Saturday Night

I've been sitting on tickets to see John Prine in concert for months. I got a sitter. I got dolled up. And I got dissapointed. Here is a list of things I did not post to Twitter about the concert:


OMG. I am too tired to go out. Whose bright idea was it to buy these concert tickets?

I have assembled the perfect outfit. High heel boots, with nude fishnets, skirt, T-shirt & suede jacket.

I need a shot of espresso with a redbull chaser.

F! It's really cold.

Finally at the Warfield. Remember me, old music venue?

Who are all these old people?

Who is this warm-up act?

Who is that guy?

Damn, my feet hurt.

$10 for a cocktail?

Why is everyone sitting? Oh right, the median age is 50+.

There is a huge hole in my stockings and it could be somewhat obscene. I hope I don't end up exposing myself.

The guy next to me keeps yelling, "Space Monkey". Over and over and over.

All this fun AND $10 an hour for the sitter.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

What if I fall down the stairs and my skirt flies up and everyone sees my ripped up hosiery? Focus on the clean underwear. Please.

Why do I wear heels?

Going for to the restroom for entertainment. Sure sign of a bad show.

"Space Monkey!!!!!!!"

Can I go home now?

My husband is such a good sport for putting up with & indulging my singer/songwriter fascination.

When I get home, I am so putting on sneakers to walk the babysitter out.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

When I get home, I am so throwing these hose in the trash.

I bet bartenders have to contend with some stinky breath. Especially when everyone in the audience has gray hair.

Look, Mister. There is a set list and I'm pretty sure he's not going to stray from it.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

Ohhhhh. Encore. There setting up an extra mic! I hope it's a duet!

Oh - no, just bringing out the warm-up guy again.

Yay! Time to go home. Just have to hobble to the parking lot.

Well, that was fun. Just not as much as I had anticipated. Okay, maybe fun is an overstatement. I got out of the house. Whoot.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"