Tag Archives: it’s my party

Thanks for the Memories

I saw Duran Duran’s live concert on Friday. I have been excited and nervous about this for several months now. When I announced to my boss and my coworker that I was one of the lucky people with tickets to the sold out show, they said, “That’s embarrassing.” I LOL’ed. “No. We mean it. Don’t tell anybody!”

That’s the problem with a band called “The Pretties Boys in Rock” during the 80s when they were super popular. The magazines called them The Fab Five. And I remember arguing with my girlfriends who was the best looking. My favorite has always been Nick Rhodes. What can I say? I have a thing for guys with mascaras. Except Clockwork Orange… The other girls would always come back with John Taylor. Oh yes. That man (boy?) was gorgeous, with a square jaw that was perfectly chiseled. It makes you shiver just thinking about it. Curiously it was never Simon. Just seemed to be too obvious an answer to claim that your fav is the lead singer. Duh. Ho-hum. So we continued to fight between the Bass guitarist and the keyboardist.

I was apprehensive also because, well, I am a realist. How often when you are reunited with your childhood love do you find that present reality matches up to the memories you have been keeping in a vault?

When I got to Chicago Theatre, it became clear to me that I was not the only one there to relive my youth. I have never seen so many middle-aged women dressed “correctly” for a rock concert in one place. The ladies knew why they were there and they came prepared. There were so many women dressed in their rock regalia, complete with black stockings, chokers, pink (or purple or whatever) hair, and tattoos. Lots of tattoos. Almost everyone was wearing boots. I even saw a pink boa.

What would their teenage daughters have said?… 

It was kickass and uplifting. Fuck those young girls who think WE should behave OUR age. But it was also depressing at the same time. I know I know. I have issues. But it made me sad to reflect on why I was there. To relive my youth. To grasp at something that was not there any more.

Fortunately I very quickly consumed four cran-vodkas and I was my ol’ spunky self again. (You’ve got to know I am being a bit sarcastic about the whole being spunky part…)

If you just google, you will see that Duran Duran has fully embraced the 21st century and social media, and that means they are all over Twitter. Not only was live Twitter stream with the hashtag DuranLive projected on the screen before the show started, in the middle of the show, there was an official Twitter session!

Nick, can I wear your red scarf for 5 seconds? #duranlive

Someone tweeted the girl in front of me is crazy. Am gonna assume that’s not me since im no longer a girl #duranlive

 

In the end, it was awesome. It was awesome not because they reminded me of the gorgeous boys that they once were. I am not saying they are not handsome any more. They still are. If you’re born with great bone structures, unless you totally fucked yourself up with drug and alcohol, time will be kinder to you than to the rest of us. John Taylor for one is still rocking that square jaw. *shiver* And of course, I swear to god, even from the back of the theatre, I could see Nick with his mascaraed eyes and his red scarf being all fabulous and sexy. They put on a great show with great energies, and boy, can Simon sing. In fact, I came home and watched some of their old performances from the 1980s, and I think Simon sings even better now. There is experience in his voice and performance. Like matured wine. Yum. And John can still rock that bass. And Nick… Well. Nick lives forever. (You’ve got to allow me to retain some shameless teenage fangirl crushing…)

Of course, knowing most of the lyrics and being able to sing along made this an even more awesome night. I was glad I went and lived through some time-space discontinuum phenon: It’s surreal to see your band crush perform live on stage, even if there was a 25-plus-year time gap.

For one night the crowd shared a communal experience. We sang. We danced. We screamed. We partied with our teenage selves.

(And in my usual, annoying way, I have to add this:) Then we went back to our normal lives. Most likely in the suburbs. Hopefully this stays with us a bit longer…

Her name is Rio and she dances on the sand
Just like that river twisting through a dusty land
And when she shines she really shows you all she can
Oh Rio, Rio dance across the Rio Grande

 

Pictures of poor quality below and video compilation of even poorer quality after the jump.

 

Vegas Baby

Anybody interested in listening to more of my drunken tales? This time in Vegas?

Well, no matter. I need to write this all down so I can relive my glory days when I am in my 80s… I sure do hope the Interwebs are still going strong “50” years from now…

We had never been on a vacation without the kids in tow until this past weekend. And thank goodness we did not have our kids with us. Otherwise The Husband would not be able to check out the top-optional swimming pool at our hotel.

TOPTIONAL.

