Van Halen’s Mascot is a House Sheep

At this point, if you’ve been with me for awhile, it’s probably no secret that I married a bit of a rock star. If you’re just joining the readership (which has grown exponentially in the past few days — THANK YOU!!!), then I’ll fill you in here and here.

Either way, the story I’m about to tell is wild.

After the fateful night at Bogey’s Pub (referenced above), Steve started attending band practices, with his co-worker/David Lee Roth counterpart, on Sunday afternoons. Because, as we all know, the Sabbath day was created to be kept holy and wholly rockin’.
He would usually leave the house around 3 and come back in time for dinner and relaxing with me before the busy work week started again. But two days ago, everything changed.

David Lee Roth threw BBQ ribs into the mix, inviting me to come along, to eat and be groupies with his girlfriend. I was so in.

We headed out around 6. I’d never been to David Lee Roth’s house before, but by the time we got there, I was truly lost. Langley City is crammed with houses, townhouses, apartments and the like, but outside of it, there’s just acreage after acreage with ranchers and mansions and grids of endless streets. If there is such a thing as the “middle of nowhere” in the city, this was it.

DL Roth lives on a farm with a fancy gate, and since he wasn’t home yet by the time we got there, we waited outside for awhile. This is where the legendary Keith Urban/Miranda Lambert/Don Henley/Anastasia soundtrack mash-up would come to be born.

Finally, everyone showed up and we were let inside the gate. My jaw dropped. There was a pond with ducks on it, while goats and sheep roamed freely in the yard. It was such a call-back to my childhood that I experienced rosy-eyed nostalgia for a brief moment.

And then I entered the house.

Soon, it became clear that I was in a den of porn and horror.


Only a BB gun, I realize now, but it was HEAVY and had a SCOPE. We could still be murdered with it.



The real David Lee Roth being sexual in the corner.


Nice Victorian portrait, right?


Tilt your head to the right and think again.

Of course, I don’t have pictures of the actual porn, but let’s just say that the phrase “graduating magna cum laude” is a punchline I don’t ever want to see again…

So yeah. This is where my husband goes on Sunday afternoons. Not weird at all.


60% hardcore, 30% terrified, 10% I don’t even know.

Here’s the thing though: once I realized that I wasn’t going to die here, these people were really interesting, and I wouldn’t hesitate to hang out with them again. They’ve all taken way too many substances, but they have stories. In many cases, it was that they survived to tell the tale.

Like the bass player who was in Hyder, Alaska in 1991 (where my mom is hiding out from the Apocalypse, ya’ll) for his 23rd birthday, got drunk, stole a horse, got bucked off, and then had someone stop by in a truck and say, “If that was my horse, I’d shoot YOU too!” before peeling out.

Or David Lee Roth’s girlfriend, whose son died in a car accident 9 years ago, and she still feels like it happened yesterday.

Or David Lee Roth himself, being told “Hey man, love your voice!” by Gene Simmons, or doing a floor-laying job on Hastings Street in downtown Vancouver and having the floor cave in beneath him to reveal two skeletons. Not bodies, skeletons. And it’s still not known how they got there.

Steve and I laughed, gave each other weird looks, and ate an ungodly amount of BBQ ribs at 10pm like teenagers.


Shit shit shit. Mushrooms on my blog, mushrooms on my blog. Must…cleanse…


And, of course, there was rock and roll.



The only porn I need.

But WAIT. I am saving the best part for last.

After we ate the ribs and jammed and packed up the gear, I met someone.


This…is Eve.

Eve is the house sheep.

I repeat: The Van Halen Porn Farm has a HOUSE SHEEP.


She eats, in the house.


She makes Steve feel uncomfortable, in the house.


She baa’s majestically during selfies because she is precious and perfect, in the house.

So basically, from now on, my Sunday afternoons are booked. No shame in my Sabbath game, friends!

What’s the weirdest house you’ve ever been in? If you could have any house creature, what would it be? Did I write the word “porn” too much today?


The Only Girl at the Bachelor Party, part II

So where was I?

Oh yes. Not even a little bit prepared. (Neither are you, btw.)

