In Which Backstreet’s Back, Alright & I’m A 14 Year Old Teeny Bopper Again

So, I just got back from the Backstreet Boys concert at the Warfield and I know, you are either jealous or you want to judge me. If you want to judge me, then sh sh sh, bye bye. None of that here. Because, THE BACKSTREET BOYS ARE THE SHIT. Don’t even lie that when “Everybody” comes on, you’re not going to scream at the top of your lungs, “BACKSTREET’S BACK, ALRIGHT!” If you don’t want to scream that at the top of your lungs, then I don’t know what you’re doing reading my blog. Or existing, for that matter. You judge me for liking BSB? I JUDGE YOU FOR NOT.

JUDGY JUDGES AT YOU, BSB HATER.

For real though. My best friend of like 14 years, Jessica and I used to squeal like schoolgirls over the Backstreet Boys. And *NSYNC because, I mean, *NSYNC is for life, but they aren’t together anymore, so BSB comes in a very, VERY close second. So, when Jessica heard they were playing tonight, she called me this morning an obscene amount of times before I finally decided to pick up. Then, she’s all, “JAMIE TELL ME YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY PLANS TONIGHT!” She was like, out of breath. Calm, woman. Calm.

“Uh… no plans?”

“OKAY GOOD BECAUSE I BOUGHT YOU A BACKSTREET BOYS TICKET AS A LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT!”

[inaudible noises]

So, firstly, I downloaded every Backstreet Boy song I didn’t already have and I played all their albums on shuffle the entire day and got so pumped that I thought I would fall over from excitement. Yes, I realize I sound insane. And yes, I understand if this changes your entire view of me. BUT THE BACKSTREET BOYS ARE A PART OF ME, PEOPLE. A PART!

Plus, THEY ARE ALL SO HOT. Like, when I was a wee little one, I had no idea what to do with boys, so my crushes on the likes of Justin Timberlake and Nick Carter (AKA, SWOON) were sort of, I don’t know, harmless? But now. OH NOW. I know what I can do with Nick’s parts and what Nick’s parts could do to me and BACKSTREET COULD BE BACK, IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. WINK WINK NUDGE NUDGE.

And, so we went. And it was pure glory. I sang at the top of my lungs to all my favorite songs and, halfway through, Jessica remarked that “we’re going to tell our kids about this!” To which I responded, “YES!” which is funny because I don’t even know if I want kids, but I kind of want kids just to be able to tell them stories about when I went to that Backstreet Boys concert. And they’ll be all, “Backstreet Boys!? Yeah, I totally heard them on the oldies station, mom!” Except it will be the future and there won’t be radio stations; it will be called something else.

But I’m not from the future, so I don’t know what it will be called yet. Probably something like, “I heard them on the oldies station IN MY BRAIN.” Because, in the future, there will be microchips installed in our children’s brains which will act as iPods so we don’t have to waste all our goddamn money on Apple products, especially since those bastards always seem to put out some new and hot upgrade of THE PRODUCT I JUST BOUGHT A MONTH EARLIER.

Like, fuck off iPhone 4. I JUST BOUGHT THE iPHONE 3GS! And, I realize I was behind on that technology, BUT GIVE ME A BREAK, APPLE. I’m trying to keep up. By the time I have enough money to buy your hot new product, it’s already a year old and I end up getting blindsided by THE NEW RELEASE. It’s like I keep finally getting the hottest boyfriend ever only to be totally screwed over because SOMEONE HOTTER COMES ALONG THAT I CAN’T HAVE BECAUSE I ALREADY HAVE A BOYFRIEND.

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Deep breaths, Jamie.

Okay, hi, I’m back.

At this point, I’m going to leave you with a video I took on my shitty, antique iPhone 3GS at the BSB concert. It’s a video of the song “More Than That” which you’ll start singing involuntarily and you’ll go, “How the flying hell do I remember these lyrics?” I did the same thing. I was all, “I can’t tell you when the what World War I ended, but OH CAN I SING EVERY LYRIC TO EVERY BACKSTREET BOYS SONG. RESPECT, PEOPLE. RESPECT.” Now that’s what I call priorities.

Update: I just watched and listened to this video and it’s horrid. Like, that’s the worst audio I’ve ever heard. It sounds like they are screaming. Which they kind of were, but I didn’t notice because I was all, “NICK TAKE MY BRA TAKE ME HAVE MY BABIES I LOVE YOU FOREVER!”

And, on that note, would you please excuse me? I have some dignity I seemed to have misplaced.

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