Brendan Benson
Brendan Benson MOTHER FUCKING ROCKED THE MOTHER FUCKING 400 BAR!
So there I was at the 400, where they do not serve Summit for some inexplicable reason. WHAT THE FUCK. Anyway, I was pointing at the James Page tapper and the bartender asked if I wanted the Smithwicks. Whaaa? Irish ale? The irish parts of me hollered loudly and I pointed at that tap instead.
“Okay, you sold me, give me that!” I practically shouted. This may have been after I bought Stan and myself Maker’s Mark in honor of the Hawaii kids (not as good neat). The bartender looked at me quizzically and asked if I wanted to try a sample. I threw a slug in my mouth and swished it around before draining the finger or two that he had pulled into the plastic cup.
“I think he likes it,” said a cute woman standing right there at the bar. I honestly had no idea what to say because I wanted more ale more than I wanted that cute woman to talk to me. I think that I said something like “MORE, FUCKER, MORE GODDAMN ALE NOW BEFORE I KILL EVERYONE!”
Actually, I think that I said, “I’d some more of that, please,” before turning to the cute woman and saying with great aplomb, “how are YOU tonight?” I’m pretty sure that I had already had bourbon, because I was being my extra loud self. The woman closed her eyes and turned away in disgust. Stan just looked at me like I was nuts. During the show she stood behind us, then in front of us, and I imagined however briefly that she thought that I was cute and was doing what I used to do at concerts - stand next to a cute member of the opposite sex and pretend to not be interested. Nowadays I just don’t give a shit anymore, because honestly, who meets someone at a concert besides that chick who was dressed up like a schoolgirl for Halloween at First Ave that one time and let me finger her in her car a few nights later.
The opening band (Robbers on High Street) was spectacularly awesome. Stan and I shouted to each other about how tight the band was, and how much we appreciated the cheesy fake ass piano. Later, Stan commented that he thought that the opener was better than Brendan. Sacrilege! I bought their CD from some random cute woman before they were even done playing.
Brendan played only a few songs from One Mississippi, but one of them was “Sitting Pretty.” I screamed more than usual, danced, sang along, and almost knocked over a table. It was glorious. I think that I saw Blue. You’re my boy, Blue!
By the way, if you feel the urge to read EIGHTEEN pages of my blog you should at least say HELLO. Honestly. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
Oh yeah, it’s my job to fix web shit. I really want to help you, but I feel like an asshole. Thanks!
Paul: I got reasonably drunk, but nothing like Saturday will be. You’re the fucking best!
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