What happened to the world we had when we were young?

Addendum added 8/31: Unbeknownst to most of us, Dave's father was in our hospital at the same time that the news of Dave's death was breaking. His father has a very, very long medical history and was in critical condition. They broke the news to him about the death of his son. He died later that night. Today, there will be a joint wake for father and son, tomorrow a joint funeral.




Don't Ask me -- A Flock Of Seagulls -- 1982

When my daughter was 2 years old and I was 20, I got a job. My Aunt was a supervisor at a local hospital and knew of a department that needed someone to work the overnight shift every weekend and one night during the week. I was hired.

After being left behind when I had a baby and all my friends veered away to go to college, I was thrilled to be amongst adults again. I loved working the night shift. There were few, if any supervisors, no brass and no hierarchy bullshit. Within a year of accepting that entry-level position, I successfully transferred out and began what was to be an 11 year stint in the Emergency Room. I stayed on the night shift.

It was on that shift that I met a girl, Anne, close to my own age, who was to become a very close friend. At the time we met, she was engaged to a young man, Dave, who also worked at the hospital. There was a group of us who would go on to become friends, mainly at work. However, Anne and I and 1 other girl were the closest, and by virtue of their relationship, I also became friends with Dave, Anne's fiance.

Dave and Anne were married for over 10 years, many of them rocky. They were very different personalities. My friend Anne is a mover and a shaker. She is adventurous and bold and never afraid to take on a challenge. Dave was much more laid-back and was content for life to lead him slowly down it's path. As is common with young women, Anne shared her complaints and worries and concerns with me, so I was aware for a long time prior to the actual divorce that Dave and Anne's marriage was failing.

Even after the divorce, although I remained good friends with Anne, I also continued to be friendly with Dave. He was a good guy. Easygoing and friendly. I would see him regularly at work and he always asked about my family, as I did about his.

Anne went on to remarry and now has a 5 year old son. She is very happy. For Dave, however, happiness was elusive for a very long time. He drifted from menial position to menial position and never seemed to find the solid ground he was searching for. Then suddenly, there was talk that he was seeing another young woman from work. Then there were rumors of engagement. Then talk of marriage. But never from Dave. He was conspicuously absent from the crowd doing all the talking.

The rumors turned out to be true and within a few months after their wedding, the newly married couple were expecting a baby.........but Dave was not the bearer of the proud news. He had slowly extricated himself from all of his former friendships to focus only on his new wife. He had been told, in no uncertain terms that he had a new life now. His wife did not approve of the friends he had once shared with his ex.

Old friendships were lost, feelings were hurt. Dave and his new wife lived out their lives removed from the same group that had continued to embrace him throughout his darker times. Only recently, I was told that the couple was expecting a second baby. The first child is less than 1 year old. I was happy for him as were many others, but also saddened to think that his ability to share his happiness was limited to the "approved friends" list.

Then, this morning, a co-worker came into my office and closed the door. Dave was found dead of an apparent heart attack in his back yard. He would be 41 years old next week. He will never meet the baby his wife is expecting. He will never see his firstborn grow up.

I called Anne at work to break the news. Despite the breakup of their marriage, the hard feelings that were created.......she was crushed. At one time, she had loved him.

So, the little group of friends who originally met over 20 years ago will meet once again to say goodbye to a friend. We don't know if we will even be allowed into the wake, but we feel the need to go and finally have an opportunity to say goodbye to a friend we all lost.



A very long time ago.

The world is a mirror and I see the things I hate

Mr. Strange -- Boy George -- 1999




In honor of the kiddies returning to school and the summer coming to an end, I am going to devote an entire post to things that make me angry. Things I hate. Things that are stupid. Things that annoy me. Things that should be banned from my world.

In no particular order:


1. A crazy, neurotic, hyperactive boss.

Take a friggin' pill, OK? I have worked in some very high stress environments where things TRULY ARE a matter of life or death. This department is not one of them. Fuckin' relax! Your stupid shit will get done.....as it always gets done. On time. And no one will die. Asshole. Oh, and by the way, try penciling those eyebrows into a more attractive shape. The angry slash over each eye does nothing for your appearance, or your reputation.


2. Piggish neighbors.

Hey assholes. I know that mowing your lawn is hard. Picking up dog shit is even harder. And moving the rusted, abandoned cars out from the driveway is near impossible, but let me give you a few words to mull on. DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH. You pieces of worthless human shit.


