Yep, it's Derby Time again...

I'm out here at the track as the mobile property clerk. I had to come in at 7 this morning, which was NOT pretty!

Anyway, to keep myself entertained, I've come up with a Fashion Victim Bingo chart. We'll see how many I've checked off by the end of the day.

1. Man in seersucker suit with visible underwear lines.

2. Man in seersucker suit with lack of underwear clearly visible.

3. Woman with skirt that could double for headband.

4. Woman with more material in her hat than in her entire outfit.

5. Group of frat boy types in coordinating ugly plaid shorts.

6. Woman wearing heels too high with skirt too short.

7. Anyone wearing ugly novelty hat.

8. Drunk guy without pants. (Seriously, I have seen this. They usually lose them fighting in the infield)

9. Couple who have taken the matchy matchy look WAY too far.

10. Trifecta- woman in hat too big, heels too tall, dress that provides inadequate coverage on both ends.

Chech back later to see how I did!z

This is what happens when I work a double shift and the office is TOO DAMN HOT

So, around the beginning of the shift, I posted on Facebook that the office was too hot and if it didn't start cooling off, I was taking off my pants. (I did NOT mention the shorts I had in my car to change into)

The responses to that ranged from "Whoo-hoo!" (thank you, Martin) to "Pictures or we don't believe you." (Be careful what you ask for)

About 3 hours later the temperature had actually RISEN 3 degrees, so the jeans came off. The shorts went on, and to amuse my friends, I took and posted a picture of my legs propped up on the desk. (From mid-thigh down so it looks like I'm running around the office in my underwear)

About 30 seconds after I posted it, my cell phone started ringing, the office phone started ringing, and my FB feed went nuts. The smarter of my friends figured it out, but still thought it was hysterically funny, especially as I've been in a very down cycle lately.
The more obnoxious of my officer friends started calling people and telling them to look at it. I've also been informed that a van load of guys on a stakeout nearly blew their cover when one found it and screamed "Holy shit, Mickey has lost her motherf'ing mind and is getting nekkid in the property room!!!" Amusingly enough, HIS SGT. was one of the first people to respond online.

So, if nothing else, I have at least had some fun tonight and made it go by a little quicker. And I'm sure I'll get an earful from my bosses on Monday...except for the one on my friends list who is probably choking on his beer.

If I ever figure out how to add photos to my blog, I'll share that shot. :-)

Belated: Happy Birthday to Me!

So, Dad got moved OUT of the ICU on my birthday! We're very happy about this, especially him.

Mom & I went and had our tea party at Sister's Tea Shop. It was tasty. I tried their Buckingham Palace Garden Party tea blend which turned out to be an Earl Grey with Jasmine. I loved it. The three-tiered nibbles assortment we ordered was also good. 2 of my favorites from that were the Black Pepper Biscuits with Ham Salad and the Caramelized Onion/Corn scone. They also brought me a giant chocolate cupcake with a pink rose frosting that was moist & delicious.

Went back to Mom's to open my presents. She & Dad bought me the Hollow Crown miniseries on DVD- Tom Hiddleston, yay! I won't list everything else, but Mom did her usual bang-up job of gifts and gift-wrapping.

Back to the hospital to spend some more time with the old coot, and then I went home and grilled myself a steak. Watched my new DVD's- ok, mostly just my favorite Tom scenes, but I'll watch the whole thing later.

Rick Still Rocks!

So, Sunday night was the Rick Springfield concert. I had been looking forward to it for months, having ordered my ticket the day they went on sale. I used what pitiful amount I got of my tax refund to pay for it, and while I was tempted to order the most expensive seats (which came with the meet & greet before the concert), I restrained myself and ordered the second-tier priced ticket instead.

I got to the Louisville Palace about 30 minutes before the show was supposed to start...and discovered that my seat was in the lower part of the FREAKING BALCONY. I was NOT HAPPY. Not only did I have to climb a zillion stairs, I wasn't going to be close enough to play with Rick if he came out into the audience like he usually does. Then it got worse. My seatmates turned out to be 3 drunk/yappy-happy bimbos with entirely too much perfume on. It was so bad that I had to use my inhaler twice. After the second shot, I went to the ushers and requested that they move either me or them. The lead usher came back with me to see for himself, choked on the one girl's scent, and quickly moved me to a seat on the other side of the balcony in a largely empty area.

The opening act (unusual for Rick- the shows I've seen previously were all Rick and nothing but) was Terri Nunn with Berlin. I have to say I was pleasantly impressed. Terri Nunn has held up beautifully since the early days of her career and looked fantastic. I loved the metallic blue dress and killer black booties she wore. She won the crowd over by praising the gorgeous theater (the Palace *IS* an awesome building) and talking about how friendly everyone was in Louisville as compared to L.A. She & the band performed their best known hits as well as some songs from their new album, which I may go look for.

Brief intermission, then Rick took the stage. Whooo-hooo! One of the best things about the Palace is that there isn't a bad seat in the house as far as hearing goes, and you can pretty well see everything, even if the band looks like ants from above. I'm just resentful that I paid that much money to be stuck in the balcony....yes, I'll be harping on that for a while...

