Welcome back from obscurity

Alright so the big story that Entertainment Tonight and E! will be covering tonight is Lance Bass' announcement that he's gay. This is really a non-story. I mean most people saw this coming from a mile away. Does anyone really care? I mean if it was Johnny Depp or something then we'd all be rushing for the new issue of People magazine but not for this spook. Nevertheless it's raised his profile and I'm sure the producers of The Surreal Life are busily burning up the phone lines trying to land him for next season. Maybe this gives hope for those three fans that have been clamoring for a sequel to On The Line. I saw this photo online today and almost peed myself. Insert your own inappropriate Uranus joke here.

Livin' on a prayer

So if the baby news wasn't exciting enough, last night my dad and I headed to north to Chicago to see Bon Jovi for the third time (and the second time in nine months). Naturally some have written the guys off as an 80's hair band, yet they remain as relevant today as they were back in the Reagan administration. Try to name another band from that era that can still churn out hit songs and sell albums and concert tickets two decades later. Here's a hint: You can count them on one finger (U2). This is my third stadium show at Soldier Field after seeing Dave Matthews Band and a now retired boy band that I'm too embarrassed to name, both in 2001. The show itself was a combination of greatest hits, new songs, and album tracks rarely played live. Songs like Livin' on a Prayer and You Give Love A Bad Name are tailor-made for massive outdoor shows like this. You can't help but throw your hands in the air and sing off key. I can't imagine the high it must be to step on stage in front of 60,000 people and have them sing your songs back to you. It's amazing to me that even after consuming 27 beers throughout the show fans still can sing every single line of Wanted Dead or Alive. I must admit that Chicago seems much more well-adjusted than Milwaukee. Really the only freak in the crowd was a guy who used binoculars not to see the band up-close but to check out all of the exposed breasts (most of which looked more like Jessica Tandy than Jessica Simpson). As an added note there were two celebrity sightings at the concert. First, slutty Denise Richards hung out on the side of the stage for the last half of the show. If you're Richie Sanbora why on earth would you leave Heather Locklear for a skank like that? It's one of life's most thought-provoking questions. Second, Molly Shannon was a section over from us and several rows up. It's nice to know that my teacher's salary can afford better seats than Mary Katherine Gallagher. I guess the residual checks from those Superstar DVD sales have dried up.

Set List

Last Man Standing

You Give Love A Bad Name
Complicated
Born To Be My Baby
Story Of My Life
Captain Crash & The Beauty Queen From Mars
I'll Sleep When Im Dead

Dancin' in the Streets
Runaway
The Radio Saved My Life Tonight
In These Arms
Always
I'll Be There For You
Have A Nice Days
Who Says You Can't Go Home
Raise Your Hands
Bad Medicine

Shout
Livin' on a Prayer

Encore
Just Older
Wanted Dead or Alive
It's My Life
Blood On Blood
Someday I'll Be Saturday Night
Treat Her Right

