Beiber Fever

It's Saturday night, 11:13 pm and I've had approximately 4/5ths of a pitcher of strawberry daiquiris, lovingly prepared by my husband. We're watching Saturday Night Live, and the guest/musical talent tonight is Justin Beiber. This is probably a re-run, as we've just figured out while I've been writing this post. While I've heard many things about this kid, including a rumor via Facebook that he must be sacrificed to to appease the volcano gods, I've never heard him sing. I had my chance tonight.

Oh. My. God. Can I just tell you how much I would be head-over-heels-stupid in love with Justin Beiber? I'm talking posters up on my wall and his music video recorded on repeat on my video cassette a la BSB circa 1998. WOW.

I hope you've all seen the Justin Beiber girl - the 3 year old who was crying because she loves Justin Beiber so much. I get it now. He's captivating for toddlers adolescents who had their first loves and heartbreaks at 13. I. Can. So. Relate. To. That.

Hubs and I wish on 11:11, you know, because it's supposed to bring good luck and whatever. Anyway, 11:11 came during Justin Beiber's performance, and Sean told me that if I wished for Justin Beiber, he would wish for bad things for me. And let me tell you, it was so hard not to wish for that little boy.

I have a fever, and the only cure is orange high tops and a pseudo-bowl cut. Le sigh.