t like flavor based on the color of my skin. It’s time we move past this as a society.

I mean, yeah, I don’t like chili, parsley, wasabi, curry, oregano, cayenne pepper, rosemary, basil, nutmeg, ginger, thyme, marjoram, bay leaves, salsa, cumin, garlic, onion, sriracha, anything with the word “smokey” in it, as well as any food from the Eastern and Southern Hemispheres. Oh, and I also can’t handle any hot sauce whatsoever. Not even ketchup. But besides those few outliers, bring on the spices. More specifically, this delicious pumpkin-based one I got from Starbucks.

I’m not alone in this either. Believe it or not, I actually know a ton of white people who drink pumpkin spice lattes every single day of their lives. In fact, I don’t know any white people who don’t drink it constantly. Sometimes all I see are white people pouring it down their gullets.

Even the Starbucks baristas somehow already know I’m going to order a pumpkin spice latte the minute the calendar hits September 1st. It’s like they can tell how much I like spices based on my vibe.

On the other hand, I don’t know a single person of color who drinks pumpkin spice beverages. Coincidence? Honestly, I don’t really know any people of color off the top of my head. Maybe though?

And pumpkin spice isn’t the only spice I like either. Just the other day I made a delicious homemade soup with just a pinch of salt and pepper. See? Those are technically spices. Seriously, can’t get enough of the stuff.

So yeah, maybe it’s time to end this stereotype once and for all. Not only is it untrue, but it also makes white people look narrow-minded, which is clearly outrageous.

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