Keep the Faith

Back to Milwaukee

So I vowed a month ago that I wouldn't be returning to Milwaukee any time soon. When I made that statement I happened to forget that I had already purchased tickets to see Faith Hill and Tim McGraw in that fair city. So yesterday Rachel and I headed back up for a return engagement. I wish I had better news, but I honestly think the place has gotten even weirder in the last five weeks. So we arrived at the Bradley Center and discovered that our seats were only twelve rows from the stage. So far so good until soon after our arrival Milwaukee's finest begin coming out of the woodwork. A fifty-year old man two rows in front of us walked in dressed head to toe in American Eagle's summer line. There comes a time in everyone's life when you have to realize that you can't dress like your fourteen year old child. I speak the same message to many of those ticket holders from last night. Learn to dress appropriately. Ladies, if your boobs hang past your belly button, then it's probably time to retire that baby tee that says "Hottie." The woman sitting next to Rachel looked like Dame Judi Dench from the wrong side of the tracks. She was dressed in all black with the requisite cowboy hat on. Rach commented that she smelled like a combination of cigarettes, beer, and nachos, which usually I find irresistable. Now she and her daughter were huge Tim fans and loathed Faith. Whenever she came to our side of the stage the two of them booed her. The kicker was that at one point she returned from the concession stand with a soft pretzel. As she was making her way down the row to her seat she dropped it behind the seat in front of her where it landed on the floor. Reaching down she picked the pretzel up after several seconds of searching and proceeded to take a big bite. I mean three dollars is a lot of money to waste on a pretzel. A man a few rows behind us showed up by himself and managed to sit down and just stare at everyone, especially the young girls. Rachel swears that she saw him on one of those Dateline pedophile investigations. A guy a few rows closer to the stage was dressed in a white fitted wife beater, tight Wrangler jeans, a shell necklace, dark sunglasses, a white cowboy hat, and a spray on tan. At first I thought that he was trying to be Kenny Chesney but when he started dancing I soon realized that he wanted to have sex with Kenny Chesney. He had that whole gay man pelvic thrust where he was just grinding away in thin air. And I can't help but mention my two female friends a couple rows away. It's bad enough that they stood up through the entire concert singing off key. The best (or worst) part of it was that as they continued to guzzle down more Mike's Hard Lemonade the more touchy feely the got. By the end of the show they were like Ellen and Anne back in the good old days.

Now I would be remiss if I didn't tell about the actual show (even though the supporting players were worth the $85 price tag). Faith opened her part of the show with Mississippi Girl, a song that I'm embarrassed to admit that I turn up and sign along to in the car. It's gay I know. Actually it's just a glorified Sounthern remake of Jenny From The Block. The rest of the songs she performed from her latest album were just hit (Fireflies) or miss (The Lucky One). Faith delivered all of her biggest hits, including This Kiss, which seemed to be the crowd's favorite. My one disappointment was when she sang Cry. Instead of showcasing this big pop power ballad she chose to do it accoustically which made it dull and lifeless. Oh I did have one more disappointment. When she performed Breathe she forgot to writhe around naked in a sheet like in the video. Maybe she's saving that for the next tour.

When Tim took the stage it was apparent that most of the crowd was there for him. The first few notes of Real Good Man were almost drowned out by the audience. All three of the songs he performed from his new greatest hits album were terrible. I mean it made Taylor Hicks' Do I Make You Proud song sound like Hey Jude. My other problem came when he let the crowd sing most of his biggest hits. I came to hear Tim sing Live Like You Were Dying, not the skank sporting the Marlboro t-shirt and missing teeth.

My real draw for going to the show was the chance to see the two of them sing together, which they did intermittantly throughout the two and a half hour spectacle. A couple of the songs were about breaking up so it made perfect sense for the two of them to have their backs to one another. However, when you sing a song called Let's Make Love it probably helps if you acknowledge one another's presence. Not even on their blockbuster hit It's Your Love did they even get within thirty feet of one another. Is there a restraining order in place that none of us are aware of? I mean they made Charlie Sheen and Denise Richards look like love-struck newlyweds. It wasn't until the very last song of the show that they finally sat across from one another to share a microphone. By that time it was too little, too late.

Set List

TIM & FAITH:

Like We Never Loved at All

FAITH:

Mississippi Girl
The Way You Love Me
Sunshine & Summertime
Fireflies
This Kiss
Let Me Let Go
Stealing Kisses
The Lucky One
Cry
There Will Come a Day
It is Well With My Soul
Breathe
Piece Of My Heart

TIM & FAITH:

Angry All the Time
Let's Make Love

TIM:

Real Good Man
Where the Green Grass Grows
Don't Take the Girl
Just to See You Smile
My Little Girl
Something Like That
When the Stars Go Blue
Live Like You Were Dying
Unbroken
The Cowboy in Me
I've Got Friends That Do
I Like It, I Love It

TIM & FAITH:

