A pair of sparkly shoes. Images of a rainbow room. Three companions leading me on a journey full of magic and awe. It wasn’t Oz. It was even better.
I am currently coming off of a high from this weekend, for I witnessed the greatest concert of my life TWICE. Once in Chicago. Once in Cleveland. By now, you should know me well enough to know I am talking about The Monkees. It happened. Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, and…wait for it…Mike “Papa Nez” Nesmith. On stage. Together. Pinch me. Continue reading “The Memory of Sparkly Shoes: The Monkees 2012 Tour”→
At our house, we like to have music playing during dinner. Seeing as how we are not the kind of family who “dresses for dinner” (in fact, Michael is usually in some state of undress by dinnertime), we don’t listen to anything refined like Beethoven. One is more likely apt to hear Dave Matthews Band, O.A.R., the bluesy incarnation of John Mayer, maybe Foo Fighters every now and again; and if I’m lucky, my husband will throw me a bone and play one of The Monkees albums. But only if I’m lucky.
Last night the ipod landed on my Debbie Gibson playlist. (Laugh at my musical preferences if you will, but don’t pretend you didn’t just let out a barely audible “awww yeeaahh” and mindlessly sing, “Shake your love. I just can’t shake your love.”) Grace was particularly happy about this dinner music, having discovered quite the adoration for her mom’s favorite old tunes…which makes me particularly happy that she is jammin’ to Gibson and her squeaky clean pop instead of to some maturing Disney starlet who feels some pressing need to prove she is growing up by also proving she is a hoochi mama sexually empowered.
So there we were, chewing on our pork tenderloin to the bubble gum beats. A little “Only in My Dreams.” Spicing things up with “Red Hot.” Then Debbie slowed things down with “Lost in Your Eyes.” My husband felt the need to add his own commentary that “mommy likes to sing this song to me.” (Which is not true…because singing that song to him would kind of be like cheating. I used to sing that song to my poster of Micky Dolenz in my room. It’s “our song.” Mine and poster Micky Dolenz’s.) So when I failed to flex my not-so-golden pipes in response, Kurt protested, “Aren’t you going to sing to me?”
“You want me to paint a smiley face on my knee, too?” I asked.
He stared at me with a blank expression. Preteen Kurt obviously did NOT have the Out of the Blue cassette tape in his boombox rotation, otherwise he would have understood my clearly witty reference. So I explained what Miss Gibson was wearing on that album cover, ingrained in my memory as being the height of fashion: the ripped, tight-rolled jeans exposing her happy knee, the white Keds, the giant earrings, the striped shirt…
At that very moment, I glanced down at myself and realized I was wearing this:
And of course, that meant that THIS had to be done:
It took me twenty-five years to finally be as cool as Debbie Gibson was in 1987. I think a little Electric Youth perfume would really be the piece de resistance to complete the outfit.
Now let’s get back to the dance party with a little more “Shake Your Love”…while I go tease my bangs.
No, I haven’t switched teams. And really, it’s just one chick. And he’s a dude.
I’m talking about Chick McGee, member of the Marconi award-winning Bob & Tom Showwhich airs every weekday morning on over 150 radio stations nationwide…and the person my husband wants to be when he grows up.
No lie. My husband has a pretty serious man crush on Chick, which is possibly only rivaled by his deep affection for Alton Brown of Good Eats on Food Network. I am fairly certain the only reason my husband joined Twitter was so he could follow Chick and be privy to whatever hilarity the radio personality could cram into 140 characters. (I’m not judging, mind you…since I joined Twitter only after realizing Micky Dolenz of The Monkees had joined and was tweeting pictures of himself barbecuing meat.) And while driving through the hometown of The Bob and Tom Show during a road trip last summer, I swear on my life that these words were uttered by my 6’6 tank of a husband as we passed a gas station: “I bet Chick McGee has filled up his car there (sigh).” Okay, I may have used a little creative license adding the (sigh) at the end, but you get the picture.
So given my husband’s somewhat unrequited bromance with Chick, and being someone who understands the endorphin rush of a realized dream, I find what happened a few days ago to be fan-friggin-tastic. I am still not sure exactly how this all materialized, but somehow my husband was chosen to be one of a few “Chickmunks” (as fans of Chick are known) to call in and chat with the one and only Chick on an episode of his new podcast called Off the Air. I have yet to hear his fifteen minutes of fame, but when I asked my husband how it went afterwards, he said something along the lines of, “You know how it goes. I had a million things to say and questions to ask, but I mostly just ended up talking to him about Imo’s Pizza.” Oh, I know how it goes. We all remember my encounter with Andy Cohen and my homemade Real Housewives of St. Louis shirt complete with Imo’s Pizza logo. Still, I could tell he was on a high.
