So there I was: driving down the road in my mini-van, two car seats and a double stroller in the back. A song came on the radio that I thought was pretty good. I was jamming along, thinking, “Hmm. I wonder who this is. It kind of sounds like Ashlee Simpson. I’m not a big Ashlee Simpson fan, but I’m kind of digging this.”
Then the title and artist of the song flashed across my radio screen, and I cringed. It wasn’t Ashlee Simpson. It was far worse. It was… Miley Cyrus. As in “Hannah Montana” Miley Cyrus. As in daughter of “Achy Breaky Heart”‘s Billy Ray Cyrus. (Cringe)
I called my best friend Charlie to admit this horror of horrors. In anguish, I reluctantly confessed to him that I was not the same woman and “cool chick” he had met more than ten years ago. This apparently was not a news flash to him, because he laughed his *ss off. He joked, “No more Dead shows or Dave Matthews concerts for you, huh?” Ouch. He didn’t even know how close to home this hit. Now I had to admit to him that I had heard on the radio earlier in the day that the Dave Matthews Band is coming to Indy in July. Instead of thinking, “Awesome. I wonder when tickets go on sale!” the first thing that popped in my head was, “Ugh. July. It will be really hot. I think I’ll skip that one.”
What the hell happened to me!?