We went to a concert; I screamed and sang so loud that I hurt my throat. A security guard approached me: “Do you have a pass for that camera?” I stammered, exaggerating my nervousness because I think they appreciate submission: “N-no, did I need one? I didn’t know…” Oddly, he replied: “I don’t know, actually. Stay right here. Don’t move.”
He came back: “They’re cool with it.” I thought that was very decent; it was probably a little hard on him.
My favorite of my best friends’ brothers - incidentally my brother claims that one can only have one BEST friend - posted this. I asked him “What concert” it was, to which he replied: “.
Meh. I feel like a bit of a nitwit that I don’t even know who ‘my favorite artist’ is. I have too many.
Reblogged from mills