So that pretty much covers why my husband likes Chick…but why do I like him, you say? Well first, I think it’s pretty cool that he invited his loyal listeners to call in and be a part of his podcast. It shows the marks of good character, and that he is someone who appreciates the people who appreciate him. That can’t be said of everyone who holds a celebrity status.
That’s one good lookin’ Chick
Oh, and there’s this other really cool thing he did. HE POSTED A LINK TO THIS VERY BLOG ON HIS WEBSITE! Yeah, that’s what I said. This measly, little, needle in a haystack blog. Granted, I owe a big thanks to my husband for even thinking to give some mad props to his wife’s online ramblings amidst what was surely a riveting discussion about thin crust and provel cheese. But Chick didn’t have to actually check out my blog, and he certainly didn’t have to promote it on his site. (Again, his website is Off the Air with Chick McGee. If you click on the “Listener Link of the Moment” under the Episode #5 – Chick’s Favorite New Comedian entry, it will bring you right back HERE…so I guess you can really just take the shortcut and stay here. OR you can go to his site, download his podcast, and have yourself some giggles. Chick would probably appreciate that.) I’m not sure that most of Chick’s listeners are necessarily part of the “mommy blog” demographic, but hopefully they have wives or girlfriends who are…or are the type of people who still enjoy reading about poop, inappropriate actions, the bird and the bees, and creepy cartoon characters. Wait, maybe it is the same demographic…
So Chick, thanks for giving a girl from the small town of WordPress.com a chance in the big city of ChickMcGee.com. If it turns out to be my big break (at the time of this post, you have driven…wait for it…24 HITS to my blog!), we MIGHT just name our next child after you…or at the very least, our next dog. (Though I am not guaranteeing that there will be a “next” of either of those.) If not, I know my husband will still hang on your every tweet. Either way, we may have to have a Fat Kid Weekend in your honor.
Happy “Cuss Counting.”
**Update: You can now listen to my hubby Kurt on the Chick McGee “Off the Air” Podcast!! You can almost hear how excited he is in his voice! Go to www.chickmcgee.com and download Episode #6:Twitter House Party. Kurt’s call starts at the 30:20 mark. He actually did a pretty good job! And Chick confesses his love for St. Louis. Super cool all around!
I have never claimed to be cool. Let’s be completely clear on that point. So what I am about to tell you really should not change your opinion of me whatsoever.
After my post about my ten-year anniversary last week, I would think I had properly conveyed the level of awesomeness my husband possesses. However, during our anniversary dinner, he went and outdid himself by giving me the best gift I could have imagined. Diamonds? No. Pearls? No. A ticket to the three-day Monkees Convention in March of 2013? Damn straight! Continue reading “Warning: This Post Contains Major Geeking-Out”→
It’s official. I am 2-2 when it comes to saying absolutely ridiculous things to celebrities. My first moronic blubbering happened when I met Micky Dolenz of the The Monkees last summer. My second just recently occurred at a book signing with Andy Cohen, Bravo television executive and champion of The Real Housewives franchise…who also happens to be a fellow St. Louis native. Because of this, I have decided I should cloister myself away with my computer and only interact with the public via my blog. Apparently, I am really lame in person.
Cohen’s new book, “Most Talkative”
Cohen made an appearance at the St. Louis County Library last Friday to publicize his new book Most Talkative: Stories from the Front Lines of Pop Culture, and my friend Catherine and I thought it would be fun to go see him. We are both guilty of being Real Housewives fans after all, and I have a little soft spot for Cohen. Aside from marveling at his grace under fire during every Housewives reunion special, he is also responsible for bringing the shows Top Chef and Project Runway into my life. One sparked my interest in sewing, leading me to spend precious bonding time with my grandmother learning her tricks of the trade for pillow shams…the other sparking my interest to gain five pounds. There’s also a sense of pride that comes along with seeing a likable homegrown boy make it in the big city. But mostly, I was hoping to get some Housewives dirt. I was sorely disappointed on that front. But “bravo” to Cohen for being smart enough not to bite the obnoxiously blinged-out hands that feeds him. That’s some good old Midwestern common sense.
