I was caught between disgust and hilarity this morning after reading this story in The Star.
Kelly Hildebrandt, Florida resident, is marrying Kelly Hildebrandt of Texas. They met after Kelly-girl searched her own name on Facebook, finding a picture of Kelly-boy in cargo pants, a hat, sans shirt.
It only took one fateful Facebook message, eloquently worded, to seal the deal: “I thought it was kind of cool we had the same name, and I just wanted to say hi.”
Eighteen months later, the couple would be happily married, with designated names “Kelly girl” and “Kelly boy” to tell them apart. The wedding is set for October 2009.
Some highlights included:
- The band-wide towel-down in the middle of the show — after which Zach sang the next song (was it Elephant Gun?), ukelele in hand and towel draped over his head. Nun-style.
- A heightened appreciation of The Gulag Orkestar and and The Akara. Live. Whoa.
- So much love. I was in the third row, but a pretty big guy was in front of me. My Zach Condon view was not optimal. A couple of songs in, he realized I couldn’t see, so he stepped back, and let me stand in front of him. Second Row. Yes.
- More love. Beirut shows have the power to solve racial conflict. A bunch of drunk latino girls got into a fight with a black guy because he was imitating their (admittedly annoying) screeching while the Dodos opened up the show. But in the end they all made up. (Yay Dodos!)
- Even more love. AND SO MUCH ELBOW ROOM. Second row, and no one pressed up against you in a quasi-frottage manoeuvre? Priceless.
(I didn’t bring my camera so this photo from the National Post concert review will have to suffice — they were the first ones to post. I was way closer.)
Lesson # 1 : Knowing when he’s just not that into you