Leave it to Loretta...

So what is that hat on top of the Top? You know sunglasses, leather jacket, beard, beanie?  What is that on top of the Top?  My curiosity was peaked when I found out that I would have the chance to see Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top fame at the Musicians Hall of Fame and Museum’s Annual Induction Show.  I googled, I stalked webpages and I found so many different stories about that hat.  I read that  it was a peace offering from an African priest, a gift from a  fan, even that it was the creation of  a lady knitting beanies at a mall kiosk.  Well one of the good fortunes of doing some work for a museum, especially one devoted to music, is you can learn the history or let’s call it the back story of past events.  Enter Loretta Harper, daughter of famed artist Betty Harper, Nashville girl, movie costumer, stylist, designer, master of anything creative, including Billy Gibbon’s hat.  In 1997 Houston, TX,  Billy Gibbons fresh off his Continental Safari tour with ZZ Top  showed Loretta Harper, girl who knew where to buy the best Rock clothes and jeans in Nashville, his African hat.  “Honey, don’t put that hat on your head! It’s too ancient! You will catch a disease!” was Loretta’s very southern opinion of his hat. It seems it was ancient, circa 1600’s made with matted horse hair dreads.  Loretta told Billy she would make him a new one just like it.  So doing what she does best, she found just the right material, made the perfect dye bath, and hand sewed each little 1 and a half inch dread onto a wig cap.  300 hours later the Top had his new top.  Loretta has often wondered if Billy was still wearing the actual hat that she made.  This year in Nashville she ran into Billy and sure enough it was still her hat.

The table next to you...

So you are looking forward to a date night, just you and your beloved , a quaint dinner for two. Why is it when this scenario actually plays out in your mind you forget about the table next to you? You know the unruly 5 year old that should know better, the ladies night out girls on their second martini and one has that voice that carries. But are you ever prepared for overhearing the young girl asking her date “when have I seen you last” and his reply is “well I have been in jail”. What? Did I just overhear that right? Did my husband hear it? I know that’s what I heard and yes he confirmed it. So now I am sitting next to a criminal and am hanging on to every word. When did jail become so normal? His date didn’t miss a beat. “ Oh, did I know that, please pass the salt.” “isn’t this fish delicious?” As I am planning an escape route for her in my mind, she is inquiring if the wine is chilled. Maybe I am judging, maybe he is a nice former jail patron but in my mind some things should be discussed over the phone and not over seafood.

how did I miss this?

I am shaking my head wondering, “ how did I miss this?” First of all, I am a huge American Idol fan. There is just something about that show that brings the critic out of me. I love to see the transformation of the “wanna be” sensation from their first audition to the stage. This often includes a head to toe makeover. It starts with Hollywood week and that’s when I first noticed it. There it was, not one or two but three tutu styled short dresses with so many layers of toile under the skirt it fluffs out like a mushroom. Huh? The only accessory needed for this dress is a stage mom, and the little girl that just stands while the others twirl. I have always considered myself fashion forward. I cut my Uggs in half way before they came out with the mini so I just don’t understand where I have been. I do know that the dress should come with instructions for sitting, do you tuck all that stuff under or let it just sit beside you? Ok, maybe that’s where I’ve been ignoring the trends and living in my practical no manual needed jeans.

Whoops....

Typeos, oh, I’m sorry, typos. I hate them. Why is it they always seem to happen? I remember picking my son up from his Student Government duties at his middle school impressed by the fact his job was to change the signage in front of the school. As we were leaving I proudly took a glance at his work. There it was Congradulations! Teacher of the Year! on display for the rush hour traffic.
It happens to us all. You write an email, push the send button, reread it and of course after its too late, cringe at the message. Texting is another playing field for typos. Its funny my big thumb, or my fat fingers are always to blame, not my failing eyesight!
Truth is, in this world of technology that’s in fifth gear our brains are sometimes stuck in neutral. So proofread, proofread and proofread again.

butt injection?

Death by a lethal butt injection? I am thinking what seemingly was a great idea at the time somehow got jaded. Maybe it was the wine, watching J Lo on Idol or just a new pair of jeggings that made 4 Brits fly from England to Philly to get silicone injections in their derrieres and besides they had done it before. Upon pulling up to the Hampton Inn I guess two of the four thought better of a fatback and changed their minds. That proved to be a good decision. After being injected with what police call an unknown substance sadly a twenty- year- old aspiring British actress died hours later. I am now finding out that this is becoming very popular. Talk about being behind the times, I am still learning how to manipulate my flat iron to its full potential. So for me, to get that ”baby’s got back” kind of butt , I’m going the safe route and taking a carb with me on my walk with my shape-ups.

thank you Steven Tyler!

“#*$@ a duck and see what hatches”, thank you Steven Tyler! Just when I thought the new season of American Idol would be nothing without Simon along comes Steven and “I don’t want to miss a thing”. Not only is he a poster child for just the right amount of nip and tuck, his authenticity as an American rocker, keeps me tuning in. He seems to have such a compassion for music and the wanna be singers that deliver it and he’s really funny. So Steven Tyler, don’t apologize to America, cause we are “crazy” for you!

Information highway...

Username, password, huh? I just want to make a comment. I just want to buy those too cute mini Uggs. Why must I log-in or sign-up. Isn’t it suspicious? What do you do with my information on the Information Highway? Certainly my particulars resembles one of those triangular road construction signs blown over by the wind or slippery when wet notices. Why is my email address so important that I must navigate my way through your instructions only to receive that RED, STOP sign of an exclamation point warning me of my infraction? Just so you can sell me insurance to cover my identity theft in case of an accident! I thought I65 south through Williamson County during the five o’clock rush hour was bad. Now I need online support or an opinion forum just to order my shoes. I know your policy is not to share my junk, but it sure makes me feel like I’m riding alone in the HOV lane.