| I recently got to see Carrie Underwood, live and in flesh, coming out of the stage on a jukebox, screaming at the top of her lungs, “HE WAS A COWBOY CASANOVA LEANING UP AGAINST THE RECORD MACHINEEEEEEE” It was one of the best moments of my life. I was beside my mother. Carrie Underwood is her favorite artist and I would be lying if I can't get down to any one of her songs. Album only track “Quitter” from Play On is my personal favorite. |  A picture of me (right) and the mother (left) with the prominent placement of a stranger (middle) all in the midst of pulsating strobe lights. |
We did a concert the right way. I had on my red velvet. My mother her fringe cowboy boots, my father refuses to acknowledge as actual “boots”. We got Italian. Spent too much money. We got their early, got gorged on the cost of drinks. $8.50 for Pepsi and I don't even get free refills? God is going to get these capitalists in hell, I promise.
My mother was underwhelmed by the Swonn Brothers and was more impressed by Easton Corbin. I couldn't tell the flannel white boys apart.
Would I recommend seeing Carrie Underwood? You get live vocals. She walks around the stage. There are props. Sure, she's not whirling around in a harness like P!nk, but this was some Shania Twain quality production and that's something you just can't get everyday for the low, low price of $71, plus shipping and handling fees.
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