Showing posts with label bsb. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bsb. Show all posts

Monday, November 15, 2010

tangent thirty-seven: NKOTBSB. OMG.

Pinch me.
No really. Do it. I didn't think magic was real. That dreams came true. That Lindsay Lohan had the tenacity of a cockroach. I have proven myself wrong, dear readers. Scratch that. NKOTBSB has proven me wrong. I believe now that anything is possible. There are things you come to accept and eventually love when you get to know me. One of those things is my love for pop culture. More specifically, my love for 90s pop culture. And even more specifically, my love for boy bands. An announcement was made the other day that two of the greatest boy bands are joining forces. New Kids on the Block, pioneers of the sub-genre and Backstreet Boys, the prized objects of my affection since I first heard them on Star 94, are teaming up to go on tour. Why hasn't this happened sooner? And to all of you out there who once chose 'N Sync over BSB: You may have won a couple of battles back in the day. But look who's winning the mother f-ing war. Sure, you had Justin Timberlake in your corner way back when. Yes, he is amazing. He did all the work though, and once he went solo it was all over for the rest of them. Plus, NKOTNSYNC? No way. The current acronym is perfect. I know that to most of you this event is meaningless. And that's fine. After Millennium, the boys' albums didn't take too kindly with most people. I have bought every single one (physically, not digitally) and believe in some karmic way that this tour was meant to be for those of us who stayed true. I don't want to bore you with the other umpteen reasons why this tour will be magical. All I know is that I will be there with bells on. I will elbow my way to the front. I will call girls bitches for elbowing their way to the front. I will scream. I will cry. It will be the greatest night of my life.

Peace. Love. Dear Kevin, retirement's over.

Friday, March 26, 2010

tangent twenty-four: God must be mad at me.

All I wanted to do was go on this cruise. Tickets went on sale while I was out of town. I even begged my mom when I found out about it. Apparently it's not appropriate for 24-year-olds to want to do this kind of thing. And apparently I'm supposed to have a job by December 9 (when the glorious boat sets sail). Well I hope you're happy, Mother, because look what happened:


Peace. Love. Quit playing games with my heart, Mom (and God).

PS: If anyone wants to sign me up for the waiting list please feel free. I'll do whatever it takes to get on that boat. Whatever. It. Takes.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

tangent twenty-one: Backstreet's back. so am I.


