I have stuffed my ever-spreading Midwestern ass into my Levis, pulled on my concert-goin' sweater, and my fabulously well-matched concert-going shoes. I encouraged my hair to curl. I put on foundation and lipstick.
I am going to the Guster concert. I plan to have fun. Screw you, music marketers, you and all your demographics.
On the other hand, I am in effect going with my Dad (that would be Gary), and he won't let me drink or scream like a girl.
How long can I do this? Seventy? Eighty?
You're rockin' out! I think you can continue to go to these shows until you the day they won't let you through security with your walker.
Posted by: Rhea | February 23, 2007 at 05:32 PM
Seems to work for Mick Jagger and Roger Daltrey.
Posted by: Becs | February 23, 2007 at 06:22 PM
You can go to concerts until the day you die, and watch all of the youngsters look at you with that patronizing, "Aw, look at the old lady!" look they always have on their faces.
Enjoy Guster! I love to see them live. They are so much fun.
Posted by: Carrie | February 23, 2007 at 07:17 PM
I believe you can do this until the day a judge decides you can be buried in the Bahamas, but I may be wrong about that.
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