Where Is My Merch, @DuranDuran?

Many months ago, I signed up to be a Gold Member of the Duran Duran fan club. This means I get lots of free sh*t for only 70$. I'm supposed to get a letter from the band, certificate of Duran Duran awesomeness, a Nick Rhodes tongue depressor, Simon's speedo circa 2008, the witchy spell to conjure Roger Taylor's intensity, special John Taylor nose hair plucked from his coke days and laminated, and Dom's new CD. I want this sh*t.

Do I dare pull out the big guns and start obsessing over Spandau Ballet instead?

Oh wait! Apologies. Forgot that Mercury has been in Retrograde!

My Last Duran Duran Concert

Not everything is rosy when it comes to Dish and Duran Duran. My love is tied up in adolescent angst, many shitty albums, abandonment issues with Roger and John, who left the band and almost didn't come back. Dizzying solo projects, untapped movie/book potential. Simon's beard bothers me because it's so obviously hiding middle-aged jowls. He looks like Shakespeare. Nick's brooches resemble the ones I wore circa 1985 but I let it slide because he's so artsy and a trendsetter. My love isn't blind. Okay, I guess I wouldn't change a thing about them.

By choice, I ditched mountains of work and hundreds of dollars to trek out to Foxwoods yesterday. It's a given that Duran Duran is a bright spot, but something made me cry as I left last night's concert. Maybe because they didn't play Rio.

Then it occurred to me: I'm having an existential crisis, which makes sense since I've been reading so much Sartre. These were my desperate thoughts:

I've been a fan for 30 years. I'm too old/too much of a fan to keep getting nosebleed seats. I've never flown First Class either. That really sucks.

The two women next to me were drunk and loud. One of them fell on me. She was a cow.

I always dread the moment when Simon Le Bon picks up a guitar and pretends to strum during Save a Prayer. I hate that song. I hate fake guitar playing. Stop it, Simon.

I didn't have enough space to dance. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I felt awkward.

They played 17 songs. I knew they were stuck in traffic on the way to Foxwoods, but Dish would never cut it off at 17. What they did play was awesome.

Before the show, I met people who hung out with the band on a regular basis. They were in the very front row, lapping up band-sweat. I was green with envy. I wish I could have tagged along with them, but I was the outsider. Maybe if I'd been pushier...Oh well, I sort of wanted to just go to bed after the show.

If this is so painful, how could I possibly attend John Taylor's book signing on 10/16? I probably wouldn't even get in the door.

It made me sad to realize that I'd need to spend more $$$ on VIP packages, be at death's door or freakishly win some deal from a radio show ever to meet them. Or I'd need to know someone and they'd have to follow through (which usually never happens). I could stake out their hotel in NYC, but I'm not a loser. It must be my choice to be meet-less thirty years later.

This didn't make me feel better. Here's what did:

I left the concert, mascara running, a woman suddenly barfing in front of me, and realized I hit the jackpot when I met TG. He is a real person and gives me joy at every moment (except when he drives in parking garages). He is there at the end. He won 35$ at the slots and got a free Hard Rock Cafe glass -- which is his equivalent to seeing Duran Duran.

A couple years from now, when the closest place they play is Wallingford, Connecticut, I think I will just stay home (unless I win something).

Happy Duran Duran Appreciation Day

Today is the official appreciation day for Duran Duran, though Dish feels this should be a daily event. I greet the dawn with Simon's quirky lyrics filling my head "with chopstick." By mid-morning, my sense of Nick Rhodes aesthetic kicks in. I notice architecture, the ripple in my coffee, well-rounded nostrils. At noon, I Tweet my every move to the masses, just like John Taylor. Tea-time is quiet, like Roger Taylor--well, except for my drumming on the coffee table while watching reruns of Sex and the City. By night I prepare again for my New Religion by rocking out like the unofficial but no less precious member of Duran Duran: the indubitable Dominic Brown. To all this, let's say Amen.

So...my mother has a wild crush on heartily enjoyed the star of Jersey Boys, John Lloyd Young, who dazzled us last night. She raved how impressed she was with his sparkling brown eyes vocal range and could we go see the show again? Tee hee. I bet she's obsessively watching Youtube videos of Jersey Boys right this second to enhance her knowledge of music history. Hurray! This means I might see the show again! Dish is beyond barking-batsh*t-obsessed with the music of Jersey Boys. John Lloyd Young was pure magic.

Rumors that smells like bullcrap: 1. Brangelina getting married this weekend in France? I dunno. This smells old to me. 2. That X-Files costars Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny are doing the XXX, which is the fervent wish of diehard fans (and greatest heartbreak of Disholdestfriend).

Patriarch Joe Simpson was busted for DUI. LOL! Frowny face.