Rehearsal ended, we packed up everything, the guys continued on to their bachelor party dinner thingy, Steve and I attended a brief BBQ, and by 8:30pm, we were on our way to Richmond.

I think this is where I should mention that NONE of us have ever been to the Richmond Night Market. In my head, I’m thinking it’s like a market…where you can buy stuff…and it’s only open at night…


Friends, let’s imagine this area of Richmond like a sandwich, shall we? One slice of your bread is the Sky Train, and the other slice is the River Rock Casino. Your filling in between the bread? Bright lights, about a million Asian people (not being racist, it’s just a fact) and for every 2 people, there is a booth/vendor that wants to sell you a Hello Kitty backpack or a Deep Fried Mars Bar.

Uhh, hell yes, I made this very important purchase!

So. We take the plunge into this boiling cauldron of delights, knowing that we are the band, we need to get in to set up by 9:30pm, we need to find our “agent”, Dominic,

We drive in. Tell the security that we are important. Cool, fine. We keep driving. We reach the stage. We get out. We are approached.

“Where have you been? You’re supposed to go on at 9 o’clock!”

Uh. Hold the phone. Sir, that is incorrect. We are the Weezer cover band, here for 10:30. Are you Dominic?

“10:30? That can’t be right. And no, I’m not Dominic.”

Where is Dominic?

“What are you talking about? No one named Dominic works here, now let’s get you unloaded, people are waiting!”

Friends, this is where we learned that there are TWO Richmond Night Markets. The one we were at was expecting another band that failed to show up by 9. The one we’d actually booked with was way smaller and there was no way we were gonna be able to locate it in time to perform by 10:30.

So we said, “Sorry, Dominic!” and started unloading.

Everyone say, “Aww, poor Dominic.”

Now a buzz has filled the air. This band is so pumped, you guys. You have no idea. “Holy crap, what just happened, we’re playing at the wrong venue but it’s even bigger, our groom is going to lose his shit, heck I’M going to lose my shit” was the general consensus all around.

I am feeling so prepared. I have my phone for pictures/video, I have Steve’s phone for pictures/video, I….

I need a bathroom.

I politely ask not-Dominic where I might find one. He gives me long, complicated directions on how to get to a place that sounds really far away.

“Or,” he finishes, “There’s always backstage.”

Oh, thank Goodness!

I look backstage. No bathroom. I look again, cause sometimes I’m dumb and again, no bathroom. I ask Steve, “Have you seen a bathroom back here?” He hasn’t. We both go up to not-Dominic and ask again. He laughs. “Oh, you believed me? I actually meant the bushes!”

Steve: “Oh, well that’s okay, she grew up in the woods, she’s used to it.”

Well, it’s kinda true.

So I tromp into the darkness. Literally. I am very happy that the distant city lights reflected on the NEAR BY RIVER or else I might not be telling this story.

I find my secluded little spot, get ready to do my business, and —


I am now in the dark, peeing by a river, and trying not to scream while pulling thorn branches out of my derriere.


When I returned, I discovered that a couple of things had happened.

The groom had arrived. Our young, fresh-faced, innocent groom had arrived.

He was wearing a white T-shirt that had full tattoo arm sleeves attached to them.


He looked kinda like this.

*not an entirely accurate representation

All right! Groom’s here! Instruments are tuned! My cameras are ready! Let’s get this party — what the crap, there’s a red Teletubby on the stage. With a ukulele.Image

And probably already a thousand hits on YouTube.


And Instagram.

I don’t know where he came from, I don’t know what he was doing or why he was being a Teletubby, but I was totally okay with all of it. (Rumour has it he is one of the groom’s brothers…)

Concert begins, and it, of course, rocks. Thank God Asian people listen to Weezer or else it might have been a tough crowd. You know that phrase, “I’m Big in Japan” ? Well, now I know where it comes from. Marky & the Panthers are gonna be the next Asian sensation.

ImageSorry about your legs and hunchback, J. Panorama shots are no one’s friend.



Steve’s guitar solo was so awesome, he almost fell over.


