Missing the pit...

To get it out of the way, no I have not worked out, in fact I doubt if I will at all this week. And right now, don't care. It sucks, and yes I know I'm setting myself back, I'll get back to it when I'm out of my funk.

Onto the pit!

Last night I went to see Airbourne, The Joe Perry Project, and Motley Crue. I loved both the Crue and Airbourne, I was very very unimpressed with JPP. But good lord ladies...oh the hair, and the leather, and the man hips just a movin...yum. Add to it that I only now discovered that Tommy Lee plays piano (yeah I know, I'm not all that observant), he's a new crush. I can't help myself. I adore piano players.

Because these tix to see the Crue were a very last minute Christmas present from the hub we got stuck with nosebleeds. Decent ones mind you, we could actually see the band...they were the height of my son's GI Joes...but still, we could see them. It was probably better that I wasn't down where I belong though, because oh yes, the pit IS where I belong. I'm pretty sure I've been sportin a slight fever the past couple days, which would explain my insane need for sleep, my throat's been raw and I know it's no longer because the amount of cigarettes I've smoked, I'm out of denial, I'm sick. Damn it.

Either way, while I sat up in my nosebleeds (because I felt faint so was lame and sat), I stared down over the standing floor area. That fenced off area right by the stage, close enough for the spit showers. I could close my eyes and feel it, experience it...and fuck me did I miss it. I can't even explain every feeling, imagine the scent of sex, sweat, booze, excitement, anger, love, fear...feeling the bass and drums thump through your body, nearly stopping and restarting your heart to its rhythm, the wet hard bodies surrounding you, pushing you, screaming with you, dancing, fighting, aching to get closer to those that we idolize and adore. Oh and fuck if you actually get to meet the band, lucky enough to follow them back to their hotel (yes I have...semi local ish bands...no one big unfortunately, but one day, oh one day, I will have my Sully).

As I was sitting in row 233 next to a camo wearin pot smokin lame-o tryin to be a badass...I realized how old I am. Fuck. I'm a mom now, I can't even afford the fucking tickets to hit the floor and elbow my way up to the fence. No more ogling band members and those sexy ass serious faced rent a cops. Some of them could have patted me down anyday.

One day though, I'm going to treat myself. And I will be right there. Making fuck me eyes to the vocalist, guitarist, bassist, drummer...because that's how you end up in the good places, and get the best pictures. Yeah I know, blah blah, I'm married. My hubby knew all this about me before we got together. He knows nothing actually happens...but that doesn't mean I won't play up my "assets" to get what I want. I'm a dirty girl.

And I say all this as I sit at my comp in a hoodie and jeans, hair tied up in a pony, kidlet playin with his GI Joe planes...yeah...dirty girl. Le fucking sigh.