You Must Le-ea-rn

Do these little guys have ears yet?

I hope so. Because last night, me and the seedlings saw the best hip hop emcee ever. Ever.

A message on my phone yesterday afternoon asked me if I wanted to cover an event for the local alt newspaper that I write for. I knew the caller was connected with a local hip hop posse. (yes, I just said posse. In this particular situation, it fits and I couldn't really think of a better term to describe a tightly knit yet independent group of emcees, dj's, promoters, you know, a bunch of kids trying to make something cool happen in their hometown. So there you have it. Posse)

So, hubby and I pondered. hmm. What's going on tonight? What did we forget about? What show could he mean? And then it hit us both. Holy shit!

KRS-ONE.

At this point, I had to tamper down my excitement knowing that hubby would be leaving for work in just an hour or so and would most likely miss the entire show of his favorite hip hop artist. The person he claims changed his world view at first listen. The person he will, without hesitation, say is among the best and the brightest of the entire genre. Oh sweetie. He'd have to live vicariously through me and the twins, who would be getting their second dose of a live hip hop show in utero.

D*mn. These kids are spoiled.

So, I called my pal S., pulled out my press pass, had hubby set his camera to the most idiot-proof setting possible and switch out the new lens to an older one and off I went.

Here's a sampling of the conversations me and hubby's camera had:

"Hey, take a picture of me!"

"Sure."

"Ok. Now let me take a picture of you! It's cool. I'm in a photography class...."

"Hmm. I don't know about that."

"C'mon. It's only fair."

"Ok. But if you harm this camera, my life is in your hands. Know that."

"Cool. cool. [posing and ridiculous camera banter ensues] See! I told you I was good. Look. Here you are.....Damn! Your titties is huge!"

"Um, yeah, and believe me, it surprises me more than you. P.S. I'm pregnant so I think they're supposed to be like that."

"Right on, girl! you gotta feed those little ones!!"

And he gave me a hug, laughed and walked away. S. shook her head and asked, "did that guy really just say something about your "titties"? He did. He did. And somehow it was quite sweet.

S. perched herself on a stool towards the back of the club. I went to the stage to try to get some crowd shots and to get ready for the show. And oh my goodness, what a show. What a great frigging show. Maybe I doubted my hubby's claims. Maybe I thought to myself, ok, how good could this guy be?

He was amazing. And the vibe in the club was among the most positive I have ever experienced. Nearly ever person knew every word of his songs. Everyone laughed at the punchlines in his freestyles. The show went on and on.

And ended just as hubby came rushing through the doors as his shift ended. Damn. He caught a glimpse of his hero, but not in action. He was a great sport, promised that my excitement was enough for the both of us, then took me for some late night pizza. We hung out. I tried to relay the songs KRS did and didn't do - at one point, hubby ended up pulling out his mp3 player and just rolling down the album tracks with me going yes, yes, I think so, nope, not that one. Satisfied, we all went to bed.

What a great night.