Brought to you by the Iron Horse

I'm a little slammed today (and all week, actually) so I considered asking Laurey to guest post about the Bret Michaels concert. But then I knew it would read something like this:

WESAWBRETMICHAELSINHOOVERSATURDAYNIGHTANDITWASSOAWESOME!
SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!BRETMICHAELS!!!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!

So instead I stuck to Laurey's strengths and borrowed her mad photography skillz to bring you a picture post. My ears are still stopped up and ringing, and Bret ditched the meet-and-greet my friends paid for, but it was an excellent girls' night out anyway: We had fun, no one got in a fight (even though I almost had to take a fleece-robed girl out to the parking lot and show her what was up), and Amy and I got another picture for our Signature Dance Move photo album. (Contrary to what my oversize 80s shirt appears, I am not following Jessica Simpson's lead and trying to cover a baby bump. Thank you.) Please enlarge picture number two, and take note of our glittery eye makeup. I think my arsenal of sparkly face products startled Laurey a bit.







I got home around 3 a.m., and suddenly it was like 1999 on Lexington Road in Athens: I had to leave all my stinky clothes on the living room floor and Febreze my hair before I got in the bed. Seriously, who still allows indoor smoking?!

If you are Facebook friends with any of us, or if you follow one of us on Twitter, you were no doubt up-to-the-minute on our Saturday evening exploits. Erin and I were on top of the social media.