Of all my favorite pastimes, the two that top my list are listening to good music and trying new things.

So when the opportunity to do both at the same time arises, it usually makes my day. That is exactly what I thought I was walking into Friday night when I attended one of the strangest concerts of my life.

I was at an Aaron Carter show. Granted, I knew it wasn’t going to be good music, and yes, it’s true, I had fearlessly walked into the heart of musical evil. It was the one place no self-respecting independent music fan should ever find himself, but I couldn’t stop smiling.

In my day, I’ve been to all kinds of concerts — granted, they have mostly been centered around the metal/hardcore genres, but I’ve made my way to rap shows, indie rock and even Weird Al Yankovic. Teeny bopper, bubble gum pop, however, was a new deal. One that I ended up getting screwed on.

Truth be told, in hindsight, I have no idea why my friend Ken and I felt free tickets meant we had to go. At the same time, I’m happy we did because it made me realize what a joke it really was. Let me set the scene so you avoid the audial agony that is a group of pre-pubescent girls screaming their appreciation for their favorite blond heartthrob.

As we pulled up to the venue about half an hour late, the parking lot told us all about the crowd we were about to encounter.

With the exception of a few sedans, the parking lot was teeming with Jeeps, station wagons and SUVs. So it was no coincidence when we walked in that we were greeted with the two things every concert I had ever been to lacked — 10-year-olds and parents.

The floor of the ballroom looked more like a preschool playground than a group of kids who wanted to see a show. With the exception of the overwhelming number of parents standing around buying overpriced merchandise, the scene could only be described as absolute f’ing chaos.

Kids were flying all around the floor, playing tag, crawling and even playing leapfrog. I had to laugh as I remembered this was the crowd for a “musician” who had told me he wanted to be taken seriously as an artist — this really, really seemed like a good place to start.

This is when the facade of Aaron Carter began to unravel right in front of my eyes.

I don’t know if it was the simplistic and generic synchronized dancing or the 11-year-old girls wearing matching tiny, white shorts with “I heart AC” written across their undeveloped glutes, but at some point, I lost my sense of humor.

Ask anyone who knows me, and you’ll find out it takes a lot for me to lose my positive edge, but Aaron Carter didn’t only destroy my good mood — he came close to crushing my spirit. With every instance of between-song chatter, I came to find out that what he was doing wasn’t just performing bad music. He was more than just a clean-cut pretty boy — he was actually promoting this over-the-top pre-teen sexuality where a girl wearing a shirt saying “Come get the candy” was awarded with a trip on stage to accompany Carter for a little BET-influenced gyrating.

Sure, the show and music weren’t targeted for a 20-year-old college kid and his friend, so I’ll spare you a rant about how embarrassing the actual music was, but I’ll say one thing: If you’re going to address the crowd and tell them the next song is the first one you ever wrote and it took two years, make sure it’s a tad more profound than going to a party on Saturday night.

I don’t want to come across as being anti-Aaron Carter simply because of my disdain for pop music, but the whole thing came across as a mockery of something I hold so dearly. The whole show seemed designed to keep kids focused on how hot he is and the parents focused on the $25 T-shirts the kids were convinced they couldn’t live without. The “music” was left to the wayside.

There is plenty of kid-friendly music out there that doesn’t include sexual innuendos or artificial performers.

If kids’ bodies need to have proper nutrition to grow, the same should go for their mental health.

Sure, a Big Mac may seem tasty, but the truth is, there is nothing good about it — it’s empty calories. That’s all Aaron Carter was — one huge Big Mac.