For Vic, Jenn and anyone else

around the age of 25-35 who became shriveled masses of shrieking joy when they saw this:



Hilarious. First of all, may I just say that they actually all look really good (as it was when I was eight, my god this was a long time ago, I still only have eyes for Joey. I could not take my eyes off him. Where did I put my scrunchie?!). Second, I was watching this morning (thanks for tivoing it, Vic. I am sincerely going to miss that fabulous aspect of having a roommate when I move to Chicago) and just could not stop laughing at how these women were SCREAMING. They're all roughly my age, a little older maybe, but the fact that we're all adults and have jobs and husbands and children has fully disappeared into 16 year old hysteria at the sight of Donny Walherg. These women brought their NKOTB buttons for God's sake. I don't even know what to say.

Donny just looked so relieved at the reception. As my sister pointed out on the phone this morning, you just know they were having serious misgivings behind that curtain. The same feeling you get in those fifteen minutes right before you throw a party that no one will come and you'll be stuck with four bottles of seltzer and cranberry juice, a reminder you'll have for months of what a friendless loser you are.

I mean, some of these guys have jobs by now- for serious jobs, the kinds of jobs that require conference calls and sales quarters and golf outings. Not to mention new kids of their own. The equivalent might be if my father disappeared into the city one day and instead of going to the office, my mother tells me oh, so casually that he was a member of Wham! back in the day and they were getting together for some limited appearances, some gyrating dance moves and bringing middle-aged women on stage to sing to them, maybe give them a rose. What?! How do you recover from that kind of shift in reality?

And how must these guys feel? I mean, you cannot look back at the NKOTB days and not cringe inwardly a little. Think about what it means to them- it's like when you did that talent show in middle school and at the time you thought you were a badass for dancing to Motown Philly with your girlfriends on stage in front of every single 11-12-13 year old peer but NOW, oh my god, you just never want to think about it ever again. And what if some producer approached you now, today, and goes, "Hey, we really loved your act- what do you think about bringing it on the road?" What? Are you kidding? And they throw you millions of dollars and hold up a chart of the Spice Girls 2008 tour revenue? There's really only one thing to do.

Motown Philly, back again.