Guilty Pleasures

Over a delicious breakfast with my high school Sunday School teacher, I admitted some fall concert plans. Marie literally put down her fork to take it all in. "Really? Hanson?" I took a deep breath and said yes, Hanson, my adolescent love. She thought for a moment and said, "you know, if Donny Osmond came within 300 miles here on tour, I'd be first in line to get those tickets, even though I know he's horrible. So go for it - and ENJOY IT."

I finally bought my tickets today and words cannot express how freakin' excited I am about this. I know, it's ridiculous and juvenile and quite possibly a colossal waste of money. But I care not. This was middle school soundtrack, a fixture of my youth and against my better judgement, I am still completely psyched to Mmmbop along with them all night long.

I contemplated writing up a (semi-nonbiased) review of their last two albums. Maybe if I could plead my case, show how they have grown up, expanded their sound, matured, etc, the innerwebs wouldn't judge me as harshly for my indulgence in 90's pop music. In the end, I thought better of that - it is probably pointless. For most people Hanson is to Mmmbop like, for me, Jack Nicholson is to the Joker. Some connections can never be broken.

So instead, I present to you a new song to enjoy, a la the Chipmunks. And now, just Get Up and Go.

From a Me to a We

I headed home last week, eager for some time off, armed with some fun news, and just a tad (ok quite a bit more than a tad) reluctant to be gone at this exact moment. I should say something grown up and professional, such as it's my uber busy career in finance giving me the hesitation to be gone for a while, but really it was something so much more fun than that.

A few select people knew my news in advance, but I was a little apprehensive to say anything to the parental units because that makes it so...real. A name. With the adjective 'boyfriend' in front of it. Big. Screaming. Deal.

My first morning at home, mom and I were wandering around downtown on search of post cards. I found one that was just right and got in line to buy it. My mom looked at me and said, "A postcard? Only one?" 'Yes, mother. One postcard.' "Well...whooooo...are...yousendingitto?"

I could have made something up, said Jen or Jess or anyone, but at the moment I realized I was ready for it to be real. I took a deep breath and said 'it's for my boyfriend, mom - Westley.'

My mother is one of the most prim and proper women you will ever meet - she could put Emily Post to shame. But at that moment, she could not hold it in - her emotion, for one of the first times in my presence, got the best of her and she started jumping up and down.

I suppose I could write a novel about how utterly embarrassing and horrifying it was to watch my 50+ year old mother act like the 3 year old finding the perfect toy in the cereal box but instead I smiled and laughed at my ridiculously cute mom finding joy in my crazy mixed up life. And when it came down to it, I couldn't find any fault in her response - I've been jumping up and down on the inside for quite some time now.

It's an amazing moment, to go from a me to a we. It's a small accomplishment, really, to say on a Monday "we just saw the most amazing show" instead of "I went to see a great band" but somehow that one little word changes the story completely. It's a fun place to be right now, in the early stages and its so wonderful to know, resolutely and definitively, that he's enjoying this crazy ride as much as I.

Speaking of a great show, WOW. Pretty much amazing. Obviously the company played a huge part in the enjoyment but the breathtaking skill of Dr. Lonnie Smith only further highlighted how amazing the guy sitting next to me is. Turns out Westley's not a huge jazz fan like me but had the foresight to pick this show, knowing I would enjoy it, in the amazing Blues Alley venue, starting off one of the best weekends of record in my world. I could keep going, but the gushing needs to be kept to a minimum. I don't want anyone to vomit on their keyboards and send me bills.

In short, my cheeks hurt from the smiling, my heart is light as a feather, and I'm as corny as Kansas in August. Dr. Smith's rendition of "Someday My Prince Will Come" just came on. Let's change that to did. La vita è bella.

Now I Understand Why Daddy Blocked MTV...

Last weekend was Projekt Revolution Tour Weekend. I do not have a single picture that does it justice. Enjoy my blurry taken-whlie-jumping-up-and-down pictures from my camera phone. You are welcome.

Linkin Park was awesome -- no surprise there. The one song I wanted to hear (One Step Closer) they played right at the end. I did momma proud; not only was I shakin' it and screaming right along with everyone else, but I totally took out the massive guy next to me with my not-so-straight-up-and-down jumping. He probably thought I was seizing or something...no no this is just Kate having a good time.

But I digress... the Big WooptyWho was a very saucy man named Chris Cornell. This is a better representation of what I saw on stage...the picture to the right is all I came away with...except the memories. Sweet, sweet, sweaty memories.
Mmm...wait what? Where am I? Oh yes.

When my family first moved to Michigan, my dad signed us up for cable. Awesome. We hadn't ever had full cable before and now, a solid 50-60 channels were at our disposal, keeping us in doors and up late every day of the year. Who missed the swimming pool when suddenly we had TBS and TNT and holy crap there's a channel all about food???

There was also a little channel called MTV. This channel didn't go over well when mom caught us watching something called 'reality tv' and a show called 'The Real World' which as far as we could tell had nothing to do with the real world and everything to do with Pedro just wanting love and not to die of AIDS. Mom didn't like us watching this but one show wasn't enough to pay the cable guy to come allllllllll the way back out to do anything about it.

Then, a little program playing 'music videos' started showing a band called Sound Garden. The band's new hit, "Black Hole Sun" was on hourly rotation for weeks. Dad saw this one time and before all the faces had finished melting, the cable guy had been summoned to our house to block MTV once and for all. After realizing Chris Cornell = Audioslave and also Chris Cornell = Sound Garden, I agreed to go to this concert just to hear "Black Hole Sun" one time.

Before Chris and crew even came on stage, they played the most beautiful string version of the song -- prompting me to think they weren't going to play it on stage since, duh, we all just heard it.

Oooooooh no. They played it. They played the crap out of it. It was amazing. It was unbeatable. It made the concert and pit ticket price completely worth it. After he finished his set, as he walked off the stage, a jazz version started playing as well. Seriously, a Chris Botti-esque version of "Black Hole Sun." 10 points for who ever can find these versions for me and send them asap.

I'm not sure if dad canceled MTV because of the video or maybe because he saw a glimpse of the man behind the baggy clothes and was worried about his three daughters lusting after this fine specimen of man (uh, yeah, my daughters won't be watching this either until they're much, much older) but I know I appreciated it a lot more now, seeing him live and in living color on stage. Or maybe it's because of what the song is actually about...oh yeah, that. Hmm. Good move, Dad.