Apparently in order to attend a Morrissey concert you should be smugly married or smugly gay and committed. However they don't ask you if you're either when you purchase tickets online from Ticketmaster, so that's how we managed to sneak by last night. I agreed to go to Morrissey before I had the chance to realize at some point during my adult life, I had gotten over The Smiths. I wonder when it was. And why I didn't notice. I have a suspicion it must have been this one time when I was smoking hella weed and watching Adult Swim on my couch in Providence and my roommate Will turned on Hateful of Hollow for the third time in a row, and I was like "If I have to listen to this one more time, I am going to have an EMOaneurysm which will shut off the blood supply to the rational part of my brain and I'll only be able to converse in sing-song Dashboard Confessional lyrics. Do not make me suffer that fate!!!"

Werthsies and I were in the nosebleed seats, and Gaby and Kat were on the floor. Before the show Friend and I grabbed a drink(s) at a nearby bar known on Yelp for it's "hot Dominican bartenders in dresses". We stayed too long at the bar but apparently not long enough to miss the opening act, which bleeeeew. Usually when I'm wasted I can get behind even the Toy Story Soundtrack, but this act was not passing. I texted Gaby.

"This peson sucks!"

"What is a peson?"

"You know. I luv you more than Jesus luved his puppy."

"This is terrible music."


The woman on stage, who by the way was Kristen Young, announced what I thought was "And this next song is called Nazi Cunninglingus"

I immediately texted, "Wait, I love her."

Gaby wrote back a while later: "I am overheating and everyone is old and yelling."

Today I've been searching these internets high and low and I can't find any song by Young entitled "Nazi Cunninglingus". So the jury, or my jury at least, is still out on that one. You wanna good blog review Kristen? Send me an mp3 of "Nazi Cunninglingus".


Morrissey is nearly 50. He walked a bit on stage. Sometimes he twirled his microphone cord. Often during the instrumentals he just bent over like the music was too much for him, or he had an ulcer, or he was preparing for anal. But it couldn't have been the latter; Morrissey is celibate!


Werthsies and I tried dancing but I kept slipping on our spilled Long Island Iced Tea (not my choice!). Then we started passing out Werther's to our surrounding emotards but we only managed to endear ourselves to one chubby gay couple, and a lonely hearted man with a New Jersey accent. That was fine though. It started to feel like we were part of a small nosebleed community. It was warm, and it was really hot temperature-wise.

My favorite part of the night was when Werthsies was telling me about her relatively new 4-month boyf, and how every time she takes an Ambien before bed she starts grilling him on his past relationships. So now at Ambien time, he's like, "omg, here comes the Spanish Inquisition", then they have sex, and he still falls asleep before her. I couldn't tell if this was supposed to be a funny relationship woe story or not, but it sounded kind of great to me. I was like, "Then do you Ambien binge eat at his apartment?!" and she was like, "Yeah, we wake up in the morning and the Ben & Jerry's is gone!" and I was like, "I want that! Love is binge-eating on Ambien at your new boyfriend's apartment!"