Let's reminisce about the days of high school. I had horrible hair and wore mutli-colored nail polish back then...circa 1994. One of my favorite classes was drafting. I wanted to be an architect because I thought it would be neat to design floor plans. No one in my family was an architect and hardly any went to college (save some who are nurses now, God bless them), but I knew my heart-shaped pool designs and lofts overlooking the great room would be more than awesome.
Drafting combined things I enjoyed most: art and math. Yes, math. I liked pythagorean's theorem, SOH-CAH-TAO (that's how you get sine, cosine and tangent for all of you folks out there), and all the like. I did not, however, enjoy elipses and hyperboles. Sorry, I got math carried away. I'm a nerd.
The first year of drafting consisted of T-squares, drawing tables, triangles and three (yes 3!) different sizes of mechanical pencils. Each pencil had its purpose people.
My second year of drafting consisted of computer aided drafting (we were high tech back in 1995 and was sorry to see no Oregon Trail on the giant green screen computer). My class size was larger than the amount of computers available so guess who had to partner up? The only two girls in the freakin' place. Was I mad that I didn't have my own computer? Not really, I mean, we didn't have FaceSpace back then and all you could do is play minesweeper. My partner, Stacy, was pretty cool and we shared our like of drafting. I don't think she enjoyed the math per se but nonetheless we were partners.
During this most impressionable time in a young person's life, our drafting teacher Mr. Parke showed us video on the Tacoma Narrow's Bridge (Galloping Gertie). After watching this video, I decided at that moment I wanted to become an engineer. Take a gander at the video and see the destruction of a famous bridge in the 1940s.
Thanks to my best good friend Shannon, I have stills of this video in my office to remind myself why I'm here.
Thank you Hillary at the Other Mama for yet another fantastic Friday Favorite Carnival! I love a good corn dog!
It has been documented that I *may* have met my teen idol Donnie Wahlberg. Ever since the "Right Stuff" video, I have had a ginormous crush on this man. Was it his ripped jeans, his cardigan, his mulltet, his earring, his lack of singing ability? Yes, all of the above. You see, I was in 6th grade when I first heard of these boys.
Kirk Cameron had been my crush for a long time and I decided it was time to graduate to another. Sorry Kirk, but when I finally had the chance to meet you over 20 years later and brought my Dynamite magazine for you to sign, you declined all autographs. Show me that smile again Kirk and we can talk...
I've always been a Donnie fan. Never did I even look at the others (well, maybe because I wasn't into high-pitched vocals, curly hair or monkies). Luckily none of my friends were into him because that meant I had him all to myself. What would he would do with a 6th grader? He would take her on tour with him and marry her because he would be that into me! I mean, I was a cheerleader.
In 7th grade, my first concert was NKOTB here in Huntsville, Alabama. I swore he saw me. I'm pretty sure he couldn't find me after the concert though because I was busy trying to get backstage with my fake passes I bought at Claire's. I tried to come see you Donnie, but those guys knew their stuff.
Over the years Donnie became more outspoken, more political. I enjoyed his nose ring and bandannas. I, too, wore my peace sign to show I was in the club. I had the 1991 concert where Donnie kissed a fan who threw a jacket on stage during a live concert. Sure I was jealous, but could you blame her?
After 1995 when they broke up, I continued my crush with Mr. Wahlberg. I mean, this man was going to be in my future somehow, right?! Little did I know how much he would be with me...
Fast forward to 2008. I learned of a reunion and this happened. Yes, I had Meet and Greet passes. Yes I had 8th row seats. I met the short man of my dreams..all for two minutes. We exchanged a couple of words, got a hug, and took a picture (I'm in the green).
Fast forward to March 16, 2009. Nashville. Again, we had Meet and Greet tickets (because that's how I roll). With Meet and Greet tickets, you are guaranteed tickets within the first 10 rows. You don't know where you'll be sitting until the day of the show. During the Meet and Greet, we were given, Row 2 tickets. Holy crapolah! They looked to be end seats but still...second row!!!
