That said, here I am visiting my boyfriend, Gary Lightbody.
You can't really see Gary, which is kind of how it was for me, too. The Captain and I stood on the floor, which isn't the best place for the vertically challenged. I think concert venues should follow school rules, and line everyone up by height. Then Gary clearly would have recognized me as one of his most ardent over-40 fans (I would lose in the finals to the ladies who tipple, because drunk babes are a little looser, you know), and invited me onstage to sing with him. Which I would do in a heartbeat, a characteristic of mine the Captain finds fascinating, yet horrifying, similar to body piercing.
It took a day or two to recover from the concert because I am, as previously mentioned, over 40. And it's not like I have any down time. Life's a go-go, baby, and I'm just trying to shimmy fast enough that I don't lose my pole position. (How's that for a stripper/NASCAR mash-up? We aim for all demographics.)
In between the dancing, I'm trying to finish my manuscript before next weekend. My fingers are typing as fast as they can, when I'm not falling asleep at my keyboard. Wish me luck, people, because my back-up plan left for Canada without me.
Gary! Wait! I know all the lyrics!