Nooow, I remember...
why I adore Hanson.
It's been so long since I wrote anything, I guess I'll just go with the basic chronological order on this review...
A couple months ago: Hanson announces a Louisville date. I grumble because it's at goofy Coyotes (a country honky-tonk of the highest order), tell Chelsea that unfortunately, she'll be too young to get in, so she needs to get an ID to borrow from a friend who's going to be at least 18 by then--preferably one that looks a little like her. She seems to understand the process (especially since we went through the same thing with a Teddy Geiger show back in the summer). We're all good.
A month ago: We have tickets in hand by now, and I remind Chelsea about the ID issue. She's on it.
3 weeks ago: Re-remind Chelsea about the ID issue. Yeah, she's on it.
2 weeks ago: LEO (Louisville Eccentric Observer) has an ad for the show saying to enter a contest to win tickets, and a second one to text the word "party" (do what?) to a number to win a VIP package including two tickets to the show, dinner for two, a limo ride, and a meet 'n greet. We can no longer text because the kids can't seem to get through to their friends that everytime they text "hi" or "what up dickhead" that it costs us money, so that feature has been cut off. I enter, and have Sonya enter as well (making a little phone call to our sales rep there, just to remind him that we reeeealy like Hanson). Rerere-remind Chelsea about ID. SHE'S ON IT!
10 days ago (or something like that--too late to do the math) we pack up to go to Florida and hear that Isaac is ill. I'm sad and I figure there's a 128% chance the show will be cancelled. I break the news to Sonya and she makes other plans (it's her husbands birthday anyway...)
6 days ago I randomly check Hanson.net and find out that Isaac is virtually indestructible (Yay, Isaac!) and has gone right back out on tour. Whoa, the show that isn't has become the show that is again. Rererere-remind Chelsea that the ID thing is getting really important now. "Alright!!! Dang!"
4 days ago, Chelsea, Atticus and I make the trek back home from Florida leaving David there to finish up some chores and fish himself to death. About 30 miles outside of Nashville, the tire blows all to hell. For some reason, we were in the slow lane so, it's all good. Until we attempt to find the jack. We call David via cell phone (he's in the middle of the ocean) and he informs us it's under the seat in the back. We find it and discover it's about as big around as my pinky (the handle part) and the other thing is about like, a paper towel roll, only shorter. Somehow, I'm supposed to be able to use these two things to jack up a two zillion pound 4 wheel drive Jeep SUV. I look back, thankful that Atticus is now like, 6 feet and always letting me know how strong he is.
Within 45 seconds I realize Atticus (at six feet tall) is nothing but a big baby. Plan B: Mommy will figure this out. After three aborted attempts (one which seems to actually bend the underneath of the car) I have Chelsea call AAA. "How do you do that?" *sigh*
AAA--"Someone will be there within 30 to 45 minutes"
Chelsea: "Okay."
Me: "Oh man, it's 99 thousand degrees. But, whatever, we gotta get it."
1 hour and 20 minutes later after having to get out the portable DVD player to keep the little babies happy (Supernatural Season two) I call.
Me: "Um, what happened to 30 to 45 minutes? We're going on an hour and a half and I'm going to run out of oxygen here. What am I paying you for?"
AAA--"Let me check, ma'am." Let it be known that I HATE to be called Ma'am.
Me: Whatever.
3 minutes later--
AAA: "He should be pulling up any second."
Me--look in rear view mirror and see twenty-something, shaved head fart with a big old fountain drink get out of his truck. "Yeah, ok, he's here. Thanks." (no exclaimation point for you!!!!)
I get out, ask him if jacks like this are actually supposed to work. He informs me they actually do and I really want to hit him with it and act surprised at how well it really does work. But, I don't. I watch him with his fancy jack (with the up and down, sensible handle). He has to put it like three different places before it works, but soon we're in business. He takes off the old tire (we'd already gotten the lugs off :) It rolls down in the ditch and he says "Go chase that for me."
WTF??? I do him the biggest favor anyone has or ever will do for him and pretend I don't hear him.
Fast forward to 2 days ago:
Leo informs me I've won two Hanson tickets!!! Of course, I'd already purchased two long ago (gotta support my band).
Craziness ensues as Sonya and I decide who to give our three extra tickets to (the ho hadn't bought hers yet!!)
1 day before show:
Me: "Chelsea, did you get Laura's ID?" (Laura is her friend Katy's sister. She's 19 and has long dark hair and brown eyes and isn't a giant--it's a good match)
Chelsea: "No."
Me: "What do you mean 'no'?"
Chelsea: "Katy didn't call me back."
Me: "!@$%#@^&)((*&^$%$@."
And I thought I was a lazy procrastinator. Ha! I have nothing on my daughter!!
NEXT ENTRY: SHOW DAY!!!!!!
