My money woes have been no secret. I am poor and I complain about it a lot. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have hopes and dreams of being able to do spectacular things that only one with a money tree would be able to pull off. Because I do. For instance, I would LOVE to go to London to see the opening of the new musical based on the repertoire of the Spice Girls. See? Doesn’t that sound like a life-altering pilgrimage? I agree.
The Spice Girls were my absent “big sisters” during my formative years. They taught me about makeup, hair, platform tennis shoes and slutty, slutty skirts. They taught me about “girl powa” and “zig a zag, ah”. They taught me that you should pick a trait about yourself and then stick to it firmly. I would be Sarcasm Spice. Posh Spice (Victoria Beckham) is still the most fabulous person alive. Try and disagree. I still listen to their music on a regular basis and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
So here’s what I’m thinking:
Someone somewhere needs to tell someone who has power and money that I should travel to London to see the opening of the show. It is my destiny. I will write about my mis-adventures and make the world laugh. I will drink too much and aggravate soccer hooligans. I will speak with my best British accent and offend the entire country. I will shamelessly stalk Prince Harry and probably get arrested. I will do all of this for the greater good of humanity. And I’ll need to bring a friend. The slot has already been filled, so don’t bother plying me with presents or compliments. Or do. That seems better.
90s pop music on stage in musical form is my entire reason for living. Someone somewhere must know a Spice Girl. Make it happen. Soon. My passport expires next year.