I guess what's hit me over the head like a huge mallet this past Saturday at the She Wants Revenge show, is that i'm officially old, and i'm just an all-around cranky person. I'm like Oscar The Grouch, furrowing his brow and slamming his lid shut when someone attempts to engage him. It's not that I strive to be -- I just can't contain it in certain situations. I have zero patience for people, I think. Well, maybe it's people younger than me, and/or people less self-aware.

You see, the thought of having to stand through the whole set bummed me out from the get-go. I knew it was going to be a tight fit since it was sold-out. As per usual, one of the tallest guys in the venue planted himself directly in front of me, so I had to watch with my head all cocked to one side, which resulted in a stiff neck the next day, thank you. The same tall guy, his friend, and his girlfriend were all totally tanked and dancing wildly as if they had the room in the world to do so, and kept bumping me and stepping all over my gorgeous, super-pointy Nine West boots. The girl beside me was snapping pics left and right with her camera phone and immediately texting them to her friends with little messages like, "What do you think of this one?," and I just wanted to ask her WHY this live music and this band that she's apparently a big fan of, a mere 10 ft. away from us, was not entertainment enough for her. Can't one just be in the moment?

I was so hot, I thought I was going to collapse at one point. It was so loud, my ears were reverberating and I couldn't stop thinking about how great it would be to have earplugs. The lead singer indulged himself with an oration on the different types of audiences in Canada, reprimanding us that we were not enthusiastically clapping along with him, nor dancing enough. Well how am I going to clap, Justin, with my hands above my head when I can't move move an inch? If I could move an inch, I would... if for no other reason to get away from this guy who while gyrating madly against his girlfriend is essentially gyrating against me, too. How violating! And who would hold my fabulous black-leather-and buckles clutch, pray tell??? There's no strap! It's not gonna hold itself!

a/g says that to enjoy the concert experience, especially in such a cozy venue, one must be sufficiently drunk so as to be unaware of the other patrons. She may have a point there -- that's definitely a feasible strategy... but what if I don't want to be? Do I really have to? Can't everyone just respect their own space and keep within a reasonable perimeter and not flail around with limbs every-which-way, gyrating like animals? I mean, I enjoyed the performance in itself, believe it or not -- I did. I even enjoyed the two openers. Because I heart live music -- I do. I heart discovering new bands, and witnessing a show. But I'm just a grouch, I guess. I am. As much as I dislike admitting it. I'm no longer fun-loving and kick-my-heels-up cuz it's all all-about-me and my reckless abandon. But strangely (hypocritically?), if given the chance to go again, same venue, same band, same crowd, I would go. Because I love the SWR album. Because I love a night out. And I suspect that what I heart more than anything is to complain about being old and cranky. And a grouch. Hmn. Go figure. Now go away.