Dear friends/readers/whoever is out there listening: Justin Bieber (who I like to now call Bite Sized Nugget) is one fellow that will not die alone. I noticed this on a (not so leisurely) stroll through the Target Center in Minnesota, in hopes Justin Bieber would find ‘one less lonely girl’ in my totally-in-love little sister.
Yep. I attended a Justin Bieber concert.
Go ahead and pity me if you please, sympathize for me, laugh at me, it’s your call. But I had a great time. Going into the extravaganza, I was feeling a little old. Suddenly, my boobs felt ten times bigger and my purse was bumping into every teeny tween as they looked up at me from under their bedazzled Limited Too hats like I had stolen their Spongebob fanny pack. I was suffocating in a world of adolescents.
Let me explain to you the scene. Besides the thousands upon thousands of tweenie boppers, I would love to have received the actual number of man-count at this concert. The only dudes I saw were young boys that had yet to peak their heads from the closet and dads drinking too much beer. Seriously, one dad had his beer in one hand and in his other hand? A possessed fist-pumping man-clench. The girls however, looked like they spent more years in the mirror than they had lived; self-constructed corn rows, glitter, zebra leggings – you name it, they had it. I do believe every young girl there actually believed Justin Bieber was going to be their first lay…while he sang ‘One Time’ to them and thrusted a bushel of roses in their arms.
After spending my first born child ($35) on a black shirt with a sticky JBeebs printed face-shot for my eager sis, we moved on to our seats. She was gnawing at the bit to catch a glimpse of the Beebs and, quite honestly, so was I. Was he really a little munchkin? Did he look like Peter Pan? How shiny are his locks? I can’t even begin to explain the mayhem. Dudes were selling cotton candy and I begged them to stop. The kiddies were already jacked up on pure and passionate Beebs-love – they didn’t need a sugar rush, too! God help us all.
The minute the lights went down, I thought someone was slicing my head in half via squealing children. I thought the building was collapsing. I thought God had ascended from the ceiling of the Target Center, to bless a winning season on the Timberwolves…
But no. Not quite. God, (in bowl cut form) appeared behind a massive fog machine. My sister started bawling, I took a picture of her against her will and then gawked at the little man child on stage. 5′ 3′ and taking over the world.
But seriously, I’m here to tell you: Usher has taught him well. The little nugget has quite the suave production going on. He asked the crowd of tear stained faces (before singing ‘Baby’): “Which one of you wants to be my baby?” My eardrums almost collapsed (can they do that?) as thousands of girls imagined having his babies mid-scream.
And at one point during the show, he sat in a metal heart shaped object, which allowed him to float above a herd of screaming tweens. He played his guitar and during the end of the song, made a heart shape with his pointer fingers and thumb at his die-hards, sending many to the moon and back.
That’s why I decided the boy will never die alone. He his entire age group in woman (and men) lined up around the world for him. And you can tell he is a genuine little dude. So cute with his skinny little boy arms, I could pinch his cheeks off. His face cheeks.
So there is my story. The story of my quest into the depths of a tween stampede we know as Justin Bieber. And contrary to what I expected, I didn’t need a mouth-guard or knee-pads to make it through. I survived. And even more, I sorta caught the fever.
I need to find me a jumbo-sized adult JBeebs. Pronto.