See, now, this is why I shouldn’t do housework. Wet. Soaking wet. Although they’ve been sitting there since last night so now they’re probably moldy and wet. Normally G does the laundry. He’s kind of particular about it and apparently I’m just not up to snuff so he does it. Of course, I’m perfectly capable of folding all of the said laundry which is totally a cop out. I mean how hard is it to throw clothes in the washer then move them to the dryer? The folding is where all the skill lies. But I digress. We generally do laundry on Sundays – which is a holdover from apartment living when you had to lug all your clothes down to the basement and save up all your quarters and try not to get grossed out by the other things living down there. We have our own washer and dryer now – in the kitchen under the counter – so why limit laundry to Sundays? Anyway, yesterday was NOT Sunday but somehow we had missed laundry on like the last two Sundays so I was desperate for clothes and thought I’d do a nice thing. I got through the dark load and the white load okay fine. But the delicates (I don’t know – ask G. It’s his system!) didn’t fare so well. I really stuffed the washer, but they made it through that fine – it’s the dryer where everything fell apart. I cleaned out the lint compartment and then went to set the cycle timer and that’s where I think things went bad. The freaking machine won’t turn on. Can I just tell you? ALL MY CLOTHES ARE FREAKING DELICATE! I literally have nothing to wear. Sure, sure, what about all the clothes in the closet? Very funny. You see I’m fat and it’s summer so I have like one pair of pants and two shirts that fit and I feel comfortable in. You know what I’m talking about. And now they’re wet.

I completely blame G for this. When the stove blew up, he kept saying things like “I wonder if everything’s going to start to go bad now. You know it’s been nine years.” JINX JINX JINX! I told him to SHUT UP! Like NINE is the magic number when all your appliances stop working? Is that true? I thought these things are supposed to last forever. When we moved in here all the appliances were from the Stone Age. I swear there was a little fairy or something rubbing two sticks together in the back of the oven. We got everything new then anyway because it was all supremely gross and the cootie factor was enormous. But c’mon? Is everything really supposed to stop working now?

I’m never doing laundry again.

First off – the quiz was broken but now it’s fixed. Basically I had to start a new one – if you’ve already taken it, please don’t take it again. Thank you! (Over a hundred of you took the quiz – is it the chance at free yarn, or bless my heart, do you all really want to learn about my religion, BruceSpringsteenOlogy – where it’s okay to take any drug you want?)

I don’t know where to start, really. I’m exhausted. We got home about 1AM and had something to eat then went to bed. But I was up at like 5:30 still thinking about the concert.

I expect a lot from a Springsteen concert. I expect to be transported to another place – a place where everyone pumps their fists in harmony. No, really, I expect to be lifted by the words and music. I expect the bass to pound in my throat and to be thrown into a frenzy and get extremely emotional. And I am RARELY disappointed. Last night was no exception. For the most part.

This time around Bruce is touring with a HUGE band – like 3 or 4 guitarists, bango,back up vocalists, piano, drums, a horn section, two violins, stand up bass, an archordian – there are A LOT of people on stage. And while the sounds of his new album verges on country (which I really don’t like) or hootinan, the horns save it! The horns are everything. (I may be in love with La Bamba!) (OH MY GOD! La Bamba and I went to THE SAME HIGH SCHOOL! HOW COOL IS THAT!!!) The whole concert feels like you’re at a New Orleans funeral. And the songs aren’t his – they are mostly songs that have become part of the fabric of America – old Negro Spirituals, protest songs, ballads. In the liner notes most of them aren’t attributed to any one person – they just are. But the presentation is pure Springsteen – it’s rousing and fun and playful and serious and heartfelt and AMAZING.

The first four songs were a blast. I wore a smile so big my face hurt. I was bouncing around like a kid presented with a puppy – complete with squeals and clapping hands. I was sweating and dancing and singing at the top of my lungs! I WAS IN MY GLORY! I had Bruce and my man by my side and nothing could go wrong.

The next part of the story I’m a bit ashamed about. But I’ll tell it anyway.

I’m not much for public sharing – i.e. movies, concerts, theater, sporting events. I’m acutely aware that there are many people out there just waiting to ruin public experiences for me. No, I’m not paranoid (much) to think that they are DELIBERATELY out there waiting to ruin things for me, but they are there. Waiting. It never fucking fails. I go to the movies and even when it’s empty someone sits next to me and talks the whole freaking time. I go to the theater and someone talks the whole freaking time. So I avoid these situations. I rarely, if ever, see movies in the theater. I’d rather watch at home where the only person who can ruin the experience for me is myself.

