Monday, May 12, 2008
I taught my childhood best friend's 2-year-old daughter to say this on Saturday when I visited them.
Accidentally, and no harm done, but when she came up to me declaring sticky fingers after eating a rice krispy treat, I said it.
Then she said it. And she kept saying it. And then she'd laugh. It was adorable.
But it was me using the phrase later that day when Rye and I got home from an afternoon at Jenny's.
Because Jenny totally said she'd go to Chicago with me to see New Kids on the Block perform for the first time in 15 years. OK, so she said we'd have to drive, but still. She said we could go. And I was excited.
Unbeknownst to me, tickets had gone on sale about six hours earlier.
And every single one was gone.
Every. Single. One.
Seriously, I was surprised. This was the group that I got made fun of for years for liking. This was the band whose T-shirt I refused to stop wearing, even after mean, mean eighth-grade girls physically hit me and sneered at me in the halls of my new middle school for wearing it.
My New Kids love burned deep, and I wasn't about to let anyone squash it, not jealous boys and not mean old bullies.
So I went to eBay, thinking I'd be willing to pay $20 over face value.
Silly me, though. Try tickets going for $300 and $400. Apiece.
So, alas, Jenny and I will not be driving to Chicago to see the now much older boys from Beantown.
And I am sad about this for several reasons. One, obviously, is how much fun it would be to see them up on stage again (assuming they are, you know, still good). And the second: A road trip with Jenny would have been fun.
The bright side, though: The demand hopefully means more supply. More concerts.
Om-a-ha. Om-a-ha. Om-a-ha.