It's been so long since I wrote anything, I guess I'll just go with the basic chronological order on this review...
A couple months ago: Hanson announces a Louisville date. I grumble because it's at goofy Coyotes (a country honky-tonk of the highest order), tell Chelsea that unfortunately, she'll be too young to get in, so she needs to get an ID to borrow from a friend who's going to be at least 18 by then--preferably one that looks a little like her. She seems to understand the process (especially since we went through the same thing with a Teddy Geiger show back in the summer). We're all good.
A month ago: We have tickets in hand by now, and I remind Chelsea about the ID issue. She's on it.
3 weeks ago: Re-remind Chelsea about the ID issue. Yeah, she's on it.
2 weeks ago: LEO (Louisville Eccentric Observer) has an ad for the show saying to enter a contest to win tickets, and a second one to text the word "party" (do what?) to a number to win a VIP package including two tickets to the show, dinner for two, a limo ride, and a meet 'n greet. We can no longer text because the kids can't seem to get through to their friends that everytime they text "hi" or "what up dickhead" that it costs us money, so that feature has been cut off. I enter, and have Sonya enter as well (making a little phone call to our sales rep there, just to remind him that we reeeealy like Hanson). Rerere-remind Chelsea about ID. SHE'S ON IT!
10 days ago (or something like that--too late to do the math) we pack up to go to Florida and hear that Isaac is ill. I'm sad and I figure there's a 128% chance the show will be cancelled. I break the news to Sonya and she makes other plans (it's her husbands birthday anyway...)
6 days ago I randomly check Hanson.net and find out that Isaac is virtually indestructible (Yay, Isaac!) and has gone right back out on tour. Whoa, the show that isn't has become the show that is again. Rererere-remind Chelsea that the ID thing is getting really important now. "Alright!!! Dang!"
4 days ago, Chelsea, Atticus and I make the trek back home from Florida leaving David there to finish up some chores and fish himself to death. About 30 miles outside of Nashville, the tire blows all to hell. For some reason, we were in the slow lane so, it's all good. Until we attempt to find the jack. We call David via cell phone (he's in the middle of the ocean) and he informs us it's under the seat in the back. We find it and discover it's about as big around as my pinky (the handle part) and the other thing is about like, a paper towel roll, only shorter. Somehow, I'm supposed to be able to use these two things to jack up a two zillion pound 4 wheel drive Jeep SUV. I look back, thankful that Atticus is now like, 6 feet and always letting me know how strong he is.
Within 45 seconds I realize Atticus (at six feet tall) is nothing but a big baby. Plan B: Mommy will figure this out. After three aborted attempts (one which seems to actually bend the underneath of the car) I have Chelsea call AAA. "How do you do that?" *sigh*
AAA--"Someone will be there within 30 to 45 minutes"
Chelsea: "Okay."
Me: "Oh man, it's 99 thousand degrees. But, whatever, we gotta get it."
1 hour and 20 minutes later after having to get out the portable DVD player to keep the little babies happy (Supernatural Season two) I call.
Me: "Um, what happened to 30 to 45 minutes? We're going on an hour and a half and I'm going to run out of oxygen here. What am I paying you for?"
AAA--"Let me check, ma'am." Let it be known that I HATE to be called Ma'am.
Me: Whatever.
3 minutes later--
AAA: "He should be pulling up any second."
Me--look in rear view mirror and see twenty-something, shaved head fart with a big old fountain drink get out of his truck. "Yeah, ok, he's here. Thanks." (no exclaimation point for you!!!!)
I get out, ask him if jacks like this are actually supposed to work. He informs me they actually do and I really want to hit him with it and act surprised at how well it really does work. But, I don't. I watch him with his fancy jack (with the up and down, sensible handle). He has to put it like three different places before it works, but soon we're in business. He takes off the old tire (we'd already gotten the lugs off :) It rolls down in the ditch and he says "Go chase that for me."
WTF??? I do him the biggest favor anyone has or ever will do for him and pretend I don't hear him.
Fast forward to 2 days ago:
Leo informs me I've won two Hanson tickets!!! Of course, I'd already purchased two long ago (gotta support my band).
Craziness ensues as Sonya and I decide who to give our three extra tickets to (the ho hadn't bought hers yet!!)
1 day before show:
Me: "Chelsea, did you get Laura's ID?" (Laura is her friend Katy's sister. She's 19 and has long dark hair and brown eyes and isn't a giant--it's a good match)
Chelsea: "No."
Me: "What do you mean 'no'?"
Chelsea: "Katy didn't call me back."
Me: "!@$%#@^&)((*&^$%$@."
And I thought I was a lazy procrastinator. Ha! I have nothing on my daughter!!
NEXT ENTRY: SHOW DAY!!!!!!