Parachute!

According to my family the blog has become quite depressing {not their actual words, but when your sister calls after reading it to make sure your not suicidal you start putting two and two together}.

In order to become less emo, I’m about to go full on rainbow, sparkles, and moonshine. Prepare to have sunshine thrown in your face!

This weekend Anna and I got tickets to PARACHUTE!

For those of you that have never experienced happiness {a.k.a. Parachute} here is a definition:

Parachute: noun. Five fantastic men that wow with their magnificent lyrics, catchy beats and powerful love songs.... plus the lead singer is to die for. Their music can most commonly be heard blasting from Lora Patterson’s bedroom. Her favorite songs are She (for liz), She is Love, What I know, Forever and Always and many more.

Friday finds me in a car on route to Salt Lake with Ms. Anna, music blasting, chocolate everywhere.

We arrive on location to find that the concert is in fact 100 people in a sketch bar in downtown Salt Lake. Upon entering we are pleasantly surprised to see that we are only mere yards from the stage.

Then the magic started

The opening act was Kate Voegle. Decent, but not Parachute.

She ends and the moment we’ve been waiting for is only minutes away and Anna and I wanted more than anything to get closer to the stage and meet up with Anna’s friends.

We slide through the crowd until we come upon that one weirdi guy that has been full blown dancing and singing to all of Kate’s songs…clearly not the most ideal location.

As we are deciding our best plan for getting to her friends said weirdi starts to be rather rude and even says some…um...unpleasant things about us to his friend. I really can’t explain what came over me, maybe I’ve finally inherited my mother’s spunk, but I decided to have a little chat with this fellow.

I simply told him he and I both knew I could hear his conversation and perhaps it would be easier if he just addressed me. I then told him there was no need for such language and that he should cease his jerky behavior. Then Anna and I went back to the concert.

And then they came in and the crowd went wild.

For the next two hours Anna and I were entranced, they were....brilliant.

Dreams really do come true.

The concert came quickly to an end because the drag queens needed the space for their costume party... I’m not kidding, the night just kept getting better and better.

On our way home Anna and I just kept smiling and silently wondering if we would ever recover fully functioning ear drums again.

The Neon Clad Tyrant

After the fiasco that ensued the last time I wrote about a boy I have firmly decided to never write about this gender ever again. But alas I have come in contact with what could possibly be the most obnoxious boy to ever grace a literature class. And now I find it hard not to compose scathing reviews of his very character and choice of clothes while suffering through his pompous banter. {ya I wrote this during class... you would to if you were reading Christabel for the 3rd time!}

He is a neon clad tyrant who sits high in his corner seat waiting to swoop in and save us from our failed attempts to glean personal truths from the text. Then he deems to enlighten us to his 'correct' way of thinking with his pointless and condescending opinions. Heaven forbid the nice lady {she's over 40 so I can call her this} dare comment without receiving an eye roll accompanied by an audible sigh.

He even has the audacity to go full on tool with the teacher {nothing bothers me more than someone being disrespectful to a teacher}. Example;


Teacher: Neon Clad Tyrant, why do you believe that really dumb thing you just said {this may or may not be what he actually said...but it's close}


NCT: It's self explanatory {gasp} {eye roll} is there really any point to me explaining it. {EXACTLY what he did}


He even was foolish enough to pull that with me. Here's what happened, the teacher told us to divide into groups and discuss our papers. I unfortunately sat too close to the NCT and was roped into his group. When I asked the NCT about his paper he looked at me, looked back at his papers, started rubbing his ever-rolling-eyes in frustration, looked back at his paper and physically turned away from me.


To which I responded by laughing and laughing and laughing {I have come to learn that nothing annoys an arrogant boy more than laughing at him}.


Now on to his clothes. His colors of choice have a running theme of random, bright, madness. Who ever thought to pair neon yellow pants with red socks and purple shoes had to be deeply intoxicated. Where do you even find these clothes {perhaps the men's section of Forever 21}. Each outfit is more disturbing than the last and makes me question his right to criticize other peoples opinions while his ability to choose a wardrobe is so obviously lacking.


So what makes me so brazen to post about his boy without fear that he will find out. Three reasons:


1. I'm positive we have no friends in common. There is no way on this green earth that any friend of mine would associate with this fiend.


2. He would never lower himself to read the rif raf that is this blog.


3. I kind of hope he does read this. Maybe it will make him reconsider his life choices; namely his choices to be rude, intolerant, and ill-dressed.