lierdumoa | HOLY SHIT YOU GUYZ

So OMG. I had an adventure -- an ADVENTURE -- tonight.

I got me and my girlfriend tickets to a Dresden Dolls (& Pomplamoose) concert tonight. Which, omg yay, I actually got to make out with someone when the clock struck twelve on Jan 1 this time around! Only, I almost didn't make it in. See, I've never gone to a concert on a national holiday before. Ergo I failed to realize that even the 24 hour Kinko's is closed at 7pm on New Year's Eve and had nowhere to print tickets.

Luckily one of my girlfriend's friends (let's call him Tom), who we randomly ran in to outside the concert hall, made the suggestion that we go to youth hostel and beg to use their printer. This concert was in a shady enough part of town that there were in fact three youth hostels within walking distance and we got the 2nd one to let us use their printer. Tom pretended to be a hapless tourist to get us in the door. I got through printing the first of two tickets when the printer ran out of toner. Luckily there was a backup printer, which was also running out of toner, but after fiddling with some settings I managed to eke out a decent print of ticket #2.

But where was I? Oh yes. The concert.

The set list finished quicker than expected so our performers threw in a few bonus songs. Much drinking and dancing and making out took place. The lead singer went up into the balcony seats to sing a song and sexually harass a few audience members (all in good fun, of course). All in all, it was a fabulous concert experience.

BUT WAIT. THERE'S MORE.

So as you may or may not know, the lead singer of the Dresden Dolls is Amanda Palmer, and Amanda Palmer is married to Neil Gaiman.

Picture this. It's the end of the night. The encore is over, the lights have come back on, it's time to go home. Neil Gaiman and some guest performers from the concert are just, like, chillin' in this reserved area by the door as we're heading out. He walks out of the reserved area right onto the path where I'm about to exit. I of course jump on the opportunity and turn to him saying, "Mr. Gaiman! I'm a huge fan! Is it all right if I take a picture with you?"

So I'm standing there with Neil Gaiman's arm around me and my arm around him expecting my girlfriend to take a picture. Only apparently she didn't realize I meant *her* camera. So I'm standing there like a retard with my arm around Neil Gaiman waiting quite a bit longer-than-is-socially-acceptable for her to pull out her phone, turn on the camera and hand it over to Tom so he can take the picture.

Tom, after some confusion, takes a picture so blurry and distorted I'm half expecting to recieve a phonecall when I get home telling me I'm going to die in seven days. And then Neil Gaiman, ever the gentleman, bids me goodbye, kisses me on the cheek and walks off.

NEIL GAIMAN FUCKING KISSED ME ON THE CHEEK YOU GUYS.

AND SAID THINGS IN A BRITISH ACCENT THAT I CAN'T REALLY REMEMBER BECAUSE HIS LIPS WERE ON MY FACE.

So.

How was your New Year's Eve?