Axl Rose vs Myles Kennedy

Last weekend there was a little hoedown shindig at the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame.

Guns N Roses, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Beastie Boys were added to the list of music legends.  You know, I have to say, this is proof that I am old now.  These people made the music I was rocking out with when I was a teenager.  That was TWENTY FIVE YEARS AGO.   We don't rock like we used to.

WE ROCK BETTER. 

As proof that the snarly rock and roll attitude does not dull with age, I present to you, in all his glory, AXL ROSE.

(Dude, thank you for losing the cornrows.  I'm glad they are now hiding out with Kroeger's Nickelbob.)

I have no idea what Axl's been up to these days.  Doing stuff.  Touring.  Being crabby.  You know.  The usual.  And yes, I do own a copy of Chinese Democracy, so there's an indication of the loyalty I have to this difficult ornery rock star.  (I know, I know, it's a flaw of mine.)

Most importantly, Axl refused to show up for the Hall of Fame party.  He had to refuse, really.  I mean, on what planet does W AXL  ROSE stand there nodding and smiling while all the sycophants load on the fawning praises?  Not in this universe. That's just way too nice.  Axl is not nice.  (Having said that, his official letter of refusal was not near as nasty as you'd expect.)  

I am so conflicted... part of me says he should have been there, however, if he was there everybody would be whispering reunion!  and that ain't gonna happen. So he ends up looking like both the rebel, too cool to bother with that crap, as well as the giant spoilsport.  

But here's the thing....  

Somebody else was willing to get the job done.  Myles Kennedy, who is one wailing monster of a singer, joined the band onstage to play a few of those giant hits that everybody wanted to hear.  

And from what I've heard, he was... awesome.

I mean, somebody hadda do it, right?  Why not bring in a guy who's gonna stick a fork in the whole thing cuz it is DONE!

Oh, this is slightly awkward....

Here's Myles standing right under Axl's right eye.  

I thought Axl was hot back then.  I really did.

Rock Stars are a fascinating species, aren't they?  Imagine all the elements that need to converge in order to create one of these creatures: attitude, talent, skill, work ethic (often while appearing to not give a crap) and the willingness to hear one's own voice, or instrument, coming back through the speakers.  Oh, also, a comfort level with being photographed.  

Which is why there are certain Rock Star Poses which are obligatory. 

It's all there.  

I think I had that same T shirt in 1987.

Really I thought he was sumthin' and now I look at the early days when he was skinny and malnourished and ewwwww what the heck I was thinking.  

Oh I know what I was thinking: what pretty red hair and he doesn't look like any of the boys I go to church with! How strange and interesting!

Of course there was the Buff Axl phase but I still can hardly deal with the tight shorts & armadillo combo.  I can't look.  Then I do.  And then I can't.  

More necessary Rock Star Action Moves:

Here, Myles demonstrates the Brooding Dangerous Album Art look.

He could slay you with his voice.

The Live On Stage Lean-Back

(See "Plant, Robert.")

And the rarely-captured "I love my job" look.

Of course he's pretty much nailed the long hair/ whiskers Euro-Jesus thing.  That always helps.  

So, Axl Rose vs Myles Kennedy.  

Myles showed up.  One point.

Axl refused to show up.  

....one point.

Myles gets several points for being in two bands simultaneously.

He has to get a point for his tiny but pivotal role in that so-bad-it's-awesome movie, ROCK STAR, featuring Mark Wahlberg and his abs.

Oh wait, here's something!

He's also a monster of a guitar player.

But Axl is.... Axl ....

I GIVE UP.  

HERE'S JOHNNY.

Hmmm... Interesting....

My blog buddy, Heidi Willis, asked me to do this, and I'll do it for her because she is one of my favourite people I've never met.  We're part of an online writing group, in which we plan lovely getaways to Heidi's Maine beach house, where we'll read in our jammies all weekend (in pretend world).  I didn't think I had anything interesting left of me -- I spill a lot on this blog.  I might repeat myself, so consider pretending you don't know anything about me first.


