“It’s time to say goodnight, Dick.”

“That reminds me, Dan, I can’t make it to the after-show party tonight. I have a date with a concert roadie.”

“A roadie?”

“I met her at the Sugar Ray show. You might even say it was love at first sight-lines.”

“And you’re sure she’s the one for you?”

“I’ll have you know that she’s changed my life. She redecorated my entire apartment in a concert motif. She replaced the wall paper in my living room with murals of Chris Whitley and Nickel Creek, painted the den the same color as the tour bus for Chicago and replaced my end tables with Paul McCartney urns.”

“Uh? What’s a Paul McCartney urn?”

“About $250 a ticket.”

“I see. And she’s the love of your life?”

“Who is?”

“This lady you’re seeing. You said your girlfriend is a roadie and that she just redecorated your entire home.”

“She sure did. She redid my breakfast nook in Britney Spears modern.”

“Your breakfast nook?”

“You know, it’s not a kitchen, not yet a dining room?”

“I should have known. So, she’s a roadie, eh? Does she get you into all the shows for free? Like Nickel Creek or The Get Up Kids?”

“Oh, I wish, but she said she could get in trouble if she kept handing out free passes. She said they would haul her before the managers commission.”

“Sounds serious. Uh, what’s a managers commission?”

“About 40 percent of an artist’s gross income.”

“Well, it sounds as if you’ve finally met the right girl. But I’ll bet she’s tough to get a hold of, what with being on the road with bands like Gov’t Mule or The B-52’s all the time.”

“You’re telling me. Thankfully, she has an answering service, but she’s thinking of dropping it because they raised their rates.”

“Really? What’s the service charge?”

“Oh, about seven percent per ticket plus convenience fees.”

“I had to ask. Anyway, is this the girl you want to settle down with?”

“Oh, sure. Take last night, for instance. It was after the Fireballs Of Freedom concert. I looked up into her eyes and said -“

“Wait a minute. You looked up into her eyes? Do you mean she’s taller than you?”

“Only when she wears her roadie lifts.”

“Uh? What’s a roadie lift?”

“Guitar cases, amplifiers, drum kits, things like that.”

“Nevertheless, she sounds like one great lady.”

“You bet your sweet bippy, she is. However, there is one small thing.”

“What’s that?”

“She’s a little too kinky for my tastes.”

“You mean she likes to get frisky?”

“I’ll say. Last week she tied me up with the schedule for Big Head Todd & The Monsters, last weekend she tickled me with the dates for Art Alexakis and Puddle Of Mudd, and the night before last she wrapped me up in a Paul McCartney net.”

“Wait a minute. You’re making this up. There’s no such thing as a Paul McCartney net.”

“There is too.”

“Then tell me, loverboy, what’s a Paul McCartney net?

“Oh, about $250 per ticket.”

“Say goodnight, Dick.”

“Goodnight, Dick.”