Let’s cut to the chase. I saw Mariah Carey for the fourth – but definitely not best – time about three hours ago at Hudson’s Bay. More on that later, though.

I woke up this morning with more stomach pains. Likely a result of last night’s binge eating, but I was definitely on the mend. I think what’s happened is that I’ve fallen back into my late-night eating habits. After tonight’s repeat offense, it needs to stop at once. As with yesterday morning, I wasn’t feeling a day of eating today. I slept in as long as I could, and avoided dealing with my kitchen. I made a small lunch, but nothing special.

Once at The Clubhouse, I sat at my desk and did my thing. For the first time in my six months pon de job, today I reached a point where I’ve stopped asking for Big Bird’s approval. That moment came when I had about 50 emails to send out in two mass deliveries, and sent them without asking any questions. You know what? I think it’s about damn time. I didn’t want to ask Big Bird about the wording, or what should be changed, or blah, blah, blah. Fuck it. It’s a 100-word email that half the people won’t even open. The more I ask Big Bird for writing advice, the less my work sounds like me, and the more it sounds like a corporate robot sans emotion. I refrained from making reference to Mariah – believe me, she was on my mind more than usual today – and sent off the emails. Guess what? The world didn’t stop.

We also reached a milestone with membership phone calls today. Big Bird asked me if I was more comfortable making calls when she’s not in the office. Before she could even finish her sentence, I shouted, “YES!” in complete agreement. Big Bird actually admitted that she feels the same way at times, and that perhaps we could schedule blocks to make our work calls alone. Finally, an idea I can get behind.

By the time I had finished my lunch, which was really just 40 minutes of me talking to Emma in her office, it was time to pack up my things and head over to Hudson’s Bay. Lawrence was surprised I even came into work today. Let’s be real here, though. Mariah was set to do one song in front of Hudson’s Bay tonight. I was not about to take an entire day off work to see Mimi lip-sync “All I Want for Christmas is You.” It turned out that she was actually paid $1M to sing two songs, but that still didn’t solicit a personal day.

While taking transit across town, I almost got another ticket on the damn streetcar. Fortunately, I managed to con my way out of it once again. Thank you, Jesus. I do not have $230 to spare.

Once at Hudson’s Bay, there were small crowds scattered all over the place. I tried standing in a few different spots – quickly learning the ropes of what areas were/weren’t off limits – and finally settled into a corner that security wasn’t asking people to move from. This was around 4:30 p.m. The streets were set to close at 5:30 p.m. sharp.

I waited.

And waited.

Connor and Dan were on their way to join me, so we were in constant texting communication this whole time. They both made it to my spot just before 5:30 p.m.

I am not kidding, this “concert” was the craziest thing I have ever experienced. I couldn’t tell if I was shaking because I was cold, or because of the anticipation. By this time, there were thousands of people surrounding Hudson’s Bay. Every single person was ready to race into the street as soon as the police shut it down. I looked to my left. One lane of Queen Street West was had been closed. Time to move in.

We got closer, and there were –

Sorry. I got distracted. I just spent 15 minutes watching Mariah Carey perform Christmas songs on YouTube.

Anyway, we got closer to the street. People were moving in. My heart was racing. This was literally going to be a sprint to the stage. I was actually expecting there to be a gunshot telling us it was time to start the race. When I noticed a random couple slowly making their way into the middle of the street, it was officially time to begin moving in.

“Fuck it,” I told the boys. “Come with me.”

Apparently, this was not allowed.

“Back on the sidewalk!” the police officers started yelling at us.

Not one for police brutality – even if it was in the name of Mariah Carey – we followed command. That’s when all hell broke loose. I guess the “gun” went off in a different area, and we just didn’t hear it. All of the sudden, Queen Street West turned into the stampede scene from Disney’s The Lion King. People flooded the street. Fuck the police! I ran to that fucking stage with everything in me. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea. I’m not fucking kidding. Thousands of people raced to Hudson’s Bay, filling in every inch of the pavement – and there were still cars on the street!

By all definitions, this was a fucking mess. The police and security just stood on the sidelines with their jaws pon de street. How in the fuck were they going to fix this? Queen Street West had become a sea of people within seconds, with five cars completely surrounded by bodies and nowhere to go.

The good news? I was about two people away from the stage. I fucking did it! Given my giant stature, I knew Connor and Dan would eventually find me. They were just a few people behind, and slowly wiggled over to my spot. Later, Dan told me that as people started to run into the streets, he heard a guy in front of him yell to his friend, “Follow the blonde guy! He knows what he’s doing!” You’re damn right, man. I sure did.

Through a lot of pushing and yelling, the cops and security eventually managed to move the cars through the crowd. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for Mariah to come on stage – in two hours. Just before 8 p.m., the crowd went absolutely nuts. The Queen of Christmas herself walked out of Hudson’s Bay, and onto the world’s smallest stage. It’s not often that I find spaces smaller than my apartment, but this stage was barely bigger than a king-sized bed.

To say tonight’s event was a “mess” would be a complete understatement. Here’s the breakdown:

Mariah came on stage
Mariah sang her ghetto version of “Here Comes Santa Claus”
Mariah gave a bit of banter
Mariah sang “All I Want for Christmas Is You”
Mariah left the stage

I would say the performances were about 60% lip-sync, 40% live vocals. Not that it mattered, though. You couldn’t hear the woman! I literally recorded half of each song, and I can barely hear her on the playback. The crowd was so loud. I absolutely loved it.

In true Mimi fashion, she was dressed in the most ridiculous ensemble. My guess is that she was trying to resemble a giant Christmas present. As with everything else tonight – the cold, the waiting, the crowds, the shoving, the stiff knees, painful lower back, lip-syncing, angry and crazed Lambs, and deafening crowd – the “concert” was completely worth it. I mean, come on! When Mariah Carey comes to Toronto, of course I’m going to fucking go! Are you kidding me?

As of tonight, it’s clear that I’ve officially been labeled as a Mariah Carey fan. I know this, because I’ve had about 40 notifications over the course of the week from family and friends – both close and very, very distant – letting me know about Mariah’s Hudson’s Bay performance. Of course I knew! I am also not at all surprised by this. If anything, I appreciate the association.

Tonight’s experience is sort of what I was touching on a few weeks ago with the whole “being lucky” thing. There were literally thousands of people at this evening’s event. That is by no means an exaggeration, either. As I heard about 27 times from the girl behind me – who, by the way, was very upset that I was both tall and would not move – she had been waiting outside Hudson’s Bay since 8 a.m. this morning. Meanwhile, I left work at 4 p.m., waited an hour, and then claimed my spot at the front of the crowd with two of my friends in a sea of 6,000 people. That’s luck, right? Damn. The “concert” wasn’t the best thing I’ve seen, but I would never pass up an opportunity to see The Voice herself in any town I’m in.

Once the crowd thinned out, the three of us were finally able to bend our knees. Walking like we had just finished a three-day fitness boot camp, we limped halfway home, got Chipotle, and then continued to our respective apartments.

Back at the Witch Cave, I gorged on more food than I’d care to write about right now while I gave Finding Dory another chance. For the record, the film was better the second time. Once Dory was found, I pried myself off the couch and into bed. Fuck. I’m tired.

Right now, I’m going back and forth with RX via iMessage. Yeah. I can’t believe it either. RX actually sent me more than two messages this time, but mostly they were just digs at Mariah Carey or my passion for her. It’s probably going to fade out right about –

Oh. Yep. Now seems about right.

Wow! 25 whole minutes. A new record!

Why do I fucking bother?

Goodnight xo