1)  I have a crooked spine.  I've come to terms with it. Symmetry is over-rated.  Imperfection is interesting.

2) I was at a bush party in 1987 with my boyfriend.  I watched him take a drunken beating from a particularly tough dude, while standing beside my ex-boyfriend.  Also in attendance that night, although I didn't know it yet?  My next boyfriend.  I ended marrying him and we don't do bush parties anymore.  Good times.

3) I have written 5 novels.  One of them is pretty good.  One of them is really good and getting better, but I'm aiming for excellent.  None of them are actual real books.  However, I can call myself A Writer because I have been rejected by some of the best literary agents in North America, darn it!

4) I got a pony for my 7th birthday.  I named her Chocolate.  Because she was dark brown.   I was seven; clever literary reference names weren't in my repertoire yet.  Besides, "Hemingway" is a ridiculous name for a small filly.

5) I don't care or mind if you resent me for #4.  Hey man, I didn't have much of anything else, but I had ponies and that was more important than anything else.  Even Barbies.

6) I am a bit of a tomboy but I loved my Barbies.  (Both of them.)

7) I had a huge crush on Shaun Cassidy when I was eight.  I had the T shirt.  I had the pin-ups on the wall.  Until John Stamos came along a few years later, Shaun was the sun in my sky. What can I say, I fall hard and I fall easily.

8) I had a Donny Osmond doll too.  He had purple socks!!!!!

9) Sometimes I really lay it on thick with the red carpet stuff.  Like, "Well when I was on the red carpet the first time..." and "We walked right past (insert Famous and /or Well Known Canadian Artist) and he/she is actually very short..."  and also "....about four feet away from Shania Twain..." and I am just a tiny bit ashamed that I throw it around like that.

But come on!  I grew up on a pig farm!  My husband grew up behind the feed mill!  RED FRIGGEN CARPET?  You are damn right I'm gonna brag that up.

10)  If I had money to burn I'd start up a Useless Critter Farm.  I'd have a llama and a few miniature horses, heck, I'd have the three horses I have now.  A large collection of donkeys.  A sheep.  About 50 goats, because they rock!  Numerous cats.  Peacocks.  Heck if I could I'd have an elephant.

hahaha, I just changed four of those because I thought of something more interesting than what I first wrote.

WHAT?! 2012? Now I gotta make new file folders. Pfft.

Happy New Year!

Yesterday I went to file a chunk of receipts I dug out of Jethro's wallet and realized that it's not December anymore.  It's not 2011 anymore.  Darnit, I just stopped writing 2010 about six months ago.  Grumble grumble paperwork year end grumble mumble.  Geez when did I become a curmudgeon????

Oh, I know.  About a week ago, when I turned forty-ONE.

So I'll be over here in the corner, stacking paper, shredding stuff from the seven-years-ago folders, rearranging the filing cabinet.  Well, cabinets.  There are two.  Why, why, why, did we decide both of us need to be self employed?

Oh, I know.  Because we are both almost incapable of following orders from other people and therefore poor candidates for traditional employment.

Wow, I just answered two of my own questions in a row.  Hey, maybe I'll start getting smart this year!  Yay!

Coming up: The Hick Chic Best and Worst of 2011.  Also known as the Annual Hick Chic Awards.

Worth waiting for.

(Where's my friggen letter opener?)

"You hide your talents well."

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN????

I'm pretty sure it's a golden example of a Backhanded Compliment.  Y'know, thinly disguising an insult with sneering flattery. But is it?  Did I take it the wrong way???

Jethro and I recently attended a Christmas party including a musical performance by a singer he'd worked with.  She's fantastic; her album of Christmas music is one that even I, the Grinch, can appreciate.  I actually really enjoy her record. It's sincere.  She's a great singer.  And the record sounds awesome.  Of course.

Well, the event was held at this swanky establishment in the big city.  I'm not even sure "swanky" is the right word for it.  Come to think of it I'm not sure what "swanky" means and by now the word has started to sound really funny. The room has wood panelling and stained glass and really fancy light fixtures.  Beautiful.  Elegant.  Classy.

