Hottest Ticket in Town
Being the V.I.M.B. (Very Influential Mommy Blogger) that I have fooled people into thinking I am, I’ve been invited to attend a concert this weekend, which is being sponsored by American Eagle Outfitter’s new children’s clothing line, 77kids. It’s a private concert, for only 200 people, at a very small, intimate venue in Hollywood. Of course, me being a V.I.M.B. (as opposed to just a V.I.B.), and 77kids being a clothing line for, well, kids, the headliner is not, say, Coldplay, or The Killers, or any respectable band that I might listen to when my children have not hijacked the car radio. Instead, the concert, appropriately enough, features none other than The Jonas Brothers. That’s right, people. On Friday night, I am ditching my husband and going to see the Jonas Brothers, kings of Radio Disney, stars of Camp Rock, idols to millions of eight year-old girls. And I am going alone. Well, technically, I am not going alone. I am bringing the founder of Mommy Track’d along with me, because there is no way that I would go alone. But when I say I’m going alone, what I really mean is, I am not going with my children, who would, ostensibly, otherwise legitimize my presence at a Jonas Brothers concert. So, Mommytrack’d compadre or not, for all intents and purposes, I am going alone. To a Jonas Brothers concert.
The logistical issues that accompany this situation are many. For one thing, what does one wear when one is mid-thirtyish and attending a boy band concert without one’s children, and one does not want to be mistaken for a cougar, a groupie, or a pathetic old chick who is desperately attempting to cling to her youth? Number two, given that one has seen Camp Rock sixteen times and listens to Radio Disney incessantly in the car, does one sing along during a boy band concert when one is mid-thirtyish and unaccompanied by her children? And third, how heavily does one drink at dinner before attending a boy band concert without one’s children? In an effort to not have to deal with thinking about any of this beyond this blog post, I’m considering printing business cards that say, I am actually not a cougar, a groupie or a pathetic old chick who is desperately attempting to cling to her youth. Rather, I am, supposedly, a Very Influential Mommy Blogger with two children at home, and I am just plain pathetic, because this is the most exciting night out I’ve had in the last seven years, excluding that one night in Vegas when my son was conceived, and handing them out to anyone who even glances at me.