Riding on your Disco Stick

I had a choose between taking a nap before going out tonight and writing a blog. Lucky you--I chose to remain sleep deprived and write the blog. After all, I am on a gaga high and must write of it before I crash and burn.

May I just say: If imitation is truly the finest, highest form of flattery, Madonna must be flattered til she's splattered on the glitter covered, disco dance floor.

MJagger, her sister and I (being the concert whores that we are) went to the Lady Gaga concert in Milwaukee last night....on a school night, as the wife likes to say. (The wife stayed home. She chose to pass on the AddiGaga experience.) I put on my cargo shorts (great place to keep things like cell phone, wallet, disco stick--this is no time to dress up.....although I did consider gaga-ing myself), snagged some fast food for the road and hit the tollway. A few hours later, I met my concert-going friends at their hotel near the venue.

We knew it'd be weird, fun, entertaining....but, really you can't understand Lady Gaga until you've personally experienced her and her fans in person.

I've decided Lady Gaga doesn't put on a concert--she puts on a performance--a happening--a spewing of glitter, fashion, music, purpose, tattoos, naughtiness, fun--an explosion of little monsters prancing around like they are at the world's biggest, most fun gay pride extravaganza (which, in actuality they were at--Lady Gaga is quite the supporter of the LGBT community & puts on quite the homoerotic show). All five senses are drown in overload--it's visually delicious, loud with a purpose. My knee pain provided a tactile, kinesethic event while the passing of an illegal substance and smelly armpits fulfilled any olfactory need.

We didn't have seats, as the new way to do concerts is to be on the floor--where they used to have floor seats--and not have seats. Go figure. There are literally no chairs. Actually, it is really smart, as when you do have seats, you don't sit in them, anyways and it makes for a great dance floor, albeit cement in nature (hard on the knees). Being that MJagger and her sister are professional concert goers, I knew we wouldn't have any trouble weaseling our way up to the catwalk. By the time Gaga made it to the end of the catwalk, we were up close and personal--I could see the whites of Gaga's big eyes.

This is a photo of what looks to be Lady Gaga peeing in the hallway. Actually, it is a Gaga-wanna be squatting for no known reason in the hallway. She wasn't peeing and was actually very nice. How do I know this? Because I ended up talking to her and her Gaga-ized friend while waiting for the concert to start.

Really does look like she's peeing, tho.

Gaga kept us waiting for quite some time before starting the show. No opening bad--who needs an opening act when you are the heir to the Madonna throne? By the time she finally took the stage, the place was vomiting with excitement.

The premise is that we, her little freaks--called "Little Monsters," are on a mission to find the "Monster ball," kind of like Dorothy looking for the Wizard of Oz....only, with a lot less clothing & a lot more music. Of course, getting to the ball is quite the challenge. I must say, we were taken on a journey like no other.

Sure beats a cross country family vacation in a station wagon.

Gaga had a lot to say--I think she talked more than any other performer I have seen--she confessed her insecurities, asked for our support, oozed love and pride and gratitude for us. I am pretty sure she performed every song she has every recorded in the two plus hour concert. She danced and pranced and strutted; she covered herself with blood, changed outfits more in one show than I do in one month. Gaga sang her heart out (after he ate her heart), taking oath never to lip sync during live performances. She channeled Madonna throughout the show--dressing up like a nun on a subway (complete with see through nun habit), setting a statue of Jesus/angel statue on fire after having it bleed from the wings, rolling on the floor touching herself like there was no tomorrow.

In other words, it was genius.

Gaga repeatedly reminded the crowd that Jesus loves everyone, even her motley crew of little monsters. Where were my co-workers when I needed them to hear this? In case you had any doubts about yourself, you left there without them. Gaga should have been a therapist. Heck, her concert was much cheaper than therapy and a hell of a lot more fun (this coming from a counselor--I should know).

We won't even talk about how much cheaper her concert tickets are than Madonna's tickets.

I enjoyed Gaga's unstuffing of her bra. Not very often you see a performer do that. I also enjoyed that she gave $20,000 to a local charity supporting GLBT services.

By the time we found the Monster Ball--just in time for her "Bad Romance" encore, my knees were on fire in pain, I was a dripping ball of sweat, I was covered in spilled-when-dancing-beer and I was thinking about how much I'd like to see this concert again. I give her two monster paws up.

The only regret was that I left my camera in the car. I figured they wouldn't let me bring it in. I was wrong. Cameras were everywhere and she didn't care one bit; in fact, she encouraged everyone to take photos. What a refreshing change of concert pace. Camera phone photos don't do justice to anything--they look like crap. Well, at least I have some to remember the event.....

....besides my sore, aching, bruised knees.

You know it was a good time when you can go to work the next day after getting four hours of sleep and people are commenting about what a good mood you are in.

If you want to read what the Milwaukee paper had to say about this particular performance, go to http://www.jsonline.com/entertainment/musicandnightlife/102148864.html

Take my word for it: Lady Gaga is bizarre, delicious, vulgar, funny, entertaining, empowering, delightful, happy, shiny, healing, energetic, colorful, naughty, bloody and genius.

Here that sound, Madonna? That's your heir apparent sneaking up behind you. Don't turn around....your mini-me has arrived....and she is most definitely not bluffin' with her muffin.'