For the third installment of reader-submitted articles, I give you this anonymous submission from an unfortunate guy. Hopefully his future experiences improve, but this was pretty hilarious. For information on how to submit a post to P&P, go here.  To read the others, go here.

My Worst Musical Experiences
By Anonymous

First, the obligatory “Thanks Confusion”. When Con threw out ideas he mentioned a bunch of positive suggestions like “How an album got you through a tough time” or “How a concert changed your life”. Hmm…that’s just not in my blood. You see, I am that guy that goes to a baseball game with the goal of catching a homerun and ends up getting knocked unconscious by a foul ball. I am that runner that trains for six months for a big race then, startled by the gunshot, trips over the starting blocks. I am Jon Arbuckle. I am Larry David.

Once, I was caught on film by my brother, by myself in my room, singing along to Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You”. When you’re a little kid, this is cute. When you’re a middle schooler still figuring out the ropes, it’s understandable. I was a 16 year old male. I can no longer listen to that song without a deeply seeded shamefulness coming over me.

Based on the Violent Femmes debut album, I adamantly predicted them to be the next Beatles.

I had the chance to see Sublime live before Bradley Nowell died. I bailed because I had a cold. My throat was sore.

My high school yearbook gave each student a paragraph to say whatever they wanted. People thanked their parents and friends. They inserted excerpts from meaningful literature and poetry. I quoted Phish. My high school picture is forever subtitled by “Your hands and feet are mangos, you’re gonna be a genius anyway.” I am still shunned at reunions.

In my first ever mosh pit I got elbowed in the face and got a bloody nose. This could have led into an epic story about how I was the cool guy in the mosh pit bleeding and raging at the same time. But the story doesn’t go like that. I cried. I left the mosh pit and I cried because I thought I had broken my nose. I had not broken my nose.

Eager to join the file sharing phenomenon, I was quick to download Napster and Limewire and indulge. Then my dad read an article about lawsuits surrounding these programs. He told me to stop. I did not stop. I was grounded and not allowed to use the family computer for two weeks.

Sometimes I still listen to that one LFO song.

Once, I was robbed in the parking lot of a Nas concert. The guys that robbed me didn’t even show me a weapon. They just came up to me near my car, surrounded me, and told me to give them my wallet. The only question I asked was if I could keep my driver’s license. They obliged. I think I actually thanked them. I know, I’m a pussy.

The only famous musician I’ve ever met is Bette Middler. Also, I know how to play “From A Distance” on the piano. Also, sometimes I sing it while I play.

Thanks for listening guys. Obviously, I want to remain completely anonymous, but it feels good to get all of this off my chest.