Shotgun Rider
It's Your Love
No Woman, No Cry
I Need You

A restroom with a view

Last night I was helping out with the kids at church. It was about time to go so I started putting things away. A table needed wiped down because it was covered with chocolate pudding from a game we had played earlier. I grabbed a paper towel and headed to the boys restroom to dampen it. As I was wringing it out I heard a rustling in the stall next door. I peeked my head around to make sure everything was alright when I got quite an eyeful. The stall door was wide open and a woman in her mid-50s was sitting on the toilet with her pants down to her ankles fully exposed. Needless to say it wasn't a pretty picture. I let out an uncomfortable "Oh, I'm sorry" as though I needed to be the one to apologize for being in there. I hid for a few minutes to avoid running into her. If only it had been that easy. Just as I was sneaking back in the room I came face-to-face with my poopy friend. She apologized, saying that she didn't realize it was the boys restroom. Where exactly was the little girls room she wanted to know for next time. Okay lady, here's a tip. The next time you feel the need to relieve yourself lock the door. That's all I ask.

My ears are bleeding

This morning I went to do my civic duty and gave blood. One of the nursing homes in town was sponsoring the blood drive. As soon as I stepped foot inside the building I was almost overtaken by a smell that I can only explain as a cross between death and diarrhea. I checked in at the front desk and a woman with an unnaturally orange tan handed me a binder of information. I thumbed through the pages to make sure I was a suitable donor. I can't say that I have ever had a bovine injection from a cow. I am not currently being treated for herpes. And no I have never traded drugs for sex (although I have tried unsuccessfully on a few occasions). Satisfied that I was alright to proceed, the talking carrot told me to take a seat and wait for my name to be called.

I picked a chair and took in my surroundings. There were three men and four women, all elderly and in wheelchairs, just hanging out. I popped in my headphones and started listening to my iPod. Seven seconds into "Shake Ya Tailfeather" I felt a tug on left sleeve. I looked over to find one of the men. He asked me "Is the Red Cross sponsoring this?" I responded "Ya, I think so" and pointed to the wall directly in front of us. Hanging there was a massive banner that read "The American Red Cross thanks Pekin for all of your donations of blood today." Seeming satisfied the man wheeled away.

A few minutes later as Nelly and Diddy were fading away, I watched a different man head over. He parked his wheelchair right beside me and said "I had my first heart attack in 1972." Oh man, not one of these old guys, I thought to myself. But not wanting to be rude I acted interested and said a brief "Oh ya?" He told me all about his doctor, his surgeries, and his diet, which led him to ask "So how long have you been wearing your heart monitor?" When I told him I didn't have one he pointed to my headphones. All this time he thought I had on a heart monitor. Now I'm not a doctor but the last time I read Physicians Monthly there was no mention of a heart monitor on the market that connected to your ears. Not really caring that he had been confused, he kept talking about his angioplasty and how the doctor lost two balloons inside his heart. Is he serious or has he become one of the oldest viewers of Grey's Anatomy? Thankfully an orderly came by and told him that it was time for his monthly haircut. We said our goodbyes and off he went.

I retreated to my iPod and scrolled up to Coldplay. Halfway through "The Scientist" I noticed one of the ladies staring at me. I gave her a brief smile and quietly prayed that she wouldn't take my gesture as an invite. No such luck. She slowly raised herself out of her wheelchair and hobbled over. I hit the pause button for the third time just as she unsteadily sat down. She said "Oh my, you look just like that man from CNN." Before I could ask whether she meant Larry King or Anderson Cooper, the nurse called my name. We said our farewells and I vanished. In hindsight, the weird thing is that the actual process of giving blood was less painful than waiting to donate.

Love on four wheels

Last night we went to Wal-Mart to get some items for Ella's birthday party. I was loading groceries into the trunk when an elderly woman and her just as frail husband in a wheelchair passed by. She said to him "Let's head on home where all the magic happens." My sick mind immediately pictured two sharpei puppies with their wrinkled skin hanging off their bodies tangled up together making out. Instead I'm hoping that this "magic" consisted of a Ben Gay rubdown, taking prescription medication together, soaking their dentures in a new glass of Polident, reading the latest issue of AARP Magazine, adjusting each other's hearing aids, or watching Matlock reruns. Here's a magic trick I'd like to see performed. Next time when old people are talking about having sex, make me deaf.