Monday, October 25, 2010

Ahhhh Garth

Garth at Wynn, Las Vegas

When I walked in the theatre the stage was set with a lone guitar, a wooden stool and a bottle of water.  I sensed this was going to be a ‘stripped’ down version of Garth and I got all nervous and sweaty, oops not that kind of stripped down, phew.  This appeared that it was going to be a ‘barer’ version, oh my, okay no you get the idea, this wasn’t going to be a production, concert event, this was just going to be ‘Garth’ as the sign said.
Took my seat, centre, row 14, waited patiently for the ‘hats and boots’ crowd to saunter in, after all this was rodeo weekend in LV.  Once all were present and accounted for, there were only two ‘hats’ in the crowd, and not many ‘boots’.  One of the hats was worn by a young boy sitting in the row behind me (more on him later).  Finally on the dot of 8pm, Garth strolled on stage, sans boots, sans cowboy hat, sans ill-fitting wranglers, no no not that ‘stripped’ down thing again, just not the cowboy Garth of days past.  Momentarily wondered who this guy was...dressed in levi’s (501’s I think), regular casual guy type walking shoes (looked a bit like Doc’s), black cotton button up shirt with a tshirt underneath, and a black ball cap.  Looking mighty fine, not Chris Gaines thin, but not chunky 80’s Garth either, just a nice happy medium.
He was very relaxed, looking a bit like the cat who swallowed the canary, very happy with his gig at the Wynn, talked about his arrangement set up with Steve Wynn and his ability to fly in Fridays and out Saturdays to be home with his family.  Of course, this was not news to me, uberfan.
Then he picked up his guitar and set about giving us what we paid for.  Not a concert but quality time WITH Garth.  He talked mostly about his musical influences, his Dad, his Mom his family (he too is the youngest of six kids, we have soooo much in common and yet I’m not a country star, go figure). He talked about George Jones, Merle Haggard, Ricky Skaggs, James Taylor, Bob Segar to name a few. Interspersed with the chat he’d strum his guitar play a few lines of one of their songs, maybe a few verses of one of his. I was leaned forward on my chair, mesmerized, so interesting, fun and engaging.  Others seemed just as enthralled aside from some yahoo behind me who loudly remarked, ‘wonder if he’s actually going to sing any of his own songs?’ to which someone else replied, ‘yeah no kidding’.  Made me want to shush them but that would mean taking my attention away from HIM.
His wife Trisha Yearwood came out and sang with him a bit.  She’s kind of like the good witch to Faith Hill’s bad witch.  Dressed in jeans, Uggs, and long sleeved grey tshirt, she too seemed happy and very comfortable, they laughed, had a kiss (clearly he HAS to tolerate this, it must be in the contract). Sang a verse or two of song that someone requested from the audience.  She exited stage right, he carried on. He talked about being Mr. Yearwood and how the one with the most grammys in house is the boss.  She has the most Grammys. I have no Grammy’s Garth, just sayin’.
During ‘friends in low places’ some people got up, including the cowboy hat boy behind me, went down to the stage.  He was carrying a sharpie and a piece of paper and his hat, having some difficulty walking, he was disabled.  Security tried to move him back from the stage but as the song ended, Garth saw him, cued the lights to come up and started to chat with him.  They boy wanted his hat signed, long story short, Garth refused saying he didn’t want to ruin his hat and instead unstrapped his guitar, signed it and gave it to the boy.  Ahhhhhh Garth....then the boy said, ‘can I see Trisha?’  she came out gave him a kiss and a photo op for everyone.
Boy requested Garth sing ‘Shameless’, probably the best moment of the night, his voice was fantastic but he did point out that he never actually played guitar on that song so it was more of an acapella verson.  Boy returned to his seat, concert/Garthapalooza went on.  He talked about places he’d been and favourite concerts he’d played.  He put the lights up on a few occasions to have conversations with audience members, told stories about writing songs, talked about taking a year off in the nineties (said it was the dumbest thing he’d done because he was bored and didn’t have anything to do). Talked about growing up, standing on the front seat as his Mom drove him to school, talked a little about his career and how it progressed.
Told stories about meeting his idols and being so nervous and overcome. Sang more talked more...was in the midst of one of his louder songs when a woman four rows behind me shrieks, ‘oh my God this guy just barfed on my head! Seriously!! Someone do something’.  Again, I felt a ‘shushing’ was in order but could not afford to divert my focus, poor woman...she and her husband got up and and left and then the sheepish barfer was escorted out.  Thankfully Garth was not distracted.
Finally two hours later it was over, he said goodbye, came back for an encore, sang Billy Joel’s ‘Piano Man’ and everyone sang along, song ended, he left, lights came on and it was over.  Amen Garth.

