Sweaty palms, nausea, a face you'd swear was a slice of pepperoni pizza, and a massive migraine all combined to make one hell of an anxiety attack today. So what's the cause of my plight? Is it world peace, nuclear war, the impending election? Today I fought millions of AmEx members in the battle for premier seats to see Metallica. It was a long, bitter and ferocious war. Five bitten fingernails and bloody cuticles later, I scored two outrageously awesome / sick / sweet / phat (fill in your contemporary adjective) seats. I'm still recovering from all of the ticketmaster mumbo jumbo horse puckey but the good news is, we're in. Wish me luck on the Metclub's meet & greet lottery. I'm going to need it, until then I've got Het in hand.
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