Elvis.

Well! How about that? I got to see the future ex Mr. This is so silly! the other night. That’s right, you read me! ELVIS LIVES and rocks! He rocked the Hollywood Bowl anyway…and my heart. While he rocked, my inner sixteen year old girl just about freaked out. Then, when he sang “Allison” and this slender blonde dude took the stage to sing along…my inner sixteen year old girl fainted. Dude, it was Sting! STING! Of course that was because Elvis Costello and the Imposters opened for the Police. Or really, they played before the police because my man, he don’t open for no one, he headlines and then lets other bands play after him, because he is nice that way.

Yeah, so, enough. I saw Elvis Costello and the Imposters and The Police the other night. It was several shades of awesome. I did enjoy it immensely. And when Snarkydork showed up and made fun of me for not dancing, I showed her…by not dancing some more. Still, I get why people would dance at a Police show, even, to some degree, dancing to Elvis Costello, even though I don’t. I just still don’t see Crowded House as dance music, but apparently I am the odd one out.

You know what else I don’t get? The weed. Why people? Why? It hurts me. And that’s just mean when I pay a pile of money to listen to pretty men sing that you have to go and blow smoke in my face and then my throat swells and my head aches and I have a concert hangover the next day. You’re mean. Is it really that hard to make the brownies? Isn’t it more convenient anyway? You can take a brownie into the Bowl easy peasy. Or go big time and do the shrooms. I hear they are pretty good in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Just…no more smoke, ok? It hurts.