Thursday, January 18, 2007
Crooning on my STEREO: Come Primavera by IL DIVO
Stupidly enough, I seem to be suffering from consecutive attacks of various withdrawal syndromes. First, it was the post-Italy depression. And now... I'm suffering from a number of post-Il Divo fits. I am wondering why my optimistic start to 2007 is plagued by such life threatening emo attacks. It's like the curse of the daily PMS.
Nah, kidding. Blame it on the humid climate. At least I've been honing some constructive skills during the last 10 days.
You see, I've been stalking Il Divo. From Velvet to Bar Savanh and back to Velvet. I forgot to include the number of times (and hours) I've loitered at Shangrila. Funny how nobody chased me out unlike the last time I stalked Mika Hakkinen in Pan Pacific.
Sad, I know.
And I've met Carlos at least 4 times during their week in KL. So much so that he had to acknowledge me with a rather horrified 'oh-my-god-its-you-again!' smile while on stage.
January 16th was downright special because I spent the previous 3 months on blood, sweat and tears to obtain a front row seat for the concert. With all that close proximity, my saliva glands had been bruised. I was drooling chronically.
As one of the rare few who actually PAID for their tickets, I have to declare my bankruptcy to the world.
But I made some fantastic friends (or what they call Il Divo fanatics- 'Divas') who are as obssessed as I am. We were the starstruck lot who would run around in prom dresses screaming 'I love Il Divo!!' and terrorising posh women in the ballroom.
I "met" (or had some sort of the slightest contact) with the man of my dreams for the grand total of 4 times.
The first time I was screaming into his ear half drunk in an immensely crowded nightclub. I apparently kissed him on the cheek. As for the second time, I sized him up at Shangrila when he couldn't remember my name.
The third time was when I summoned every god-given courage I had just to hand him a rose on stage. We are talking about an audience of 3000 people of all species. (1/3 of whom recognised my tacky blonde highlights thereafter.)
Thing is, I didn't do what fans usually do; (ie. kiss your idol on the cheek, rape him there and then or to embrace him like a god.)
Instead I did this:-
I walked up to him in the manner of a zombie.
He then flashed his divine smile at me.
I chucked the rose at him.
And ran for my life.
And only God knows why I did that.
I am such a cow.
I had to post this same picture twice. Simply because this final photo with him (as I was chasing him out of the ballroom) was a consolation to my rudeness on stage.
Oh boy, you only live once.
I finally met the man who had been reigning my bedroom wall.
I am 23 and I should stop lusting over boybands.