Guilty pleasure

My best friend told me there is no such thing as a guilty pleasure. If you like

Me showing my TSwift appreciation in Newark Prudential Center July 23

something, why be ashamed of it? So here it goes:

Last weekend, I went to the Taylor Swift concert. By myself. Because I love her.

“Those past the unicorns ‘n’ hearts stage may roll their eyes — but really, they’re not who Swift is speaking to,” said a review of the concert in Entertainment Weekly. So that leads me to another confession: I’m not over the unicorns ‘n’ hearts stage either. If anyone wants to know what the inside of my mind looks like, go see a Taylor Swift concert.

I had a fabulous time. I befriended a girl from Switzerland (also by herself) and two sisters from Puerto Rico whose parents had gotten them  tickets for making the university honor role. I helped a six-year-old girl high-five Taylor as she walked by our front row seats. I left the Prudential Center in Newark and waited on the platform for my train back into Manhattan, humming all the while:

 

 

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One Response to Guilty pleasure

  1. liz whitmore says:

    you’re awesome!

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