We are going to The Cure tomorrow, up across the border. I’m not sure if this is cool. DH thinks it is, but he’s the kind of guy who can sing the lyrics to EVERY SINGLE SONG on the face of the earth. Really. His favorite genre: every song from the ‘80s. Thus, when I found out that that The Cure would be near here, I knew we had to get tickets: just so I could go and watch him sing along to every word. True love, baby.
However, he's returning the affection:
In late summer A Prairie Home Companion is happening my town, and this made me so excited I may have even equated Garrison Keillor with The Cure: as in, the Keillor is as cool in my mind as the Cure is in DH's. Basically I'm an NPR addict all the way. Other shows that make me swoon/giggle hysterically: Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, or Say’s You.
Now that I've posted this DH is learning how to hide his head hole in the ground from an ostrich.*
Alas, I cannot stop.
What kinds of wine come to mind when you read the following clues: (snagged from Say’s You—which I had to listen to in the driveway, until it ended because I could not stop laughing):
1) Fake window glass
2) A deer in the doldrums
3) The tide’s out at Mer San Michelle
Oh, I am such a nerd. It’s spring, I met my deadline, and I get to go somewhere international tomorrow to eat yummy food and listen to music I’m unsure about with my long-eyelashed guy. Life is good.