Ready for our close-ups

When artists sign up for network television specials they start out by looking for a venue that is renowned in the music business. Elton John filmed a concert at the Sydney Opera House. DMB filmed at Red Rocks Amphitheatre. Back in the day The Doors recorded their show at the Hollywood Bowl. Even Timberlake scooped up Madison Square Garden for his recent HBO show. So naturally when Martina McBride was looking for a venue for her own TV special she looked no further than the legendary iWireless Center in Moline.

You know it's going to be a good night when the two women who sit down in front of you immediately spill beer on the head of the snooty woman in front of them before the concert even begins. For me it makes the whole trip worthwhile. In all honesty the two women were two of the oddest ducks I've ever seen. As the night wore on their behavior became ever weirder. To make matters worse one (or both) of them had a strange, pungent odor that permiated the space around them. Rachel and I couldn't figure out if it originated from their underarms, feet, or some other section of the body. I must admit that the blonde woman was a little stranger than her more masculine friend. Some of her friends had seats on the floor and whenever she wanted to get their attention she would let loose with an ear-piercing "Ca caw! Ca caw!" like a wild bird of prey.

When the concert began and Martina rose from below the stage she started bawling and continued through the entire song. She veered from one emotion to the next throughout the show. The next minute she was spastic acting like she was going to rip open her shirt and show us her McBoobies. At one point she and her friend started singing loudly and dancing with one another. The camera guy couldn't get there quick enough to capture the moment. I pray that it makes it on the air so you can see Rach and I giggling in the background. Truth be told anytime the camera was around I burst out in song like it was my American Idol audtition. Rachel had to remind me that some lyrics just look wrong coming out of a guy's mouth. Hopefully they leave me singing "He thinks I'm pretty. He thinks I'm smart" on the cutting room floor. Near the end of the show another one of blondie's friends came over to join in the festivities. I missed a song or two because I couldn't take my eyes off the woman's breasts. Location-wise, they were the highest mammary glands I'd ever seen. They were basically shooting out of her neck. Bet you don't see that at Radio City Music Hall.

Set List
Anyway
When God-Fearin' Women Get The Blues
Wild Angels
My Baby Loves Me
Tryin' To Find A Reason
How I Feel
Happy Girl
(I Never Promised You A) Rose Garden
You Ain't Woman Enough
Help Me Make It Through The Night
Where Would You Be
Concrete Angel
For These Times
Love's The Only House
Blessed
This One's For The Girls
A Broken Wing
Independence Day

Encore
Don't Stop Believin'
Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Post-Taping Set
It's My Time
Cry Cry (Till The Sun Shines)
She's A Butterfly
Safe in the Arms of Love
Ashes
If I Had Your Name
Whatever You Say
Phones Are Ringin' All Over Town
Cheap Whiskey
Heartaches By The Number
I'll Still Be Me
Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Next time hold the mayo

This afternoon Rachel sent Ella and I on a simple task: run to the store and get a jar of mayonaise for a recipe she was making for tonight. We head to the store and pick up the mayo with some other odds and ends (pizza, canned vegetables, soda, Easy Mac). Ella helps me load them on to the conveyor belt and the cashier starts scanning the items. As the woman is scanning a can of green beans Ella turns to her and says "Daddy poopied on the potty. Daddy wiped his bum. Stinky." I was tempted to just lay down $20, grab the two bags, and high-tail it out of there. The lady just smiled, continued scanning, and informed me of my total. Thankfully I wasn't purchasing toilet paper or toilet bowl cleaner, so my ego was saved slightly. We returned home, put the groceries away, and took a dump.

That's shirt with an "r"

Today we were reading a short story called "The Missing Shirt." It's a lame tale about how this boy is getting ready for school but can't find his beloved shirt. (Yes, it's really as boring as it sounds.) After reading it together the students had to answer some comprehension questions about the story. The last question asked where did the boy eventually find the missing shirt. Just now as I was grading the papers one of the responses caused me to realize that I need to spend some more time teaching spelling. One of my students wrote "The boy found the brown shit on the bathroom floor." If you're finding poop on the floor then you have more problems than just spelling words correctly.

