VIVA'S PICTURES OF THE INFAMOUS "DURAN DURAN ENCOUNTER"

They were a long time coming, but oh so very worth it. As friends of mine know, I will forever have a chunk of 13-year-old Durannie wedged in my heart. I, along with Viva friends Jen and Christine recently saw Duran Duran in our neck of the woods, and was fortunate enough to follow the sage advice of Christine who suggested after the show that we "hang out by the side door and see if the band comes out!" YAY CHRISTINE!!!! It's funny to see a bunch of thirtysomething women jockey for the best spot to reach the band. You know that your old whorish friend here was RIGHT at the front of the pack. I would not be dissuaded, dammit!

First, a picture from the show itself. They really put on some concert--I danced like a moron, and am proud of it. Don't they look festive? Well you can't really see them but, you get the idea:
















Next we have Nick, who came out first. Nick Rhodes has been buffed to a high sheen, and has nary a wrinkle on his face. Is it Lancome? Is it sandblasting? I should ask him.
















Here's our friend Roger who, in Viva's opinion, looks the hottest out of ALL of them. Viva's advice--always hit up the drummer. They have the rythym!!!! He's not as tall as I expected, but as a short girl myself, this just ensures a better fit, should we ever meet again, fall in love, have little Durans, buy a house in the French Countryside..... that sort of thing.

















Finally, here is Simon, who is looks pretty darn good for being the oldest of the bunch (Viva suspects a face life and Botox, but one can never be sure). Word on the street is that Simon is a dog who cheats on his wife of 20 years (the very hot Yasmin LeBon), but he seemed very polite and well behaved when we met him, so who knows? Maybe he got laid BEFORE the show?
















And here is stupid John Taylor. You might be wondering if I took this picture. I didn't. John, wuss that he is, ran off to the tour bus, giving the fans only an over-the-shoulder wave. Um, hello, it's not 1985 anymore and this isn't Madison Square Garden there, Skeletor. You should be happy to still have fans. Whatever, John! I am over you. Some women love men who treat them like shit, but Viva isn't one of them. I will pine for the short but rythymic Roger now--screw you! Wow, I am on a roll, how else can I slag him? Hmmm. Okay, you look like the Cryptkeeper anyway! Calcium, it's what's for dinner. Food is for dinner too--John may want to try that sometime. Who likes throwing around an anorexic man? Yuck. Bastards.




The show was awesome and meeting them was pretty darn cool, even in spite of JT's brush-off. If you need an 80s fix and like men in make-up, definitely check out one of their shows. And hang out by the side door afterwards. And grope Roger for me, if you get the chance--thanks!

YOU CAN NEVER GO HOME AGAIN.....



I know I am supposed to be blogging about my Rochester Exploits, and perhaps all those pictures of Britney Spears' Unfortunate Vagina (she's a shaver, with the stubble to prove it), and trust me I will, but today I am going to bore you with my own personal angst.

Basically, it looks as if we have finally found a buyer for my parents' home, which I own with my sister, and due to the fact that my parents had the sense to migrate from the South Bronx to the suburbs of NYC, I am going to make myself a nice chunk of change. I should be happy about this, right? One would think. But I wouldn't be me if I wasn't pissy about something.

I am happy to be free of the financial burden of keeping a second house, happy that, in a few short weeks, I will no longer have any financial ties to my, uh, interesting, sister, happy to pay off that nagging Am Ex card I abuse...

But I miss my mom and dad. And selling off the house is the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. Viva here bounced around more in her 20s and early 30s than I can remember--this apartment, that apartment, this boyfriend, that boyfriend. But whenever things got hairy (and with my penchant for drama, they often did), there was always home to go to. So it sucks to see your history be sold to the highest bidder. I guarantee you I will bawl through the closing, bawl as they write me that big fat check, and bawl when I see the moving vans pull up to the house. Yeah, money is great, but she ain't everything.

I am grateful though, to have the awesome parents that I have, who busted their asses so that we idiot children of theirs would be taken care of. Wherever you are, Mom and Dad, thanks.

I know I am going to get emails about this post being a bummer, but you can always expect some sort of random cheerfulness from your old friend. So here, in no particular order, are some of the things I plan to do with my financial windfall--why squirrel it away when I can spend with abandon? So I am thinking:

1. Pottery Barn. All of it. Everything. Whatever they have, I want.
2. Enough plastic surgery to turn me into Rachel McAdams but not so much as to morph me into Jocelyn Wildenstein)--nip it, tuck it, pull it up, under, over, or suck it out. Give me the works!
3. A hitman to kill Jessica and Ashlee Simpson since they both annoy the crap out of me. Talentless hacks.
4. A Full-Time Personal Trainer from Fitness Together, who can whip my ass into shape. Or just stand there and flex for my amusement. Whatever. I am game!
5. Back to Ireland, this time with all the Scranton gang, because we would really have The Best Time Ever--there are no people more fun than the Irish!
6. A doggy hypnotherapist to delve into why my dog hates cars, baths, and basically everything I want him to do.
7. Booze and hookers!
8. That new Playstation 3, just cause I can.
9. A studio apartment in NYC--some people get mountain homes, or shore houses--give me a crash pad in the big city, and I am happy. I miss Brother Jimmys. Fishbowls for everyone!
10. Building the new Melrose Place, wherein all the Scranton Girls and Gays can have houses side by side, drink too much wine, and grow old together like the Golden Girls.

