Piercing man, piercing

Last night, Tricia and I took our daughters for Avril Lavigne. I felt quite old and a little embarrassed that I made more noise than my daughter when Avril was on stage. Although she was the one that knew the words to every single song while I just whooped loudly, and yeahed a lot. Yes, great decision to bring her and money well-spent.

There was a small incident when Megan’s flourescent yellow lightstick broke in her hand while she was waving it about and she sprayed both Trish and Gail. Read Trish’s account:

I felt something spatter against my arm. I turned and discovered that not just my arm, but Gail’s hair, our seats, and Megan’s jacket, were emitting a surreal phosphorescent glow. I looked around indignantly, wondering which idiot had emptied his light stick on us. The two teenage girls behind me were scared enough by my accusing stare to meekly offer me tissues. But then Megan realised it was her light stick that had leaked. Her hands were like Lady Macbeth’s, but in garish fluorescent yellow. Adele broke out the tissue paper, but I upped her by producing wet wipes. Win.

Read Tricia’s account here.

It was funny to see car upon car full of angmoh tween girls and their one adult lady chaperone/driver. And the screaming was piercing man, piercing.

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