Okay, excuse my French, BUT WHAT THE FUCK. A little while ago I get home from the gym, just in time to get an innocent text message from BJ: "!!! is playing at Congress tonight!"
Right. So my favorite band of the past year is playing at an awesome, intimate venue attached to a cool bar in Tucson where my boyfriend and his buddies are hanging out. I call him.
"You're going, right?"
"No, I can't." He says, regretfully. He's there for a bachelor party and they're all about the head out to a *different* cool bar.
And then the cursing starts. On my end. EFF THIS BULLSHIT! MOTHEREFFING SON OF A B! I can't believe this! EFF! I COULD BE IN TUCSON RIGHT NOW! EFFING EFF EFF EFF! DAMNIT! ONE OF MY FAVORITE BANDS. PROBABLY PLAYING FOR CHEAP. AND I COULD BE COMING OUT THIS WEEKEND-- IN FACT, I MIGHT'VE COME EARLY IF I HAD KNOWN- AND I COULD BE GOING TO SUZ & COLEY'S WEDDING IN TUCSON, OR TO BERKELEY TO THE SC GAME WITH MY FRIENDS, BUT INSTEAD I HAVE TO GO TO DELAWARE FOR MY COUSIN'S WEDDING WHERE I GET TO HANG OUT WITH MY MOM'S SIDE OF PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE RELATIVES. NO, really, I LOVE THIS. I'm so glad I spent my night trying to put together functional, yet fashionable outfits for my visit back east that would communicate to my seldom-seen relatives both that I love them enough to dress up for them, but am NOT a snobby elitist academic with an all-too-polished wardrobe who thinks too much of herself because of the OBSCENE amount of time she has spent circulating through the West Coast's fine system of higher education. THIS IS AWESOME. I LOVE the fact that I'm going to end my day, as I usually do, by laying on my SWEDISH AB BALL, STARING UP AT MY CEILING, and WORRYING THAT MY RESEARCH INTERESTS IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POST-PURITAN PRE-REVOLUTIONARY WAR LITERATURE may not, in fact, be as universally relevant as they appear to be to me, INSTEAD OF GOING TO AN AWESOME CONCERT IN A COOL BAR WITH ONE OF THE PEOPLE I LOVE MOST IN THIS WORLD.
Somewhere, some *other* 26 year old is having the night of MY life.
DAMNIT...
Right. So my favorite band of the past year is playing at an awesome, intimate venue attached to a cool bar in Tucson where my boyfriend and his buddies are hanging out. I call him.
"You're going, right?"
"No, I can't." He says, regretfully. He's there for a bachelor party and they're all about the head out to a *different* cool bar.
And then the cursing starts. On my end. EFF THIS BULLSHIT! MOTHEREFFING SON OF A B! I can't believe this! EFF! I COULD BE IN TUCSON RIGHT NOW! EFFING EFF EFF EFF! DAMNIT! ONE OF MY FAVORITE BANDS. PROBABLY PLAYING FOR CHEAP. AND I COULD BE COMING OUT THIS WEEKEND-- IN FACT, I MIGHT'VE COME EARLY IF I HAD KNOWN- AND I COULD BE GOING TO SUZ & COLEY'S WEDDING IN TUCSON, OR TO BERKELEY TO THE SC GAME WITH MY FRIENDS, BUT INSTEAD I HAVE TO GO TO DELAWARE FOR MY COUSIN'S WEDDING WHERE I GET TO HANG OUT WITH MY MOM'S SIDE OF PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE RELATIVES. NO, really, I LOVE THIS. I'm so glad I spent my night trying to put together functional, yet fashionable outfits for my visit back east that would communicate to my seldom-seen relatives both that I love them enough to dress up for them, but am NOT a snobby elitist academic with an all-too-polished wardrobe who thinks too much of herself because of the OBSCENE amount of time she has spent circulating through the West Coast's fine system of higher education. THIS IS AWESOME. I LOVE the fact that I'm going to end my day, as I usually do, by laying on my SWEDISH AB BALL, STARING UP AT MY CEILING, and WORRYING THAT MY RESEARCH INTERESTS IN EIGHTEENTH CENTURY POST-PURITAN PRE-REVOLUTIONARY WAR LITERATURE may not, in fact, be as universally relevant as they appear to be to me, INSTEAD OF GOING TO AN AWESOME CONCERT IN A COOL BAR WITH ONE OF THE PEOPLE I LOVE MOST IN THIS WORLD.
Somewhere, some *other* 26 year old is having the night of MY life.
DAMNIT...
