First things first–I have new creative nonfiction up over at Neutrons Protons.

Paul came home from his Saturday-morning tai chi class on the phone with his mom, while I was in the middle of watching a Mark Reads 50 Shades of Grey video, which I enjoy because we have similar reactions to that trash book. But naturally, any video that involves porn being read in the background while Paul’s mom could hear it isn’t a good idea. I should’ve turned it up instead of turning it off, though.

Now, I swore to myself some years ago that I would never again attend a free concert in Fayette County because it pretty much brings out the worst crowds. In retrospect, this might’ve had more to do with the fact that the free concert in question was the Black Eyed Peas. I’m sure I blogged about it at the time, but that blog has since died and gone to Blog Heaven. Some girl burned a hole in the jacket I had tied around my waist with her cigarette, allegedly because we were “mean.” In retrospect, we were probably a bit obnoxious, but given that we never spoke to this girl until another girl nearby told us she saw her burning it, saying we were downright mean is a bit of a stretch. And then a guy had to pee, so he whipped his dick out and did it in an empty (I think) bottle right in the middle of the crowd, splashing the legs of someone in front of him. On top of all this, the band was late as fuck and not very good anyway, being the Black Eyed Peas and all. I’m sure there’s also a lesson buried in here somewhere about going to free events you don’t want to go to, but I was a broke teenager and all my friends were going. I’m sure there’s also a lesson in here somewhere about not doing things just because your friends are.

Anyway, the point is I broke my own promise to myself for Beatlemania at the local Penn State campus. We saw them with Terra (and Lilly) last year, plus it was a chance to do laundry for free at my parents’ house. And pick up my mail and car registration and three weeks’ worth of Schwan’s food orders I’d kept forgetting about. Thank God it’s frozen food.

We made a pit stop in town for lunch at Fiesta Azteca, Paul’s favorite, and made plans to hook up with Sarah at the concert, since she’d apparently been wanting to go but had no one to go with.

Honestly, I’m glad she mentioned it first. I’d thought about asking her to go, but I still get hung up in confusion about who from the Craigs even wants to hang out with more anymore, despite my New Year’s resolution to be a more proactive friend about these things and put myself out there under the assumption that if someone doesn’t want to hang out with me, it’s on them to respectfully decline and/or confront me about whatever lingering issues there might be, rather than being on me to assume the worst and isolate myself. Even more.

We had a good time. The band didn’t sound as great as they did last year, and unfortunately, a lot of their jokes fell flat. I mean, they were funny, but the crowd just wasn’t into it. We had three theories: 1) given the county’s drug problem, everyone was high 2) everyone was coming down from a high 3) most people just went because it was something free to do. I mean, they cheered more for the fireworks at the very end of the night than they did the actual band and music, so I’m inclined to go with #3.

Afterward, Sarah wanted to go for a drink, so we went to the Firehouse. She asked us to keep going with her since Nolan was in town and out, too, but it was already late by our standards and I had promised Terra a shopping trip for Sunday morning–a shopping trip that ended up being much longer and much more exhausting than I anticipated.

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