When I was in middle school I spent most of my free time assembling elaborate care packages and sending them to the Backstreet Boys. I’d stuff manila envelopes with hand-drawn portraits, games and quizzes (in case they got bored on their tour bus), and carefully crafted love letters to each band member. “Dear Howie,” I wrote, “I know that sometimes you’re under-appreciated because you’re so short and your voice kinda sounds like a woman’s, but trust me, I understand you.” To my favorite Backstreet Boy, AJ McLean … Keep reading »
