Robert Smith Will Save Us All

I have the most awesome husband ever. Yesterday, totally randomly, he surprised me with tickets the The Cure concert. Oh, man. I love the Cure. You've heard me wax poetic about Coke? If Robert Smith asked me to give it up, I would. I really would. Just to thank him for his brilliance. I love his music so much, and by extension, oh, how I love him! I've loved him for so long, ever since I pulled my head out of my butt long enough to listen to his lyrics when I was 12 and Ashley listened to him all the time. I love him for making up words like "angelicate," which just hearing you know EXACTLY what he means. I love the little eyeroll he does when he sings. I love that when he's actually speaking, I can't understand even one word that comes out of his mouth. I love him for turning phrases like these:

"and when i see you kitten as a cat
yeah as smitten as that
i can't get that small
the way you fur
the how you purr
it makes me want to paw you all
and when i see you happy as a girl
that lives in a world of make-believe
it makes me pull my hair all out
to think i could've let you leave"

I could go on and on forever, but, oh man, I just LOVE him. So last night was TOTALLY AWESOME! I swear for the first ten songs, it was like he knew I was coming. It was all the songs that just make my soul melt right out of my pores. If it isn't his amazingly perceptive, poetic, beautiful lyrics, it's the way he plays that dang guitar! Remember my desire to play guitar? Thank him. (You know, if you care to thank anyone for MY desire to play guitar...) And then, beyond those first ten songs, I must have turned to Bryce at least fifty times and said, "This is in my top ten favorite of all songs EVER." Which, yeah, despite the discrepancy, it's pretty much accurate anyway.

We didn't bring a camera, because I thought we'd be too far. But actually, we weren't that far. I was close enough to see the eyeroll! (The layers of black liner he was wearing helped a little, too.) But the lovely girl next to me didn't think me weird when I asked her to e-mail her pictures to me. First thing this morning, the link to her Flickr account was waiting for me, and here are a few of the decent ones.

My bardThe band

This was a fairly new guitarist, to my knowledge. He reminded Bryce and I of one of the Guitar Hero characters. He had this black shape inked around his eye, bald as a pool cue, and a spider-webby shirt thing that looked like a skin of tattoos. But the icing on the cake were his SHOES. Patent leather boots, and I bet they were probably four-inch long platform heels.

Bryce also came back from a bathroom break with a t-shirt of Boys Don't Cry, the best song ever. Or one of the best songs, ever. Seriously, in the top ten. I think this has all earned Bryce at least six months of nightly foot and back rubs and me feeding him grapes. Next time, though, Ashley SOOO has to come with me. Side note: The title was something I saw on a girl's t-shirt last night and I loved it. Side note 2: Bryce said that phrase is from South Park, which I don't know, I don't watch it, but there you go.

Some may disagree...

... but I think this is one of the most fabulous dresses I have ever seen.
I just can't stop staring. Someone photoshop my head on her body.

Ewwwwww...

I'm sorry, but THIS is NOT attractive.  Less time in the gym, more time eating steaks and fries, please.

Random Tag

I'm still going to post some cute finds, but it will be later, today has been quite busy.  Danielle from Old Memories, New Hope has tagged me, and I must post five random factoids about me.

1.  I watched Bosom Buddies avidly as a kid (with Amy) and swore I was going to marry Tom Hanks.  I still have dreams about him sometimes.

2.  When we were little, Ashley and I shared a room that we never cleaned.  Once we were fighting about it, and she swung her little girl purse and hit me on the head.  The glass bottle of nail polish she had inside broke.  Ouch.

3.  I once married my cat.

4.  I actually like the smell of skunk, as does my sister Amy.  (In our defense, I once read an article that said there is a small percentage of the population that for some reason doesn't get the full essence or something, so skunk is pleasant to them.  It smells different, not gross because of some weird, scientific reason.  I was relieved that I wasn't a freak, because we were afraid to admit it to anyone.)

5.  I think the Crocodile Hunter was one of the coolest people who has ever lived.

I tag Sarah, Ashley and Shannon.

And I shut my eyes, I swear I could hear the sea*

I don't like to talk much about death, which is why I didn't mention the recent deaths widely reported, like Heath Ledger and most importantly Gordon B. Hinckley.  I just don't think anything I could say would do anything justice, so I keep quiet.  I haven't yet seen Gordon B. Hinckley's funeral, or perhaps I'd have something to say about it.  At any rate, I just read this about Heath Ledger's funeral, and I think it is so cool.  Perhaps it's the way it should be.

*The above line is from a Better than Ezra song called A Lifetime.