TOTALLY INTIMIDATING.

Clearly, Jethro and I weren't in our natural habitat.

But it was nice. The shortbread cookies were very tasty. Everybody was perfectly nice.  Really quite lovely.  Of course it just wouldn't be a proper party unless I knocked something over on the table after about ten sips of wine, which I did, so everything was fine. I think.  Maybe.

I never know if I'm behaving appropriately at such an occasion. Truthfully, I never know how to behave... well, ever, I guess.  I sort of go through life vaguely aware that I might be making an ass of myself yet not caring enough to put in the sort of epic effort required to first know how to behave and then to actually act accordingly.

I didn't even know what the heck to wear.  I don't have much in between the jeans, T shirts, sweatshirts, yoga pants collection (in which everything is or can be barn clothes) and the super fancy once a year dress.  My shoes are ridiculously extreme.  It's like this: sneakers or flip flops.  Flat.  Then, riding boots.  Small heel.  The rest... towering high heels.  If I'm going to dress up for a special occasion, I'm going to be wearing heels.  Go big or stay home.

I ended up pretty wrong-looking.  Other women were dressed for a Christmas party, wearing sparkly things that looked like they were bought in a store rather than dug out of a box in the sewing room.  I wore a long brown skirt that I'm so sick of it's going in the thrift store bag, and my fitted striped sweater which is nice but not really fancy enough for that day.  And my black leather knee high platform boots with the big chunky 4 inch heel.  Because I stand by my declaration that they go with everything.

At least I know I can't go too far wrong if I have nice boots.

Now Jethro totally solved the dressing up thing.  He just wore his regular plaid shirt and jeans combo but with a black suit jacket and black shoes.  Ridiculous.  He throws on a suit jacket and he's instantly dressed up.  The suit jacket, it really ties a look together.  Much like a nice rug really pulls the room together.  Anyways I thought he looked very handsome, with his long dark hair with the strands of silver, and specks of grey in his beard.  I'm biased though.  I think he's gorgeous.  Man, when he was a teenager he was so pretty.  He was a big dude though, so the prettiness balanced out nicely.  Now he's growing into this sort of biker-chic look.

But like I said, I just like the looks of the guy.

The singer took the time to introduce those who worked on the album.  She had my man stand up and take a little bow and all.  It was cute.  After 20 years of happy musicians thanking him publicly for making them sound so good, he doesn't even blush anymore.  Much.

It was dark by the time we left.  The two of us scooted back to our car through the rain.  We had a couple hours to get out of the city and back to the ol' Homestead.  In the course of recapping the afternoon, he mentioned that an older lady ventured up to him for a little chit chat.  I figured out which lady he was talking about; I'd noticed the very elegant small woman with the tailored suit-dress and actual jewellery as opposed to the stuff you buy at Zellers.  Hair carefully dyed to cover the grey, but not too dark, as black hair on a lady in her 80s is just vulgar, or gauche, or whatever.

"So you're the man behind this album," she stated, that kind of thing.

"Yep that's me, I'm the recording engineer."

And then, "You hide your talents well."

Jethro replied the only way he could.

 "...thanks...?"

He figures she had him pegged at first for some embarrassing relative or a party crasher.  My gosh, who could have known that this big long-haired man is actually a man of accomplishment and skill - and not even in something criminal! He could present himself as a career man with an appearance worthy of all the awards and gushing thanks, but instead he's craftily disguised himself so as to look like some hoodlum and therefore his accolades are a pleasant surprise.  Or something.

Or maybe she just meant he seems to be humble and decent.

I don't know... classy people bewilder me...

Never thought I'd be the person whose life goes totally sideways without my cellphone....

...but holy heck I just had a tricky couple of weeks here.

Long story short, we are now a FOUR iGADGET FAMILY and I have a brand spankin' new, not hand-me-down, all mine iGadget.

Long story long, I am officially one of those people: useless without my damn phone.

