The Right Stuff

The morning after I posted my previous blog I was reminded what Archie meant.  It is pretty funny, but it will keep. 

Right now…

...from the eyes of a 39-year-old mother of two with limited concert experience outside the Dead/Phish/DMB crowd with the exception of an N*SYNC concert over TEN years ago (holy shit, has it been that long?). 

Sidebar: N*SYNC doesn’t count because we were older than most of the audience and therefore unable to be rude.  And we had not so good seats.  And we were still young enough to be ashamed of ourselves. 

At some point in the evening, once NKOTB came on stage, I decided I better start taking notes, because I wasn’t sure I was going to remember anything other than the ringing in my ears.  Here is a transcription of those notes…

Bon jovi dead or alive

Do French kidsin

Joey please don’t go

Jordan need a fan

Jn singing for the first time ever

Joe FAITH

Jrdn kiss

Do. It’s getting hot in here

Dirty dancing

Do throws shirt.  Biscuit

Games

I do t care cat I live it.

Surprisingly enough, this all makes perfect sense to me.  But I have to back up a little, because the evening started well before this with the following facebook status “I feel like I’m getting ready for the prom.”  

Do you remember that feeling?  Waiting for that big photo op in someone’s parent’s back yard.  Putting on more make up in one night than you wore for the entire year combined.  Refraining from putting your hair in a ponytail.  Okay, I may have been a bit of a tomboy.

After lengthy debates around transportation, hotel rooms, and next morning obligations, we chose to take a cab downtown at 5 pm – two and a half hours before the show started – in order to grab dinner and drinks prior to entering the arena.

Clearly, we were not the only people with this plan.  Clearly. 

It is hard to describe this scene with unbiased accuracy. Because I would like to call every woman other than ourselves a hoochie.  However, I do know other people who attended the show that don’t fall into this category, so I probably should give some of these females the benefit of the doubt and assume they just wanted to get some liquor into them the same as me.

Since each restaurant on the street was bursting at the seams (including an HOUR wait at Corner Alley – why?  why would you wait that long at a bowling alley?) I made the executive decision to head towards the casino where we enjoyed our drinks two at a time after our B-Spot burgers and counted how many people were walking around with little Cuisenart hibachi grills????

Here is where I want to let you know that NKOTB concert goers fall into three categories of fashion:

Message Tees – either a concert t-shirt they have kept since the 80’s or a handmade job commanding “Donnie give me some grown man love” (not making that shit up).

Too Cool for School – the beotches that come dressed like they are clubbing (which I guess technically they could have been).  If you can pull it off, more power to you.  I just can’t imagine going to a concert in stilettos, minis and cleavage (well, maybe cleavage).  Perhaps that’s the hippy chick in me.

Just Trying Not to Look 40 – This would be my group.  Let’s just say some are more successful than others.  (I will admit there is an extremely small minority that can actually somehow look cool.  I’m pretty sure it’s not me.)

Once we felt ready (read: had consumed four drinks each) we walked back to the arena where Boys II Men had started playing, grabbed two beers each (basically, everything came in pairs for the evening in case that wasn't clear) and found our seats, which were twelve rows up behind the chairs at center stage.  This.

And technically it really WAS like prom because I’m pretty sure Boys II Men ballads were a requirement at ours.  I also gave G the “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” single cassette tape as a graduation gift.  Classy.

I am pleased to report that I apparently do not know a single 98 Degrees song (no, I do not know how to get the degree symbol on my keyboard, is there a special code?).  This is in spite of the fact that I actually own Nick Lachey’s solo album and watched Newlyweds fairly religiously.

The best part of this act though, is when they brought four “lucky ladies” on stage and each band member took turns singing to them.  One of them was seriously heading into an 1800’s fainting spell and I feared she’d break her neck falling off the bar stool.  I hope one of her friends had a paper bag for her to breathe into after Nick got to her.

