Where’s Mercury? It’s gotta be retrograde. The last twenty-four hours have been one craptastic thing after another.
It started when I was ready to do my first Holidailies post. That’s when I found WordPress gutted the dashboard and didn’t put all the buttons back. It wasn’t too terrible at first, almost like getting into someone else’s car and looking for the headlights and windshield wipers. You can still drive the thing.
Then Blane reminded me his cousin was coming to town. I’d forgotten about that and he’d forgotten about the concert tickets I had for the night. No big deal, Spanky could bring a friend. No ticket would be wasted.
Thing is, Spanky ended up having to stay home from school. Just a cold. But it kept getting worse and worse. By late afternoon Spanky said she wasn’t going. So I’m calling everyone I know at the last minute to see if they want these tickets.
Finally Spanky changes her mind and she calls a friend of hers who, turns out had been begging her dad to take her to this exact concert. Lucky kid.
This kid, she’s really nice, but she is freaking loud. She’s a theatre student, so, LOUD.
And she never stops talking. She talks over the irritating nav system lady’s voice and I miss a key turn. She’s smart enough to know what she does to people’s nerves and apologizes. Poor kid. Poor us. The thing that kept running through my mind was, I hope they have those concert speakers way up, I can’t wait to see this kid’s mouth move and not be able to hear her.
We saw Snow Patrol first, an Irish Indie band that never fail to make me feel melancholy. But what cracked me up about these guys was how they came out cussing up a storm and there was like, no reaction. This audience were, uh, let me just say, more the studious type, not the Metallica crowd. In fact, there was absolutely no pit.
So no body surfing. What I did notice was a ton of people texting. At a concert? Ah hell, I decided to get online too, check the blog. See, I left moderation off and I wanted to see if there was anything out of control over here.
Some way, some how, in all this new WordPress ruckus they managed to change my avatar to my creepy photo of me that I used for the halloween season. Great. I will scare off all the new people on day one. Thanks WordPress. (And many hours later, I am still unable to change back to my smiling-happy-welcome-here face.)
Between sets we went out to the lobby to see who was at the autograph signing table. No clue who these guys were, Carolina something or other, but the fan girls were worked into a frenzy. Two of them crawled under the rope and begged this guy to pose with them for a photo. He rolled his eyes but agreed. What was really pitiful about these “fangirls” was they appeared to be in their late thirties (the band dudes, early twenties).
And they kept giving this poor guy come hither eyes.
Death Cab for Cutie pulled of a great set and we were done for the night. Wait, time to go home and entertain the house guests.
Get in the car, “Empty.” (Blane I will kill you a thousand times for this)
The Nav lady spazing, “Lost satellite reception.”
Finally find a gas station and it’s freezing cold. So I’m sprinting to go pay for the gas and my keychain explodes. Keys all over the parking lot. Don’t ask me how that happened, I am still clueless, but there were little patches of oil for every single key.
So I’m running around the parking lot, dodging cars and picking up keys thinking, I am going to get run over and my legacy on the blog will be that stupid-ass halloween avatar.