Jason woke me from a deep slumber this morning and surprised me with tickets to Clay's show tonight. I didn't think Clay's tour was opening in Chicago, but Jason insisted it was a special show and we had to go. Who was I to argue with free Clay Aiken tickets?

Before we could enter the arena, we had to be searched for cameras or weapons or whatever. A gentleman in a fedora and a tight pink shirt patted me down. I shook off the notion that it was Ryan Seacrest. Just as he began insisting that I take my shirt off, he was grabbed by security guards and escorted off the premises. Another security guard approached and had me empty my pockets. I pulled out my car keys, a sign that said "Take Me Now, Clay!", and a box of Super Loverman Brand condoms.

"Aren't these a bit inappropriate?" The security guard asked.

"I was saving them for our wedding night, but Clay won't return my calls."

She scrunched her nose up and tossed the signs and condoms into a nearby garbage can.

Our seats were far from the stage. Jason could only afford lawn seats. It wasn't close to The Clay, but I figured I could manage to mingle with the petty civilians of Illinois.

The opening acts were Ryan 'I Talk Too Much' Cabrera and Ashlee 'I Need To Lay Off The Pixie Stix' Simpson. It began to rain as soon as Ashlee opened her mouth, but soon enough a pretty rainbow appeared over the lawn. I decided then and there that Clayton and I would wed underneath. To the tune of 'Hungry Eyes'.

Finally, after waiting two hours, Clay came out in a pink frilly gown, long blonde hair, and boobs squished tight. It didn't seem quite right, but The Aiken often does stuff that doesn't gel. Besides, he looked so pretty.

After the third or fourth song, I started to get the hint that maybe the person on stage wasn't Clay after all. I took out my ticket stub and read it by the light of my glow stick. It said "Jessica Simpson". Damn! That's when I noticed my glow stick also said "Jessica Simpson". Sneaky brother. I would have strangled him had he been sitting next to me. I had sent him out into the mob of fans hours earlier for some snacks and he never came back. I lost my youngest sibling for the price of nachos and pretzels… mmm pretzels. Before he left I found myself wondering why he was wearing a Jessica Simpson shirt. When I inquired about it he said, "What? This old thing?" I didn't remember him wearing it in the car and it looked brand new, but I bought his story. After all, he was my own flesh and blood. Sneaky flesh and blood as it turned out.

I wanted to stay for the rest of the show, but I was seethed with anger. As luck would have it, I was missing the opening show of Clay's tour in North Dakota. Plus, the five college-aged couples dancing and grinding a few feet away was terrifying.

I came home and searched the apartment for my Clay ticket to confirm the concert date. I had asked Pat to hold onto them and to remind me when the date came for the show. He says I never asked him to, but I know I did. I tore the apartment up from top to bottom. I finally found the ticket, along with my plane ticket, underneath the bed. They was wedged between an old hotdog and a Corey Haim poster. I wonder how it got under there.

I thought the tour started later this week, but apparently I was wrong. It started tonight. If only I had checked the dates closer. Damn! I was supposed to be following Clay on the road. Now I have 24 hours to get my butt on track. I've packed my lucky tennis shoes and my Victoria Secret credit card. I'm ready to head out to the airport. Ciao!