Literally, that was quite an experience.
Ok, maybe my daughters would not put it quite like that, but then, I never was good at learning a foreign language. Literally.
Still, even my slow brain could tell the adverb was in overdrive on Tuesday night at the Miley Cyrus concert in Raleigh, and that it tended to be accompanied by a tremulous exclamation while the user fanned herself or hopped up and down, to wit: "Oh my god, literally, that was the most amazing show evaaaah!!!"
No, I am not mocking sweet young things. After all, it was my idea to go watch Miley.
It was one that was met with unbridled approval at first, and then guarded consent when my teenaged daughters realised that yes, mum wanted to go too. In the end, we negotiated an arrangement whereby I would sit near but not with them.
It's not such an outlandish idea. I would never shell out for Taylor Swift, but Miley, even as Hannah Montana was no boring Disney clone, and she had certainly spiced up the news sites with enough gossip about her private life in the last year to pique my interest.
Would she implode like Justin Bieber? Or was she truly, as one interview I heard suggested, a savvy and seasoned performer who was getting as far away from Hannah Montana as she could because she knew it would sell records?
Did she, all of 21, realise that if parents hated her, it would buy her street cred with their daughters? When my 16-year-old asked around which of her friends wanted to come along, one mother said to her child, "No way am I paying for you to go watch that woman of low morals", except she didn't exactly say woman of low morals.
Not that Miley, so it seemed, would have cared. For as she says, in We Can't Stop, "Remember only God can judge ya/Forget the haters 'cause somebody loves ya".
After all those years of being groomed and prepped, and pushed and pulled in all directions, and loved and hated as the tide rose and fell, who could blame Miley if she finally said, in exasperation, I-mma do my thang.