3. Stupid neighbor.

Yep, surrounded on both sides. You, fat ass on the ladder. That was some mighty stellar brain cell usage on your part. Picking the end of August.......THE HOTTEST AND MOST HUMID MONTH.......to repaint your house. I am sick of seeing your sweaty ass out of my window. Put on a friggin' shirt. If you were a 25 year old hot guy, shirtless might be titillating. However, you are a 63 year old fat man........shirtless is just tit-jiggling. Seeing as you haven't worked a full-time job in over 15 years, at least limit your stupidity to the hours when us productive humans are at work. Thanks, loser.


4. More stupid neighbors.

This time, the sow and her demon spawn across the street. To the sow....control your fuckin' kid, or, now that he is legal, I will arrange to have him controlled. Maybe by cop, maybe by thug..........my flight of fancy will decide.
To the spawn. Let me be very, very clear. I will speak slowly and use small words because I have known for many years that you are sad and stupid. Your mother has raised an asshole. Yes, you. She is a fool and she has raised you to be a bigger fool. Therefore, let me give you a few pieces of advice, because I'm kind like that.

A.)DO NOT EVER THINK OF FUCKING WITH ME OR MY FAMILY. If you even entertain the idea in the slightest, I will devote the rest of my life to finding ways to get you back. Trust me.
B.) Slow the fuck down in this little neighborhood. You never know when you might come racing around that corner, as you are so fond of doing, and find a big SUV stopped directly in your path of travel. That would be my SUV, and I am not above taking a hit for the safety of the neighborhood. Then, your Momma's insurance can buy me a shiny new one.
C.) Turn the shitty music down. You are too stupid to remember that I have many friends in Law Enforcement. They won't like you because I don't like you-----so be a good dumbass and don't force me to call them. I have the number on speed-dial, you know.
D.) To save us all a lot of trouble, just drive off a high bridge, mmmkay?


5. My kid.

I know you are tired, I know you are stressed. I know you have no money.

STOP COMPLAINING. Or I may arrange for you to take a scenic bridge tour with the goon across the street.


6. My Mother.

Love ya' dearly, but you are driving me batshit. Stop checking on everything. Stop saying " what?" and make yourself an appointment at Belltone. STOP ASKING ME QUESTIONS IN THE MORNING. And, please, stop complaining about the Princess being miserable. I KNOW!!!! ( see #5 above).


7. My dogs.

Stop growing hair and barking. That's all.


8. My pharmacy.

Please stop telling me that you can't fill my prescription because my doctor has not called you back. You tell me this every single damn month, and every month I call the doctor and they recite the dates that they returned the calls. Just fill the friggin' medicine, OK???? Because, chances are, when I finally go postal, it will be at the Pharmacy and not at the Doctor's office...........I mean, why waste a good co-pay when the visit to your Pharmacy is free?


9. My body.

Just once..........cooperate. I'm a little fed up with the hair-falling-out-all-over-the-pillow follies. And the menstrual stuff. And the heartburn. Really, really funny. Can't wait to see what you have planned next.


10. Finally. My life.

Right now, you are completely and wholly unsatisfying. Couldya' work on that?

You're a working girl now

XTC -- The Meeting Place-- 1986




Today is the Princess' first day of orientation to her new job. Here is a bit of info on where she will be working ( names have been changed to protect the innocent. More appropriate titles have been italicized):

"The People Who LOVE The Princess Enough To Hire Her School is an independent day school with approximately 120 students in preschool through sixth grade. The school is located in an urban Princess infused neighborhood adjacent to a city park that overlooks the Long Island Sound.

Teachers at The People Who LOVE The Princess Enough To Hire Her School create a rich, child-centered learning environment for each child while teaching them the academic and social skills they will need throughout their student and adult lives.

The People Who LOVE The Princess Enough To Hire Her School is accredited by the Connecticut Association of Independent Schools, is a member of the National Association of Independent Schools, and is approved by the Connecticut State Board of Education."

And here is a little bit about the curriculum:

"Our classrooms are designed to provide a visually appealing, warm, learning environment with furniture arrangements that promote small group and individual learning. Teachers use a thematic approach that integrates the study of language, math, social studies and science. Children in all grades also receive instruction in Spanish, art, music and fitness. There is a 5:1 student-teacher ratio in the preschool and an 8:1 student-teacher ratio in the K-6 program."


