Waaaaaay Too Old For This Kind Of Silliness

My fabulous sister Meghan e-mailed me a last-minute invitation to a show at the Fine Line Music Cafe on Friday. I didn’t really know who Bob Schneider was when she invited me, although I did recognize the one song that she sang part of as having gotten a lot of play on the local alternative radio station a few years ago. But she raved about a CD of his that she used to have (until she broke it), and anyway, Meghan is fabulous, and a night of live music with her is pretty much guaranteed to be a good time. So I said, hell yeah, I’m in.

We met two of her co-workers there, and when the opening band took the stage, I said, “Damn! These guys are GREAT! Who are they?” Turns out, the opening band had already played, and THAT was Bob Schneider. The music was great and the show was a lot of fun (I totally get why he has been banned from the Basilica Block Party…), and even though I don’t normally go for the scruffy, long-haired rocker types, I found Mr. Schneider himself to be, oh my goodness, a most charismatic morsel of a man. We were in the balcony, and I swear he looked up there about twelve times, surely because he could sense me ravaging him in my head. (Judging from the throng of sweaty young females pressed up against the stage, and the purple thong that landed onstage at one point, I suspect it’s a common affliction.)

We ducked out of the concert a little early, because one of Meghan’s co-workers knows the owners of a couple of clubs downtown, and he wanted to show us around a bit. Clubbing is something I never did a whole lot of (okay, never did at all), having spent pretty much all of my twenties married and parenting two young children. The clubs we went to were very interesting, and because we were “on the list,” velvet ropes were opened for us more than once. That was kind of exciting. But overall it was simply not my scene. I am so far from fabulous that I had to have Demigoddess the Younger tell me what to wear for God’s sake. By the end of the evening, no doubt Meghan’s co-workers were both wondering how the sister of a one-woman walking party could turn out to be the biggest buzz-kill of a dishrag on the planet. I really didn’t know what to do with myself in those clubs, and I spent most of the time we were in them wishing we had stayed at the Fine Line to see the end of the show. Paris Hilton I’m not.

So today I’m going to spend my lunch hour shopping for the newest Bob Schneider CD. You can hear it here.