Or the account of my decline into barbarism (and all of the lovely, mad people who helped me do it).

Saturday, July 17, 2010


"I don't want to know my name," I said, clutching a bottle of chardonnay.

I drank the whole bottle in twenty minutes. Savannah and I were considering becoming lesbians with each other and then I had my head in a bucket. I held Aaron's hand while people stroked my hair and spoke to me in small voices. We didn't go to bed until 3 AM, and then we woke up at 8 AM to drive to Charlotte for the John Mayer concert with Rachel. I slept in my makeup and contacts and contracted an eye infection. God's own way of kicking my ass.

In Charlotte, we weaved through traffic and listened to thunder. My GPS is a dumb bitch so we got lost on our way to find "The Best Soul Food in the Southeast" because Rachel and I are chronic dieters and deserved a little treat. Unfortunately, that goddamn restaurant doesn't exist so we settled on a steak house.

After that, we got ready and headed to the VIP section of the concert. We had incredible seats and I could see Johnny perfectly. He opened with my favorite song, "Vultures", and performed his encore on the lawn. On his way back to the stage, he came within a few feet of Rachel and me. We clutched each other and squealed.

After the concert, we ate pancakes at IHOP and Rachel walked barefoot out of the restaurant. All in all, it was an incredible 48 hours that only solidified how much I love my best friends. They're there whether I'm puking into a paint bucket or screaming into their ears at a concert.

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