Friday was spent driving, shopping, and concerting. I bought an adorable t-shirt at Mayfair with Stewie from Family Guy on it. He says, "You will bow to me." I also bought a pair of Happy Bunny socks. So sue me. We had time to kill before leaving for the show, so we saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and I was terribly pleased witht he whole thing. I didn't get a cell phone cover because what was available at the kiosk was pretty lame, but t-shirts, socks, and a kickass movie more than make up for it.

We arrived at The Eagle's Club/Rave at 6:30ish and traipsed on in only to be herded into a holding area until 7. We arrived an hour and a half early with every intention of getting a good close-to-the-stage spot and such intentions were certainly fulfilled until the openers took their leave. The Eagle's Club is an old ballroom, so the layout is essentially: huge empty floor, stage, domed ceiling so that all sound falls pretty dead, and a second floor balcony. In the beginning, we were six people back from center stage. I'd say 10ish feet. It was really an excellent spot, but only in optimum conditions, which these turned out not to be. As soon as the opener's exited, there began a trickle of idiots going for the front of the stage.

It only became worse as The Darkness came on. The second they hit the stage, there was a massive crush for the front and where we were standing became a mosh pit filled with retarded, angry teenage boys and their whingey girlfriends. The meathead quotient was high and there were times when we were pretty much horizontal but not on the floor. I'd have been fine (if pretty claustophobic; which was less claustrophobia than "ew, fat sweaty man tit of a stranger on me") had the crowd not shifted sideways. To begin, Luke was directly in front of me and I was hanging onto him, both for comfort and stability and Andy was directly behind me. I have never been, nor do I think I will ever be, as close to him as I was at that time. But, once the crowd shifted, Andy was no longer there, but somewhere off to the side, so I had strangers against all sides but the front and things were getting a little dicey for me because I hadn't eaten all day, nor had I had sufficient liquid nourishment. So, hungry and dehydrated I was, paired with a massive, sweaty crush of strangers. Luke decided it might be best for us to break out. This was not, however, before stepping on the back of the knee of the guy in front of him and elbowing him hard in the kidney for having previously infringed on my personal space for far longer than was appropriate. (The victim was the aforementioned fat, sweaty man tit.)

And so, Tria did the first real punching of her life. I kicked and punched my way the fuck out of there without caring who was getting what part of me, stepping on feet, paying attention only to the increasing amount of personal space I had with each step I took. We fought our way back to the middle of the crowd with Andy in tow and I rested my head on Luke's back hyperventilating, feeling a little pukey, and needing to pee like there were no tomorrow. Feeling as I did leads me to believe that I had my first ever panic attack, minor though it was. Luke reports that I really wasn't looking so good and that he was actually pretty concerned about me. But, he took excellent care. I used the ladies' and we hoofed it up to the balcony where there was plenty of room, less sweating, a better view, and a place to sit.

All in all, it was an excellent show and I will most certainly see those boys again. Justin changed clothes thrice, crowd-surfed while playing guitar, and put on a lacy black bra that had been thrown up onstage. I'm fairly certain they played the entire album plus a few songs that were either covers or new material. It was the first date of the tour and I loved it in spite of all the meatheads and the panic.

We returned from Milwaukee and I wasn't feeling so hot. My head hurt, I thought I was going to urp, and the llama had resumed residence in my head. So, I took some Robitussin at Andy's, breathed lots of fresh air, and waited for the headache to subside, knowing that our night wasn't done yet, for we had a party to attend. I did a top half sponge bath because I was feeling less than fresh and changed into my Stewie shirt while Luke put on my spankin' new Darkness t and we were off. We didn't stay long, maybe an hour or two, and got home to shower by 3.

Saturday we stocked up on concert supplies: earplugs, Powerade, granola bars, and t-shirt cash, knowing that we didn't want a repeat of the previous night with regard to the hunger and thirst. We grabbed Kirsten and tried to find a fourth to go with us because her roommate bailed at the very last second. We failed. But, we were again on our way, this time in a much less crowded car with me feeling much better as far as illness was concerned.

The Vines and Jet were in the Rave, which is in the same building as Eagle's but is much smaller and more acoustically suited. We were on the floor for the opener, The Living End, and they weren't great but they also weren't terrible. Had it not been for the Junior League of mom-bought-us-beer teenagers dancing frantically behind us, it would have been much better. For Jet, we moved up to the balcony, but our spot was pretty lame. I never got a single glimpse of the rhythm guitarist because my view was blocked by idiots and a pole. They were really quite good, though they kind of overused the strobe. The Vines were even better, I thought, but that may have been because we secured a spot that allowed us fill view of the stage. Sadly, there was a trio of obnoxious, tarty bitches behind us the whole time and they were all either doing the drunken don't spill the beer dance or yelling to each other over the music. Luke and I just kept thinking, "Can't you be obnoxious bitches at home?"

The show ended with "Get Free" and the lead singer knocked over part of the drum kit with his guitar. I was expecting more of his famed surliness and was a little disappointed when that was all he did apart from throwing down his guitar and tripping over the mic cord a little earlier in the night.

The drive back to Madison with Kirsten was uneventful, as were all but the last 10 miles of our drive home when all hell broke loose.

See, we haven't had sex since last Tuesday and I was getting cranky about it. Luke said that he wanted to go to bed when we got home. I said there would be no going to bed until something had been gotten out of the way and he responded with a moan and a complaint. The complaint wasn't what did it, it was the moan. Could he not have thought about what he was doing first? Did he have to do such damage to my self-esteem in one breath? So, yeah, he fucked up kind of hugely and I was left quite wounded by the whiole thing. I explained to him what he had done, however inadvertently, but I'm not sure if he understands. I know he was tired and didn't meant to say what he did, but I'm still hurt by it. I fear that he doesn't desire me any longer and such an utterance sort of confirmed it. I think I know that it's not true, but he doesn't often express it and I'm left to wonder what it is that I have or have not done to make him lose interest. I'm also left to wonder if he's getting it elsewhere, something that I asked last night and now know is not true, either.

Things are all right now, I guess. I'm burned out from too much sickness, too much work, and too activity in too little time, but I plan on sleeping a lot tonight and just relaxing, so I think such issues should be rememdied shortly.