A crappy encounter

So this is my first blog of the new school year. It's just like old times. We've been back to school for a week and I already have that one boy who will make the year drag on and on. Basically he doesn't listen, can't follow directions, picks his nose, never returns his homework, reads worse than Liam, can't add 5 + 2, and barely knows his own name half of the time. I've been trying to get ahold of mom for the last several days but she doesn't answer the phone, won't return my emails, and apparently can't read the notes I send home. (It must run in the family). To my surprise she was waiting to pick him up today after school. I was excited to see her until I noticed that her t-shirt read "Go f*** yourself." I disregarded the invitation and walked up to her. As I got closer I realized her white sweatpants had chocolate all over the crotch like she was Betty Crocker herself, baking cakes instead of responding to my emails. She must have noticed me glance down because the next words out of her mouth were "I couldn't get back to you because my daughter's been sick and she keeps shitting her pants." I couldn't jump back quick enough as I basically blew off my concerns and said we could talk about them at another time when her pants weren't covered in feces.

It's so over

Last night was the final stop on the old summer concert series. We went to the Illinois State Fair in Springfield to see Daughtry. I can't think of much to write about other than it was blazing hot outside in the grandstand. It got up to 99 degrees yesterday with the heat index well over 100. When I start getting the butt sweat you know it's bad. The concert itself was subpar at best. Daughtry himself seemed to just be going through the motions. Plus he felt the need to keep reminding us of how hot it was. Ya the smelly armpits to the left of me won't let me forget. The show plodded along so much so that I didn't even care he was onstage for only 55 minutes. This is my final trip to the state fair. I don't care if Paul and Ringo reunite for a tour. I'm not going. My idea of a good time is not wringing out your underwear before you hop back in the car.

Set List
Crashed

What I Want

Used To

It's Not Over

Gone

Breakdown

What About Now

Nutshell

Feels Like Tonight

Over You

Encore

Home

There And Back Again

Spending the night with Sanjaya

Last night we headed to Moline to see the American Idols Live tour. It was actually kind of cool because we landed second row tickets on the floor just a few hours before. The revelers around us included a diverse lot. In front us sat two overprotective parents who required their kids to wear fluorescent orange earplugs throughout the entire thing. Um, nerdy. I mean this was Idol not Ozzfest. Further down their row was a girl with her gay guy friend who kept taking pictures of Chris Richardson on his cell phone. Also in the front row was a 60-year Filipino woman who kept dancing seductively to Blake's beats. On one side of us sat a 40-something woman who introduced herself and went ahead and apologized for all of the craziness that was sure to come during the show. She left early with thirty minutes left to go in the show and without throwing Phil her panties. Wow, how wild. To the other side of us sat a group of four including a 20-year old girl who kept bragging about how Blake winked at her. Needless to say, during intermission she called everyone she knew to tell them that she would soon be Mrs. Lewis, while checking with her friends to make sure her hair looked good.

The show this year was one of the best Idol stage shows yet. For several years they did those dreadful group numbers where all ten of them sang together to California Dreamin'. This year they toned down the group dynamics, instead pairing two or three contestants together for various numbers. As much as I hate to admit it the performance of the night for me was Blake. He recorded his beat boxing live on stage and then played it back as the track while he sang She Will Be Loved. It was pretty ingenious as it later morphed into With Or Without You. But then he followed it up with a ten minute lesson on how to beat box and I was right back to hating him again like normal. Let me just tell the people behind the Idol tour to rewind their Tivo and look to see who actually won the contest this year. To my knowledge it wasn't Chris Richardson even though he was on stage more than anyone else the entire night. We saw Jordin for 90 seconds of the first song, for two songs right in the middle, and finally her solo set at the very end.

It was great to see that LaKisha had used some of her newfound wealth to fix the gap in her teeth. Maybe some additional funds need to be spent on breast reduction surgery. Near the end of the show she walked on stage wearing a Kellogg's Corn Pops t-shirt. Those were the two biggest corn pops I've ever seen.

