Rockstar status.

If there is anything that I would ever want to be - in the no-holds bar type of way, where the depressing limitations of reality are not an issue - it would be, hands down, a rockstar. I'm talking all-out A-list status (think: Gwen Stefani before she became annoying or Fergie but only when she was with the Black Eyed Peas) with a huge fan base, selling out shows, complete with groupies trying to flood my tour bus.

Clearly this is never going to happen, no matter how much I will it to. Of course, my mom didn't think this shit through when I was younger and force me to be something great enough that she could live vicariously through me. I don't know who signed her up for Parenting 101, but THAT'S the part she retained??
Anyway, the point is, that I love music and concerts. Definitely in the top 5 on the "Activities Worth Doing" list. More than I love the music though, I love the fantasizing about being with whichever lead singer is wearing his tight emo pants and token vintage tee crooning into the microphone. I probably even believe a little that it's possible. (Oh get off it, and let me have a little fun in my otherwise "regular" life).
It's just so fucking hot -- seriously. I don't give a fuck how lame the lyrics are...I'll make meaning of them. I don't give a fuck how many STD's the guy has....I'll pretend that I'm the best he would never know he could have. Bottom line -- musicians (and "musicians") are hot.

My first year of grad school I met a girl named Riki who was the fucking shit. We were like the two lone students that weren't totally lame. She was totally hipster punk, but more in the way of 200 dollar True Religion jeans, not in the 'Kill yourself, you're fucking emo and make me want to vomit on your 'suffering' soul' way. Anyway, her boyfriend was the merch guy for The Starting Line and was constantly on tour. When they came to Philly with Yellowcard (note: don't apply your inevitable - and warranted - despise for Yellowcard towards The Starting Line) she invited me to come to the concert and hang out while she saw her boyfriend.
Ok, seriously -- cut to fucking VIP stickers and press passes and hanging out on the tour bus and backstage with the band and their respective girlfriends (and by girlfriends, I mean groupies), trying to play it totally chill as if this shit doesn't faze me, but internally freaking out and being able to say, "I'm with the band". (I still have that VIP sticker....three years later). It was literally the highlight of my life. It was like I was thisclose. I'm seriously re-experiencing right now.

So last night, I went to the Goo Goo Dolls/Lifehouse concert. Now, I've seen Lifehouse before at the Electric Factory and am hopelessly infatuated with Jason Wade. Something about his FOB* look and husky voice. So clearly I'm willing to show up wherever he is.
But then there are the Goo Goo Dolls. I've loved Johnny Rzeznik and all his colored tattoo glory since their 1993 "Superstar Car Wash" album. Come on, the band has been around since 1987 (clearly evidenced by the 45 year old Jersey folk at the concert who are clearly still stuck in 1987) and continue to put out number one hits. I was going to be at this concert.
So PNC Bank Arts Center is amazing in the summer and the weather was perfect. Beached it for a couple of hours with my sister, grabbed some food and made our way over. Indulged Tamara in "tailgating" with a Miller Lite because she's finally 21 and then joined the hordes of teenyboppers and 45 year olds alike to make the mile hike up to the venue.
We were so 20th row. And then, due to T's expert "I don't give a shit, I'm pretty with blonde hair" attitude, we were in the 9th row against the ramp.
So first came Colbie Caillat (sweet name and sweet 13 year old fan base) and then Lifehouse. Mellow, sun's still out. I'm observing...judging...the stellar people around me.
Single 48 year old creeper eating ice cream and skulking.
Jersey pride bleached blonde fatty making friends behind me who is the loudest person I have ever heard and she came with a male co-worker who was like 27, semi-attractive and talking it up to the 19 year olds next to him. They were both teachers. Score. The guy was also wearing a shirt that said, "Awkward mornings beat a boring night". Again, score.
Two 37 year old women who were either cognitively impaired or hardcore lesbians or both. That's like a personal story....There's just not a good enough way to describe them in writing. Nor is there enough stomach power for me to do so either.
Then 9:05 and it's dark and there's Johnny in a flash of light belting out "Long Way Down". Hot. Totally, totally hot. Stage was awesome, vibe was awesome and Johnny was totally giving you sexy smirk like he knows you personally. Great combo of fast and slow. Some Black Balloon, Broadway, Name, Slide, Acoustic #3, Iris.....etc. It really couldn't get better. Amazing seats. Amazing view. Amazing music. Amazing Johnny.
Could it get better? I don't know if it was my sister's (genius) wardrobe choice of revealing dress over bathing suit or him just wanting to check out the creepy lesbians, but damn, he makes eye contact....comes down the ramp.....comes right up to me........and wait for it......reaches out his hand.
I have no words.
I just have Johnny Rzeznik's mansweat forever impaled on my left hand.
And in the few shitty months that I've named the 'Summer of Suck', this was the absolute highlight.