Alright.
Do you see what I did there? I included the same song lyric in the title and the greeting. I'm awesome. Although maybe not to any of you considering it's been, what? like 8 months since I last posted. I'm only a little bit sorry. Life gets busy, and I'm not a good multi-tasker when it comes to big stuff. Little stuff I'm okay with. You know, like watching a marathon on Bravo while simultaneously playing online Bingo and Scrabble on my phone. I'm not sure why online Bingo entertains me so much. I think it's because I win a lot. And even though I don't win anything but virtual tokens, it somehow persuades me to believe that I am of greater importance than the rest of the people on this earth. Or at least of greater importance than the rest of the people playing online Bingo. For one measly moment I am on a pedestal. I think it's pretty safe to say that if I'm the one playing online Bingo and you're the one being productive or perhaps playing real Bingo for real money then you're of greater importance. Well, if you actually win. If not, I'm the one who hasn't lost any money and I still get to play. I know what you're thinking though. How uncool is this chick. Maybe. But at least I'm honest. Also, I'm not uncool. Ask my mom. Okay, moving on. If you are a diligent reader and have kept up with Tangent M from day one, you're already aware that the Backstreet Boys hold a special place in my heart. And by special, I mean a place above any heartthrob who has ever held a spot as my crush, including Devon Sawa, Edward Cullen, and Alex Hau. Alex Hau was my number one crush from 5th grade until 7th grade. He's real. He's not a B-list celebrity or a teenage vampire (at least I don't think he is). He's also German, which adds nothing to this story. If he's like me and googles himself from time to time then he's in for a fun surprise when this post pops up. Surprise, Alex! We're facebook friends though, and my crush on him faded after I left Christ the King elementary school and went to Marist in the 8th grade (at which point I discovered senior football players who were older, cuter, but also did not know I existed). Even if Alex is vain and googles himself, I can't see it being that awkward if he reads this. Flattering, at most. Probably creepy more than anything. Whatever. It's not like he didn't know I had a crush on him back then. I wasn't very good about keeping my mouth shut about it. And I'm sure staring at him from across the room every day for 2 years wasn't a clue. Right. I used to try and like the things he liked. Even though I didn't. For example, due to him I own a neon green canister full of pogs and one glow-in-the-dark slammer. How do you even play pogs? That was something I failed to find out back then. It didn't matter. He never "asked me out". Because in middle school the proper way to make someone your girlfriend is by asking them out, even though you are without a driver's license and a vehicle in which to go out. But it was still protocol. No disrespect to Alex, but this tangent is not about him. This tangent is about The Backstreet Boys. You probably think I'm the only one who still likes them. False. If that were true I probably could've gotten front row seats at the mini concert I went to a few weekends ago in Charlotte. And by concert I mean an outdoor Halloween party put on by a bar and local radio station in a parking lot. Whatever. There was a stage so I'm calling it a concert. On the way up to Charlotte my friend Beth (who also loves BSB with all of her heart and soul) and I began to make fun of our favorite band for having many songs that sound so similar. Strike that. We weren't making fun, we were just commenting while laughing almost to the point of urinating. You know how that goes. Between you and me though, I felt a little bit guilty for doing so. I was under the impression that I was the only one who still fought for BSB and believed in them (because I do and always will). I was wrong. Unless, however, those skanks were there solely for the Halloween party. People enjoy dressing up. Especially skanks. Because for a night they aren't skanks. They're interesting things like bunnies and kittens and other critters that can somehow be transformed into whorish costumes. I don't have a problem with the way anyone dresses. Honestly. It's up to you how you clothe (or don't clothe) yourself. And if you have a banging body, more power to you. My problem with skanky Halloween costumes is their lack of creativity. Also, October usually proves to be a very cold month in many places so it's hard for me to comprehend how a leotard and fishnets keep these girls warm. I saw a lot of skanks at that concert. A lot. And also, if you don't have the body to wear a skanky critter costume then don't. Because now you're skanky and fat and probably freezing your extremely large ass off. I saw a lot of fat skanky Dorothys that night. There must have been a lot of XLs left on the rack. Believe me, I'm not one to harp on anyone's size. I need to lose more than a couple LBs myself; however, I did not subject myself to mockery by wearing a loin cloth that night and calling it a costume so I feel obligated to put in my two cents about those who did. I chose to wear my tried and true devilled egg costume. I've had it since junior year of high school, and I love it. It's comfortable, I can wear anything under it, and it covers my large ass. It's also a pretty freaking cute costume. Poor Beth tried to be an 80s girl but ended up looking more like an 80s hooker. She's not fat and her costume didn't have ears, so she doesn't fall under that category I mentioned earlier. That's a picture of us at the top. It was a fun night. Like I've mentioned twice already, there are way more BSB fans out there than I thought. (I'm still convinced I'm the biggest.) What's funny about it now is that the fans are all grown up. Sort of. I guess by still being fans we haven't grown up that much. In age we have though. We're all able to drink now. And we don't have to have our parents accompany us to concerts anymore (which I'm sure they're thankful about). Before BSB graced the stage with their pretty little faces, a Michael Jackson cover band played for entirely too long. I'm not saying Who's Bad wasn't great, but when you have hundreds of screaming boy band fans you're not who they're there to see. I shouldn't have drank so much because towards the end of Who's Bad's set list I had to pee. Like real bad. I thought I was going to have to pee my pants (which would have been possible considering how big the egg is), but I took the risk and made a mad dash to the porter potties. That took way too long, and I did the pee dance in front of everyone in the line. You know, when you cross your legs and hold it and sing to yourself while swaying awkwardly in hopes the urine will somehow magically disappear from your bladder. I even prayed. Yes, seriously. It was a dire situation, and I needed God to make it happen so I could run, pee, and get back to my pretty good spot to see the loves of my life. It happened. Once I went to the bathroom I raced my eggy body back to the enormous crowd of hormonal females and tried to push my way back to where my friends were. No one was happy about that. I got called a bitch for doing so because people thought I was lying about needing to get to my friends. Understandably so. I saw that stunt pulled many a times that night. I made it though. And when BSB came on I was like a drunken 12 year old who had nothing to worry about in the world. My digital camera sucks so the pictures didn't turn out too great, but I did capture some videos and will include one (or three) at the end of this tangent. When I got home that Sunday I showed my boyfriend the videos and he was speechless that grown women were screaming like little girls over, yes, the Backstreet Boys. It just goes to show that some things never get old (well, okay, the Backstreet Boys are pretty old) but you get what I mean. I'm off to do work. Hopefully it won't be so long until we meet again. Also, you might want to turn the volume down a smidge. The screaming is intense.

one.


two.


three.


Is your heart beating as fast as mine? Okay. I'm out.

Peace. Love. I'll always want it that way.