The Zadge has just returned from the Top Secret Day Job’s Holiday Party. She had planned to give you a sober, well-written post.
Unlike her usual vodka-drenched, rambling posts.
Except the TSDJ Holiday Party involved a secret pre-party, involving the imbibing of fine Irish Whiskey, and an empty stomach coming on the heels of an hour long workout in the gym, as well as the Zadge deciding to pretend she was handicapped in order to sneak Griswald — Ross from Friends is off shooting poor innocent elk somewhere in southern Colorado — into the restaurant where the TSDJ Holiday Party was being held.
She was mildly offended that just opening her mouth to speak convinced the restaurant staff that she actually needed the service dog.
So take the following with a grain of drunken salt:
The Zadge watched the 12-12-12 concert last night and thinks it may well have had the most spectacular line-up of musicians of any of these benefit concert-things. She enjoyed every moment of it, except for the extended Pink Floyd segment since she wasn’t stoned.
And Jon Bon Jovi is still hot and beautiful, even with a gelatinous muffin top he tried to hide under first, a tight leather shirt and then, a black turtleneck.
And Bruce Springsteen makes 62 the new 42.
And then there were all the 68-year-old-ish rockers: Roger Daltrey, Pete Townshend, Roger Waters, Eric Clapton, Billy Joel, Mick Jagger, and of course, the Zadge’s boo, Keith Richards. The boys can still rock. And yes, Eric Clapton looked — by far — the best. My boo? Let’s just say he’s a tad bit craggier than the rest. But far slimmer than Billy Joel.
Then there were all the funny men the Zadge loves – Jon Stewart, Adam Sandler (the Zadge thinks he might be tall and kind of wants to marry him), and Stephen Colbert.
And whats-his-name from Coldplay, who came out and sang solo – beautifully – and thankfully without any mention or show of his annoying wife The Goop, and then did a duo with Michael Stipe, who is not much older than the Zadge but looked like Father Time on a starvation diet in a land without razors.
There was a woeful lack of chick performers. Alicia Keys played a few numbers, but the Zadge can’t tell you what they were because she was distracted by Alicia’s new haircut. The Zadge even texted the Sista saying, “Hey, have you seen Alicia’s new do? Looks good!”
Because the ever-evolving state of celebrity haircuts is very important to the Zadge and the Sista.
And the Zadge would like to tell you more about the end of the 674-hour concert for Sandy, but she fell asleep on the couch about 132 hours into it and, apparently, missed the reunion of the Beatles, including the dead ones.
But the concert had a profound affect on her. One she didn’t even realize until about 2:30 this afternoon.
When she strolled down to her hair salon, with the sole intent of buying new hair product and scheduling an appointment for a haircut in about a month. And saw her hairdresser (the owner of the salon) and had a two minute conversation about the state of The Goose, and ten minutes and three inches later, the Zadge walked out as Alicia Keys with her hot bob from the concert last night. Minus the thick, beautiful hair. And the talent. And the money.
But really, who needs those things?!
So there you have it. The Zadge is sort of drunk. Griswald is wreaking havoc in her house with Harry and Bugs for the weekend. And the Zadge, who has been impatiently growing out The Goose for 18 months and has sworn never to have short hair again, chops off her hair on a whim.