| October 2, 1999
Vomiting In My Purse
waiting for Elvis Costello to come back onstage for that third encore,
last night, when David bent over and started digging around under our
"It's behind my feet," I said, mystified. "Why?"
I want to see if there's any vomit in it," he replied.
He was referring, of course, to the infamous Vomiting-Into-My-Purse at-the-Rock-Concert Episode of 1974 ... a horrific tale I've often inflicted on friends, Tots and *FootNotes* readers, but one which bears repeating today, since:
1.) I've recently celebrated that one year milestone of sobriety
2.) I am the mother of teenagers who occasionally cruise through this website -- at least, whenever the Mariners aren't pre-empting "Futurama" -- and who may have missed the story the first 43,897,621 times I've told it
3.) I've spent so much time dinking around with the new website layout today that I'm very nearly out of actual writing time (she says sheepishly).So quickly, here's the Infamous Vomiting-Into-My-Purse-at-the-Rock Concert Story ... in all its regurgitated glory:
| David looked
around at the audience last night, as we sat in the nosebleed section
of the Oakland Paramount, and he said, "Everybody here looks like us."
Meaning forty-something and sober.
I caught an occasional whiff of sour liquor from the guy sitting behind me, but this was definitely not your vodka-in-Pepsi-cans sort of crowd. No topless girlfriends perched atop their swaying boyfriends' shoulders. No giant beach balls, no mass Bic-flicking, no clouds of marijuana smoke, no knock-down-drag-out fights in the ladies' room.
(And no hangover the next morning.)
insert self-important blurb here: check out the new tapesty ... and "Things That Go *Ping* in the Night"
self-important blurb #2 -- probably having something to do with the WEATHER -- will go here: yep. we're having weather, alright.
special *howdy* to: my dear pal Sharlie [aka JOCHUCK] ... I'll wish you a happy birthday, but I absolutely REFUSE to give you a fluffy hug. xox
here's where i'll ask
a *relevant* question:
amazingly profound thought of the day: "It could be worse: they could be talking about pineapple rings again."