Bernie's tattoo.
A possible tattoo for me? It says "ok" but it's upside down.
And, finally, this is Bernie.
Up in the sky
Poppin' champagne
Livin' my life
In the fast lane
And I wont change
For the Glamorous, ooh the flossy flossy
G – L – A – M – O – R – O – U - S
Tonight I went to the Minnesota State Fair for the first time in my life. How I have somehow managed to dodge this bullet for 33 years is beyond me. But, I made the trip for the first time to see the one and only Fergie.
The night began with Bernie picking me up for the concert. I had no idea really where the fair even was…just some place east of me…that was all I knew. Bernie is, hands down, one of my favorite people in the world. He just cracks me up all the time. We had gone to college together but weren’t really friends back then. Bernie was actually friends with my old roommate Jen, but over the years we’ve friend skipped and forged a friendship on our own. Sorry Jen. As we were driving I looked over and saw that Bernie now had a huge tattoo on his arm. I looked at it for a minute and thought is it real? Is it henna? Do they still have henna tattoos? When did he get the tattoo? Did I know he was going to get a tattoo? Did it hurt? Then I thought did he always have this tattoo and I somehow never noticed it before? Yes…my mind can ask a lot of questions in a really short amount of time. Is that a sign of ADD? Hey…what’s that over there? FOCUS.
So I had to ask and Bernie told me the story of his tattoo. Which was good. If you are going to get a tattoo there better be a story involved rather then I was drunk and my friends dared me to do it. Turns out his tattoo are the lyrics from one of his favorite religious hymns from a hundred years ago or something like that (I think…I was distracted by the tattoo, to be honest). He said that he was thinking about getting a tattoo for a few years now, but was unsure of what design exactly. I told him that the lyrics were a lot cooler than a Nick Lachey tribal arm band. He agreed. I just found the whole thing fascinating. I have thought about getting a tattoo, but I am way too indecisive to do it. I have no idea what I would get. Skull and crossbones on the part of my arm where a bicep should be? A kitten and rainbow on my hip? A Celtic knot with children’s names written in an elfish language? Oh wait…Virginia already did that last one. Scratch that.
As we drove, I asked him if he would get another one. He said he probably would at some point. See I heard it’s hard for people to stop at just one tattoo. It starts simple enough with a unicorn and then it snowballs and the next thing you know you are on the cover of “Tattoo Art” covered in only tattoos and starring on “Miami Ink”.
Now I find tattoos interesting because it is something that you will have forever (to a certain degree I guess, you could always laser it off down the road). You really need to be sure that you can live with it for the rest of your life. My brother got a tattoo on his back shoulder of an angel praying after our mom died. Makes sense…it marks a significant event in one’s life. People get a tattoo of something that means something to them. That’s the point, right? Then I started to think about things that truly matter to me. It’s hard to do. Either I am greatly disconnected to the life I live or I need to live life a little more. I couldn’t come up with much of a list. So I think I will wait awhile longer before I walk into the tattoo parlor unless, of course, I am hammered and my friends dare me.
Once we got to the fair I was shocked to see how packed it was. I wish I would have had my camera with me. It was literally a sea of people. I couldn’t focus on anything because there was too much of everything.
We made our way to the Grandstand dodging large people eating everything and anything on a stick, weaving through baby strollers and screaming parents, and shuffling through a lot of litter. It was a maze of all that is wrong in our world. I figured it was a large performance space since it’s called Grandstand and all but I did not realize it was monstrously huge. There were just under 11,000 people there for the only the concert. Wow. I did not expect that. It took forever for the show to begin but once Fergie too the stage there was no looking back…it was a trainwreck. T – R – A – I – N – W – R – E – C – K.
The crowd was a mix people with the majority leaning towards teenage girls. They went crazy when Fergie sang “Personal (Big Girls Don’t Cry). The girls threw their arms in the air waving their cell phones, swaying back and forth and singing along on top of their lungs. It was deafening. The Church of Fergie was in full force.
Our seats were next to some of my co-workers, so that was fun. Molly’s friend ended up getting pretty trashed. At one point she spilled her beer on me. Without fail…a sloppy drunk and I will cross paths and they will spill his or her drink on me. You can bet on it.
Looking around there went too many fashion offenses. I have heard numerous tales of the uprisings of the fashion victims at the fair. The closest I saw to anything that would have sent fashionistas running for the hills was some older people wearing fanny packs. Not too major of an offense…not pretty...but also not the end of the world. But, I did see a guy walk past us wearing a Madonna tank top from her Drowned World Tour 2001. That was a kindred spirit in an unexpected place. I also saw a guy wearing a t-shirt of the Indigo Girls. Now, that was odd. Fergie and the Indigo Girls. Sounds like someone has some personal issues to sort out to me.
The worst part of the show was the band jam during her costume change. Oh Lord it was bad. All of a sudden there was a trumpet and a saxophone. Where in the hell did they come from? I don’t remember ever hearing real instruments in her songs. But…why not, right? Maybe they were trying to class it up a little bit. Who knows? But, whoever had that idea should be fired on the spot. It was terrible. T – E – R – R – I – B – L – E. I actually talked Molly and her drunk friend into booing loudly during the jam. They did it. My goal was to get the entire Grandstand booing, but it didn’t catch on as I had hoped. Different strokes for different folks, I guess.
Another lowlight was when she sang “Mary Jane Shoes” (which samples “No Woman, No Cry” by Bob Marley). Bernie made a joke about Tom Petty’s song “Mary Jane’s Last Dance”. I thought he was serious and tried to explain to him that she was actually singing about shoes to which he was offended that I doubted his fashion knowledge. Touché. I should have known better. Bernie knows a lot about fashion. He reminds me of one of the characters that works at Mode on “Ugly Betty”. But, the song did give me my favorite moment of the evening. It was a moment of surrender to Fergie and the night as a whole. Bernie and I sang along loudly. Good old Bernie saves it from being a complete and total waste.
“Whoa…my Mary Janes. Whoa…my Mary Janes. Whoa…my Mary Janes.”
Then things took an interesting turn. Fergie sang her cover of Hearts “Barracuda” from the Shrek 3 Soundtrack. WHOA! The crowd was lost. Totally lost. Then the most unexpected thing I have ever seen at a concert happened. Fergie geared up and launched into a series of 4 one handed cartwheels while singing. Yes, you read that correctly. 4 one handed cartwheels while singing. To her credit it was kinda cool and the crowd did go berserk over it. The Church of Fergie was back in session. But, she lost everyone on her scat version of “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse. Here is Fergie’s version: “they tried to make me go to rehab, I said no, no, scootlie bee bob, eh, eh, bah, bah, baw, scootlie, no.” One could almost hear Amy’s screams from rehab. “Fergie did what? Awwww…hell no! I’m gonna cut her hardcore.”
Then for the encore she sang “Glamorous”. Now, that song is the whole reason I wanted to go in the first place. It’s such an odd song, but it’s catchy as hell. Had she sung it earlier in the show we probably would have left. But, she knew she needed to keep it for the encore and it ultimately kept me in my seat.
There it is. My own little review is a lot kinder than any of the critics have been. It was bad. B – A – D.
But, at least we have Fergie who is out in the world making a difference in her own small way. Thank God for Fergie and her helping America’s youth learn how to spell one song at a time.
If you ain't got no money
take yo'broke ass home
If you ain't got no money
take yo'broke ass home
G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S,
yeah G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S
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