2001-11-27 � Barenakedness

Oh, Diaryland. I have so much to tell you. I hope I don't forget any of it. Let's see...

After work today I went to Delaware to see Tom. It's a little unusual for the weekday date, but he scored concert tickets for our anniversary and well, it was a weekday concert.

We went to this coffee shop to get coffee, naturally enough, and the coffee shop was next door to a restaurant called "Italian Bistro" only some of the letters on the sign were burned out so it said, "Italian Bi." I really wanted to go in and ask for the menu, but Tom said we didn't have time for both the comedy and the coffee so I chose the monkey on my back.

If we had gone in, I'd expect to run into the only bi I know. I'd see her flowing golden locks and say to her, "Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" and she would say "I know. I'm in the closet" and I would say "I should say so. How long have you been..." and she would finish my question "Italian? I suppose I've known I'm Italian since for always." Of course, that's just an imaginary conversation. I don't really know what would happen. I expect they have a teenybopper hostess who would just roll her eyes at me when I try to order a bi. Then she would smack her gum and complain about all the fags trying to buy bis.

Next the concert itself. The opening band was something unpronounceable. They rocked the house Lillith style. By that I mean the lyrics complained about men and she didn�t sing so much as weep or scream. It was hard to clap for her, because most of us aren�t so bitter. We did anyway, out of a sense of obligation. Then she left the stage, her armpit hair exposed as she raised a fist in triumph.

Then the headliners, The Barenaked Ladies came out. They were wondrous. It's the only mainstream pop concert I've ever been to where the band left the stage and allowed the bass player to do a solo number. On an upright version. With a bow. Also Steve kicked a lot and they rapped a Cher song. Also there was a non-band member guy dressed like a chef who had a tambourine. There is more I could say about the music, but the best show was not on stage.

We had seats in the Guiding Light section. We did not request them, they just happened to us.

Storyline 1: Criminal Intent
It seems one of the rent-a-cops on a power trip believed the forty-five year old woman behind me was shining a laser pointer at the stage. It was, for my money, a brilliant deduction as it is usually menopausal women who pull such pranks at concerts.

These suspicions lead to a great deal of shoving me out of the way so he could lean in to her and attempt to yell "LASER! GIVE ME YOUR GODDAMN LASER!" over the music. It mostly irritated me and she never caught on to what he was saying. So he gave up I guess. Every time the laser reappeared on a band member�s forehead, the rent-a-cop returned to hassle the Laura Ashley model behind us. There was more shoving and blustering and threats. She danced blissfully unaware of these threats and mildly put out that the rent-a-cop blocked her view.

Storyline 2: Jilted
About three rows behind us and to our left there was a very severe looking woman with eye bags and split ends who was attending the concert with a younger female, perhaps a daughter or niece. She noticed the very nice looking, happy man who was sitting in the seat directly in front of us. The man had his arm around a very attractive, happy woman and they were snuggly and kissy.

The severe woman gave him the stink eye for quite a while, and when it seemed that she was unable to attract his attention by staring at his bald spot she came down and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, and made eye contact with her. She glared. He cowered. She gestured they should go to the lobby. He complied reluctantly.

In a short while, he returned, seemingly none the worse, and resumed cuddly behavior with the pretty girl. For the duration of the concert the severe woman gave him the stink eye. I was in the path of the stink eye, so occasionally she would tap me on the shoulder and ask me to dance back over to my right. I complied, naturally. She was, after all, severe.

Storyline 3: Like It�s a Total Tragedy
To Tom�s right were a couple of girls. They had a third friend in the audience. From time to time the third friend, let�s call her Bridgett, would come and have a conversation over Tom and I. The conversation went like this. �He�s totally here. I saw him and I was like, �hi� and he was all �hey.�� Then all three girls would jump a bit and their unrestrained bosoms would bounce under their halters.

Well, after a few attempts to get his attention it seems Bridgett caught him kissing another girl. �He was kissing her. Totally on the mouth and with his tongue. I saw his Adam�s apple move.�

Then the girls on the other side said, �The music is too loud, we can�t hear you.� So Bridgett did a pantomime. To be fair, the pantomime communicated so much more than her words. For example, I know the boy she was talking about is short and the girl he was kissing is fat. I also know he kisses in much the same way a dog drinks beer from a bowl. Long, enthusiastic, and noisy laps. This seems to me to be an altogether unpleasant kiss and as such, perhaps Bridgett was better off without him. But she had a different view on the matter. So did her friends.

They comforted her across us. �He�s a total dog. I�m gonna march up to him and tell him that. I�ll say, �you totally hurt Bridgett and you�re a total dog!� and he�ll see what he�s done.� Bridgett melted into tears. Fourteen-year-old, true-love, girl tears. Then she ran up the steps and we didn�t see her again.

Just as in any well constructed soap, none of the storylines resolved and they weaved back and forth, intertwining, but never overlapping. I always knew where to look and during the breaks I listened to the music. It was a wonderful time.

Posted at 2:12 a.m.

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