Breathing the Same Oxygen as You Know Who

Damn you, Nick Rhodes. You're probably strolling by Chelsea art galleries as we speak. I live so close to Barney's Co-op, I could just camp out in the hopes that famous pop stars might need to load up on Kiehl's or 400$ t-shirts. It kills me to think the boys are HERE in NYC. Simon's beard is collecting flotsam and jetsam, covering my favorite diva's fluffy jowls. Then there's John Taylor. Ditching the vices of yesteryear, John is juice detoxing (he Tweets EVERYTHING). From what I know about detoxing, it involves multiple visits to the bathroom and that's too real for me. Dom and Roger are probably sitting somewhere being quiet. Where is Dish? Going about the business, as usual, because I'm not a big freak. Deep down, though, I'm standing near their hotel*, hoping for a peek.

If I have to acknowledge other stars, here you go: That dastardly Gisele might be preggo again. This causes the cosmos to heave majestic beauty hormones so violently, you might have felt a shower of glitter and laughter (saying you're not as sexy as I am, hahahahha!!!). There go my intestines, rumbling sympathetically with John Taylor's spastic colon. Kim revealed to Oprah that her marriage wasn't a sham. This sounds like the most boring interview ever. What else would she say? In sadder news, Ozzy Osbourne's son, Jack, just announced that he has MS. Poor guy. Sending him healing vibes.

Lastly, a virtual high-five to Ronan Farrow, an impressive fellow, who recently decimated his father Woody Allen on Twitter: "Happy father's day -- or as they call it in my family, happy brother-in-law's day." I'm so down with him on vengeance against dads who are sh*ts. Ronan Forever!

*I know which one!

Happy Birthday, Roger Taylor of Duran Duran!!!

Birthday Letter to Roger Taylor,

Over the last 29 years, I haven't paid much attention to you. You're the quiet one, you do your job, you don't appear to destroy hotel rooms or show/tell about a substance abuse problem, you're aging well and you even picked a more sedate life over continuing with your supergroup in the late 80s-early 2004s*. If you're secretly insane, you keep it to yourself.

The truth about my neglect is as follows: When I took the Facebook quiz, "Which Duran Duran Member Are You", it came out that I was YOU. The moment was very Heathcliff/ Catherine-esque but without the angsty romance and foggy moors. I remember where I was, in my office, the natural sun shining through the window and me smack dab in the middle of Main Street, Realityville. It all made sense. My oversight, my lack of constant praise (you know, Le Bon probably needs it more) for the gift that you are to the world was a minor form of self-loathing. Today I rejoice because I am Roger Taylor. And it's my birthday.

While Duran Duran continued after you left, it wasn't the same. You are an essential piece of the puzzle, the subtle/sublime/poker faced drum-twirl in "Girls on Film" that adds necessary oomph to a moment.

Happy 5__th birthday, you silent rogue!

Eating cake in your/my honor,
Dish

*For which I forgave you but only after several years and not fully. Can one ever truly forgive oneself?

Wish I'd Loved Larry Crowne

But even Julia couldn't save the flick, especially since there wasn't *enough* Julia. It was a me-me-me-fest for Tom Hanks (I do love him, tho) who co-wrote and directed this stinker. The performances were good--the script, super-bad and no burning chemistry between Tom and Julia. With cutesy cameos as filler and characters just farting around, the plot didn't go anywhere. Hero-transformation (but not much changes really--he's cool from start to finish), heavy drinking heroine pitches husband, cleans up her act and falls for hero, going over to his place to sample his "French toast." Two embarrassing make-out sessions between T & J, super-ewwww. I wanted to love it, but I wouldn't even save this for an alone-party full of facials, cake, and pedicures. If you have to see it, I suggest getting very intoxicated on whatever you can find. Sober, you'll enjoy Lt. Ahura (sp.) from Star Trek (he's awesome) and how beautifully Julia walks down halls in heels and cute dresses.

Tears of joy for Dish: It's a boy--Julian Roger Taylor--for Duran Duran drummer Roger Taylor and his wife Gisella Taylor. Congratulations to the family!

Javier Bardem and Ralph Fiennes confirmed for Bond #23. I am already standing in the ticket line. Officially Dish's favorite Bond, Daniel Craig has breathed new life into this franchise. Having Javier in the film just makes me want to cry with happiness. Remember how amazing he was in No Country for Old Men...and EVERYTHING ELSE?

In sad news, Betty Ford has passed away. What a legend. Blessings on her coming and going.

Happy Birthday to Roger Taylor of Duran Duran!

Not only is he a year older, still twirling those sticks, but he's aged magnificently. This is so insulting, yet I mean it in a nice way. For a really old person, he looks GREAT. No worries, I'm right on his heels. Here's to Roger and his tremendous talent! He's given Duranies around the world--especially Dish--ecstasy. Not *that* kind of ecstasy, maybe in the 80s. Just kidding...!

Dish feels quite happy over the strides made. Three years ago, I was in a puddle of misery, and now I experience joy I never thought possible. I may not have Donald Sutherland as my father (hubba hubba), a great estate in Pemberley or 4 sisters (can you say Kotex?), but I love my family, friends, and the new addition of TG--who thinks my art is brilliant.

Perez Hilton alleges that Lindsay Lohan will spend very little time in jail. Celebrity Justice, yay! Though, it does amaze me how some celebs like Lindsay get skewered, spend their lives in a courtroom, while others get away with murder, shooting their spouses accidentally, or other thuggery.

