I was ROBBED!

I was born in 1974 (if you do the math, you'll come up with 33. I'm not sure how that works, since I'm only 26, but I'm more an English girl anyway....) so I did a lot of growing up in the 80's. I have a picture of me in an acid wash mini-skirt with an oversizsed Guess? t-shirt, silver conch shell belt, keds, and like 4 pairs of socks to prove it. Spikey hair and all. And as a certified child of the 80's, I am a New Kids on the Block fan. Not like a super fan or anything. I never had posters, pins, books, a Trapper Keeper, sheets, shoes, dolls (excuse me "action figures"), or ok, even any of their tapes. But I was fan. And in my defense, we were under a veritable "media blackout" in my house.

No really. When I was around 10, my father decided that "secular" music, books, and TV was going to send us all to Hell. So the TV was moved to the closet (funny, though, the TV in my parent's room was allowed to stay. Guess dad wasn't worried about going to Hell....) and the radio was banned. All books were pre-screened for acceptability. It was pure craziness.

When my older sister learned to drive, she and I would ride around town listening to the "Evil" music on Kiss FM. Then we'd change the station back to the Christian one right before we pulled in. Somehow, we got busted every.single.time. How? Well, I'll tell you. The Christian station was one channel lower on the dial than Kiss. So my dad would get in the car, hit a button, and the last station played would come up.

Or so I thought. In reality what happened is that dad would get in the car, hit the "scan" button and the radio would automatically seek out the next station. Then he'd turn to us and say "Is there something you want to tell me?" And we'd confess. Man were we stupid. The best part of this story? Yeah. I just figured it out like last year.

But none of this kept me from loving NKOTB. In my sad, pre-adolescent mind, I was totally, totally Hangin Tough. Or something like that. All I know is that I knew every lyric of every song. Know. Not "knew" or remember. Know. Yeah, I'm pathetic. But you know what? I'm totally fine with it! So fine with it, in fact that when the local radio station started running a contest to win tickets to the concert this weekend, I dialed as fast as my bloated little fingers would dial. Ok, I have the station on speed dial. Stop nitpicking.

I have tried to win a couple of times (couple=everyday for the past 2 weeks) and haven't even gotten a busy signal. Until today. I dialed once. And heard: Caller 21!!
OMG OMG OMG I'M SO GOING TO SEE THE NKOTB!
I giddily waited for them to take my name and address and record my crazy squeals for everyone in the area to hear.

But all I heard was dial tone.
What?!? Where are my tickets? I was totally caller 21! I won!
But I got nothin but dial tone.

The radio robbed me. Sigh.

I suppose in the end it's for the best. I'm not sure how dancing to The Right Stuff all night would fit into my "pelvic rest". But really. That's not the point.
Stupid radio.

Maybe Dad was right. Radio is from the devil after all.