I Hate Parades.

Add this to the hundredth reason you no longer want to hang out, but I am not a fan of parades. I would rather do any number of tedious, unpleasant things than attend a parade including stabbing myself in the face with a fork. Andy and I had been married three years before this ever came up. And when our eyes met for the first time after admitting our mutual loathing for parades, I fell in love all over again.

Because horse crap aside, I have so many unanswered questions. Like who are these old men driving by in cars waving benignly? And what is the appeal of a float? Floats kind of lost their edge with the invention of special effects didn't they? And who are these sad nameless people sitting atop said floats, chucking taffy? And where is the magic in that? If I have a hankering I can buy and entire bag of unhandled taffy at the store any day of the week without having to bake on my folding chair in the sun for an hour surrounded by the sweating masses dying slowly of unimaginable boredom.

I know; You love parades. You, and practically every other human being on the planet. I couldn't even find an appropriately sad parade picture for this post. Even Google couldn't fathom what a "lame parade" might look like, which is what I typed into its search engine. "Do you mean Lemon Parade?" "Do you mean Happy Happy Fun Time Parade?" No Google, but thank you for confirming what I already knew: I am missing something. Maybe I'm a robot.

The Best Concert Ever.

Dear Diary,
April 5th was the MUSE CONCERT! Diane watched the girls while Andy and I had the greatest musical experience of our lives. The opening band was kind of lame. You will probably never hear of them Diary seeing how you are an inanimate object, but take it from me: The Silversun Pickups are generic noise. Although, from a glass-half-full perspective it was kind of like watching a pompous Steve Buchemi moon walk across stage ("Best guitar player in the world thank you pop!") and I can’t really complain about that. And the fact that they have a female bass player is pretty cool. But between SP and Muse let us make no comparison. As soon as Muse started playing I felt transported to a plain of pure awesomeness the likes of which I will never forget.
The stage, the effects, the lighting, the incredible talent of Matthew Bellamy on vocals, lead guitar, AND piano- HOLY CRAP. And though I remain firmly anti-smoking, I've got to admit Christopher Wolstenholm playing bass in a haze of cigarette smoke was extremely badass. Not to mention impressive multi-tasking. Dominic Howard was genius on drums. It was amazing. Every song was gorgeous. I've rarely been so star-struck, I've rarely seen Andy so pumped. We kept waiting for them to play "Knights of Cydonia". It was their last song. I couldn't not scream and jump up and down like a cheerleader at a shoe-sale. It was fantastic experience and the best concert ever. If we ever have another opportunity to see them live- you bet your sweet hiney we will be there.

Perchance I Flipped You Off in Traffic.

Believe it or not there are people out there who do not like me. I've tried explaining this to my mother but she just looks at me like I'm insane. Kinda like I just told her I've settled on becoming a chicken. Then she gets that knowing look; "Is this some kind of prank? Am I on that stupid show?" Then she just gets straight up pissed because why WHY! would I even say something so ridiculous unless it was designed to make her mad? When all along I was simply stating a fact.

Some people simply do not like me. It could have something to do with the fact that I'm a huge nerd that dresses in costume whenever the occasion allows. Or maybe that I tend to take the joke too far. Perhaps I'm too open with my very particular tastes and opinions. Maybe its my hair. Maybe its my glasses. Maybe its my sense of humor. Maybe its because I'm somewhat lame. Maybe its the way I talk or don't talk. Or smell? Or it could be that I'm really really friggin nice and awesome. Who the heck knows?

I don't know and I don't care. Yes I do. But as Andy says, its something I'm going to have to accept. In a perfect world no one would misunderstand your quirks. Or stereotype you. Or judge you before knowing you. And everyday would be either cool and sunny or warm and rainy. And hydrangeas would grow lush in Utah, and chocolate tortes w/ strawberries would be served breakfast lunch and dinner. And I would have very little to blog about.