The first question of the night: Why don't guys go to the JT concert to pick up on loose women? We sure saw plenty of them. Here's a photo I snapped at a crosswalk. Count how many men you see. (The two boys on a date don't count.) Then count the women. Odds are in your favor men.
On our way into the Garden, we passed the convoy of Tour vehicles. We took a moment to swap photo-taking services with other fellow JT-appreciaters.
Mel and I were some of the only women in attendance who didn't create a true Girls-Night-Out. Yie.
I of course did an open mouth smile. Mel joined. We spiced it up a little by adding a foot kick. After the gal taking our photo snapped the first she seemed a little perturbed by the open mouth and quickly said, "Let's take another." Lo and behold, we took the same exact photo. Some people can't appreciate open mouth.
Like or loathe Justin's music, you'd have to be a fool to admit that he isn't born to perform. He sang, he danced, he played piano, guitar, and one of those piano/guitars I've only ever seen Jem's Rocker use. JT was never out of breath or seemed tired. It was a whirlwind of a 2-hour show. The dancing was by far my favorite--he broke it down over and over and over. The video below isn't mine (we were no where near that close to the stage), but I think you'll appreciate this view better.
After the concert, we ate at the Cheesecake, went home and watched the last six week's worth of SYTYCD to catch Mel up for the finale. Slept in, bought a bunch of white trash snacks at the Sev, beached on Saturday, proved our ties to Utah by listening to country music very loudly with open windows, ate at Joe's (with another run in with my Boyfriend waiter), and just like that, she was gone. 30 very fun, very eventful hours.
The only thing I would have changed about the weekend was wearing sunscreen. That's how you know you did it right.