The Princess is an associate teacher, not yet heading her own classroom. That was a bit of a comedown for her while searching for jobs. With a double Master's degree and 4 years of pre-school experience, she really expected that she would be handed a classroom full of bright and shiny 3-4 year olds.

Ahhhhh, to be idealistic again.

Once she realized that was not likely to happen without some PAID teaching under her belt, she was OK with the associate position. I give her 2 years before she's heading her own room.

The new teachers get 7 full days of orientation. Today is simply meeting over a school-sponsored breakfast, and then they will spend the day touring the school and learning about each other.

Tomorrow is a planting, painting, cleaning, beginning-of-the-year preparation day.

Next week, they have an entire morning dedicated to a school sponsored CPR certification course. One other afternoon will be spent at the Director's house at the shoreline for a Barbecue. There is lots of time allotted for the newbies to get to know the established staff in a very relaxed atmosphere.........sans kids.

I think it's a wonderful idea. I hope the Princess has a great time. She admitted to being very, very nervous.

I think getting to work will be the best thing for her. She thrives on accomplishment. On being busy.




Also, she really needs to make money.

What day is this, besides the day you left me?

Stay Or Leave -- Dave Matthews Band -- 2003



For as long as I can remember, I knew I could be left.

Because I was.

My Father walked away from us before I was 3 years old. He never looked back.

For most of my life, I truly believed that his abandonment didn't shape me. It didn't really matter. After all, he was a stranger. I had no memories of him.

How could you miss someone you never knew? How could you mourn the loss of a figment?

But it did shape me. It molded me in ways that I realize, now, were unnatural. I mistrust. I am cynical. I have "commitment issues".

There was a time that I was different. I gave of myself willingly. Too willingly. I trusted when I shouldn't have. I was intimate when I should have been cautious. I was clingy when I should have been strong. I had no idea how to act in a relationship. I had never seen a successful one in action.

I had several boyfriends as a teenager and young adult. Intense dalliances that always left me broken and alone. I fell too hard and too fast and suffered the fate of a shattered heart each and every time. I was a mother by the age of 18, and my daughter's father and I battled through a tempestuous relationship for almost 4 years. When it was finally over, I was a shell of a human. I had been broken in a way that, I was afraid, could never be fixed.

And then I fell in love. When my daughter was 4. With a person who was so unlike anyone I had ever loved before. He was stable. Kind. Loving. Normal.

He pursued me. He was not someone I would normally have noticed, but he turned out to be a wonderful person. He was as crazy about my daughter as she was about him. He changed my entire life. We talked about plans for marriage, about how he would adopt my daughter, about how many more kids we wanted to have. We spent every waking minute together. We were inseparable and we were crazy about each other. He gave me hope and made me believe that I was worthy of being loved. I trusted him with every ounce of my being. I was happy for the first time in many, many years.

And then he left.

With little explanation.

He destroyed me.

And then, I tried to destroy myself.

Mainly because I was tired of being left. Because, for once, I wanted to be the one to leave first. For almost 2 years, I struggled to hang on. I suffered through terribly dark days and even darker nights. I struggled to be a Mother. I struggled to be myself. I struggled to get out of bed every day and face my life. I hated myself and I hated my life.

Eventually, it got easier, day by day. Until it almost felt normal. Except for that part that had been so terribly broken. The part that trusted. The part that loved and wanted to be loved. I have never managed to fix that part, and I don't think I ever will. I don't even know if I want to.

It's easier to be alone than to be left alone.

I have been alone for almost 20 years. There are days that I long to have a relationship. The giddiness that accompanies a fresh start. The intimacies that come with being emotionally tied to another person. The feeling of being treasured.

And then, for the briefest of moments, I remember how it feels to be left.

The feeling that I have carried for my entire life. The memory that never fades.




And I wonder if I will always feel this way.

Welcome to my life, tattoo.........

We've a long time together, me and you -- The Who -- Tattoo -- 1967



Many of you, the in crowd, are aware that I have tattoos. Several. 6 to be exact.

I love them. To me, they are art. I cannot remember a time in my life when I DIDN'T want a tattoo.

