Doooood...

Justin Timberlake is fine as hell. FINE AS HELL. Jenn asked me if I would whore myself to him while we were driving to the concert and I replied, "This is just not the week for that." I can't even whore myself to my own boyfriend...how am I supposed to whore myself to JT? Let me just say that we were close enough to the stage that we were watching groupies talking to Johnny Wright (JT's manager) trying to...well...whore themselves to him. It was a fucking trip.

I didn't think that I would enjoy the Xtina portion of the show, but I did. I got to sing along with her old school shit and now I have a reason to buy her CD. Not as raunchy as I thought. I was always a fan of her singing...I love it when concerts make me a better fan.

I haven't really been myself lately and I don't know why. I think it's all the pressure that's building from moving out and the fact that I'm too chicken to tell my parents. I feel bad because I've been taking it out on Byron, but I usually try to apologize when I do that. There's not a moment that goes by that I don't think about how big this step is for the both of us.