Seeing Morrissey in Richmond was so unusual and out of place, but awesome, like eating birthday cake in a bathtub.   I was a little nervous about the concert because people are so into Morrissey that he is the kind of public figure who gets shot.  Nothing like that happened, though.  We saw the show with Jess, who is an old pal of Richard’s and also my height.  Tall men kept making a point to move three feet closer to the stage by standing in front of us.  When that wasn’t happening we were constantly being swept aside to let through a stream of people who couldn’t sit still for one second.   Short girls are the drawbridges on society’s river.  Just move through us, aholes, it’s not like we’re watching some beefy Irishman sing some songs.

Jess won a special place in my heart when the umpteenth person stood right in her way and she shouted “Really?  Come on!” and he immediately startled, apologized, and moved.  Then she maybe/maybe not accidentally poured the rest of her drink down back of another guy.

It was a good show.  If Morrissey played ten minutes away from my house again I would go.

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