Let me just say upfront that you don't go to an Idol show to see Haley Scarnato sing. That's like going to McDonald's for the romantic ambiance. The girl is known for her legs and nothing else. So imagine my disappointment when song after song she came out wearing jeans. But then the second half rolled around and the strains of Lady Marmalade filled the arena. Up from below the stage came Haley in all her hooker glory. The booty shorts were full on display and all was right with the world once again.

And finally let us not forget the myth, the man, the legend, Sanjaya. Now I've gotta admit that the kid can sing….kinda. He was actually better than the vast majority of his performances on the show. Thankfully he didn't bring any of them back for a second go round. Smart move. Instead he tackled Ike Turner (good) and Michael Jackson (not so good). The real low point was when he lent his vocal ability(?) to Hey Jude and provided the "Na na na na na na na" part of song. Somewhere Paul McCartney is jumping in front of a speeding subway car.

Set List

Everyone: Let's Get It Started

Melinda & LaKisha: Baby Love; Stop In The Name Of Love

Melinda, LaKisha & Chris R: I Heard It Through The Grapevine

Sanjaya & Melinda: Proud Mary

Phil: Blaze of Glory

Chris S & Gina: Thnks Fr Th Mmrs

Haley: When God Fearin' Women Get The Blues

Sanjaya: The Way You Make Me Feel

Chris S: Typical

Gina: Who Knew

Jordin & Chris R: What Hurts The Most

Jordin & Melinda: This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)

Blake: Time of the Season; She Will Be Loved; With Or Without You; You Give Love A Bad Name

Melinda, LaKisha, Gina & Haley: Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

Phil: America The Beautiful

Blake, Chris R, Chris S, Sanjaya & Phil: Crazy; Hey Jude

Haley, Gina & LaKisha: Lady Marmalade
Blake & Chris R: Ain't No Sunshine; Virtual Insanity; Geek in the Pink; SexyBack
LaKisha: I Will Always Love You
Chris R: This Love

Phil & Gina: It's Your Love

Chris R, Sanjaya & Haley: Life Is A Highway

Melinda: (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman

Haley, Gina, LaKisha & Melinda: Ain't No Other Man

Jordin: I Who Have Nothing; Heartbreaker; You Were Meant For Me; A Broken Wing; Livin' on a Prayer; This Is My Now

Undiagnosed

We went to the St. Jude telethon Saturday night to present the money that we had raised all year at school. The three boys and I stood under the lights waiting for our cue. Just before it was our time one of the boys looked back at me and whispered "Mr. Ritchason, I think I'm gonna pee my pants" with a serious, deeply concerned look on his face. Well that would be a first for the telethon. Someone urinating on live television while the mayor answers phones in the background. Just then a heavily makeuped Lee Ranson (who is one day away from death) walked up and called me "Mitch." I guess he combined my first name and last name maybe like one of those Hollywood couple nicknames (Brangelina, Tomkat, Locoke). But all was forgiven when he recognized me as a Golden Apple winner. Try getting that shout-out, Forest Whitaker. He asked the same questions we get every year and the boys fumbled over the total which has also become something of an annual tradition. While we were on the air, one of the St. Jude runners stopped to admire Liam lying in his stroller. She smiled, shook her head, and said to Rachel "Well that's what we do this for." To all those who are concerned, Liam is not undergoing chemotherapy. He's just a little bald.

