Don't be a drag. Just be a Queen.

I was going to write about the wife's virginal encounter with acupuncture, but I am torn because I'm not sure how I can NOT write about Lady Gaga arriving in an egg at the Grammys.  (Egg, vessel, whatever--it looked like an egg to me.)   I'm going to a Lady Gaga concert in less than 12 days, so Gaga trumps the wife's second chakra.  Besides, the wife is now standing upright and able to take more than five steps in a row without making primal scream noises, so she can wait.

In case you were in a cave on Sunday or were on a three-day binge: Lady Gaga arrived at the Grammys in an egg-like container, as sashayed down the red carpet by scantily clad human beings with pointy things stuck to/in their foreheads.  (Note to nieces: do NOT get devil horn body modification implants in your forehead--it will dampen your job prospectives).  I am not going to relive the stories of the egg or preparation for egg-dom, as there are a billion stories out there waiting for your Googling.  For instance, you can go to the Huffington Post and get stories, video and photos all in one shot:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/02/13/lady-gaga-egg-grammy-arrival_n_822625.html


I personally thought the whole egg thing was genius.  I mean, wouldn't it be really awesome to arrive at work via an egg carried by four scantily clad beings?  Imagine your arrival: "Hey, here comes Addi Warrior Princess? Is she in an egg again? I hope she didn't forget the donuts this time.  HEY! GET YOUR EGG OUTTA MY PARKING SPACE!"

Genius.

Even more genius (genius squared) was Gaga's pre-Grammy interview on "60 Minutes."  I'm sure you can find the interview with Anderson Cooper on Tube-You (it's worth it, but I'm a Gaga whore, so I'm no judge); if you don't have time for that nonsense, you can read what it was all about in various corners of the internet, such as at http://www.mtv.com/news/articles/1657850/lady-gaga-smokes-pot-60-minutes.jhtml

Wouldn't it be awesome to arrive at work with nary a piece of clothing to be found? You throw on a few pieces of undergarments or rubber glove parts or some skin-colored body suit, get out of your egg, sigh, and then matter-of-factly exclaim, "I just didn't feel like wearing clothes today."

How can you not love this stuff?

For the record, I don't really care that Ms. Gaga smokes weed and drinks whiskey when she's writing music.  I don't care that she drops fake diamonds into her morning coffee. Like all the good little monsters of the world, I embrace her the way she is, pointy shoulders and all.  All I really care about is knowing if Gaga was in the egg for 72 consecutive hours or "just" a total of 72 hours.  I mean, a girl's gotta poop sometime.

So many egg questions.  Did she wear the same clothes for 72 hours? Did she smell after being in an egg for 72 hours? What did she do in there? Was she channeling David Blaine? Where'd she get that egg, anyways? Who makes an egg like that? It's not like you can look up "Egg Transporter" in the Yellow Pages. Did she go to the bathroom before exiting the egg to dance on the Grammys? How can you dance like that if you have to pee? How did she brush her teeth?  Did she brush her teeth? Show me your teeth, mama monster!

I'm not sure how I ever sleep, with questions like these always swirling in my brain.
 
Some people are not entertained at all by this. They don't find egg entrances interesting or artistic or whatever. Well, I am smitten with entertainment.  SMITTEN.

Haters, be gone!  Leave my Mama Monster alone!

As for the wife (who has NO questions about the Lady Gaga egg whatsoever), she went and had some acupuncture two days ago.  From what I see, it is a miracle of the Lord.  She is back to walking without a limp and sleeping without crying.  She doesn't squirm in pain when seated at the kitchen table for dinner.  While she isn't running marathons, she is back to cleaning things and pointing out all the things I didn't clean when she was down and out.  I take this as an awesome sign.  I have no idea how acupuncture works.  To be honest, I don't care if it's all placebo effect; as long as it helps the wife, I am all good with it.

I do know that although she is much improved, she is in no shape to be riding in an egg.

Seems the wife has a clogged second chakra.  It's never good to have a constipated second chakra--you are going to have to take my word for it.  A clogged second chakra is much more complicated than understanding a pop star in an egg. So, the wife needs some east-meets-west medicine.  A little energy balancing, a little icing, a little ibuprofen, a little stretching, a little meditation, a little acupuncture.

I think a little weed-smoking and whiskey drinking might also do the trick, but we're trying to keep the wife on the wagon here, so I think we'll skip the Gaga-esque-Sciatica-Cure.  It's acupuncture, no egg-riding, sobriety and lots of rest for the wife.

Me? I'm gonna go out and find me an egg.  After all, the concert is only 12 days away and I have to have some form of transportation......actually, I've got a bunch of eggs to spare....but, I don't think I can ride in any of them.....

 Maybe I'll sell my eggs and just drive to the concert the old fashioned way.  Two monster paws up for this egg-cellent idea!

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"I'm on the right track, baby--I was born this way!"
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