You and me and my old friends, hoping it would never end...

I have a really good excuse for not blogging last night...I was at the Daughtry/Bon Jovi concert! (As you may recall...Bon Jovi was one of the stars featured in my celebrity sex dream post a while back. I swear he's the only man that can pull off a lame-ass Superman tattoo. Well...he doesn't really pull it off...but you can kind of look past it.)

Sister and I really wanted to go together, but it sold out quickly and tickets were super $$. So when my boss...who we'll call Clairee (that's her alter-ego who drinks too much wine and has a serious shoe shopping addiction), told me one of her friends backed out and there was an extra ticket, I was in!

I'll admit... I was a little hesitant to hang out with a bunch of small town 40-somethings with kids...Clairee is super cool, but I'd never met the three friends who were driving in from out-of-town to join us. But I'd heard the stories of their wild girls' weekends...so I knew I'd fit in.

We had a suite at a hotel near the venue and started the night with several glasses of wine. Then onto the show...which was fab - even though the only thing I know about Daughtry is that is was on American Idol and has a kind of chubby wife (which makes me like him). And our seats weren't great, but they weren't terrible. Still, once Jon and "Richie Samoa" (as Clairee calls him) came on, it didn't matter. They were great and played everything I wanted to hear!

After the show we had our cab driver (a sweet older lady who admitted to sex with her man 5 times a week!) take us for some fast-food Mexican. I ate, went to bed and woke up with the worst heartburn I've ever had in my life.

As I was driving into work this morning (after stopping at a convenience store to buy some Pepsid), I realized that 40-somethings are actually about my speed.