Rick put on his usual awesome show. One song that surprised me was his cover of the Katy Perry song "Roar." I thought it was an okay song when she released it, but IREALLY liked Rick's version. I hope he puts it on an album someday.

So, it was all good until close to the end of the show. Then, during "Don't Talk To Strangers", 3 more drunk chicks who were sitting near me decided that it was wrong for me to be sitting alone, so they came over to dance with me. I got groped and ground on and was considering pitching one of them over the balcony when my usher friend came to my rescue and made them go back to their seats.

The concert ended and I fought my way out of the Palace...only to discover that the bottom had dropped out of the sky. I was parked 3 blocks away at the library and didn't have an umbrella. Bracing myself, I pushed my way through the crowd under the the portico, and started walking. I was soaked through in about 4 steps. LOL. I stopped at the Brown Hotel shelter for a minute to try to clear my glasses and one of the parking valets offered me a towel. He asked if I had just been at the concert and if I had far to go to get home. Yes, I said, and no. It's only about a 10 minute drive to my house, which was why I wasn't worried about being drenched. He laughed and told me to look behind me. I looked back at the theater and saw the huge bottleneck of people milling around, unwilling to get wet. A few brave souls had followed my lead, but it looked like most of the audience was clinging to shelter. "They'll probably still be standing there when you get home!"

My last 2 laughs of the night were both work-related, oddly enough. As I went on to my car, I passed one of our homeless regulars on the corner of 4th & Broadway. He stopped and stared at me, so I said hello to him and kept going. "Hey" he yelled after me. "You can share my tent if you need a place to stay tonight!" I thanked him and said I was ok, but it was kind of him to offer.

Then, just before I got to my car, an officer pulled up beside me. "Woman, don't you have enough sense to come in out of the rain?!?" It was my friend DJ. He asked if I needed a ride, so I pointed to my car, 4 yards away. He waited until I got in and got it started before pulling off, still laughing at me.

After all that, I needed comfort food, so I went home and had a batch of chicken & noodles. And a very long hot shower.

Hopefully I can stay dry when I go see Keb Mo next month!

Squeeee!

I almost forgot that the Rick Springfield concert is Sunday night! Something to look forward to this weekend!

Hey, Hey, They're the Monkees

June 6th was a good day. It had the potential to start off being a bad day- I started a migraine on the 3rd that I STILL have, but rapidly became better. My friends Susan & Linda and I had tickets to go see the Monkees Reunion concert at the Riverbend Pavilion in Cincinnati.

I was supposed to drive since the other girls had arranged for our tickets, but my vision was blurring and I wasn't sure I'd be able to. Susan said she didn't mind driving since she has a GPS, and Linda thought it would be easier to take her car since she has a handicapped plate, so we loaded up at 4:50 and off we went. We were supposed to leave at 4:30, but I got lost trying to find Susan's place. *eyeroll*

We got to the site with very little drama, other than cursing at the occasional moron drivers around us. Linda's plate scored us an excellent parking spot. We didn't stop for food on the way up because our tickets included a cook-out onsite. We should have stopped. What they had was your choice of soggy wieners, bratwurst, or mettwurst; served with potato chips, cole slaw, and/or limp looking macaroni salad. I choked down a bratwurst and chips, Susan & Linda were brave enough to try the salads with their dogs. Then we got to the kicker. The food was "free"...the drinks were not. $5.25 for a 20 oz Coke/Sprite and $5 for a 20 oz Dasani water. We forked out money for one drink apiece and spent half the show dying of thirst.

Anyway, once the show started, nothing else mattered. Peter, Mike, & Micky can still rock with the best of them. Much to my delight, Peter's song "Your Auntie Grizelda" was the second song they performed. It's a silly song, but I love it. They did most of the classics, and while they performed there was a giant video monitor behind them showing clips from the show & their movie HEAD, with Davy prominently featured. One of the last songs to be sung was Daydream Believer, with Micky singing lead in Davy's place...until he handed it over to the audience to sing. On the last repeat of the chorus, Peter screamed for us to sing louder so Davy could hear us and half the women in the audience (me included) started bawling while we sang.

We stopped at a Steak & Shake for dinner on the way home and half the place had been at the concert too. There was an adorable little boy in a Monkee Men suit (the superhero characters they used a few times in season 1)who was thrilled by the number of people who complimented him on his costume.

Anyway, I slept most of the ride home after dinner, and pretty much all day Saturday. The damned migraine is still with me, so I'm trying to get an appointment with my doctor to do something about it...

Dave Barry Rocks!

So, last week I corralled the parents and we went to a library book signing featuring Dave Barry. I had worked an event with him back in my bookstore days, so I knew it would be a good time.

