Dear Josh Groban

Author's Note: Please God, Dad, don't read this.

Hi! I just saw you in concert, and while I will post a full, undoubtedly caffeine-fueled recap tomorrow, I felt the need to write.

Because I want you.

Really badly.

Right now.

Anything that will hold us.

So please, before you consider my sister- who went from being a repressed Catholic schoolgirl (And not in the dirty way- although, if that works for you, I probably could find a uniform. I did go through the second grade, you know.)known for screeching "Bad touch! Bad touch!!!" to a filthy whore in the span of like ten seconds when you can onstage, or Mary- who said that if she had gone with her boyfriend she would have had to dump him because there's no way he could ever be good enough, or, God forbid, one of those fat, post-menopausal women who wanted to grab your ass during "In Her Eyes", PLEASE CALL ME.

I'm young, not hideously disfigured, and yeah I guess I've put on a little weight since the gymnastics days, but at lease my ovaries still work, unlike the majority of your fans.

Also, since you sang Weeping and said "I'll be damned"??? I've aquired incredibly flexible morals. Just so you know.

Anyhoodles, looking forward to Friday. Love you. Bye!!!