We went somewhere last night and the one person in the entire place wearing a bandana on his head…sat down next to us.
We went to the [tag]9:30 Club[/tag] for a [tag]Rasputina[/tag] recital. It was a seated show so we decided to take the chance, I rarely go out anymore because it’s too tiring. The joys of a chronic illness are many. I’d never actually seen Rasputina perform. That’s not completely true, we saw their soundcheck at [tag]Iota[/tag] once but I was too tired to actually stay for the show. It was a good soundcheck, though.
So, although I stayed through the whole set last night, I was too exhausted to stay for the encore. It was a really great show and the opening band, [tag]the Mathematicians[/tag], were good in an “early Beastie Boys if the Beastie Boys had written songs about math kind of way.” (I mean that in the best possible way).
But back to the [tag]bandanas[/tag]. I’m willing to issue exemptions to: my neighbor (because she’s adorable), firefighters, and cowboys. The [tag]Crocs[/tag] policy is not going to be nearly as lenient.
I think bandanas are fine only if you’re Richie Sambora. But crocs are just never okay.
This was much funnier the first time I read it and it said “bananas.” That whole dyslexic thing isn’t just a sad joke, you know.
I hate to say, but get yourself a wheelchair — lets me get to a whole lot of places I’d never get to otherwise. You have the required necessity — a strong husband. We’ll talk.