Finally we had our chance with the guys again. This time I made a beeline to my one and only short man. He claimed to have remembered me (from 1991?!? Upper deck?!? Huntsville?!) from Atlanta because my shirt lit up to music. I asked if used his electronic drumkit t-shirt I gave him in Atlanta. Of course he did! I wouldn't be suprised if a new album came out early due to this! Ok, not really, but at least he made me think I was memorable.
Here I am, next to Danny (not my first choice but I'll take it).
We enter the arena to be escorted to our seats. Some how, some way, we ended up FRONT FREAKIN' ROW FREAKIN' CENTER. Evidently, the stage came out an extra row..our "end seats" were actually the end of one section and the beginning of another section. We jumped up and down with the thoughts of what an amazing concert this would be. Yes, I was a 30 year old taken back to 1991...back when my hair was a little poofy (top left corner)
They enter, there are screams...it's ridiculous.
Oh Donnie...here you are...here I am...let's make it happen.
And it did.
During the show, Donnie was playing with the crowd and said the screams made him tingle. Sure enough, I yelled "I could make you tingle." He must have heard me because he came back, stuck the microphone in my face and asked me what I just said. I'm not shy by any means and we already had our relationship established in 1991 so I wasn't scared of this man. Here's our conversation.
Donnie: What did you say?
Jamie: I can make you tingle.
Donnie: You can make me tingle?
Jamie: Oh yeah!
He steps back, laughs, and decides he wants me to make him tingle. So the man jumps off stage, leans over and manhandles me. He lays one right on my mouth for a good 5 seconds. Oh, did you want a picture?
Kudos to my co-workers wife Hillary at The Other Mama who wanted to do a blog carnival! This is my first one!
(You like long blogs, right?)
I enjoy a good roadie every once in a while. I’ve been fortunate to live close enough to some excellent travelling spots in the South. Memphis has always held an interesting place in my heart. When I was younger, my family packed up and visited Elvis’ home as well as the Memphis Zoo. I have no recollection of this trip but after seeing the photos from it, I know that it in fact did happen. I was probably 5 or 6. Where did these memories go and why can’t I remember? It must be all of the Diet Sprite mom fed us over the summer. Ugh….
This past weekend, my buddy Sara and I revisited the home, not the birthplace of Elvis….Elvis Presley (TCB Baby). I have recently discovered Randy Houser, a country music singer that wails as well as yells. He was playing at Minglewood Hall in Memphis and I fancied to see him howl. Now granted, I may not be your typical country music fan, and I may have just discovered him last month, but I am a dedicated “fan” once I’m on the wagon. I knew Sara would be down for this concert at a “Roadhouse” establishment. Sara has never been to Memphis nor did she know who Randy Houser was, so kudos to her for sticking it out. She and I enjoy people watchin’…and watched we did! Since this was her first visit, she brought her buddy Gnomey, the St. Louis Cardinals garden gnome, to share in the adventure.
Memphis is roughly 3.5 hours away (this is how we measure distances in the South…not in miles), making your way through Mississippi. Of note was our pit-stop in a small town called Slayden where the gas station didn’t seem “Boon Hickey” per Sara. The smell of waffle cones mixed with that of Chester’s Dark Meat Chicken was…how you say…interesting.
After a couple of hours Memphis was finally ours. After dropping off our bags, Gnomey, Sara, and I went to Beale Street. Sunday afternoons (chilly ones at that) leave Beale Street a little bare. We found some great Elvis items and posed accordingly
then ate at Dyer’s
who have been featured on the Travel Channel. No, we didn’t eat BBQ…sorry! The ducks at the Peabody Hotel got a visit from our trio as well as some photo opportunities.
I think the best part of our Beale Street experience was the blues players who kept yelling “YEAH” as if Lil’ John had taken over.