I know a lot of you probably despise tattoos, but guess what, I don't really give a shit. I love my tattoos. So go ahead, bitch all about them. Truly..........I don't care.



They are addictive, these little pieces of living art. I have been looking forward to getting another for a while. I knew exactly what I wanted. This, without the background.:




I love, love, love that image. It is David Bowie's album cover from his Earthling release in 1997. I have loved it from the moment I saw it, and since my heritage is Irish and English, and I already have a Claddagh tattoo, I figured a Union jack would be a tasteful addition.

Shut up already. We ALL have different tastes.



So, I have been waiting. My Mother had given the Princess a gift certificate for a tattoo for Christmas because she wanted a cute little firefly. When we went to schedule the Princess' appointment last week at our regular tattoo shop ( yes, we have a regular tattoo shop! Doesn't everyone?), they were .....ummmmmmmm, uhhhhhhhh..........assholes.

So the Princess decided that she would get hers done somewhere else. At a nearby, newly opened place and I could have the gift certificate. Cause I don't much care if they are assholes as long as they do good work.

I called our place and tried to make an appointment. The owner, who has tattooed me in the past told me to e-mail him my design....so I did. Then I called. He made the appointment, took my deposit over the phone and told me he'd see me in 2 weeks. I was thrilled. I was ecstatic. I was prepared to be inked.

And then I asked him for an estimate. Nothing exact. Just a rough idea of price.

He quoted me 400 to 450 dollars.

Was he fuckin' nuts?!?!?!

I graciously declined ( because I may go back there at another time and you never wanna' piss off the needle wielding guy) and canceled the appointment.

I decided to check at the place where Princess had so much success. New place, young owner, not very well known yet. Prices were bound to be better.

And they quoted me 450 to 500 dollars. Apparently, everyone who tattoos has gone mental.

I mean, c'mon. It's a 6 inch high tattoo. I'm not recreating the Mona Lisa or the Last Supper on my calf. I don't even want the background included. Just the guy. I think all these TLC tattoo reality shows have gone straight to their pierced heads.

So now, my calf is inkless and and I am sorely disappointed. Probably not as sorely as if I had actually been inked, but I am pissed.

Anyone know of a good but cheap tattoo artist in Connecticut?

Funny, right?

Anyone have any red and blue Sharpies to spare?

There's a river born to be a giver , keep you warm won't let you shiver ..........

His heart is never gonna wither, come on everybody time to deliver -- Give It Away -- Red Hot Chili Peppers -- 1991




Not much doin' around here. No great tragedies, no enthralling drama.

The roof has not collapsed yet.

Lumpkin did come to spend the weekend with the Princess, but apparently, some of my previous conversation with her actually penetrated her skull. She rather decisively informed him that she WOULD NOT be paying for everything while he was here, so he had better ante up for some groceries and/or other expenses.

That translated into the loser arriving with an Outback Steakhouse gift certificate for 50 dollars.............that had been given to him by his Mommy. Someone gave it to her, but she let her baby Lumpkin have it so he could act like a good and dutiful boyfriend, and not the parasitic slug that he actually is.

Two losers.

Luckily, I made sure we were very busy all weekend so that I did not have to entertain him at all. I would never refuse my daughter's company, but I really think I would have a hard time being polite and civil in his dumb-assed presence, so I groomed and groomed and groomed and cleaned and mowed and weeded and shopped and pretended to be incredibly busy. Or just didn't answer the phone until he was safely on a train back home............which I'm sure his Mommy paid for.

I can only imagine the self restraint that would have been required on my part to have a civil discussion with the loser had I been forced to spend more than 7 seconds with him:

Me: So, Lumpkin, how are you?

L: Me, ummmmmm, OK I guess.

Me: You guess?? Don't you know?

L: Yeah, I'm OK. Sure.

Me: Really, well what do you have to be OK about? A meaningful career? A raging case of unpredictable neuroses? A total lack of motivation?? A faintly sad and yet frightening relationship with your Mother?? Please do tell.

L: (falls over dead from fear)

Me: Now that's better. Good to see ya' Lump.

So I am really glad that he never arrived at my house because then I would be responsible for apologizing to the Princess for inadvertently killing her stupid boyfriend.

And......while he was there, Princess' African Dwarf Frog Morticia, purchased to replace the deceased Theodore the Goldfish died also. Maybe Lumpkin has an evil ju-ju.

