I want to know why my (assumingly) post pubescent self has this major problem of being stuck in high school fangirl mode?
I'm really getting sick of my own reactions and mentalities. I mean it's like I'm stuck in "MY IDOL!!!!!!!!11!11!" mode all the fucking time, and it's really getting old.
The reason I talk about this is that my local radio station is having a contest, if you're the #th caller, you get entered into a drawing to get 2 tickets to see John Mayer and Maroon 5 in concert at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, plus 3 nights hotel stay, airfare, and tickets to a private acoustic concert with Mayer before hand.
I'm pissed off because I'm glued to the radio every morning, waiting for them to play either a John Mayer or Maroon 5 song so I can be the #th caller and get entered, on the slim hope of getting the tickets, even though I've never won a damn thing in my life, and I'd never be so lucky.
The thing is, every time a song is ending, and they're going to start a new song, my heart starts pumping, and my airway constricts, and it's like I'm fucking going to meet the man himself, when all I'm doing is waiting to call in to qualify to possibly win.
And all of this, because I want to meet him. Yes, I admit it, I'm such a fanwhore that I want to meet John Mayer and hang out with him. I guess it's because everything I've read about him reminds me of all of my friends, with the gaming, the rauncy jokes, the intelligence, and general coolness, all balled up into a guy who can play guitar like it's a natural extension of his body.
Yes, yes extension of his penis, I know the joke is coming, just leave it alone.
Is he hot? No. But is he mildly attractive? Yes. Is he cute? No. But does he have a vague attractiveness about him? Yes, but I blame the guitar. And the lankiness. I've always liked lankiness.
But I hate the fact that I can think this way. I'm rational about it, but there's still part of me that's going waaaaaaay overboard. It's hard to keep in mind the simple fact that I will never meet him, I will never speak to him, and about the only way he'll know I'm alive is if I kill myself or someone else in some spectacular and hideous way. Which is not really something I feel like doing right now. Because it's wrong. And a pain in the ass to plan. But still, there's that part of me squealing, "It'll happen! Really! Honestly and truly! He's so cool! Kakkoii desu!!!! *flutter*"
I hate myself some days.
I want someone to either say a)"Don't give up hope. It's doesn't hurt to dream a little.", b)"I know him, he's cool. Wanna meet him? I'll give him a call" or c)"... you're insane, you know that? Would you give it up already?"
I know, most of your are gonna say c.
I'm gonna go sniffle quietly in the corner.
I'm really getting sick of my own reactions and mentalities. I mean it's like I'm stuck in "MY IDOL!!!!!!!!11!11!" mode all the fucking time, and it's really getting old.
The reason I talk about this is that my local radio station is having a contest, if you're the #th caller, you get entered into a drawing to get 2 tickets to see John Mayer and Maroon 5 in concert at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas, plus 3 nights hotel stay, airfare, and tickets to a private acoustic concert with Mayer before hand.
I'm pissed off because I'm glued to the radio every morning, waiting for them to play either a John Mayer or Maroon 5 song so I can be the #th caller and get entered, on the slim hope of getting the tickets, even though I've never won a damn thing in my life, and I'd never be so lucky.
The thing is, every time a song is ending, and they're going to start a new song, my heart starts pumping, and my airway constricts, and it's like I'm fucking going to meet the man himself, when all I'm doing is waiting to call in to qualify to possibly win.
And all of this, because I want to meet him. Yes, I admit it, I'm such a fanwhore that I want to meet John Mayer and hang out with him. I guess it's because everything I've read about him reminds me of all of my friends, with the gaming, the rauncy jokes, the intelligence, and general coolness, all balled up into a guy who can play guitar like it's a natural extension of his body.
Yes, yes extension of his penis, I know the joke is coming, just leave it alone.
Is he hot? No. But is he mildly attractive? Yes. Is he cute? No. But does he have a vague attractiveness about him? Yes, but I blame the guitar. And the lankiness. I've always liked lankiness.
But I hate the fact that I can think this way. I'm rational about it, but there's still part of me that's going waaaaaaay overboard. It's hard to keep in mind the simple fact that I will never meet him, I will never speak to him, and about the only way he'll know I'm alive is if I kill myself or someone else in some spectacular and hideous way. Which is not really something I feel like doing right now. Because it's wrong. And a pain in the ass to plan. But still, there's that part of me squealing, "It'll happen! Really! Honestly and truly! He's so cool! Kakkoii desu!!!! *flutter*"
I hate myself some days.
I want someone to either say a)"Don't give up hope. It's doesn't hurt to dream a little.", b)"I know him, he's cool. Wanna meet him? I'll give him a call" or c)"... you're insane, you know that? Would you give it up already?"
I know, most of your are gonna say c.
I'm gonna go sniffle quietly in the corner.
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