You Too Anyone?

Oops, I think I misspelled that. I meant to spell it like this, U2. Cause that’s where we’re going tonight.

In case you don’t know my husband, he’s super super cheap. We’ve been to one concert together in the past decade, Neil Diamond, and that was practically at gunpoint. He loves music and hates paying people for entertainment (unless there’s a ball involved).

But last week for his birthday he surprised me. “Honey,” he said, “I think I know what I want for my birthday. Let’s go to the U2 concert.”

He got on Cougarboard, his go to site for any and all information regarding man-related issues, and asked if anyone had tickets to sell. Luckily, some guy emailed him back and offered to sell us two tickets in row 22 at cost.

Apparently, this guy feels very strongly that U2 is a religious experience, and that profiting from the sale of these tickets would be like selling tickets to see the prophet. Bless his religious heart.

Due to Jason’s work schedule and our move, we had to give up taking a trip to Mexico this past week to see a dear life long friend of mine get hitched. I’ve been super depressed about it, so he took me to St. George and Vegas for two days so I could cry in the sun. We decided to leave the kids and the baby behind.

I repeat, we left the baby (in good hands with her sweet Aunt Hayley and Uncle Jake who looks like a Pedro with his rocking mustache).

This is the first time in her life I’ve been away from her for more than a few hours (most of which she spends sleeping) and it wasn’t easy. I was sad for at least seventeen minutes. Then we stopped for gas and both got to go inside because THERE WERE NO KIDS IN THE CAR.

During our time in Vegas, I wasn’t myself. Literally. My dear old friend (and Jason’s favorite playmate) Natasha took over for the day and acted in her usual slutty manner–outfit included.

I didn’t think this would be a problem since I wasn’t going to see anyone I know (DeNae, stop yelling at me, you know I love you), but it turns out Jason had made arrangements to meet the dude and buy the tickets.

The dude from Cougar board. The nice, religious, Mormon, family dude who would never ever think of stepping out on his wife with a trampy broad like Natasha. The same guy we’ll be sitting by tonight at the concert.

And me in my stupid stilettos.

He texted Jason to tell him he was waiting in the parking lot of the restaurant, so J handed me the keys. “Don’t worry,” he said, “He won’t even see you. Just head to the car and I’ll get the tickets from him.”

I turned and started trouncing along in my uber short shorts and deathly high heels, happy to be out of range. Happy, that is, until I saw that parked one car away from our vehicle was a suburban full of kids. And a dad. It looked like they were waiting for some…

Do I really need to tell you more?

The moral of this story is simple. Never buy U2 tickets from a nice Mormon guy if your wife is dressed like a slut because she’ll feel the need to explain herself at the concert. And if her name is Annie, she’s going to tell him and his wife way more about your life than you ever wanted anyone to know.

Happy birthday, darling!