Last night I headed out to see the Old 97’s in concert. On a scale from one to rocktastic, I would say they were rockin’. For those of you unfamiliar with the group, they are alt-country or countryish rock or whatever the kids call that kind of music these days. The lead singer looks like Ken, as in Barbie and Ken, but if Ken had a Jim Morrison complex. I don’t mean that a diss. It’s fun to watch. But the guy probably spends more on one haircut than I have ever spent on all haircuts in my life combined (I don’t get my haircut very much). Also, he had the best-fitting pair of jeans I’ve ever seen on a person, male or female. Also, he had no hair on his forearms. I don’t know if that’s a guitar player thing, the way swimmers shave their legs, but I really do wonder how he does it. Nair? I just googled a combination of words related to the guy’s name and arms and arm hair, but no one else seems to have been too bothered by it.
But enough of the band. I have observations to make about all the people around me. First off, I might have been standing directly behind acclaimed actor John Malkovich. If it was indeed John Malkovich, then he has an iPhone, is going to Lollapalooza soon and is way into the Old 97’s. It looked a hell of a lot like John Malkovich.
The girl next to me seemed extremely excited just to be out of the house, which she demonstrated by squealing at odd times both when bands were playing and in the times in between. She was with a man who was either her father or her boyfriend, a determination I just couldn’t quite make despite stealing many a glance at them. If they were father/daughter, I found them unnaturally affectionate, but if they were boyfriend/girlfriend, then, well, he’s old enough to be her father.
This girl was very excited to see one of the opening bands, and sang along to them in the kind of way that people sing along when they don’t actually know all the words. Whenever she and her boyfriend/father sang along to a particularly long passage, they would jump up and down and high-five each other, I guess to celebrate knowing that many words in a row. Then the girl would do some squealing and clapping. Look, girly, there are only a few appropriate times to squeal at a show. I have identified them here for you:
1-when the band comes out
2-when the band starts playing a song you really like (but an exception to this rule is if it’s a band with one hit playing their one hit. Everyone expects them to play that song so you don’t have to show your appreciation for it. Show your appreciation for some obscure song that they’re doing you a favor by playing. In my humble opinion)
3-after a particularly impressive instrumental solo
4-after a particularly meaningful line in the song, so as to show the impact of that line on you
5-after the song
This girl wasn’t squealing at any of those points, and the frequency of her jumping made me wonder if there was something Wrong With Her. But she calmed down once the Old 97’s came out, and if I were to have to pick a person to stand next to at a show, I would rather have her than the stereotypical hippie chick with long dreadlocks who wants to free-flow dance around to the music and whip her dreadlocks in everyone’s face girl. Cause I have stood next to that girl, and I’d rather stand next to an intermittent squealer.
For awhile between bands, the girl tried flirting with the boy who was in front of her, a young man with the greasiest hair I’ve seen in a while and that unfortunate smattering of facial hair that comes when you’re not quite through puberty yet. This further complicated the issue of whether Squealy Girl was with a paramour or a padre for me, but the situation with Greasy Head burned out quickly as the boy seemed to realize that girls, particularly ones that squeal and wear sparkly tanktops, freak him out and he turned back around. I don’t blame him.
On the other side of me was another girl who possibly peed her pants because she didn’t want to lose her spot near the stage. I missed part of that conversation so I don’t know if that was a joke or if it was for real. Maybe she spilled water on herself. Apparently there was definitely some moisture. At one point she turned around to the guy that was with her, and remarked, “I read your blog today. You’re right, we haven’t had sex in awhile.” Which immediately made me wonder what search terms I could use to try to find this guy’s blog, because that might have resolved the question of whether she peed her pants or not. The guy obviously shares a lot of personal information on his blog. The girl seemed remarkably unconcerned with this information about her being out in the blogosphere, so I don’t feel too bad about repeating it here.
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