Mr. Skinny Asshole

A girl I had an internet crush on won us backstage tickets to see a certain anemic indie songsmith at the Greek in Hollywood. I was having the time of my life even though the date wasn't working out too well, and the opening band is incredibly sweet and conversational with me. They go on stage and I see Mr. Skinny Asshole sitting on a couch with a bottle of something and an affected blond by his side who looks like she's on pills. I surmount my shyness, approach him and say "Hey man, I just wanted to say I love your music and it's had a big impact on me." "Oh yeah? You like my music?" he says back. I nod. "Well me too. That's why I fucking write it idiot." Then he gets up and walks away. I had ordered a box set of his whole discography a few weeks before the show. It came a week later and was promptly sold.