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Missing you, 1999

June 12, 2009

The audio mixers at the Susquehanna Center (aka Tweeter Center aka Blockbuster Center) control the rain.

More on that later.

Last night, I did not cook. I did not vacuum. I did not unload laundry. I barely acknowledged the puppies.

Instead, per the lovely Bandhini’s instructions, I hightailed it down to the city via the 5:47, made it to Alfa in near-record time (you can run faster in sneakers), with the obligatory Walnut St shopping thrown in.

And after some pretty frickin awesome Mahi Mahi tacos, our twosome became a foursome and we jetted off for some No Doubt Reunion Tour.

This is a special band to me – their entire set list was a soundtrack to my formative years (and so many of my friends, and the husband). They were quitiessianial 90s band – little bit of ska, lots of funk, and so much rock. I’m not talking about the “dark period” of Ms. Stefani’s solo career. I mean the real stuff (Beacon Street…Tragic Kingdom…No Doubt…).

True, there was quite an influx of people there that were so not alive when Tragic Kindom came out. And there’s no frickin way a nearly-40 year old Gwen Stefani should have abs like that. This chick had 2 kids?! Inconceivable.

We were on the lawn, but somehow the rain that had been threatening all day had stayed away so we were actually on LAWN and not MUD. Brilliant, amazing, interesting, well-performed show. Just solid, all around, but these guys are pros. They didn’t just go for the hits (mostly, but not only), but they totally could’ve. Instead, they mixed it up, they were chatty but fun – like they were having a good time or something (why is that so frickin novel for bands of the 2000s to be all not having fun on stage…discuss).

But back to the rain thing: the MOMENT Gwen said goodnight, the rain started, and the SECOND that the lights went down, the skies unleashed bra-soaking amounts of water (where it goes right through the shirt and immediately to the skin) and everyone ran. Too bad for the encore, but you shouldn’t be able to time perfection like that.

The great pic of the husband running back to the car, shirtless, has been obmitted by request. Mainly because we all looked like drowned rats at the end of the night.

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