May 3, 2010

Big Gigs and Prissy Dudes

I got that stupid Photobucket video to work. But now that I've talked it up so much, it's only going to let you down. So don't watch it. You won't be able to understand us, anyways. I don't, half the time.

Nevertheless, if you're going to watch it even after I told you not to, you may as well know the story. Once upon a time, in 2008 (otherwise known as the year After-Husband and Before-Boyfriend), Kort and I went to Big Gig. This is a kind of punk/pop/rock/faux-punk/crap-rock festival put on by a local radio station. Kort had four tickets because she has more connections than a 15-year-old weed dealer.

She and I were currently seeing (I use that term loosely) some brothers from Louisiana. They were hot, for sure, but they were also pains in our collective asses. The younger was grumpy and angry at the world. Everyone and everything was out to get him, to screw him over in some way we did not understand. The older was brooding and diva-like. Anything could be interpreted as a personal affront to him. Nevertheless, they had some good qualities (namely, their good looks), which is why we occasionally let them hang around.

So on this day, we took them the Big Gig with us and immediately regretted it. To start with, there were many hot men around and we suddenly felt cock-blocked inhibited (I forgot this is kind of a family-friendly blog) by the presence of these hot men. Second, from the moment we arrived, the boys started complaining. It was too hot. They wanted water. They had no money for drinks. The music sucked.

The only thing worse than a complainer is an ungrateful complainer.

Right after they immediately started to complain, we immediately started to scheme about how to politely ditch them. That is where this video comes in. As the recording begins, Kort is sitting nowhere near her half of the brothers. We begin to discuss how much better the show would be without the presence of these Southern belles.

...and now the video appears to be broken again. You're killing me, Photobucket. Okay, I'm going to just side-step the whole fancy embedding process and just post a stone-age link: Big Gig

If this link doesn't work, you'll just have to use your imagination.

You know, I never planned for this to be such a focal point. I came across the video while looking for photos of me and Kortney. I found this and thought that would be a good, indicative display of our friendship. But instead, it led to me telling a long, drawn-out story about random dudes, and well...I'm disappointed in this blog now. I would have expected more from me.

This is just getting uncomfortable now. I would just scrap this whole idea, but I'm pretty sure a couple people are now watching this sad turn of events. So, if you scroll down just a bit, you should see the video. I do not dare to click on that post to edit it, lest it decides to break too. I'm going to not even look at it. I'm going to step away and not look backward. I really think Blogger is trying to keep me from posting this video. It's yelling, "Don't do it, Kelli! It's just not worth it."

Touche, Blogger, touche.

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