If Ignorance is Bliss ...

...then the "In Your Dreams" award of the week goes to Paris Hilton for making
the following absurd statement:

"There's nobody in the world like me. I think every decade has
an iconic blonde like Marilyn Monroe or Princess Diana and right now, I'm that icon."
Little-Miss-CAN-Be-Wrong told the Times of London.

Look honey, you may be thin, rich, and by some people's standards, beautiful, but here's
what separates the blondes from the iconic blondes:
A) Talent. Marilyn Monroe actually could act. Goodness knows, she would never
have stooped to staging a "reality" show where a lack of tact, good manners
and common sense would be so glaringly in evidence. The same principles
would almost certainly have applied to any propositions she received to
record a sex video. Do I need to go on?
B) Grace and Compassion. Princess Di crusaded for worthy causes, globe-trotting from
hospital to hospital, not only visiting sick children or land mine victims, but embracing them
 ... and I don't mean in the figurative sense alone. (And by the way, "figurative" doesn't
have anything to do with the female form, Paris.) And heavens knows, it takes a massive
measure of  grace to live inside a royal cocoon, mother two boys also constrained inside it,
and figure out how to navigate life when your every word and deed is microscopically examined,
then re-broadcast to the world. (Especially, when that macro-publication is not your choice.) 
C) Intelligence. Dear me, where do I start on this one? You know what, never mind. [Sigh.]

Blonde, you most definitely are Paris. I'll give ya that one. But iconic??! 
Oy vey. Not in the way you're thinkin', honey.

All Stood Up, But Still Smilin'

They say all's well that ends well, and Friday's Johnny Mathis's concert at the Shell ended VERY well. I must say I most enjoyed the Brazilian-themed numbers he performed near the end of his show. His guitarist did an exceptional job on "99 Miles from L.A." and "Twelfth of Never," too and spare instrumentation never sounded so rich.

But yes, (or should that be, no?) Johnny did not take me (us) up on the offer of an outing while he was in town. (Sigh). Once I got to the Shell and saw the size of the orchestra performing (and therefore traveling) with him, I understood why. There were approximately 30 other people on stage with him, to say nothing of the touring and technical staff I'm sure was somewhere in the wings. And gracious and genteel though he was in his interview with me, I noticed he does not do a lot of "sharing" from the stage, and actually speaks very little between numbers. Some of those numbers were medleys of his standards, and by combining them, he effectively shortened his musical sets (in what I'm assuming also conserves his energy at that age) yet still delighted the crowd by covering a good portion of his this-is-what-I'm-known-for songbook. He looked downright comfy on the stage, sporting a neon orange and green "fun" tie with his tan suit and golf-style loafers in the first act, and a white-on-white suit with what I believe were K-Swiss sneakers in the second act.

On pure pitch, tone, and vocal control alone, I daresay it was evident the man is still taking music lessons at the age of almost-70 -- and good for him! (Yes, he mentioned that in the interview.) He hit a couple of high notes head on, though they may have been a bit less intense than in his younger years. But if the biggest revelation from the stage was how "mad" he is about golf, (it was just so charming the way he said it!) then clearly, this is a man very careful to define, delineate and and put distance between what's professional and what's personal.
Or, he was really busy. But I think it was the former.

Sure, a little part of me was sort of hoping for the tinsiest mention of his unique invitation from the stage, but given his reserved presence, I figured out pretty quickly that wasn't going to happen either. In any case, he sang beautifully, and it sure was fun listening after having had the chance to interview him ahead of time. Naturally, I was probably one of the youngest in attendance, but so what? It was a nice throwback to the ole WISH-95 days (anybody remember that radio station?)

Oh well, if I couldn't have a date, at least I'll always have his voicemail message. ;)

So far, ... solo

Ack! It's coming up on three days until Johnny Mathis comes to town and I still haven't heard back from either the man himself or any of his managers whether he's going to take me (us) up on the offer of an outing.

As of right now, the only thing I do know is that I haven't won tickets to MPN's illustrious box seating for his concert Friday. (The company has been holding near-daily raffles for seats to each of the shows down at the Shell this season.) I must say, if it comes down to the date vs. the concert, I'd rather the date ... 'cause any ole soul can snap up a seat at a concert. Seriously, wouldn't "once dated a celebrity (wink, wink)" make for a fun ice-breaker introduction at just about any public function? :)

Anyhow, the fine folks at Shark's Custard and Candy are prepped, as are the Wine Center crew, so it's just a game of wait and see. Though I could do with a bit less waiting and a bit more seeing.

"I shall be telling this with a sigh,
Somewhere, ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I --
I took the one less traveled by ..." - Robert Frost
(Question is, will this "road" be the one that made all the difference?)

Worried whether my Chances Are ...

I've done the unthinkable. Well, more like the unthinkable for me.

I broke one of my cardinal rules and asked a guy out on a date.

Now, granted, I knew it was a long shot, but this man is dashing, debonair, and frankly, delightful to talk to. Plus, he can sing. And I mean, like, really sing. (Sigh.)

I was on pins and needles waiting for him to call. And then, when he called before I expected and left a message apologizing that he'd missed me, I had to forward the voicemail to several friends for analysis. (You know how that goes.)

When we finally did connect live and in person, there were so many other things to talk about, legitimate reasons for the call, you know, that it was hard to get to the point.
I've gotta say, after this, I have a newfound respect for men. It's really hard to slip a personal invitation into casual conversation without appearing desparate or possibly mental, on top of which, once you do manage to stammer it out, it's hard to convince the person on the end of the line you're actually serious.

