Wilco hates me, baby

Oh, was I excited to learn about Wilco's latest tour dates today. They're even coming to a town near me! Which would normally be great news, except, SIGH, the date is a week before I'm due to give birth. And while going into labor during a Wilco show would be pretty much the coolest story ever, it's probably not a great idea, in reality.

I claim that Wilco hates me because I have NEVER gotten to see them, because their dates always coincide with some insurmountable obstacle for me -- and believe me, very little is insurmountable when it comes to me and Wilco. But here it has happened again. And just to rub my nose in it, the new dates seem to hit just about every place I've ever lived previously -- including a really great venue in Tokyo. Ooooohh, how I'd love to see that show. And if it were only three years ago, I could have! And dammit, Wilco, I suspect you know that.

Is there a name for this phenomenon? For a band you love seemingly giving you the dodge for years and years? I don't know what I did to Mr. Jeff Tweedy (maybe it was all the Jay Farrar worship?), but I sure do regret it. SIGH.