This morning started out just like the rest, a blur of diaper changes and emails to answer, when out of the blue, the hubz mentions that James Marsters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is performing a concert in Chicago in honor of his 50th birthday.
First thought: Errr…what? Spike’s 50? He could have totally been my teen daddy.
Second thought: Ahh well, still hot.
Third thought: I’m. So. There.
I’ve been a fan of James Marsters since his Buffy days. Not only is he a rad actor (No, sadly Spike’s accent isn’t real. And, yes, I almost needed therapy when I found out years after I’d fallen in love.), but he’s also a wickedly talented musician. I’d always wanted to see him play, but alas, never had the opportunity.
And since I knew I’d most likely be rowdy and completely embarrassing to my husband, I sought out the company of super fabulous Jen of My Crafty Life.
Have you ever met someone online and felt like you have to be sharing the same brain? That’s her. She’s my equally evil twin. My crazy brain doppelganger. We have the same twisted sense of humor and obsession with horror flicks and shows as well as the eye candy who always make them worthwhile–even during the less than perfect seasons. (cough, Alexander Skarsgård, cough, Jensen Ackles, cough, swoon, drool)
We met a couple years ago as new members of Mom Spark Media, and it was an instant sinister lurve connection. We’ve been epically bad influences on each other ever since, and it’s been nothing short of awesome.
But we’ve never met in person. Never. Like, not ever, despite living relatively close to each other. I’m pretty sure the forces of nature know that that much sauciness in one place would cause the world to shift off its axis. Or something.
We’d talked about meeting at conferences, catching a Disney screening together or having an Alexander Skarsgård marathon–BYOB (bring your own bib)–but it’s never panned out.
When I heard about James’ concert, I had to ask Jen, because while we’d never discussed it during our random, insane, and incoherent-to-normal-people exchanges, I knew she had to be a Buffy fan–and more importantly–a James Marsters fan. After a couple messages on Facebook, it was clear that my Whedon-dar hadn’t led me astray.
It took all of five minutes for us to buy the tickets and start our plans for meeting up. I’m so freaking excited. How could this possibly go wrong, other than me getting super lost in Chicago and a possible trip for two to the pokey?
James Marsters and meeting a blogger pal I’ve admired since I planted my roots on the Internet? This is going to be epic.
If all goes well, and our husbands ever let us hang out together again–which may be a BIG if should bail be required to end our visit–maybe the next stop will have to be Winchest Midwest or Salute to Supernatural. Muahahahaha…wear your sneakers, Jensen.