. . . that I had a ticket to go and see the All American Rejects last Sunday, since Mich got me a ticket for my birthday.
In fact, I shouted it from the rooftops. I also told everyone if they didn't see me again, it was because I was going to run off with Tyson Ritter. Yum yum yum. He is HOT.
I mean, LOOK!!!!
The problem is . . . and this is what I always forget . . . how the FUCK was the dude going to see me from up there on the stage when I was stuck behind tons of people??? Dammit.
Instead Mich concentrated on trying to get me to chat up some not-altogether-unattractive looking dudes standing nearby.
(Mich, do you know me but at all??? I don't "do" chatting up!!!!)
So I had an awesome night, drank TONS of vodka (without the hangover the next day!), the band were fab (the support acts, on the other hand, were NOT), but I came home Tyson-less. Poor me.
Oh well. Maybe I'll pull the singer at the NEXT gig I go to.
But considering it's Kelly Clarkson (again) and I ain't that way inclined, I guess not . . .