One night near the end of our vacation in California, my sisters went to a Keith Urban concert. I was invited but declined, even though it was Vix's birthday and they were riding in a limousine to the concert. So Stevie Wonder got dragged along, and I stayed home and relaxed with my nephew Chris. They also picked up Vix's son Dan and his wife Amanda. It was a real party. Amanda kept me updated on Facebook.
I woke up sometime after midnight with Vix telling me that she and Dooj had TOUCHED Keith Urban. She wasn't just standing there calmly telling me. She was leaning over me and bouncing the bed on both sides of my head and screaming it at me. And then Dooj slid sideways into the room and screamed "I touched his face!!!" while Vix screamed immediately afterward "and I touched his love handles!!!" (For those of you who read this stuff I post, and don't know what a love handle is, it is the area on both sides of your waist right above your belt. Don't ask me why they call it that...it has nothing to do with love, or being a handle.)
Vix and Dooj were wired and I told them yay I was glad they got to maul Keith Urban for a few seconds, and I'd see them in the morning. They were on cloud 9 1/2 and I think they lasted a while longer before they finally crashed into bed.
I think this is 6 Keith Urban concerts Vix has been to. More power to her. After the second one she took me to, I told her I was done. That was the concert that had Carrie Underwood performing first, and she was so shrill and loud my ears felt like they were bleeding. That was the first, and only, concert I have ever attended that I had to wear Kleenex stuffed into my ears because the music was painful. That was it, I was cooked.
What's not to grin about? Keith Urban, consider yourself lucky. You have been squeezed by the Jones girls.