The $12 cover charge for a girl who doesn't drink. The smoke filled bar. The three drunk freshmen at the front fighting for front stage. The guy who asked me what I did for a living (followed by beer out the nose when I told him I was a SAHM). The country boy just there to enjoy the show. Barefoot in the background watching me and laughing her ass off (thanks for the support). The roadie jammin' up front. The beer spilled down my back. The guy who's hand I had to slap ("mom" role kicking in). The opening band #1. Totally rocked. The opening band #2. Totally entertaining.
And then... Kevin Martin. (former lead singer of Candlebox)
Thanks for the beautiful voice. Thanks for the eye candy.
It was all TOTALLY worth it.
My self esteem point system.
2 points for getting carded at the door.
1 point for getting a glance behind the girlfriend's back.
4 points for getting offered a drink.
1 point for drunk guy #1 saying to his buddy, "she's hot."
-1 point for being called a _____, for making him put the beer DOWN.
5 points for guy hitting on me and asking rather personal questions.
(bonus 2 points for him acting as my body guard the rest of the night.)
10 points for Kevin Martin looking right at me and saying,
"and you're gonna get more, baby."
6 points for him shaking my hand during his last song.
8 points for him signing my cd after the show.
10 points for that smile as I walk away.
If you want more details, you'll have to ask Barefoot (as I clearly only remember the whole night as one hazy dream!)
That's a total of 48 points to get me through tomorrow's diaper changes, wet beds, canine piss on the bedroom floor, piled up laundary, screaming toddlers, unshaved legs, realizing I am no longer 16 years old, and my never ending saga of the flat mormon butt syndrome.
When I reach 500, I'll have successfully become Keira Knightly. (she's hot)