lizziek' date='Sep 22nd 2010, 12:56 PM
This is one of my favorite gifs..his tush is mezmerising
clawme' date='Sep 22nd 2010, 3:05 PM
The length of this thing is ridiculous. I can't help it. I just...can't. Read every 3 or 4 lines - you'll get the gist.
Part 1: Before
T minus 5 hours: I go from having 0 tickets to having 1 ticket in the 5th row on the center aisle. I had planned on sitting up in the grandstand and I ended up right smack dab smack ass smack in front of the stage. Total perimeter breach. I am numb.
T minus 4 hours 59 minutes: I lose my sh*t.
T minus 4 hours 30 minutes: The notion that Adam might be able to see me has me in its evil grips. I need a burka. I don’t have a burka. I dress entirely in black, layers of black. A black hat. Nothing that reflects light. I’m a pantyhose short of full-on cat burglar. Once darkness hits, I’ll fade away. Right?!
T minus 3 hours: Sitting in traffic, obsessed, completely completely obsessed with the fact that I will be seeing Adam up close. My friend, thankfully, carries the conversation. I am in lala land. Any response I make to anything she says is pure animal instinct.
T minus 2 hours 15 minutes: We are walking to our seats. We are getting closer and closer and closer. My legs begin to tingle we’re so close. I look down to get my bearings. Row 24. The brain machine whirrs. 5 is way less than 24. By row 19, I am certain that everything has been mislabeled and that we can’t possibly be any g.d. closer. Conspiracy!!! I get to my seat. The look on my face should have seriously alarmed people. It didn’t. That tells you all you need to know about sitting up in the Glambert zone.
T minus 2 hours: Allison comes out and when she stands at the edge of the stage, I practically have to crawl over the back of my seat to get out of her way. Repeat “T minus 4 hours 59 minutes.” Sorry person behind me. This is the real deal. I can see the sheen of sweat on her chest. When she cries and her eyelash glue gets in her eye, I can see that this is happening. I can see her trying to blink through gummy mascara. I am absolutely transfixed by the seeing of her. I watch David Immerman repeatedly flick guitar picks that don’t quite make it to the audience. Little barely visible picks. I see them. I look at the drummer and think she is crying a little but then I think that maybe that’s just her face. Either way I’m close enough to have a valid opinion on the matter.
T minus 1 hour 30 minutes: Needing a break from all of the serious seeing I am doing, I contemplate the couple in front of me. Late 60s husband and wife wearing the same military themed jacket. They do not interact or even move really. I watch the man yell at the young woman in front of him who is standing and taking pictures of Allison. I think he says, “THIS IS THE FAIR! SIT DOWN!” 4th row Adam Lambert center stage and this guy is pissed about standers. Oh honey. Honey, honey, honey. Cockblockin’ is fer foolz and this man is the biggest foo’ in town. I’m sure he really loved it when he left his seat towards the end of Adam’s show and returned to find that the crowd had rushed the stage, plugging up the aisle back to the 10th row or so.
T minus 30 minutes: I leave the venue to use the restroom. While in line, I hear the following exchange:
Two Glamberts talking to each other in line: Adamadamadamadamadamadamadamadam
Random lady leaving the bathroom: Adam LamBART? Oh, he’s a stinker. I don’t like him anymore.
Two Glamberts: Really? Then you must die!!!!! *cue flesh-tearing and eyeball-plucking*
Random: That Adam LamBART thinks he’s better than everyone else. Thinks he’s so special. [She then recounts her story of how she was waiting in line for a ride earlier in the day with her son, who is autistic. Adam Lambart and his crew came along and got to cut in to the front. This frustrated her because it is challenging for her son to stand in line.]
Two Glamberts: *crickets*
Random: So if that’s “celebrity,” then Adam LamBART can have it.
Noted.
T minus 5 minutes: FYE begins. I assume the fetal position. “He’s a regular real person,” I say to myself. It’s a mantra. Regular, real person. Deep breath. Regular, real person. Deep breath.
Upcoming....Part 2: During and Part 3: After
clawme' date='Sep 22nd 2010, 3:55 PM
Part 2: During
T minus zeeerho: Repeat T minus 4 hours 59 minutes. I see him. Like, SEEEEEEEEEE. NO HE’S NOT! He is not real. This is not, I am not. I need air. I need to get to the outside for air, except I am already outside but how would I know because my entire world is now very small. It is whatever I can see through my fingers. All else is black nothingness.
My first full moment of awareness brings me to this realization: I am fully exposed. Here’s the sitch - the 2 people on the aisle in the first row = a couple who stood right up against the stage. The 2 people behind them stayed seated. The 2 people behind them stayed seated. The 2 people behind them stayed seated. Are you following me? Do you get where I’m going with this? I’m standing. STANDING. It’s a sea of sitdownedness before me and then the stage people and then him. And I’m kind of in the aisle because Laurel and Hardy in front of me are pushed back a bit, so if I stand in front of my seat, in my layers of black clothing, I loom over The Yeller like some kind of creepy Angel of Death or something, and neither of us needs that.
WILDROSE – you mentioned the pants. Lady, you have got an eye! I didn’t make it up to Adam’s face until well into, like, Fever. Whoever made those pants, made them with Adam in them. I’ve never seen such a perfectly fitting piece of clothing in my entire life. They looked a little latex-y. Whatever they were, his thighs caressed them from the inside like it was their job and they were working overtime for twice their normal pay.