Battling a senior citizen

I was coming home from summer school today when this old man pulled out right in front of me. Disregarding the fact that he was probably 90 and senile, I laid on my horn and swerved around him. I glared at him and gave him an "Are you kidding me" look as I passed him in the other lane. Then just as fate always does when you do something stupid, I got stopped at the next stoplight and the white Oldsmobile pulled up right next to me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and at first acted like I didn't see him. He then proceeded to lay on his own horn in a long, drawn out fashion. A smart alec after my own heart. I finally turned to my right making sure all of the windows were up in the car and mouthed the words "I can't hear you" as I pointed to my ear. This pissed him off even more so he began reving his engine like we were Diesel and Walker getting ready for a street race down Court Street. This made me start laughing as I watched his wife reach across the steering wheel, trying to calm him down. I wasn't about to let the dancing guy from the Six Flags commercials intimidate me. I mean it wasn't like I was squaring off with Brad Pitt. ("I mean have you seen Snatch and Fight Club?": A shout out to my Big Brother brethren). The light turned green and thankfully the van in front of me was quicker than the Jimmy John's delivery driver in his lane. I sped off, looking forward to another round with Peter O'Toole down the road. Somewhere he sits right now amongst his nursing home buddies playing bunco and relaying his run-in with the troubled youth of America.

Urban meets Springer

Last night Rach and I went to Moline to see her boyfriend Keith Urban. The show was really great but we got stuck in the raucous section of the crowd in the first row of the upper bowl. On one side of us a group was knocking their beer over the side and spilling it on the people below. This begat a stream of security that was present all night long in the aisle. In the other aisle stood a drunk man and his girlfriend who didn't even have seats in the section and were blocking some people's view of the stage. Finally, a rather large woman in a sequined tube top walked down the steps and began screaming in his face. Then her boyfriend in the Coors tank top joined to get in his own word. It was straight out of The Jerry Springer Show when a thug is dating a transsexual only to find out that he's also sleeping with his ex-boyfriend who happens to be a midget with dyslexia. Then they proceed to just beat the crap out of each other. Finally the drunk gentleman did a little dance and stumbled down the stairs. Oh I can't forget the two drunk lesbians who were sitting in our seats. When they realized we were going to be sitting there they sighed loudly and stood right beside us hollering "We'll just stand right here all night. I don't even give a f***." As a side note it's amazing what people will wear to country concerts. My favorite are the 50-year old women with no teeth that are classy enough to wear daisy dukes that are so short that you can actually see their vagina poking through. It's a nice touch.

Set List
Once in a Lifetime
Where The Blacktop Ends
Faster Car
Shine
Raining on Sunday
Stupid Boy
Used To The Pain
You're My Better Half
Making Memories Of Us
You'll Think Of Me
I Told You So
Days Go By
I Can't Stop Loving You
Tonight I Wanna Cry
Who Wouldn't Wanna Be Me
Somebody Like You

Encore
Got It Right This Time
Better Life
Everybody

Potteritis

So I just got back from picking up the new Harry Potter book shortly after midnight (Nerd Alert!). I got hooked earlier reading the first third of the book that someone leaked online days ago so I got in line with the rest of the people in need of social life.

I'm all for little kids getting dressed up like Hermione or Dumbledore, but I draw the line at people over a certain age donning overgrown spectacles and a lightning bolt on the forehead crafted from Crayola washable markers. Let's just say that if you have hair growing under your armpits (or other places on your body) it's probably time to hang up the oversized cape. As soon as I walked into the store I heard a boy speaking in a dreadful British accent saying "Hello, I'm Larry Potter." This kid who was old enough to know better had on the full Potter costume and was just obnoxiously over the top. Before I could even roll my eyes he turned to me and said "Oh hi Mr. Ritchason." I turned to see a boy I had my first year of teaching who is getting ready to go into 8th grade. I made polite conversation, discussing the book and his summer before heading for my spot in line. Not much has changed for him in the last five years. Even an invisibility cloak can't hide a dork.

This group of three 50-somethings in front of me were way into it. They were having their own book club right there in aisle 2. I mean if I never again hear the phrases "social isolation" and "emotional frailty" I can die a contented man. I was waiting for Oprah to come waltzing around the corner. Oh and I guess I made some lady mad because Colin and I were discussing parts of the book we had already read. She turned around and glared at me like I had just urinated in her grandmother's applesauce. Spoiler alert: On page 274 Harry transforms a crabby, unibrowed lady into an ear of corn. Oops!