Especially when that person is a celebrity the likes of Johnny Mathis.

Yes, that Johnny Mathis. Mr. "Chances Are ... your chances are awfully good" or, as it appears in my case, Mr. "Chances Are ... your chances remain to be seen."
See, Johnny Mathis is going to be singing at the Shell next Friday as part of his 50th Anniversary Tour. And the task of reporting on that appearance fell to me. As you might guess, odds of landing an interview with a well-known musical artist are pretty long to begin with, but somehow I beat those odds. And while most of what you have and/or will read in this posting will seem to completely contradict the last comment I made about the Shell's lineup this year, I reserve the right to make an exception to my own initial rule(s) of thought. (I'm a female; I'm allowed.) Besides, I've liked his music ever since my late paternal grandfather passed down his vinyl LP of Johnny's "Merry Christmas" album back in the day. (The Dewey family Christmas would not have been the same without that record.)

Anyway, in the process of preparation for the interview, I and a few other Messenger staffers observed Johnny Mathis used to have quite a tradition of sightseeing at whatever area he visited to get a bit of a flavor of the community there. So another co-worker virtually dared me to ask him if he'd like to come get ice cream (at Shark's Custard and Candy, naturally) when he's in town. Given that I generally respond promptly to similar dares --"Hey Rachel, will you go ask [our executive editor] if he'll spring for pizza?" -- it should come as no surprise I took her up on it. I mean, what the heck? It's not like this chance was coming around again, plus I am proud of my little tradition of showing Shark's off to visiting friends.

For a musical celebrity however, you've gotta have a Plan B for a date, which in this case is the new Wine and Culinary Center in town. (Personally, I think chances are a little better for that option, given Mr. Mathis enjoys gourmet cooking in his spare time.) Frankly, when asking a celebrity out, you've also gotta have a Plan B for the invitiation itself (Remember that whole "convince them you're serious without appearing mental" struggle?). In this case, that means my fax detailing the "taste-seeing" invitation is now sitting somewhere in a stack of communiques Mr. Mathis is scheduled to review. Right now, I'm just happy it's gotten through in one piece (or so one of his assistant/managers tells me.)

The other thing that makes this whole scenario unique is that the date itself, should it ever take place, won't be your conventional "date" either. No, in the realm of celebrity dating, ReD Zone style, my date with Johnny Mathis will actually be a group date, as five of my fellow reporters (we're all female) hope to tag along. Plus, despite the appearance of safety in numbers, I'm sure his manager, publicist, and probably a photographer (maybe one of ours?) would insist on coming too. So it's not just me who's left to take a wait-and-see approach. It's nearly every staffer with a cubicle in what we've affectionately dubbed "Reporters' Row."

Stay tuned and I'll let you know exactly what my (ok, our) Chances Are ...!!!

On puddles and pencils

Somewhere on this beautiful, rainy night, a poor, sodden soul is trudging along Route 364, trying to hitchike his or her way out of the weather that completely crashed the party over at the Shell's first concert of its new-and-yet-somehow-not-so-improved season.

I will not even pretend to care about what kind of music is played by a group that goes by a name like "Rat Dog" or "String Cheese Incident" or how overpriced their tickets were at the new-and-improved venue that I will eternally insist on calling what it has been, is and forevermore shall be: the Shell. But I was happy to see a nearly full parking lot, and even two scalpers hawking tickets at the gas station on the corner. It triggered memories of the good ole days when Dave Matthews and Phish and Lilith Fair and the Barenaked Ladies took over the town, plaguing traffic up and down the major highways, and playing loud enough to hear the music all the way over on 5 and 20. Too bad opening night had to be ransacked by the rain.

I dare say Mother Nature was voting -- or would it be more accurate to say venting? -- her opinion on the musical lineup this summer. You'd think after a $10 million renovation, the place might pick up some business, but apparently we've all got another think coming on that one. I don't mean to imply that this season holds a lame lineup, but it's just so frustratingly similar to the lineups of the last 3-4 years, during which attendance has plummeted. I mean, let's face it: there are no American Idols, no Yo-Yo Mas, no one in the league of Eminem or 50 Cent, no Kenny Chesneys, and no Michael Buble'. I adore the RPO, and the 1812 Overture/Cannon/Fireworks night is an annual staple that makes the Shell the Shell. But it can't make up for the "gotta be there" headliners that don't seem to be there anymore. So maybe the rain was appropriate.

Speaking of, I got caught in the torrential downpour, and despite the parking space one row over and four slots up, despite the umbrella, by the time I made it inside Wal-Mart, I might as well have gone straight to the domestics section to buy a towel. I was the quintessential wet noodle.

But then, oh my word, rain and soggy shoes were forgotten, because there it was, between the card section and the cans of Koolaid. Stacks and stacks of No. 2 pencils, and Bics, and Crayolas and whatever is passing for a Trapper Keeper these days, not to mention the all-important wide-ruled spiral notebook.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but did we not just wrap up high school graduation weekend less than 15 days ago? So what is with this rush to get the boatloads of school supplies out? (Added an older, wiser woman I know: And why does the Dollar Store have the Christmas decor out already?) Wait. Don't tell me. The "Christmas in July" sale, right? I guess that's supposed to explain all the marketing madness.

Or maybe the full moon does.