In case there's a single person out there who believes that that painful Renaissance-Fair-dialect review was actually written by "a proper Englishman," let me assure you, it wasn't.

It was, however, written by a half drunk, half crazy fan of The Game. This guy did nothing but piss me off all night and then try to buy me a drink. But rather than try to describe him, I'll let Chris speak for himself through a transcript of our conversations.(Note: it was three of our friends' birthdays that week so I brought cupcakes to the club)

Conversation 1: (immediately following our set)

CD: (eating a cupcake) Hey, great job up there. You got some pipes.
Me: Oh, thanks! I'm Lauren. What's your name?
CD: Chris. I'm reviewing the show tonight. You put me on the list.
Me: Oh, right. You talked to Steve about it, right?
CD: Who's Steve? The drummer guy?
Me: No, that's Oliver. Steve is the bassist. You talked to him about coming tonight, right?
CD: No.
Me: Um, okay. Well, thanks for coming out!
CD: (on second cupcake) So you guys are all into being like "garage rock" huh?
Me: I'm sorry, did you say "garage rock"?
CD: Yeah, you know, like you were wailing just be heard over the background. You're all into that California "garage" sound.
Me: Wow, I've never heard anyone call us a garage band before. We don't actually try to play that loud. Sometimes it's hard to hear the vocals, though, in such a small space.
CD: How come?
Me: Well, the rest of the music has to be heard over the drums, but the stage is so small you can't turn up the vocals too high without them feeding back.
CD: I couldn't understand you at all. Are your lyrics even any good?
Me: I'd like to think so. We work pretty hard on them.
CD: So how come you don't want people to hear them on stage?
Me: If you come see us at a bigger space, like Bottom of the Hill, or Du Nord, I guarantee you'll hear the lyrics better. You know where else you can really hear the lyrics is on the album.
CD: Why would I buy a CD when if I know the right people I can download it for free?
Me: Because you know, you want to supp--
CD: (on third cupcake) Yeah, yeah, support the band. Whatever.
Me: If you want to keep being able to see live music, it's probably a good idea. Bands have to pay for things like equipment, you know.
CD: Yeah, right. How much does a melodica really cost?
Me: About a hundred dollars for a student model.
CD: So let me ask you something, what kind of music do you guys play?
Me: Were you even listening?

Conversation 2: (following the Vows set)

CD: (on fifth cupcake and standing really close) Hey listen, don't worry about people giving you shit about the cupcakes.
Me: (backing up) What? Nobody's given me any shit about the cupcakes. The only thing people have said is "thank you."
CD: Yeah, you know, during your set. You bake all these?
Me: What the hell are you talking about? I didn't even mention them until the set was over. The only person giving me shit tonight is you.
CD: Yo, I talked to your bassist and he confirmed that you can hear the lyrics better at Du Nord.
Me: So?
CD: (on sixth cupcake) So I believe you.
Me: Great.
CD: Hey, I just don't know what to say to lady who sings like that. What are you drinking?
Me: Stella.

I let him buy the beer and put it on the table behind me, at which point I avoided it and him for the rest of the night. Steve tried to warn him not to mess with me anymore by explaining "she's from Brooklyn." "What does that mean?" he asked. "It means she'll cut you," replied Steve. I didn't have my knife with me but I came awfully close to pushing that jackass down the stairs.