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IS this what they say? Because I think I just made that saying up. Besides, I have never been—and will never be—a groupie. But what I am—what I will proudly admit to under the cover of my sheets, blankets, and mounds of pillows—is a bona fide Justin Bieber fan.

Which pretty much discounts the entirety of my last blog, but whatever.

If you remember all the way back to four days ago, I wrote about my remorse/regret/dismay over buying Bieber tickets for Christmas and my dread/apprehension/fear of having to make good on the gift and attend the concert.

Well, scratch all that.

Y’all, that eighteen-year-old-boy puts on a great show. To call it impressive is to understate it. To call it fantastic doesn’t do it justice, either. I know I sound like I’m gushing…because that’s kinda what I’m doing. It wasn’t just the fact that the kid can play the guitar and play the piano and play the crap out of the drums. It wasn’t just the fact that he can sing pretty well and dance pretty well and run all over the stage and manage to do them all without lip synching. It was more than that. Here’s the best way I can explain it: I never saw Michael Jackson in concert. Always wanted to, never did. It’s one of my big regrets. That, and wearing one red and one purple Keds for three days straight in high school. So, so tacky, especially when I had orange Keds just sitting there in my closet. And everyone know orange goes waaay better with red. Anyway, the best way to describe this concert is to say that it was what I always imagined seeing a Michael Jackson concert would be like…except it starred Justin Bieber instead.

That probably makes no sense to most of you. But for me, that pretty much sums it up. From the production quality to the lights to the video clips to the short films shown throughout, it was an amazingly done show. If you have a chance, you ought to go see it. In fact, during the entire three-hour show, I came away with only one complaint:

I was not chosen as the “One Less Lonely Girl.”

I mean, really. Apparently there is some sort of age restriction that limits the girls chosen to age eighteen or less. This is so stupid. This is so isolating. This is…is…its AGEISM is what it is. As if girls that age are old enough to appreciate the significance of being brought onstage and sung to by America’s favorite singing sensation. I would have appreciated it. I would have been grateful. And it isn’t fair that with all the screaming I did…with all the shouts and whistles and throwing roses and other things on the stage…that Jon Bon Jovi didn’t—

Wait.

Who are we talking about?

(Clears throat and twirls hair) So, this is embarrassing. What I meant to say was that I sure wish my daughter had been chosen as the “One Less Lonely Girl.” But no matter. She wasn’t mad. No hard feelings. A fun time was had by all. Nothing to see here.

Moving on.

It looks like the flu may have made its first stop here at my house. In a couple hours, I’ll take my oldest son to the doctor to either confirm or not confirm it, but I’m betting on the former. So that blows.

On the brighter side, a friend of mine who shall remain nameless but who I shall be forever indebted to until we settle up over a plate of my (poorly baked) homemade cookies, sent me a little gift in my inbox on Saturday. Know what it was?

The entire third season of Downton Abbey.

I hit the television show jackpot. All because he has connections that I think are totally legal, and because I made a Facebook reference to the show. Which just goes to show that Facebook statuses are not all a pointless waste of time. Not even mine.

Gotta run. Got to get on Facebook and make plea for a million dollars. Plus free Bon Jovi tickets. History is going to repeat itself, but this time…

I’m totally going onstage.

Amy