When I was young and first off to school I developed this crush on a guy who worked at the local hardware store. We would chat on occasion, and met a once for coffee, and he talked about playing bass guitar in a band. He was very serious about band practice, and I thought I was very serious about pursuing him, because he was handsome with a nice smile and looked good in that black apron, maybe.

I had a friend who worked at the campus daily paper as an arts writer, so I convinced him to interview this bass player's band for their debut performance at some dive bar later in the month.

I saw the flyers the same day the short article was printed, and let me just say I was relieved I hadn't ever kissed that bass player hardware guy. Standing there in the sun by the bus stop I immediately lost all interest in him, which may sound shallow but consider this: the flyers, on hot pink paper, were dominated by this sketch of a strange hairy cyclops thing with a grin showing lots of big square teeth, making the peace sign. And funny I had never asked the band's name, which turned out to be "The Funky Fingers." Not just "Funky Fingers" but "THE Funky Fingers."

No, it is not possible to judge a book by its cover, or a band by its flyer, but sometimes it's sensible. Especially when one is not yet 21 and old enough to get drunk enough so that the... funky... music doesn't matter.