Drove to Lockport, just north of Buffalo, last night to see the B-52's with the kiddos and the boy next door.
Gorgeous night. Outdoor show.
Pretty sure the entire city of Buffalo smokes. Until last night, I wouldn't have guessed that a cloud of smoke could hover over a crowd outside; I would have been wrong. Blech.
Son #1 told me that I was allowed to dance but made me promise that I would not make any of my crazy rally cries. I acquiesced. The lady next to me did not make any such agreement. After one of her howling outcries, I received the snake eye and responded, "I swear to God, that wasn't me."
When she did it again, he was stunned. Yes, I am not alone in my madness. (Hey, so don't that make you feel a whole lot better, huh?)
Everybody goes to parties. They dance this mess around.
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