Step away from the microphone

As you may recall from this nostalgic post, I was a HUGE New Kids on the Block fan. Seriously, I was in their fan club, and I wept every time they were in town because my parents could not afford to send me to the concert.  For the first year or so, I was in love with Jordan, but I quickly moved on to Joey, rightfully so.  When they were on awards shows, I would literally sit there and tremble, much to the delight of my fire-extinguishing brother, who mocked me to tears.  I had a life-sized poster of them that hung in my room, and I would talk to it.  Lengthy and detailed discussions about our future together.  It was a magical relationship.  And then I grew up.  I thought they did, too.

But have you heard?  They are reuniting.  Why?  Seriously.  Why?  Who's gonna listen to that?  I mean, maybe for nostalgia's sake, a few old fans will indulge in some guilty-pleasure-NKOTB.  But for real?  I mean, shouldn't we all move on?  Shouldn't Joey just continue with his perfectly respectful Broadway career?  And shouldn't Donnie, actually talented as an actor, work on that?  And the rest of them, um, whatever it is they do...?  Just keep doing it.  Please.  Don't quit your day job.  Seriously.

Seriously.

Don't want to meet him in a dark alley

If you haven't yet heard, there's a pretty weird, creepy video circulating of Tom Cruise singing the praises of Scientology. It's over eight minutes long, and I couldn't even make it all the way through it. But watch a little of it, because knowing a little about it makes this little parody by Jerry O'Connell just that much funnier.

Dear Fashion Industry

True, I'm not a style icon. Certainly not since I had children and don't have the time or energy to put together an outfit that consists of anything more mature than a T-shirt, cuffed up jeans (because they are too long) and goofy sneakers. More often I look like a Pez-chomping high-school boy than a 30-year old mother. But I try. And I spend more time than I should perusing fashion magazines and drooling over the wardrobes of many a celebrity. Maybe I don't dress for my body type, but that's because I don't like blazers and my boobs bust the seams of any button-down top you could give me, and because I have an affinity for large, colorful prints and flowy lines. So with some exceptions, like this 80s trash you keep trying to shove down my throat, I'll buy most of your ideas, in theory if not in pocketbook. But I simply must address a grave concern of mine. Maybe I'm in the minority, but you couldn't get any of these ankle boots on my feet unless it was on my cold, dead body, and good luck even then. I'm sorry, but they are ugly. They don't look good with mini-dresses or cropped pants. Truly, I think I've never seen anything uglier in my whole life. I think I'd wear feathered, sky-high bangs before I'd lace one of those babies up. I mean, I love Little House on the Prairie as much as the next gal, but this ain't the prairie with a long dress to cover them up, and I ain't Half Pint.

Also, what's up with the Oxford booties, hmm? That's really pushing it, you know. I mean, that's a very easy line to cross straight into Hideous Town, Uglyville County U.S.A. I almost like them, especially if they are like these. Very cute, indeed. But tread carefully, my friends. Tread very carefully. And the peep-toe bootie thing? Just stop. Stop it now before you hurt yourself. Or my corneas.

Love,
Kelli

Who cares when it's so pretty?

Okay, so we just finished Pirates of the Caribbean At World's End. I read all the reviews when it was in theaters, and listened to friends talk about how crazy confusing the script was, and how it made no sense with too many tangents and tidbits to choke up the plot. And they were right. But, wow, I didn't even care one bit. It was so spectacular to watch. And I've always loved Bill Nighy, the fabulous man who plays Davy Jones. I think he is one of the most talented actors ever, but now he's also crossed over to my list of "Manly Celebrities Who Can SootheMe To Sleep Every Night Just By Talking," joining the ranks of John Cusack and Jude Law. But Bill up and shot straight to number one. (Although not in my heart; that prestigious holding stays strong with Ryan Gosling.)

Shia, Shia, Shia

Dear Shia Lebeouf,

I've documented my appreciation for you here. And then I felt even more strongly for you when you said this: "Part of me wants to go out and see my peers. But if I go to a club and get my picture in the press, then I am that young Hollywood a--hole. That would shatter my world…. There's no way you get Tom Hanks' career without thinking about this stuff... Everyone turns 21. Not everyone gets to be in Indiana Jones." I thought, wow, he has some sense. He's going to have a great career with his talent and that attitude. What a nice young man. (Apparently I was channeling old ladies that day.) Alas, it was not to be. You've gone and, what's that you said? Acted like a young Hollywood a--hole. Shape up, Lebeouf. Don't make me come out there and beat you with a wire hanger.

Love,
Kelli
P.S. You are totally cute. But you are no Ryan Gosling.