i got Clay Walker's sweat on me.

I promised you and myself that Friday night would be epic, and alas, children, epic it was. We loaded up in the boyfran's car and headed over to the big country bar where he was playing, at an appropriately early time. Like really, the time when the old scary people who take line dance lessons all week and show up at 8pm to Boot Scoot Boogie are there. But before we got there, we all found ourselves desperate for un baño, so we stopped at CVS.

Let me give you a little background about this particular CVS. It is in the absolute worst part of town one could ever hope to find oneself in at 9pm on a Friday night. Or really, at any time, any day or night. I was really surprised when Skippy the pharmacy drone let us into the locked hallway where the bathrooms are in the first place.

Lawyer School is over by this particular CVS and thus I have found myself stopping at various places in those parts for coffee/gas/a honey bun and having to pee (because that's about every 3.4 seconds) and getting really annoyed when the clerk is all "We don't HAVE a bathroom." But I guess if people were doing the crack in my bathroom, I'd go all private on it too. But, perhaps since there were four of us, perhaps since PB is a rather imposing person and Skippy looked like a Weeble, or perhaps because I had on a whore island skirt, we were allowed access into the inner sanctum that is the CVS bathroom.

And in that inner sanctum, was the following (2 page!) note on both the wall over the toilet and the inside of the door by the paper towel dispenser. I particularly like the guilt trip at the end about the poor overworked CVS employees.

Then we were on the way out and someone was standing in front of the cash register, talking to her friend, the clerk. The conversation went something "Man he got SHOT over here, his belly was all laid open like SHPLOEKWOWWW [insert gesture of making a 6 inch hole in her abdomen.}" And so, we left the CVS on that note.

We got to the bar, and I was quite pleased to see the fabulous Mr. Walker's bus and band trailer right there in the parking lot, ready for photo opportunities. See? I'm real excited (and also sweaty, partially because I am throwing myself at a sketch of Clay Walker, partially because it is 900 degrees and humid out.)

When we got inside, we ran to the beer cart and then were immediately excited to see that there was pretty much no one in front of the stage and that we could totally be at least second row if we wanted. So J and I practically hog tied PB and her fiance and camped out there with our beers. Except for how we got tsk-tsked by one of the 4 million bouncers who clearly think they have a really important Public Safety Career, because apparently one can't have alcohol on the dance floor? So, tails between our legs, we stood awkwardly near the dance floor while we had one more beer, and then J and I could take it no longer, because those old ladies were not going to get between us and Clay.

We ended up very sober and on about the third "row," though it was just a clump of randomsters standing about. I nearly had to take a few bitches out, however, because a) I NEEDED TO BE NEAR CLAY and b) we all stood there for a whole hour, beer-free, before he even took the stage and I was not letting some little hussy by me who had been back by the bar enjoying the adult beverage of her choice the whole time. There was definitely some awkward shoulder-wrestling as I tried to play defensive line and keep those hofaces back where they belonged (though a few slipped through the cracks, I was largely successful in this effort.)

And see how close we were?! AMAZING TIMES. If sober times. But I mean it's kind of like pre-gaming for church, it just felt wrong to be drunk in front of Clay anyway. Also I think while he was flinging his towel into the crowd, some of his sweat got on me. Of course, so did a lot of OTHER people's sweat, which was super gross times. Not as bad as the scary, 300-lb. meth-mouth man with patchy facial hair, huge man-boobies, and his shirt alllll the way unbuttoned who rubbed all over J the whole time. Oh, and who also lit up a cigarette while people were literally pressed against each other!

Don't you wish you could have high-class nights like me?