Oh No I Didn't!

The back of an angel.  (photo by me!)

So, 2 years ago, I was lucky enough to be invited to see Josh Groban in concert with my friend, Emma, and her mom. Dude, I love Josh Groban. He's probably the most "adult" singer that I listen to because I'm normally not into music that doesn't have some curve of angst in it (because it's totally not like I don't already have enough angst as it is). Anyway, when I found out that I was going to be seeing him I was like freaking out and preparing my acceptance speech to the spontaneous marriage proposal he would pull out of his pocket during the concert if our eyes should meet for a brief moment. Yeah, that is how much I love Josh Groban. Then again, who doesn't love Josh Groban? I mean, he totally kicks major ass in everything he does. You could probably say he really knows how to... RAISE things up. (Get it? Like, You Raise Me Up...like the song. Nevermind)

Okay. Back to my story. Damn. I'm ADHD right now.

So, we get to the BOK Center in Tulsa, and that's when I find out that we have freaking floor seats. Just FYI, in my adult life I have never ever ever had real floor seats to any concert, so this was a huge deal to me. Because everyone knows that most performers will travel through the crowd on the floor at some point during the show and that gives anyone an opportunity to touch the person they've just paid a ridiculous amount of money to see in concert. Then, when we were situated in our seats, suddenly something rather close to me and amazing caught my eye. 

It was a smaller stage. With a piano on it. A Groban-sized piano. 

So, I immediately turned to Emma. 

Me: Girl, what is that over there?

Her: What?

Me: That thing 10 feet away from us right now. 

Her: Oh my gosh.

Me: You don't think he'll be right there, do you?

Her: Oh my gosh. 

Me: *internally dies from the potential closeness of Josh Groban*

Her: Oh my gosh. 

So, then I just sat there totally flipping my shit because Joshua Winslow Groban might be super close to me any moment from then. And then his opening act came out. And that was alright. I don't remember much of that because of the amazing piano stage that was 10 feet to my left. Yes. It was like being at a funeral and having no choice but to think about the rotting corpse in the box in front of you. (Yes, I did just compare a lifeless body to a piano. Deal with it)

And then it happened. He came out. And began the show. On the piano. 10 feet from my body. 

I melted. 

He did his thing and I continued to melt onto the floor beneath me. His smooth vocals, piano-playing that could make miracles happen, and perfectly styled hair were flawless. The whole crowd was silent for lots of the show because we were all mesmerized by this God-like presence before us. I'd never been to a concert where the crowd wasn't 98% screaming teenage girls or drunk neanderthals, so this was a new concept to my mind. I loved it. 

My favorite thing about concerts are the stories that the performer(s) will tell during the show. Josh, thank the high Heavens above, did this at my concert. He talked about how he'd seen that Tulsa was having it's annual Mayfest (which the cute little idiot called May Fair... but I'll let it slide this time) and some other stuff. Then he told a story about how someone had made a tweet about how he wouldn't be caught dead at a Josh Groban concert. 

Unf. (photo by me!)

Now, what happened next can't be explained. 

Me: OH NO HE DI-DN'T!

Josh: *turns in my direction*

Josh: That's right! "Oh no, he di-dn't!"

Instantly, Emma's mom had her hands on my shoulders and she was saying that I'd talked to Josh. 

And I had.

I had spoken to Josh Groban. 

Truthfully, I didn't think he'd hear my yell because I'm just so used to not being heard, but he did. He acknowledged that my vocal cords had produced a sound that his ears understood. It was amazing. 

So, you see, I might just say things spontaneously sometimes, but sometimes that unflattering habit of mine can perform pop-opera miracles of the Josh Groban variety. So, anyone who says I need to keep my mouth shut can suck my big, fat one, okay? Because I know they haven't talked to Josh freaking Groban. 

The Julia Diaries

You could scrub a toilet with that hair!

So, my 15 year-old sister, Julia, is kind of a character of sorts. She's this weirdo who is obsessed with Broadway musicals and writing fanfiction about Wicked (the musical, not the book) and making Internet friends in Australia and in the states that no one cares about (Alaska? Really?). She has a social anxiety disorder, so she never leaves the house unless it is to walk to a gas station to buy a 32 oz fountain drink or a Red Bull. She has this totally weird obsession with caffeine and Hot Cheetos. Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually related to her. But, somehow, we're always getting into the weirdest situations when we're together.

Back in July of 2012, she and I took a trip to New York City for a few days with our aunt. On the way there, we had a connecting flight in Memphis, Tennessee. So, Julia and I are totally awkward in public, so we're standing by a wall in the airport when suddenly we decide to have a totally way-too-inappropriate moment with each other. I don't know exactly what we were doing... Maybe just dancing? She was singing a sexual song, I think. Something about doing a little bump and grind, maybe? Then, suddenly, this guy who we swore was Jesus Christ walks by and gives us a look. Then he says the coolest thing we had ever heard: "You do what you got to do." I'm pretty sure we lost our shit at that. Also, this guy was on our flight to NYC, so we were unsure if that was a good or bad omen for the flight.

Julia and her all-time favorite novel

Oh and then there was the time I came home while the Tulsa State Fair was in town. I'd abandoned her that day because red shoes needed to be bought, so I tried to make it up to her by somehow convincing my best friend buy her a Coke and Rolos. So, we get back to my house, and we're standing out by the curb and trying to get her to come to get her goodies. After like half an hour of trying to persuade her, she finally comes out. Everything is cool but then.... things got a little ghetto.

This car (probably one of those cars with extra speakers in the trunk and a hydraulics system installed) filled with really suspicious-looking African-American gentleman pulls up next to us. We're kind of blocking part of the street at this point, but my best friend is like a millimeter away from this car passing, and he has no intention of moving his feet out of the way.

Best friend: *makes somewhat uncalled for comment about car of thugs passing by*
Ghetto thug car: *backs that thang up*
Ghetto thug car driver: Huh? What you say? We straight?
Julia and me: YES!!! WE STRAIGHT! WE ARE TOTALLY STRAIGHT!!
Ghetto thug car: *continues on down the road*

It's safe to say that that is the moment Julia and realized how straight we truly were. 

Did someone say "mustache?"

The coolest thing about Julia that can't be explained? Her instant popularity with all my friends at college. I'm still SO confused as to why these 20 year-old's think she is like the coolest person who ever lived. They think she's hilarious because she has the whole "I don't give a shit. L'chaim!" thing about her that kind of makes everyone want in on her secret club (that, let's face it, I'm the only member of). They see her interests and addictions and are just blown away by how rounded she is.

Maybe it's the way she cries at Robin Williams movies or the way she can belt out all the words to all the songs in Les Miserables. Maybe it's how she went to high school for one day and decided she was never going back (sounds like one of Taylor Swift's relationships!). Maybe it's the way she can comeback with the best lines in an argument. I don't know.

Julia might be a total weirdo who doesn't leave the house but manages to talk to strange Alaskans on the Internet, but she's still pretty cool. She's got big dreams and no ambition, but I know that she'll one day use all her quirks and unorthodox habits to become whatever she decides to be when the time comes. There's just something about Julia..... and I don't think anyone can really put a finger on it.