Right about here was where I ran out of battery and room on BOTH phones. No more documenting.

Right about here was where the concert ended, and the band was doing one of those extended endings of a song, you know what I mean? Like, drums are crashing, strings are noodling, keys are smashing, all on the same chord just waiting for the resolution of going out with a bang!

The whole time this was occurring, Po the Teletubby was pumping his ukulele up and down high above his head – I assumed this was his participation because he couldn’t actually play it due to having abnormally large red-pad hands.

But no. He was psyching himself UP for what was coming next. He lifted the uke by the neck, lifted it, lifted it…and on the drum’s last bang, Po brought that ukulele down onto the stage with such force that people in the crowd were screaming and grabbing bits of the Po-lele to take home and scrapbook. I mean, it was smashed.

My first reaction was to scream like the crowd, “YAAAAAHHHHH WOOOOOO!!!!”

And then I cried a little on the inside, because dead ukulele.

And then I screamed some more because it was awesome and why did I not have a video of it?

After we packed everything up, not-Dominic asked us to come back anytime. We were, apparently, a hit!

To finish the night, we wandered through the booths a little and partook of the many things you may regret in the morning. Steve and I were home by 1:30am, knowing full well that we had to get up early to set up even more instruments and play even more music at church the next day.

So worth it.


Now it’s time for your Weekend(s) Update! with…

….NOT Seth Myers! Soh-ry.

I may not have a Drunk Uncle or a Stefano waiting in the wings to keep the laughs going, but I do have some pretty awesome stories to share with ya’ll.

We at the Button residence have had not one, not two, but THREE epic weekends in a row. And it’s not over yet. But that’s another story.

May 11/Mother’s Day – Weekend #1

Did you know that sometimes I get overly ambitious with a single idea in my head, that I MUST see it through until something dies or explodes? It all started with an innocent little grocery shopping trip to Wal-Mart – sometimes, that’s all it takes.
I had managed to go through the whole store without wanting or buying anything for myself, but when we got to the check-out line, I found it waiting for me. A Wal-Mart Special Cupcake Recipe Magazine, for $6.00. Six bucks! For such crisp pages and pictures of Strawberry Blossom Cupcakes I coud practically taste! In that moment, I decided that I was going to become a cupcake-maker extraordinaire TODAY. Because fast approaching was my friend M’s birthday party in Vancouver AND my first Mother’s Day with a mother-in-law who deserves treats! Time was of the essence!
Except for a few key elements: my dear M not only likes to live a vegan/vegetarian lifestyle by choice, but she needs gluten-free, egg-free, dairy-free food by necessity. After some communications with her fiancee about possible baking replacements, I was more determined than ever to make sure that she got at least ONE real cupcake on her birthday.

This is when I learned that Langley grocery shops are really dumb.

After hunting all day for the elusive egg replacer (no, Safeway, NOT egg substitute, which still features egg white as a main ingredient!), I finally decided to just use almond milk and suffer the humiliation of really flat cupcakes.

Oh, did I forget to mention that M really, really REALLY loves Hello Kitty? And did I also forget to mention that I decided to take 12 cupcakes and make them into a Hello Kitty face?
So with a help of a Betty Crocker gluten-free vanilla cupcake mix, almond milk, a little food colouring, some ziploc bags and my indomitable sister-in-law, this is what M got:


Yeah. Saw it so clearly in my head and yet the execution is not stellar. Good word, execution.

But because M is adorable and lovely and sees a treasure in just about anything, she chose to not be frightened by this display of Kitty-ness, instead celebrating that she briefly had another member in her Hello Kitty figure collection before nomming them all up.



And the attempt at making the Strawberry Blossoms for Mum mostly rested on my sister, so they were lovely and fine. They too were all nommed up while we sat on the couch, feeling like we should be sobbing into our napkins watching Safe Haven but weren’t.

May 17-20th, Road Trip + Wedding + Exhaustion All Around, Weekend #2

Actually, let me back up. This epic weekend began on a Thursday, with a trip to the Yoo-Ess-of-Aye! Let me back up even further.

