In Love, in Tampa
by Scott Hardie on February 16, 2015
Last night we took in a special show by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman for Valentines Day. Kelly is a huge fan of both and I was happy to take her to see them.
I did not start the evening as a Palmer fan, but I was one by the time it ended. Her songs can be pretentious, self-involved, shrill, off-key -- all qualities that are off-putting at first that gradually become endearing. I particularly enjoyed her piano playing and wished for an instrumental number, but it wasn't in the cards.
I enjoyed Gaiman's comics back when I read comics, and I knew of his reputation as a very gifted storyteller otherwise. He doesn't have the best reading voice (and an even worse singing voice), but he certainly made do. His stories were touching and clever.
The best part of the show by far was the conversations with the audience, in the form of Q&A on notes dropped in a box in the lobby. Both stars have a mutual love affair with their fans, although Palmer's are far more extroverted (and prone to shouting things at her all night, as I learned). They improvised very funny answers to fan questions and showed a lot of personality. They were there to engage with the audience, not just put on a one-way show.
We arrived too late to have the planned dinner with friends in Tampa, so we sat shivering outside without jackets (boo hoo, right northern friends?) at a sidewalk bistro before showtime. I was on diet, so I just had to sit while Kelly ate hummus and tried to get it over with quickly. We walked around downtown Tampa a bit and found a shop selling all kinds of chocolates, the perfect spontaneous purchase on Valentines Day. Due to the show running past midnight and it already being a long drive to Tampa and back, we wound up having a ten-hour day trip. It was worth it.
Logical Operator
The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »
Falling Snow
It was twenty years ago today that my father passed away. I almost didn't write something today, because I don't feel particularly creative enough at the moment to do his memory justice. But a plain remembrance is better than none at all, and besides, he's been on my mind a lot this week. Go »Windbag
I don't know what Polaroids he has of whom, but somehow Tom Skilling has elevated himself to some kind of all-important weather-broadcasting god. When I grew up in Chicago, I watched him gradually get a bigger and bigger budget for his animated graphics, and gradually get a larger and larger timeframe to deliver his dull reports. By the time I left town, he had a whole 20 minutes of the hour-long midday newscast for the fucking weather, and boy did he find trivia to fill it: Average dew points across Cook County on this day in 1854, theta-e temperature predictions for every Cubs home game next season, you name it. Go »Crying in Baseball
Kelly and I won tickets to see a Tampa Bay Rays game in a deluxe suite last night. We've been excited about it for weeks, looking forward to a good game, good seats, and good food, all paid except the parking. What we got was a let-down. Go »401.8
Most people wouldn't find anything to celebrate in weighing four hundred pounds. But when you're above that and working your way down, and that number is as high as your scale will go, it's a good milestone to cross. I've weighed more than this for at least four years (how long I've had the scale), and it feels good to know that I've dropped whatever weight I've put on during that time. Go »Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring Ring, Banana Camera Phone
I need to get a camera phone. I keep seeing things that I want to take a picture of, but I don't bring my camera with me, and even if I did, I wouldn't be fast enough with it. Yesterday I pulled up behind a landscaping truck that had one of those "how's my driving?" Go »
