Happy Tuesday folks, I’m just gonna get right into it.
Blogging from among the masses in the general admission section on the lawn at the Gwen Stefani show (from my phone, no less).
The youth is in full “social gathering” regalia, young men with their baseball caps twisted sideways and half-cocked over tightly freshened-up crew-cuts, young ladies squeezed into skin-tight bits of cloth they’re trying to pass as clothes. Oh, it’s on (it’s not really “on,” I actually feel pretty old, to tell the truth).
I’m pretty much transfixed watching the chaperoning moms, the way they nonchalantly watch their pre-teen daughters “wind and grind.” I can’t tell if they’re really good at pretending not to care, all the while squirming on the inside, or if they truly don’t mind the statutory-inviting junior-stripper antics. Tell you what though, some of these girls are dancing like they have body parts that they haven’t even grown yet. Were we this bad when we were kids?
I’m actually petty amazed I’m able to blog from my phone right now; believe it or not, it’s the first time I’ve ever done it. This new BlackBerry predictive text keyboard is pretty functional, as should be evidenced by the fact that I totally wasted time typing about typing. Anyway, moving on.
Y’know, being here, seeing these kids, and, more importantly seeing these adults doing their best to look like kids, I’m actually happy to be all ‘grow’d up.” I’d hate to be “that guy:” Forty-something years old, all tatted up wearing a 13lbs silver herring-bone chain with spiked bleached-blonde hair ala “I’m thirteen and I just discovered Sid Vicious.” Hey, if I’m ever that guy, sit me down and lay it on me, OK? (The truth that is, lay the truth on me, OK?)
Well, the it’s nigh on midnight and we’re on our way home. The battery on this thing is almost gone, and I’m fresh out of things to say anyway. I know I’m totally gonna be disappointed with the length of this post when I see it on a real screen, but it looks huge squanched up on this tiny thing, so I’m calling it good.