Today, friends... I have a confession.
When I was 13 or 14, I became obsessed (and I mean... stalker obsessed) with a band. I bought BOP magazines and I cut their pictures out and I hung them on my wall until two of my four bedroom walls were literally wallpapered with these people. I joined their fanclub. My entire pre-pubescent allowance was invested in listening to, looking at, reading about and watching this band. Not once, though, did they come in concert where I lived. My best friend bought their concert tape (YES, VHS, GET OFF ME!) and we watched it and screamed like we were there. We also laughed as we realized the lead singer had a dance that made it appear as though he had to pee whilst playing the keyboard standing upright. It was delightful. All of it.
So, two nights ago, I get a text message. My little sister, who was probably six at the time, tells me they're coming to town in concert. I contacted my BFF from the old days to tell her and we just bought tickets. That's right, friends.
WE'RE SEEING HANSON IN SEPTEMBER!
This is where you stop judging me and just listen. I have waited fifteen years to see these people and I don't care that they look like girls or that they've since had 17 children each or that my husband shook his head at me during a FaceTime and said "Wow" when he really meant "Yikes". You. Just. Stop. I don't care that I'm practically almost menopausal (if almost-30-year-olds are menopausal) or that I just spent $34 of my husband's hard earned money. This is happening and you can't stop it. I swear to everything holy, if they don't play MmmBop, I will kill myself.
