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Jason jazzed up the weekend

April 26, 2008

by Meredith Maines

My soulmate signals were firing at full speed Monday night, all arrows pointing toward the guy on stage.

Two friends and I traversed to the Gulf to rendezvous with my “Mr. Right,” Jason Mraz, via the House of Blues.

Typically I find it clichÇ_ to fall for a performer, but when that man is Mr. Mraz himself, draped in a hazy cloak of “atmosphere,” my love life never looked better.

He was perfect. None of his sexual innuendos, and there were many, nor his cuss words, some with more than four letters, could have deterred me from my destiny of becoming Mrs. A-Z.

Wait. What? No! This is me we’re talking about, the beacon of elusive purity and a defender of the chaste.

But there I stood for three and a half hours in the heart of New Orleans, absorbing the moral mudslinging with a smile. This is what I like to call being a wuss, all for the sake of my love affair with wordplay. And instead of being disappointed in him, I was disappointed in myself for attempting to camouflage my innocence.

Despite my discomfort at the time, these are the life lessons the beloved Jason has taught me:

1. For celebrities, all is permissible.
Normally, if a man danced around publicly in a bikini wearing Mardi Gras beads with a plastic penis as a pendant, I would be genuinely angered. But when Mraz’s percussionist displayed the aforementioned behavior, though it still made me obviously uncomfortable, I stood there surrounded by a mass of laughing people and took it.

Normally, I would not tolerate someone serenading me with the phrase, “sock it to my ass; sock it to my ass.” But when Mraz’s opening artist said just that, I sheepishly shook my head and waited for Mraz’s appearance, instead of leaving in a huff. Despite devotion to Mraz, I felt strangely violated.

2. Concerts are an excuse to express inner thoughts.

As the “Music, Magic, Make Peace” concert was coming to a close, some girl, no doubt slightly inebriated, pleaded, “Don’t leave me,” in the direction of my man. Once I got past my initial disgust at her display (after all, he’s mine) I detected my hypocrisy. I had been thinking the same thing. She just took the liberty to tell him.

3. Concert crowds can be disturbing.

But not for the reason you’d typically expect. It wasn’t the fact that my friend’s shoe was the recipient of a wayward cocktail, or the chick who continually pushed her way past us toward the front. I was disappointed because I could no longer pretend Mraz sang to me alone. I found myself scanning the audience in surprise, wondering how all these people could love him as much as I.

When he chose someone from the crowd to come join him on stage, I held my breath as some fake blonde danced seductively all up on MY MAN. It was a difficult sight to behold.

4. Luckily, every day can be a personal acoustic Mraz concert on my iPod.

5. Wow. I am a geek.

Meredith Maines is a sophomore communication design major and journalism minor from Shreveport, who serves as online editor for The Tech Talk. E-mail comments to mhm015@latech.edu.

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