So, since my last update I have seen my Beloved Duran Duran again. 3 years after the last concert. Those boys have GOT to hit the T Dot more often.
Simon may no
t be a pretty blonde young thang anymore, he has aged gracefully. Look at him; all bearded yummy scruff (our kids would have blue eyes), in fact it was Simon's 53rd birthday last night (October 27, 2011) and he got to spend it at the ACC, alone, with me....um, ok alone with me and 6,000 other screaming idjits who sang him Happy Birthday off key, and whoo-hoo-ed and shrieked, and got all hot and bothered and 16 again, and felt, for SURE that tonight, toNIGHT he was going to pick me, of course he was going to pick me. He likes boobs; I gots boobs, he's got a great sense of humour; I've got a great sense of humour, he's clever; I'M clev...well, I can appreciate clever....alas, no...He did not pick me. He never picks me. 27 years I've been trying to get him or Roger to pick me, 27 years they've denied me....However he did pick two skinny, (I'm a lot of things, but skinny I ain't) lucky ladies to climb up on stage and 'introduce' him after he had 'introduced' the rest of the band (playyourfuckingbassJohn). He hugged them. Beyotches. They didn't even give him a good introduction. They didn't even tell him that he was their fucking daddy...I would have.But I digress. The concert, of course, kicked ass. They always kick ass. They know how to bring it; they've always known how to bring it. Simon's pipes are pure and true, he didn't even falter near the end. Not even after he shoved his own head into his birthday cake (it'sreallyfuckingtasty,actually) and got a nose full of icing (therealshroud), he manages, they ALL manage, to make a full ACC feel like a living room, like they are talking to, playing to, flirting with YOU and only you. Roger pounded the skins as if he was half the age he is; mellowed, aged, beautifully, like brandy. John playedhisfuckingbass like it was on fuckingfire; joking, playing with the audience, coming on to 6,000 people. And Nick? He posed, and pouted, his hair and make up perfect, fingers skimming his keyboard like he was stroking a child's cheek...too poetic? Apologies.
No poetry.
Wild Boys.
Still.
Hot, strutting, sexy as hell.
Mature....but not boring. Never boring. Silly; joking; flirty; intimate; animal; dirty thoughts ("America is beautiful, but visiting Canada is like fucking your naughty mistress" paraphrase, but close enough. I think even the men in the room wanted to be his Naughty Mistress...I know I did....)
I obsess easily. Obsessing about Simon is fun. Naughty. Dirty. A little perverted...Just a little....Just imagine that voice whispering obscenities; telling you what he likes; telling you how he likes it; and cracking a few jokes in between.....
ok. Now I feel like I'm about 14....And I am not embarrassed to tell you that I am embarrassed by what I've confessed to the world (or the two people who used to read my blog but don't anymore since I haven't blogged in almost 2 facking years!!) hmmmm....maybe I need to stop living in my head and start living? Nah, what's in my head is more fun than what's out there ;) (I've misplaced my future, could I please borrow yours?)
Ok. Enough D2....Onto another D. Donny. SX Geminis Adonis. My beautiful horse.
He is 22 now. I've had him 21 years. Would you think, from this picture (thank you Mariah! www.bunchwelunchwith.com) that this boyo was 22 years old? 23 next April 13?
LOOK at him
. Pure beauty. Pure love. Pure. He is not well. He has a torn muscle in his off hind. Somewhere in the hamstring. He is walking peg-legged on the leg. We are trying to re-hab him back to better then 50% if we can. He can't be a lawn ornament. That would kill him. I am thankful that this has happened closer to retirement age, it would have been more heartbreaking had it happened when he was 10...but will his aging muscles heal as well, as quickly, as solidly as they may have when he was younger? I have faith in the old boy. I have faith that he WILL recover well.The vet thinks he must have slipped, just a little, going down a hill...and presto chango....
Tomorrow we have a Treasure Hunt on Horseback at the barn. Donny will not be taking part. This will make him sad. He LOVES games...LIVES for games....I have been voted a Team Captain....How can I Captain anything without my right-hand horse? HE is why I am so good, HE is why we win....not me, I'm just...well, I'm just me without my boy. I am riding a gray named Mickey. I have never ridden Mickey.....I am not sure how this is going to go. I want to win. I ALWAYS want to win on horseback....but will I want to....can I want to, without him?
It will be interesting....I will keep you posted....Honest. I will try to remember to blog tomorrow and let y'all know how it goes....
Now, to sleep, perchance to dream of Simon and I walking through a field with D......;)
Till tomorrow...honest....
In harmony
IrishRed
