Notes From A Concert
Jeff and I saw a concert on Saturday night. It was Swell Season, the band that the movie Once featured. (If you haven’t seen it, you should.) Not so much our music genre, but they’re really good we can be edgy and all. You know, once a year.
My deep observations from the (rare) late evening out:
Being carded after having three children is an absolute joke. I was tempted just to flash my stretch marks to gain entry.
Opening acts are horribly depressing. Nobody really wants to hear them and they’re just killing time until the main act. The poor guy from last night was actually boo’d. It would have been really sad had he not looked like a serial killer.
Personal space rules clearly do not apply at standing room only concerts. That’s unfortunate to someone like me who greatly values personal space.
Quietly passing gas doesn’t help gain you any personal space, as you might hope. All it does is have your husband loudly remark, “Someone farted. Do you smell that?”
Standing up for two hours straight was a lot more enjoyable a decade ago.
The answer will most likely be no when you ask your 13 year old neighbor if she has been to the over-21 venue. If it’s a yes, you may want to reconsider having her watch your children.
Live music is fun and all, but nothing beats a Saturday night on the couch with my laptop.
I’m a total loser.
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