This is a LONG one. But worth it. (If you want the cliffs notes version: I won a meet & greet with Kip Moore. It was cool. Then, he talked to me during the concert. And now I'm in love. The End.)
Now, if you want to, read on for the fun Jill-erized version of the story.
If you know me well ... It's no secret that I thoroughly love going to concerts. Typically, those concerts revolve around the various men of country music. I may see some of my favs multiple times . . . just like those who golf typically go to the same course; those who shop go to the same mall. It's also no secret that I've gotten EXTREMELY lucky over the past year and half and have had amazing seats (or standing area) and have gotten several meet & greets. NO -- I do not pay for those or exchange favors of any kind. NO - I do not know anyone in the music industry, and NO I do not pay a fortune to get the tickets I get.
This is LUCK. Pure luck. And, a bit of research.
Luke Bryan was my love . . . for a while. Then, Jake Owen swooped in with his hair that is prettier than mine and eyes that sparkly like diamonds when he smiles that smile . . . he was so unbelievably kind to Connor when he chatted with us on his birthday . . . how could you NOT love him?!?!? And there was Love and Theft . . . after three meet & greets with them, I can honestly say they seem like two of the nicest guys ever. Eric even gave me a pick! I mean . . . that's pretty much the coolest thing that can happen at a show. Right? WRONG!
Enter -- Kip Moore. I've seen him now 3 times (don't ask me why ... refer to the first paragraph). The first time I saw him he kinda amazed me. Crazy energy. Crazy hot.
Second time I saw him . . . he put on another amazing show. At one point he walked by me and made eye contact, then turned and leaned over toward me so he could sing to me. RIGHT.TO.ME. Like in this pic (below) .... this isn't from that night and he's not singing to me there, but that's what it was like.
Now, if you want to, read on for the fun Jill-erized version of the story.
If you know me well ... It's no secret that I thoroughly love going to concerts. Typically, those concerts revolve around the various men of country music. I may see some of my favs multiple times . . . just like those who golf typically go to the same course; those who shop go to the same mall. It's also no secret that I've gotten EXTREMELY lucky over the past year and half and have had amazing seats (or standing area) and have gotten several meet & greets. NO -- I do not pay for those or exchange favors of any kind. NO - I do not know anyone in the music industry, and NO I do not pay a fortune to get the tickets I get.
This is LUCK. Pure luck. And, a bit of research.
Luke Bryan was my love . . . for a while. Then, Jake Owen swooped in with his hair that is prettier than mine and eyes that sparkly like diamonds when he smiles that smile . . . he was so unbelievably kind to Connor when he chatted with us on his birthday . . . how could you NOT love him?!?!? And there was Love and Theft . . . after three meet & greets with them, I can honestly say they seem like two of the nicest guys ever. Eric even gave me a pick! I mean . . . that's pretty much the coolest thing that can happen at a show. Right? WRONG!
Enter -- Kip Moore. I've seen him now 3 times (don't ask me why ... refer to the first paragraph). The first time I saw him he kinda amazed me. Crazy energy. Crazy hot.
Second time I saw him . . . he put on another amazing show. At one point he walked by me and made eye contact, then turned and leaned over toward me so he could sing to me. RIGHT.TO.ME. Like in this pic (below) .... this isn't from that night and he's not singing to me there, but that's what it was like.
So, when I heard he was touring with Tim McGraw this summer, I snagged tickets as soon as I could. And then .... I set out on a mission -- get a Meet & Greet with Kip. So, I did my typical research, which usually results in joining a fan club to enter for a chance to win meet & greets. Kip does not do that. Of course not. He does not do much by the books.
So, I found out the only way to win them is radio (yeah, right) or twitter (sure, he has 440+ followers, but SURE, he'll see me!). What happens is Kip or his people will tweet and tell people what to do to win m&g. So, on Friday, I set up my phone for alerts and waited (not) patiently to hear the little ringading telling me he tweeted . .. it said something like "tweet #dirtroad for your chance at m&gs for tonight" I was on it . . . I was sending out a wish and a prayer for quick (and accurate) fingered. I fumbled (of course) but ultimately was able to tweet #dirtroad and then waited. And waited. And waited.
