I believe the pain I’m feeling right now is a direct result of my 16 year old self kicking my ass. That, or I just drank too much beer last night… at the NKOTBSB concert! That’s right, not just one but – gasp! – two boy bands, on one stage, in a harmonious blend of sparkles and hip thrusts. It was actually phenomenal. No joke.
My friends Ashlee and Jessica (sisters, equally as fabulous, if not more than the famous Simpsons) had an extra ticket and extended the invite to me, which I quickly accepted. I met up the ladies on a patio prior to the show, to grab some food and start plying myself with alcohol.
Now let me digress a bit, and address why my 16 year old self is so irritated with me right now. Back in 1998, I was a fresh faced youth, full of promise – and a lot of attitude. I considered myself to live well off the mainstream path, as I was obviously a unique and infinitely interesting creature. I hated boy bands. I also had purple hair periodically. Instead, I loved all things Punk Rock and spent a significant amount of my time at live shows. Concerts were my happy place. So understandably so, that renegade version of myself could never – I mean NEVER – picture herself signing along to Back Street Boys songs and giddily snapping photos everytime the cute ones were on her end of the stage. I think I just got punched in the stomach by her again.
Oh, and the stage was shaped like a penis.