ms. fresh fish


Smarty Pants
March 19, 2007, 2:25 am
Filed under: events, ottawa, Willy

You could cut the tension with a knife in our home on Sunday night. On the line: Who has the higher IQ? We just, just avoided disaster by getting virtually the same score, so until next year’s re-match, the marriage remains intact. Close call. At one point during Test the Nation, we both wondered what were the chances of me coming out of this … experience… not crying. I don’t take losing very well, especially to Husband, especially on intelligence. I can tie, no problem. But not loose. Anyone who witnessed our month-long descension into darkness over daily score-keeping Jeopardy will understand the danger we face. But as it would turn it out, according to that little culturally-biased test, we actually have equal abilities overall, but most importantly in both logic and math – previously thought to be complete and utter write-offs for me.

Funny thing though, turns out you can have an “above average” IQ (as much as I wanted to be a genius, it would appear, surprise, surprise, that I’m not) and still make horrible concert decisions.

And that, logically, brings me to Meat Loaf.

I was already feeling a little under the weather on Friday, hence the last ditch effort to off-load my tickets, but I don’t think that really biased me. I would argue that the show was really, objectively, horrible. He has apparently lost his ability to sing, and in fact at one point made a joke about how he can’t always hit the right notes any more. Ha Ha. Good one. Nor can he keep up with the energetic pace for which his tunes are so endeared, leaving him to “sing” the first few words of a line, moan and groan for the middle and then inaudibly state the last word after it should have been SUNG. Instead of allowing him to essentially mangle the rest of the songs that I’d grown up loving, I made the executive decision to follow other disappointed fans’ leads and leave at intermission. I couldn’t believe that there was no other option. Readers of this blog who have been witness to my cheap-o confessions, will understand how hard that should have been for me. But it wasn’t. At all.

All I kept thinking about (besides the delicious beer nuts) was my grad school economics professor, Stephan Schott, arguing with my sensibilities in his lecture on sunk costs. It’s paid for, you can’t get it back, why keep punishing yourself if the money’s already gone, opportunity cost of the value of one’s time… and all that jazz. I think I may send him a message about this experience for other students who have difficulty with the concept.

Instead, we came straight home, put on Bat Out of Hell, which I then sang for Husband and Willy for the next 45 minutes. Well, if I were to be completely honest, I lost Husband after about 15 minutes leaving me an audience of one, stinky, blond Pomeranian named Willy but he does that adorable little head-cocking thing, so I couldn’t let him down by ending my show prematurely.

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1 Comment so far
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ahhh…so sorry to hear that. I know how much you were looking forward to it.

I guess it’s true that some things are better left in the past, where the memories can remain sweet. He ROCKED in 1993!!! (oh my god, 1993… 14 years ago…)

Comment by lolablue




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