Who's that Girl?

Happy Fiftieth--yes, that's right-- Five-oh--birthday, Madonna Louise Veronica "Ester " "Madge" Ciccone Ritchie! I've been waiting for August 16th all year, as I knew this was the day the Material Girl would indeed turn 50 (which is, of course, the new 40).

Madonna, queen of pop since 1983 when she burst onto the scene via Solid Gold (anyone remember that show?) and via the glorious MTV (when they used to actually show music videos), is celebrating her half-century mark somewhere unbeknownst to me but hopefully known to her estranged husband.

I was there for the whole thing, people.

Who can forget the "Boy Toy" belt, the black rubber bracelets (all five zillion of them), the pointy bras, the Vogue-ing, the acting (do you remember her in "Vision Quest?"), the terrorizing of the Catholic Church, the fake accents (of which I'm not sure were ever intentional but just rather bizarre--and, I'm not even talking about "Santa Baby"), the Playboy Photos (shave your armpits!), Truth or Dare, the "Sex" book (can I sell that thing on e-Bay?), Sean Penn (remember that marriage?), Warren Beatty, Sandra Bernhard, the David Letterman visit, Rosie O'Donnell in general, Evita (and the Golden Globe), the authoring of children books, the arrival of Kabbalah (and the name Ester and the omnipresent red string on the wrist), the new re-development of playing the guitar, the hair-dos, the videos, the Brittney kiss (what about poor Christina?), the Mrs. Ritchie coat? None of which could ever outdo her concerts.

Madonna at 50 gives me hope. For crying out loud, look at her muscles. She can dance and sing at the same time for two hours and not once sit down and take a nap.

You DO know she was inducted into the Rock and Roll hall of Fame this year, don't you?

My first Madonna siting was in 1987 when I dragged the wife to Soldier Field in Chicago for the Blond Ambition Tour. As our seats were in the ozone as far as one can get from the stage, Madonna looked like an ant. A little, bitty ant, at that. But, there was no mistaking it was her and there was no lack of fun. We danced with all the gay guys sitting by us and didn't bother sitting down for the entire show. I can tell you what I wore, I can tell you where we parked, I can tell you about the weather, I can tell you about the opening band, I can tell you what two t-shirts I purchased at the concert. (Trivia: the band "Level 42" opened for Madonna. Anyone remember them? I didn't think so.) It was so fun that I went and saw the same show when visiting my parents in Dallas, this time dragging friend TV Magpies along for the ride. Our seats were still in the ozone but right by the stage, so Madonna was a bigger ant and we could actually see her in person instead of just on a jumbo-tron. I do believe I owe my mother BIG TIME for that one, as I'm thinking she's the one that got the tickets. What a wild mama! (Trivia trivia: Level 42 didn't open for her in Dallas; it was Technotronic that opened the concert--pump up that jam!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1K7fL5s_1ac

From there, it was no more opening acts for the queen of pop. Who needs an opening act when you are Madonna? The Girlie Show, Drowned World Tour, Re-invention Tour, Confessions Tour (two times) and soon-to-be the Sticky and Sweet Tour, all with MJagger in tow. We ARE Madonna Whores!

Side note: Just so you don't think I am excessive in the Madonna concert department, let me just tell you that I'm guessing MJagger has seen the Rolling Stones about ten times and Bon Jovi like 20 times in concert, so she is SO much more a concert whore than I am. I am just a Madonna Whore.

Dancing to Madonna music is a wonderful thing, as any gay boy can tell you. "Get Into the Groove" was a fun one until "Vogue" came along. I hate to admit that I spent many a night vogue-ing with friends (at the Travler....but, that's a whole 'nother story--the wife would have to admit she liked to vogue at the Travler). I EARNED my nickname of "Madonna" and I am proud of it. Hello, it wasn't because I like Madonna. It's all about the dancing. Well, that and the bra spinning on the ceiling fan at the Ace of Diamonds, but that's REALLY a whole 'nother story.

I will not even try to calculate on the money I have spent on Madonna. She and her kingdom have a lot of my money: concert tickets, t-shirts, concert parking, albums, cassettes, videos, DVDs, children's books, Sex book and CDs. I really can't brag about all the expenditures lest the wife once again say to me, "You have selective saving. If you really want something, you can save for it."

Um, yeah, that is true. Kind of like my selective hearing.

Did you just say something?

Now, I like all my Madonna paraphernalia and I love her videos and I'm all about her music...but there is nothing like seeing Madonna in concert because she knows how to put on a performance. Actually, it's more like a happening than a concert. It's an event. One must prepare for such an event, as you know from my previous blog entries.....

....One must be ready to sacrifice hard earned money and pride. One must be willing to face the ridicule from loved ones in regards to the time, effort and cold, hard cash that is spent in order to be part of the blessed event. One must be willing to abdicate his/her faith to truly experience the Madonnaverse. One must figure out what the hell to wear to the concert because all that dancing makes you sweaty and if it's cold out you can't NOT wear clothes and a coat.....one must have the perfect outfit and the perfect hairdo, despite the fact that all that dancing will make your hair look like shit and your clothes all drippy smelly. One must have a major credit card to buy a t-shirt at the concert (because they ain't $35.00--you need plastic to buy one of those things). One must work out vigilantly so one is in shape for all the dancing, hopping and singing that will occur during the concert.

As I am just a few years younger than Ms. Thang, I understand how working out is vital at this point in our lives.....although she works out for seven or eight hours a day and I do my twenty minute Jillian Michaels video. I may have to step it up a notch--maybe a Jillian Video and then a 2 mile Leslie Sansone Walking Tape. Maybe I can get MJagger to walk a few times a week so I can get in even better shape. I hate to admit it, but maybe if I ate less ice cream and more leafy vegetables, I'd lower my cholesterol AND be in an improved, awesome Madonna-concert shape.

I don't think Madonna eats ice cream. Not even on her 50th birthday.

Not even for a tour named "Sticky and Sweet." I'm thinking she's not eating any candy for the big five-oh.

But, then again, I don't think she was talking about candy when she wrote those songs.

Whatever--I'll eat the ice cream in her honor and she can go dance seven or eight more hours in preparation for her pending world tour. Happy 50th Birthday, Madonna! See you in Chicago.....

....and remember, instead of singing Happy Birthday, just sing the diddy, "if you want it, you already got it; if you thought it, it better be what you want."

I want to have biceps like Madonna when I'm 50. And her money. I'd like her money. Well, just a little of it. I don't need to get greedy. And, ice cream. I'd like to have some ice cream with that money.....