It's mid-morning on a Wednesday and we're sitting at our computers in our respective houses nervously awaiting the magical moment when we'll be able to log on and buy Jonas Brothers concert tickets.
We're nervous about the codes.
Worse, all this time travel/mentioning the year stuff has me thinking about The Year 3000, trying to figure out how to riff off of that in my opening lines, and then realizing no one who reads my blog will know what the hell I'm talking about.
Once upon a time I spent my lunch hour ironing "I love Nick Jonas" onto a t-shirt one letter at a time because my daughter realized belatedly that she didn't have "appropriate" clothing for the show that night.
Once upon a time I drove across the country searching for free wifi in a McDonald's or rest area so that I could search for a local hotel that had the Disney channel so we didn't miss any of the versions of Camp Rock that aired for the first time that week.
And then, it was later. Mayday Parade, Anarbor and We the Kings in a bar in the south suburbs. All American Rejects at the Metro. Yellowcard at the House of Blues. Vans Warped Tour. Repeat.
And then it was later still. Music I didn't recognize and didn't like blasting from her phone in the car, knocking on her door and getting no answer because the subwoofer drowned me out. She's hitting the road with people I've never met to see The Foo Fighters in another state.
And now, the Jonas Brothers are back.
And I can't talk to you anymore, because tickets go on sale in 20 minutes and I need to obsessively check my payment details and make sure there's no way I can screw this up.