I have no idea how much time passed; it felt like FOREVER (say it Sandlot style). And then my phone did it's little dingaling and THIS is what I saw!
Yep . . . that is MY name! ME!
I won't even pretend like I kept it together . . . because I didn't. But I won't go in the giddy fangirl details.
It would be embarrassing.
Yep . . . that is MY name! ME!
I won't even pretend like I kept it together . . . because I didn't. But I won't go in the giddy fangirl details.
It would be embarrassing.
I'll fast forward the good stuff now (as opposed to the details of me trying to figure out what to wear ... keep cool in the heat, look good for Kip, be comfortable, etc.). Carey and I head over to FMBA . . .she's giggling at me because I am a hot mess (and by hot, I mean hot & sweaty; not like hot girl). I've met quite a few singers and I've never been this nervous before. Somewhere between freaking out about getting the M&G and getting ready for the met & greet -- it finally sunk in that I was going to actually MEET Kip Moore ... and I was completely intimidated and nervous. Oh, and yes, I had to take a selfie . . . even though Kip has repeatedly said he hates them. I had to get it out of the way in the car.
So,we wait in line so we can do the mad dash to the pit. I mean, that is a RACE. People run and scream and freak out. They open the gates, and I started getting patted down and they check my bag and see the Kip Moore flask I had brought with me to have him sign.
Line-ticket-taker-lady: "No flasks. No alcohol allowed ma'am"
Me: "Oh, its totally empty; never used it."
Line lady: "No flasks. No alcohol ma'am"
Me: "Seriously? So I have to take this back to my car?!?!"
Lady: "Yes"
Me: some strange frustrated/mad sound that was meant to show extreme dissatisfaction and exacerbation. It got me no where.
I get my sister's keys and walk as fast as I can back to the stupid car, then back to the gate. Yes, the idea of putting the flask somewhere on me or in my boot did cross my mind; thankfully I did NOT because they checked ALL of those spots before I was finally able to get into the venue (Not gonna lie, I felt slightly violated). Next task was finding Carey and friends in the pit; hoping they got an awesome spot. Have I mentioned how hot it was?!?! Me+brisk walking+hot = sweaty nasty gross. Oh my lanta ... I finally found Carey in the pit and WOWZA she has the PERFECT spot. I mean, PERFECT! Kip does most of the show from mainstage. She has saved me a spot right at the corner between the mainstage and catwalk. And I know from seeing him a few times that he leans over people to sing to them and interacts with the crowd A LOT, talking to people . . . especially during "Fly Again" -- and I'm in the PERFECT spot where I could possibly be one of those lucky people. WOW.
But . . . . Here's the problem .... remember how I said I was hot mess. I just practically ran to the car and then into the venue and down into the pit --- which is a perfect name for this area of a venue -- it's like you've been sucked into a black hole that has ZERO wind movement, LOTS of sticky, icky bodies and this stench that is a mixture of perfume, sweat, beer, and BO. Sounds awesome, right? I do love the pit ... but I love it much more in an air conditioned setting. As I'm standing in the pit, reveling in the fact that Carey & friends have claimed this spot - the BEST spot in the venue - and gave it to ME . . . I suddenly realize that I'm sweating. Bad. My Mamaw always said "Horses sweat, ladies perspire" . . . Well, Mamaw, I'm sorry to say ~ I was sweating. Gross. And then the nervous "Oh crap I get to meet him. Oh crap I gotta look decent. Oh crap what to do I say" started kicking in again, cueing the nervous sweats to begin. See?! Hot mess. I think they could all see the panic in my eyes, so I quickly left the pit, praying my spot would be there when I come back (this is like making a deal with the devil ... you barter and make promises hoping that someone is kind and lets you back where you were. Thank goodness for Carey's coworker Danny and his wife).
So ... fast-foward a few more disgustingly sweaty minutes and we were ushered back to this outdoor room where we awaited the appearance of this man. We took a few selfies (shhhh.... don't tell Kip). Now this is where the story get embarrassing. Kip Moore walks in . . . smiles a little smile and looks up with these insanely blue eyes . . . and although I meant to do a little scream type thing . . . I momentarily became Amy Farrah Fawler (Big Bang Theory) and emitted a sound similar to the sound Amy Farrah Fawler (you can't just call her Amy) when Zach shook her hand. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, YouTube it!) Embarrasing. So, now I'm even more nervous! I make Carey go first. And I stand and stare at Kip. With each person who goes up, he asks them their name, chats, signs stuff, asks things ... he is totally personable. And hot. So very hot. (This time I'm not referring to the fact that its like 150 degrees!)
