Back in January, Joe and I had this conversation:
Joe: Did you know Vampire Weekend is coming to Ohio?
Me: NO, WHEN IS IT?!?
Joe: Oh, well, it's sold out.
Fast-forward to a few weeks ago:
Joe: Can I tell you what I got you for your birthday?
Me: No, I want to be surprised.
Me: I guess. If you really want to.
Joe: Remember how Vampire Weekend was sold out?
Joe: Well, I found tickets.
So last night, Joe and I went to see Vampire Weekend because the responsible thing to do four days before moving is to go to a concert. But whatever, it was awesome. It made me want to bop around or run around in circles like a tiny, yappy dog. In fact, there is a certain part of Mansard Roof that makes me want to twirl around in circles with my arms stretched out and when I told Joe, he told me I should do it but I didn't want to smack anyone in the head because that would ruin their concert experience, which really wouldn't be fair because they probably paid good money for the concert unless they were like me and had someone awesome buy them the tickets for their birthday.
This brings me to my confession and that confession is: The only reason I listen to any good music is because either Kat or Joe told me to listen to it. Truth!
What do you want to confess today, Internets? Come on. Get it off your chest.
Know what else? I had a bison burger for the first time last night. It was so delicious. I'm not sure if it was more delicious than most hamburgers I've had because of the restaurant or because it was bison, but I don't really care. It was a bit weird to be eating bison, though. I don't know why. I sort of felt like I was on the Oregon Trail and I'd shot some bison during a hunting expedition and was enjoying the fruits (meats?) of my labor. Although, usually when I played Oregon Trail, all I ever shot were squirrels and then I died of cholera. Not cool. Anyway. I think what I'm saying is, last night was way better than shooting squirrels and dying of cholera.