badbadzoot's Diaryland Diary
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I finally went to a concert....
something new!
um. well, I am finally getting paid for doing nothing! My unemployment checks are finally coming in, thank goodynesss.
Last night I went to a concert, a My Chem Romance concert. Which is weird in itself because I do not own one single album.
I took some emo girls from my youth group, Mr. B tagged along when retrospectively I wished he stayed home.
Overall MCR put on a really good show. The Muse were their opening band- now thats my type of music. Very experiential and psychadelic and rocky all at once.
Mr. B complained the whole way there (we had to drive an hour and a half to get there), pissed and moaned throughout the whole show, and got extremely cranky when the girls wanted to stay for autographs afterwards. He wanted to go home (the show ended at 10:30pm, MCR didn't come out until almost 1am) we argued and argued about it in the car while the girls waited at the gate where the buses were.
No- Mr. B doesn't quite enjoy MCR but he agreed to come anyways. I told him a million times he didn't have to go, but he went for me. What a sweetheart, right?!?
Guess what.
That bastard admitted this morning to having a good time last night.
And he knew he royally pissed me off last night, and he apologized for being so damned annoying.
Anywho- the girls got their autographs from two of the band members. The lead singer wouldn't come out with everyone waiting for him so the fans were shooed away like unwanted stray cats.
Which kinda pissed me off. To me- any celebrity has a responsibility to their fans, especially the kids. Grown ups don't need autographs because that's stalkerish and creepy. Teens and kids, well, they're just kids! Indulge them for petes sake! They buy all your overpriced merchandise the least you can do is make some sort of appearance for their sake.
And MCR has obviously never heard of an encor before. Whats this generation coming to?
Before I go- I wanted to share a dream I had the other night with an illustration following.....
I was in a room, this old man was on his death bed. He wanted to perform some sort of ritual before he died. He told me to go get a jar, the jar was filled with pickles.
Demon-posessed pickles.
The little demon pickles were singing in a high pitched voice, a song that was undiscernable to me. But that in itself is just creepy.
After that I woke up.
Demon.
Pickles.
an illustration if you will:
yes its a pretty raw description, but whatever.
RANDOM FACT ABOUT ZOOT:
I'm in no way shape or form an emo kid.
6:11 p.m. - 2007-04-27
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