I Hate Preteens. Que No Veas.

I made the mistake of going to a concert last night.  My grandma body just can't handle that new-age rock 'n roll.

I get this monthly, y'all.

[via Paddyblog]

I want to live my life to the fullest, I REALLY DO. But my body has other plans, like sleeping forever and being tired until I surrender myself to sleep once more.  Alas.

I went to the concert called Summer Jam, put on by one of  the local radio stations.  This thing started at 6 and I got out of work at 5, rushed home, switched cars (please don't ask), and drove to the island it was on.

First of all, I would like a round of applause for getting there in half an hour.  So I'm walking down a sketchy dirt road, looking for this damn island and I started following a herd of people.

I think the tallest person there was me.  Now I'm relatively tall, topping off 5'11" on a good day in flats.  I was in a sea of side swept hair and booty shorts and high-pitched laughter.

I was in a sea of preteens.

And they all looked like this.
[via rosambrookphotography]

OH SWEET BABY JESUS.


COME ON.


They all galloped along to the concert while I mentally evaluated my life.  I felt so old.  I felt so tall.  Slight regret was setting in.

But I meet up with my homies and the first set of artists begin to play.

Guys...no words.  Perhaps it wasn't my kind of music.  Perhaps it was the blending of the boy band music and the fangirl screams, but Summer Jam didn't exactly kick off to the best start.

I'm the dude in the tie.
[via Candy95]

The music was progressively getting more tolerant.  Some Disney band performed.  The lead singer looked like a love child between the guy Shane from YouTube and Carrot Top.  For your viewing pleasure, I created the hybrid.

That's about right.
[via MY AWESOME BRAIN]

My ears were bleeding, but every parent around me was getting drunk on those tall ghetto cans of Bud Light. Oh the hilarity that ensued.

I was sitting on the grass, sipping some water and a few twenty-somethings stumbled over to where my friends and I were vegging.  They had those cans in their hands, and let me tell you - it was not their first (or eighth can).  These ladies were about five feet away from me, and it was obvious that they were having a great time.  They were laughing and laughing and laughing until one of them announced that she just peed herself.

Peed. Herself.


They kept laughing and having a great time.  They apologized to us and I promptly updated my Facebook status.

And then I look the other way and hear a wave of supersonic screams.  Someone obviously famous was coming on next and he was the Australian equivalent of the Biebs.

I've never heard of him but I guess he's pretty big.

Yeah I think he's 9 too.
[via codysimpsontickets]

Cody Simpson was there and he was serenading everyone under fourteen.  UGH.

At this point, all I had to do was pee.  I hadn't gone to the loo in hours and my bladder was having none of it. I thought I was about to pull a Random-Drunk-Apologetic-Stranger...

So I went to the port-a-potty.  I just want to start this little anecdote off with letting you know that I think that port-a-potties are vile.  I mean, you're cramped in this little space and it smells like what I can imagine hell will smell like, they're hot, and you can see everyone's damn excrement.  I never want to see raw sewage.  Come on. I can't even finish talking about it because I'm so disgusted.

Five seconds from chundering right now.
[via Nashillescene]

But the one I had to endure yesterday took the cake.  Holy mother of God did it take the cake.  I'm not going to go into much detail, but let me just tell you that I had to wipe off the entire toilet seat AS WELL AS THE ENTIRE DAMN BACK WALL to get the effing pee off.  It was like someone thought it would be entertaining to just pee everywhere BUT in the toilet seat.  You know, for giggles.

What is wrong with today's generation.


Vile.

VILE.

After that FIASCO, the rest of the night was actually pretty enjoyable.  I danced like a loser, laughed a lot and played a wonderful game (and lost).  As usual.

I engineered a very efficient method of opening those giant Pixy-Stix (you know, the ones you can't open without scissors).

Me. Only with orange Pixy Stix.  Orange ROCKS.
[via ics]

Here's the trick: twist the top until it's really tight and have a friend saw the top off with a key.  Works like an effing charm.

You're welcome.