Carey heads up, and see her chit-chatting and I'm just lost in the whole moment . . . until I realize that Carey has started to walk away and that KIP MOORE is looking at me, smiling . . waiting on me. I walk toward him and semi-think about talking, but instead I smile, mainly because that's safer than stumbling over my words. He says, "Hey baby, what's your name." I did remember to say Jill (Unlike my father, who introduced himself as Garth when we met Garth Brooks).
So, I'm standing there, next to Kip, waiting for Carey to take my bag like she said she would, and he says "Is this for me to sign?"
Umm.. JILL! PAY ATTENTION TO KIP! WHO CARES WHAT BAG YOU'RE HOLDING!!!!!!!!!! I quickly turn and say, "Yes please" and am greeted with a sweet smile. I hiss "Carey, take my bag!" She quickly turns with a "whoops" look on her face and finally I'm not distracted anymore. All my attention is on the man signing my new red trucker hat (yep, I bought a red trucker hat - it's his trademark!) Kip looks up as he finishes signing and says, "Are you looking forward to the show?" I replied something that meant yes, but I have no idea what it was ... because my mind went blank when I felt his arm go around me and pull me in for a picture.
Then, my inner diva starts freaking out -- Smile, Jill. But not TOO much ... not the "OOOH, I'm so excited" crazy girl smile; not the one where you ALL TEETH and a wrinkled nose. Where do I put my hand? Ooh, on my hip! Ooh, arm out; try to make it look thinner! Chin up - no double chins allowed. Which way do I tilt my head? Am I too close? Oh dear, if this picture doesn't turn out, I will scream! Good Lord, I hope I don't smell!
Its a stressful moment . . .way more stressful than others I had met. That's when I realized I had it BAD for Kip.
Anyway, back to the picture moment . . . picture is taken, he put his hand on my shoulder, and says, "Have a good time tonight, girl" -- I kinda melted, but replied -- "Oh, I will. I've been looking forward to this" -- He smiles and I swear there was a little twinkle in his eye as he said, "Well good, I'm glad you're excited." I wasn't quite ready for my moment to end yet, so I asked him to sign my M&G pass too . . . he replied - which his southern Georgia drawl, "Yeah, baby, I think I can do that for you." I reply with a very grateful thank you, he replies with, "Anytime, have fun tonight, girl" and then I was forced to leave him. Not like someone had to physically force me; just that I didn't want to leave. I walked into the hallway to find Carey and I see her gazing down at her phone (which Kip had signed) and see her knees buckle a little bit and she leans against the wall . . . . yeah, he got to her too. As she says, "I'm drinking the Kool-Aide now."
We return to the best spot in the venue (aka, the stinky stenchy pit) to rejoin our group and have people asking us what he's like and we recount the story together. I believe there were a few times when each us could barely mutter "He's just HOT"
And then it was time for the concert. Cassadee Pope opened ... she's good. But let me explain something else about our location. The stage comes to about my nose. No joke. It's that high. So you spent you night with head cranked back, looking up at the artists as the walk by. I mean, when we saw RF two weeks before at the same venue, we could very clearly see right up their shirts when they were on the edge. Gary has very few secrets left after standing over me for the entire night. OH, and then there is the pushing that takes place. And don't forget the heat.
Yes, I choose to be in the pit. Yes, it's wonderful. The energy is part of what makes a concert so amazing. And now, unfortunetely, Carey and I have become ticket snobs. It's become Pit or no go ... for the most part. I forced that rules to be broken because of my desperate need to finally see Keith Urban. Hmm... #sorrynotsorry
So,we wait in line so we can do the mad dash to the pit. I mean, that is a RACE. People run and scream and freak out. They open the gates, and I started getting patted down and they check my bag and see the Kip Moore flask I had brought with me to have him sign.
Line-ticket-taker-lady: "No flasks. No alcohol allowed ma'am"
Me: "Oh, its totally empty; never used it."
