Last night my parents took us to see blues genius Buddy Guy do an acoustic show, which was wonderful, ’cause it’s not the kind of ticket that I could usually afford. I’d love to write about it, but it was really a singular experience. To give you an idea, when my dad asked us what we thought, the first thing my brother and I did for a few minutes was nod slowly and approvingly.

Anyway, the opener was “sixteen-year-old guitar sensation” Kyle Riabko. The boy’s obviously a very talented singer, songwriter and guitarist, and a brilliant showman. However, he had one song to which the chorus was:

I want your es-tro-gen
Gimme some of your es-tro-gen
I want your es-tro-gen

As someone who’s on her second month of birth control and has suffered at various times nearly all the myriad side effects – bloating, tender breasts, cramps, nausea (it was pretty severe in the first month), uncontrollable mood swings, &c, all I could think was “Dude, no you don’t.”