Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Speaking of Fame...


Obviously, this photo is of the crowd of shrieking 12 year old girls who lined West 75th Street on Friday night, the police cars that escorted a black SUV down the street to the stage entrance to the Beacon theater, and Nick Jonas getting out of the SUV.

I passed by the mob scene on my way home from work and thought it was hilarious enough to stand around in the cold for a few minutes and repeatedly mumble, "Oh. My. God. It's the Jonas Brothers!" as other startled Upper West Siders made their ways home. The best part is that I didn't know it was Jonas-related, but decided that it had to be, given the situation. (I guess it could have been for Taylor Swift, but then maybe boys would also be there.) I was only partly right - the show was Nick sans Brothers.

Once upon a time, in a land far away, I was a 12 year old girl. The New Kids on the Block were the hotties of the moment. The female tweens would line up on cold streets and shriek for their heartthrobs, but I didn't really get it back then, and I still don't today. This weekend, Dr. P and I discussed our wonderment at the crazed desire that girls threw toward Elvis. (We saw a clip of an Elvis flick on TV and she commented that he was sort of chubby, even before he was Fat Elvis.) Maybe if I was a youth when the Beatles first journeyed across the ocean would I feel compelled to participate in such behavior. I'm such a dork.

3 comments:

  1. You are so not up with the teeny bopper world:) It's Nick Jonas and the Administration. Also, Elvis was NOT chubby by any stretch of the imagination in clips that I've seen of him recently. Finally, clearly you forget loitering on the bleachers along Central Park near Columbus Circle near the Trump Towers waiting for a glimpse of Lance Bass at 25 or so:)

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  2. I had no desire to act in this way as a pre-teen or teen - I was "too mature" and "too intelligent." I thought girls who acted that way over silly bands were stupid. So it is with great embarrassment that I admit to CRYING - shedding actual TEARS - when Steven Page sang TO ME at one of the 20+ Barenaked Ladies shows I went to. I was 34 years old...

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  3. Elvis had some baby fat on him. He was cute, though, as were the Beatles! And I get the excitement of being sung to. That's awesome!

    Sitting on a cold metal riser outside the Trump Hotel waiting for Lance Bass on a chilly November night was a great time, no doubt. But it wasn't so that we could shriek! It was because we were old weirdos who found it funny to try and stalk a boy band.

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