After I took this photo, I looked at Catherine and said, “This is SO Andy”…because, you know, we’re pretty close and I know this stuff.
I like that Cohen is a proud St. Louisan. He often references being a native of The Lou on his live late night talk show, Watch What Happens Live. And he was just as appalled as I when, during a game of Pictionary with a couple of the Real Housewives, Kyle Richards had no idea what the St. Louis Arch was. He is a loud and proud Cardinals fan. And a recent article in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch relayed his feelings on his place of birth: “When I tell people I grew up in St. Louis, their first reaction (is sometimes) ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ (…) Here’s what: Apology not accepted — or needed. I loved growing up there.”
Wearing my “Housewives of St. Louis” tee-shirt. Cohen did acknowledge it when he signed my book: “Kelly! RHOSTL!”
Given the props Cohen routinely gives to his roots, Catherine and I thought it would be funny and perhaps (not so) clever to make The Real Housewives of St. Louis tee-shirts to wear to the book signing. (Cohen did make clear during the interview with McGraw Millhaven prior to the book signing that there will never be a St. Louis Housewives…for purely selfish reasons. As he put it, he doesn’t want to be home for a relaxing Thanksgiving break and run into the “Ramona of St. Louis.”) So I took a little trip to Walmart (because that’s where any good Housewife gets her apparel) for some $4 tee shirts and printable iron-on transfers. I spent a good thirty minutes or so recreating the Real Housewives logo with our esteemed city name and icon of choice: Orange County has the orange, Atlanta has the peach, New York has the apple, Beverly Hills has diamond-studded sunglasses…what better to represent St. Louis than the Imo’s pizza logo! Not only does it have the Arch, but it is also the symbol of the square-beyond-compare of delectable provel cheese…the cheese to which Cohen confessed to loving, though he touted it as the cheese they put on salads at Cafe Manhattan, not mentioning Imo’s once. What???? I have to admit I doubted he was REALLY from St. Louis for a moment.
Anyway, Catherine and I were totally digging our shirts, despite the fact that we were surrounded by women who were dressed as if they were auditioning for Real Housewives themselves. It’s all good, we thought. All the more reason we’ll stand out. Catherine even dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, Cohen would love our shirts so much he’d give us a “mazel” on his talk show. That was stretching it a bit, but surely he would love our playful sense of humor, right?
So our turn came to get our books signed. I walk up to Cohen and immediately thrust my hip to the side, point at my chest with both hands, and say in a somewhat cocky manner, “Like my shirt?” Oh…my…God. He smiled a little and said “Aw, cute.” But it was totally in the tone someone uses when she first sees a friend who has just gotten her hair butchered at the salon. Really? I spent a good thirty minutes on this tee-shirt buddy! Perhaps to make up for my failed attempt to win his friendship with my shirt, I go on to say, “Thanks for always representin’ the STL.” ……………??????????????? Yes, that was “representin'” minus the “g” and “STL”…not “St. Louis.” I actually used the letters S-T-L preceded by the word “the.” I will no longer comment on this for there really are no words. What I SHOULD have said was, “Please tell Alexis Bellino to stop reminding people she’s from Missouri, because it’s giving us a bad name.”
Totally adorable?
One of the librarians quickly snapped a photo of Catherine and I with Cohen. I was excited to see it since the librarian kept saying how “adorable” the photo was as she was taking it. She very obviously loved our shirts and found them very clever (aHEM, Mr. Cohen). However, either she was in need of a new prescription for her glasses, or she just thought Catherine and I were more “adorable” if our faces were blurry, because the photo was a pretty big fail.
But all in all, I give the experience two thumbs up. Sure, I wish we had gotten a better reaction about our shirts, but really, it’s not like it was this crazy original idea. And we had fun with it, so that’s all that matters.
In honor of Cohen I will end this post in a similar fashion to how he wraps up each episode of Watch What Happens Live…with my “Jackhole of the Day” and my “Mazel of the Day.”
My “Jackhole of the Day” goes to the crazypants woman from Iowa who expected Cohen to recognize her voice since she had called into his show three times, and who both asked to be his wife and wanted to know what her chances were of becoming a Real Housewife. His response? A very honest probably not thatgood. Honey, if Real Housewives of St. Louis doesn’t have a chance, I wouldn’t hold out any hope for Real Housewives of Des Moines.
