party naked

I am in fact alive after the concert-going. I suppose I should have mentioned that I went on vacation with my family last week after I returned from the concert.

Oh, what a stressful life I lead.

So anyway, you want to hear about the concert, right?

Here goes.

Eight hours is a long time to travel, even when there aren’t whining screaming children in-tow to make the trip seem even longer. Seriously, when I have kids, we’ll either fly or we won’t vacation at all. I can’t imagine driving what seems like an eternity all the while hearing “Mommy, are we there yet?” or worse “She’s touching me!”.

Not that Lemons is bad company or anything, quite the contrary. The first 85,ooo,000,000 miles of our trip were filled with interesting conversation about the anticipation of child-birth for her, and how I plan on resisting “the urge” once her bun pops out of the oven. But only so many topics of conversation can be broached before there’s just nothing to talk about. And trust me, there’s no one I’d rather talk about nothing with than her, so you know we covered it all.

After the other 85,000,000,000 miles, we reached our destination, and the only slightly-irritable-because-she’s-pregnant Lemons exclaimed “We’re staying in the ghetto!!” (As an aside, it really wasn’t the ghetto, it just wasn’t as nice as the place that we stayed last year, which may as well have been the Hilton Suite at the Hilton with a prime location just minutes from the concert site. However, as previously mentioned, Lemons is slightly-irritable-because-she’s-pregnant. I love you Lemons, but you know it’s true) We proceeded to go into the not-as-nice-as-last-year lobby and check in with the not-as-nice-as-last-year receptionist, who sent us up the not-as-nice-as-last-year elevator to our rooms that were, well, not as nice as last year. I’m not so sure what we did after that but something about The Real World re-runs enters my mind.

The next day we woke relatively early (“I didn’t sleep so well, last year was better.”) and went off to get our nails did by the local Vietnamese ladies who didn’t do as well as last year’s Vietnamese ladies. Afterwards we went back to our hotel to pretty ourselves up for a man who will never give either of us the time of day.

The concert started at 7:30 and so, we figured (for some strange reason, which in retrospect, doesn’t make much sense) that we would get to the concert at 7:00. We seemed to have forgotten that we had to pick up our tickets from the “will call” window, which of course had a line the length of which rivaled the Mississippi. We didn’t get our tickets until 8:00 and therefore missed the opening act Taylor Swift. (Isn’t she sickeningly adorable? I just love her hair and am positive that mine would never look that good, even with a team of professionals. I think that she’s possibly the only girl I would allow my brother to date simply because she’s not a waste of his pretty.) Anyway we were pretty bummed that we missed her, and by pretty you should read very and by bummed you should read irrate, but you know, take it as you want it.

We were, from that moment on, in lovely moods until security allowed us to go up to the stage to watch Brad perform. I don’t need to be pregnant to be slightly irritable.

When Brad came on, all of my troubles melted away as he pretty much can’t put on a bad show. It’s just not in him.

The highlight of the evening was when some random chick hopped up on the stage and made a bee-line for Brad. Fortunately, his security team appears to be able to hold their own, because one of his guys came out of the middle of nowhere to tackle this woman NFL-style. As soon as he picked her up she started kicking and flailing about like a child. It was quite a site to see, although if she had taken the advice of her shirt- “Party Naked”- I’m not so sure security would have been so quick to take her out. The world may never know.

Not to be over-run by happiness for too long, Brad ended up giving his hat to some rotten little 4 year old whose parents clearly only brought him to use for that purpose. Four-year-olds don’t understand celebrity and music and the like, and if they do, they’re watching too much TV, and you should question the parenting of that child. So, next year Lemons and I have decided to bring one of our nieces to the concert for the exact same purpose.

We want that hat, darnit!


3 Responses to “party naked”

  1. 1 lifelemons August 1, 2007 at 6:22 am

    ROFLMAO! You are a trip, this was a very accurate description of our trip to the ghetto!

  2. 2 girlymama August 1, 2007 at 7:21 am

    i bet gracie could get you a hat. he’ll just see her dancing and give her a hat and possibly a marriage contract for his son.

  1. 1 it only took 4 years « sunny side of life Trackback on August 2, 2010 at 6:00 pm

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