Kings of Leon? Incredible. Douchebag in Corduroy? Not So Much.

Last night was one of many in my past when I stood in a crowd of the most randomly diverse group of people whose one common thread was the band of four dudes on stage.

From awkward lesbian lovers to the girl running through the crowd wreaking of disaster who most certainly pooped her pants, everyone had no choice but to cheer with the same vigor for the musicians who spent their youth traveling the country with their notorious former evangelist father. So much pent-up angst to share with the world, and so many who come together to watch have to fondly appreciate, under vodka-induced pontification of course, that shared love of a band.

This would be the point in the story where the music stops... and the records violently screech. And to be fair, the girl pooping her pants could have qualified for this reaction earlier just as easily.

Unfortunately, she was topped by the random douchebag in corduroy who legitimately shoved me out of his way and subsequently cut in front of me in the bar line I had been standing in for no less than ten minutes.

So, to you, Mr. Corduroy, I say please be a dear and go fuck yourself. Certainly under normal circumstances it might be no big deal to have to wait for an extra few minutes, but Jackie O has had one long-ass week of work, hadn't eaten all day, and was patiently waiting on her third much-needed double vodka/Red Bull. Without food? I'm cranky. Without alcohol? I'm a headcase. And when a dude seriously shoves a girl without a second look? I take a picture of what I hope to be a one-of-a-kind item.

I know what some of you may be thinking... that I turned into a complete vagina for not snatching his ass back into line behind me. To be fair, there was a very complex sequence of events that led to my decision, specifically based on the logistics of the ceiling fans, as well as proximity to the restrooms, as well as the unfortunate location of the dirty hookers seventeen feet to the southwest of his right shoulder... it just wasn't ideal.

Or I was a complete vagina. I think I'm okay with that, though. A fact of which I was certain as soon as I finally had vodka/mouth contact...

One thing I also had was impeccable hearing, so thank you & your tab, Mr. Corduroy, for that drink as well as my next two. You can shove me any time, baby.