Once upon a time, there was a young man. That’s right, a young MAN. That man is shooting for free Miley Cyrus tickets.
That’s how secure he is in his masculinity.
That young man, my friends, is me.
I suppose it all really started while studying organic chemistry. I was working with a friend on certain reactions and the circumstances that make them happen. Our focus wasn’t too strong at the time, however, because we were right outside a big youth dance. While discussing the difference between substitution and elimination reactions, Miley’s “See You Again” came on at a very high volume. We both sort of smiled, and kept talking. Then, suddenly, in a moment of gloriously unrehearsed perfect comedic timing, we looked straight at each other and said in perfect rhythm, “Oh, SHE’S JUST BEING MILEY!”
Since that fateful day, we have adopted this as our lifetime philosophy. After all, what’s the point of life if you can’t be Miley now and again? Miley has now become our favorite adjective. We’re not entirely sure what it means, but we have faith that being Miley can’t be a bad thing. Hey, look we got good grades on that test! “Dude, we’re just being Miley!” Any time he feels particularly confident? “Oh, he’s just being Miley.” Am I having a particularly good day? “I’m just being Miley!” No further explanation is required. Being Miley is just that way. It’s intuitive. It’s more than a feeling.
If awarded these tickets, I will truly be Miley that day. It will be that good. It would be the Miley-est day of my life. Me and this friend of mine (and our wives, probably) will go and have a blast. Sure, we may not know any of the words, but we know one line, and when Ms. Cyrus sings it, we will most certainly be ready. And we will most certainly be Miley.