My Jack Johnson Concert Review

I'm back from my road trip and I totally get the Beatles now about the whole long and winding road thing. I bet they were on Rt. 89 when they wrote that song.

Traveling Rt. 89, completely by accident, can teach you some valuable life lessons. For instance, it's not good for man to be alone. Someone should write a scripture about that because when a man is alone he often ends up writing songs about the long and winding roads of life.

What I want to know is why hasn't anyone ever written a song about the low fuel lights of life?

Those low fuel lights can really strike fear into a man's heart when he is alone on the long and winding roads of life.

Which reminds me of my ex-door neighbor Martha. She wrote this in my comment box when she found out I was going on my trip: Don't forget to get gas once in a while. I won't be there to rescue you!!

Martha was always taking care of me. Feeding me. Buying me clothes. Scheduling my children's sporting events and making up calendars so I could show up on time. And one time I actually did run out of gas while driving into town and who do you think threw on her red cape and came running to save me? That's right! Martha! Martha! Martha!

She's a real peach, that one.

Luckily I didn't need her to rescue me on the long and winding road because I can drive a good 50 miles with a low fuel light.

So first things first. Before I tell you about my road trip, I must tell you about my Friday the 13th, which is always my luckiest day of the year. And which just so happened to be the Jack Johnson concert.

I woke up on Friday the 13th feeling like a Lucky Charm, as usual, so I called Mix 107.9 and tried to win me some John Mayer tickets. I was the only caller to call in 60 seconds before the contest actually started. What are the odds of that?

See what I mean?

Then I called again 60 seconds later and I was the #1 caller!

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

Too bad they were looking for the 10th caller. But hey, I was nine callers closer than you guys were to winning those tickets.

I wasn't the only one having good luck that day. My twins came home super excited because they had gotten free paint and Canada patches from a yard sale.

And my daughter received a package in the mail full of YUM-O Hawaiian goodness from her best friend.

PERFECT timing to set the mood for the Jack Johnson concert!

MUCHOS MAHALO best friend!

Amanda couldn't make the trip from D.C. to go to the concert with me so I took my Rock Star brother and his wife, Lynita, who I forced at gunpoint to donate a story and t-shirt for my next magic quilt.

Lynita had never been to a concert before, besides Amy Grant, who doesn't count if you ask me.

So this was her first official concert.

It was also the first official time she's had beer spilled on her pants. (You can't get that experience at Amy Grant now, can you?)


I also took my supermodel daughter. (Don't ask me why I'm pointing out the old guy behind me. I have no earthly idea.)

The concert started at 7 p.m., and here we are right on time.

And here we are two hours later still waiting for the concert to start. (Yes, I took my hub to the concert too, and yes that's his head trying to get in on the photo action.)

There were two bands before JJ. The first band was ALO:

And then there was G-Love, who I lubbingly refer to as G-Lub.

G-Lub is naughty.

Naughty, naughty, naughty. He likes booty calls. And he likes to sing about booty calls. And the old people in SLC get excited when G-lub sings about booty calls.

This old people grabbed his daughter and started shaking his booty with her to the booty call song.

And this old guy just started shaking his booty.

While we were waiting for JJ to come on stage I was just people watching--watching people watching me.

Concert people are weirdies, man. You can always tell the weirdie concert people by what they're wearing, or by what they're not wearing. Let's just say I was wearing the most underwear of anybody there. And the least tie-dye. Why do concert weirdies always wear tie-dye?

Oh wait. That tie-dye wearing weirdie is one of my brothers.

Never mind.

Jack Johnson weirdies have their own brand of expressing their devotion at his concerts. Some of them wear baseball caps sporting a pineapple and others wear t-shirts of Hawaiian tropic models that say Nice Papayas. Mostly they just don't wear any underwear.

But when JJ comes on stage, none of it matters because his voice is like buttah. Fo' reals. (Some) live performances are so much mo' bettah than recordings.

JJ doesn't sing about booty calls. JJ sings about peace on Earth, good will toward men.

And JJ donates all of his proceeds to help keep the planet clean. He gives a hoot and doesn't pollute.

But some of his fans don't give a hoot!






I hope JJ doesn't have to clean up after his fans. It would break his little heart. Next year I'm going to bring a couple of hefty garbage bags and do it myself.

JJ brought some cool friends to sing with him, namely Paula Fuga. She can wail.

But my fav, fav, favorite was JJ's piano player, Zach Gill. He was AMAZING! LUB, LUB, LUBBED him.

He's da man!

Okay, I have a question for you guys: JJ opened and closed his show with the perfect songs. They are exactly what I would have chosen to sing if I was a famous rock star.

Can you guess which songs they were? I'll send you some seaweed if you can.

I know you all have a question for me too. You want to know if my good luck landed me another Jack Johnson meeting and photo op, huh? Cuz you're sick and tired of me posting the same photo over and over and over, huh?

This old thing!

Well, the answer is yes! YES! YES of course I got a new updated photo! I wouldn't dream of letting you guys down when it comes to photographic evidence.