In Which I Confess Something Shameful...

Okay, so you guys know that on 1 November, I went to a Rush concert with my brother Matt (one of my favorite bands and one of my favorite people) and it was great music and much fun and I loved the whole day and I was very happy.  It was way overdue and thoroughly fantabulous.

Post-concert, I emailed Matt thusly:  I feel pretty stupid for saying to you Thursday that I didn't think I'd heard Rush do '2112 Overture' live before, b/c after looking through their tour dates and set lists, apparently they played it the first 3 times I ever went to see them.

And I was sure - SURE! that one of the times I'd seen Rush was at the Omni with [Matt's cousin] Michelle, and I remembered so many details:  she was dating this guy named Brian who went to Tucker High, her friend Melinda and Melinda's boyfriend "Steamboat Jerry" went with us, she fixed me up with one of Brian's friends named Andy - and the whole reason I agreed to go was, it was a Duran Duran concert for the 'Seven and The Ragged Tiger' tour, and they all wanted to see Duran Duran but I said okay because they were opening for Rush and I wanted to see Rush.

Except as I was looking through tour dates/venues/set lists, apparently Duran Duran never opened for Rush. I've narrowed it down and the concert I went to with Michelle was in March 1984 at the Omni and it was Duran Duran, with opening act, The Swinging Richards.

Which means I went to Duran Duran voluntarily.

Or at least under peer pressure.

Or because the Andy guy had a cool car.  Since obviously my memory, of which I was SO SURE, cannot be trusted, I have decided to remember that Andy had a 1968 SS Camaro.

Because the otherwise is UNTHINKABLE!, that I actually went willingly, knowingly and without bribery to a Duran Duran concert.

This cannot be.

It simply CANNOT be.

I consulted one of my besties, Nancy, who was no help, in that she simply corroborated my horror story!  She writes, "I remember the guy named Brian that Michelle was dating, but I don't remember you telling me about going to see Duran Duran (or Rush) with them. I *vaguely* remember a guy you met through them - he was kind of cute, if I recall. There must have been a reason for you to see Duran Duran voluntarily, but your subconscious rejected it and overwrote it with Rush."  Well!  Kind of cute!  I guess that's something...I'll have to go with that, though I'm pushing for the '68 Camaro.

Later, me and Alan, discussing my upsetting internet discovery:

Me: You can't tell anybody!
Alan: You already told everybody.  You've told people for years that you went to Duran Duran.

Me:  But it was excusable and they understood because they think I did it to see Rush!  Just going for because I wanted to go, or for the sake of going...no...it's awful...why did I do that?  Did I even do that?  I couldn't have!  Well...but...I must have done...okay, so, well...[pause]  you can't tell anybody!

Alan:  No one would believe me.  YOU?!?  Duran Duran?!?  No.

Me:  Because if you tell, then I'll have to kill you and it will be a big mess.  Setting up an alibi, disposing of the body, disposing of evidence, getting rid of the murder weapon...

Alan:  That's it?  That's why?  Disposing of the murder weapon would be a pain in the ass?

Me:  Yes.  Well maybe also probably I'd miss you.

Alan:  Thank you, sweetheart.

Me:  You aren't going to tell, are you?

Alan:  Of course not, sweetheart.

Obviously, you can see why I married him.

Then, feeling nostalgic, I started searching the nether regions of closet corners and the dank, deserted corners of guest-room chests of drawers, and I found:

POWER WINDOWS, BITCHES!!!

...and no, I'm not wearing pants.

Then I emailed Bo and Matt:  "Signals, bitches, SIGNALS.Y'all excuse me while I go take my Geritol."

Do they even still make Geritol?

Don't tell me.  I don't wanna know.