I Got That Justin Bieber Fever. I Would Prefer It If You Did Not Believe It.


I’m not sure when it happened, exactly. “Where Are U Now” was playing like every 30 minutes on the radio. By the time I heard it for the 75th time, I was singing along to every word. I told myself it was catchy and I really liked it when the beat dropped. Yeah, I just said that.

But then he performed it live on the VMA’s. And it wasn’t even “Where Are U Now” that got me. I mean, the kid can dance. It’s pretty damn impressive. But he looked like he was wearing an oversized onesie. If that black shirt had been any longer, it would have qualified as a moomoo.  And he is always grabbing his dick. I’m convinced he either A) Has Crabs or B) He has a paralyzing fear of losing his Mini Biebs. So he has to check to make sure it is still there every 20 seconds.


But then he started singing “What Do You Mean” and I was like, “Hmmm. I like this song.” But then the little bastard started to cry and I was like, “Nope. Still a douche.” And I thought I was cured of my momentary lapse of Bieber Fever.


I was wrong. Dead wrong. “What Do You Mean” was flooding the radio and every time it came on, I listened to the lyrics a little closer. I couldn’t help but think to myself, “Damn. Did he write this song for me?” I was hooked. The beat was sick, the lyrics explained my daily indecisiveness about every little thing, and he has a nice voice. So I downloaded both of those songs and started rocking out to them in my car every chance I got.


I wasn’t ready for the world to know about my secret just yet. Then I watched him perform an acoustic version of “Sorry” on Ellen. And by “watch” I mean, mouth open, eyes wide, and chin resting on my fist, while a little bit of drool slowly dripped down the side of face. He was so cool and relaxed. His voice was soft and hypnotizing. He kept looking into the camera and I was so sure he was looking into my soul. He seemed remorseful and I started dreaming of him and Selena’s wedding together. I was silently sending Selena telepathic messages telling her he was really sorry and that she should totally give him another chance. I started telling JB that it’s never too late to say sorry.


But then the little fucker started grabbing his dick again and I totally snapped out of whatever mental break I was experiencing and remembered I was almost 30 years old. I immediately felt confused and dirty. I looked over my shoulder hoping nobody witnessed my tragic fall from grace. I wanted to take a shower and pray for forgiveness because surely that little tattooed, skinny jean wearing, weed smoking, angel was not even 18 yet! What was I thinking?! Note: I have since learned that he is now 20 years old. Sooooo I’m not a total creep.


That was all she wrote though. After I heard him sing “Sorry” I knew I was buying his album. And you better believe I bought it the day it was released. And I listened to the entire album in one sitting. And I was amazed. A little confused still, but amazed nonetheless. While I am sure he doesn’t write all of his music, the boy can sing and he has soul. And I loved every single song. I have had the album on repeat for days.

As much as it pains me, I have to give the Biebs credit. He made one hell of an album. I now feel no shame for crossing over to the dark side. I am feeling JB y’all. His new music is giving me all the feels.


He still needs to cut that wave of platinum blonde lady hair off. And he really needs to talk to someone about the constant grabbing of his Mini Biebs. Maybe wear looser pants. Otherwise, it looks and sounds like JB might be growing up a little bit.


Now, does anyone have any Baby Tylenol? I really need to break this fever.

Xoxo Rebecca

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