And then…the moment we were waiting for.  After I peed for the five hundredth time.  OH!  I almost forgot.  All restrooms were changed into Women’s.  Well, I’m sure they left a couple Men’s but we walked into the closest one and I couldn’t believe it only had four stalls, but then I looked around the other wall and there was a row of urinals.  HA!

It is pretty much a blur for the remainder of the night so I’m proud of myself for taking those notes which probably start about halfway through the NKOTB set when they had their band on the center stage and occasionally slipped into doing covers, including what you thought was going to be Bon Jovi’s “Dead or Alive” but thankfully turned into something else, Joey singing George Michael’s “Faith”, Jordan singing Prince’s “Kiss” and Donnie doing Nelly’s “It’s Gettin’ Hot in Here” (of course he did).

And of course somewhere in there is D Dub having a make out session with some chick in the VIP area. (Do French kidsin, according to my notes), Joey Joe belting “Please Don’t Go, Girl” in slightly lower key than the original, Jordan in his traditional video stance that requires a fan to be blown at his billowing shirt and…wait for it…

Jonathon Knight SINGING.  If you are friends with me on facebook and braved playing my YouTube video of this rare phenomena, you already knew that.  For those that don’t understand the significance…Jon does NOT sing solo.  EVER.  And he cannot dance his way out of a paper bag.  He was basically in the group so there was never a tie when they voted on something.  And to look pretty.  And to pretend to be straight with Tiffany so they could have a love child that now works in my department.

At some point near the end of the show D Dub tears his shirt off and throws it into the crowd.  Riots ensue.  Biscuit gets involved.  (Biscuit is the name of the bodyguard that was in their cartoon.  Yes, I know this!)  Donnie is oblivious to the mayhem he creates.

Further insanity rages when the rap portion of “Games” is upon us (which I still pretty much have memorized thankyouverymuch).

And you may be wondering what “I do t care cat I live it.”means?  But it was really just them playing the song “I Love It” while they got ready for the “Hangin’ Tough” finale.  Not even sure why I felt the need to note it, although I do recall having to seriously pee again at that point.

And then it was over.

Depression. Sets. In.

Back, huh, stronger than ever, you think we'd sever? 

Never, we're too clever to be taken down clown 

By your ignorant state of mind, I ain't blind but 

Every time I look I find you dissin' a mission that 

Strictly be righteous, we gotta fight this so now I think I might just 

Take a stand, man, like never before, and I'm sure 

That we'll endure so now it's time to even the score 

I hear you knocking me but you ain't shocking me 

'cause jealousy is telling me that you're just jocking me 

So keep on talking skee, with pride I'm walking see, 

Because on anybody's block is where I'm gonna be rockin' gee. 

For real, yo!

Happy Birthday, G

Author's Note:  I wrote this two weeks ago while feeling nostalgic and decided to hold on to it for G's birthday.  You're welcome.

Countdown to The Package: Two months and nine days.

You may be wondering why a seemingly normal individual such as myself (okay, normal is loosely defined in this instance) maintains such a giddy, juvenile attachment to a boy band I couldn't even admit to liking for fear of public stoning back in the day when they were actually relevant (and relevant is also loosely defined in this instance). 

And though I would rather have stuck a fork in my eye than be seen at one of their concerts back in 1990, I am not hesitating to openly and publicly humilate myself on this blog, facebook, and potentially the windows of my car while driving down I-90 on June 9th.

Scott's humoring of these forays back to the sixteen-year-old version of myself that he never knew rank way above a reasonable level of expectation. Considering he has already endured me attending 2 solo Joe Mac and 1 solo Jordan Knight concert (from as far back in the room as possible to hide my shame) in addition to the NSYNC Celebrity Tour.  It seems to be his cross to bare (or bear?).

So hear is the only explanation I can offer...

NKOTB = D&G (not Dolce & Gabana in this scenario)

D&G = Just about every weekend from age 14 - 18 in the living room of D's parents home; drinking Pepsi from glass bottles, making mini pizza's from english muffins; writing fictional love stories one level below Sweet Valley High quality; having Dream A Little Dream, The Lost Boys, and Young Guns on continuous VCR loop; and jumping over "the line of insanity" which was actually a seam in D's mom's living room carpet.  (Also, I think I just made appropriate use of a semi-colon.)

