Paging Dr. Noah Drake

Last Friday night I got stood up by none other than Rick Springfield. I was a hardcore Rick fan during his General Hospital/Jesse's Girl days and was looking forward to a little '80s flashbackin'. Alas, it was not to be due to a hernia operation. Whatever with that, Rickster.

And here I'd talked my sister into going to the show with the help of this rave review by converted former non-Rick-fan Pesky Malice. My sibling was a hesistant participant and had to endure the mocking taunts of her co-workers for her planned attendance. She drove an hour and a half to L.A. for the special event, too. I even asked special permission to take off from work early, so that we could gain pre-show sustenance. This was a big deal, people. While we had not gone the full nine by renting a stretch limo or bringing along lace panties or red roses to hurl on-stage, we were totally ready to ROCK! But once we pulled up to the deserted theater and read the sad little flyer taped to the door that announced the show cancellation, we realized the point was rather moot.

I felt it only fair to assuage my sister's disappointment by taking her to the delightful Wallace and Grommit film (funny and charming with a snug little storyline that outshines most animated films I've seen).

Now mi hermana y yo must wait patiently for several months before his Rickness graces the City of Angels once more. He is worth the wait, no doubt. And this will give us time to embroider "We'll make you forget Jesse's skank" onto those aforementioned propulsion lace panties.