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A cautionary autograph tale...

In light of some recent threads about fun and inventive items to get autographed by Blues players, I thought I would share a story from my high school days. While I am the first to recognize the hilarity of one guy asking another guy to sign his man-boob (especially if that man is in the 30-50 year old range and the target player is around 20), this is a cautionary tale about what can happen when you open yourself up by asking to have cleavage signed...

The setting is 1998, Riverport Amphitheater (back when it might have still actually been called Riverport), Pointfest 10, an all-day concert featuring some of the icons of late 90's rock including Seven Mary Three, Reel Big Fish, Local H, Stabbing Westward, the Urge, and the subject of our little story, Monster Magnet.

My friends and I were at the all-day concert in the 99 degree weather and it was all a little hazy and confused. We bought some t-shirts to shield us against the blazing sun (since we had only worn tank tops and bikini tops). Along with the purchase, we were given some backstage passes to meet the members of Monster Magnet... be still our underage hearts.

We went backstage at the appropriate time and all went through the line to get our t-shirts autographed by the band members, only one of which was vaguely attractive to our high school sensibilities. That fact aside, we were excited to meet real near-celebrities and they were appropriately flirtatious apparently unaware or unconcerned that we were still minors. As we left the backstage area, my friend (I will call her Lauren to protect her identity since she has since settled down and gotten married) noticed that one of the band members had put up a hand-written note in front of himself that said "We sign tits."

Now Lauren, fancying herself the rebel, tried to go back to test the validity of that sign. Unfortunately, they had a system for marking passes to make sure people couldn't reuse them to send all of Riverport backstage to meet the bands and she couldn't get backstage again. Undeterred, Lauren staked out the side stage where they were playing later in the day.

As the band left the stage after their set, Lauren ran up to them and told them she had seen the sign and wanted them to autograph her tits. The band member she approached stopped in his tracks, looked at Lauren for a few seconds, then said "We have four people in the band. Your tits are so small, we might have to initial them instead." Now Lauren, lacking the sense to realize she had just been insulted, gladly let them squeeze all four signatures into the small area that God had given her. She was so proud of those signatures and didn't understand why the rest of us couldn't stop laughing.

Ok, so this wasn't really a cautionary tale. It was more about an excuse to stop working on actual job tasks or my master's thesis and think about a great time from high school. But still, watch out if you ask someone to sign your boob or man-boob, you never know what response you might get!

(And for those of you wondering, no, I am not Lauren. I do not share that particular affliction!)

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