I held off on having one until two years ago, when I no longer had a land line.  It's taken me this long to really get the hang of it.  I have finally figured out how the "contact" section works and how to copy things in email and how not to text a message meant for the husband to the farrier instead.  (Good thing it was just boring stuff like what came in the mail today...)

As of two weeks ago, the family situation was like this:

Jethro - newish iPhone 4 with a sticky home button that sometimes worked right.

Me - his previous iPhone 3GS (whatever the heck that stands for) which I really liked even though there was a little dark spot in all the pictures it took.

Bucky & Annyong - his first iPhone, 3G I believe, which I thought was totally adequate in the first place but apparently not bell- and-whistly enough.

He'd given Bucky the old Gadget to use as an iPod, since Annyong already had a nice iPod.

Then the two teenagers landed a babysitting gig which they traded days... and the family has no land line.  I had awful thoughts about a kid breaking an arm or something and one of my kids out there beside a corn field needing to cross a busy highway to use a neighbour's phone to call for help.  So after a long discussion about responsibility usage and blah blah blah we activated the old Gadget.  No data, no email, just text messaging and calls on weekends and after 9pm.  Bucky gives the Gadget to Annyong when she goes to work.  And they'd have to each come up with some cash for the phone bill, what with them being employed and all.

It was working halfway decently, this system.

About two weeks ago this thing started.  My phone didn't work.  I missed a call from a student and wasn't here when she showed up for a lesson.  OOPS.  She was cool about it but I was getting worried. I wasn't getting calls, I wasn't getting messages, I was afraid I'd lose all three of my riding students!!!

Turns out it had to do with Jethro getting really sick of that wonky home button.  So he went out and got a new iPhone 4GS SS R/T whatever the heck acronym that phone's hauling around.

Everybody moved down a phone.

He spent a whole afternoon talking to the phone company to get us all four set up, get a number for each kid's phone, set up the data plan, bitch about the astronomical amount they're charging us and getting a better plan and oh man it was hardcore boring.

I walked away from that with two teenagers packing cellphones, something I'd vowed wouldn't darn well happen for a long time yet, and a newish iPhone 4 with a wonky home button.  I spent a couple hours setting up all the apps - which I find amusing because in my world the Apps are out in the field grazing and swishing their tails over their spotted rumps - making sure everything had moved over to the newish phone and recording a new voicemail greeting.

I also had to do some damage control with my students.

At least I had some peace of mind knowing that if one of the kids missed the bus or something, I wouldn't be driving all over the county and the town looking for a lost teenager.

Well one night Bucky decided to upgrade my iGadget to OS 10 or 10.5 or man I am not good with numbers.

THINGS LOOKED DIFFERENT.  AGAIN.

Like, I'm easily confused.  If it looks different it's like I've never seen the damn thing before.  Every time Google changes the email page I almost cry.  I'm lost.

I'm like a horse who walks into the barn one day and there's a DIFFERENT COLOUR BUCKET IN THE STALL and I cannot go in there because clearly, that is not my stall.

But Bucky 'splained it all and I was getting hip to the whole thing.


About a week into my new relationship with Newish iGadget, that sticky wonky home button just gave up.  I was on email and I had to turn the damn thing off and turn it back on again to use the phone.

Know what I hate more than trying to figure out something new?  I hate when things don't work.  I just want things to work, dammit.

I found myself at the Apple store 40 minutes away from home, relieved that it wasn't further away than that, with a young fella in a blue T shirt telling me I'd be getting a new phone.

Which resulted in a frenzied discussion with the teenagers about whether or not Daddy backed up all the crap on my gadget with the computer.

A couple hours later, I was in my bed, calling Bucky over to my room because... EVERYTHING WAS BACK TO MY OLD KIND OF DIFFERENT AGAIN AND ALL THAT STUFF I PUT ON THE DEFECTIVE PHONE WAS GONE OR SOMETHING.

I don't remember what happened next.  I think it involved recording a new voicemail greeting that might end with me giggling because Bucky tickled my foot on his way out of my room.

