Friday, May 28, 2010

For those about to Rock

Well yesterday I mentioned that I'm going to a concert this weekend, and I'm getting a little frustrated at The Man's (not MY man, but as in down-with-the-man) efforts to ruin my good time. Namely by not allowing me to bring my giant Big Gulp full of strawberry-banana daiquiri. I know, right?

Here's the thing. I only drink occasionally, and when I do, I expect it to be full of whipped cream and berries. That is how I roll. I despise anything even vaguely beer-ish in nature, and I have a firm distrust of women who can drink beer like it's Coke Zero. (Not to mention an unpleasant awareness of what beer drinking can do to us ladies in the summer. I'll help you out = yeast infection. Yeahhhhh. And that's not really what I want to know about other ladies. Capice?)(Where else can you learn this stuff? Once again, I do you a service.)

I also refuse to pay approximately $23 for a bottle-mix "margarita" that will guarantee me a migraine by the third band. And not just because of the migraine - I'm allergic to anything even slightly resembling tequila. So. You see my quandary.

Obviously I don't HAVE to drink. That's a given. (For the record, I'm also against spending $15 on a bottle of water.) But you see, I am almost *never* WITH other adults and withOUT the Children of the Corn. This naturally = strawberry-banana daiquri! Except that it doesn't, because The Man says I can't bring anything but my car keys and my cell phone into the Concert Venue. And it's not like you people have made me Blogging Queen of the World so that I can get back-stage. Yet. (We have time. Get cracking!)

I'm also *not* committed enough to my daiquiri to bring a cooler and slam it in the parking lot like the alcoholics with the rest of the Unwashed Masses. Sigh. Do they serve Smirnoff Ice because, uh, I can deal with that. But only because it reminds me of Sprite Zero. (I'm quite the party girl, no? No.)

The main thing, of course, is the music. And avoiding being a witness or participant at an assault trial again. True story: I went to a Steve Miller show during college, and ended up testifying against some lady who had given my friend's friend a concussion. I know! Steve Miller! I was stuck listening to "The Joker" next to Officer Friendly while he took our statements. (The trial was actually pretty entertaining and the judge liked my English degree pursuits, but I digress...)

Because I'm old wise, we bought seats instead of taking our chances on The Lawn, which really should be called The Ring or The Brawl or The Place to Get your Ass Kicked. I'm not into that. I wasn't into it when I was a wee sprightly 17 year old and I'm not into it now. I have a personal space bubble of AT LEAST three feet. Don't touch me. Don't jostle me. Don't grope me. Do NOT pull my hair, lest ye be smited righteously.

Should I be concerned that the headliner performs a song called "Let's Start a Riot"? Nahhhhh.....

Oh well. Despite the Man's best efforts to ruin my good time, I will prevail. For those about to rock....(if you can't finish this line, I have nothing more to say to you.)

Comments, questions, are you rocking?


Danielle Hoy said...

You need to be my new best friend. I am a recent coke zero addict. I also despise beer but love a good smirnoff ice. The only place we disagree is with margaritas. But only homemade for me no store bought mix!!!

Sammo said...

I will *totally* be your bff! :) I am actually drinking Coke Zero right that scary or what...although I guess it's better than Smirnoff Ice since it's only 2:45. LOL! :)