That is the new word I learned from my trip there. Don’t you just love Vegas?

I am leaving on an early flight to NYC this morning, and I need at least 2 hours of shuteye since I have been sustaining on minimum sleep since we came back from Vegas.  Therefore I will be brief, (and you all know “brief” is a relative term when you are dealing with someone who is borderline Narcissistic when they are talking about themselves…) I will make a list of things I can still remember as the massive amount of alcohol finally found its way out of my system.

1. It actually was not that startling to have a woman turn around and you found yourself face to face (?) with her boobs. Well, I am not a straight man so I cannot speak for them. For me, it was kind of natural anyway. Anti-climatic almost.

2. Young boobs are perky. Either that, or all these girls all have had boob jobs. Once you pass 30 though, your boobs start drooping. So enjoy them while you can. Or start saving money.

3. Older, trim and fit women’s boobs even if they do drape a little do not bother me at all. Yes, the young women next to me exclaimed quietly, “Ewww.” I so wanted to tell them, “Let’s see what yours look like when you hit her age.”

4. Men are hilarious when they pretend they are not looking. Ladies, you know what I am talking about.

5. This is a note to the girl who was competing against her (former?) best friend for the same young man’s attention: Taking off your bras somehow did not work, eh? Your friend put hers back on pretty quickly and guess what? The young man continued to talk to her while your boobs were bouncing up and down in the background. I am sorry. Next time, don’t try so hard. And I hope your (former?) best friend forgive you for trying to upstage her the second you got into the pool.

6. People watching is a lot more fun when it is TOPTIONAL.

7. In Vegas, Adult Shows mean TOPLESS. Duh.

8. Those boobs on stage are no larger than yours and oh my goodness they do not stand up like “Boing!” the way porn industry makes you think they do. They droop, a bit. Naturally. Due to gravity. They fucking droop. And they all look gorgeous. You chuckle at yourself because who would have thought that you’d found affirmation at the show Fantasy? 

9. It is a brilliant idea to get well buzzed before you head down to the night club so you don’t spend all your money on those over-priced drinks.

10. Chuck Liddell is apparently somebody famous.  (You found that out when the security personnel told you off “Please stop taking pictures!” even though you were taking pictures of the go go dancer). More importantly, he apparently can crush you with his bare hands, according to your husband, after you obnoxiously yelled Chuck Chuck Chuck! And your husband is no fun because you really want to say to Chuck, “Chuck, Asia loves you!” – a bold faced lie of course. But you are so drunk you could not fucking care.

11. You say and then yell some variation of “I am so drunk I cannot fucking care” throughout the night.

12. You don’t mind going and waiting in line at the bar because you are so drunk… yeah, and you keep on talking to random strangers.

Some young man asks whether you’d mind if he cuts in line to get some water from the bartender. You say, “You are so cute. Go right ahead.” While you are waiting, you ask him, “What’s wrong with you that you are drinking water? Are you Mormon or something?” He mimes giving you a pamphlet, and you laugh and tell him that your son sprinkles you with holy water as a joke. To which, the very nice young man feigns surprise, “You have a son?! Impossible. You look about 21!” Of course you thank him, “I will buy you any drink you want!” When you ask the bartender to give the young man a glass of water, the young man says, “I want to marry you right here right now.” You think, “Too bad he’s gay, and of course, I am married.” Then you send him off to have a great time “because that’s what young people are supposed to do!”

13. When you go back to the bar the 3rd time, you strike up a conversation with a nice gentleman from Hawaii who is a boxing club manager and whose fighters finally get invited to Las Vegas. In the middle of your conversation, you say to him, “Well, I just don’t want to see white people ruin Hawaii.” He bursts out laughing and tells you “You are real.” So of course you have to buy him a drink. And guess what he orders at the bar after the long wait? Pineapple juice. Yup.

14. So yeah, and then there is the part about you getting kissed by a girl. Twice.

15. Your husband actually got a picture as proof.

16. Maybe that was why he was not mad at all even when you dropped his Crackberry into the swimming pool.

 

 

Reporting, live (kind of), from the Hometown Fest

July 2nd.

The party goes on…

Happy Birthday to Lindsay Lohan and Larry David. They should hang out together more.

Happy birthday to Hermann Hesse. To this day I am sometimes still Emil Sinclair looking/waiting for my (inner) Max Demian. Thanks a lot, man.

