In an effort to bump up my Street Cred

Number one, I need a better camera. Possibly. Actually, I need to learn how to take pictures like my friend Grant. He and his wife Ashley get the most beautiful shots of their daughter-- they work to get lighting right, etc. Grant has devoted a lot of time to learning how to use their fancy-pants camera. Me? No time. No money. No real desire. Until I try to post things and everyone's like, "Hey, what was that blob of darkness supposed to be?" In this case, it's Zoey, traumatized from her run-in with the Easter Bunny moments before. I got her to put on the ears, but she just doesn't trust a 6' rabbit. I guess having her watch "Harvey" someday is not really going to work out (unless it's the actual bunny, and not the concept that scares her... hmm). Restoring Zozer's happiness wasn't too tough. She was naughty while we picked up candy for the family Easter gathering, but I thought we'd try a little carousel ride instead. Sadly, the ears got left behind.

I love the next picture, but you can hardly see my little pal's face. Apparently, this was a bigger hit than having strangers take your picture with a big, scary, furry person. Plus, she's been on real horses before (add that to another thing she's already surpassed her favorite aunt in-- she's also a star with swimming lessons, and I'm a drowning case ready to happen).

Anyway, despite my domestic pretendings, I'm still not your typical Mormon Mom. Aside from the obvious lack of children, I'm still doing my best to live dangerously. Yes, I know you're laughing now. Because nothing I do is remotely dangerous, besides driving back and forth from Los Lunas to Albuquerque multiple times a day. Last night for trip number three, I had to call my friend Insomniac Aaron to help me stay awake. He is heaven-sent.

But yes, I was talking about how cool I am. I'm tough. It's not all antique stores and tea parties for me (though yesterday was the bomb and I got a really great deal on an antique bed)-- no sir. I'm hardcore. I went to the Morrissey concert. All by Myself. And guess what? It was totally worth it!
Oh, Moz, you're such a star! (Even though you are old, and puffed-up [meaning prideful, and not a reference to him looking a little swollen, though the double-meaning does not seem inappropriate] and more than a little weird)

Summer was correct when she said he is perhaps the sweatiest man who ever lived. At first I thought, "Naw-- everybody gets hot up there under the lights." No. He soaked through FIVE shirts. He kept changing them because he was melting away. The couple of times he threw them out into the audience, I was nearly killed by stampede. That's what I get for standing down front. After waiting in line for more than an hour (thank goodness I even got in), I just muscled my way to the front. There were some nice little fellas from El Paso who were good enough to protect me a bit when the crowd surged forward (because basically, I use "little" in the affectionate, diminutive sense-- these dudes were massive!). Unfortunately, these guys were also some of the prime "shirt fighters" and wrestled with this little guy for about 10 minutes straight after the show. Really? I like Morrissey, but I don't think I want his old sweaty shirt. When Jacob Divett throws me his sweaty shirt after his next show (Monday, 7 p.m., Launchpad), then I'll duke it out with someone. Just kidding! Though actually, I can think of one person in particular who would probably kill me for even thinking of looking at Jacob while he sweats. J knows who I mean. She threatened to shank me in a parking lot once, just for being his friend.

So anyway, back to Morrissey.

The show was really good, even with the very smelly girl standing in front of me (it wasn't an unwashed, B.O. smell, or a "I just smoked something illegal smell." Just kind of nasty sweet in the same way old Lance Romance and Judge used to smell-- the kind of scent that makes me think, I couldn't really be around you for a long period of time because I think you smell funky). I like the intimacy of the Sunshine Theatre, though the location gives me the creeps a bit. Downtown is a little weird. However, whilst standing in line, I made many friends, including the contact person for UNM's Executive MBA program. Yep, that's my big secret these days, but let's go ahead a blow the whistle-- I may break down and get the MBA. I've fought the call for years, but now I'm actually looking into it. But that is for another post. Why, oh why, can't I get away from being boring and responsible? Whatever.

Whilst writing, I accidentally deleted a video clip from the concert, and now I can't get it to post. I'll try again later. When I do get it posted, I don't expect you to watch all of it because it's choppy, the sound quality is horrible, and it'll make you a little sea-sick in a "Moulin Rouge" sort of way (only I'm not Baz and it was unintentional). It is funny about mid-song when you can hear the guys behind me singing very enthusiastically. You also get a nice look at Moz whipping the mic cord around. It reminded me of 1980s ribbon dancing. Anyway, how's that incentive for checking back in with me?

On the whole, it was a really good show. I was disappointed that he didn't play my personal Smiths favorites, "Half a Person" and "Please, Please, Please, Let me get what I Want." Also, he scootched himself right back to his tour bus so I couldn't go beg him to autograph "New York Doll," though the El Paso boys said they were having drinks with Mo's guitarist afterwards (apparently Boz is producing their album) and they thought that might console me. I didn't go. Not only does going to a Morrissey concert actually MESS with your street cred, I'm still too nerdy (and maybe cautious and smart) to go play groupie to a second fiddle with a bunch of strangers, as good bodyguards as they were.