Fragile

So I checked my StatCounter yesterday and found that someone got my blog by Googling "sting performance narragansett beach." Thinking, "yeah, right" I went on my merry way. And, tangentially, I'd like to welcome all the Hazel Mae and Maria Stephanos mammary gland lovers to my site.

But, it turns out, Sting ACTUALLY PERFORMED A DAMN SHOW, FOR FREE, ON THE BEACH IN NARRAGANSETT, RHODE ISLAND AND I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT IT UNTIL YESTERDAY.

Just as the sun went down, the British musician stepped out on the concert stage in the backyard of the Sandcastle-by-the-Sea mansion and faced a crowd of hundreds of ecstatic beachgoers.

Guitar in hand, Sting immediately launched into "Message in a Bottle," bringing people to their feet. On the water dozens of boats loaded with people bobbed. A half-moon hid behind clouds. Spectators waded, danced on beach blankets, and sang to the lyrics "a hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore."

People! This is the information age. Why didn't somebody TELL ME? How was I not warned? Why didn't my mother call me? I HAVE READERS IN RHODE ISLAND!! YOU WERE SLACKING, PEOPLE! SLACKING! I would have cancelled all my loosely made plans to book it down to Rhode Island, steal my brother's car and loiter on the beach for hours to see my beloved in such an intimate, romantic setting. I COULD HAVE BECOME STING'S CONCUBINE, BUT INSTEAD I AM STILL AT WORK. THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE.

I'm sorry to yell. But the next time Sting, Kelly Clarkson, the Indigo Girls, Tori Amos, Tom Waits, Nine Inch Nails or Tim Gunn is in town--either Boston or Rhode Island-- and you here even the loosest rumor, TELL ME. Y'all didn't even buy me the lighthouse for my birthday. ::sniffle::