I wish he would just go away.

My, my Avalon. Bitchy often?

In other news, I did something nice for someone just because I could.

I am waiting for my medal. Or cash. Let me explain.

We have been on the lookout for a gently used 8,000 BTU AC unit for our house. We have a few for our bedrooms, but we needed one for the Living Room. With a large and obscenely wealthy university one town away, there are plenty of Craigslist opportunities appearing every day. I found exactly what I was looking for and made arrangements to pick it up Sunday evening. When we got to the apartment complex, we had to be rung inside by the seller. We waited there with another person......a college aged young woman pulling a giant wheeled suitcase. As is her MO, my Mother struck up a conversation with the young lady and found that we were all going to purchase items from the same seller. She was buying a Microwave. She was a second year college student from California and was moving into her very first apartment and out of student housing. She had no car, and therefore was going to wheel the microwave home in her suitcase.

As we waited, she read a sign in the lobby that also advertised a TV for sale. When the seller came downstairs, he advised her that the TV has just been sold. She seemed disappointed, but cheerfully gave him her 20 dollars for her Microwave.

As they attempted to stuff the Microwave into her suitcase, I asked her if she would like a ride home. I explained that I understood if she was hesitant, but she seemed thrilled not to have to drag her new purchase home.

We got my AC, packed that, the girl, her suitcase and Microwave into the car and set off. While driving she offered that she was here all alone and had moved into her apartment just this week. She seemed embarrassed to admit that she had nothing but a futon to furnish it, but was very proud of her newly purchased microwave.

As I listened to her talk, I thought of my own daughter and found it difficult to imagine that a parent could send their child across the country and not see fit to provide for some basic necessities of living.

I asked her about her inquiry for the television that had been for sale at the apartment building. She said that she had no TV, but also didn't have much money to afford to buy one at this time. So, in a spasm of kindness and goodwill, I offered her the Princess' old TV. She seemed shocked, but shyly accepted the offer with many thanks. I gave her my cell phone number and told her that I would come back later in the week with the TV. We dropped her off and she thanked us over and over.

My Mother and I drove home, unloaded the AC, packed the TV and brought it back to her. She was thrilled and later left me a voice mail expressing her thanks once again. She said that she loved the TV and assured me that it would be well cared for.

Now I'm worried that the kid doesn't have cable.



So see, I'm not always a complete bitch......despite what people are saying.

Boy, you gotta carry that weight, carry that weight a long time

Carry That Weight -- The Beatles -- 1969

I know that many of you are probably out there thinking:

"Look at that Avalon. Livin' the easy life. No hubby, kid has moved out on her own, just a pack of Poodles to worry about".

You all think it's so easy to be me. So simple to live a relatively unfettered life.

I can hear the judgment in your whispers. Or maybe that's the sound of my vertebrae sliding down my spinal column.

Lets have a little chat about just how wonderful my life was this past weekend, shall we? The weekend that was supposed to be relaxing; a time to de-stress from a shitty job. Two days to sleep later that 5: fuckin 30 a.m. That weekend.

My Mother woke me up at the asscrack of dawn on Saturday morning, all rosy-cheeked and breathless. There was a TAG SALE!!!!!!!! WEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEE!!!! Can you imagine? A TAG SALE?!? On a Saturday morning in the summer in New England. People selling stuff on their lawns. The insanity of it all!

But this was a very special tag sale. This was a neighborhood tag sale and it was the neighborhood of a Police officer who works with my Mother. It was their SECOND ANNUAL TAG SALE OMFG!!!!!!!!!!! But before we all suffer a fatal coronary over the excitement, let's do some nifty time transport back to this weekend one year ago:

We went to the first-annual tag sale in this very neighborhood just last year. As tag sales go, it was OK. Nice neighborhood, pretty good loot ( cop joke........so sorry), and we managed to score a 27 inch TV for the Princess for 40 dollars. Seeing as she was moving into an apartment/roommate situation last year, and all she had was a teensy little 13 inch TV prior to the tag sale, the 27 inch deal was not to be passed up.

The Princess took the bargain up to the new apartment where it was watched about 23.5 hours per day by any configuration of roommates.....excluding the Princess. She mostly stayed in her bedroom and watched the teensy 13 inch TV.