Most important and thanks to Dishbrother for passing me this gem. Julia has gone back to being a blonde--though I didn't realize she'd gone brunette since EPL. Such a step back to her "Danny and I bless-ed to be having twins" on Oprah days. See http://www.stylelist.com/2011/04/25/julia-roberts-blonde/ for crucial update!

Paul Reiser was a cranky-puss on The Tonight Show about his show being axed. TG and I watched it and found it uncompelling--maybe a little passe. Loved Mad About You, don't think today's younger viewers would get it. There's not enough trainwreck/blood/law enforcement/teen sex in whining old men comedies. The days of Frasier, Seinfeld, Becker are over...for now. Look forward to seeing them again.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel!

Isn't it great we live in a world where Jennifer Aniston's new hairdo makes international headlines? I peeked, I enjoyed, I'm getting the same style ASAP, especially since we might be roommates neighbors. Then I saw the sad news that four Americans were killed by pirates and not in a Johnny Depp movie. Death, destruction, war, revolt. The world needs perspective and a Xanax.

His religious fervor is weird to me but I love when Tom Cruise stretches himself artistically. His roles in Magnolia, Tropic Thunder, Jerry Maguire and Mission Impossible: 2 contain less camera awareness. Can't wait to see him in Rock of Ages. Think he might be brilliant.

Dish fantasized today about being Duran Duran's long-distance administrative assistant (I type 100+/minute but don't think I could bear close proximity as I'd need a tranquilizer) and career counselor. Thought: "Reach Up for the Sunrise" and "All You Need Is Now" and "What Happens Tomorrow" came from Simon Le Bon's Life Coach. Dish could be Duran Duran's Life Coach. I have so many goals for them: Simon in a feature film, Nick Rhodes creating art franchise in NYC (more Page Six mentions with leggy models), John exec producing and starring in Sugar Town II with Juicy Couture doing the costumes, Roger DJing in New York and Dom, well, finally being the fifth member. Okay, I need a Get a Life Coach--FAST. This is what happens when Glee sucks.

Happy Birthday to Susan Lucci!!!

And Eddie Vedder and Ralph Fiennes, but mostly Susan (who reminds us a little of Dishmama)!

Dish did something very embarrassing today--all for love. Love of TG, love of my upcoming wedding...and love of Duran Duran. I bombarded Roger Taylor's Facebook page with information about my ceremony music. I figured since FB's quiz "Which Duran Duran Member Are You?" indicated I'm Roger, he'd enjoy this news. Simon, John and Nick might be too flashy to get Dish's quietness. Plus, Roger and I love the same song on the new Duran Duran album. Can you tell I'm trying to project my nervous excitement onto DD rather than obsess about wedding. This is a crazy time. Will the lambs stop screaming, Clarisse?

Poor Jets coach Rex Ryan with his foot fetish hitting the Internets. Everyone has their thing. Mine is...all over this blog. And if you haven't heard yet, here's a Christmas present: Jersey Shore's Pauly D will get his own show because he's sooooo interesting. Perhaps he'll be discussing Cicero's speeches against Cataline.

A Duran Duran Nightmare

I've seen Duran Duran in concert at least 7 times, each time more spectacular than the last. You may not like DD, but I dare you not to love their live shows. Sadly, I experienced a bad show last night in my dreams. Picture it: outdoors, warm weather, a private party so intimate one could be 5 feet from Simon, Nick, Roger, John, and unnamed guitarist who isn't officially part of the band. Finally, a moment 28 years in the making. Headline: Dish meets Duran Duran. I waited an hour, then another. Finally, Simon emerged with mysterious musicians--and he was a spiky-haired little bitch! Not only that but he lip-synched. I was so distraught, I covered my ears and ran out. What does this mean? Are the gods angry that I'm walking down the aisle to "Rio?"

Let's forget this bad dream, children. Onto better topics: I got a request not to blog about a red-haired comic who turns 50 today. And no, it's not me. She's the one who got the public pap smear (how's that for an image, JJ?) Even juicier than a birthday, David Cassidy was arrested for alleged DUI. According to TMZ, he failed two breathalizers but claims they are wrong and is fighting the charge. The mug shot is one of the best I've ever seen. I think I love you!

How Can I Refudiate This?

Sarah Palin has invented a new word: Refudiate. I understand exactly what she means so let's use it. Sarah has a big wedding to plan and, of course, I'm contributing to the cause by buying the latest US magazine where a womanly Bristol and Levi with baby pose for the cover.

Dish has her own wedding to plan and I'm wondering: What about a Duran Duran themed wedding? Menu: Simon Le Bon Bons Wardrobe: Tuxes Taylored by John and Roger. And as today's wedding coordinator said to Dish: "All Rhodes lead to Nick." Fedora wedding favors. You can take your own Girls on Film. After the ceremony, everyone will be Hungry Like the Wolf. During the reception, we'll play the Wedding Album and it will be a Late Bar whose liquor will vanish Faster Than Light. That's All She Wants.