The place was packed. I was lucky enough to order my tickets the day the event was posted online- one of the librarians told me that they'd had to change the venue twice to accommodate the large number of people who wanted to attend. I took 4 hours off from work that day to go. Mom & Dad were supposed to get there early and snag some good seats. We actually got there at the same time, but still got really good seats. They were selling copies of the new book and Mom was kind enough to buy one for me since I was still 9th in line for the library copies and payday wasn't until Friday following the event. Dad took one look at the title- YOU CAN DATE BOYS WHEN YOU'RE FORTY- and told me that I am still not old enough. Hah.

Dave took the "stage" and the laughter started immediately. Here's how funny this man is- my father, who rarely gives more than a dry chuckle at things that amuse him, ACTUALLY LAUGHED OUT LOUD. MORE THAN ONCE. I jokingly told my mother that Dave seemed to be talking to our aside of the room more than the other. She said she thought he was just talking to me because it seemed to her that he was looking right at me most of the show. My friends Susan & Frank, who were seated toward the middle, echoed Mom's theory. (Frank actually stood up for a second to see what was over on the right side, sat back down, looked at Susan and said "Mickey is directly in his path of vision.")

Because I picked our seats toward the right front side of the stage, I wound up being the 6th person in line to get my book signed. I'm not sure if Dave actually remembered me from the bookstore event years earlier or if he just flirted with all the girls, but he grabbed my hand, said "Well, HELLO there" and talked to me for 5 minutes before signing my book....which he made out to "Mickey, the goddess" without any prompting from me. Susan, bless her, snuck up and got a couple of shots of us talking.

All in all, it was a fun evening. And, Dave? If you're ever single again, call me. :-)

Good Memories

Instead of my usual griping, I thought I'd try thinking about good things in my life. Here's a childhood memory for your consideration:

My dad spent most of my life working in the restaurant business. In my younger years, he was often the manager/main cook at steak houses & various family dining places. Which meant poor Daddy had to wear a collared shirt & tie and polished loafers to cook in. (the last restaurant, where he spent 25 years as shift manager/head cook, was a casual place where tennis shoes & t-shirts were acceptable. Boy, was he happy!)

Back to the shoes. We didn't have a budget that allowed for multiple pairs of shoes for anyone in the house, so Dad's shoes got quite a workout. At least once a week, during his rare downtime, Dad would get out the polishing kit, spread out some newspaper, and shine his shoes. I would watch, fascinated, as a pair of grungly looking shoes would turn into something sleek and shiny that looked brand new in his hands.

I got up one Sunday morning, full of piss & vinegar, ready to raise hell. Mom asked me to keep quiet a bit longer. Daddy had come home late the night before and told her he had to go back on what was supposed to be his day off because a cook quit and they couldn't get anyone else in. He'd been working crazy shifts all week and needed any rest he could get.

Well, poop. I was about 8-9 years old. Not known for being a particularly quiet age, right? Mom didn't have time to play with me because she was frantically doing a load of laundry so Dad would have clean clothes for work. This was before the days of mega-cable, so there was little on TV to interest a kid on Sunday morning. We were supposed to go to the library later in the day, so I didn't have much to read.

Then it hit me...Daddy hadn't polished his shoes yet! If Mom was going to let him sleep in, he wouldn't have time to do it before he left for work. I'd watched him do it enough times that I was pretty sure I could do it too. And it was a quiet job! So, left to my own devices, I spread newspaper out under the dining table (as long as I was being quiet & out of the way, why not work in my own little fort?), got the polishing kit out of the cabinet, grabbed the shoes, and went to work.

Mom called out once to see where I was. I said "in my fort!" and that was good enough for her. She knew I wasn't the kind of kid to hide out and drink bleach or do something majorly stupid. Daddy got up and grumbled his way around the house, getting ready for work. He growled something about his shoes and I heard Mom say "Oh, no, I forgot about those. Who's going to be looking at your feet anyway?"

Dad growled a little louder. "Don't care how they look right now. WHERE ARE THEY?!?"

Ulp. It's showtime! "I've got them, Daddy."

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

Mom lifted the edge of the tablecloth to reveal me. I silently passed the shoes out to them, hoping I'd done a good enough job.

" What the...." Silence. Uh-oh. The tablecloth lifted again and my dad peered in at me. "Boy (his nickname for me), get out here."

I crawled out. Both of my parents were staring at Dad's shoes in astonishment. "Did you do this."

*swallow* "Y-y-y-yes, sir."

"I'll be dipped!" Daddy rarely swore. "Thank you. Did a real nice job on those! Looks like I'd done it myself!" Then he hugged me.

Whew! I wasn't in trouble! Mom asked me how I knew what to do and I told her that I always watched Daddy do it, so I just did what I'd seen him do...only in my fort instead of on the table. Then I saw the look of panic in her eyes and heard my dad snicker. I realized she was wondering what kind of unholy mess I'd probably created, and quickly said that I'd put newspaper down first. Daddy kissed us both goodbye and told Mom not to be hard on me if I'd made a mess. He left, Mom heaved a sigh and knelt down to see what kind of damage I'd done. Imagine her surprise to discover that the worst of the mess was on me!(and more easily washable) "Wait a minute, and I'll clean it up, Mommy."

