Rock On, Politely

Hello all you lovely, wonderful people! (Unless you are the person who recently parked your giant SUV (with the spinning hubcaps) in such a way that it took up six parking spots in a parking lot that had a total of six spots, then you are scum. Talented scum, but scum.)

Anyways, I hope all of you have had  more fantastic weekend than the thought of a thousand neon painted guinea pigs tap dancing to "The Brandenburg Concerto."

My week was full of delusional people asking me to help them find jobs ("No, I'm sorry, but I don't find toads jobs."), random drivers who assumed the sidewalk, where I was walking, was actually a third lane and one random shirtless gentleman, who held aloft his mighty spoon and announced that, "Cowards will not prevail!"

So in less insane news, Life is a Circus Run by a Platypus has gotten another awesome review!

John Hartnett writes, "...Ms. Hawn's endearing personality shines through much of her work. Often self deprecating, she is not one to put herself up on a pedestal to look down at the rest of the world. In many of her pieces, she's right there clamoring and stumbling along with the rest of us and writing from that vantage point is where Ms.Hawn excels..." (Full review here.)

So this weekend I was here:

In case you can't read the banner behind the bedraggled looking singer, I saw Saliva in concert, which was awesome!

It was like going back to middle school (which is about when they popped up on the musical horizon for me), but without all the acne, awkward body changes and overall awfulness that middle school brought.

I am a concert junky. I have seen over 100 bands in concert, everyone from Heart, to M.C. Hammer to Megadeth to Weird Al Yankovic (three times on that one, actually).

There is something more than magical about a well done live performance. It's everything from the energy of the crowd, to feeling the beat of the music resonate on your spine and in your ribcage that gives one a moment in time where they can forget almost entirely about oneself and just immerse oneself in a world of music.

Now, out of the 100 or so concerts I have been to (I honestly stopped counting after my 80th one back in 10th grade), quite a few of them have been rock concerts.

As I stood, not terribly far from the stage this past Friday, I looked around and saw many brand new concert babies.

Concert babies are not hard to pick out. They are the ones who have so obviously never been to a rock concert that you can almost smell fresh meat and innocence in an aura around them.

There were so many of them at this concert that I barely could take a step without trampling on one of their ill-advised, flip-flop clad feet. As it appears that we have yet another generation of rockers joining the ranks, I have decided that it might be time to post the unspoken rules of rock concerts; "Mosh-pit Etiquette" if you will.

So for those new to concerts, or those long time veterans who have somehow managed to miss the memo, here's a few things to keep in mind.

1. Wear appropriate clothing. Rock concerts are not places for your finest evening gown, a great place to wear just a bikini top or anything else that can be easily ruined or ripped off. One thing that I would like to specifically iterate; if you are going to be down on the floor anywhere near where a mosh-pit could break out (so anywhere on the floor, really) wear actual shoes. Not flip-flops, not heels, not loafers, SHOES!

Why? Because there are going to be at least 5 or 6 guys per concert who are built like this:

Do you want that landing on your unprotected feet? No? Then wear actual shoes.

2. You will get sweaty. Not all of the sweat will be your own. Come to peace with this fact and deal with it. You can shower later.

3. For those well-seasoned concert goers (and I'm not talking about concert goers covered in thyme and a thick marinade), watch out for the little ones. You were 13, wide-eyed and dumber than a brick once upon a time too. Yes, they are annoying, but as more experienced concert goers, it does fall to us to make sure that these little ones survive this concert to have their eardrums blasted again another day.

4. In the mosh-pit, if someone falls pick them up! Yes, if you jump into a mosh-pit you can pretty much assume that some form of bodily harm is coming your way. However, smashing someone's face into the floor just because they can't get up in time is not part of the deal. Don't be a twit, just help them up.

5. That being said, if you decide to foray into a mosh-pit, no whining due to your bruises, scratches and/or giant footprints left in your stomach later. You cannot poke a velociraptor with a stick, then whine when it rips your arm off.

6. Never drag someone into a mosh-pit or throw them up to be crowd surfed if they don't want to! I cannot count the amount of absolutely terrified faces I have seen in, and subsequently had to drag out of, mosh-pits. Seriously, if your friend says they don't want to go, save others the trouble of having to "save" your completely unprepared companion from your need to be a jerk. Let your friend enjoy the music and the experience.

7. Don't try to smoke a bowl in the middle of a concert. Guess what, the bouncers are all super tall, and can see when you light up. Plus, good luck trying to deny that it was you who who caused the entire area to smell skunked when you look like this:

That, and I really don't need to be lit on fire again when someone bumps into you as you're trying to smoke in the center of a quickly moving crowd.

8. Rock concerts are not for people who are claustrophobic or who don't like being touched. You will touch lots and lots of people and they will be touching you. Some of it is unintentional, some of it is intentional. If it's intentional and inappropriate, elbow them in the ribs "accidentally" and move on.

