I'm handicapped for the weekend. I feel like such an old lady!
I was doing my typical hour cardio yesterday early afternoon and everything was fine. however, once I stepped off the treadmill, and began my stretches, I noticed something was up with my lower back.
What the... hell... did I do to my back?
Stretches I can do for five minutes each were so painful to me, and I couldn't even touch my toes.
Dude, either I've just gained twenty pounds while sleeping, or I just... f*ed up my back.
(I must admit, this lent thing is really annoying me because I'm starting to sound like Ned Flanders with all these invented words I use to prevent myself from cussing. LAME life to live.)
As I attempted to stretch a little more, I noticed the pain wasn't going anywhere, and that it was only increasing. I therefore limped my ass to my room, thought that taking a hot shower would help, but even then I was having problems. I can only imagine how ladies feel when they have hip-replacement surgery... it was bad.
Now, I could have had an OK day trying to recuperate, but this damned injury occurred the day of the Cartel show. Hmm... stay home and rest my bad right hip... or go to a concert with the homies? Well, hello! What am I gonna need my hip for, anyway? Let the show go on!
I limped all over the place, unable to take long strides as I walked... which could have been a disaster in the parking lot if we would have arrived later (totally possible with my slow ass that takes 3+ hours to pick out an outfit-- as much as it may appear that I do not).
My two friends and I stood against a wall the entire time, and I had to be standing because bending down was quite a painful hassle for me (I can't even feed my dog, for crying out loud!).
I have no idea how long it's been since my last English-speaking concert, but man!! have things changed! Where the hell did all these scene kids come from? What in the... what are they thinking when they get ready to go out? How are they going to explain some of their hair/clothing choices when they get older and see pictures of themselves?? I would have taken pictures of some of the worst styles I saw, but I didn't want scene kids to flock to the flash like the moths they are (if you're a scene kid, bite me!). But let me just say: if your hair resembles a skunk, or like if you've just been in a brawl--and lost-- with a pack of wild Dingos, please don't let it smell like it too.
Anyway, the bands preceding Cartel were great. Very talented as opposed to previous bands I've been subjected to (their names I no longer remember due to their my-balls-are-being-attacked-with-an-ice-pick high pitch piercing my eardrums, forcing my brain to enter survival-mode, entering a catatonic state where nothing is memorable now). In particular, Quietdrive where the lead singer busted out a violin and won me over (bring out a string instrument, play the s**t out of it, and you'll win my admiration for life. That's just the orchestra-nerd way). All the bands had a great vocal quality to them... and Cobra Starship... well... Gabe's just one hilarious man. That's another fast way to my heart: crack me up, and make fun of yourself, and you'll have me forever. Plus, Gabe was the best dancer up there... that guy can rock to any beat. Viva Uruguay.
While Cartel played, my best homie wanted to buy merch, so we went outside. So much smoking was going on, I swear a day of my life has been shaved off (one less day of painful hip-replacement surgery to put up with, I suppose). While out there, band members of Boys Like Girls went out, were semi-mauled by 14 year old 4'8" girls, and signed autographs. I must say... the lead singer is one gorgeous man. Nice as well... signing crap like Starbucks containers for little dumb girls who'll have ulcers before Senior year of High School.
The worst was when Gabe from Cobra came out. Now that guy was mauled. Best-homie and I were caught in the middle of the action and were smothered against Gabe's tiny ass/long legs.
"KISS ME, GABE!"
KISS.
"AHHHH!" (I feel sorry for that girl's future boyfriend... I hope she doesn't pull off that kind of stunt after he kisses her)
How can people deal with that s**t? How can people do that to others? After a while I was more like: F*ck it, let's go. This s*it is aggravating me and my ass is being touched by unknown s*it... and luckily I have no penis, or else I'd be about to ass rape this poor guy if we don't leave this damn crowd now.
The whole time I stood there I thought of Cameron Diaz and how she says autographs are stupid, and how reportedly she'll lecture a fan who asks her to sign one on just how stupid autographs are.
Dude, Cameron, you got a point there (but I still got Gabe's autograph... haha).
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