WWJTD?
On Friday night, I saw one of my favorite bands, Wilco, for the 4th time live in concert. I got to the venue three hours before the opening band went on in an attempt to score great general admission seats. Which, with a little help from my friends, I did. Balcony, dead center, with a little ledge for my beer and no one standing in front of me.
Except, as luck would have it, I pick the spot directly behind the most obnoxious girls in the place who paid $2 more per ticket to show up after the opener was finished (in this case, a really smart move considering Retribution Gospel Choir sucked pretty hard).
There were three of these girls, and I can only describe them as this weird mix between trashy and hippie dippie. They danced like they were tripping at a Grateful Dead concert. They chain smoked yet held their cigarettes like novice fifteen year olds experimenting with nicotine. They were like horseshit; they were everywhere, moving all over the aisle and changing seats every two seconds. None of that would have been so bad if they weren't right in my damn way.
So, the guys I went to the concert with decided to approach them about their crazy ways. The ringleader of the Trashy Hippies called them assholes right off the bat. So, of course, three or seven beers in, I told her very plainly that she was acting like a bitch. Plus, and this is a fact: she had very weird, coneshaped boobs. That's probably from where the bitchiness stemmed.
Anyhooters, she went on to tell me that Jeff Tweedy wouldn't approve of my behavior. It wasn't very Wilco-like. Have another, moron.
After that, she decided to take the obnoxiousness up to an eleven by deliberately blowing cig smoke in my face and singing at the top of her lungs. It was pretty much an embarrassing sight. You know those people who try way too hard to look like they're having the time of their lives while their ex-boyfriends are across the way with their new girlfriends, looking all schmoopie? It was something like that.
I did, in fact, have an awesome time, and it was a great concert. After it was over, I was talking to acquaintances and the like before we left the show. Turns out that while I had managed to forget about the previous incidents, Rosey tried to earnestly compliment the Trashy Hippie on her back tattoo, but she wasn't having it. She took his perceived mocking out on me by barging up and letting me know she thought I was a horrible person. I told her that she was a horrible person as well.
Then I went to Fitz's and had one more beer and talked shop with Rich from Falling Martins. 'Twas a fantastic night.
Except, as luck would have it, I pick the spot directly behind the most obnoxious girls in the place who paid $2 more per ticket to show up after the opener was finished (in this case, a really smart move considering Retribution Gospel Choir sucked pretty hard).
There were three of these girls, and I can only describe them as this weird mix between trashy and hippie dippie. They danced like they were tripping at a Grateful Dead concert. They chain smoked yet held their cigarettes like novice fifteen year olds experimenting with nicotine. They were like horseshit; they were everywhere, moving all over the aisle and changing seats every two seconds. None of that would have been so bad if they weren't right in my damn way.
So, the guys I went to the concert with decided to approach them about their crazy ways. The ringleader of the Trashy Hippies called them assholes right off the bat. So, of course, three or seven beers in, I told her very plainly that she was acting like a bitch. Plus, and this is a fact: she had very weird, coneshaped boobs. That's probably from where the bitchiness stemmed.
Anyhooters, she went on to tell me that Jeff Tweedy wouldn't approve of my behavior. It wasn't very Wilco-like. Have another, moron.
After that, she decided to take the obnoxiousness up to an eleven by deliberately blowing cig smoke in my face and singing at the top of her lungs. It was pretty much an embarrassing sight. You know those people who try way too hard to look like they're having the time of their lives while their ex-boyfriends are across the way with their new girlfriends, looking all schmoopie? It was something like that.
I did, in fact, have an awesome time, and it was a great concert. After it was over, I was talking to acquaintances and the like before we left the show. Turns out that while I had managed to forget about the previous incidents, Rosey tried to earnestly compliment the Trashy Hippie on her back tattoo, but she wasn't having it. She took his perceived mocking out on me by barging up and letting me know she thought I was a horrible person. I told her that she was a horrible person as well.
Then I went to Fitz's and had one more beer and talked shop with Rich from Falling Martins. 'Twas a fantastic night.
posted by quank at 1:01 AM
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