Out on the town

Friday night, I did something that I like to do once a decade. I went to a concert for the first time since I went to see Kelly Clarkson and the rest of the season one American Idol singers. I was just so sure nothing could top that group of singers, it wouldn't be worth it to shell out the bucks for anyone else's concert. Until...

Needtobreathe. (I'm going to try to withstand my overwhelming desire to write this entire post with only! exclamation! marks!)

I only had to email my way cooler awesome cousin, three or four times to get instructions on how one attends a concert.

Let me start my thrilling tale with what I wore. After THIRTEEN DAYS of actually getting out of pajamas and putting real live effort into looking human-ish (pretty sure all of Bee's readers are now vowing to never have children, and all my stay-at-home mom readers are super impressed with me) I missed my first day. And then didn't leave myself enough time to find something to measure up to the embarrassingly low standards of fashion I've been striving for over the last two weeks. Part of the problem was finding something to go with my orthopedic shoes. Because the Awesome Cousin informed me I would be standing at this concert. But, whatever, I was clothed and even went all out and put on eyeliner. And three, yes three, colors of eyeshadow. Fancy-schmancy.

The four things I will take away from this concert:
1. Needtobreathe is as awesome as I always thought.
2. I will now require a banjo to be played at every concert I attend.
3. Every band should turn off their amps/microphones and sing so you can hear their real live voices.
     Awesome move, Needtobreathe. Way to raise the bar impossibly high for everyone else.
4. I will also require a man dressed as a lumberjack to play ukelele at every concert I attend.

(I couldn't actually find a picture of the guitarist for the opening act, but just picture Paul Bunyan about 5'2" with a ukelele and you've pretty much got it.)

My only complaint was the middle-aged woman in the zebra-print shirt who blocked my every view. But only during the best songs. I finally gave in and rested my chin on the shoulders of the girls in front of me so I could see around the drunken flailings of Zebra Woman. I don't think it was at all awkward. Nor was my compulsive apologizing to the girl behind me who I obsessively worried about blocking. (Until I figured out that it's just every girl for herself at a concert and why oh why  did I not ask Awesome Cousin about the rules of personal space at a concert?)

Ooops, my cheerful, never-complaining self just thought of my other complaint. Old people and PDA. Just because they're surrounded by fresh-faced youth does not make it okay to rest their hands on one another's tushies. This is made even worse if one of those tushies is encased in mom jeans. You'll all be happy to know that Aquaman and I stayed a respectable five feet away from one another as is fitting for two junior-high students at an awkward middle school dance.

So, there you have it. I'll report back on my next concert/date with Aquaman in 2025. I'm sure it will be just as awesome.

--Kae--