Bob Schneider last week at Trees was amazing! He rocked more than he folked out, which was a surprise, but the experience left me weak in the knees.

I never understood the behavior of some music fans. Like original Beatles fans, or Michael Jackson fans, for example. Falling over and crying and screaming in hysterics simply because their idol is up on the stage. That kind of physical reaction was lost on me.

Until now.

I enjoy Bob’s music. However, to have called me a Bob psycho would have been a gross exaggeration. But last Thursday, for the first time, I reacted physically to a musician onstage. Bob is an incredibly magnetic and captivating man. Smokey gaze, brilliant smile, funny and beautiful, I had more fun watching Bob do his thing than that time I accidentally sat on my vibrating pager. He works hard on that stage. Bob gets very sweaty and spitty, and I swear, at one point, he accidentally spit on me and I almost melted into the floor.

. . . . . . . . . . . . *sigh*

Oh, and the music was flawless, great, and it was the best show I’ve ever had the priviledge to witness.

Anyway . . . *whew* Is it warm in here to you?

Well, a HUGE thanks to Amy for being a hot chick who can get to the front of the stage without incident; because of you, I ended up pressed against the stage a heart-stopping five feet away from Bob’s . . . um, guitar.

Man, it is hot in here!

Holls

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