When we left, it was pouring rain, our feet were tired, and I was madly in love with a miniature tiger.

There is a confession that needs to be made. I have been hiding too long- refusing to post, because I was terrified to face my faults. But that time of cowering is now over. I am here. Posting. Go me. I need to learn not to make promises o public sites. I said I would do something and I didn't and now.. now I look like a fool (no, my pants are not on the ground, but thank you for wondering.) I have learned my lesson my dear readers- from now on, I promise never to make a promise to public audiences unless I intend to follow through and make magic happen with it. Here is a too a fresh start (imagine me lifting up my chai in a kind gesture in cheersing you.)

On Saturday, I went to the Miniature Tigers concert which was practically the best think since sliced bread. Gabrielle and I went out to dinner before hand at Zuppas (spelling may be wrong) where a young man, clearly not homeless, and clearly not starving because he did in face clearly just finnish eating with his fellow friends, asked if he could have my bread as he exited. It was so awkward. There I was sitting at the table, stuffing my mouth with salad/soup/sandwich when this man comes waltzing toward my table, picks up my piece of bread from the tray before me and asks ever so innocently if he may have this. I was so surprised I just murmured a "yeah. . . sure." but what I was really thinking was "What am I supposed to say? No? You are already freaking fondling MY bread? There is no way I will eat now that you have touched it! Who do you think you are? No one comes and takes my bread! No one! Except for you.. which is odd."

We then drove is circles, for thirty minutes, in the rain, desperately trying to find Kilby Court. Maps in hand we couldn't find it. But luckily, eventually, we noticed the little street next to the big red car.

The first warm up band (there would be three warm up bands by the end of the night) was hot. Not only in music but it appearance. Desert Noises captured my little teen heart right up and I am not madly in love with the lead singer's voice and the lead (and only) guitarist's body and face. Priceless combination. There music was fun and sweet and full of emotion that I can not really relate to but they sung it all so well that It made me think that I could relate and I did have a lost girlfriend who dumped me for my best friend making it so I got high. It was moving.

The second band sucked. Pepper Rabbits was supposed to be the "hot shots" but I honestly couldn't wait for them to stop there awful music that sounded like a screw driver in a broken blender with bananas. They could not blend there sounds and the lead singer dude played too many instruments poorly at one time and was obsessed with the record and feed back thingy that can often be used to make sweet beats. It was dreadful and everyone agreed. When they announced "this is our final song" the almost to tears audience cheered and clapped wildly.

The third band was good. But at this point it just seemed like they were picking people out of the audience to perform. I really just wanted to see Miniature Tigers. Nothing else. This band didn't introduce themselves, but we would soon learn that they were indeed two of the four members of the suspected band I paid to see. They sang songs about being "high as a fucking kite" and "Donkey Kong's Castle." It was great fun, but I just wanted the mini tigers.

Miniature tigers came soon after the "high as a fucking kite" song and I was thrilled. The lead singer, in a large red and fish poncho, danced with Gabrielle in the audience, played every song we could ever want and earned the title of AMAZING. There is nothing like jumping up and down acting like fools singing at the top of your lungs all the chorus's of your favorite songs from a hipster band at such great venue like Kilby court.

When we left, it was pouring rain, our feet were tired, and I was madly in love with a miniature tiger.