Two of my dear friends are getting married in Smithers at the end of June. The bride’s family (and one of my dear adopted families) is originally from the States as I am.
As we all know, Canada is the best. But when it comes to food options and financial availability, I have to say the US wins. So when the Bride’s mother asked us to go on a Special Mission to locate and secure 2 cases of Gardetto’s (a very tasty mix of chips and pretzels) that can only be acquired over the border, we suited up and said, “Yes, ma’am!” Since we were getting ready to go to another wedding in Prince George on the 18th, and since the Gardetto-needing Bride and her Mother were going to be in PG on the same weekend, we decided that the only day we could complete this mission was Thursday, in order to make the drop. (Yes, we take our self-appointed name of Agent Button very seriously around here.)

In four hours, we were in and out. It’s a good thing; if we had stayed any longer, I probably would have tried to make a Super Swamp Water Drink with the touch-screen display pop dispenser and let myself eat more than just a sample of that heaven-on-earth known as Cinnabon. Almighty Land of Everything that is Cheap and Ultimately Not Good for You, I wish I could quit you.

Fast-forward: the road trip itself was pretty normal; we were accompanied by our pretty cool friend Eric, who actually kind of forced me to play Zelda: The Ocarina of Time on the DS for the first time. Ever. As in, I had no idea what I was doing, and those skeletons that tried to rape me multiple times in the family tomb will scar me until the day I die.

Honestly, this weekend was such a blur. A great, big, wonderful blur. We saw two awesome friends commit to one another for life…visited like 30 friends we hadn’t seen in 8 months…ate and drank non-stop as a result…caught the new Star Trek (MOAR BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH AND ZACHARY QUINTO PLS)…and just generally became zombies by the time we had to drive back on Monday. It was awesome. Thanks for still being home, PG. ❤

May 25th, Where I Was the Only Girl at a Bachelor Party, Weekend #3

You know, when I started this blog like an hour ago, this is the weekend I wanted to talk about because it JUST happened. Everything else kind of evolved from that. If you’re still with me, thanks for staying. It’s almost over, and the most epic is yet to come. (Let the length of this blog remind me that I need to write more frequently!)

Okay. So. Where do I begin?

A couple of weeks ago, some guys from our church asked Steve if he would be willing to join their cover band as part of a surprise bachelor party. As I’ve written here before, Steve is quite the guitarist and people are starting to figure it out. Thank you, people.

Anyways, Steve said yes, and he started learning at least 10 songs by Weezer. Now, I know of Weezer, have maybe listened to two of his songs on the radio – but now I know more about him than I ever have in my entire life. He’s not half bad!

As time passed, I learned more of what this cover band entailed: these guys wanted to learn the songs in secret, have the groom show up on his bachelor party day to do a “Weezer Jam”, have a great time, send him on his way – and then the REAL surprise was that they booked a gig spot at the Richmond Night Market at 10:30pm, to do an hour-set of Weezer covers featuring the groom as the lead guitarist and vocalist. (Apparently Weezer has two guitarists, hence why they needed Steve to help.) The groom would learn of “his concert” maybe 10 minutes before he was supposed to go on. How awesome and freaky is that?!

Saturday arrived. Steve and I borrowed the work van from Dad to load up all the instruments for the rehearsal in the afternoon, plus taking it out to the Night Market later that evening.



Roadies have a very intense job. New appreciation for respect and roadies, here.

Rehearsal time! After I helped set up, I ducked out to sit in the van until it was over. I was tired and figured I would hear all the good stuff later.
Half an hour went by, and Steve found me. “You should come back and listen, we’re going through it again!”

So there I was, rocking out and enjoying the fact that, soon, my ears would no longer be able to hear anything else ever again. However, things quickly got…interesting.

I was there, they were playing Weezer, everyone was wearing clothing.

I went to the bathroom.

I came back, they were playing a rock version of “Bootylicious” by Beyonce, the bass player was shirtless, and he was definitely giving Queen B a run for her money in the dance moves department.

At this point, I realized: I am only the girl at a bachelor party, and it’s only 5 in the afternoon. What else am I in for?

I was not even a little bit prepared.

To be continued….