When bandom invades your real life.

Today I woke up at 11 AM.

11 AM.

Seriously. I can't remember the last time that happened. I was fifteen, I think. I was sure that sleeping less and less was the biggest clue you're getting older. I feel really old but I still slept like a baby after last night's activities.


So last night we went to Sting's concert. Sting is the husband's most loved artist. And Symphonicity was such a gorgeous concert, I'm still trying to process it. Two hours of incredible music, the Philharmonic Orchestra was amazing and Sting sounded even better alive. The husband was teary eyed the whole time, and it was magical. A beautiful night, lovely company and one of the husband's happiest moments.

It promised to be a very romantic night.



And then... then Sting took his harmonic, stroke a pose and I was all "Shit, that's totally the Gerard Way's pose, you bitch!" and I started to laugh hysterically. The husband thought I was just overwhelmed, and put a comforting arm around my shoulders. That only made me laugh even more.

( The night Sting was a Killjoy )

I had the time of my life, guys. My stomach muscles still hurt. That was better than a workout.


And the husband was really happy I enjoyed the concert, that I was just that into it, that he promised me he'll accompany me to a concert of my choice, even if my music is not exactly his cup of tea.


I'm so taking him to an Adam Lambert concert...
I can't wait to see his face. He's not going to know what hit him.