This Is What Happens When You Take Your Seven-Year-Old To A Debbie Gibson Concert

The earliest music I recall being enamored with, that my parents were NOT  partial to, was, well, *cough*Debbie Gibson*cough.*

Come on, what's not to like?!

In fact, I was so smitten with Debbie Gibson, that one summer, when given a choice between going to a Debbie Gibson concert or going to a Six Flags theme park, my sister and I both enthusiastically squealed, “DEBBIE GIBSON!!!!!111!!!!!”

Hell, Debbie Gibson was the only reason I subscribed to Tiger Beat magazine.  Do they even make that anymore?  If both Coreys were still alive, they probably would.  You have to keep current on things like that.

Despite what should’ve been the good influence of my best-friend’s-brother’s infatuation with glam-metal bands, my taste in music degenerated quickly.  For the next five years or so I was smitten with ... golden oldies.

Come on, what’s not to like?

So smitten that, at age twelve when normal youths play spin-the-bottle at birthday parties, I hosted a 50’s theme birthday party complete with poodle skirts. I was the HEIGHT of sophistication.

Even with the advent of Nirvana and grunge music, I clung to my obsession with Elvis, an obsession that also led to the discovery peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches which by and large are still my favorite kind of sandwich.  The only thing that saved me from becoming a music pariah was my accidental discovery of Pearl Jam while fiddling with the radio dial.

From there on I extended my music repertoire to include something OTHER than doo-wop and show-tunes.  Mainly Jewel, who I discovered around age 15 because OMG SHE SAYS BITCH IN ONE OF HER SONGS!!!!!111!!!!  What can I say, I was a real innocent.

Things grew from there.  I won’t bore you with the ins-and-outs of my favorite music these days suffice it to say that I now enjoy a wide variety of music. Even though I spent nearly a whole year addicted to anything Andrew Lloyd Weber.  Dodged a bullet with that one.