Just like my dad, I closed the tin of polish and made sure the lid was tight. I folded the buffer rags and tucked everything into the kit. I carefully folded the paper so no polish got on the carpet or furniture and took everything to the kitchen. The polish kit went back in the cabinet, the paper went in the trash, and my mom almost cried. "That was a very sweet thing for you to do for your daddy. And cleaning it up was a sweet thing to do for me. If you'll go take a quick bath, I think we might have time to get some ice cream before we go to the library."

And we did! (Baskin Robbins coffee in a sugar cone- my favorite at the time. Yes, I was an odd child)

For some time after that, polishing Daddy's shoes every week became my job. I don't know why I enjoyed it so much, but I always liked doing it. And Daddy would always look at my finished handiwork and tell me it looked as good as if he'd done it himself...

Firsts of the year!

First person spoken to: Mom

First thing to drink: iced coffee

First thing to eat: bowl of Corn Chex w/sugar

First thing cooked: Chuck steak on Foreman grill

First contemplated purchase: a new Foreman grill (because my current one has about had it)

First actual purchase: box of Immodium (damn meds have a new side effect)

First website visited: Facebook

First game played: Bubble Witch Saga

First book read: Cat Vs Human- Another Dose of Catnip

First DVD watched: Blackadder the 3rd

First "responsible adult" activity: balanced the checkbook (and winced to see that I've been spending money like a drunken sailor)

First household chore: Washed sinkful of dishes that accumulated over the last 10 days or so. ( What?!? I live alone, so it's not like I'll run out of dishes. I tend to run out of silverware first)

First person to get a hug: My friend Trey

First person to get sworn at: The idiot in front of me on the way to work who signaled a left turn, turned right, and then drove at 10 m.p.h. while reading text messages on his phone

First phone call answered at work: Officer who didn't know his name would come up on caller ID and freaked out when I called him by name.

First blog post: done!

It's Hug An Australian Day!

Yes, it's real... and I'm very lucky in that one of our resident department hunks just happens to be the man formerly known as Outback Jack on an early Bachelor-style show. (I also have him on speed dial) So here's a look at my sweet friend Vadim, aka the Aussie I got to hug today:

 from the TV show  his official department photo

And, just because I couldn't resist, here's a look at another Aussie I have been lucky enough to hug on several occasions:


 80's Rick  more recent Rick


And last, but by no means least, one I would love to get my hands on:

 mmmm, Hugh

Adventures in Daddy Sitting

OMG. Took the old man out to lunch yesterday. Told my father I’d be there at 1230 to pick him up for lunch. I walked in the door at 1230 on the dot and he looks at me. “Family Feud just started.” I don’t care- I told you what time I was picking you up. let’s go. “But I like Steve Harvey.” So do I, but I’ve got to go to work today, so let’s move it.




Finally got him in the car. Get to Golden Corral and it’s Old Fart Jubilee. It was almost 1 by the time we got there and that’s when the senior discount starts, so every old person in town was standing in the doorway, waiting. We almost got run down in the parking lot by 3 different old ladies with oxygen tanks. I finally pushed my way through the crowd, dragging Dad behind me, and then the cashier wanted to argue with us. “I’m trying to save you money- the discount starts in 5 minutes.” Yeah, well I appreciate that, but I have to go to work sometime today and the $2 off isn’t worth waiting behind a bunch of crusties.



The food was decent for a change, at least. Dad got a giggle out of the fact that Sister Bertha-better-than-you and Sister Mary-minds-everyone’s-business-but-her-own were at the table next to us and starting talking loudly about old fools with young tramps. I finally turned around and said to them “You know, I agree. It’s funny though that people think I’m one of those types every time I take my dad here out to lunch. I mean, I always thought I looked enough like him that it was pretty clear he’s my actual daddy, not a sugar daddy.” They shut up in a hurry, the old man at the next table over started howling with laughter. “You tell them, honey!”

Oh, Happy Day!

I was feeling sorry for myself because I stayed up way too late and had to work an OT shift today. Then I logged into my Google Reader and discovered that I won the book pictured above from a contest on Stacey Ballis's blog. (http://thepolymathchronicles.blogspot.com/)

Combine that with a couple of new stitchy magazines, a quiet office, Girl Scout Cookies, a vat of iced coffee, and a deli sandwich delivered by one of my favorite officers (I actually do like a lot of them, despite my bitching, and not just because they do things like this) and this has turned into a fairly decent day!

Hope you're having a lovely weekend...

Because sometimes it's not all about you...

When I was in high school, our student council would take donations and adopt families via the Salvation Army for the holidays. Because the money was coming from students, it meant lots of loose change and I got quite adept at rolling the stuff. (a skill that still comes in handy) The SU advisor would tally up our collection and work with the SA to get as many families as we could provide a happy holiday for as possible. I always enjoyed working on that project, and my senior year was head of the fundraising committee. We raised enough for 25 families (a school record that still stands!) and it took 3 days of shopping and 3 days to make the deliveries.

I lost the habit of helping others after high school. Well, sort of lost. I would always stop and throw a few items in the canned food collection at the grocery store when I came across one, and I always dig into my pocket for donations to the Salvation Army bell ringers.