I'm liking my new gadget, I must say.  It's NEW new.  I got a bright pink bumper to put on it.  The screen is perfectly clear, even to my 40 year old eyeballs.  It doesn't dim enough for those eyeballs but I just look at it sideways and it's ok.  I've got all my favourite head banging tunes on it.  At some point I will again organize the pictures into albums like I did on one of the other iterations of this thing.

All's well, right?  We can put the techno-drama to rest for a time now?

Nope.

Last night the computer got upgraded from Liger to Lion.

LOOKS DIFFERENT DIOFWEHFSOIDJ.  Really slick and awesome, but different.  And of course in the morning my gadget and computer are all like, "Dude, who?  Man I don't even know you."

I try to scroll down the computer screen and it doesn't move.  Ohhhhh.... turns out it scrolls the same way the gadget does.  Backwards.  Ok.  Sigh.  I'll get used to it.

I've got all my little pictures (icons?) on the iGadget screen in the right order again.  Some time I'll reorganize the photo albums for the third time.  And delete duplicate contacts out of the phone list again.

I am pretty sure all my students can reach me if they need to.  But then, how would I know if they couldn't????????


When I go out to the pasture to visit Phoenix 1.0 and Oakie 1.0 and Copper 1.0  I'll be quietly pleased that all I need to do to upgrade them is go at them with a brush and a bottle of ShowSheen.

Hand me a friggen paint brush and STAND THE HECK BACK.

It's like this:  things to pay for.

I'm starting my second painting job of the last two weeks.  This one is cool because I'm being given a lot more control of the project.  I get to have canvas drop sheets instead of plastic!  Plastic is slippery and therefore not good.  Unfortunately I also have to do all the prep work.  I hate prep.  Gahhhhh.  I hate sanding.  It's messy and bad for my wrists.  But it's so worth it.  Putting a paint job on a crappy wall sucks.

Also I have to scrape a layer of filth off the whole place.  Did the guy clean at all, even once, in the four years he lived in that apartment????  (shudder)  I can hardly even talk about it.

I fork up about a hundred pounds of horse manure every day and I'm cool with it but I'm horrified by the bathroom in the apartment I'm painting.  Makes sense.



OH AND ALSO I've got this new writing project, which I am totally AMPED about!  I have to squeeze in time to write!  Looks like somebody else is going to be sweeping the floors and vacuuming around here too.  Of course, this fantastic writing project is not paying very well.  At this time.

I can hardly talk about it.

In other news:  all three of my horses have physical issues of some kind, but it's all being taken care of.  Copper is putting weight on That Leg, and although she's really short-strided on that side, she doesn't appear to be bothered by it.  Oakie needs some exercise.  And Phoenix is too fat.  Ha!

Alright.  That was your news report.  I'm not really sure why I felt compelled to share all that.  Oh - I know- because when I blog again and can't put a sentence together and read much write spell tired good babble droop, then you'll know why.

A quick piece of movie star weirdness...

I saw this picture on Go Fug Yourself and had to steal it share it!

Look closely.  It appears that Nicole Kidman is...

...resting her hand on Oscar's right cheek.  

I would totally do that if I were standing beside a larger-than-life Oscar.

You would too.  Admit it!

Golden Globe and Blue Monday

 Yep, I pigged out on awards last night.  Tomorrow I will recap it for you, as only I do.

Today, I'll be at "work" with Jethro, tidying up the studio and, well, his desk.  Wish me luck.

Apparently today is...(dramatic pause)...Blue Monday.  Wasn't that a song by some new wave band in the 80s?  Help me out here?

Somebody determined that today, January 17, is The Most Depressing Day Of They Year.

This kind of bums me out.  Haha.  See what I did there?  Bummed out about a depressing day?  I don't know about this.  I might have to call BS on it.  It's just a day.  If you're going to be depressed, you're not going to pick a day.  I can tell you one thing: right about now I'm totally over Christmas like it never happened, and I've got two more months of winter, then I've got April, which for some reason has been my worst month for the last few years.  I've got snow and cold followed by mud and misery.  So today?  Pffft.  Whatevs man.

