The Oh Gee

It would be impossible not to draw comparisons between the Belle and Sebastian show I attended Thurs. night and the last time I saw them in '98. I was sick and spaced out on cold medicine both times, but similarities end there. This time I wasn't 26, by myself, and I didn't randomly bump into Henry Thomas. I had met up with a couple friends beforehand at the much hated on Times Square Olive Garden (I do wistfully recall H.T. walking me up to the subway entrance right next to the OG) and only ate half my chicken alfredo pizza because I'm trying to practice portion control, which is really painful for me. But what I hadn't considered is that this left me with a giant brown Olive Garden bag. And the weather had turned icy and slushy that afternoon, so instead of trudging in my gray flats with pink and white polka dotted ribbon, I put on the giant puffy white marshmallow boots I happened to have in my desk drawer from the last snow storm (they're not Uggs, ok?) because being 33 is about comfort and practicality. So, I'm all sweaty (I don't know if it's the medicine or if I'm feverish), coughing up phlegm (and not anthropomorphic mucus, either) snow boot-clad and carrying chain restaurant leftovers like a total ragamuffin dork who's given up on life. And to add insult to injury, I had to pay $2 extra on top of the standard $3 charge to check my OG bag with my coat. At least I had on my twee Target cardigan (intentionally a size too large. I just can't get into-aesthetically or physically-those miniature hoodies that are popular with the kids lately. Unless you're tiny, yourself, it just looks like your clothes are too small). I didn't realize the true tweeness of it until I ended up in face to face meeting with a couple VPs (one who I'm sure is younger than me) about CEO positioning (I think it's beyond twisted that someone making a library salary is given the task of making someone who earns millions a year look good by analyzing the competition and strengthening the client's platform) and it struck me that I was not dressed for success (never mind all the cat hair covering said sweater, despite cleaning it with a damp cloth and using masking tape before leaving the house). What was also different was that despite still putting "no cameras" on the tickets, every one was snapping camera phone shots (and texting and talking on their phones while simultaneously bopping up and down). Amusingly, they opened with "Stars of Track and Field" and by the time they got to the line "Have you and her been taking pictures of your obsessions?" flashes were going off like crazy. Dude, I totally photoblogged the show. Technology was so sad in '98 (maybe it wasn't the technology as much as myself) that I actually had a $9 (non-disposable) plastic camera that was so busted the film didn't even catch and all photographic evidence of ever hanging out with The Hankster was never to be. This time I had my digital camera (no Treo, no Blackberry) on hand just in case, but the urge to capture memories by the pixel never struck. Perhaps Belle and Sebastian will still by plying their trade in another seven years and I'll be able to revisit this scene when I'm 40 and really scare the shit out of myself.

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