If you do a search of "Jason Mraz" on my blog, you'll discover I've blogged about the man, um, more than once in the past two-and-a-half years. In fact, I stopped counting at 25.
You want to know why? BECAUSE I LOVE HIM. Every little song, every little CD, every little detail, every little time he says "damn" in "Plane."
I saw him in concert once in 2005. Magical would describe it, of course. It was the first and only time I've ever seen him live. He does not suck. Not even a little bit. My favorite concert to date.
If you could see me right now, you'd see me swooning.
:: swoooooon ::
So today, in a conversation with a friend, it came out that there are several concerts I need to witness before I die, in case I die, like, next year. Among the concerts are My Chemical Romance, Michael Jackson and Paramore. And, of course, Jason Mraz, again.
"You know he's coming to Chicago on Wednesday, right?" says Chicago-living friend.
OF COURSE I KNOW. I also know that tickets have been sold out for weeks.
He pish-poshed my sold-out notion, and said, "a concert is never sold out, I can get tickets."
That's when I peed my pants. And what I'm doing right now is continuing to pee my pants because HE GOT TICKETS. I am going to see Jason Mraz. Tomorrow. In Chicago.
Anyone who just spontaneously buys me a Jason Mraz concert ticket at three-minutes' notice deserves a gold medal. Real, shiny gold. And in between making out with Jason (we're on a first-name basis, of course) I might say thank you.
This is some sort of fantasy coming true. Last-minute, spontaneous Jason Mraz concert. I CANNOT EVEN BELIEVE IT.
AJ, Jason Mraz Partner-In-Crime, won't be with me this time, as she was last time, but she will be with me in spirit. And by "spirit," I mean, "more Jason for me."