One year, working at Books-A-Million, I begged and pleaded with my coworkers to chip in and adopt a child from the Salvation Army. It took the addition of a prize of the homemade goodie of the winner's choice to get them to donate, but we collected $75 and I threw in $50 of my own and we got a teenage girl most of her wishlist. Our district manager won the raffle (I had no shame and hit up everyone for donations- got him on a random visit) and gave his prize to the bell ringer stationed at our store. (chocolate chip cookies if I remember correctly...)

After moving to Louisville, the independent bookstore where I worked collected books for various children's charities for the holidays. Well, of course I'm going to buy books for kids. EVERYONE should have books that wants them is one of my personal mottoes. And I continued to support food drives.

Then I started working for LMPD. The first year, I suggested to my coworkers that we adopt a child or do some other civic minded project. Louisville had lots of Hurricane Katrina refugees, so we contacted one of the shelters and adopted a displaced mother & son. My coworkers were all for the idea until it came time to contribute, and then it was like pulling teeth. It took pleading and a collection jar on the counter for the officers to help out, and even then my colleague J & I wound up putting in more of our own money than originally intended. But it was worth every dime and bit of stress to be able to fulfill their "needs" list and throw in quite a few "wants" as well. (Turns out that J & I were both power bargain shoppers)

After that experience, I decided not to bother with my coworkers any more. I try to adopt at least one kid a year, usually an older child because they often get overlooked. I still give to food drives, book drives, and for the last few years adopted a senior citizen from the giving tree at Wal-mart in honor of my late Gramma. Last year, instead of presents for my ingrate coworkers, I donated the money I would have spent on them to the food bank and to the First Reads program and plan to do it again this year.

This year, the department sent out an email from one of the children's home asking for help giving their kids a happy holiday. My parents & I had planned to do one anyway, so I requested one. Then, in a moment of insanity unbridled enthusiasm, I requested one for the office. I sent out a plea for donations, but expected to cover most of it myself. Much to my surprise, I got an overwhelmingly (for this place) positive response. Even better, I got actual cash from half my coworkers and the management! 

Mom went shopping with me and we had a blast. We bought tons of clothing and gift items for both of the 'angels' and still had money left. So, with the blessing of the home & my fellow donators, I bought an assortment of random clothing & gifts for the home to distribute as needed. We even had enough to throw in some gift wrapping supplies!

Reading back over this, it sounds like I'm blowing my own horn. That's not how I intended this piece to sound. I wanted to show that even in these days of excess, there are people out there who don't have it as good as most of us. Even the smallest donation can make an impact on someone's life. It's not about having the newest and flashiest gadgets, designer clothes, and biggest house. It's not about how cool you appear to be, because if you can't take a few minutes or spare a few dollars to help someone else, you're not that cool. We just helped make a 13 year old girl and a 12 year old boy feel like they're important enough for someone to care about them. They don't know who my coworkers, parents, & I are. They don't need to, because it's not about us. It's about THEM.

And you know what? That makes ME feel pretty darn good...

Nerd Cred- I Haz It!

Well, I just impressed a Sgt with my nerd credentials. LOL. I was putting in his evidence and we found a pair of dice mixed in with the drug paraphernalia. So I listed them as 6 sided dice. When I handed him the receipt at the end, he looked it over and started laughing. “Well, of course they’re 6 sided. All dice are.”



I looked him straight in the eye and said “You never played Dungeons & Dragons as a kid, did you?” Then I pulled up Google Images to show him the myriad types of gaming dice there are. His eyes got big and he shook his head.



“Just when I think I know you, you go and throw something new at me. Damn, girl.”

Wait until I tell him about my sword...

 If I was still gaming, I'd love a set of these steampunk dice.  

This is sort of what my default set looked like.    This is a fair idea of what my dice bag looked like when spilled across the table. Only most of mine were purple & black. Surprised?

Thanks again to Google Images for the pictures.

Concert tales 4: Saliva

I like the band Saliva, despite their name. They're a good, hard rocking bunch, and I've seen them in concert several times. The most memorable was the year they played the KY State Fair with Z Z Top. I had debated going to the show- I didn't have anyone to go with, it wasn't one of the 'free' shows, and as I've mentioned before, crowds are not a good place for me to be. Fair traffic sucks, so I'd have my driving induced Tourette's syndrome to cope with as well. But then I realized it might be my last chance to see Z Z Top- let's face it, those dudes weren't/aren't getting any younger- and when I heard that Saliva (really? not what I would have expected but, ok) was the opening act, I was in. Bought a ticket for the nosebleed seats and went, hoping for the best.


The section I wound up in wasn't densely seated. I was glad I hadn't sprung for a floor seat- they were packed in like sardines. It was me and a few older, half drunk rednecks. Like the Garth show, I got some strange looks, but was left alone. Unlike the Garth show, no drunk Bubba decided to razz me.