Line lady: "No flasks. No alcohol ma'am"
Me: "Seriously? So I have to take this back to my car?!?!"
Lady: "Yes"
Me: some strange frustrated/mad sound that was meant to show extreme dissatisfaction and exacerbation. It got me no where.
I get my sister's keys and walk as fast as I can back to the stupid car, then back to the gate. Yes, the idea of putting the flask somewhere on me or in my boot did cross my mind; thankfully I did NOT because they checked ALL of those spots before I was finally able to get into the venue (Not gonna lie, I felt slightly violated). Next task was finding Carey and friends in the pit; hoping they got an awesome spot. Have I mentioned how hot it was?!?! Me+brisk walking+hot = sweaty nasty gross. Oh my lanta ... I finally found Carey in the pit and WOWZA she has the PERFECT spot. I mean, PERFECT! Kip does most of the show from mainstage. She has saved me a spot right at the corner between the mainstage and catwalk. And I know from seeing him a few times that he leans over people to sing to them and interacts with the crowd A LOT, talking to people . . . especially during "Fly Again" -- and I'm in the PERFECT spot where I could possibly be one of those lucky people. WOW.
But . . . . Here's the problem .... remember how I said I was hot mess. I just practically ran to the car and then into the venue and down into the pit --- which is a perfect name for this area of a venue -- it's like you've been sucked into a black hole that has ZERO wind movement, LOTS of sticky, icky bodies and this stench that is a mixture of perfume, sweat, beer, and BO. Sounds awesome, right? I do love the pit ... but I love it much more in an air conditioned setting. As I'm standing in the pit, reveling in the fact that Carey & friends have claimed this spot - the BEST spot in the venue - and gave it to ME . . . I suddenly realize that I'm sweating. Bad. My Mamaw always said "Horses sweat, ladies perspire" . . . Well, Mamaw, I'm sorry to say ~ I was sweating. Gross. And then the nervous "Oh crap I get to meet him. Oh crap I gotta look decent. Oh crap what to do I say" started kicking in again, cueing the nervous sweats to begin. See?! Hot mess. I think they could all see the panic in my eyes, so I quickly left the pit, praying my spot would be there when I come back (this is like making a deal with the devil ... you barter and make promises hoping that someone is kind and lets you back where you were. Thank goodness for Carey's coworker Danny and his wife).
So ... fast-foward a few more disgustingly sweaty minutes and we were ushered back to this outdoor room where we awaited the appearance of this man. We took a few selfies (shhhh.... don't tell Kip). Now this is where the story get embarrassing. Kip Moore walks in . . . smiles a little smile and looks up with these insanely blue eyes . . . and although I meant to do a little scream type thing . . . I momentarily became Amy Farrah Fawler (Big Bang Theory) and emitted a sound similar to the sound Amy Farrah Fawler (you can't just call her Amy) when Zach shook her hand. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, YouTube it!) Embarrasing. So, now I'm even more nervous! I make Carey go first. And I stand and stare at Kip. With each person who goes up, he asks them their name, chats, signs stuff, asks things ... he is totally personable. And hot. So very hot. (This time I'm not referring to the fact that its like 150 degrees!)
Carey heads up, and see her chit-chatting and I'm just lost in the whole moment . . . until I realize that Carey has started to walk away and that KIP MOORE is looking at me, smiling . . waiting on me. I walk toward him and semi-think about talking, but instead I smile, mainly because that's safer than stumbling over my words. He says, "Hey baby, what's your name." I did remember to say Jill (Unlike my father, who introduced himself as Garth when we met Garth Brooks).
So, I'm standing there, next to Kip, waiting for Carey to take my bag like she said she would, and he says "Is this for me to sign?"
Umm.. JILL! PAY ATTENTION TO KIP! WHO CARES WHAT BAG YOU'RE HOLDING!!!!!!!!!! I quickly turn and say, "Yes please" and am greeted with a sweet smile. I hiss "Carey, take my bag!" She quickly turns with a "whoops" look on her face and finally I'm not distracted anymore. All my attention is on the man signing my new red trucker hat (yep, I bought a red trucker hat - it's his trademark!) Kip looks up as he finishes signing and says, "Are you looking forward to the show?" I replied something that meant yes, but I have no idea what it was ... because my mind went blank when I felt his arm go around me and pull me in for a picture.
