my deepest gratitude, mr. poptart
September 1st, 2008 | Written by hurricanic
I loved you once as a regular part of my college late night study sessions. Oh, how your low-fat frosted blueberry goodness would energize me as I crammed for tests and rushed to finish projects. We parted ways years ago, as all-nighters ceased and metabolisms slowed. I remembered you fondly as I would walk past you in the grocery store, smiling kindly and moving on to Kashi’s GoLean Crunch.
My heart, however, returns to my love for you. This time not for your toasted awesomeness. This time because you brought the man destined to be my beloved back to K.C. You didn’t have to sponsor the American Idols Tour Live. No, no…you didn’t. But oh, how I thank you.
Sure, it was essentially two hours of karaoke, and expensive karaoke at that. Sure, I heard one too many people say cheesy, obnoxious things like, “I’m gonna slow it down a little bit now” or “This goes out to all the ladies in the crowd”. Sure, I was surrounded by teeny-bobbers and Cougars for Cook and a bunch of white trash who couldn’t get enough of Kristy Lee Cook’s sappy version of “I’m Proud to be an American” (who all, mind you, were quite annoyed when Jen screamed “O-Ba-Ma” at the top of her lungs at one of the dramatic pauses) and I don’t care what that has to say about me. But I still got to see the one and only David Cook. And I have the $25 press book being sold by vendors in the aisles to prove it.
I’ll also have you know that Jen and I both almost found ourselves being kicked out by security by completely ignoring their demands that we return to our seats when we tried to get as close to the stage as we could manage to get a good photo. As if we could, with the Sprint Center’s stupid rules about “no professional cameras allowed.” Stupid, Sprint Center. I would’ve had Jen hide the camera in her super hot high waisted jeans, but there wasn’t a whole lot of room, what with all that sass in there.
Good times, Eric and Jen. Good times.
I don’t know where to begin…