T plus finger suck: I had already paid my friend for the price of the ticket. I now open my wallet and hand over all of the remaining money in it to her. I want to kiss her feet, but it is physically impossible. I blow kisses towards the ground.
T plus 10 minutes: I really look at his face. I revisit T minus 4 hours 59 minutes. He is the smilingest smiler that ever did smile. Every other expression is followed by a smile, or some other equal glint of pleasure. Between smiles, he pouts, winks, flutters, smirks, laughs – he is never not giving good face. He constantly looks mischievous. Everything is for fun.
When he sings, I see his breath. On certain syllables, I see spit. When he swings his head, a mist of glitter and precious body fluids swirls around him. The Hair is such amazing art that it literally (no, literally) leaves me reeling. How? Bumpit? It’s not logical. I air lick it. It licks me back. Mother effer, that hair is so sick and nasty. I give my friend my jewelry.
T plus 30 minutes: Out of nowhere a drumstick lands at my feet. I pick it up and stick it down the side of my pants without once taking my eyes or mind off Adam. I am that intense. Thanks Isaac! Thanks for not throwing that pointy object just a little bit harder!
T plus 45 minutes: The inevitable happens. I see him see me. It’s the end of Music Again. He has just done about a 100 adorable little things in a row, and I am worked up into an absolute lather. So in love. So in awe of the performer he is. Sometimes he is hitting every single beat of the music with some part of his body - constant movement and play. He works the crowd with his entire face, all of his being. I am goopy and awkward. I am in the aisle and loud, fist-pump at the ready.
What I think Adam probably saw as he ended the song: Me screaming at him, “YOU! YOU! NO YOU!” while, like, throwing my arms towards him foam finger/#1 style. Merp.
T plus 20th Century Boy: This is my first time hearing this song live. I don’t remember a single thing about it. As I mentioned previously, the unwashed masses from BehindMe Land crowd the aisles. A tall man blocks my view with his picture taking. I gnaw off his camera arm and wave his bloody shredded stump around over my head. I tap him on the shoulder and shriek things. He’s creeped out enough to move on.
This is all distracting and too close and I just need space to DEAL and really at this point I’m so in the zone that it doesn’t really matter. You wanna give it to me again, big boy? Well, I’m certainly not going to say no, but you’ll have to excuse me if I just lay here completely spent while you do. So he ground one out AGAIN, and then it's over.
I stand there wondering what exactly just happened. I have a drumstick in my pants. This seems normal. I go home.
clawme' date='Sep 22nd 2010, 6:13 PM
Part 3: After
Random observations and thoughts:
~Somebody needs to institute the Audience Fashion Show. Men and women of all ages were did up – some really fabulous stuff. That said, everyone I saw that was dressed up looked uncomfortable. I’m sorry but if you’re going to show up at the Puyallup fair dressed like a club kid, then you’d better be prepared to own it. You will be in the minority.
On the other hand, I’d be curious to know how many people there were dressed in all black. I felt like I had found my lost tribe.
~Tommy had the cutest little black cowboy boots about which Adam, who is without a doubt, a smack-talking troublemaking smart-ass, flipped him crap. “I like your boots, Tommy. I like your boots. Circa 1987. Do you like his boots? Yeah, Guns ‘n Roses.” I have a feeling that that discussion was to be continued later on…in bed. (Get it, Druncass?)
~At one point during SFW Adam was standing on the part of the stage where the fans could reach him. He’s planted in front of this group of women, who from what I could see, were not groping him, and there’s this moment where they look at him and he looks at them and shrugs as if to say, “Show me what you got.” I’m not actually joking about that. The look on his face in response to their hesitation about what to do with him right there and not moving seemed to say, “Bitches, I’d wanna touch me too. How brave r u?” Well played, Adam LamBART. Well-played.
~ The drummer is way smaller than Tommy. I’m surprised he got the drumstick as far as he did. I love ya, Cam, but the idea of Adam surrounded by a band of twee and/or miniature men needs to be a reality, like, yesterday.
~Allison was so broken up, poor thing. She was standing there knee-deep in admiration for and appreciation of Adam, doing everything she could to collect herself while thanking the audience for supporting him. It was a really genuine and sweet moment.
~Adam’s connection with the people on stage with him seems really intense (except for Cam). I’m thinking that you can’t work that closely with Adam and not have an intense connection with him. He’s a big personality and seems to bring out the best in others. A benevolent dictator, if ever there was one. He and Terence were having some kind of macho chest-thumping eye-f*cking contest, I think. Every time they were face-to-face, and I looked at them, I felt dirty.
I’m a dirty dirty girl. :devil:
So, yeah, probably a good place to stop. I think I’ve sucked what I can from the experience. Now onward and upward...and downward and upward and downward and upward and faster and faster. Heh. This is what I do with a day off. Anyway, I’m not going anywhere. Are you going anywhere? This isn’t the end – it’s just a commercial break. Everyone go pee and get snacks. Hurry! The show will be back on before we know it.
Thanks to you all for such a terrific summer of love and delicious mayhem. It has been so fun to travel around the U.S. with you. Best.road.trip.partners.ever. <3 Watch out world! Here we come!
WILDROSE: So glad we have “met.” :yes: