She told lots of wonderful stories, they were all so heartfelt and funny. She is really a nice person. I was sitting in the [nosebleed row #] so I couldn't really hear what she was saying, but hey, she's Tori, so I clapped and laughed and yelled like a wild [gender] whenever she would deliver the [punchline/deep thought ending].
She said something like "I'm a really good piano player" and everyone started laughing but I don't know what she was talking about. Did I mention I am [sexually repressed and/or still living with my parents]?
She played [list every song even though we all know she plays the exact same thing every show] and they were wonderful, but I was kind of disappointed when she didn't play [obscure tori song that i played over and over for 31 hours straight after my [boy/girl] friend dumped me].
She was talking to the audience as if they were all close friends of hers, and even though I was in [nosebleed row#] and Tori was about the size of an ant, I felt like she was staring right at me. Of course, I think everyone is looking at me most of the time.
Then, she turned and faced the audience, and everyone suddenly became very quiet, because we all knew we were about to experience the religious experience of sexual trauma and empowerment known as Me and a Gun. All the women in the audience suddenly became serious and looked at their dates with scorn and murmured "shut up and listen, asshole." Tori sang the words with [pain/ecstasy/hurt/strength/pity] and I heard people all around me weeping openly. Just as the audience was at the height of awkwardness and dead-silence-uncomfortableness, some [guy/girl] in the balcony stood up and yelled [WE LOVE YOU TORI!!/GO TORI!!/CUT HIS BALLS OFF TORI!!/DOES TRENT REZNOR REALLY HAVE A NINE INCH NAIL TORI?!] and was immediately jumped by 20 rabid feminists who pummled [him/her] to death.
Tori continued the rest of the show, wonderful as ever, and finally came back for [one/two] encores, which were [we all know, they're the same every time but i'll tell you anyway].
My friends and I rushed backstage, knocking over several smaller fans as we made our way to the exit that Tori would leave via. There was already a crowd of unattractive girls there, waiting around for her arrival. Then Tori's bodyguard walked out, who looks JUST like a Ken doll. He told us that Tori wouldn't be able to sign any autographs because [she's tired/she's in a bad mood/she's sick]. So we all stood around anyway, and when Tori came out we all tried to rush her. The bodyguard pushed us all back, and we were all shouting "We love you Tori!" She looked at us, made a gesture with her shoulders that said "I'm sorry, they are making me leave, I can't help it!"
Feeling really desperate, I jumped through the line clutching my [poem/song/drawing/love letter/obsessive-fan-stalking-threatening note-written-with-letter-clippings-from-magazines-describing exactly-what-I want-to-do-to-Tori] and threw it at her. She caught it, swore she would look at it as soon as she could, and I nearly exploded with happiness.
As her stretch limo pulled away, I stood there with 50 other girls who shared one thing: We didn't need men to make us happy, we didn't have to be attractive to feel confident, and we knew listening to Tori music 24 hours a day would eventually help us overcome our individual traumas.