9. It's not going to be fun if you don't jump in. Give it some energy. If your calves aren't sore from jumping up and down the next morning and you don't sound like you've been smoking for 70 years because you yelled so much last night, then something is very wrong. If you don't buy into the energy coursing through the room, then you aren't getting the full experience. If it helps, think of it as a form of exercise (because I promise it is one of the best cardio workouts of your life).

It's not hard to both have an awesome time at a concert and not be a complete twit too. Just keep in mind these little understood guidelines that basically break down to the same Golden Rule; Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, and maybe that giant, tattooed behemoth to your left won't decide to use you as a toothpick.

Did I miss anything important to add to that list? If so, let me know!

As always feel free to follow my raucous exploits on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads. 

Thou Shalt Not Sweat on Me!

Hello all you lovely, splendid people! Just a quick update, it appears that “Life is a Circus Run 

by a Platypus,” is on track to be released on May 20 on Amazon.com (followed closely by 

several other venues)! As soon as I have an official link I will post it here faster than a 

greased bunny can be slid across a linoleum floor!

In other news, I have an author Facebook page set up now. Feel free to look me up under 

"Allison Hawn" and keep up to date on news about the book. 

That aside, here is another scribbling from my “Ooooh Squirrel!” brain.

I am a bit of a gym rat, mostly by necessity. I have a genetic make-up that means that if I 

even stare longingly at a piece of cheesecake for too long, I will suddenly pack on some 

extra curves. For this reason, I spend, at the very least, an hour in the gym every day. 

This means over a several year span I have gotten to witness some of the most bizarre/useless 

behavior ever perpetrated around a set of weights. Frankly I'd be willing to leave most of these 

things alone, but when you see them day after day, sometimes you just feel compelled to 

smack certain individuals with a starfish. 

Since I do not have easy access to a starfish and would probably be arrested for assault with 

deadly brainless sea creature, I will instead just write some of the things I have noticed here.  

These are my 10 Gym Commandments. If I could etch them in stone I would (but I learned I 

really should not be given a chisel and a hammer a long time ago).  

Note: I am not a doctor, personal trainer or coordinated tango instructor. I am currently a fitness 

instructor, though, if that counts for anything? As always you should talk to your doctor, 

significant other, best friend, Oprah and a therapist before starting any new exercise plan.  

1. Thou shalt not believe that sitting on gym equipment will magically slim thee. 

I realize that this is a disappointment to many (including myself). The gym has an aura of 

fitness and health to it; however, to contribute and partake in the aura one actually does have to 

move. 

This means that if someone sits on the cable row machine for 20 minutes and does only one 

five-pound repetition, that person is not in fact working out. What that individual is doing 

instead is blocking everyone else in the gym from using the thing that he or she has converted 

into the gym version of a home recliner. The gym, sadly, is not magic.  

2. Thou must not only move, thou must sweat, push and exert thyself. 

Just because one is sitting and bouncing on a yoga ball does not mean one is working out. 

Sadly, I see a lot of females do this.  Doing crunches, dumbbell presses and weighted mermaids 

on a yoga ball are all legitimate exercises. Having a conversation about your nails while doing 

the same movement a 3 year old does in their bouncy chair is not getting you anywhere, 

cupcake.  

3. Thou shalt NEVER mock others in the gym based on their physical appearance.  

Yes, some of us are twigs, some of us are bulky, some of us are, dare I say this word, fat. It 

doesn't matter; everyone has a place in the gym. The fact is that no other person can ever know 

what someone else is capable of, and so verbally disparaging them is just plain dumb. 

I have seen tiny guys do sets of 30 weighted pull-ups, seen full-figured women run faster 

than I could ever imagine going, and I have seen a 300 pound man sustain yoga poses that 

make my limbs hurt just thinking about them. Don't judge, everyone has the right to 

work out just as much as everyone else does.  

4. Thou shalt not believe the weight area is only for males. 

More times than I can count at this point, I have had some hot-shot guy swagger up to me 

while I'm lifting and make some comment about how, "Women should not be in the weight 

area." 

I have no problem then, in front of each one of his friends and girlfriends, lifting twice as 

much as he does, turning and saying, "You're right, we should not be in the weight area, 

we might make you look bad." 

Women are tough, period.  

5. Thou shalt not be self-defeating at the gym. 

I bring up this example because, to my count, I have now seen it five times. I see a person 

on a treadmill (good), going at the slowest possible pace the machine can go (not as good), 

drinking a soda (*thunks head on desk* bad). 

If one consumes more calories while working out than one actually burns, then what purpose 

did going to the gym serve? 

These are the same people who talk on their cellphones, at decibels that could be felt in 

space, about how they are working out, but they never seem to lose any weight. Really, 

Sherlock, weight loss is being elusive?  Come on, let's examine the clues and maybe we can 

solve this mystery.  

