Yes, yes, I know--on a knitting blog, that title should refer to yarn. Sorry, not today.
Here's my current love interest:
Yes indeed--that's Billie Joe Armstrong, front man for Green Day. I saw Green Day this past Friday, live and in person, while taking my 12 YO (that's "year old," not "yarnover") to his very first real concert.
See, I'm a good mom. I know Green Day is cool. And I know I'm cool, because I love Green Day. So when 12 YO got the American Idiot cd as his very first cd with profanity (I don't believe we had such rites of passage when I was growing up) and he loved it, I knew I'd take him to see the band when they came to town.
But you know, sometimes it's hard to convince a 12 YO that his mom knows a thing or two about cool. First of all, the concert. He wasn't that excited. But then, the last concert I dragged him to was Maynard Ferguson at the local high school, which he thought was a total snore. Then I kept telling him I'd buy him a t-shirt. He'd roll his eyes, the same way he does when I say we need to buy school clothes. Kids will think it's cool, I said. You wear that shirt to school the week after the concert, believe me, it will be cool.
Sure, mom, he says, rolling his eyes.
Actually, I think he was worried about going with his mother. His first idea was that he'd go alone. Sure--a 12 YO on his own at XCel Centre for the first time. Umm, no. So then he suggested that he go with a friend. Hey, why not--because if there's anything better than one clueless 12 YO at XCel Centre by himself, it would be two clueless 12 YO's wandering around XCel by themselves. NO!
So the other mom and I banded together, bought tickets, and hauled our progeny to St. Paul Friday night. The minute my son laid eyes on the literally thousands of teens running around in their Green Day shirts, the old lightbulb went on: he had to have a shirt. No problem. Except for the vast numbers of people with the same idea waiting in line. But I'm a good mom. I waited in line, got some shirts (well, I had to have one too, plus there was Younger Brother sulking at home because he didn't get to go--sometimes the oldest has to have privileges based just on being older).
And 12 YO did see lots of other kids his age, mom and dad in tow, so his own cool factor wasn't totally threatened. But even then, I don't think he got it. After the opening band (Jimmy Eat World--ehh) finished, he kept asking, "What time is it supposed to start? Why haven't they started?" As if this was an opera at the Ordway, keeping a strict clock.
But when it began--hoo, boy. He is spoiled for concerts from now on. This was a rock concert in full rock concert glory. Mosh pit! People being handed over other people's heads! Fireworks! Flame throwers! Billie Joe hosing down the people in the front! Lots of F-words! A bass guitar got smashed (OK, that last one was by a member of the audience who had been invited up to play by Billie Joe--another lesson for 12 YO: if Green Day invites you on stage to play bass guitar, don't smash the guitar at the end. It would help if you limit the intake of certain substances before attending said concert)! A faked orgasm that made Meg Ryan look like a nun!
I will never forget the look of shock on his face when he realized his mom was singing along--not only did she know the lyrics, she WASN'T EDITING OUT THE NAUGHTY WORDS.
These are the times that make me revel in being a mother.
But while reveling in motherhood, I couldn't help reveling in Billie Joe. Yes, I'm a tad old for juvenile rock band crushes. But live young, I always say (or at least I'm saying now). Besides, this is what happens when you grow up listening to Debbie Boone--you regress later in life. He's just so damn cute. I love the eyeliner. I think maybe I need to use eyeliner like that, in tribute. It would probably raise eyebrows when I go to PTO meetings, but when one is in love, one does what one must. Oh, and hey! I never go to PTO meetings! Problem solved.
And the energy! The antics! The guttural speaking voice that sounded like Louie Armstrong on crack! The partial mooning! Oh, honey, bring it on. I'll knit you a thong any day--oops, did I say thong? I meant sock. Sock.
You know what I mean.
But c'mon, concert ploys aside, the guy has kids, and you can just tell he's a good dad:
And no, I did not sneak a camera in and take illegal pictures. I stole these from VH1, like any good blogger.
Tickets: $45 each plus Ticketmaster fees
T-shirts: $25 each
Bad stadium food: Don't remember--too much, whatever it was
Watching your preteen realize that his mom isn't totally clueless: Priceless
And me? Well, two hours of dancing in uncomfortable shoes lead, inevitably, to backaches and blisters the next day. I'm no spring chicken, like Billie Joe. And it took quite a while for my ears to stop ringing. As 12 YO said while exiting XCel, "Mom, it sounds like everyone's talking on helium."
But the next day, 12 YO put on his t-shirt and went out to play with friends, and I heard someone yell, "You got to go to Green Day last night? LUCKY!"
And guess which shirt he wore (freshly laundered) to school today?
And I'm left here, with only my Green Day cd's and t-shirt, to
lust after reflect on the fabulous Billie Joe. I just hope he never jumps off the Tallahatchee Bridge.
I'm not dating myself with that one, am I?