It's Official: I Know Nothing.
During a particularly uncultured moment (I think I was watching Survivor and eating my third slice of pepperoni pizza with bacon) I decided that MB and I should rejoin society and go to a more sophisticated event than "Thursday Night, Same Couch, Same Channel". Although infinitely popular with my tushie, sitting down and watching the world go by was definitely lowering my IQ (I now watch America's Funniest...and laugh...something had to be done). Anyhoo, so that's how MB and I ended up at a string quartet concert last night. Primo seats (score) and a steak dinner beforehand should make this a night for the annals, surely?
Me: Oh honey, do you remember when we went to our first string quartet?
MB: How could I forget? Your IQ went up 20 points that night, and you instantly got that job that pays you $70,000 to ruminate on the meaning of life.
Me: And then we got married and lived happily ever after!
Both: *simper*
Let me preface the next part by saying that the string quartet was very pretty. They sure...played those instruments...well...I think? Ok, ok, I just didn't get it. I don't get it. There, I've said it, I'm an evil, uncultured mush-for-brains plebian. Seriously, it all sounds great, but there was a whole system to the thing that I couldn't get. The quartet walks in, bows, bows again, sits, plays, it's pretty, they finish and nobody claps. I thought there should be clapping. I was almost that person, you know, the one who claps once really loudly before realizing that you aren't meant to clap. Then they play, finish, no clapping, play, finish, no clapping, play, finish, and then everyone claps. I guess I didn't receive the clapping memo. It was like being in Church and not knowing when to sit, stand, kneel or do the congo (ok, that's just my Mum's church). And the people were all so odd. Actual statement heard from man in line at coat check:
"Well, I found that the markings on the third Beethoven movement were both funerial and sad".
Clearly, I am outclassed. I am now relegated back to the couch, where I shall watch the Survivor I missed on Saturday. I'm ordering in KFC.
Me: Oh honey, do you remember when we went to our first string quartet?
MB: How could I forget? Your IQ went up 20 points that night, and you instantly got that job that pays you $70,000 to ruminate on the meaning of life.
Me: And then we got married and lived happily ever after!
Both: *simper*
Let me preface the next part by saying that the string quartet was very pretty. They sure...played those instruments...well...I think? Ok, ok, I just didn't get it. I don't get it. There, I've said it, I'm an evil, uncultured mush-for-brains plebian. Seriously, it all sounds great, but there was a whole system to the thing that I couldn't get. The quartet walks in, bows, bows again, sits, plays, it's pretty, they finish and nobody claps. I thought there should be clapping. I was almost that person, you know, the one who claps once really loudly before realizing that you aren't meant to clap. Then they play, finish, no clapping, play, finish, no clapping, play, finish, and then everyone claps. I guess I didn't receive the clapping memo. It was like being in Church and not knowing when to sit, stand, kneel or do the congo (ok, that's just my Mum's church). And the people were all so odd. Actual statement heard from man in line at coat check:
"Well, I found that the markings on the third Beethoven movement were both funerial and sad".
Clearly, I am outclassed. I am now relegated back to the couch, where I shall watch the Survivor I missed on Saturday. I'm ordering in KFC.
posted by Jennifer @ 8:40 a.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home