Then, my inner diva starts freaking out -- Smile, Jill. But not TOO much ... not the "OOOH, I'm so excited" crazy girl smile; not the one where you ALL TEETH and a wrinkled nose. Where do I put my hand? Ooh, on my hip! Ooh, arm out; try to make it look thinner! Chin up - no double chins allowed. Which way do I tilt my head? Am I too close? Oh dear, if this picture doesn't turn out, I will scream! Good Lord, I hope I don't smell!
Its a stressful moment . . .way more stressful than others I had met. That's when I realized I had it BAD for Kip.
Anyway, back to the picture moment . . . picture is taken, he put his hand on my shoulder, and says, "Have a good time tonight, girl" -- I kinda melted, but replied -- "Oh, I will. I've been looking forward to this" -- He smiles and I swear there was a little twinkle in his eye as he said, "Well good, I'm glad you're excited." I wasn't quite ready for my moment to end yet, so I asked him to sign my M&G pass too . . . he replied - which his southern Georgia drawl, "Yeah, baby, I think I can do that for you." I reply with a very grateful thank you, he replies with, "Anytime, have fun tonight, girl" and then I was forced to leave him. Not like someone had to physically force me; just that I didn't want to leave. I walked into the hallway to find Carey and I see her gazing down at her phone (which Kip had signed) and see her knees buckle a little bit and she leans against the wall . . . . yeah, he got to her too. As she says, "I'm drinking the Kool-Aide now."
We return to the best spot in the venue (aka, the stinky stenchy pit) to rejoin our group and have people asking us what he's like and we recount the story together. I believe there were a few times when each us could barely mutter "He's just HOT"
And then it was time for the concert. Cassadee Pope opened ... she's good. But let me explain something else about our location. The stage comes to about my nose. No joke. It's that high. So you spent you night with head cranked back, looking up at the artists as the walk by. I mean, when we saw RF two weeks before at the same venue, we could very clearly see right up their shirts when they were on the edge. Gary has very few secrets left after standing over me for the entire night. OH, and then there is the pushing that takes place. And don't forget the heat.
Yes, I choose to be in the pit. Yes, it's wonderful. The energy is part of what makes a concert so amazing. And now, unfortunetely, Carey and I have become ticket snobs. It's become Pit or no go ... for the most part. I forced that rules to be broken because of my desperate need to finally see Keith Urban. Hmm... #sorrynotsorry
I digress. Back to show. I really don't know any Cassadee Pope songs, except that one about wasting tears ... and I'm thinking is we're wasting time before Kip comes on.
She finally gets done, I applaud the proper amount ... and go back to chatting with my group.
I kid you not, I thought I was melting. Ridiculous.
She finally gets done, I applaud the proper amount ... and go back to chatting with my group.
I kid you not, I thought I was melting. Ridiculous.
And then ..... music starts coming from the stage. The lights (if there were any) went down. And the crowd started to go wild as KIP MOORE strutted on to the stage, grabbed his guitar, and sauntered toward center stage. The band moved into "Crazy One More Time" as Kip took a few steps back and just played his guitar . . . and then he moved back to the microphone and sang, "Came on out, Mary Jane. I'm looking through your windowpane. I heard the news your back in town." ... My favorite line was when he said "In the sticky sweet air tonight I'll kiss you girl til I get it right" ... because the night was SO sticky sweet... or just sticky. It doesn't matter. He talks about kissing a girl til he gets it right -- that's good writing!
All in all this man puts on one hell of a show. He sang previous hits like "Beer Money" and "Something bout a Truck" as well as his love song "Hey Pretty Girl" which nearly makes me pass out when I hear it on my radio, let alone hear it live. He sang some of his new stuff. He dances .... eh, bops ... around to his songs, leaning over girls, driving them all crazy.
