"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity." ~ Gilda Radner

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


Confession: the Grammys mean nothing to me anymore.

Caught  a glimpse of them the other night while visiting my sister.

First thought: Who are all those performers? Never heard of most of them.

Second thought: Lady Gaga? Gag. Me.

My long-ago idol
This, of course, coming from the gal who, when she turned 30, idolized Madonna for a brief, misguided moment in time.

I was totally gettin' into the groove, goin' for that 80s/Desperately Seeking Susan look, plastering my bedroom walls with Madonna posters, buying all her records...

What the hell was that all about? What was I thinking?

And I suspect some Lady Gaga fans may ask themselves the very same thing when they are in their 50s someday.

Or, in the disparaging words of my dear, departed Dad while he watched The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show back in the day: You call that music?

Yup. Showing all the signs of an aging disco diva gone geezer:

I adore Big Band Era tunes. Still know all the words to the songs of the 60s. Find comfort in the sounds of the 70s. Enjoy a few faves yet from the 80s and 90s. Hangin' on by a thread to some Country.

I used to keep up with all the new music. But somewhere along the line, I fell out of the loop. Not sure when. Or why.  But for all intents and purposes, my new music groove has gone AWOL.

Missin' this guy
Truth is, I yearn for the good ol' days of Dick Clark and American Bandstand.

I'll give Lady Gaga a "0", Dick.  You can undulate to it while out clubbing.  That's about it.

So go ahead. Call me a relic, call me what you will.

Bottom line: Where's Barry Manilow when you need him?

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