So, guess where I was last nite? At Roseland seeing Social Distortion. Jealous?

Heh, but seriously, it was a great show. It was a show that, in all respects, I wish I had seen when I was 16, which is approximately the last time I listened to SD in earnest. The crowd was 80% male, and 50% superhot in a way that would have made my 16-y-o self moist with desire. (Actually, I still find rockabilly guys attractive, but much less so, given that so many of ’em seem to be Bush supporters. But I digress.) It was a strange, though not surprising mix of people: punks/rockabilly types, frat boys, and guys in pleated Dockers. My 16-y-o self would’ve poured my soda down those Dockers, but the 29-y-o me was content to sneer in their general direction. One of them thought I was flirting with him or something and kept trying to catch my eye for the rest of the night. Note to self: Learn to sneer better.

When P and I arrived at the show we walked back to the bar and I jokingly said, “This is a crowd that would buy us drinks all night.” And then, as if to prove that the universe is as crass and sexist as I am, three guys approached us, all of whom were named Matt. Matt 1 worked in cryogenics, Matt 2 was unemployed, and Matt 3 was a pilot. All three were from Allentown. Matts 1 and 3 were voting for Bush, though Matt 1 said that he’d promised to vote for Kerry in exchange for a soup recipe.

They offered to buy us drinks using the time-honored tradition of “I’m going to make you drink something you’re frightened of.” In this case: Old Grandad. Ick.

“No way, I don’t drink that shit, it makes you sterile,” I told them with absolute certainty. Though really, I don’t drink it because it’s fucking awful. I don’t care what Jack Kerouac said.

Still, two seconds later, P and I found ourselves throwing back shots of Old Grandad and trying not to projectile vomit. Matts 1 and 2, sensing that they were getting nowhere with us using this tactic (Which is true: I’ll drink anything alcoholic if you tell me you think I can’t/won’t. My biggest error? Galliano.), dumped Matt 3 and headed to the stage. Matt 3–actually a pretty nice guy for a Bush supporter–was telling us about being a pilot. Then he admitted that he wasn’t a big SD fan and that Matts 1 and 2 had dragged him here. “I’m too old for rock shows,” he said.

“Wait a minute. How old are you?” I spat.
“28. How old are you guys?”
“33.”
“29.”
“Oh,” he said, and 5 seconds later, “Well, you ladies have a good night and enjoy the show.”

Dissed and dismissed for being geriatric! And called a lady! That hurt. We should’ve weaseled more drinks out of them before our Fixodent loosened.

Oh, and for those who care about the MUSIC: SD put on a great show, and I was surprised to recognize fully 75% of their set–they must’ve played older stuff? They ended with Ball and Chain and encored with Nickel and Dime and something else I don’t recall because at that point it was 110 degrees in Roseland and I was itching to pee.
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