When I was in junior high (sometime in 1987 or '88), a concert came to town that I really wanted to see. My mom and dad said no. The next day, every single person at school (or, maybe, like, three people, but it seemed like everyone) showed up wearing t-shirts from the concert and talking about how freaking awesome it was.
I have been bitter for 22 years.
But I am bitter no more! I say, HA, HA, MOM AND DAD!!! YOU CAN'T STOP ME NOW, MOM AND DAD!! I'M GOING TO BE UP PAST MY BEDTIME AND EVERYTHING! I have a ticket to see:
That's right. Bon Jovi. It's not until March, so I'm still a little scared my parents will find a way to stop me.
When WCK found out I was going to a concert, she announced that she really wanted to go, too. Like the generation before me, I had to tell her no. She cried. Then Jay said, "Oh, it's just a very old man singing. Do you want to go see a very old man singing?"
"Oh," WCK said, no longer crying. "Not really."
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