High-Maintenance? Or Just High?

Tonight I was reminded of why I haven't been to a Teddy and Marge show in a awhile.

"I like their music, and it's a really fun scene," I commented to Margie's friend Eric, who was sitting next to me on the concrete parking lot. "But none of the guys are cute."

"I know, right?" he said.

That's about all we agreed on, because I tend to prefer bearded, intellectual, white-collar guys who bathe frequently; and he likes the rebel type - guys who look as if they could be a little dangerous, he told me.

The girls at these shows, on the other hand, are natural beauties, assuming the ink is more or less organic. They're all wearing comfortable shoes. "One of Katie's friends was a little alarmed by your pit hair," I told Margie conversationally, before she started setting up for the show. "She went on and on about it."

Margie laughed. "I never even think about it anymore," she said.

"Do you shave?" Grady asked me - he's the "Teddy" in "Teddy and Marge," and Margie's boyfriend.

Hello! I'm wearing heels here!

So I always feel like a bit of a misfit at their shows.

Like most of the other people there, I bike to work, I get all my clothes from thrift stores, and I like the funky alternative music scene, aside from the cigarette smoke. But I think the biggest distinction between Margie and her friends and me isn't the tats, body hair, vegetarianism, or chain-smoking. It's the fact that they have no objection to using the restroom at the Opera House, even though it only has an old screen door with some tattered purple satin fabric covering most of the screening, and a hook and a nail in the doorjamb to hold it shut.

It's not that I'm too prissy to swill large quantities of Lone Star, honest. It's just that if I end up having to use the facilities, I'm going home.