In keeping with my tendency to not do anything that's nearly responsible enough, I set off on a wild hair yesterday evening to hit up a sold out Of Montreal show in Asheville. After having such extreme luck in Austin, I figured I'd ride that residual wave and wiggle my way into the venue come hell or high water. But, just in case, I made a sign proclaiming "1 PLZ"

Leslie, Ian, and Forrest had their tickets for months (which, according to the booking agent, I should have, too). We piled into Leslie's car and enjoyed the most gorgeous day I've seen in Tennessee yet this year. Asheville was confusing as usual, but we finally met up with Kimberly and her boyfriend.

I hadn't seen Kim since Justin Brewer's funeral two years ago. We were best friends in high school, so it's always incredibly surreal to see how we've grown up while being apart. She directed us to dinner, and after eight years of waiting, we finally had our first legal beer in public together. We used to have plenty of beers in public before now, but it was just so lovely to sit across from a face that hasn't changed since the day I met it and imbibe some Tsing Tao.

After much circling about Asheville, we found The Grey Eagle. I duly received much incredulity from people in Knoxville and outside the venue concerning my ability to procure a ticket on my own volition. I put on my "sad duck face" and waited. And asked. And hob-knobbed and asked and waited. The only extra ticket that came through the door was snatched away from me by a girl who beat me a paper/rock/scissors!

But keeping in my newly-adopted placid demeanor whereas I get upset over nothing because everything always works out correctly in the end, I smiled and let her pay her double-face value for the ticket so wrongfully robbed from me (I wanted to throw rock, but instead went with paper, goddammit).

Eventually the booking agent, whom I immediately likened to Lauren Chustz, said that I didn't need to worry--he would make sure I got in the show since there were only a handful of people loitering outside without tickets. I deemed him benevolent, but I was not finished with my adorable yet still totally illegal scalping.

"Don't worry, dude," Leslie offered. "There's going to be some guy who wanders through here who bought two tickets just in case there is a girl at the show who can't get in."

"Yeah, right, dude. Go on inside! I'll make it on my own," I replied.

Only moments later, a arm on my shoulder, a whisper in my ear, and zing-bam: I'm inside the show without paying a single, solitary penny. A nice guy from Chattanooga named Luke bought two tickets for will-call and, surprise surprise!, couldn't find a showmate. He wouldn't accept money, and he doesn't drink, so I was stuck with buying him an RC Cola.

I regarded Kim and Nik and wiggled my way up to my crew. A 35 year old short and sassy lady by herself was in front of me for a while; when I made it to the otherside of her on my grand quest to the front of the stage, she kept grabbing my ass! Oh, Asheville, you and your dykes!

I was towed to the front by hanging onto the arm of a guy who was also waiting to get into the show. Through his grace and speed, I made it to the third row and was the first tall person in my section of the crowd. So many cute, adorable girls were in the front with me! There were two particularly adorable ones who made nice with me while we were cracking skulls to get closer to the stage where Kevin Barnes repeatedly put his sexy, sassy hands all over the bodies of his adoring lady-fans. He even shared some gum with a girl right up front!

At first I was worried because the crowd didn't seem too into it. I was glad to see that the show picked up and the energy did not dwindle. The band sounded great and looked almost as good. Kevin was wearing that amazing red cummerbund.


Remember when Kevin Barnes was naked? With that cummerbund? Wooooooooord.

Also, I took some pictures, but they aren't very good. Here they are, regardless.


Here is Kevin, lording over all of his adoring fans.


The keyboardist/drummer Jamey Huggins looks pretty much exactly like that fox Ryan Rickels so that was pretty sweet.


This is my favorite shot of the concert. It was taken during the encore. It was rapturous.

By the end of the show, I was groooooss and sweaty and kind of drunk. While I was squaring up my tab, Leslie got to play friendly with Mr. Barnes and was later bit on the neck by him. Hooray for my beautiful friends getting hit on by drunk, hypersexual, totally fucking amazing rockers!

I couldn't find Luke to thank him or Kim to hug her after the show, so homeward bound we journeyed. I'm even up in time to take a shower before going to plead with my German professor to let me pass her class if I promise to only miss one more class this semester. Can't say I won't miss any... because that would be a lie. And besides, after receiving a 94 on a Kid's Lit paper concerning Innocence/Experience/William Blake/blah blah blah, I feel quite validated with my approach to academics. It's not that I'm not learning--it's that I'm already learned. Obviously there are people out there leagues and fathoms smarter than me, but I'm finished with my formal education. I've maxxxed out.

Speaking of maxxxing out, I have seen the following bands in the past week:

Beirut, Mountain Goats (ick), Blonde Redhead, (heard from outside the venue) Girl Talk, BIG BLUE MARBLE (!!!), Peter Bjorn & John, Asobi Seksu, and Of Montreal.

Helloooooooooooooooooooooo: I win at life. Come party with me, y'all. Good things be happenin'! Miracle Year 2K7: our band could be your life.