Saliva came on and a handful of the younger crowd on the floor tried to rock out with them. The problem was, most of them were so far back, and there were so few of them, that the band couldn't tell they were there. The older fans who were there for the Top were just staring blankly at this rowdy metal-esque band on stage and wondering WHO they were and WHY THE HELL they were onstage. This included most of the people near me, who had gone from sideways looks to outright staring as I became a one woman mosh pit in my seat.

Midway through the show, as Josey Scott (the lead singer) tried to engage the crowd, there was a lighting malfunction. All the lights came up and the band could clearly see the less than thrilled crowd before them. The lights were hastily dimmed again, except for one area up in the nosebleed seats. Guess who basically had a spotlight? Yep.

What did I do? Lost my mind, stood up, and started dancing along with the song they segued into. The song ended, and Josey said, "Well, at least we've got one fan out there!" before pointing up at me. I blew him a kiss and then the lone dancing fool sat down. 


I was telling that story at work the next day. One of the beer deliverymen (I was working in a liquor store then) stopped in his tracks. "THAT WAS YOU?" He said his buddy had seen me dancing and pointed me out to him, but I was far enough away that he couldn't see my face. His friend was amazed that the one non-caucasian person they'd seen at the show was head banging. I don't know why, music is supposed to be universal, right?

Concert tales, part 3: Duran Duran

Christmas 2004- My mother bought me one of the best Christmas presents ever. Duran Duran announced the tour for their Astronaut album and they were coming to Louisville in 2005! Mom got me a 3rd row seat!



Oh, was I ready for this! 20+ years of fandom and I was FINALLY getting to see Simon Le Bon live and in person. 3rd Row? Whooohooooo!

Looking around the auditorium, I realized I was the only woman in the Old Queens with Young Boyfriends section. Not a problem. It might get me noticed. (it did- explanation coming up in a minute) I started chatting with some of my seatmates during the opening act and it was like we were all old friends by the time Simon & the boys hit the stage.

I shrieked, I danced, I sang, I hugged every gay man in Louisville. Then the band launched into "Save A Prayer." Simon said that in the old days, he used to look out and see a sea of cigarette lighters burning in the crowd when they did that song. "But since nobody smokes anymore, RIGHT? Just hold up your cell phones or whatever you've got that lights up." *I* was prepared & had a lighter.

The song ended and Simon was cracking up. "I saw real lighters! Not many, but there were some! Turn the lights on, I want to see the brave souls who had them!" OMG. The boys around me all screamed "Get that thing up in the air, girl!" and helped me stand on my seat so Simon would see me/us. And he did, after he'd pointed out a few on the other side and in the balcony. "BLOODY HELL, Love, are you THEIR date?!?" (seriously, I had six gay men holding me up)

Catch me lest I faint. SIMON BLOODY LeBON IS TALKING TO ME!!! The paralysis that hit when I met Rick Springfield was on vacation that night. I screamed back, "No, but I can be YOURS!" John Taylor started laughing. "Don't encourage him!" "WHY NOT?!?"

Sadly, I didn't get backstage after that show, and that was the last I got to speak to him, but that memory will live with me forever!

Fat people & canoes

My mother is constantly coming up with things she'd like for us to do. My father & I are a little less-than-thrilled with most of these ideas, but every now & then I/we give in and go on an adventure. Such was the case last Saturday.

Urban Wilderness Canoe Adventures was doing free canoe trips on the Ohio River. Mom saw a story about it in the paper and decided this was exactly what we needed. Uh, right. Dad just laughed, but I agreed to go, thinking she'd lose interest or forget about it. Imagine my surprise when she emailed me the confirmation & list of suggested supplies for the trip. (sunscreen, lip balm, etc) Imagine my delight when I saw the forecast for the weekend was cold & rainy. The trips were only being put off in the event of storms, not simple rain. Ugh.

Saturday rolled around and the first miracle happened. The day started out fairly chilly, but the sun was out and not a cloud in sight. We were scheduled for the 12:45 trip and it had warmed up a good bit by the time we set out. Mom picked me up early and we went to Panera for lunch beforehand. Despite the urge to eat sweets from the bakery side, we were good and had protein packed sandwiches, thinking we might need the energy for the trip.

Second miracle- we found the park that the trip was starting from with no trouble. Anyone who remembers my descriptions of previous trips ANYWHERE with my mother will understand why I regarded this as a miracle. We had some time to kill before the trip, and decided it would be a good idea to hit the loo before going out in a small boat for who-knows-how-long.

The park bathrooms were in a little structure designed to look like it was going to fall over at any second. The door locks didn't work, the lights weren't working, and the toilets were METAL. COLD METAL- it hadn't warmed up THAT much. Nobody got stuck or walked in on, thankfully.

We made our way down the hill to the launch area. I was kind of expecting our fellow travelers to be a pack of  rich snots from the snooty areas of town. Instead, we had a fairly diverse group, mostly black & Hispanic, and quite a few kids. One little guy, about 3 years old, looked quite dubious about the whole thing, but when I saw him later, on the river, he seemed to be having a blast.

