Like a virgin ... HEY!

I haven't felt like a virgin in quite a while, but I had high hopes that I could revisit my fully-hymened youth at the Madonna concert on Tuesday. Unfortunately, I left feeling freshly fucked without so much as a kiss ...

This was Madge's first trip to KC, so decided to drop $60 (cheap seats) and make memories with my gal pals. We had a great time, lots of laughs and lots of gawking and interesting Madonna get-ups, but I left with a feeling of "meh" instead of "FUCK YEAH!"

I was hoping for some stuff from the 80s and 90s and while she sang a couple of "oldies," the majority of her two hour show was on her new stuff, of which I'm not a big fan. That's my only bitch. She looked and sounded FANTASTIC, had a great stage show, and laid down some sick visuals (blood spattered back drop as she "shot her lovers in the head." For a minute I thought she may have extracted the lyrics from my head ... :).

The first half of the show I spent shifting back and forth trying to see the show around a woman I've dubbed "old lady boogie pants." She stood at the oddest times and did what can only be described as a gypsy sway as she shook her scarf around her head.

To top it off, she had big, teased hair and a bedazzled jacket. It took all that I had not to "accidentally" push her to see if the bedazzled jacket was heavy enough to keep her rolling all the way down to section 132. I kid ...



Note: this is not Old Lady Boogie Pants, but this is a reminder to never, ever wear a stupid hat like this.
Or Bedazzle anything.

In the midst of revisiting my youth, I moved to a new apartment. I'm convinced that as soon as movers see that it's just a single girl, they take their sweet ass time and think it's OK to waste time flirting.

If you recall the tale of my move last year with "Black tooth Kenny," I was bound and determined not to be swindled into giving one of the movers my phone number just to shut them up and get them out of my place.

Thankfully, I was not placed in that position this year, but I did have to lay the smack down on "Chatty Manny" who spent more time trying to be witty than moving my shit. I finally told him that I was paying him, he needed to stop talking and work! I'M SPIFFY BITCH!

Four hours and $416 later, they left me to re-build my life in a big, white box with one closet.  If you couldn't tell by the tone, this apartment wasn't one of my best choices, but I'll make it work like I always do.

On an interesting side note, I found out my old friend "Meat" lives in the apartments right behind me.  Who knows, I may end up getting "into the groove" and crossing the "borderline" after all (insert Madonna song references with sexual undertones ... ).

Out.