High school weekends = Getting in D's car at 2 a.m. (G always in shotgun) and driving with the windows down no matter the temperature outside while blasting the Dead Milkmen and plotting out how quickly we would get out of Dodge after graduation. And driving back home once we ran out of things worthy of shouting about, because we couldn't talk in normal voices with the windows down.

2 a.m. car rides  = A feeling of contentedness that, despite the fact that grades 7 - 12 were the most awkward of my life, I had one place I could go and feel completely accepted.  I mean, they may have given me the nickname White Bread, but at least I knew they didn't care that I was.

Sure there have been other times in my life, and there have been and continue to be other people in my life, that make me feel that way, but that was the time I needed it the most.

So later when you see incriminating pictures of me Hanging Tough, rest assured I'm just reliving that moment in the fall of 1990, when I went for a red Topaz joy ride with my two best friends and breathed cold air into my lungs until I was shivering and wouldn't have traded that moment for anything in the world.

Tea Party Catch Up

What’s been going on? Oh, nothing. Just a little sadistic torture minus the fifty shades of Edward Cullen. My season of discontent with all entertainment award governing bodies. Three generations of Kirschners attempting to rid their homes of clutter by passing it off to each other. And The Package. That’s all. I should probably cover this in three different posts, but who am I kidding? I might not get back here until March.

First, my dear friend Beth got me the deal of the century at Fitness Revolution to do four weeks of boot camp. Thankfully, I’m not obligated to fight overseas when I’m done. And while the fetus arms are coming along, they have got quite a way to go.

Confirmed: I no longer know how to jump rope. I’m serious. It can’t be done.

Also confirmed: The more I do mountain climbers, the more I hate them. The more I do mountain climbers on sliders, the more I want to throw a kettle bell at Dan’s head. I’m willing to go up to 22 pounds on that one if it makes him feel better.

Consolation: I may not be able to do many push ups in a row, but damned if my ass is NOT sticking up in the air like some other people’s are. (Nobody I know personally, of course.)

Additional consolation: I no longer feel like I’m going to drop one of those slam ball thingys on my head. So I’ve got that going for me. Which is nice.

What happens next? Well, I have 5 classes to go, but I think it’s safe to say, I will be just as motivated to get off my ass as I was when I started, so Melissa has some work cut out for her as my personal fitness champion. On the bright side, I should be able to zip my jeans up easier for at least a week.

* * *
Next up…as far as the Golden Globes and SAG awards are concerned…

Dear Tina Fey and Amy Poehler,
I want to have your children. Perfect opening monologue and just kept getting better. Can you please host all award shows from here on out?

Dear Jodie Foster,
I have no argument against anything I think you meant to say. The problem is I'm not exactly sure you meant to say what I think you meant to say, because you were practically incoherent. Train of thought. Please stick to one.

Dear HFPA,
I get this feeling you don’t actually watch television. Probably because you are above it. But I'm going on record to say Girls is the most over-rated show currently on television. I watch it. I occasionally enjoy it. I think Lena Dunham relies heavily on the shock value of letting herself be filmed naked. And I think you want desperately to appear hip enough to "get" it. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I don't "get" it. I also don't get how Smash even gets a nomination over Veep, Louie, 30 Rock, Parks & Rec, or New Girl? Other notable drama snubs...Walking Dead, Sons of Anarchy, and Game of Thrones. How do these not even get mentioned and that hack job Nashville does? Lastly, there is absolutely no reason that Benedict Cumberbatch should not have won for Sherlock. Not with that competition (or lack there of). I could expect this at the Emmy's or some People's Choice Award, because people haven't seen it. But how could you ignore the sheer genius of this man playing a sheer genius? Shame!

