Tuesday May 19, 2015, Halestorm and The Pretty Reckless played The Whiting in Flint (there was an opening-opening act which I missed, you know, because fashionably late. Curse me when they are the headliner I am waiting for two years from now). These two female-led rock bands killed the 2015 Carnival of Madness tour in typical rock style. There were booming drums, head-banging guitar riffs, lots of eyeliner and a few shots of jäger. If it is any testament to the show, my ears are still ringing after the hour-plus drive home. And in true rock ‘n’ roll style, I have a “fuck yes” and a “fuck you” list.

Fuck yes to the venue for actually having its own parking lot. Fuck yes to my BFF for coming, even though she didn’t know a single song. Fuck yes to Little Caesars for having a pre-concert dinner in my price range. Fuck yes to my BFF for finally urinating somewhere other than a toilet (in the aforementioned parking lot, to be specific). Fuck yes for the venue for not checking our bags. I needed that in-between set drink and ho ho to get me through. Fuck yes to Connie, the woman next to me, for showing up by herself and having a damn good time. Fuck yes to The Pretty Reckless. They didn’t play my favorite song, but I rocked out and head-banged to their entire set as if it was my favorite (shoutout to my BFF for having a hair tie to keep my hair out of my mouth as I head-banged). Fuck yes to this show for giving me a reason to unironically use the “rock on” hand sign I usually reserve for snapchats. Fuck yes to the parents who brought out their young children to experience some amazing music, even if it was simply because they couldn’t find a sitter. Fuck yes to Halestorm for bringing their A-game to Flint, Michigan (their home away from home, as they said multiple times). Fuck yes to them making me love a couple songs I didn’t even like (see my original thoughts of “The Reckoning” and “Dear Daughter” here).They were amazing live. Fuck yes to security for letting me sneak my way up to the front row during the encore and get as close as possible to the band. And a final fuck yes to my BFF who smiled at me as I left her in our seats to jam up close.

And for the fuck yous: Fuck you to my cheap nail polish for chipping an hour after I did it. Fuck you to the man on the other side of us who gave dirty looks for the two (TWO) times I bumped into him over the three-hour period (it’s a rock show, calm down). Fuck you to the cheap Forever 21 bracelet for flying off my hand and into the crowd … good riddance, I guess. Fuck you to the man in front of me for inappropriately touching his companion for the better (worse?) part of the show; save it for after, pal. Fuck you, Lzzy Hale, for handing the guitar pick to the hand next to mine during the encore (jk, I love you a lot).

Clearly none of my “fuck yous” were the fault of the band. Well, besides the guitar pick, but I won’t hold it against them. And as one final thank you: Thank you Halestorm for bringing “Mayhem” into what would’ve been a boring Tuesday night, and taking my rock show virginity. It is something I will never regret nor forget.

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