The first of two posts for this wonderful weekend. Post one:
sitting behind us at the concert Saturday night
Dear Gaping Assholes ...
Yes, I know why you went to the concert. You were supporting someone and that is admirable. I don't personally know you ... but I assume your presence meant a lot to the group. So kudos on your gesture of love and support, brah ...
Having gotten that out of the way ...
If you hated the band that much, why not step back about 25 feet to the bar area and have your conversation back there? What in the name of great blue fuck made you think it was cool to sit three feet behind us ... and yell ... at the top of your lungs ... for an hour???
Know how you were having to yell to hear one another? I'm not sure if you noticed, but there was a band playing. Those guys who came to eat dinner with us? The ones everybody kinda fawned over? Yeah, those guys. They were performing ... and most of us were there to hear them play.
No one came hear about your Disney trip ... or listen to your inebriated definition of the word encore. Guess what, genius? Everyone knows what an encore is. The band coming back out for a few more songs was neither a surprise nor proof or your clairvoyance.
You fucktards were rude and inconsiderate ... and I promise you ... if you weren't loved ones of our gracious hosts, I would've happily handed you a five and invited you to go next door and have a hot, steaming cup of go-fuck-yourself on me.
For the record, this post would've been much more colorful had I had my laptop last night. I laid my head on the pillow ... foul words running through my head like a river. Trust me ... this post is like Jayne Eyre in comparison to what I would've typed last night.
So ... in conclusion ... don't be a douchecanoe ... go to the bar or shut the fuck up. The choice is entirely up to you ... because life is all about choices.
Sincerely,
Your friendly neighborhood ThirtyWhat
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