What would you think of me if I told you I haven't slept in weeks?

The Cold War Kids concert: how could it be anything less than awesome?

Ask me how it was. Come on, ask me. Ask me, ask me, ask me! Okay, I'll tell you. It was awesome. I love going to concerts by myself because I can dance as much as I want. I can be in my own world; just me and the music.

Sean Hayes opened. His lyrics reminded me of Bob Dylan so I automatically fell in love, except for with his love song which made me want to vomit. Some ass yelled out, "We don't want to hear you," between his songs. "What's that?" asked Hayes. The guy repeated himself. "Then go the fuck outside!" Hayes yelled back. I hate people like that. Even if he didn't like Hayes' music, I don't understand why he would feel like he had the right to bash him while he was performing. Jerk.

Gosh, I don't feel like going into details. I will make a list and call it good.

Pros:
1. Awesome show. They seemed sober which was a nice change. It's not that drugs bother me, but once I went to a show and the guy was so stoned that the energy of his performance was virtually nonexistent.

2. The guy next to me smelled amazing. It was a clean mix of tobacco and sweat. I made sure to stay close.

3. Dancing.

4. Feeling free and happy, finally. (Will it last?)

Cons:
1. The typical flighty chick who texts and talks during the whole show. She got excited a few times when they played some of their popular old stuff, but during the bulk of the show she kept looking to the back of the room at who knows what. Her friends kept coming and going and pushing their way past. Seriously, aren't you here to hear the freaking music? I am overreacting, but show some respect.

2. Blisters all over my feet. War wounds really. Maybe this one should go under pros.

As I walked into the parking garage at 11:30, I interrupted a make-out session. I thought about asking if I could join, but decided against it. Instead I joked, "Whoa, ha, don't mind me." They laughed and we talked about the show in the elevator. So I guess I did talk to someone, Mom.

Since it's 2:00, I guess I ought to put some pants on. Must keep on keepin' on, pursuin' that dawg-on American Dream. Or maybe I'll just read some Bukowski. Good enough. I'm going to a girls and chocolate night. I think a chick flick is to follow. Shall I bring my noose? I am expecting to be overwhelmed with estrogen. Who knows if it will be fun, but at least I can walk home as soon as the girlyness begins to suffocate me. I will probably end up having fun though; I usually do.

I have been wondering lately about why I blog. I mean, no one reads it, but I have begun to enjoy it for that very reason. I no longer strive for poeticism with each post. I don't care. For some reason, it is fun to write for no one but myself. Plus I love the rhythmic sound of my fingers dancing over the keyboard.

Also, I feel like the details of my life are only for those close to me. Not the internet.