I fell in love with a bass lead guitar player, I fell in love with bass lead guitar player, I fell in love. Man. Nels Cline is the man. That dude can kick it like you wouldn’t believe. It’s like his possessed. It’s mesmerizing.

Wilco brought it tonight. (So did Andrew Bird but I’m not ready to talk about that yet and sadly there are no pictures because I was too busy trying to not moan in ecstasy to find my camera).

Wow. Yikes. It was good.

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Because of this momentous occasion I have pondered breaking out the patented, can’t lose Make Sweet, Sweet Love to Me Vibe™ Part of me thinks that I’ve just waited too long to even fire up the Vibe and then part of me is like “come on you act like you just go see Andrew Bird everyday.” This is, in fact, my first time ever witnessing Andrew Bird in concert. I can guarantee there will be crying. I am a goober.

I also worry about bringing out the Vibe with Jeff Tweedy in such close proximity. After the dream I had about the Wilco concert, I am not too keen on doing anything that might wind up with me discovering Jeff Tweedy has a vagina. Because of that dream I will only lust from afar.

Plus, well, let’s face it my mojo is not that strong. I haven’t had sex in a coon’s age and I should probably save up all the Make Sweet, Sweet Love to Me Vibe’s power for the upcoming Mike Doughty show at Bryant Lake Bowl. Right?

Oh my god, I cannot wait. If you don’t hear from me after today I probably either died of happiness or ran off with a rock and roller.

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HOLY SHIT! Andrew Bird + Jeff Tweedy in one night? I am not sure if my heart can handle that. As you well know both gentlemen have been long-time residents of the Imaginary Boyfriend List

This just proves that I was, in fact, right and that someone in the universe loves me and wants me to be happy.

Of course, because I am the bittersweetheart, I am convinced I will get hit by a bus sometime in December.

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INT. DARK BAR — NIGHT

A group of eight people, five men, three women sit on plastic chairs in a secluded area of a divey kind of bar. They are seated around two formica tables that have been pushed together. One row of people sit with their backs to the windows of the bar. The windows look out over a not really busy street of a midwestern city.

There are five different conversations going on around the table. Each person seems to be engaged in talking with the person directly across from them.

The jukebox blares Cheap Trick’s “Surrender” so everyone at the table seems to be shouting.

VODO a sparse hipster-looking guy with geek glasses sits across from JODI an abundant nerdy-looking girl in an orange sweater.

Vodo gestures like he’s interpretive dancing with only his hands.

Vodo sits back, crosses his arms and smirks.

Vodo shakes his head.

Jodi gives Vodo the finger

THE END

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Waking up this morning things were not much better. My e-mail was not overflowing with paeans to my beauty sent by men who want to have sex with me, I woke up singing “Louie, Louie,” and I still had to go to work.

But then I got to work and what should be awaiting me? The new Andrew Bird CD “Armchair Apocrypha” (you can download a track at More Cowbell), sent by a very kind man who shall remain nameless to protect the guilty.

My insides are like popping popcorn, and I’m still shaking with the joy of it. It’s good too! Wonderful, sensual, and the kind of music that you want to rub on your body. This is a delightful surprise, after being somewhat disappointed by the new Shins’ album “Wincing the Night Away.”

The only bummer? I have meetings all afternoon so I can’t listen to it over and over and over again until my heart bursts from my chest.

Another good thing? Caramelly, cinnamony, buttery, monkey bread in the toaster over. My work posse is probably the best thing to ever happen to work.

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