Rock, Lobster.

I am not prone to hero worship. I do not have an unspoken urge to be famous or even to get on television. I have rarely been starstruck, though I have waited on Kevin Spacey, Billy Corrigan, and Kurt Vonnegut (Okay, Vonnegut made me giddy, but I was outwardly cucumber-like), and I have met some fairly famous bands under various circumstances. And living in this town, you might imagine that one would have their share of encounters with 80's college rock icons. But last night was the first time I met The World's Nicest Rock Stars.
They were so fun, and very chatty, and they danced around and rocked out to Earl Greyhound, who are rock stars in their own right - or at least they're about to be. I was a tiny bit star struck by Fred Schneider. It took me a minute to decide if Kate Pierson was actually who I thought she was. Her hair was hot pink, but it was not in a beehive, and she is much shorter in person than I imagined.
All in all, a lovely evening, despite not being able to afford the My Morning Jacket show.