Now, remember how I said we had the PERFECT spot. It really is no lie. It was perfection. As if my night hadn't been amazing already ... this happened. I knew he was about to start "Fly Again" and I know what he does during the song, so I had been waiting for it. He starts talking about heartbreak; asking who had had their heart broken at least once. Of course the whole venue raises their hands. He turns are starts walking back to the stage, looking down at the pit on my side. He makes eyes contact with me and walks toward me and says "Have you had your heart broken?" I give him my best sad puppy dog eyes and nod my head yes. He replies "Sucks, don't it!" Again, I sadly nod. He says something else, and I continue to pray he won't walk away. To my surprise, I head him say, "What your name, baby?" as he leans down, putting the microphone toward my lips. Thankfully, I was able use my words and said, "Jill." He smiled and said "Jill. Nice to meet you, Jill. You like like a Jill."
Question: What do you say to that??? I have to make sure I keep this conversation going as long as I can so I need to be witty. Engaging.
I shrug and nod my head.
Ugh. Jill. Where do the witty and engaging go?!
I keep looking at him while I nod . . . and the most perfect thing happens . . . HE LAUGHS! He laughs like I've just told the funniest joke ever.
HAHA - see; I AM witty and engaging!
He then goes on to say, "We're gonna talk about the 1st stage of heartbreak. Jill, you look like you might be a bit of a sap."
I put on my tough girl pants and shake my head no.
He smiles.
Tough girl pants - GONE.
He continues, "Jill, you probably mope around the house for 1, maybe 2 months after a break up."
I put up a finger - for one - meaning one month. (Sometimes, I really dislike my awkwardness in these situations).
He just looks down at me a bit more and says, "You probably watch all those sad movies, like The Holiday." Those baby blues are starring me down and I feel the need to talk ... I shake my head and say back to him, "No, The Notebook" with a smirk. And just like that, he starts laughing. AGAIN. I made Kip Moore laugh TWICE during his concert. OMG. At that point, he finishes discussing the first stage with me, and moves on to talking to some other dude about the 2nd stage -- being REALLY mad. The third stage, according to Kip, is "you just don't give a damn!"
As he walks away, I nearly collapse because KIP MOORE just singled me out and actually TALKED TO ME during the concert. I had so many people patting me on the back, saying. "OMG, you're so lucky" and I was lucky I was able to breathe. I asked my sister if she taped it -- she got the end; with the laugh he gave me after I said I watch The Notebook ... and then her friend Danny showed me the picture he took. THANK YOU, THANK YOU Danny!
All in all this man puts on one hell of a show. He sang previous hits like "Beer Money" and "Something bout a Truck" as well as his love song "Hey Pretty Girl" which nearly makes me pass out when I hear it on my radio, let alone hear it live. He sang some of his new stuff. He dances .... eh, bops ... around to his songs, leaning over girls, driving them all crazy.
Now, remember how I said we had the PERFECT spot. It really is no lie. It was perfection. As if my night hadn't been amazing already ... this happened. I knew he was about to start "Fly Again" and I know what he does during the song, so I had been waiting for it. He starts talking about heartbreak; asking who had had their heart broken at least once. Of course the whole venue raises their hands. He turns are starts walking back to the stage, looking down at the pit on my side. He makes eyes contact with me and walks toward me and says "Have you had your heart broken?" I give him my best sad puppy dog eyes and nod my head yes. He replies "Sucks, don't it!" Again, I sadly nod. He says something else, and I continue to pray he won't walk away. To my surprise, I head him say, "What your name, baby?" as he leans down, putting the microphone toward my lips. Thankfully, I was able use my words and said, "Jill." He smiled and said "Jill. Nice to meet you, Jill. You like like a Jill."
Question: What do you say to that??? I have to make sure I keep this conversation going as long as I can so I need to be witty. Engaging.
I shrug and nod my head.
Ugh. Jill. Where do the witty and engaging go?!
I keep looking at him while I nod . . . and the most perfect thing happens . . . HE LAUGHS! He laughs like I've just told the funniest joke ever.
HAHA - see; I AM witty and engaging!
He then goes on to say, "We're gonna talk about the 1st stage of heartbreak. Jill, you look like you might be a bit of a sap."
I put on my tough girl pants and shake my head no.
He smiles.
Tough girl pants - GONE.
He continues, "Jill, you probably mope around the house for 1, maybe 2 months after a break up."
I put up a finger - for one - meaning one month. (Sometimes, I really dislike my awkwardness in these situations).
