all the good girls go to heaven
Feb. 26th, 2007 06:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thejunipertreeTooly fangirl time, from last night's show at
I've got a lot of words in my brain about my experiences last night, but whenever I try to start talking about them, they mostly just come out as: hee!
Best show ever, period. PERIOD.
This does not have much to do with Joanna giving beer to fifteen year olds, the two of us sneaking into general admission, meflailing dancing myself into an early grave, being covered in black and silver confetti, pogoing, singing myself hoarse, or standing around the stage door for almost four hours in the pouring freezing rain only to be thwarted by seven covert tour buses.
This also does not have much to do with Joanna and I announcing during the beginning of Cancer that this song was specifically for "daughters who lost their mothers to cancer, but insist on smoking anyway". And it also doesn't have anything to do with crying during the same song.
It also doesn't have anything to do with making friends by the stage door and not learning their names until they leave three and a half hours later. Sharing BBQ kettle chips, stress tea, cherry clove cigarettes, and gum doesn't have anything to do with it, either.
It doesn't have anything to do with the energy that the band put out. Or that the fans gave back to them. It doesn't have anything to do with Gerard on a hospital gurney or microphone cord cunninglingus.
Nor does it have anything to do with my eyebrows and all my eye makeup staying on my face afterflailing like a fool dancing or standing in the rain for hours. Or Vitamin Water, hysterical laughter, and cigarettes at four a.m. in my kitchen.
It especially doesn't have a single thing to do with hearing almost every single one of my favourite songs by this band (except for The Jet Set Life is Gonna Kill You).
...
Oh, wait.
Yeah, it does.
I've got a lot of words in my brain about my experiences last night, but whenever I try to start talking about them, they mostly just come out as: hee!
Best show ever, period. PERIOD.
This does not have much to do with Joanna giving beer to fifteen year olds, the two of us sneaking into general admission, me
This also does not have much to do with Joanna and I announcing during the beginning of Cancer that this song was specifically for "daughters who lost their mothers to cancer, but insist on smoking anyway". And it also doesn't have anything to do with crying during the same song.
It also doesn't have anything to do with making friends by the stage door and not learning their names until they leave three and a half hours later. Sharing BBQ kettle chips, stress tea, cherry clove cigarettes, and gum doesn't have anything to do with it, either.
It doesn't have anything to do with the energy that the band put out. Or that the fans gave back to them. It doesn't have anything to do with Gerard on a hospital gurney or microphone cord cunninglingus.
Nor does it have anything to do with my eyebrows and all my eye makeup staying on my face after
It especially doesn't have a single thing to do with hearing almost every single one of my favourite songs by this band (except for The Jet Set Life is Gonna Kill You).
...
Oh, wait.
Yeah, it does.
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(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-27 03:14 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-02-27 09:23 pm (UTC)