Monday, September 6, 2010

LASHTASTIC at last!

If you read my other post, you know I had a less than lashirific experience at the 'tranquility' spa when I had my first ever lash extension experience.  I got them on a Tuesday, that night two came out, or really I had to pull them out because it felt like they were pulling or tearing at my skin.  In retrospect I think it was possibly some ill-placed glue.  I managed to keep them on through Wednesday, Thursday and Friday...really I lasted that long? Hard to believe.  By Friday night, I was pulling them off and soothing my pain with my good friend Mr. Smirnoff Ice.

By Sunday I'd decided that i missed them and wanted them back, well, not THEM, but some new friendly lush soft and luscious lashes.  I did some more research, went back to check out the Lash Noir site that had initially been recommended to me.  Their website says that they only do lashes and therefore I concluded that they must be expert lashestheticians.  Their website had tons of info, lots of pictures and various lash styles to select from.

I made my appointment, went to the Yaletown location on my, extended, lunch break.  Being new in my job and not wanting to over extend time away from my desk, I opted to run/walk there and back.  Four days later and still I feel a muscle strain/sprain in my left shin but really, that is not too high a price to pay for potential lashopulence now is it?

so...I arrive at the salon, stealing myself for an hour of being berated for twitching and flinching.  Setting was very different, several girls were waiting, while three others where laying on couch/loveseat type beds with lots of cushions, shoes off head back on pillow being lashified.  My appt was for 12:15, and it did start at 12:15, much to my surprise, no one was on the phone booking vacations and ignorning me.  Quelle suprise.  I settled in on the couch, and the lashlady walked me through the procedure, asked what look I was trying to acheive.  I avoided spider references and asked for a fuller look but not overly long.  She delicately applied powder and tape on my lower lashes and put on a sample lash for me to determine if the length was suitable.  The professionalism through me off a bit...at the other place when i enquired about lengths I was told 'i just put on the longest that's what EVERYONE wants'.

I was so relaxed and felt no pain, I did manage to fall asleep only to be awoken by my own choking and panic...where am i? why are my eyes taped shut? eeeek!  I managed to stifle my panic but was unable to contain my choking.  The lash lady didn't panic, I suspect this is not her first walk down lash lane, she merely offered me water and enquired as to my well being.  Not to upset her, I calmed myself down all the while trying not to flinch or twitch my eyelids.

Finally we were done, exactly 1hr and 15min later as she'd predicted, I paid, then sprinted back to work uphill in my heeled sandals, embracing both my new lashes and my coming shinsplints.

The results with the lashes, simply lashtastic, no pain no burn...nice shiny black lashes...three days later i'm still loving them but have lost a few, so far not to noticable but it does take some time to get out of the habit of rubbing my eyes, and trying not to squish (smooshing was the wording used on the instruction sheet, yes, they even gave me an instruction sheet) my eye into my pillow when I sleep.   Probably if I could just sleep at Lash Noir this wouldn't have been an issue...

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Paying for eyelash torture

After buying 11 mascaras and planning to do a mascexperiment, I paused and did some further research (no, I didn't keep the receipt).  After consulting the fashionable ones in my circle of friends, relatives and acquaintances, I decided to try eyelash extensions.  A particular salon was recommended to me, but rather than wait til they had an appointment time available, I took matters into my own hands/lashes and found a spa near to home.  It had a good spa-sounding name...even used the word 'tranquility' in the title, that should have been a clue.

