You might just be reading this because you linked here from my article on Shared Sacrifice. The blurb at the end promises inappropriate commentary about the show and the club.
I'll just cut to the chase. I have occasionally played in bands, and without exception, the bass player always gets hit on the most. Monday night in the Continental was no exception. But here's the deal: I am pretty sure Lone Stars bassist Gene Kurtz is either married or in a serious relationship (hardcore Lone Stars fans please correct me if I'm wrong). I mean, the guy did pen one of the hottest soul songs ever, "Treat Her Right." But even if he weren't, the two women hitting on him at Monday's show would have needed to be a heck of a lot better looking to get his attention. Having reasonable back seats doesn't compensate for having horse-faces. And to the brunette who did the "oh I need to fix my shoe trick" that even my very inebriated friend noticed: Sorry, but we all looked away. And not because we're gentlemen.
Why am I even remembering this? Because these ladies' awkward attempt to seduce a bass player, rather than ruining the night for me, only intensified the feeling that I had spent a quality evening in a club full of human fallability. Music like Dale's will do that to you.
"Ladies, I'm Gene *&%* Kurtz. Pleeeeeze!"
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