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Dear Todd,

All excited at the prospect of seeing My Teengage Stride and checking out a venue we've never been to, we dragged our asses on our favoritest train, the G to get to L.I.C. That should have been easy enough, right? But the directions we had were retarded and had us cursing for at least 5 blocks in the wrong direction. When we finally figured out where the venue was by way of the smell of steak, (Oh yeah, the show was at The Jackson [Steakhouse]...) we were a bit confused by all the 5 year olds running around outside... That confusion was just multiplied exponentially once we were inside. Either the people were 80 years old or 5 years old with a few 35 year olds sprinkled in.

We were upset that we missed the opening act, Darwin Deez who apparently had fantastic dancing capabilities. We sulked in the back corner next to a mysterious door after The Bridesmaids. Much to our surprise, there was steak through that door. One of the bartenders insisted on going in and out of that door, every time wafting the smell of meat and potatoes into our nostrils. As much as we might enjoy a nice steak, we don't think it's necessary that the room should smell like meat while trying to enjoy the music that is being played.

Finally, Knight School was over and we decided to get up and stand in the front of My Tennage Stride. We had a perfect view, until the tallest hipser men in the venue decided to stand DIRECTLY in front of us, obstucting our view of the entire band. We ended up having to watch the band in the mirror on the wall... so sad.

Needless to say, all this made for a more than moderately upsetting night. And on top of that, you, Todd, were nowhere to be found. Why is that? Could it be because you knew that the show at 92Y would be a kajiliion times more fun with rainbows, unicorns, puppies and balloons?
Of course.

Love,
Margot Tenenbaum and Enola Gay

P.S.
Expect a kick in the bawlz the next time we see you.

P.P.S.
Despite all of this, we still like your sweaters... the green one with the clovers especially.

P.P.P.S.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day. We're sure you'll be wearing that sweater soon.