Madonna

My tip of the day? Don't wear new and untested underwear when you will be standing for hours and hours. That is the life lesson I learned on Sunday. What a day Sunday was. Adam and I got to the stadium at about 2 and took our place in the already long line and settle in for the long wait for the stadium to open. I have to say, and I have already discussed this at length with Adam, that I was quite let down by his lack of preparation. The Adam I know and love (with a little 'l') would have had a picnic basket full of all sorts of yummy goodies all done in a Madonna theme such as 'express yourself macaroni and cheese', 'Justify my deviled eggs' and 'Hung-up on coleslaw', which would have been thoughtfully served on a nice Laura Ashley blanket in a subtle print so we could pass the time in comfort and enviable luxury. No such luck. We ended up stuffing ourselves full of luke-warm hot dogs from the vendors while waiting for the rest of our group to arrive.

The Wizard once referred to the Tin Man as "a clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk" (if you don't know what caliginous means, look it up. Wow your friends and impress your colleagues by making it your very own word of the day, casually yet correctly dropping it discreetly into otherwise caliginous compound sentences such as this one) and that basically sums up the line that we were in and nobody lived up to that description more than Judith. Judith was just one illegitimate child and a pole dance away from having her own chair on the Jerry Springer podium. She was like a stripe and star covered purple planet with badly bleached hair in need of a good shampoo, way too much purple eyeshadow, upper lip piercing and the obligatory ugly breast tattoo. Yes, there she was, all wrapped up in a too-small fake rabbit jacket that was in desperate need of retirement. Of course Judith thought she was the epitome of cool and made sure she was loud enough for everyone to see and hear her. Of course I knew I wanted to write about her and so Adam and I kept looking at her to make jokes, but we are pretty sure she thought we were looking at her because we were envious... At one point she and the rest of her trailer-park entourage broke out into a badly sung medley of Madonna classics which almost had our hot dogs coming back to the surface.

After 4 hours of Judith, her posse and the guy next to us who kept humming "Like a Virgin" and dancing while bumping into Adam, the gates opened and in we all ran to secure our place as close to the stage as possible. We did very well and ended up about 10 meters away from the end, close enough to see the fly away strands on Maddy's hair and the sweat fly off the dancers. It was a far cry from my usual seat that lets me lean against the back wall all the way in the highest row, far enough away that even binoculars are useless. For once, it was nice to see people behind me and know that those sitting in my usual seat were wishing they were me. The show was great, however the performance of "Like a Virgin" on the merry-go-round styled motorcycle seat didn't quite live up to when she performed the same song while refusing to compromise her artistic integrity, choosing to simulate masturbation and orgasm on a red velvet bed. Those were the days.

I have often heard it said that there is no such thing as a free lunch, and I paid for Sunday's festivities all day Monday with something resembling a stomach flu which was so bad, I was forced to do the unthinkable. I sold my ticket for the Monday night show. And not even for a profit.

But the day did have a bright spot... Tom Cruise gave Brooke Shields a heart-felt apology that has mended their friendship. It makes me so happy, I want to jump up and down on Oprah's sofa.