Better Late Than Never, I Always Say

My recent negligence of the blog might give you the impression that I have been less neurotic lately.

Not so, silly rabbit.

I barely emerged from my concert coma last Monday before I was back at it again on Friday. If ever you have the occasion to hear live music, I recommend you go. And if the band you're planning to hear is The Arcade Fire, you do whatever it takes to go...even if it means you drive two hours to get your priced-below-face-value-front-row pit tickets. And if you have seen said rock show four days prior, you will likely be the coolest person in the front row.

I'm convinced only good things can happen when Samantha and I attend concerts together. I thought for a long time that it was because of her lucky red underwear, but she informed me that they perished several concerts ago. I am led to believe, then, that some cosmic force wants us to be there, together. Not only did we score discounted pit tickets, we had an unusually nice young man share his front row spot with us (and go fetch us some water, too). By the end of the night, we shook hands with Regine, got sweated on by Win, and caught a drum stick that flew into the front row during the final song of the encore. And that's on top of the fact that Britt locked eyes with me during the opening set. I swear, he recognized me from our first encounter in DC. Instead of being the babbling fool I was then, I just stood there like a deer in headlights, not sure whether to look away, smile or give him my best come hither stare. Next time, I swear, I'm going to do something memorable. Let's just hope it's good memorable...I am slowly losing my spunk.

I'm neurotic today because...
...I was interrupted mid-blog by a very rude kidney stone, preventing me from publishing in a timely manner. I know, I'm upset about it too.