7 p.m. Saturday
Chesapeake Energy Arena
100 W. Reno
It wasn’t like talking on the phone for 15 minutes was going to lead to her remarking how I sounded sweet, then me coyly asking if she was seeing anybody, followed by her saying I should come hang out at one of her famous T-Parties after the show, during which she’d surely have dedicated one of her especially romantic songs (it probably would’ve been “You Belong with Me” or “I’m Only Me When I’m with You”) to the cute-voiced boy journalist she got to talk to the week before, wherever in the crowd he was.
Please, I’ve played this scenario out in my head at least as many times as I’ve watched “Valentine’s Day” (17) and the odds of it happening are just a skosh better than one in 15,000, according to my hopes and dreams.
Or is it because you fear falling in love with a mere commoner, one of competitively curly hair, pasty skin and circus-folk lineage? Because I’ll do whatever it takes to earn even a moment of your affections. I’ll dig through Kanye West’s and Taylor Lautner’s garbage until I find just what I need to implode both of their careers. I’ll do it sooner than you can say “Better Than Revenge.”
See you Saturday!
Photo by Hoangquan Hientrang