I Like My Sugar With Coffee and Cream

Don’t worry. There are more Hometown Stories coming. Stay tuned for The One About My Friend’s Daughter Biting Kyle on the Knee, and The One Where We Clean Out My Parents’ Basement.

There is a place where thirtysomething adults can go to act like kids even though they are dressed like fairly hip grown-ups, and that place is a Beastie Boys concert. Last night, through some strange burst of serendipity, I took Uncle Fireman Kevin to see the Boys at the Greek Theatre in Los Angeles. I spotted the listing in the morning paper, logged on to Ticketmaster and nabbed tix even though the event was “sold out,” drove down through light traffic and arrived on time, slid into our well-placed parking spot, got a tasty Grande Corona, found our sweet seats, enjoyed the show, found our car and exited the parking area in about 5 minutes, and sailed through nonexistent traffic to arrive home by 11pm. !!!! It was as if God put a hand on my shoulder and said “You must attend tonight’s Beastie Boys concert, for it is time to get ill.”

I wanted to treat Uncle Fireman Kevin to something groovy because he’s been a trouper this past week. He watched Kyle Saturday night while I took Brady to a barbecue thrown by another L.A. blogger, to which I was invited by an eponymous L.A. blogger. Naturally, witty conversation ensued. At least I think it was witty. I am very sleep deprived so lots of my experience right now might be hallucination.

Kevin also watched both kids so Stewart and I could go see the Harry Potter movie Sunday night. Once we got over the presence of shirtless toddlers at a 7:10 PM showing of this pretty violent film, we were able to sit back and enjoy it. (We got over their presence by marching to the management and demanding that they be removed from the theater. I like kids, but not enough to deal with them at a movie that I could attend only by having a babysitter. I mean, come on. If I have to get a babysitter to go to the movies, so should you.) If you are not a well-read Potter fan who has not seen the past films, this film would make no sense at all. On the other hand, if you know what’s going on, the movie rocks!

When we got home from the movie, Kevin told me, as he panted and mopped his brow, about a “colossal dump” that Kyle produced while we were gone. Kyle said to him, “Uncle Kevin, I have poo.” At least he’s aware of it, and can communicate. Next step is to get the potty into that rotation.

So last night’s concert was the perfect “thank you.” We had such great seats that it would have only been better if we were in the box seats where you get tables and waitresses. The show was terrific. I’m not a huge Beastie fan, but I do like them, and I had a smile on my face the whole time. I was most entertained by the audience. The show seemed sold out indeed, and everyone was pumping a fist in the air and rocking out. Even the chic-ly dressed women, and that’s a funny sight. A trendy fashionista totally banging her head as if she wished she was in the mosh pit. I suppose a mid-thirties Valley housewife doing the same is just as funny, if not more so.

Of course in the spirit of the evening I had downloaded some choice tunes to play while we were stuck in the parking lot. Since we never got stuck, we jammed to the music as we sailed down the empty freeway. What could be better? You know you’re going to go score some “Intergalactic Planetary” as soon as you log off this page. Tell them I sent you and you’ll get a discount.

Not really.