Make a little love...get down tonight..Okay, so you know how the rest of the song goes.
"Would you like to go see KC and the Sunshine Band?"
Sure!
Let me say this one thing. Baby Boomers do not want to go see other baby boomers singing songs they made popular 30 years ago...really. I thought I did...but it was bad from the beginning. The Sunshine Band part was great..young, hip, talented. KC, well....thirty years equals thirty pounds, thinning hair, wrinkles, and WAY too much purple and glitter. I imagine a few too many road shows has made KC tired. The hips just ain't shakin' the way they used to, and the moves are just a little sloppy. Disheveled would be a good word to describe it.
We knew we were in trouble when they brought out a yellow cardigan thing to go over his black t shirt and trousers. To cover up the flabby belly most likely. And his big ass.
And the dancing girls...well, maybe they used to be girls, once. Now they are like a brick house...mighty, mighty and lettin' it all hang out. Eeeeeewe. They certainly would not win any prizes on reality tv shows like "But Can They Dance?"
After about an hour, I kind of lost interest. I think our sky box was the only group not up shakin their booty.
KC was gracious in his old age, however, and could easily laugh at himself. "What the hell happened?" he shouted. I woke up and I'm not young anymore!
Join us, KC. The room was filled with 40 and 50 somethings thinking they still looked 20 or 30. From my vantage point there was a lot of fake blonde hair, sagging body parts, and thinning scalps. I bet KC was feeling it the next day.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Thoughts on eggs and bad 80's music
I am glad to be going to work today and for the rest of summer. Vacation as I know it is over. Did I say vacation? Going back to work will be a vacation after the last few weeks. I am thinking of writing an essay: "What I Did On My Summer Vacation." Except it would read like fiction.
"Why are you stressed?" my husband asked the other day...He decided he should take me out to celebrate our wedding anniversary..which happened to fall in the middle of a three day golf tournament that recently concluded.
"Are you serious?" I got transferred to a job I didn't want, my aunt was diagnosed with cancer, my aunt died, I hurt my back, my mom is needy, my kids are at my house every day, it has rained almost every day, I got a new job, I had to resign my old job, I am teaching a class right now, I am teaching another calss next week and I start a new job in 2 weeks. My house got egged, I have no money, and the builders across the street are forcing me to close my windows and suffocate or listen to Barry Manilow blaring Mandy all day long. Are you kidding me?"
"Oh."
So the other night I heard something hit my house in the middle of the night-because I was laying awake for hours trying to go back to sleep. In the morning I discovered egg-gooey, sticky, egg yolk, egg white and shells all over my roof, my windows and my porch. Have fun golfing honey, while I spend the morning using the hose and goo-gone to scrub the nasty raw egg off our house. Of course, Barry Manilow was singing away amidst the electric saws.
That afternoon I spent entertaining...again. A house full of small children and large children. Grown men should not be allowed to drink margaritas..especially after spending the day golfing.
Day 2 of a three day weekend dawns. I should have gone away to some secluded island spa. More bad 80's music. More cleaning, more rain. Dinner is good..it is a guilt dinner, so of course I make him pay and drink lots of wine.
Day 3. My anniversary. Who cares? My mom comes by at noon, I entertain her and feed her lunch; my daughter comes by and spends the next 2 hours trying to control my grandsons. It thunders and there is lightening, and it pours and we are all sitting around looking at each other. Except for Aidan who is climbing all over the furniture and waging a cookie war with his mom.
The first shift leaves and the second shift arrives. The weekend golfer finally comes home and wonders why I am stressed. It is still raining. I have done nothing fun all weekend and you have done nothing BUT have fun all weekend. I went grocery shopping and have spent the day cooking and feeding people. I have a great idea! Why don't you stay for dinner! I can cook for you and clean up after you and entertain you. I can do it because I know tomorrow I am going back to work and I will have all the time in the world to relax.
A summer and a weekend that cannot end soon enough as far as I am concerned. There is a reason people go away on vacation. Maybe if I act now I can book a room for next weekend.
"Why are you stressed?" my husband asked the other day...He decided he should take me out to celebrate our wedding anniversary..which happened to fall in the middle of a three day golf tournament that recently concluded.
"Are you serious?" I got transferred to a job I didn't want, my aunt was diagnosed with cancer, my aunt died, I hurt my back, my mom is needy, my kids are at my house every day, it has rained almost every day, I got a new job, I had to resign my old job, I am teaching a class right now, I am teaching another calss next week and I start a new job in 2 weeks. My house got egged, I have no money, and the builders across the street are forcing me to close my windows and suffocate or listen to Barry Manilow blaring Mandy all day long. Are you kidding me?"
"Oh."
So the other night I heard something hit my house in the middle of the night-because I was laying awake for hours trying to go back to sleep. In the morning I discovered egg-gooey, sticky, egg yolk, egg white and shells all over my roof, my windows and my porch. Have fun golfing honey, while I spend the morning using the hose and goo-gone to scrub the nasty raw egg off our house. Of course, Barry Manilow was singing away amidst the electric saws.
That afternoon I spent entertaining...again. A house full of small children and large children. Grown men should not be allowed to drink margaritas..especially after spending the day golfing.
Day 2 of a three day weekend dawns. I should have gone away to some secluded island spa. More bad 80's music. More cleaning, more rain. Dinner is good..it is a guilt dinner, so of course I make him pay and drink lots of wine.
Day 3. My anniversary. Who cares? My mom comes by at noon, I entertain her and feed her lunch; my daughter comes by and spends the next 2 hours trying to control my grandsons. It thunders and there is lightening, and it pours and we are all sitting around looking at each other. Except for Aidan who is climbing all over the furniture and waging a cookie war with his mom.
The first shift leaves and the second shift arrives. The weekend golfer finally comes home and wonders why I am stressed. It is still raining. I have done nothing fun all weekend and you have done nothing BUT have fun all weekend. I went grocery shopping and have spent the day cooking and feeding people. I have a great idea! Why don't you stay for dinner! I can cook for you and clean up after you and entertain you. I can do it because I know tomorrow I am going back to work and I will have all the time in the world to relax.
A summer and a weekend that cannot end soon enough as far as I am concerned. There is a reason people go away on vacation. Maybe if I act now I can book a room for next weekend.
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