So, back to the present:

The Princess moves back here, we take her 27 inch bargain to her new place and all is happy in the fair kingdom of Princesses. Until, in a fit of goodwill, I give the Princess a gift of one year of Netflix. Because she loves movies. A LOT.

When we hook up a DVD player to the 40 dollar tag sale TV, the volume goes seriously wonky. In a bad way. The only way to watch the movies and actually hear the dialogue is to watch the dialogue. You have to view all of the movies in Closed-Captioning. Pretty much takes all the fun out of movie-watching, unless, of course, you are one of those foreign-film type freakies. Sorry Princess.

So, when my Mother heard about the second annual tag sale, she hoped and prayed and pleaded with the TV gods that there would be another television available. And, when we arrived at the asscrack of dawn, sure enough, there sat ANOTHER 27 inch TV!! What're the odds, I ask my legions of fans?

We scoop up the new 27 inch bargain........35 dollars for this one as we were told it was a bit older than last years bargain, and we cart it home to the Princess' apartment. We had been assured that it worked fine, just fine.

Apparently, something about being ripped from it's homeland sent this newer tag sale bargain wonky, because after we huffed and puffed and cursed and tripped this monster up the stairs to the apartment, hooked it up to cable, plugged it and and said a small hocusey-pocusey type jingle...........the picture looked like pure shit.

It was grainy and fluttery and crappy and all sorts of colors. It was unwatchable. BUT! The sound was great!!!! Yay us!

The Princess never batted an eyelash. She just said " hook the old one back up and it will be fine. Really Ma, it's no big deal. Once I'm working, I'll save some money and buy myself a new TV that I can actually hear" .

Just dig my heart out with a spork, why doncha?

So, being the lovely ladies that we are, my Mother and I decided that we would spring ( I know, I know....we need a damn roof.....but 250 bucks isn't gonna buy one of those) and get the Princess a TV. As a surprise.

So we took ourselves to Circuit City and found a very basic 27 inch TV. That, of course was no longer in stock. So they agreed to sell us the floor model for 70 dollars off the stated price. We had to buy a universal remote. The TV was nice, the reception in the store was great, they carried it to our car and again, the angels sang, the heavens opened and our world was happy.

We got the Princess' apartment and she was definitely surprised. We carried , dragged, shoved and cursed the new TV all the way up the stairs and hooked it up.

And the picture was horrible. Really bad.

After 2 hours of futzing and swearing and consulting the gods of the Internets for help, we decided that maybe the new-fangled TV was receiving some type of interference......and.....

here's a great thought! Let's drag it over to our house and see how it works there. If it is simply breathtaking in that environment, we can give the Princess our proven and faithful 27 incher with no known volume oddities, and we can take this one!!!! Good thinking, us!!!!

So, now we drag 2 different 27 inch TV's down the stairs and into the car. The latest tag sale find and the brand new TV. We bring them to my house. We put the tag sale crap in the garage for Craigslist, we take the new one into the house. Unhook our TV, hook up the new one to test it out.

The fucker still looks like pure turd.

Sooooo, we load the new one back into the car, drive it back to the store, get our money back.


We go back to my house, re-hook up our TV, go back to the Princess' apartment, re-hook up her original, volume deficient TV, and then sit on the floor, soaked in sweat.

Did I mention that Saturday was approximately 93 degrees with 77 percent humidity?

Maybe I blocked that part out.



So the next time all of you are so envious of my footloose lifestyle, strap a 27 inch TV onto your damned back and tote it up and down a flight of stairs 6 times.




See how great my life is then.

I'll always love my mama, she brought me in this world

I'll Always Love My Momma -- The Intruders -- 1973


Today is my Mother's birthday. She is 63.


So, in honor of her, everyone feel free to go out and have a drink on us. Tell the bartender that we will pick up the tab.

If he doesn't believe you, tell him to come and talk to me. I'm the one on the corner in the fishnet stockings. Working to pay for the roof.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!!

Truth hits everybody , truth hits everyone

Truth Hits Everybody -- The Police -- 1978


The Princess and I had a girls night out last night. We went to see this. I have seen The Police many times over the past 25+ years, the last being at this event. The Princess was raised with their music and really wanted tickets to see this reunion show, so many months ago, I splurged and bought them for us.

It was a fun night. The concert was OK. Not awful, not great. I guess that's what the intervening years have done to all of us.

