Dork-o-Rama: The Random Thoughts of a Total Goofball

Embracing the Dork Side....Because Life is Too Short to Take Yourself Too Seriously

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Misty, water-colored memories...

Taking my friend Sherri’s daughter Anais to her first DMB concert got me thinking about the first concert I went to… and it’s more proof of just what a Dork I really am.
Can you guess who I saw?
It was 1978.
Disco was big.
His older brothers were huge (not in stature – in the industry..) .
Do I really want to admit to this? It’s actually an early sign that I would forever love cheesy things …a subject I might come back to another day.
My first concert… was Andy Gibb.
Yes. You heard me.
Give me a break – I was 13! Going on 14! He was adorable! Come on. If you grew up in that era, you thought so too. You know you did.
I don’t even remember much about the show, though I’m pretty sure he was wearing some shiny, satiny pants. They were the uniform of the day, after all. And I remember laughing with my friend Julie about the girls around us who were SOBBING through the whole thing. What’s that about? Now, you know I’m as obsessive a fan as there is when it comes to my favorite performers, but I have never… NEVER… wept at the sight of them. (Okay, a certain Latin singer took my breath away, but I DID NOT CRY. And that was just a few years ago. Ahem.)
I remember well the negotiations about getting to the concert – and every other concert until I could drive -- as in, “My mom will drive if your dad will pick us up.” The cry of the suburban teen. How did our parents stand it?

Do I get any credibility points for my second concert? I saw Heart, later that same year.
This wasn’t the corporate-influenced, unduly glammed-out Heart you saw in those crappy videos in the 80’s… but the kick-ass sisters who led a kick-ass rock and roll band with great harmonies in the 70’s. And they kicked ass. I wanted to be Ann Wilson, and when some drunk and/or stoned guy sitting near us told me I looked like her… well, I was over the moon…especially since I did NOT look like her. At all. Okay, again, with the dark hair. I guess everyone in San Diego thinks there’s just one person in town with dark hair. Sherri, me, Ann Wilson…

That night also gave me my first experience with pot smoke, much like Anais experienced this weekend. And I’m NOT JUST SAYING THIS because my mom is reading (Hi mom!), but I am almost positive the reason I’ve never tried the stuff is because it smelled like burning skunk ass to me at 14.
Not that I know what a skunk’s burning ass smells like. I may be a dork, but I don’t go around smelling skunk asses on purpose, and I’ve certainly never set one on fire. Bleah.

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