Drinking and Blogging

Rule Number One: Don’t Drink and Blog.

I mean, that probably is a good rule, considering that your ability to filter your thoughts is as impaired as… well, as you are. Or, in this case, I am. Was. Even though I’m undrunk now, I’m still going to share with you the deep thoughts of an irate and slightly drunk white girl, as copied from my (slightly) drunken quick draft from that night:

NewBrog [sic. New Blog]

Stand The FuckUp

Ok, rule number one, people. If you go to a concert and their playing music you should be dancing to, then get up out your seat and dance. Seriously. None of this frickin sit in your seat and be all motionless and shit til the end of each song and then do that polite little clappyclapclap crap. This ain’t no opera bitches.

*Because, apparently, I turn ten shades of “ghetto” girl when I drink. (Or, what a drunk girl from a little suburban town called ‘Rocky Hill” thinks a person from a ghetto would like. Idiot.)

Oh, and you guy with the camera, taking 50 pics and being asked 50 times to put the camera away by security. Really?! Ok yes the band is great like so great, but they’ve been staying pretty much in the same spots the whole show. Stop being a duck (yah, pretty sure I was going for ‘dick’ but it autocorrected) and get your camera out my way. Da fuck?!

*I also swear like a mofo when I drink. Classy, I know. Funny, it didn’t autocorrect that last word- clearly, I type it a lot.

While I’m on it-security? Really? Pretty sure you are showing as much authority as a potato. Ima take that idiot out myself in a minute, show you how we do.

*Ah, yes. Drunken bravado. Another blast of ridiculousness. “How we do“… From the 5’3” suburban girl who’s never, and I mean never, even thrown a punch, let alone “taken someone out”.

So, in closnf (Um, closing is what I was going for there, I’m sure) PEOPEL (here we go again, ‘people’) stand the fuck up at a concert! Don’t sit down when the music is playing! That’s so stupid! You’re so stupid! And another th

*Annnnd, that’s where it ended.

The thing is, I agree with (slightly) drunk me. It really, really pisses me off when people sit at a music show/concert and never get up to dance, because that means you are stuck sitting, too. You know damn well what’ll happen if you’re the standers in a group of sitters: that shoulder tap, followed by the hands gesturing as if training a dog to sit- or worse: security, I mean SECURITY coming over. And I don’t care how much you act like you don’t care- that is embarrassing.

My first reaction. And my second.

Let me guess- some of you sitters are out there going, ‘wahh, we paid the same money you did, so we can do what we want.’ Yes, you whiny boring log, yes you’re right, you can. That’s not my argument. In fact, it’s not an argument at all. All I’m saying is; unless you have a medical/physical reason why you cannot get up and dance and have fun, I think you’re a jerk. A big, boring, buzz killing jerk who ruined everyone else’s good time because you had to sit there and be boring-McBoredy pants. Period.

For the record- I am actually the consummate “I love you, man” drinker, ask anyone who knows me. They’ll all say they like me way better when I’m drinking, hell, I like me more when I’m drinking (ha haha, just kidding around). Just don’t kill my buzz, alright?

So, while my angry drunky blog sounded like the “ugh, that kind of drinker” moment, I can assure you that is was super contained. I recall, as we were forced to sit still, pulling out my phone as I announced to my husband: I’m so pissed, I’m going to write about it! It’s going to be epic!” To which he patted me on the leg and said ‘Ok, honey, sounds good.” And right where the drunk draft abruptly ended, was when he leaned over and said, “Wanna go get another drink with me?”

I will admit- I stood and walked out of our row extra slow, my way of sticking it to the sitters as they cranked their necks around me to see the stage. Regardless, it was another great awesome night out with my favorite person- me. Kidding, kidding!! My husband of course.

Well, I feel better now that I’ve both (slightly) drunkenly and soberly vented on a topic that often irks me, and hopefully encouraged (by encouraged, I mean shamed) some of those sitters to, ahem , “Stand The Fuck Up”.

More of this
Less of this.

Please. And Thank You.


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