One of the first gigs I ever played, out of all places, was at my brother's fraternity house in Norman for some philanthropy event. And, you see, my 12 year old self at the time decided to go on stage and intro one of the ballads by saying, "This is for all the people who have fucked me over." At 12 years old, I can only imagine how long that list was. And after the show, my mom pulled me aside with, like, true Catholic anger in her eyes, red in the face, you know, whole nine yards. And she said, "Listen, men don't talk like that, boys do, and I'm raising you to be a man." And of course she was right and I think I hated most that I disappointed her. She stopped smoking the year I was born, but any time I think of that story, I always picture her with a Virginia Slim in her hand. It was her favorite smoke.
