My hubby is a die hard Bruce fan.  I mean the kind that will travel (within reason) to see more than one show on a tour.  In fact, we’ve got tix for both LA and San Francisco this tour already.  While I may be a Jersey Girl born and bred, I was unfortunately born a couple of years too late to worship at the pulpit of Brother Bruce.

In my defense, I was a freshman in high school during the Born in the USA heyday.  And well, let’s face it, that was such a commercial pop album that it’s not like it did much to turn me into a fan, especially considering I was already experimenting with Brit pop and the new wave scene (like any good, big-haired girl from Jersey in the 80’s!).  From there we had Nebraska and Atlantic City and all those depressing albums.  Me, I’m more of a River fan.  If you want me to enjoy Bruce, then give me the classic Bruce.

I’ve seen him three times since hooking up with the hubby and let me tell ya,  he puts on one helluva show.  I’m just not a die hard fan – much to the dismay of his online Bruce Fan friends.  No really, when the “Bruce folks” (as they’re referred to) talk about the hubby’s wife (being me) the first question asked is if I’m a fan.  Then comes the let down that I’m not only not a fan, but I’m a Jersey Girl.  Yeah, I’m a total disappointment to that group.  Luckily, they still love me, hubby included.  Of course, I’m sure he’d much rather I didn’t sing along to Brother Bruce at a full out scream, but hey, that’s half the fun for me (don’t ask).

So my point to this Bruuuuce post…why is it that my hubby, the guy that’s actually in the music industry and gets 2-25 CDs delivered a day (yes, a day!), had to have me run out to Best Buy to pick up the latest Bruce album today – the actual day of release?  Should I even mention the fact that he’s had a bootleg pre-release for a couple of weeks already? Eh well, it’s not like I had something better to do between loads hanging out at the laundromat today.