6. Thou shalt be conscious of other gym patrons. 

This means one should not pick up weights and then just stand in front of the weight rack 

doing bicep curls. Believe it or not, other people would like to weight lift too, and standing 

there like one of the giant stone pillars of Stonehenge, creates a bit of a deterrent. 

This also means that one should not take eight sets of weights and claim that one is using them 

all.  The only one who can make that claim is an octopus. I realize that some people have things 

like ladder drills or circuits that they want to do and that is fine. But one really does not need to 

monopolize half the weight rack to accomplish one’s goal, I promise.  

7. Thou shalt put it back where thou found it. 

As much as I love scavenger hunts, spending 10 minutes hunting for the 40 pound dumbbells 

only to discover that someone has kindly hidden them behind the foam rollers is somewhat less 

charming than the childhood counterpart of that game. The gym staff are not mothers or 

magical weight fairies; everyone needs to pick up after himself or herself.  

8. Thou shalt wear clothing to the gym. 

I cannot describe the endless parade of things that I see at the gym that make me wonder, 

"Did your mommy forget to lay out your clothes for you this morning?" 

Sweatpants with holes in the crotch (sometimes with underwear underneath, sometimes 

without), shirts that have the sides cut out (so we can see the side of one's abs, as what is left 

of the shirt precariously slips towards getting caught in the machine), shorts that one has to 

stare at for a minute so one can verify they are not a belt and spandex that has been stretched 

so tight that it now has all the coverage ability of tinted saran wrap should probably only be 

worn in the privacy of one's own home. 

9. Thou shalt not hit on other gym patrons with dogged persistence. 

No, you can't buy me a drink. Why? Because this is a gym, not a bar, and I am working 

out, and this is not a date. 

It's fine to flirt, say hi or strike up a conversation with someone at the gym. However, I 

once had a guy sit and stare at me for 20 minutes on the rowing machine before asking 

if I, "Wanted to go out to see the back of his truck." 

Nope! Everyone, guys and girls, can agree, we like our gyms creeper free.  

10. Thou shalt not believe thou's sweat is magical. 

This means that if one leaves a giant puddle of sweat on the machine one just used, 

and then one decides not to use the handy-dandy free paper towels and sanitizer to wipe 

it up, I will look at that individual like she or he just barbequed a puppy. 

Do you want to sit in a puddle of a random stranger's sweat? No? Then why on the 

earth would anyone want to wade through a puddle of yours? No one’s sweat is exempt 

from the grossness factor, wipe it up! 

All that being said, what are the most ridiculous things all of you have seen at the gym?

Silver Linings and Hand Sanitizer

This past week I was kissed by the least competent cross-dresser I have ever seen.

I work with homeless youth for a living, and as such, often go to random places where free meals are being held so that I can say things like, “No, really, you do have court today. I don’t care that it’s National Waffle Day, that does not exempt you from showing up.”

I was at one of the early morning breakfast feeding spots for the homeless, when a stubble clad chin with enough make-up to stop a nuclear warhead sauntered up to me unsteadily in a pair of heels that may have been too "out there" for the 1980's.

"Good morning, darling!" the voice boomed from far above my head as a long mane of greasy hair was tossed over a shoulder and jingly accessories danced in a way that would give most small animals a seizure.

I made a small finger wave as I attempted to figure out something to say aside from, "Good heavens! Your eyeliner, it's gone rogue, it's trying to take over your face! Run for your life!"

Then suddenly he swooped down like a hawk going after a legless shrew. I had just enough time to turn my head before he planted a giant sloppy kiss on the side of my head.

Ilsa, an outreach worker from another agency who works primarily with the adult population, reached over smacked him and said, "No! Let her go! What have I told you, we don't kiss people we've just met!"

He let go, and unsteadily sauntered off, winking at me and nearly face-planting into a table. A few minutes later, when I was using enough hand sanitizer on the side of my face to effectively disinfect a beluga whale, the main thought in my head was, "Well, the day can only improve from here."

I find it a little sad that that was my first and only thought. Not, "Holy crap what just happened!?" or "Did I accidentally take some LSD somewhere back there?"

No, my only thought was basically that with the bar set so low for my Wednesday, things could only improve.

I'm not entirely sure what this says about my life. I definitely have a habit of wandering into bizarre situations. Maybe it is kind of like how people who were raised on farms have become desensitized to the smells that make the rest of the civilized world want to yack, I think I have become desensitized to surreal, off the wall, crap happening to me.

I mean, I realize it is not in a person's normal day to watch dancing tweakers, or be delayed getting to work by dancing clowns or be told that they have "lovely lumberjack calves"(I’m still not sure if I want to take that one as a compliment or insult yet).

However, it really doesn't hit me how strange some of this stuff is until I tell someone else about it and they look at me like I've suddenly sprouted antenna and told them that my name is Gozer the Destroyer.

In any case, I wouldn't trade my myriad of crazy situations for the world. Then again, I do sometimes wish they wouldn't slobber as much.