last night i took my sister and her friend to see FFTL. (HELLO – from first to last? what are you, lame?) The show was at a venue called the Living Room in Providence, RI – an establishment long renowned among the high school set for a lenient ID-check and a fabled marijuana lounge. I can safely say that neither claim bears merit, but i DEFINITELY CAN say that I am *SO* **NOT** in high school anymore. After a day of minor headaches I rushed to my parents’ house from a work meeting, decked out in Enzo Angolini heels paired with French Connection trousers, and begged my baby sister to “make me look hard core”. She tossed me a leather belt as I slaked on the eyeliner and topped it all off with some wierd castoff T-shirt from 5 years ago. I’ve never been the kind of person who is able to go into a situation and feel at ease – even after three years of Phish shows I could still spend an hour picking out the right tie-dye and bandana – but last night, miracle of miracles, I wasn’t worried. Even when we got to the venue, confronted with a bevy of size-zero, mod-haired hipsters (or “scene” people, as apparently they are called these days), I felt calm and – dare I say – above it all. Even though I wasn’t wearing the right clothes, even though I didn’t know the music – even though my HAIR was WAVY and i had NO VISIBLE TATTOOS, I was completely at home. I drank a beer or two, bopped around, moshed a bit in homage to my grung-ey days of yore, and was happy.

All truth told, though, the BEST part of the night happened at the merchandise table. The merch guy, who my 16 year old sister knows from MySpace, saw me drinking a beer and asked if I was really legal to buy booze.

“yeah”, i told him, “i’m 26.”

“seriously? you look their age” as he gestured to my sister and her friend.

“you also kind of look like Kimmie Gibbler”

Seriously. What am I supposed to do with that?