Sometimes a banana is just a banana

Published July 13, 2014 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

In the immortal words of Roger Murtaugh, I’m getting too old for this (insert word of choice.)

Tonight I scoffed in the face of my paranoias and fears and general desire to stay away from situations that ook me out and went to see EH’s band play (He’s the bass player in several bands and this particular one is my favorite.) The whole evening had the potential to be horrifying. The lead guitarist was best  man in our wedding, the singer is the Adulteress’s ex-boyfriend and the drummer is choosing to stay neutral on the whole issue. He is also the drummer for the Reggae band that EH is in. I don’t got to see them much, because I kind of told the lead singer to do something unpleasant and logistically impossible when he gave me the stink eye when I met some guy for coffee. He is one of the several locals that looked the other way while said adultery was happening.

Tonight had some real potential. I remembered that the best revenge is looking good so I had on more make-up than Ru Paul and set out.  The handful of people who know all involved parties were visibly uncomfortable which EH and I both  found hilarious.

The opening band was one guy in rockabilly hair who yarled int the mic as he played the guitar and thumped on a bass drum.  Is this a think now? When did I miss the performance art as rock show opener? I can bang on the triangle and hoot into a mic just as good as the next guy and I could use the extra cash.

And when did all of the men decide that there were only two options for Saturday night attire: skin tight jeans, western shirts rolled up over the bicep and hair producted within an inch of its  life and skin tight jeans worn with a vest over a bare chest. Vest guys also had long, flowing locks.

I think I missed something. I don’t know  if I care to know what it was.

It was a little surreal watching a band that I have more or less been on the fringes of for the last two decades. It was a little  sad, like seeing Clarabelle without her make-up.

I think one of the songs was the one the lead singer wrote about his GF  being a psycho. I’m not sure that was it, but if it was, it was a nice touch.

It’s past my bedtime.

Good night sweethearts.

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