I have been a getting into the social-buying coupon thing lately. You know, Groupon, Living Social, Super Saver type stuff. I’ve been paying more attention to what they’ve had lately, trying to get away from the all-discounted-photobook-all-the-time shopping mentality. A few weeks ago we scored Neil Diamond tickets – and it was a damned good show. Last week I saw discounted LMFAO tickets for downtown Miami, and thought — yeah, I’m Sexy and I know it….

I knew that this type of concert wasn’t really Dear Hubby’s style, so I made a tactical move: I called my single, Miami Beach native, guitar-playing best friend, and told him we were going. This reassured me that my fist-pumping and rhythmically questionable dance moves would pretty much go unnoticed. This concert was, after all, really just a giant, expensive, rave. And this was nothing out of the ordinary for a Miami Beach guy.

It was – by far – the loudest concert I have ever attended. We made it to our seats in time for the 2nd to last of the opening electronica acts. The Miami HEAT had just won the championship the night before, and it seemed like the party was still going. They brought out DJ Irie (I think) – the DJ from the HEAT games, and a 10 minute version of “Let’s go Heat” started through the crowd. My BFF was busy dancing on his own, but stopped long enough so we could discuss the **keytar** being pretend-played on the stage — YES, I said KEYTAR!! Apparently the Keytar is cool again. Who knew? That, and the fact that there was the smallest mixing booth ever being used for this concert. I guess you really don’t need that many engineers to push PLAY on the backing tracks.

Finally LMFAO came on stage – and I’ll admit it — I own their latest album. Yep, the whole album. Great mindless running music – don’t judge.

I was only a little disturbed when I noticed that I was sitting in a section full of 12 year olds and their parents who were all screaming singing  “I’m in Miami, Bitch”. Then it hit me: I’m going to have to start bringing my kids to their concerts – not mine – soon. I remembered all the time that Mom or Dad hauled me off to see Rick Springfield, Jack Wagner, or some other random soap opera star. The Monkees reunion. Hall and Oates. Crap — I made mom take me to a wrestling match to see Hulk Hogan. That’s what good parents do. And I was sitting in the section full of good parents, letting their kids fist-pump to the music that is all around them. Seriously, I think the Amish are churning milk to “I’m Sexy and I Know It” – no one is immune.

So I took a good look around at the parents – and then I saw HIM: The dad that had 3 pre-teen boys with him (I’m assuming one was his son), and he was sporting a big ‘fro and neon sunglasses. Immediately I declared him The Coolest Dad in the World.  I know, my dad is cool; Dear Hubby is a cool dad. BUT THIS GUY WAS REALLY FREAKIN’ COOL. I chased him to try to sneak a photo on the way out — it’s blurry and  he’s crossing the street – but he was fun.

Anyway — the concert ended with the Sexy song, complete with dancing speedos in all shapes and sizes. With one glaring exception that they stopped selling beer at 9:30 – the concert was great, and I danced in my car going home – fist-pumping all the way.