Inevitably this happens at concerts as well. Especially Bruce concerts. Bruce’s fan base is such that there are many people stuck in 1984 (the year Born in the USA was released and Bruce became MEGA.) These fans feel it is their god given right to see Bruce in New Jersey whenever he performs, get shit roaring drunk and scream out THUNDER ROAD every opportunity they get. Doesn’t matter if Bruce is alone on stage playing acoustic. Doesn’t matter if it’s the E Street Band. They come and they drink and they scream. It’s really quite a shame because in the end (if they remember anything) they don’t like the show because they don’t get Thunder Road and they don’t get arena rock and still they come. One of my favorite concert moments ever was seeing Bruce at the Beacon Theater in NYC – a very small venue. He was on the Tom Joad tour, which was a solo acoustic tour, and he started the show telling people that he needed quiet to sing these songs and please help him out and still there was one asshole – no doubt from Jersey – who wouldn’t stop yelling out Thunder Road. Bruce stopped, in the middle of the show, and told him in no uncertain terms to SHUT THE FUCK UP. If you don’t believe me – I’ve got it on tape. 😉

Last night, the first four songs were SPECTACULAR! I heard my favorite of the new album – Oh Mary Don’t You Weep, which was followed up by a nothing short of astonishing version of Atlantic City. Really – blew my freaking socks off. I was dancing I was singing I was deliriously happy. It was GLORIOUS. And then this asshole and his girlfriend bogarted their way into the seats next to us. Now, I know when you buy tickets to a concert it’s a crapshoot who your neighbors will be. That’s the price you pay (along with your first born to Ticketbastard.) BUT when assholes show up next to you WHO DON’T EVEN BELONG IN THE SEATS then you have every right to be livid. Don’t you? So these cocksuckers show up and they’re plenty drunk and the girl is holding one of those extra large beaker bottles filled with beer and she kept her bag on her shoulder the whole time so the beer bong thing is swinging around and her bag is swinging around and they’re dancing like drunken fools they are and they have friends two rows up who they keep high fiving with over this poor older woman’s head who wisely stayed in her seat the whole time because really she probably would’ve gotten sucker punched if she stood up. In between songs, when Bruce is talking about the homeless and the death penatly and war, this fucker next to us is shouting “Who loves you Bruce? Philly loves you Bruce! New Jersey loves you Bruce! THUNDER ROAD!!!”

Now I understand full well that this is a concert. People are allowed to dance and SHOULD dance and people are allowed to scream and SHOULD scream (hey I can BROOOOOOOCE along with the best of them – and I do) but the drunken disorderly-ness is UNACCEPTABLE. I will never understand why people pay A LOT of money to come to a concert to get shitfaced. Wouldn’t it be a lot cheaper to stay home and drink that six pack in front of the tape player? You can yell all you want there. It’s just so obnoxious and ignorant and base. And yes I think I’m better than this guy. I really do. Because at the end of the night he’s going to get in his car and drive home drunk and I can only hope he was arrested.

The worst part of all of this? I let the guy ruin my night. I HATE THAT. HATE IT HATE IT HATE IT! I tried so hard to be all zen and say that it was okay and I was there and the music was good but I was so freaking aware of his spastic moves and that his drunk ass girlfriend was thisclose to hitting G in the head and that they yelled through the quiet songs and screamed during Bruce’s talks and that there was nothing I could do about it because anything action on my part of G’s part would’ve ended in a fight and I HATE IT! I LET THE FUCKING DRUNK ASSHOLE WIN!

Really, though, in the end I don’t blame the asshole. He’s an asshole. He has no choice in his life but TO BE AN ASSHOLE. He’s not smart enough to know better. (Or maybe he was – on the drive home I said to G what could that girl have possibly seen in him and we both commented on how we observed that when the girl left (to go buy more beer) the guy became completely normal. He stood there quietly – even sat down. As soon as the girl got back MR. ASSHOLE returned. It was really quite hysterical.) Anyway, I don’t blame the drunk guy. Put beer in front of him, he’s going to drink it. He has no self control. And I really don’t blame the venue either (which was quite nice – Tweeter Center in Camden) – they’re trying to make a buck. I blame Bruce. On the Devils & Dust tour, he made it tour policy that as soon as the lights went down and the concert started, all concessions stands closed. And yes, people were drunk because they spent all day drinking in the parking lot, BUT THEY DIDN’T GET DRUNKER. They got more SOBER as the
night went on. It was one of the most enjoyable experiences ever. And while I don’t expect this at every concert – maybe half way through you cut people off? An hour in? SOMETHING? I can’t believe you enjoyed the THUNDER ROADING any more than I did. In fact, I know you didn’t. So Bruce, my love. Do something!!!! I’m with you all the way, but please. No more.

Whew! That felt good. You may ask why I still go to Bruce concerts when inevitably there will be assholes nearby. Because my friends, those first four songs – when the asshole wasn’t near us – were some of the best moments of my life. And that’s worth all the assholes in the world.

Back later with some good stuff. And if you’re interested, AOL is showing 18 Nights of Bruce – a live clip from each of the US concerts. Last night’s My City of Ruins is already up. ENJOY! (I promise – no assholes.)

PS – Oh and so far no poison ivy. But I’m still itchy – although it’s kind of an all over body itch so I think it’s all in my head.