Okay, I am kidding, I am not going to do any of these things (although the hitman idea intrigues me). Chances are, it will all go into some dippy retirement fund, so I can rest assured that someday I can pay someone to change my diapers and puree my food for me while I chew on a sock.

But, if you see me in the upcoming months and I can no longer move my face, the plastic surgeon thing might have happened. Even if I can't smile, know I am happy to see you!

THE LOVE STORY THAT WAS PAM AND KID ROCK...

Everyone knows by now that Pam and Kid Rock are overoverover, after a scant 3 months of marriage, but apparently a screening of Borat was the reason for the pair splitting up? According to the New York Post, Pam and Kid went to a screening of the movie (the premise of which includes Borat coming to America to meet and marry Pamela Anderson), and Kid hated the movie and called Pam a "slut" and a laughingstock and whatnot for being in it in the first place. Pammy was one of the few people IN on the joke, and Jesus, Borat is kicking ass in the theaters. Kid Rock should be thrilled (think of all the wife beater t-shirts he can buy with her money), but instead, he trashes her. Ain't that nice?

I am not saying Pamela Anderson isn't a slut. She very well may be. She's sort of made a big career of it (well, that and her boobs). But, um, wasn't Kid Rock AWARE of said sluttiness BEFORE he married her? Wasn't the fact that she was a Big Blond Tramp the very thing that attracted him to her in the first place? HELLO!!!!! This seems to be one of those Man Issues I don't get: the very things that makes a girl attractive to a guy when they first meet are usually the things that guys end up hating in the long run. Can someone explain this? Men complain that women "change" after they get married; women complain that men don't change. General grumpiness, resentment, and a Siberian Sex Life usually ensues until the lawyers are summoned. It ain't pretty, people. I am sure Pam will sit for an interview with Cosmo about why she always picks men with "anger issues." We women never learn, that's why.

Viva actually went to a Kid Rock show back in her NYC days (hey, the tickets were free), and he was surprisingly good in concert. Maybe Kid should stick to the stage instead of the altar, eh? At least they have the memories of their 5 weddings (all booze-soaked and bikini-laden) to keep them warm over the holidays. Maybe there's a sex tape to look forward to????? Yeesh.

SHUFFLING OFF TO BUFFALO



Well, not quite. I took a last-minute trip to the fun city of Rochester, NY this past weekend with my niece to see my dear friend Jill, and am still too traumatized from Wegmans Withdrawal to type about all the fun we had. Hot Roch-cha-cha memories to be discussed include "The Dirty Hateful Hippie," "Risking Our Lives for the Madonna Mix at The Garage Door," "Southern Comfort is the Devil (aka, "No potato is ugly at 2 a.m.)," "Naked Bike Rides and Misspent Youth," "My Niece, the Happy Trisexual," "Callie, My Hot Blonde Bedmate," "Family Brunches and Dirty Jokes (Why The Cahills Rock)," "Sucking at Both Scrabble AND Scene It," "Hot Tubs are Beyond Awesome" and "The Longest Bus Ride Ever." I'll have a full update tomorrow, but for now I want to sulk and click on the Wegman's website until my fingers bleed.

Wegmans, for the uninitiated, is like, the Best Grocery Store Ever. It's not even a grocery store. It's like Disneyland for food. People walk around all happy, and they should be. I mean, the bakery alone could bring tears to a PMSing woman's heart. There is NOTHING like this in my neck of the Great White North. Nothing like this in the burbs of NYC either. People, we have been ROBBED. Wegmans will never come my way, due to the stranglehold of the Evil PriceChopper Empire, but I can hope. Honestly, Wegmans could make me move to Rochester. It's that good.

It's a sad, sad day when things like grocery stores get me hot and bothered. Did I mention the Cheese section? Sweet Jesus! Since I am Clawing and Scratching My Way Back Into My Old Clothes, I am avoiding cheese, but I think even looking at the display can make you gain weight. Sigh.

Also tomorrow, back to my usual rants: First up, The Demise of Pam and Kid Rock. Christ, if these two crazy kids can't make it work, what hope is there for any of us???? At least they had the sense to end it before they started breeding, but still.

The world is going to hell in a handbasket.