Today, I am having to work extra hard to concentrate on anything important because an exciting thing happened: I got tickets to go see BARRY MANILOW!

Let that sink in.

I know that may seem a little weird, but when I hear Manilow, it makes me think of being a little kid and riding in the back of our yellow station wagon, listening to what has become dentist office music (lite 70s rock, which I love).

Of course, this makes me think of the music that's coming out now, and what is going to be dentist office music when I'm old. I'd like to know if the people who are in their 80s feel the same way about music from 40 or 50 years ago that I'm going to feel about the situation when they're adjusting my dentures and I'm being sedated so I don't care that I'm listening to Ke$ha's yodelling. Is that kind of crap ever going to be soothing to people?

That is just not possible. How can you compare the warm fuzziness that happens in my stomach when I hear "I Write the Songs" to the massive vomiting that happens in the car when my husband decides to force me to listen to Lady Gaga because he thinks the look on my face is hilarious?

By the way, that's not funny at all. My ears are being physically assaulted by the soundwaves, and I may press charges. Of course, me saying this means that although I was just barely on the fringes of the line between youngish person and curmudgeon before this blog post, I am now firmly planted on the curmudgeon side.

I think I like it, as long as being a curmudgeon means I can yell at kids to get out of my yard and grumble about the price of Tums, but I can still reference Family Guy and make fart jokes whenever it's humanly possible.

Okay, okay. Enough talking. I have to get started on my outfit for the concert. I may make a homemade Manilow t-shirt, but I'm not sure yet. All I know for sure is that I'm so excited my brain may explode.