I should have known I was in trouble when he sat down at the computer and pulled up the website he wanted without swearing, muttering, or asking for help. I should have been worried when he didn't start putting of a "I want to kill this thing" vibe. I should have been afraid when I saw that he had his wallet with him.
He never gets on the computer if he can help it. He couldn't check email to save his life. He can rarely find the site he's wanting, and he habitually says things like, "It hates me, you know." He'd throw the computer through a 3rd story window, if we had a third story and I'd let him.
Just over a month ago, he did the impossible--and the frightening. He got online. And he bought something.
His only request for my input was to ask, as he was nearing completion of his mission, "Hey, honey, you want to go see Alice Cooper at the fair, dontcha?" As my eyes glaze over at the ridiculousness of this question, he hits the send button and announces, "Good! I've got us tickets."
To say that our music tastes do not exactly mesh is an understatement. He habitually ridicules my choices, and I habitually groan and tolerate his. (In my defense, he cranks up the stereo more often than I do.) Some of his choices have grown on me, and I have come to actually enjoy listening to it.
But, Alice Cooper? Seriously? No, this concert is not high on my list of places I want to go. Add that to a FAIR of any kind, and in all honesty, I'm thinking "I'm in Hell" will be the catch phrase for the evening.
Until I realize that my enjoyment of watching the people would compliment his enjoyment of the show. AND, most importantly, neither of our children, nor any other family members would be going with us.
I wouldn't have to be on my bestest best behavior. I would just have to keep my frustration and irrational anger at the FAIR and everything it embodies to a minimum.
Last night, we were off to the fair. He was excited. I was amused.
While there, we ran into an Episcopal priest we know--and he was dragging his wife to the concert as well.
I managed, in the walk into the fair, and then into the concert, to hold in my giggles. And my sarcastic and rude comments. I managed to not go bug eyed at the over-50 people with beer bellies (mostly women) and the oldsters with gray hair down to their butts (men.) I managed to not begin shrieking with laughter when the woman in the green halter went by with no bra and each and every one of her stretch marks showing.
Seriously, I think the tickets should have read "BRAS OPTIONAL." And most of the braless were NOT the 15-25 year old hotties, either. They were, of course, the people who had the most to flap--I don't care who you are, looking at flabby 50-something tits hanging under a two sizes too small tee isn't attractive (although, in her defense, the green halter woman did have a decent set--not too big as to be flabby and saggy, but still!)
The show, overall, wasn't bad. It was actually fun. Somehow, my impressions of the show lead me to believe that Alice Cooper has quite a sense of humor. And he doesn't mind making fun of himself. And that he's rather a good showman. He knew what the audience wanted, and he gave it to them--right down to the beheading. And the hanging. And the song about Ethel.
In the end, the shiny, mirrored top hat and tails that he ended the show in was really, in my opinion, worth watching all the loose and free titties for.
Does this make me a fan? I don't think so. It does mean I can appreciate a good show. I can appreciate the work and planning that went into choreographing a concert that included several ways to die.
I can't believe the people who had their small children--I mean at least one had a baby in a stroller with them, and I saw at least a dozen children under the age of 9 in the crowd as well. The show was simply NOT appropriate for children. Sure, there was no nudity, but a few of "Nurse Rosetta's" costumes were black bustier and corset things, including torn fishnet nylons. And the noise level was enough to damage MY hearing forever, I can only imagine what it would do to a 9 month old baby's. And some of the death imagery was just too much for a child. I'm 42, and I can appreciate the "pretendness" of it, and am not bothered by a theatrical performance, but I couldn't imagine taking the Howler to a show like this and not causing some sort of short in her hardwiring--the sexual content of some of the songs, the sexual and violent imagery, which, I'm sure, by standards of 2009 TV and movie audiences aren't that shocking, would just be unfair to expose my child.
In the end, I did enjoy the show. Much to my own chargrin. My biggest regret? I forgot my camera.
And, yes, I did get the $30 t-shirt.
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