He just looks down at me a bit more and says, "You probably watch all those sad movies, like The Holiday." Those baby blues are starring me down and I feel the need to talk ... I shake my head and say back to him, "No, The Notebook" with a smirk. And just like that, he starts laughing. AGAIN. I made Kip Moore laugh TWICE during his concert. OMG. At that point, he finishes discussing the first stage with me, and moves on to talking to some other dude about the 2nd stage -- being REALLY mad. The third stage, according to Kip, is "you just don't give a damn!"
As he walks away, I nearly collapse because KIP MOORE just singled me out and actually TALKED TO ME during the concert. I had so many people patting me on the back, saying. "OMG, you're so lucky" and I was lucky I was able to breathe. I asked my sister if she taped it -- she got the end; with the laugh he gave me after I said I watch The Notebook ... and then her friend Danny showed me the picture he took. THANK YOU, THANK YOU Danny!
I mean, this is LEGIT photographic evidence. AND, I know I didn't imagine my name. You know, you hear everyone at a concert say, "OMG, he LOOKED at me! RIGHT AT ME." I'm guilty of it too . . . but being as he actually asked me my name . . . there is no pretending or delusions here.
Yeah, this one night put Kip Moore in the "untouchable" category with Rascal Flatts & Garth Brooks. I don't think that moment will EVER be beat.
I don't know that I'd want it to be.
I ended up being given Kip's set list . . . and no one seemed to be mad that I get it. It was almost like a unwritten "she deserves it" moment. Carey and I have other set lists, and they are often ripped by the time you get them from the stage crew ... this isn't. Pretty sure next time I see Kip, that's what I'm asking him to sign.
And there will be a next time. And a time after that. He is, without a doubt, my favorite current artist. He was tied for #1 with Jake Owen. Both are awesome. This put him over the top. And like I said, I don't know that it can or that I even want it to be beat. It was simply amazing.
When you get a chance, check out Kip Moore. His album is amazing; one of the few I will listen to on repeat. Check out some of things he's done to protect his fans; such as refusing to have his ticket prices go over $35 and putting rude people in their place when they were viciously tearing apart a woman in a meet & greet picture. Even before this night, he wowed me with his voice and his looks (not gonna lie - the man is hot ... even with the trucker hat). But mostly, his lyrics. He's one of those artists that write about real life; you can relate to a lot of what he sings. All in all, in my opinion - he's the real deal -- he sings to his fans because its fun. He doesn't care what critics say; he cares what his fans say. And you can tell he loves it. During one of the songs, he full on sprinted to the lawn to interact with fans out there. In all the shows I've been to at FMBA, I've never seen someone go the lawn. He finds a way to make everyone feel special.
He definitely made me feel EXTRA special. And I loved it! :)
Yeah, this one night put Kip Moore in the "untouchable" category with Rascal Flatts & Garth Brooks. I don't think that moment will EVER be beat.
I don't know that I'd want it to be.
I ended up being given Kip's set list . . . and no one seemed to be mad that I get it. It was almost like a unwritten "she deserves it" moment. Carey and I have other set lists, and they are often ripped by the time you get them from the stage crew ... this isn't. Pretty sure next time I see Kip, that's what I'm asking him to sign.
And there will be a next time. And a time after that. He is, without a doubt, my favorite current artist. He was tied for #1 with Jake Owen. Both are awesome. This put him over the top. And like I said, I don't know that it can or that I even want it to be beat. It was simply amazing.
When you get a chance, check out Kip Moore. His album is amazing; one of the few I will listen to on repeat. Check out some of things he's done to protect his fans; such as refusing to have his ticket prices go over $35 and putting rude people in their place when they were viciously tearing apart a woman in a meet & greet picture. Even before this night, he wowed me with his voice and his looks (not gonna lie - the man is hot ... even with the trucker hat). But mostly, his lyrics. He's one of those artists that write about real life; you can relate to a lot of what he sings. All in all, in my opinion - he's the real deal -- he sings to his fans because its fun. He doesn't care what critics say; he cares what his fans say. And you can tell he loves it. During one of the songs, he full on sprinted to the lawn to interact with fans out there. In all the shows I've been to at FMBA, I've never seen someone go the lawn. He finds a way to make everyone feel special.
He definitely made me feel EXTRA special. And I loved it! :)