Neil Diamond wasn't cool or relevant when my mother drug me to one of his concerts in 1985. And he was old 23 years ago so I don't know what that makes him now...a mummy?
That concert was one of many traumatic childhood experiences inflicted upon me by mother. Seared in my brain is the memory of Mother and her best friend turning into adolescent nut jobs when Neil crooned, "I am...I Said." I know they had no idea what those lyrics meant (because who does), but that didn't stop them from screaming and gyrating with a fist pump in the air each time he sang "I Am!" One more round of "Forever in Blue Jeans" and they'd have peeled off their granny panties, twirled them in the air, and tossed them on stage.
I believe it was during "Sweet Caroline" that I realized any dreams of me being cool were dead in the water. Sitting there with my mother's butt knocking into my head (remember, she was up gyrating) I wondered how I'd wound up at a concert with some grody to the max old dude, wearing a sparkly blouse open in the front down to the navel, with his sparkly grey chest hair peaking out.
When the laser show started I found myself looking up at a neon green eagle soaring over the audience wondering, is this hell? My Mom leaned down and yelled in my ear, "Look, Mis, do you see the eagle?!"
How could I miss it? "Yes."
She continued to insist on my participation. "Isn't that cool?!"
"Please don't say cool".
She maturely said, "Every party needs a poop and that's why we invited you...party pooper." or something equally stupid...it's been 23 years.
As my mom threw her hands in the air, closed her eyes, and started singing along to "Turn on Your Heart Light" (yes, the E.T. song)I knew I'd have to kill myself.
I had similar thoughts of suicide watching the final five contestants on A.I. struggling through Neil Diamond tunes. Oh. Dear. God. The first set of songs (that's right, they sang two Diamond Diddies) were bland to horrible. I love me some Brooke, but she murdered and left for dead "I'm A Believer" and my dread locked love, Jason Castro, stunk it up pretty good, too. The rest were just o.k.
The second songs were less putrid, but still made me want to gauge my eyes out with the sharp point of a barbie doll foot.
However, I gotta hand it to Neil, he looked pretty good for a mummy. I'm pretty sure he has a portrait of himself hanging in his attic that shows his decayed self as it should be had he not made a deal with the devil.
Oh, and Paula please stop shooting up before the show. You look good but sound crazy as hell.
And why was that hack Ryan palming that kid's head? God only knows where his hands have been. Last night I think he got into Paula's stash.
My prediction is that we say good-bye to Syesha even though it should probably be JC.
Tonight I will have Neil Diamond nightmares.....something like I'm the jazz singer and my mom is wearing the open front sparkly blouse. Vomit. Then the laser eagle attacks me. Vomit. Vomit.