If January 17 makes you want to hang around in your room and cry, remember this: today can't last forever.

Besides if you really want something to get all bent over...

NOBODY WORE A SPARKLY GOLD DRESS WITH STOOPID CLEAVAGE LAST NIGHT.

No immature "golden globes" jokes! Darnit.

Instead, just Ricky Gervais making a lot of people uncomfortable and Johnny looking fidgety (but gorgeous) and Angelina looking distracted.  Me, on the couch, taking notes.  I wish I was kidding.

fidget squirm adjust squirm fidget.  Like a kid in Gade 4 watching the clock and waiting for the bell to ring.  Poor guy.

I turn 40 in five days! WE PARTY NOW!!!!

Yep, I am about to hit the big 4-0

It matters not how I feel about this milestone... 

...I'm turning 40!  

And I'm throwing a big imaginary birthday party for meeeeeee!

So git in here!  I painted my front door bright blue and hung up a nice festive wreath what with my birthday coinciding with Christmas and all!

Oh yeah, I did some intense decorating.  I even got rid of all the cobwebs in the ceiling corners.  

Now that you're in the door, let me put a glass of Blog Nog in your hand!

I've got Regular and Extra!

Even those who don't like egg nog in real life are crazy about my Blog Nog.  It has no calories!  It has no nothing, just fun!

Just in case you're fake-hungry, I am prepared.

Little chippy dippy things... yeah I don't know what they are.  We'll just pretend they're tasty.

We've got twisty bread kind of things.

Some kind of cheese thing.  

I've always busted out the Tiny Cheeseburgers, and while I still believe they are very cute and likely tasty as well, it has come to my attention that they are now being called "Sliders."  I find this very unappetizing.  It makes me think of gulping them down whole.  What are we, pugs?  (And wasn't there a TV show from the past starring Jerry McConnell called Sliders?  Help me out here.  Biddie?  Anybody? Discuss!)

So none of those. Instead, Tiny Sammiches!

Tell me if they're good, okay?  

And also, because even in Blog World I like to be healthy, some veggies and dip!

What?  You don't like veggies?

Oh come on!  Work with me here.  (We're imagining, geddit?)

Okay, fine, have some pigs-in-a-blanket.

Wash it down with this!

Or this, if you insist on being all phosisticated.

Or the other kind.

Some people just can't go along cheerfully?

No problem.  I got the good stuff too!

Best of all, being purtend, everybody can make it home safely!

HEY HANG ON, WHOA THERE.

I'M TURNING 40?

40?

SERIOUSLY?  

DOES THIS MEAN I HAVE TO BE A GROWN UP NOW?

I think I sorted this out at 30, actually.  

I'm okay.  

(I cheated anyways... that picture above was taken when I was 37ish.)

I feel more like this now.

hahaha!

Question - does life really begin at 40?  Discuss.

 LIGHT ME UP THOSE CANDLES!

Somebody here must know how to play piano, am I right?  Bust out some songs, people.  

Yeah, now we're talkin'!  Boom box baby!  

Of course, the party always ends up in the kitchen.

You might find me in my new attic library though.  

Maybe later we can go play in the snow!

I asked for a pygmy goat for my birthday last year.  One of Jethro's clients thought that was the craziest thing he'd ever heard.  But why wouldn't I want a little goat?  

Look how cute she is!!!

She can't sleep on my bed though.  The Pug and the cat are already there, and Jethro takes up a bit of room too.  sigh.  I guess I can ask for a cute little goat for my 41st birthday, right?

Hey.  Check it out.  I made it to 40.  

Any more Christmas babies out there?

How about The Gorgeous And Talented Amazing Annie Lennox?

And of course, even though he probably wasn't born on Christmas day at all... and most likely did not look European and saintly...

I just like him so I'll include him.

Name some more?  

Pretend to eat drink and be merry?  Sing me happy birthday?  Give me an imaginary critter to add to my collection?  Party like a rock star?

Meet in the comments section!