I 
know you put this concert on your calendar months ago. I know you had to log into Ticketmaster at five in the morning and take the same medication as one of those terrified Chihuahuas with the crusty ring around their eyes in order to calm down enough to sit in the virtual queue. I know today is the day that you’ve been counting down to for 180 days.
And I know you’re mad that you’re finally here and are spending your time silently cussing me out while I inadvertently block your view, but here are a few things that I want you to know.
You Have the Privilege of Seeing the Back of My Head
I use Spider-Man 4-in-1 Body Wash/Lubricant/Shampoo/Conditioner. I’ve been using it for years, Andrew Garfield is on the bottle for some reason. I put a lot of hard work into my grooming and self-care and it’s sort of upsetting that you would overlook that because you can’t see Phoebe Bridgers. I’ve been told that the back of my head is so soft, it’s like those $10 holiday blankets you get at Target.
Honestly, Maybe You Should Just Get Taller
I mean, that’s what I did. And look how it worked out for me!
Why Are You Upset at ME When I’m the Same Height as the Artist We’re Seeing?
Hozier and I are the same height? But that’s not a problem to you…?
You Can Climb on My Back at Any Time—Anytime at All—You Just Don’t
Just like a plush monkey at the zoo gift shop, you’re also allowed to freely hang from my shoulders. Why you don’t do it, I don’t know. It would be beneficial for the both of us: You’d get to see the show and I’d get to pretend I’m Luke in Dagobah with Yoda hanging off my back. Plus you could be a weapon if I spun around fast enough.
My Life is Filled with Tragedy and Devastation the Likes of Which You Can’t Fathom
Every year my school did a play and I had to play a tree.
If I Can’t Stand Smack-Dab in the Middle of the Pit, I Will Die
It’s crucial that I manage to stand right in front of the artist, at the barricade, despite getting here late. If I don’t, neither side of my pillow will ever be cool again, something will crawl out from under my bed and grab my ankles, my nose will fall right off my face, I’ll develop the Cilantro gene, my dog will never sit next to me on the couch ever again. Do you really want that on your conscience?
I Also Steal Mobile Orders from Starbucks
My height isn’t even the worst part about me! Weird that you would zero in on that when I’ve had Starbucks like, nine times this week and didn’t pay for any of it.
That’s how I try new drinks. I would never know what a Mint Chocolate Java Chip Crunch Frappuccino tastes like if Kristen H. didn’t order it. If you asked nicely, I could get you something too like a cake pop or a sandwich…. We won’t actually know what’s inside the bag until we’re at least 15 feet from the store, but I hope that’s not a problem for you. Anything to squash our beef.
You can thank me later.