So I realize that I'm entering into crabby old person territory here, but c'est ça. That's the way it is.
We went to a concert Thursday night. I won't say who the bands were, the first one because I don't know who they were, and the second because I'm told they are actually good. I couldn't say because I COULDN'T HEAR THEM over the noise they made. My husband says it's the venue's fault for not getting the sound system correct; I'm suspicious that it's laziness on the part of the groups. If they don't feel like performing well, all they have to do is play so LOUDLY that nothing other than the base comes through. The venue shook, like a car with a large speaker system in it does in traffic. Just imagine lots of cars with large speaker systems surrounding your car and you almost get the idea.
Kind of crazy thing to do: no one who heard the bands for the first time Thursday night would go out and buy the groups' music.
AND my second get offa my lawn observation:
I hope that when I was young and had long hair I didn't fling it all over the people near me. Seats were not assigned at the venue and my first seat was next to a young woman with long, long hair, which she flung around ON me, so I moved. The woman who moved into the seat in front of me was a hair-flinger too. She and her date appeared to be in their late 40s or early 50s and spent their time there...what's the current word?...canoodling?
Geeze. Get a room.
Maybe they did. They left after the opening act.
OK, so that's three get offa my lawn moments.
Chill, knittergran, chill.
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2 comments:
See, you should never skip knit night!
One year the kids got us George Jones concert tickets for Christmas. In our area aboriginal people are avid country music fans, so there were a lot of them among the audience. I smelled a lot of smoking and having just completed an aboriginal cultural awareness seminar for my teaching job, I assumed it might have been sage or sweetgrass. My kids straightened me out on my understanding of different "weeds".
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