Please.......for your viewing pleasure:




*FOB - Fresh Off the Boat

Infuriating/Hysterical...it's a toss-up.

A personal note to all the tens of American gals out there considering joining the epidemic fad of having "partial birth" abortions.

Hello all you fertile gals out there who aren't reduced to paying fistfuls of cash for Chinese babies! If you haven't heard, my hubby's fabulous Supreme Court appointees have just taken those "partial birth" abortion things you all are so wild about off the menu at Planned Parenthood. Now, I have to be honest: After squeezing two of those messy nuisances out of my own painfully dilated lady area, I've never understood why anyone would be partial to birth. But while that procedure may only happen super-rarely to save the whining, blubbering "I'm a-scared to die!" mother's life, outlawing it is an important first step towards a glorious future where the exit to all your mischievous little hoo-hoos will be heavily patrolled by men in long black robes. So if you don't want that hairy beast Justice Scalia sticking a flashlight up your skirt, here are my tips for making the best of the burden that is (partial) free will:

1. LADY HOLES CLOSED: By far, the best way to avoid being convicted for what comes out of your vagina is being a bit more vigilant about what you stuff into it! That's why we girls in the know all practice abstinence-only even after marriage, because who wants to risk being thrown into some grungy prison that's teeming with colored gang lesbians who'd love nothing more than to ride your pretty white face like it's the mechanical bull at Gilley's honky-tonk!

2. DON'T TEMPT RAPE: While I'll be the first to admit that few things are more fun than keeping our boyfriends and husbands in a perpetual state of priapic agony by keeping all three entrances off-limits, that won't help much if you're taken forcefully, now will it? That's why with legal abortion soon to go bye-bye, it's extra important for us gals to avoid the tight cashmere sweater sets and salacious bare ankles that provoke otherwise lovely young gentlemen into dispensing vigilante penis justice to all slutty temptresses who deserve it.

3. ACCEPT YOUR LOT IN LIFE: Remember that as women, our lives are utterly meaningless up until the day we become a fertile receptacle for an energetic squirt of our man's godly sperm. Luckily for us, all three branches of America's government are packed full of kindly old skirt chasers who won't rest until we've been alleviated of the burden of co-called "choice", and can fully appreciate the fact that we must be joyously subservient to the sticky teaspoon of milky man gloop that represents the rightful limits of our aspirations.

4. THINK NICE THOUGHTS: Bad news from the ultrasound technician? Don't fret! Just because you're in imminent danger of being split in two by a hideously abnormal octopus baby that's growing out of control like an enormous, insatiable tapeworm, that's no reason to dwell morosely on the fact that the one operation which might have saved your life is now illegal. Just think about pleasant things, like how peachy it is that your handful of remaining days will be spent in FREEDOM^®!

5. GET ENTREPRENEURIAL: They say "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade." Well with Partial Birth Abortion out of the picture, I say, "If your neighbor's rapist gives her a deaf baby – make hearing aids!" America will soon be harvesting a bumper crop of little flipper children with no arms. Do you think Macy's will have cute little jumpers that accommodate a tail resulting from a prenatal pharmaceutical mishap? No! But you can! So break out your knitting needles and craft kits gals, and consider starting a home business selling hand-made deformity fashions on eBay! You didn't hear it from me, but Samuel Alito swears that vinyl onsies with the "external intestines pouch" will next year's baby shower hot ticket!

6. SECURE PROPER TRANSPORTATION: While abortion is an abomination that must be totally wiped out, we must also realize that accidents do happen, like when your darling blue-eyed trustifarian daughter sits on the wrong toilet seat and gets immaculately impregnated by a Mexi-Rican pool boy or some young fellow whose parents practice the wrong flavor of Jesus worship. In those cases, you'll need to be prepared with your own GulfStream IV jet, in order to whisk your precious Republican debutante to a Caribbean clinic for some "emergency" TLC. Ask for the "Jennappendectomy" – they'll know what you mean.

7. INVEST WISELY: Change is usually difficult, but change also offers wonderful opportunities. Rest assured this will also be the case with the now-inevitable outlawing of abortion. That's why NOW is the time to identify and invest in the coming era's emerging growth markets. And between you and me, my money's on cemetery real estate and wire coat-hanger futures!

Walk it out, Fosse

Sunday secret.

You know...

There is a time for departure

even when there's no certain place to go