Pregnancy is like rehab, in that one is forced to detox during participation. Similar to a rehab facility like Promises, my kitchen is now devoid of cheap wine and cases of Labbats. I imagine that a communal TV is also the focal point of activity at Promises, except for maybe when Linsday Lohan stops by.
So what did I do this Saturday night, you may ask? Why, watch TV of course. I almost peed myself when I saw that the Bay Area PBS station was broadcasting the Crowded House set from the Austin City Limits festival earlier this year. This summer, I flew to NYC to see them play two shows, then the following week flew home from a trip to LA on a 6 AM flight to catch their show that night in Chicago. They were three of the best shows anywhere ever, and there was me, each time, in a tight shirt, jumping up and down in true House of Pain fashion. A beer in one hand, waving frantically at the stage with the other, I screamed at Neil Finn like a teenager, hoping he would pull me up on stage to dance with him like Springsteen did with Courtney Cox in the Dancing in the Dark video. Now fast forward a few months, and there was me, at home in my yoga pants, a lemonade in one hand, holding my chest with the other because it now hurts to bounce, singing with Neil on the TV.
Good times.
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About Me
- Stace
- Eccentric realist, nested crazywoman, broad-minded obstinate, centered scatterbrain
2 comments:
i'm not sure which picture of you dancing to crowded house better--both are great!!
Here's where being 33 gets confusing: Because not only were we jumping up and down in our boob shirts, screaming for Neil Finn to get naked with us and fantasizing about what his hair must feel like, we were also grateful that the shows were at the Beacon because it has seats.
Ah well.
But we did have a mighty time. I'm sad I wasn't there to watch the Austin City Limits show on TV with you. Yoga pants, lemonade, breast-holding and Crowded House sounds like the perfect night in.
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