My “Mazel of the Day” goes to Cohen himself for giving me something fun to do with my good friend on a Friday night. Then again, the rest of my day consisted of a trip to Walmart, making an unappreciated tee-shirt, and cleaning up my dog’s barf off of our living room carpet…so he really didn’t have all that much competition. Now THAT’S the life of a Real Housewife.
Believe it or not, both of my children stayed up until midnight last night to ring in the new year, albeit by accident. We had planned to “celebrate” early like most parents of young children, but for some reason, everything just ran a little behind. We ate dinner later than we planned, which moved back our movie start time. Before we knew it, we had unknowingly blown right through 9:00 and 10:00 pm. My husband quickly gave the kids a bath in order to have our celebration at 11:00, but then we realized what the heck. If they can make it to midnight, more power to them. And they did.
So as we watched the ball drop, the sparkling apple juice was flowing. We all wished each other a happy 2012…all of us except for Michael. These were Michael’s very first words of the new year, in order: 1. “Ew, they’re kissing.” 2. “Sis, you’re in my way” (accompanied by a push) 3. Sticking out his tongue and spitting at us.
Well, I thought. It looks as though 2012 is going to be pretty much the same as 2011.
On second thought, however, that really would not be such a bad thing. By most accounts, 2011 was a kind year to me. There were definitely some horrible moments throughout the year, most notably the passing of Kurt’s grandfather and our friends’ little boy Chase, as well as the horrible tornadoes that struck the area, including the homes of both my in-laws and my great-aunt and great-uncle. Thankfully, the twister’s damage resulted in fixable things, so I count that as a blessing.
But more often than not, 2011 brought positive things to my life. My kids treated me to more gems of hilarity and uber-cuteness. Grace learned to read, ride a bike, and get herself ready in the morning, while Michael figured out the potty-training thing…all four of which are very freeing things for a mom. I spent a lot of life-renewing time with a lot of different friends, including two girls’ weekends: one of which helped me get back in touch with the girl of my yesteryear, and one that helped me appreciate the woman I am and the life I have now. I also made some new and wonderful friends, and welcomed another
adorable niece, Kate, into the world. I had five whole days to myself this summer when Kurt mercifully took the kids on vacation with his family, which meant that for five days the house was clean and quiet, I was well rested, I did not have to watch PBS Kids, and I painted my toenails for probably the first time all year. I did join the family later in the summer to visit the Chicago area and spend time with my “bestie” and her family. The Cardinals won the World Series the same night we had our annual Halloween party, so I got to wear a costume AND sing “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang at the same time: win-win. And speaking of Halloween, FX made me giddy with their new show American Horror Story, which let me feel spooky long after the ghoulish holiday was over. Sometimes, I am really easy to please.
The Happy Couple – Me and Micky
I feel like I am forgetting something really momentus…ooohhhh yeaaahhhhh. Did I ever mention that The Monkees embarked on their 45th Anniversary Tour? A tour us fans did not think would really happen? A tour that worked as a vehicle to show me the depth and breadth of my husband’s love for me? Yes, 2011 boasted the magical weekend when Kurt and I traveled to Columbus, OH, and I rocked out to my favorite band of all time from the front row (see A Completely Biased Review). Not only that, but twenty-five years of waiting to meet my idol, Micky Dolenz, finally paid off with one geek-out moment hug and an unintentional groupie moment (see Meet and Greet). And I was not the only one to have a brush-with-greatness moment this year. Kurt also caught a glimpse of one of his favorites, celebrity chef and host of Good Eats Alton Brown, AND saw a live performance that included his favorite radio personalities and comedians, Bob & Tom, Chick McGee, and Jimmy Pardo. That’s right ya’ll, we were rubbing elbows with the A-List.
Finally, 2011 gave birth to this blog. While in itself, this is not all that amazing, what it has represented for me is. You can read my first post on the Genesis page to learn more about why I started the blog in the first place. For now, I just want to recognize the happiness I have found in creating my stories here, in remembering a passion I had forgotten and left to collect dust. And the fact that people have taken delight in reading it…well, that is just the hug from Micky on top of The Monkee concert cake.
So if 2012 wants to bring on more of the same, I say that is fine by me. Here’s to a new year!