The concert was fast approaching. We had meet and greet tickets with Randy (we know how to handle this). The venue was very small and nice but needed some organization. Our MNG was to begin at 6 with the show starting at 9. As we approached the area for the MNG, we found two very anxious-to-make-new-friends folks. Were they brother and sister or boyfriend and girlfriend? Being from TN, I know they are one in the same. The guy was doing some con-ops on Sara, scoping her out and finding out some info. His best pickup line was “I know you are from the deep South with that accent.” Sara is from St. Louis and her accent is far from Southern. Just get her to say “box”. While she was getting courted by Casanova, the young lady was telling me many odds and ends about her day as well as showing me her signs she made for the show. I love me a super fan, how can you not?
As the MNG folks lined up to ready themselves for Mr. Houser, we were told it wouldn’t happen until 8. For 2 incredible hours, we watched folks mosey in and out of the establishment. This was an all ages show, so seeing little cowboys and families was fun. Finally, as 8 approached, we got in line with others who had been taking in some barley and/or yeast water. This is what you have been waiting for…I like a long buildup…
Mr. Houser finally comes out to mingle with his guests as well as take pictures and sign autographs. In the background, I notice a young blonde with a very low top who happens to have a signature on her upper *um* body as well as a tattoo on the other half of her upper body. For some reason, her hands are underneath these *um* upper bodies as if she is peacocking or flaunting what the Lord did NOT give her (bless her heart). More on her later.
I finally get my hand shook and a few words in as well as a picture taken with Mr. Houser. Sara did well with the camera under all of this pressure. We stayed around for a few minutes to hopefully get a few more words.
ENTER THE DRAGON. Let’s say you are wearing a turtle neck (I don’t know what you all wear so bear with me). Let’s also say you are female and want to get an autograph on your person. Where and how would you get this? One way is to lift up the shirt from the bottom, exposing your Victoria’s Secret (and horrible belly button tattoos) while yelling “Sign here!!!” Did I mention this was an all ages show? Oh yeah I did. The 9 year old boy standing next to me with his parents really got his money’s worth from the MNG. After an autograph was placed, she went away for a moment, probably to take a sip of whatever was running its course. Minutes later, up the shirt comes again and now she wants a picture taken showing proof that he in fact signed her person(s) all while exclaiming “Don’t worry, this won’t go on your Facebook Randy!” The 9 year old boy is still there, waiting on his “thumbs up” photo with the singer…again, witnessing THE DRAGON. The manager steps in and waters are calmed...for now...but THE DRAGON lurks…
The show has already begun and Sara and I take our places near the front of the stage. The opening bands, the Dirt Brothers and the Dirt Drifters (no relation) tear up some original country songs as well as a little Merle and Bruce Springsteen. At intermission, we see the young blonde at the corner of our eyes, still with her hands on her “upper bodies” yelling that it is her birthday. She’s seen fistpumping to the random country songs that are played in between acts. (I just added the word “fistpumping” to my MS Word dictionary.) Other Jersey Shore dance moves came out and good times a’watchin’ were had.
Let me not forget the girls in the very front of the stage that were walking around as if they were newborn colts trying to get their footing. At one point, one put the other on her shoulders and jumped around. This looked very uncomfortable and it did not bode well for the beers in their hands.
The main act is finally hitting the stage. Who introduces them but Jerry “The King” Lawler, the wrestling legend of Memphis.
The entire band donnes Lucha Libra wrestling masks and begins their set.
Some songs of note were “Midnight Rider” and “Momma’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys”. Great set and a lot of sweat was put into that show.
On the way home from Memphis, Sara took a gander at my CDs as we decided to take it back…all the way to Now That’s What I Call Music 3 and 8. Yes…3 and 8. We are talking Backstreet Boys, Britney Spears, Destiny’s Child, KC and JoJo and maybe some vintage dance moves from 1998 and 2001. Music…makes the people…come together…
