Do I have a story for you.
You all know I’ve got a big thing for C Breezy. I’ve professed my love for Chris Brown multiple times.
If I’m not sashaying over to the D.J. to tell him to play “anything Ke$ha,” I’m requesting a Chris Brown song. Musically speaking, the guy can do no wrong.
And this Sunday night, something like this might happen:
I’ll set the scene.
I’m driving home to Virginia Beach when I hear on one of my favorite radio stations, HOT 100.5, announce they’re giving away Chris Brown concert tickets. After some research, I realize the concert’s taking place right by my house next Sunday, but I kind of write off the contest since I don’t plan on still being in the car at 8 p.m.
While I run some errands on the way home, I text Lisa-Marie and Jamie asking if they’d be interested in checking out how much tickets were, but no one has much enthusiasm for dropping a ton of money on a lawn seat for a Sunday night concert.
I finish up my errands, head toward home, and hear a D.J. announce the ticket giveaway again.
Say whaaat? Is it already 8:00?
Around these parts, we call her “my angel.”
She just gave a whole new meaning to the saying, “Go D.J., that’s mah D.J.”
Anyway, at this point, I’m sitting in my driveway, engine running, Chloe in the backseat wondering why I’ve gone nutso and feel like chillin’ in the car.
Accepting the challenge, I Google my little heart out from my trusty Blackberry Curve (with whom I’m currently having my final fling… hello iPhone, October 5).
The first Google result told me that it was just announced Queen’s We Are The Champions is the catchiest song of all time (they probably earned that title with that nice unitard Freddie Mercury’s sporting in the music video).
SO. I called.
And I called. And I called. After about 5 tries, the line went from busy to ringing.
Since I can’t sit still (ever), I started unloading my car, feeding Chloe, and unpacking as I let the phone ring for about 3 whole minutes. I was getting ready to hang up, thinking my chances were pretty slim.
Suddenly, it stops. And I hear, “Hello?”
I paused, my hand halfway into the dog food. “He- …hello?”
Geez… you’d think they’d brief me first, right? Honestly, I was so confused, my brain went all play doh on me.
“Um. I’m calling for the Chris Brown tickets?”
“Can you tell me the catchiest song of all time?”
“Is it Queen’s ‘We Are The Champions?'”
“YES!!! YOU JUST WON CHRIS BROWN TICKETS!! YOU ARE THE CHAMPION!”
The confetti is falling from my ceiling. I’m spinning in circles with my arms out. I’m doing splits in the air. I’m live on the radio saying “OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHILOVECHRISBROWNI’MSOEXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!“
And that’s how I’m going to see Chris Brown VIP status next Sunday night fo free.
Right when I called my mom, she asked how many tickets I get. And what row my seats are. And where I go to pick up the tickets when they call me to come get them.
Really, like I’m clear-headed enough to find out the answers to any of those details. Psh.
All that matters is my quickly approaching future with the “country boy from Tappahannock (VA is where I reside, so shawty understand it).”
Everyone’s been telling me I should wear some protective padding when I get to be so close to him, but we all know I’d be more than willing to sport a bruise as long as I can tell people it came from Chris Brown.