Dear SAG card holders,
The category Best Acting by an Ensemble in a Motion Picture is not the same as Best Motion Picture. I almost want to let this slide, because I really do want Ben Affleck to get his moment since other people seem to want him to fail for some reason. And I’m definitely fine with him getting the Golden Globe and if he wins the Oscar. But Argo and Zero Dark Thirty are plot driven. Silver Linings Playbook and Best Exotic Marigold Hotel are character driven. Character = Acting. This doesn’t seem like a hard concept.

Dear Anne Hathaway,
Give any and all awards you win for Les Miserables to Eddie Redmayne. And please stop pretending your speeches are so spontaneous. Also, do not compare your career to Sally Fields. She was GIDGET for Christ sakes. You will never come close to how cool that is.

Dear Jennifer Lawrence,
Please never turn into Anne Hathaway.

* * *
On to the anti-hoarding efforts.

For the past few years, 9 times out of 10, when I show up at my grandma’s, I leave with something she’s looking to get rid of. This is great for me when it’s a cool serving piece for the china cabinet or a truck load of blue mason jars. She’s also come to a point in her life that she wants people to have certain mementos, which are often things that we originally gave to her as presents. This is also fine. But I’m telling you right now, if I get back the soap dispenser shaped like a toilet that says “Hey, don’t forget to wash your hands” when you walk by, it is immediately being wrapped up for the Cousin Christmas white elephant gift exchange. Sorry, Granny.

Coinciding with my mother’s retirement and my brother’s second exodus from my parent’s home, my father has commenced what I’m going to refer to as The Great Excavation. Much like at my grandmother’s, I’m very likely to be presented with items that have been found in the attic or basement during one of his archeological digs. Unlike my grandma’s, it is more likely to be a piece of crap from the 80s that should never have been saved to begin with (example: box of cassette tapes). Fortunately, my dad doesn’t seem to have a problem with putting them at the curb if I wrinkle my nose at him.

To top this off, Scott and I (mostly Scott) have been trying to redefine our own basement in order to fit his many Storage Wars projects. We have been pretty brutal. It actually started before Christmas when I gave a big plastic tub full of Christmas decorations to my sister-in-law Barbi (welcome to the family), moved on to the monthly culling of any toy I could potentially impale myself with if (read: when) left on the carpet, and finished up with the disposal of all things superfluous that covered the tree lawn this morning for bulk pick up. Sometimes I wonder how I get so much crap. Then I read the above two paragraphs.

* * *
Finally. Just in case you were wondering. The Package has been purchased. And just in case you don’t know what The Package is. It is the NKOTB – 98 Degrees – BoysIIMen tour. The Package will be in town June 9 if you are planning to block me on Facebook or Instagram. The Package is the best name they could have ever come up with for this event. EVER.

Celebrity Death Match: Duff McKagan vs. Joey McIntyre

Okay, it’s a no brainer – Duff would beat the shit out of him. However…

As a counter-point to last week’s video breakdown, and in an effort of full disclosure that I was not nearly cool enough to hang with the GNR crowd in my high school, I now offer the other half of my teenage fantasies.

Where Duff was, let’s face it, mostly just to imagine the look of horror on my parents’ faces if I brought home a mid-twenties alcoholic/druggie with big hair; Joey was the boy next door I had an entire wall of Tiger Beat posters dedicated to.

Considering my best friends in the entire world had nicknamed me “white bread” by this point, it was much more realistic. If you consider marrying a beloved member of a heavily marketed boy band realistic. (Which I totally do.)

Though the Hangin’ Tough video would have been the most likely to be on heavy rotation at the same exact time as Patience, it’s mostly concert footage, so other than hideous fashion trends, there’s not much to talk about. Contrariwise, watching Joey sing Please Don’t Go Girl in his pre-puberty voice is now excruciating.

So forgive me for jumping ahead a year to Step By Step. (Note: I have been training for this post my whole life.)


Of course we have to get the fashion comments out of the way first. I mean…just…it is 1990, people and there are MANY wardrobe changes. I couldn’t possibly say all that needs to be said.

