Looks like I've got a little window in the work-related shit storm, so I have time to tell you one more quick little story from this weekend's charity event (scroll down to get the background if you haven't read already):

After the show, we were loading our gear out out of the hotel ballroom when a woman in a cocktail dress - whom I recognized from her enthusiastic if arhythmic dancing in front of the stage earlier in the evening - stops me and says, "Hey, it's the band. I'm a drunken fan."

As I laughed and thanked her, she threw her arms out, gesturing for me to give her a hug. I looked at her and shrugged. Sure, why not? You guys know me - I'm always up for a friendly hug.

When I moved in to give her a chummy squeeze, she whispered in my ear, "Yeah, get your sweat all over me." Jesus fucking Christ. She was getting this excited over the bassist in a cover band. I smiled politely and beat a hasty retreat. Freaked me the fuck out.

Oh, she was like 60, by the way. Just thought I'd add that ever-important little tidbit into the story.

I doubt I'll have a chance to update the rest of the week, so have a nice weekend, all.