.

.

The following is my entry for this year’s Pulitzer Prize. As Bob “Elvis” West says, Thank you. Thank you very much.

Announcing: Birthday Month Extravaganza!

I never ever got to celebrate my birthday in style. In fact, I have the urge to dig a hole and bury my head in it when my birthday is approaching, not because I dread getting one year older but that I worry about being disappointed.

I am disappointed every year. That is why I am all nonchalant about the whole birthday thing.

I turned 40 last July. Yup. Missed the opportunity to make a big to-do out of mah birthday. But this year? This year is going to be different. This year I have a blog. And it is my blog, I’ll have an extravaganza if I want to.

So are you ready, Loren Sorenson?  You and I are going to party every day in July. Every Single Fucking Day. Heehaw!

.

July 1st.

There is a lot to celebrate on July 1st.

Happy Birthday, Scary Mommy!

Happy Birthday, Estee Lauder, Sydney Pollack (RIP my good sir!), Dan Aykroyd, Liv Tyler, and one Pamela Anderson.

Happy happy day to my company and everybody who has paid their dues slaving away there!

Happy Some-Significant-Day to one of my favorite peoples in the world. Happy Canada Day!

(warning: I am not responsible if you cannot get the catchy tune out of your head)

.

.

What is an extravaganza if we do not start it off with a bang?! What better way to start off any celebration than a Hometown Fest Carnival**? Complete with an Elvis Impersonator named Bob Elvis West?

Every Fourth of July weekend, I am forced to admit that No, we do not live in Chicago. We live in the Midwest, y’all. We live in a down-to-earth Midwestern town where all the blonde people with cigarettes hanging out the corners of their mouths seem to congregate at the carnival.

July truly is my lucky month because tonight, all the carnival people were very nice to me. I’d like to think it’s because I said thank you and please.

I went on some of the not-so-scary rides with the boys, and boy, the scariest of them all was the rotating bears in the ride called Bear Affair. (I can’t even make this shit up!) Mr. Monk had a great time making the bear we were riding in rotate at the speed of light by maniacally turning the table in the center. I became so dizzy that I had to close my eyes, leaning against Mr. Bear’s steely hollow body. It felt like being drunk but I didn’t have a single drop of alcohol tonight. I was high without any assistance. Yes, I have the ability to self-medicate. That’s one of my Secret Super Powers, peeps.

I put my hands up when we were on one of the rides that does nothing but go around and around really fast, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise. I screamed like a MoFo. It felt good. It felt really good. Later when Mr. Monk asked to get on the same ride again, I did not protest too much. Half way through the ride, some of the children were yelling loudly at the carnival worker, “Music please!” since earlier the ride was quite popular exactly because it was blasting all the popular teenybopper songs that every other child seemed to be lip-syncing to. I joined in loudly, “Music please! We want some Justin Beaver!” The kids sitting in front of me turned around with astonished looks and immediately, smiles. Yeah, right at that moment, we connected: me and two 10-year-olds. As we sped past by the control booth, I yelled louder, “FREE BIRD!”, and for safe measure, gave him the Hang Loose hand sign.

I did that every time I flew by the control booth. I did that again as he let me out of the exit.

My kids did not seem to notice my high spirits and odd behaviors because they themselves were psyched by the carnival. They were not embarrassed by me which in itself was a blessing.

It was a cool and cloudless night. A perfect evening. And we got a perfect ending for it to boot: As we made our way back to the car, we noticed the canopy of stars.

“Look! That’s the Big Dipper!” My 12-year-old shouted. Sure ’nuff the seven stars were right above us, clear as day, in the formation of a, eh, big dipper. It is July after all when the night sky is dominated by the Big Dipper.

What we saw tonight, exactly like this

.

Is my birthday month awesome or what? Prepare to see unicorns, y’all!

** I’ve got pictures. This entire month is going to be picture-rich because I have decided to give myself a hobby… Damn it. Everybody needs a hobby and I am tired of writing down “reading, listening to music and going to the movies”. LAME-O! I will post the pictures tomorrow, which is today, which is supposed to be July 1st but of course it is taking a friggin’ long time to resize the pictures and upload them, and it is 3:30 am now on July 2nd but of course I need to officially start mah Birthday Month on July 1st… So you’ll just have to wait for tomorrow, no, today, and this post is supposed to be for yesterday…