i gotta new attitude

I've had a face lift and I didn't even have to leave blogspot. Obviously "chuntress" has had a little reconstructive surgery, not me. I was getting bored of black. As I said to Ralph the other day, "g(r)ay is the new black." Everything manages to be the new black at some point or another so I don't really know how much weight that saying has. Regardless, I'm going to ride out the wave of gray being insanely sexy, stylish, and much more myterious than black (Viktor & Rolf are totally going gray).

A true visionary can successfully pull off a reinvention. I mean, Madonna has done it so why can't I? Madonna has also had a face lift (she could use another), so why can't I? My blog has just gone from "Material Girl" to "Bedtime Stories" in like 30 seconds. As I always like to remind you, my reader, be jealous!

No worries, content will remain the same--unentertaining recounts of my drunk weekends, the cicular ramblings of my love life (wanting one and not wanting one), complaints, absurd fantasies, my love of Vogue magazine, frivilious spending (eventhough I'm broke), bitching, hating, and those special posts where I see the light of God and say something that makes me seem like a compassionate being. Welcome, kittens.

*Madge circa Bedtime Stories era

vadge, the queen of slop

Well it's been over a month (and I thought I was treating my blog bad last time). I've decided to get back to basics and ressurect le blog.

Things are going well. I've officially recognized that I am resistant to growing up, I want my afternoons back so I can do young starlet things--drink from "The Bean," morph into a girl who gags (ladies who lunch), shop uncontrolably, and go see new releases at 2:30--and I've realized that I should lay off the sauce (old men).

I'm at work physically (new job going well), but mentally I'm in my closet, because my dream of dancing with Madonna in a leotard may come true tomorrow. While I've been pinching pennies for the last two weeks (it's so bad that I can't even afford toilet paper) to pay for a $250 floor seat at the MGM Grand to see Madge drop it like it's hot (and at her age it's a wonder if she can bring it back up) I think it might, might be worth it.

I'm horribly annoyed by her L.A. show reviews. Apparently she up to her old tricks--hanging from crosses (so done, so Like A Prayer), whipping some sassy gay ass in S&M riding gear, and requesting no air conditioning in the venue. I'm so annoyed by her person. I just feel like her attempts to shock don't work anymore. I think she shocked us all when she put on that fug dress and starting hawking that p.o.s book about roses (wth that accent of course). She's nuts. I've also heard that she is steady pushing her political agenda, flashing photos of George W. and Hitler during "I love New York." Hmmm she's charges $250 for a seat to watch her perform and then has the audacity to be political? Hypocrisy at its best, I say. Stephanie asked if I'm so annoyed why am I going? I responded, "She still kicks balls, it's Madonna--Vadge, the Queen of Slop"

what say you?

Don't you love how no matter which of Shakespearian plays you choose to read someone says, "what say you"? I find it rather endearing...I think I'm going to borrow it from Willy for a while.

So what say you to this...

I have begun giving some thought to my high school reunion, despite the fact that it's 5 years away. I plan on going. I know most people choose to sit theirs out, but I feel mine will be worth attending (I just hope people show up). I'm looking forward to hearing everyone's stories about what they've done, where they attended college, how many children they have, their jobs etc. In high school I was rather bitchy and didn't care too much about other people unless it meant my trumping on their happiness and seeing them wallow in disappointment because I was right and they were wrong. I've changed....a little. Regardless of the circumstances I'm going to wow the pants off of those kids with this story.

I will waltz into some dingy hotel ballroom, clad in a Zac Posen frock and a pair of Loboutin's. I will have a date no doubt, but he won't be a boyfriend. Rather, my date will be some fantasical being who does cool things like design websites, indulge in chi chi chocolates and tell me that the term "maven" is not gender specific. After collecting my name tag and a glass of champagne--it won't be Veuve Clicquot, Dom or Perrier-Jouet, so I won't be pleased, but will sip anyway--I will make my rounds. Then in all of my splendor I will begin to tell the story of how I went to Madonna's tour (Vegas, Memorial Day Weekend, 2006). She saw me because I had floor seats and invited me (and Ralph) to come on the stage with her and dance. We gleefully accepted her invitation but where soon taken away by a skinny (but hot) circuit queen wearing purple hotpants, dancing boots and wrist cuffs. "Circie" as I called him took us backstage and outfitted us both in purple leotards, flesh colored footless tights and glittered round-toe pumps then pushed us back onto the stage. We sang all the classics--Vogue, Like a Prayer, Frozen, Secret, Like a Virgin, Burn'in up. Madonna then announced that we were her biggest and most sexy fans. We would be touring with her for the remainder of her career and we operate with a caliber like no other. After that, we made the front page of all the celebrity ragazines and we've been reaping the benefits ever since.

Now, What say you?