Danny Wood and the sideways hat. Donnie Wahlberg and his wannabeagangsta thug-wear. Jordan Knight in OVERALLS? Are we on a farm? That doesn’t LOOK like a farm. Joey is not innocent in this, by any stretch, but his clothes get overshadowed by his Puff Chick, mop-top hairdo that screams for a douse of conditioner. I’m actually giving Jonathon Knight a pass from the Fashion Police and vote him Most Likely to Not be Looked at Anyway. (I love you, Jon, just calling it like it was.)

Then there is the artsy video technique of the black and white film where the important parts have been colored in, but by someone who no longer owns a “Flesh” colored Crayola crayon. THIS is NKOTB kicking it up a notch. Got it.

Okay, back to the beginning. You might not know this if you haven’t seen every video that NKOTB ever made…several hundred times…but Jordan likes to stand in front of big fans - the kind that move air, not overweight groupies. Even better if he is wearing a shirt that is unbuttoned to flap around in the artificial breeze. It is unclear if he finds this dramatic or he just farts a lot.

And now we begin to see how much fancier their footwork has become since the early days. (This is the part where Jon is cut out most of the time. That boy could NOT dance.)

Donnie is starting to try to establish some street cred. What better way than to ride around on a motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket? Oh, yeah…DON’T BE IN A BOY BAND!

Danny wants to establish that he is very tough and possibly using steroids. What better way to do this than to pump some iron? Oh, yeah…DON’T BE IN A BOY BAND!

Joey wants to establish that he is just like Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. What better way to do this than by dressing in tails and dancing with his shadow? Yeah, just keep doing what you’re doing, Joe.

For some reason they try to make the Sprinkler dance move look cool. Duff McKagan couldn’t make the Sprinkler dance move look cool. Give it up.

Jordan acts like he is conducting a small orchestra. Probably they are thinking, please take your smelly ass back over to that fan and leave making music to the true professionals.

And then we calm it down for each guy’s little solo. Danny sounds like the gorilla he is. Donnie tries to tone down his bad boy persona with some humor. Jordan’s falsetto is like fingernails on a blackboard. Joey, if you take away the too-big jacket, is actually adorable. And in yet another strange twist of fate, Jon pulls off looking like the most talented of the bunch (which he probably was).

(Sidebar to any of my co-workers reading this blog…is it just me or does one of my staff look crazy similar to Jon at minute 3:00? Could he be Tiffany and Jon’s love child? Given up for adoption as they toured their way across the midwest? It’s chronologically feasible.)

A little bit later, the boys have fun stealing what looks to be a script out of Jon’s hands as he casually hangs out backstage. Are you kidding me? There was a SCRIPT to this thing? Or are we to assume Jon is so popular that he has to spend his downtime reading Movie of the Week offers instead of learning the dance moves?

Seriously, he is missing from every shot on the stairs. I think there may have been some sort of liability about him falling off them.

Enter Marky Mark and Funky Bunch to play a little B-Ball with big brother. Huh?

All in all there is too much Jordan and Donnie, not enough Joey and Jon. As far as I am concerned Danny Wood does not exist. It’s like…who IS that guy? Was he ANYONE’S favorite?

And close on Donnie eating an apple. He’s just like you and me, except he eats apples while making music videos with his boy band.

Flash forward to present day…

Duff McKagan - Clean and sober; one class shy of a Finance degree; writer for both the Seattle Weekly and ESPN.com

Joey McIntyre – Still going on booze cruises with the old gang; surrounded by Approaching, On, and Over the Hill former groupies that may or may not have changed their hairstyles in the last two decades. (Which I would totally be on if I wasn’t married with kids.)

Duff’s not looking so bad now, Mom, is he?

Additional author’s note: This will be my last video break down for a while. Don’t leave me. Also, if you are with Joe Mac, please don't sue me for using that photograph, I am totally linking back to that page here. I think I used the word "totally" in this blog three times. Am I twelve?