Nateva Lite

So, the wildly popular music festival is being shrunk to about half the size of last year’s show. How, exactly, is a rock and roll fan supposed to adjust his behavior for this? Do you only get half drunk on warm beer? Expose the left side of your body while keeping the right side covered? Hold up your Bic to celebrate a great song, but don’t actually flick it? Hurl your bra onto the stage and then go and retrieve it? Hack up your protest sign so that it says “Make love” and nothing else? Completely ignore warnings about the brown acid? Babble to friends and strangers about the time you went to see Crosby and Stills? Feel free to come knocking if this van is rocking? Use just one finger to display the peace sign? Go halfway with a girl you just met at the Jager tent? Ah, I’m sure it’ll be a great time.

Bark at the moon

Midweek, I was assigned to write a story about a woman and her dog who were stalked by a menacing coyote in the area of North Temple Street. It had the makings of a frightening tale. A fearless beast from the woods, a running young woman and a playground full of children. Alas, the beast in question turned out to be a mere dog. As a reporter, there is just no way I could write about something so prosaic as a dog prowling the woods of Central Maine. It wouldn’t be responsible.

You stink

What’s the deal with people who drown themselves in cologne and then go to public places to assault strangers with their eye-watering scent? Do you put that stuff on with a garden hose, or what, Rico Suave? Get behind one of these studs in a long line and it’s like getting maced and hit on at the same time. When a person slaps on that much bottled aroma, you have to wonder what God-awful stench he is trying to cover up in the first place.

It’s nice to be asked

Contrary to any rumors you might have heard, I will not be taking over the position of Bates College president. I have declined the offer so that I am able to spend more time with your family.

Red Sox

I haven’t seen so many dispirited BoSox fans since Aaron Boone. What was his middle name again?

Get a room

The sun is warm, the snow is melting, the mud is beckoning my all-terrain motorcycle. Can the sighting of the first winter white, adulterous couple in the woods be far behind? I look forward to seeing you. Sort of.

Stuck on you

Special thanks to the nice lady who sent over four sheets of “safe, non-toxic, last for days, easy to remove” tattoos. Today, I’m wearing one of the little butterflies in your honor. I’ll let you guess where I put it. And now, to the biker bar!

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