carrot top is alive & well

howdy, y'all... as we like to say in texas. not that i've ever openly admitted to the fact that i'm from texas except for all intensive blog purposes, but that'll do. in fact, most of the time i claim seattle as my hometown... even though i lived there from ages -7.5 months to 4 years (i was a preemie) and have served the majority of my life sentence down here in hell texas. i'm largely in denial. and that's a theme that seems prevalent in many areas of my life.

i turn 26 in roughly a month. and i'm getting divorced. which just so happily will happen less than a week before i venture into my "late twenties." happy birthday... you're divorced. believe it or not, this was all a part of my master life plan.

hopefully you're no stranger to the use of sarcasm. i'm sarcasm's best friend. and worst enemy. which doesn't really make sense, but seemed to fit, so i wrote it anyway. sue me. but i digress...

so i went to a concert at house of blues last night with my boyfriend to see some largely unheard of bands: run run run, remington, missile and (my favorite which sounds like if MGMT and foster the people had a lovechild out of wedlock) gentlemen hall. it was definitely good stuff... if you're looking to drop some scrilla on itunes, i highly recommend gentlemen hall's CD "when we all disappear"... it's the best $5.94 you'll ever spend. TRUST. so anyway... we're just hanging out... watching all the underage high school kids trying to be cool and dancing... let me tell you... there is something incredibly ego-boosting about watching white kids at an alternative concert try to be cool and dance. but then we felt like assholes because we were some of the oldest people at the concert. touche, awfully dancing and uncool white kids. touche.

my man managed to run off to the restroom and while i was standing there trying to enjoy a little personal time, out of the corner of my eye, i spot old man time staring at me... wait, no... he was more than staring... he was eye fucking me. with a gaze of pure enjoyment. i quickly tried to ensure that my ass wasn't hanging out of my super short dress, grabbed my shit and ran. just the idea of wrinkly balls scares me, y'all.

so there i am stressing out... texting my boyfriend to come back and save me... practicing my loud neighing skills in case old man time decides to upgrade from across the room eye fucking to full on old man on late 20's girl raping and my man shows up on his white steed in full armour to rescue me. i was so happy to see him and escape the impending pillaging that i forgot to ask him where he found the horse.

then i spotted carrot top. who almost molested the couple standing behind us who looked like they were having a fabulous time by standing still with these awesome grimaces on their faces (remember what i said about sarcasm. get used to it if you're not). or he could have almost molested the drunk girl with her white shirt half falling off. either one. i wasn't sure what his target was because before i knew it, our steed carried us off into the parking lot so we could safely make it home despite the crazy crowd orgies that were going on.

all in all, it was a good night. especially since we narrowly escaped pillaging. oh and the music was cool, too.

moral of the story: don't get left by yourself in a crowd at a concert. especially not at a concert that old man time & carrot top decide to attend. unless your man finds a random white steed to carry you to safety.