there’s a core of us who go to grumpy’s every single week after class (mike, ken, me, and kelly). three of the last four weeks, we’ve been joined by a woman i call Jags (because she drives a fucking jag).
so last night as we waited for the bill, i asked the vodo if karaoke was like his chance to live out his fantasy of being a rockstar. he kinda grinned and nodded. he asked if i ever wanted to be a rockstar and i said no. kelly added that i’d like to sleep with a rockstar, which i could not deny.
somehow we got onto the subject of meeting rockstars. the vodo and i talked about how we would never, ever want to meet westerberg. i told him about how i almost met him and then chickened out, but took his picture. then the vodo told us how he had met Bob Mould at the CBGB’s equivalent of the 7th Street Entry during a reading of the book Our Band Could Be Your Life.
suddenly Jags pipes up with how she met Husker Du back in the day when they played the Longhorn. and it was one of those moments where our heads turned so fast toward her that our necks actually snapped.
“the longhorn?” i screeched. yes, i actually screeched.
“wow, that’s old school,” the vodo said.
the longhorn is legendary in the minneapolis music scene.
“oh yeah,” she said. “we used to go there all the time.”
she went on to tell us about how iggy pop was really polite and pulled out a chair for her. how she met elvis costello and used to hang out with all the guys from the suburbs. how meeting the talking heads was her absolute favorite. kelly, the vodo, and i were hunched over our chairs leaning towards Jags so we wouldn’t miss a word. it was awesome. none of us spoke for awhile, we just listened.
“you met iggy pop and elvis costello and you’re just telling us now?” kelly asked.
“i didn’t think anyone would care,” jags said.
“we listen to this one talk about social studies and shit,” i said, pointing my thumb in kelly’s (kelly, who incidentally, has the most boring life ever according to Salinger) direction. “we want to know everything.”
man, the longhorn. i was so jealous i could have eaten my fist.
I thought it was Costello that pulled the chair out for her??
And yeah, weeks we’ve known this woman and she tells us nothing.
Salinger can blow me.
nope it was iggy. i asked her about it again when we were walking back to the loft.
See, I was getting confused with all the HUGE names being dropped there. Mindblowing.
Jags is so fucking cool.
You know, one of your “new best” friends is a retired rockstar.
But you didn’t know me “when” so that probably doesn’t count.