So today is the day.
I am off to Montreal with my sister, cousins and brother's girlfriend to go see NKOTBSB in concert.
And cue screams of delight.
The 18-year old girl in me is very, very excited. She's making me go to this concert. Forcing me really. The 18-year old girl in me gets all full of serious attitude and becomes unbearably bitchy when she doesn't get her way.
So really I had no other choice.
So to make sure I make the most of this 'boy band walk down memory lane adventure' I have come up with a plan. Because coming up with a plan is what music loving 38-year women do.
My plan is to A: somehow sneak backstage B: pinch Donnie Wahlberg's ass and C: not get arrested, thrown in jail or have a restraining order issued to me on behalf of the NKOTBSB management
Sounds foolproof right? Right? Right?
Plus I need to get a photo with the NKOTB boys....especially the bad boy Donnie Wahlberg (back off ladies he's mine....I love him I do) if only to make up for the traumatic experience that I suffered courtesy of my father.
The closest I ever got to 'meeting' NKOTB was when I was in high school. New Kids played a show at Landsdowne Park and after the concert we went all special OPs/cloak and dagger to find the NKOTB tour bus. We found it. But unbeknownst to us, the boys had already left in a limo immediately after they left the stage.
Instead, their manager at the time, Maurice Starr came out of the bus and told us that the boys would have loved to have signed our t-shirts, but sadly were already on an airplane to their next show. So Mr. Starr thanked us for being such huge fans, shook our hands and signed our concert t-shirts.
Hey, a girl is going to take what she can get. Even if it's Maurice Starr's autograph.
I held on to that t-shirt for years. It was one of my prized possessions. And that's when the happy story turns sad and traumatic.
My dad found my t-shirt in the laundry hamper one day and decided upon himself that the t-shirt was too worn out to be worn in public and therefore not worth saving and proceeded to cut it in strips to hold up his beloved tomato plants in his 'giardino'.
And cue the ear splitting screams of horror when I returned home from school and discovered the t-shirt massacre. Yes these are the injustices I had to suffer as the first born daughter of Italian immigrant parents.
The story concludes with my dad announcing that I was crazy and threatening to send me back to the old country to get my head straightened out.
A plot compelling for a TV movie of the week, I know.
So see, I have to get myself backstage. I just do damn it. I have to resolve these apparent unresolved issues of my youth!
So while I work out the details to my 'operation NKOTBSB backstage' how about some boy band videos...I mean it is a walk down memory lane after all.
And for the record I do believe I still have all the dance moves to the 'You Got It (The Right Stuff) video.