Lack of Magic

OK, I just had another thought. Cyber-fairies are probably mythical. Or urban legends. Whatever. The point is that I left bait out for them, bigfatjuicy bait, the kind of thing that leads to cyber-miracles every day (or so believers claim)... and nothing.

I direct your attention to Proof That The Universe is Totally Screwing With Me. For those of you too lazy to click and do a bit of additional reading, I'll summarize. (I don't know why. I guess I'm feeling generous, or my blood sugar is low.) (Or my blood alcohol level is low. Like, zero.) (Which I totally can't explain, since it is a Friday. But I can probably do something about that. The hell with the blood sugar thing.) So...

The Royal Wedding (The Boy + Fabulous Fiancee) is Monday, April 27, in Orlando.

The Royal Wedding is the only event in the history of the universe that could preempt...

Cross Canadian Ragweed (The Band I Love Almost as Much as Tom & The Boy. Sometimes more.) is playing Monday, April 27, in Orlando.

3.3 miles from the site of the wedding.

The wedding festivities will not wrap up (at the earliest) until well past "doors open" time at the club hosting My Favorite Band.

Even knowing that Ragweed won't probably hit the stage till 9-10 PM, I cannot possibly go. 25 miles from post-wedding location to concert venue. No rental car. And I must be there when the doors open, because I would be a basket case if I had to see these guys play from anywhere other than front and center, against the stage. Otherwise, there would be (shudder) people between me and the band, and that is completely unacceptable.

That's where the cyber-fairies were supposed to hop in and save the day. Like, if I were some kid with a rare and disgusting disease, I'd totally be sitting on Spongebob's lap by now. If Spongebob has a lap, which I don't know, and could not possibly care less. But I'd be there, if I were some pathetic sick kid.

But no, I'm just the most loyal, avid, band-promoting fan these guys have. (See details of the magnitude of my fan-ness and attempts to convert the rest of the world in my previous post.) You'd think the cyber-fairies (like, do they use Google Alert?) would have whispered my plight to the Management, and I would have learned by now that they will be sending a car for me at the conclusion of the post-wedding dinner (oh, and Tom, too), rushing us to the concert venue, escorting us to a private meet & greet - at which they would thank us for being such totally awesome fans - and then place us in my favorite concert-viewing location. Right at the stage.

And, possibly, there would be a few complimentary beverages. They don't have to drive us back to the Old Key West Resort. We can get a cab. I only expect so much from the cyber-fairies.

It'd be like Cinderella, but way, way cooler.

But apparently I shouldn't expect anything, because as it turns out cyber-fairies are an urban legend. Unless you're a sick kid with many visible lesions or missing body parts. Then I'd totally be riding Shamu at Sea World.

(Sniff. And I hoped my deep and abiding love for Cross Canadian Ragweed would touch the hearts of the cyber-faires, or Google Alert - possibly the cyber-fairies' cover - and make something magical happen.)