Final Confessions of a Madonna Whore

First, I think I’ll grovel for donations to the “Addi WP-is-broke-because-she-is-such- a-Madonna-whore” foundation (checks, cash, Paypal, direct payment to my credit card gladly accepted world wide).....then, I’ll yip about how the whole buy-tickets-for-the-concert thing happened, then I’ll tell you about concert; then I’ll tell you how much I lust her “Madge-esty.” Rest assured, this will be the last babbling about Madonna for at least a few hours. Okay, weeks.

It is all MJagger’s fault…or, at least that’s what I’m going to tell the wife. I was innocently sitting in her office yesterday morning when the insanity began. Had we been doing our work like we were supposed to be doing, this might not have happened, so I think I’ll blame my employer, too.

There were only a few tickets on ebay for the Monday night concert—quite a contrast from the other concerts where there were a bazillion auctions. But, there the tickets were—row 1, seats 1 and 2. Madonna would literally drip sweat on you. MJagger and I looked at each other, looked at the computer screen, looked at each other. Somewhere in the back of my brain I heard a voice yelling, “NOOOOOOOO!” Somewhere in the front of my head, Grover was saying, “do it, do it, do it, do it.” (He’s all about concerts.) The problem? The tickets were $1400/pair. Now, $700 for the best seats in the house really isn’t that disgusting, but my credit card is already smoldering with need of payment, I have no cash to my name and I’m not even able to have a frappacino these days without giving up some basic need. But, Grover continued to pound in my head; MJagger was salivating. Salivating! These were the tickets she had dreamed of…..I got up and left the room. Why? Because I may be dumb but I’m not stupid. Had I stayed there, I know we would have purchased those tickets. I listened to that voice of vomit that was telling me $700 was not mine to spend, not even on Madonna. (And yes, I could visualize the death stare I would receive from the wife. It is a good deterrent to doing really dumb things.) . I was so distraught, I basically went home for an early lunch and paced back and forth for 30 minutes and kept thanking myself for leaving MJagger’s office.

We finally settled on purchasing tickets the legit way—off Ticketmaster. Incredibly, there were these two awesome seats on the floor, right by the catwalk, still available. Who I am to say no to destiny? I charged those puppies faster than you can say, “Interest fees are going to kill you.” MJagger reminded me that we might be hit by a bus tomorrow, so we should go to the concert tonight. Damn, I hate when people use my own reasoning. I purchased the tickets, giddly with delight. I was too excited to take a nap, too crazed to eat lunch, too energetic to sit around and wait for the concert. I took a shower (why, I don’t know—something to do, I guess), took the dogs to Mc Donald’s for a “Freckles-birthday-hamburger” and paced around some more.

The trip to the United Center went smoothly and we ended up getting there way too early (if there is such a thing as being too early for Madonna). We stood around and made fun of peoples’ clothing choices and noted how many old, crusty white people were in attendance. We ate, we peed, I watched MJagger drink a beer, we peed. MJagger took me to our seats—I could have peed again. We were RIGHT BY the end of the catwalk!! Praise Grover, we were gonna see Madonna’s eyeballs, being as close as we were about to be. The money for these tickets no longer made me want to vomit—this was going to be more orgasmic than our first outing on last Wednesday!

Suffice it to say, we almost gave birth when Madonna came out of that disco ball to open the concert, because we WERE RIGHT THERE! RIGHT THERE!!! Dear god, we are SO THERE! There stood Madge, only feet away from us. I could see the color of her eyes. I could see she didn’t have any crows feet (bitch!) and I would have been able to see a booger in her nose had she had one. It was love! MJagger and I danced our way to fame and glory. We really didn’t need to try and sneak in to better seats because we had kick-ass seats. (Don’t worry—Mjagger tried to uphold her reputation by sneaking closer to the front of the stage, but her efforts were repeatedly thwarted by evil ushers…..I don’t think she was trying as hard as she already had great seats and thus lacked motivation to go forward with her seat hopping needs.)

Not that the majority of you care (I can’t believe you are still reading this dribble), the set list included: (Disco ball opening) Future Lovers / I Feel Love (Medley); Get Together; Like A Virgin; Jump; Live To Tell (the disco cross/crown of thorns song); Forbidden Love; Issac (with the guy who actually sings the song in some other language); Sorry (MJagger, I am still sorry); Like It Or Not; Sorry Remix (Video Interlude); I Love New York (still sucking George Bush’s dick); Let It Will Be; Ray Of Light; Drowned World/Substitute For Love; Music / Disco Inferno (Medley, complete with roller skates); La Isla Bonita; Erotica/You Thrill Me; Lucky Star; and, of course, Hung Up. Toward the end of the concert, Madge has a plethora of gold mylar balloons fall from the sky. I wanted one (MJagger had grabbed several at previous concerts) but none fell my way. Oh well. Suddenly, MJagger is standing next to me, handing me a balloon. What a true friend! I think she knocked over an usher to get me that balloon (which I shall frame and keep forever).

At the end of “Hung Up,” MJagger yelled for us to go, as we knew the concert was over and there would be no encore. I found this strange as MJagger is not one to leave in a hurry. As I chased her up the stairs, I yelled, “WHY ARE WE RUNNING?” but couldn’t hear her answer. It was like a sprint. Turns out, she was running to the bathroom, cuz she REALLY had to go. No lines for the toilet, so that was a bonus. (I had to hold the balloon in my teeth while peeing because you need both hands while hovering and I didn’t want anyone to steal my balloon and I didn’t want to put it on the floor so it would become pee-soiled.) Once she relieved her very full-of-beer-bladder, she was back to her old walking self.

The car ride home was hilarious, with MJagger talking the whole way. I really enjoyed it. It’s nice to have someone who is as obsessed with Madonna as I am and who is crazy enough to go to the concert THREE times (and you thought me going two times was bad). I bet we’d go again, given the chance. Thankfully, Madge has moved on to Canada and our credit cards will have time to air out…..

Thank you, MJagger (for the concert memories), Grover (for the encouragement, albeit naughty) and the wife (for not throwing me out after spending all this money on Madonna tickets). Thank you, blog reader, for indulging my obsession.

I’ve got three years before I will be as old as Madonna is right now—that gives me three years to practice McYoga and to get in shape…..by then, she’ll be doing her “I’m 50” tour and god knows we’ve got to get ready for that.