We were fitted for life jackets & paddles and given a briefing on what to do if someone falls into the river (nobody did) and on how to paddle. Then it was time to load up and hit the water. Each canoe held 9 adult sized guests & 1 tour guide. (our boat had 9. the other two had the kids divided up and had 10-12 people plus a guide) Mom & I asked to sit in the middle. We figured we were probably the heaviest on the boat so it made more sense to have us there to keep the weight balanced, plus the seats were wide enough for us to sit together. Getting in wasn't so bad. There was even enough room for my long legs!

Quick note on the canoes- they weren't the traditional canoes with sloping bottoms where you sat single file. These were custom built for groups, so passengers could sit 2-3 abreast, and had flat bottoms. Our guide told us that they were individually hand-crafted from reclaimed wood for their company and cost $4-6K each. Dillon, our guide, turned out to be from North Dakota so my ND-born mother was thrilled to chat with him about "home."

We started off paddling upstream, against the current. It was much easier than expected, especially once we worked out a rhythm to keep everyone paddling in sync. Well, mostly in sync. I always thought of the Ohio River as being fairly dirty & polluted, but the area we were in was quite clean & pleasant. The highlight of the ride was seeing several blue herons in flight. They skimmed over the water to sit on the shore and watch us.

I managed to paddle most of the way out & back. My back started spasming about halfway out, and my knees ached in sympathy. But I held on and was rather proud of myself for doing it. The trip back downstream was much easier, since we were going with the current. Then came the tricky part- Getting OUT of the canoe. It wasn't pretty or graceful, but I managed to finally lever myself up & out without hurting the guides who were trying to help me, tipping the canoe, or knocking Mom overboard. We limped back up the hill to turn in our paddles & life jackets and chatted with the city councilman & park representative whose offices sponsored the event. Mom exchanged contact info with 2 ladies from our canoe who worked for a non-profit organziation and were looking for volunteers. 

The third and greatest miracle? I was in a good bit of pain by the time I got home. Mom & I went shopping & had dinner at one of our favorite Chinese restaurants before she dropped me off. I took some aspirin (since my doctor refuses to give me REAL pain medication for my back) and a long nap. I woke up and staggered out to the living room...and then realized that I wasn't in nearly as much pain as I thought I would be. Then I thought, "oh, it'll hit me tomorrow." It didn't. I was fine! Well, as fine as I get.

So, despite the fact that fat people with bad backs & knees should probably NOT go canoeing, I had a really good time. They said they were coming back next year. We're going to keep our eyes out for that and go again!

Concert Tales, part 2: Rick Springfield

As big a Rick Springfield fan as I am, I didn't get to see the man in concert until I was in my 30's. I found out he was coming to play at the casino close to my house, and I knew I was going one way or another. I got my ticket late, but I got one. I was in Row L, which turned out to be about halfway back in the ballroom where the show was staged, and I had a pretty good view.

I had suffered a rather serious knee injury a few months before the concert. (first of many) It was much better, but I wasn't going to be rushing the stage or anything like that. I still had a bit of a limp, and I decided that it might be a good idea to wear my knee brace. (yep)

Well, Rick hit the stage and the place exploded. I had worried that age might have slowed him down and the show might not be that exciting....and my worries were in vain. He bounced around that stage like a teenager on Red Bull, and put on a kick ass show...and like several other performers I've seen, he likes to interact with his fans. Teasing from the stage, inviting fans onstage, and jumping out into the audience...and wading through.

Yep. He made it back to Row K, in the middle, directly in front of me. And I froze. The man I had lusted after since I was 12 years old was less than 6 inches from me and I couldn't even reach out to touch him, I was in so much shock. The crowd was pressing in, and I felt my knee start to give, so I sat down and just gazed up at Rick...who suddenly looked down at me and smiled, before heading back toward the stage.

I thought that was the high point of my life. Not yet, it wasn't. The concert ended, and while a few people lingered in the hopes of an encore, or at least a final Rick sighting, most of the crowd rushed for the doors. I wan't in a hurry, and my knee hurt, so I stayed in my seat to let things thin out. Then I heard a voice say "Miss, are you ok?"

No, it wasn't Rick. It was a security guard. I explained about my knee and that I was waiting for the crowd to thin out and he said, "Oh, that makes sense. Come with me and I'll take you out the back way. No crowd at all." Before I knew what was happening, I was being escorted BACKSTAGE. I saw several members of the band milling about and then I heard "Oh, good, you found her!"

THAT was Rick. He told me he got a little worried when he saw me sit down so suddenly (HE NOTICED ME?!?), so when someone mentioned a girl sitting alone in the middle of the theater, he asked them to go check on me. I think I managed to carry on a reasonably intelligent conversation with him for the minute or two that I got with him. Once he knew I was ok, he had to rush off, but I got a hug and kiss before he left.

I've seen him several times since then. I've always managed to get in sections where he comes into the crowd, only now I reach out like all the rest. And he almost always grabs my hand, grins at me & says hi. He played at the KY State Fair and one of my officer friends got me backstage long enough for a hug and a hi.

Up next...my other long term crush!

