I apologize, faithful readers. My blog is late this week, but it was for a very good reason, I promise. My sister and I had tickets to see Duran Duran last night. For the seventh time.
The first time Kim and I ever saw the fab five, she was fourteen and I was eleven. Back then, the pre-conversation went something like this:
"I'm going to marry Nick Rhodes. Who are you going to marry?"
"John Taylor. Missy in my math class thinks she's going to marry him, but I'm going to tell John what a dirty skankbag she is, so then he'll marry me for sure."
"Look. There's Simon Le Bon. AIEEEEEEE!"
Times, they are a-changin'. As I looked around at the audience last night, I wondered why the woman three rows up was still trying to rock the Pat Benetar look when Pat's been hawking Metamucil on TV lately. At least my sister and I were still fabulously young. This was our pre-concert talk:
"Those are cute jeans. JC Penney's?"
"No, Jen at work is on the divorce diet and gave me her old 'fat' jeans. Don't you love the embroidery?"
"I hope John Taylor started dyeing his hair again. He was too gray the last time I saw him. Who do you think he uses, Lady Clairol?"
"I'm guessing Nice 'n Easy. I've found it does a much better job on the roots."
"Look. There's Simon Le Bon. AIEEEEEE!"
I have to admire the guys for rocking on stage for two whole hours without gasping for air and clutching their backs, like my sister and I were doing after thirty minutes of semi-dancing in the aisle. Sure, Nick Rhodes looks a little pudgy and Roger Taylor has a few crow's feet around his eyes, but they still looked and sounded great ... as did Kim and I and every other forty-something woman in the audience. Because trust me, every person in that audience was a forty-something reliving her fantasies of youth.
Once the show ended at 10:30, Kim asked me if I wanted to gamble. We were at the casino, after all.
"Heck, no. It's way past my bed time. Let's go to the hotel and see if we can catch a 'Brady Bunch' rerun."
Okay, so a few things have changed since 1984. But our love for Duran Duran remains the same.
The first time Kim and I ever saw the fab five, she was fourteen and I was eleven. Back then, the pre-conversation went something like this:
"I'm going to marry Nick Rhodes. Who are you going to marry?"
"John Taylor. Missy in my math class thinks she's going to marry him, but I'm going to tell John what a dirty skankbag she is, so then he'll marry me for sure."
"Look. There's Simon Le Bon. AIEEEEEEE!"
Times, they are a-changin'. As I looked around at the audience last night, I wondered why the woman three rows up was still trying to rock the Pat Benetar look when Pat's been hawking Metamucil on TV lately. At least my sister and I were still fabulously young. This was our pre-concert talk:
"Those are cute jeans. JC Penney's?"
"No, Jen at work is on the divorce diet and gave me her old 'fat' jeans. Don't you love the embroidery?"
"I hope John Taylor started dyeing his hair again. He was too gray the last time I saw him. Who do you think he uses, Lady Clairol?"
"I'm guessing Nice 'n Easy. I've found it does a much better job on the roots."
"Look. There's Simon Le Bon. AIEEEEEE!"
I have to admire the guys for rocking on stage for two whole hours without gasping for air and clutching their backs, like my sister and I were doing after thirty minutes of semi-dancing in the aisle. Sure, Nick Rhodes looks a little pudgy and Roger Taylor has a few crow's feet around his eyes, but they still looked and sounded great ... as did Kim and I and every other forty-something woman in the audience. Because trust me, every person in that audience was a forty-something reliving her fantasies of youth.
Once the show ended at 10:30, Kim asked me if I wanted to gamble. We were at the casino, after all.
"Heck, no. It's way past my bed time. Let's go to the hotel and see if we can catch a 'Brady Bunch' rerun."
Okay, so a few things have changed since 1984. But our love for Duran Duran remains the same.
Kim and me, ten years from now. Okay, maybe five.
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