Take Me To Church

I attended church this weekend.

No, it was not on Sunday. It was on Friday night.

In downtown Los Angeles.

At the Staples Center.

Mass was led by the patron saint of pop music, Taylor Swift.


(Britney actually is, but T-Swift serves as the interim Saint until Britney decides she wants to come back).


As the voice of our millennial generation, I envisioned the stadium to be packed with 20-somethings, united in song- Reflecting on past experiences where Taylor helped them through a difficult time.

This was not the case.

I was the oldest person there.

Well, my roommate and I were at least.


Surrounded by legit children, (not even pre-teens) and families, we danced and screamed to all things Swift.


One of the kids knocked over my vodka soda and didn’t realize what he had done.

No, this is not water!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I laughed, I cried (not over the vodka soda), and loved hearing the soundtrack to my life for the past 10 years, live in concert.


What I did not love, was the Lakers propaganda, with Kobe making an appearance during “Style.”

I came here to see Swift and her posse of model friends walk the runway in sync, not halt the song for Kobe to award Taylor a banner.

I would have much preferred to see this.


Sigh round two.

I might have been a bit on edge with the toddlers, since I was exhausted from moving.

We only moved one floor above where we currently live, but honestly one Saturday of hell, was enough to push me to my limit- Mentally and Physically.


Ever since the one-floor move, I’ve been in this haze, where I walk into a World Market, or a Target for one item, and walk out with an assortment of random objects.

I legitimately blacked out at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

I bought a scarf hanger…



And wine?



Post T-Swift and one week after the one-floor move, I woke up with the leg cramp.

The one where, you want to call 9-1-1 and are literally paralyzed.

This was me Friday night.


My Saturday footwork at the Bungalow did not help, but it’s still sore and i’m concerned.

Correspondance with my Soul Cycle instructor, Franz.

Besides the age reminder and the leg cramp, the T-Swift 1989 concert was everything I could have wanted and more (minus Kobe), and I would recommend everyone to go.

Just make sure your seat is close to the refreshments.