One fine Sunday afternoon, or perhaps Monday, I�m not really sure, I was
ambling down glorious Market Street in beautiful San Francisco when I
happened to pass by the Warfield. Up to this point, I never really paid too
much attention to this establishment because to me it represented
degradation and was a veritable convergence of kilts and all things unholy.
On this particular day, however, I happened to notice the sign above the
main entrance read in big, bold, black letters "FALL OUT BOY."
"FALL OUT BOY?" I thought to myself. "I thoroughly enjoy FALL OUT BOY!
Maybe this cesspool isn�t quite so indignant as I was once believed! I
wish to attend this event riddled with merriment and tolerable levels of
audio infidelity!"

Boy, was I excited! I knew that I had to be one of the mind-numblingly,
idiotic attendees of this concert. A problem presented itself, however: my
three-dollar chartreuse Chibimaru adorned wallet left something to be
desired. Namingly money. This, however, did not quell my excitement, for I
was bound and determined to make my way in to this event! I was bound by
the diamond tethers of fate to be a member of the audience for this
concert. Thursday was pretty damned close, though.
The next few days went by fairly uneventfully and with no funds being
procured for my enjoyment. Sad was I, until, on Wednesday, I chanced to
meet up with my good friends Timothy and Jack while meandering through the
les-than-aesthetically-pleasing Tenderloin. After an hour or so of a
rigorous Magic: The Gathering card battle which was ultimately interrupted
by both party (I was merely an onlooker) having to react deftly to the
quivering of their bowels, I was informed of a focus group I which they were
participating. I was told the payment for attendance was a small but ample
sum of money. Excitedly, I requested to join. They happily informed me
that all I needed to do was be there I order to receive payment. Three
cheers! For I was delighted to no end at hearing this.
Heading over to the point of convergence for this focus group, I discovered
time remained before this meeting was called to order. I met up with
another friend at this point and we decided to take a stroll before business
was to be taken care of. En route back we discovered a bottle of coffee
liqueur with tequila! Oh boy! Drunk was I at this meeting!
After spewing a few random thoughts with the intention of seeming to
participate and care, I received, much to my disappointment, a fifteen
dollar gift certificate for Amoeba Music Store. Cursing the foulness of
this, I began to devise a scheme to acquire the funds necessary for my
concert. I had discovered it would cost me twenty-five dollars in order to
attend. I already had fifteen of these dollars in my possession from
degrading myself to the point of being a gopher. Money is money, however.
I decided to head over to this Amoeba store and post myself outside and
attempt to sell my fifteen dollar certificate for ten dollars. You would be
surprised how many people don�t believe bargains are real! One of my other
friends had given me her certificate on the grounds that she would be
leaving shortly and thusly not have a chance to use hers. So, after a couple
of hours of attempting to entice people with my bargain, I finally managed
two successes. I now had extra money, so I bought a pack of cigarettes and
shared them with a traveling kid I met over near the store. Good things
happen to good people, after all.

On my way back, a man requested a cigarette from me, and I happily complied
with his request. He invited me to partake in a marijuana cigarette he and
his friend were about to enjoy, and I accepted the invitation. I rode the
train home and reveled in my intoxication while reading the most recent
issue of "The Onion."

Thursday was finally here! After obtaining my free Camel cigarettes I
headed over to the Warfield with great expediency with hopes of being the
first in line to purchase a ticket, since I had discovered pre-paid tickets
were sold out. I had also discovered this day that the concert was the
Nintendo Fusion Tour, a concert I had desired to go to previously in my
life. I arrived at around two o�clock and the doors didn�t open until six.
I really wanted that ticket! A line had already begun to form and I was
about number ten. I didn�t mind, however, because I had very high hopes.
I engaged in a pleasant discourse with my fellow line mates as I waited
patiently. I had decided to take a break and sit down on the sidewalk, as I
had been standing for quite some time. A short while later, a cute little
bulldog who was with some people in the front of the line noticed me and
decided I was prime for licking. Rushing over to my position, she began to
lather me up with her sticky puppy slobber. I began to giggle happily
regardless of the burning sensation I was feeling from having shaved that
morning without using shaving cream or aftershave. I engaged in conversation
with the doggie�s companion and discovered her name to be Volcom.
Shortly thereafter I discovered the line I was in was for people who already
had tickets; the line for those without had yet to form, so I decided I
could head over to RoadDawgz to visit the splendorous Machiko and my fellow
patrons of RoadDawgz. Upon my return, I noticed the line for ticketless
saps had begun, so I quickly claimed my place behind a fairly attractive
girl. I engaged in conversation with her as a friendly gesture and to help
us both pass the time.

A little while later, the companion of beautiful Volcom came over and asked
me if I already had a ticket to which I said no. Then he asked me if I had
a friend. Almost embarrassed, I looked at my feet and muttered no, again.
He asked the girl I was talking to if she had a ticket, yet, too. She
responded in the same fashion. He motioned for us to follow him
and so we did. We arrived at his place in line at which point he informed us
that two of his friends had decided not to show for the concert, so he had two
extra tickets that he was giving away. We each offered to pay, but he refused to
let us. I assisted him with carrying a few articles back to his vehicle as
he explained to me that this happens a lot. We returned to the line and he handed me and my new acquaintance each a ticket. These were for the floor, too! WOW! Supposedly, these were the best tickets available! So I was able to get in to my concert for free! Score!

I could recount to you the remainder of the events which transpired that
evening, but it would detract from the message I am trying to send: You
should always have hope and faith for whatever you do. As long as you
really really really want to do it, chances are, you�re going to get to!
Also: use shaving cream and aftershave, just in case.