Concert tales, part 1: Garth Brooks & Michael Bolton

So, back in the early 90's, my then-best friend (who for the remainder of the story will be referred to as Susan) &; I spent a lot of time hanging out on the pro-wrestling circuit. (more on that another time)At the time, most shows were sponsored by the country radio stations in whatever city the guys were performing in, so of course country is what got played before shows & during intermission. I hated country music....well most of it. But then they started playing this song that never failed to crack us up when we heard it.

"Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots...."

Oh yeah. it didn't take us long to learn the words, and we never failed to sing along (loudly and usually off-key) whenver we heard it. In fact, we made a point of finding out who the singer was (Garth Brooks and if you didn't guess that between the lyrics and the title of this post, shame on you)  and buying his cassette tape. (like said, this was back in the Dark Ages- LOL) At first we only listened to that song, over and over. Then we got curious and listened to the rest of the album. And then we bought his next album.

Then, oh glory be, he released his concert schedule...we lived in Chapel Hill NC at the time, and lo & behold....he was coming to our town! We HAD to go, right? Right. Bought our tickets, told everyone we knew that we were going, and couldn't contain our excitement as the date drew nearer. Others did not share our euphoria. As you may be aware, (or possibly not, I'm not sure if it's come up in blog posts before) I am 6 ft of robustly curvy auburn haired biracial Amazonian goodness. While I get mistaken for Hispanic, Samoan, and other ethnicities, I can in no way be mistaken for white. Susan was an about 5'8, even more robustly curvy, darker skinned black girl. Her mother & extended family thought we were nuts. My family, when told our plans, just said "That's nice." Her family thought we were going into redneck hell and about to be lynched. (they should have seen some of the wrestling ahows we went to- we were in more danger there)

Off we went to the concert. I'm bouncing up and down in glee. Susan, whose mother had sent us off with an earful of dire predictions, was looking around the crowd, nervously. "Mickey," she finally whispered, "I think we're the only niggers here."

"So?"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I think we should go home."

"We paid a lot of money for these tickets. I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE. I won't bother anyone as long as they don't bother me." (One of my life rules, as grammatically incorrect as it may be is "Don't start none, won't be none.")

She reluctantly agreed we should stay, and I promised we'd go if any trouble started. We got some odd looks from other concert goers, but nobody was hostile...at first. After the opening act (Martina McBride on her first tour) ended, a drunk guy about 2 rows up turned around for some reason, saw us, and commenced to talking a whole pile of crap about "what niggers are doing here" and so on. Susan, who knew my temper, grabbed my arm and said "Ok, you promised, let's go."

Before I could say a word, the VERY large man behind us stood up. This guy was probably about 6'6, built like a linebacker, wearing a confedrate flag shirt, and even I was a little nervous when he first came in. He reached down, snatched the mouthy drunk out of his seat, lifted him to his eye level and growled "Those girls ain't bothering nobody. Now siddown and SHUT UP before I send you to the front row the hard way." (We were just below the nosebleed section) Not another peep was heard the rest of the show. I offered to buy the nice man a drink and he laughingly declined but bought US drinks and said if we were cool enough to be there, he was glad to meet us. He also walked us out at the end of the night just in case Drunk Boy loitered with intent. (He didn't)

The concert was great, BTW. Garth puts on a hell of a show. I've seen him several times since then.


The other concert Susan talked me into was Michael Bolton. I know I've mentioned my eclectic musical tastes. Susan didn't listen to quite the same range, but had some varied taste. Our birthdays were only a few days apart, and MB was playing in Raleigh the week before them. My mother bought the tickets for us as a present. Now, it may not be cool to be a Bolton fan, but I have to admit I like some of his early work. This was the Time, Love, & Tenderness tour.

So we went and were probably the youngest women in the section we had seats in. The place was a sea of estrogen. Bolton came on and put on a very entertaining show. then there was an intermission. as the break ended, music started and Michael could be heard singing...but wasn't onstage. Then all hell broke loose. He had a cordless mike and was walking through the crowd. The audience finally figured it out...right about the time he got to our section. 5 million middle aged women lost their minds and tried to cram themselves collectively into 3 rows of seats. MB realized he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and climbed up on a chair to finish the song. "Georgia on my Mind", if you were wondering. The man was about 6 inches away from us. Sue was swooning.

I, on the other hand, was getting punchy becasue of the crowd pressing in on us. Throwing my hands in the air, I screamed at my friend "WHY did I let you talk me into this?!?" Wouldn't you know, Michael Bolton thought I was reaching out to him, so he grabbed my hand and held it through the rest of the song. Arrgh. Sue was pissed that it was me and not her.

What I didn't know was that a photograhper from the local paper was there and captured that stunning moment on film. I found that out the next day when several of my 'hipster' friends called me in hysterics, laughing because I was on the front page of the entertainment section holding hands with Michael Bolton. My mother called later to tell me that not only had she & Dad seen it, one of Dad's coworkers came up to him with a copy of the article and said " Is that your daughter?" My dear old Dad, without batting an eye, said "Does she have clothes on?" (another story to be explained later)

You can't take me anywhere.....