Believe it or not, both of my children stayed up until midnight last night to ring in the new year, albeit by accident. We had planned to “celebrate” early like most parents of young children, but for some reason, everything just ran a little behind. We ate dinner later than we planned, which moved back our movie start time. Before we knew it, we had unknowingly blown right through 9:00 and 10:00 pm. My husband quickly gave the kids a bath in order to have our celebration at 11:00, but then we realized what the heck. If they can make it to midnight, more power to them. And they did.
Lady Gaga…whatever (photo courtesy of zimbio.com)
So as we watched the ball drop and Lady Gaga start the new year looking just as idiotic as she did in the past year, the sparkling apple juice was flowing. We all wished each other a happy 2012…all of us except for Michael. These were Michael’s very first words of the new year, in order: 1. “Ew, they’re kissing.” 2. “Sis, you’re in my way.” (accompanied by a push) 3. Sticking out his tongue and spitting at us.
Well, I thought. It looks as though 2012 is going to be pretty much the same as 2011.
On second thought, however, that really would not be such a bad thing. By most accounts, 2011 was a kind year to me. There were definitely some horrible moments throughout the year, most notably the passing of Kurt’s grandfather and our friends’ little boy Chase, as well as the horrible tornadoes that struck the area, including the homes of both my in-laws and my great-aunt and great-uncle. Thankfully, the twister’s damage resulted in fixable things, so I count that as a blessing.
But more often than not, 2011 brought positive things to my life. My kids treated me to more gems of hilarity and uber-cuteness. Grace learned to read, ride a bike, and get herself ready in the morning, while Michael figured out the potty-training thing…all four of which are very freeing things for a mom. I spent a lot of life-renewing time with a lot of different friends, including two girls’ weekends: one of which helped me get back in touch with the girl of my yesteryear, and one that helped me appreciate the woman I am and the life I have now. I also made some new and wonderful friends, and welcomed another
Awwww Yeaaaaahhh!
adorable niece, Kate, into the world. I had five whole days to myself this summer when Kurt mercifully took the kids on vacation with his family, which meant that for five days the house was clean and quiet, I was well rested, I did not have to watch PBS Kids, and I painted my toenails for probably the first time all year. I did join the family later in the summer to visit the Chicago area and spend time with my “bestie” and her family. The Cardinals won the World Series the same night we had our annual Halloween party, so I got to wear a costume AND sing “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang at the same time: win-win. And speaking of Halloween, FX made me giddy with their new show American Horror Story, which let me feel spooky long after the ghoulish holiday was over. Sometimes, I am really easy to please.
The Happy Couple – Me and Micky
I feel like I am forgetting something really momentus…ooohhhh yeaaahhhhh. Did I ever mention that The Monkees embarked on their 45th Anniversary Tour? A tour us fans did not think would really happen? A tour that worked as a vehicle to show me the depth and breadth of my husband’s love for me? Yes, 2011 boasted the magical weekend when Kurt and I traveled to Columbus, OH, and I rocked out to my favorite band of all time from the front row (see A Completely Biased Review). Not only that, but twenty-five years of waiting to meet my idol, Micky Dolenz, finally paid off with one geek-out moment hug and an unintentional groupie moment (see Meet and Greet). And I was not the only one to have a brush-with-greatness moment this year. Kurt also caught a glimpse of one of his favorites, celebrity chef and host of Good Eats Alton Brown, AND saw a live performance that included his favorite radio personalities and comedians, Bob & Tom, Chick McGee, and Jimmy Pardo. That’s right ya’ll, we were rubbing elbows with the A-List.
Finally, 2011 gave birth to this blog. While in itself, this is not all that amazing, what it has represented for me is. You can read my first post on the Genesis page to learn more about why I started the blog in the first place. For now, I just want to recognize the happiness I have found in creating my stories here, in remembering a passion I had forgotten and left to collect dust. And the fact that people have taken delight in reading it…well, that is just the hug from Micky on top of The Monkee concert cake.
So if 2012 wants to bring on more of the same, I say that is fine by me. Here’s to a new year!
My life has just been made complete. I had the most mind-blowing revelation: my real father is a Monkee. Here is how it all played out:
I came across this recent charming article about Mike Nesmith, the famously “missing” Monkee. For those of you who don’t know, he was the one who wore the wool hat. And he is the one who no longer tours with the group. Right now, the other three Monkees are in the midst of their 45th Anniversary Tour, and the frenzy that this has stirred up among Continue reading “Is That You, Dad?”→
Are You Finished Yet? 