Left us suspended somewhere between not awful and not great.

So, in honor of our big we-are-oh-so-cool night out, I have a few concert related truths I would like to share with some of you.


1. Mapquest--- My dear Mapquest. You have taken me places, shown me things that I could never have seen on my own. However, over the past few years, I have noticed that you are failing. You have lost your edge.......your sharpness. You are no longer on your A-Game. I have tried to remain faithful to you, but last night, I slipped from your comforting grasp and forged out on my own. I followed the lovely and concise State Of Connecticut directions........and got to my location precisely 9 MINUTES AHEAD OF YOUR ESTIMATE!!! So long, sucka!

2. Parking lot attendants-----said with sarcastic venom. First of all, if it's an unmowed, filthy field it really does not qualify as a parking lot. Simple enough? Good. Then take off your stupid-assed neon yellow shirts, toss away your giant halogen flash lights, and lose the attitudes. I am paying 15 bucks for the unmitigated pleasure of parking in a glass filled shithole. I should, at the very least, get a " you're welcome" after I am well-mannered enough to say "thank you".

3. Concert vendors----Please, do us all a favor and stop pretending that you don't see us, waiting patiently at the counter to make an overpriced purchase. And, quit the eye rolling at the sight of a debit or credit card. Not everyone carries their multi-millions in their shorts-pocket. BTW, do you have a friggin bag for the shirts, or would you prefer that the drunken ass in the seat behind mine spills his beer all over my lovely new merchandise?

4. State Police officers and their bomb/drug/terrorist sniffing dogs-----makin' me just a bit nervous. Mmmkay? Just wondering why we are spending our hard earned tax dollars to sniff out 45 year old yuppies with their 9 and 11 year old demon spawn wearing multicolored Crocs? Have poorly aging New Wave fans been identified as the latest breed of terrorists? Do tell.

5.Designers of Rentschler Field-----You miserable bastards. Bleacher seats!! A parking lot more than a mile away from the stadium. Unpaved sidewalks. Temporary fencing lining 6 foot wide foot paths to contain 35000 exiting concert-goers. No signs directing you to the entrances or exits. Great thinking on your part.

6. The couple 4 seats to the left of us------YOU ARE OLD! Understand? You are not 16, swaying to your love song with your steady, or mugging it up like a horny businessman and his 20 dollar bargain. YOU ARE OLD!!!!!! Have some dignity. Or save it for the back of your Volvo.

7. Sting-----Liar, liar, balding head on fire. Your son CANNOT SING. While it is undeniably kind of you to have his band as your opening act, ditch the press releases that talk about how fantastic he is. Or how great the band's music is. He sucks. His band sucks. His lyrics suck. Even his hair sucks. And he obviously got the dominant maternal gene for looks. Spare us that fatherly pride and drink down a long, cool dose of reality.

8. Sting again------Love ya, but the high notes. Where the hell were they? When you can no longer hit the most vital notes in the songs that made you famous, pack it in. However, good on ya' for rockin' the tight pants and the combat boots. The notes may be gone, but the ass is marvelous.

9.East Hartford Police-----I'm usually sympathetic to cops. I know you have shitty jobs that put you in mortal danger for crappy pay. But, when I KNOW that you are getting BIG OT for working extra duty jobs like last night's concert........how about you try something completely novel? Like working! Standing idly at an intersection while 4 lanes of cars try to turn left into 1 lane of traffic IS NOT WORKING! Break out the trusty Mag-lite, wave people in the direction they need to go, and all is well with the world. Thanks Officer!

10. Me----- YOU ARE ALSO OLD!! You are no longer 20 and cute. All of the perky parts are now heading towards gelatinous. Where there used to be sexy, feminine little beads of perspiration, there are now pools of salty sweat. Dancing and screaming and acting the fool over a has-been band will cause you much pain, many questions about what is wrong with your voice, and a completely miserable time at work the following day. Glad you had a great time!

and finally:

11. The Princess-------We did have a great time. We laughed, we busted on people in the crowd, we enjoyed each other's company. It was sheer pleasure for me to watch you dance and sing and enjoy the songs you first heard as a baby in your carseat. You celebrated the show with abandon and I was there to witness your fun. With all that we have been through together, especially lately, I loved seeing you let loose and have fun. It was worth every penny. Thanks.

That's the truth.