this is a love song in my own way

After the retail-tension-headache debacle, I had almost forgotten I was going to see Fall Out Boy in Brisbane last night. Not entirely forgotten, because part of my brain was still all flaily and excited, the part that wasn't drugged into oblivion and had slept for seventeen hours straight. But then I woke up today with less of a headache and the revelation:

I WAS GOING TO SEE FALL OUT BOY!!!

And then I DID!

I'm pretty sure I'm going to have barricade bruising under my ribs, and all the loud awesome music didn't help my pounding headache (though I'm sure it pounded in time) even though I was earplugged and stuff, and I know my head will probably be paying for it in the days to come, but you guys

Patrick Stump was two metres to my left and about the same distance away from me! *dies*

He was vocally on fire and completely rocking out and Pete was a gorgeously smiling douche who may or may not have tried to indoctrinate the crowd into his cult of crazy, and JoeTroh come make babies with me, srsly. I don't normally go all stupid like this, because I'm more about the music than the absolute adorable win of the boys making it, but they blew my mind. It's the second time I've seen them this year, which is pretty awesome, that they came to Australia again, because I thought it wouldn't happen after they came out in April and rocked my socks off, but oh. my. g-d.

They played at the Riverstage, which is not exactly my favourite venue - hello, outside in
spring at night, the whole pit stank of sweat and mozzie repellent (because we were getting eaten alive) and we had to trudge through the Botannical Gardens to get there, because Gardens Point Road was a carpark at about four in the afternoon. But despite my bitching, all was wonderful once Gyroscope came onstage and started the night.

*flails* Patrick sang 'Don't Matter!' When they did 'One and Only' Jules and I did our spastic flaily dance! We all rocked out to Saturday and it was awesome! We left as soon as it was over, pretty much, because some stupidheads actually have to work today, (suckers!) and I'm content with the knowledge that Patrick Stump just sang to me for an hour, I don't have to actually meet him - yes, just to me, not the rest of the venue, my tinfoil hat is firmly stapled! (And I totally wrote peterick porn in my head every time they got within three feet of each other, and I doubt I'd be able to look any of them in the eye if we stayed around to do the 'sign my shirt' thing.)

Also, ashairam just posted a really sweet JWalk/Tomrad little ficlet over here and I think I'm kinda in love with it. Because it reads like the coda to their great big angsty novel that was never written, but this is the happy ending they deserve, and when I read it aloud to my hastily-assembled post-concert audience, it made Nat Jules go 'aww,' and she's a notoriously stern biatch really great friend, Jules. Thnx for letting me use your computer! (Just go read it, k?)

I snaked Jules' computer as soon as we got back to hers, to post this, and the assembled peanut gallery are currently sitting behind me, eating nachos and telling me to 'stop flailing at the whole damn internet, we have to drive home,' bitching about who has to brave the demon-road of potholey-blackspot-highway-hell back to the coast. I totally volunteer, but only because the driver picks the music and those in the cheap seats will just have to deal if I chose to blast the entire FOB back-catalogue on the way home and relive my concert experience. The Eff-Oh-Bee shall protect me from the devil's highway - that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

And with that, I shall gather my motley crew of FOB enthusiasts and head for the open road. :P