Does anybody read these?

Are you ready? Are you ready?

Write or work out? Write or work out?

Well, you don’t get a physique like mine if you spent your whole life choosing working out over writing… Seriously, though. I am going to write this and then I’m going to hit the treadmill. It’ll be great. Besides everyone else swears that someone else has lost weight and is looking good. Whatever’s in the water he’s drinking, I’m all about it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself… Let’s start at the beginning.

I spent waaaayyyy too much time getting ready Tuesday. WHY do I procrastinate?!? Why?!? And why do I say every time that next time I won’t do it? I also do. I need to end the lie, because God knows I think that ending the procrastinating isn’t going to happen.

So, I leave the house 7ish Wednesday to pick up Rosalie at the airport (after an all-nighter, I might mention…thank God for coffee!) I grab her and we head over to Luke’s house, which is half-way between Columbus and Dayton. We assembled the gift bags for all our friends (We’re not giving Sonya hers until Saturday, so I’ll take a pic so you can see how awesome they are!), took naps, and then Rosalie prettied up and we hit the road again.

It only took about an hour to get to Dayton. We stopped at my favorite store and I got the cutest outfit. (I realized as I was packing that I really needed new jeans.) So, after we were done, we headed to the rental car outfit to pick up Toma and Gretchen. The second they got there, the fun began. I’ve known Gretchen for over a year now, and known Rosalie and Toma for months, but I hadn’t met the latter two yet. (Gretchen was my partner in crime last year for Opening Weekend.) Toma’s hilarious. Like stand-up comedian hilarious. Maybe funnier than Janine Garafolo. We just seemed like we’ve all known each other since birth. We all just clicked.

So, we headed to our hotel, which is the Inn at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. Amazing. I haven’t been on a military installation since my dad drug me to Fort Knox as a kid. I just can’t believe it. It’s pretty much its own city within Dayton’s walls. I think it’s one of the largest AFBs in the United States, if I remember correctly. And our accommodations? Wowsers. We’re in the “Distinguished Visitors’ Quarters,” which is basically where they put generals and the like. This is EASILY the nicest hotel room I’ve ever stayed in, and it costs $43.50 a night. It’s a two-bedroom suite. It has two very nice-sized bedrooms, plus a living room/dining room/kitchenette area. We’re living the life, I tell you. I’m going to be sad to go to the Hyatt Saturday morning. It will be a total let-down after this shack, especially at $169/night.

This is going to be the longest post ever. Maybe I should do the concert separately? We’re still on Wednesday. Ooops, sidebar. Don’t worry. Thursday’s on its way!

So, we’re on our way to the hotel and for some reason I was in charge of leading. Hello? I’ve only been to Dayton like three times in my life. Ohio is big. (Another sidebar: I met my ex, Mike in Dayton. April 1997. In case you didn’t know that. Rosalie didn’t know that he broke up with me by sending me all my belongings in a box when he moved to D.C. and that I listened to “What I Need to Do” for three days straight after that happened. Told her at the show last night. More on that another day.)

OK, so I’m leading. Toma’s in the other car. Going to an Air Force Base I’ve never seen before in my life. So we get to an intersection and there’s the arena, taunting me on the corner. So, since I don’t know where I’m going, I decide we’re snooping. The girls call me from the other car and say “We need to turn left.” OK, yeah, we’ll get there. Right now we’re gonna go get the lay of the land. So, we make a swing around the arena to see what’s up.

One hundred and thirty people work for the Big Guy (or The Princess, as we’ve taken to calling him). That’s a lot of people. So, seriously, honestly, what are the chances of the ONE that I want to see being the only one standing outside the arena by the buses? Honestly? Because he was. (At least now the others understand that I have LoJack on his ass and can find him ANYWHERE. Is it a connection? Or am I just Joyce? Really, I’m not sure yet. I don’t actively stalk; I just find.)

So, we see him. Gretchen and I squeal. Toma, on the other hand, “accidentally” peels out with her car. He looks right at her. So, then I really feel like Joyce. (I know some of you have no idea what that means. Think “Super Fan” in a stalkerish way. Some day I’ll explain her. Maybe later today! With pics!) So, we are leaving. But for some reason I feel compelled to give it another whirl around the parking lot. I swear, he’s like crack. I can’t help it. But all in all, not bad for the first 17 minutes of our trip.

Dinner was Spaghetti Warehouse, although I was very sad they didn’t have a lot that Rosalie could eat on her restrictive diet right now. I felt like shit, because I suggested the restaurant. But Oh.My.God, the food there is so freaking good. I had the wild mushroom pasta. I could sit in a giant bowl of that and eat my way out. I never finish my meal anywhere these days, and I ate every little bite. We enjoyed our food and had soooooo much fun. Didn’t drink a drop and were absolutely crazy. I am surprised that we didn’t get kicked out when Toma did her Cheri Oteri impersonation. Hilarious.

So, after staying up way too late and eating way too much, we were up bright and early on Thursday for the fun. I hopped out of bed at 7:00 a.m. and dragged Rosalie and Toma to the gym with me. Then we went to the commissary to buy food. Lots o’ food. And let me tell you about the prices for the military. We bought a cart load of food and booze, lots o’ booze for $100. My little purple bag of liquid fun cost $12. I need to marry a fighter pilot so I can shop here all the time.

We met Julie and Lynn for lunch, and once again the other patrons probably wished that a giant hole in the earth would suck us up and make it end. It’s not our fault our booth had a stripper pole next to it. But I could tell over our burgers that we were going to have a very fun day.

And we did. For the most part. We got primo parking right up at the arena because Julie sweet-talked the security guy. We had an absolute blast. Unfortunately a few Crazies from the fan club showed up, got drunk, decided they were our best friends and then wouldn’t go away. Oh well. Some people you add alcohol, and it’s instant asshole. This one girl seemed fine when she was sober. Four beers later and we wanted to run over her with our car. And we couldn’t escape her at the concert. All freaking night she kept running into us. At the point where she started hugging me in the booze line, I just might’ve accidentally elbowed her in the gut to get her to let go. Accidentally, of course.

Then the show came. Toma and Gretchen had great seats. Rosalie and I had good seats. They could’ve been much worse. I guess the best thing about having a huge crush on one of the production guys is that I could figure things out before they happened (like the swing being back, baby…) but other things were a surprise like the girl with hooters and a bikini top on the swing throwing trinkets into the crowd. It was a great show, although I really expected The K-man (nickname count for this post: 3) to shake it up a little more. Seriously. I’ve been a fan for 10 years, and it looks the same every time. So you added a couple new songs and a girl who looks like a hooker giving people gifts, you can do better.

Certain people – ahem – were the busiest I’ve ever seen them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him work so hard. Or look so hot. It was khaki pants and glasses day. If he’d turned his hat backwards, I’d have launched myself over the railing and had my way with him right up against the wall of the Sandbar. Well, everyone would’ve gotten their 80 bucks worth, I guess. Poor thing, running around like crazy making sure everything happened, and, of course, doing the job of six arena security guards. During the last song, he finally started to smile and breathe and have a good time. I felt kind of bad for him, but I know that he’s doing what he loves. Of course, it’d be nicer if he had a little more time to pay attention to me. But I like it when he works. He looks all sexy when he opens a can of whoop-ass on overzealous fans.

So, nothing much happened yesterday, but I’m working on a plan for today. Sometime before the end of this weekend, something is going to happen. I just don’t know what it’ll be yet. But rest assured, I’ll be sure to keep you posted…

posted by Laura at 10:13 AM