My appointment was at 5, my usual 40min drive to Delta was anything but tranquil and took 90min today.  An earlier accident on the bridge was causing huge traffic delays and I barely made it to the spa on time, but I did.  My pet, I mean my friend Harpreet met me there, her job was as self-appointed quality control consultant.

I sat in the waiting area while the savage, I mean while the 'technician' was busy on the telephone.  And busy she was, talking to her travel agent about an upcoming trip and how many days she'd like to spend in Hong Kong while enroute to India.  Oh they laughed, they talked, they discussed possible dates and the merits of more time in Hong Kong.  My tranquility wavered.  I sat less than three feet away from her but basically I myself could have been in Hong Kong.  She didn't look up once.  Finally at 5:20, she finished her call and we went in.  My pet was given a chair and settled in to observe.

We asked lots of questions and got lots of vague answers.  Then the lashinatrix started her torture.  First she tried to apply tape to my eyeballs and when I flinched she said, 'are you even going to be able to HANDLE this at ALL?', I ceased my flinching and wondered how difficult it would be to learn braille.  She adjusted the tape slightly and then started on the torture.  In between the torture she berated me for flinching, 'STOP FLINCHING and STOP TWITCHING', 'If you KEEP TWITCHING it makes it all the more difficult for ME'...she went on to tell us that she had a sore neck and didn't like to do more than two eyelash sessions per day, I was her second and she didn't seem too pleased.  She couldn't tell me how many lashes she'd be putting in, how long they'd last, other than to mention that NO ONE got 'fills', everyone just marched back in and got a new full set.

The tugging and the twitching and the cramping and the flinching continued until I was ready to beg for mercy.  I actually lay there fantasizing about an armed robbery, they'd storm in and she'd run for the cash drawer and I'd loop my coach bag around my pet's neck and she'd lead me to safety in a heartbeat.  At one point the door did chime and I perked up only to be sternly told to 'STOP MOVING'. 

Alas, finally we were done, she ripped the tape off, pryed my eyes open and thrust a magnifying mirror in front of me.  Not exactly the look I was imagining...I was picturing lush full lashes and instead I have delicate thin, albeit long, lashes, reminiscient of an aneroxic spider.  And not just lashes, I also left with little blobs of glue on my eyelids, my forehead, my eyebrows.  Surprised I wasn't charged extra for the dalmation spots. 

Friday, August 20, 2010

Our first entry....

Me and Tigs! We're here on our first official blog.

Difficult to decide what we're going to write or when we're going to write or what category we're going to fall under.  I suppose it's not 'we' it's 'me' until 'and Tigs' learns how to type.  I think occasionally I may type on his behalf, after all, it wouldn't be the first time and he does need to express himself.

Tonight I'm channeling my inner independent woman and going to the Michael Buble concert on my own.  This will be a first, I think.  Thanks to Moniera for giving me the single ticket...maybe she wants to see how I'll fair without an entourage, a manatee (I suspect this blog may need a glossary, note to self), a maltass or a man.

Speaking of the Maltass, that's him, Tigs.  Small large-earred dog of mixed breed being held in the photo, official name Tigger Bob Ritchie Peel Parker Bath Sudsington.  Mostly we just call him Tigs, Tigsy or Tigger.  My four-legged companion for almost three years now.  Presently sitting at my feet, awaiting his early evening walk.

Single for the weekend, I like to live the stereotype and had nachos for dinner, light sour cream makes it okay, right?  Any day now I'll get back on that diet, really, any day now.

Update - midnight.  Home from the concert.  Super fantastico.  Lessons learned, don't bother arriving early and if you do, best to have your phone full charged.  Was pleased to see that I was wearing the appropriate Buble concertgoer attire, ruffly type tank top, faded jeans...lost a few points with the old lady cardigan and the sensible sandals. 

Tommorrow my support of male Canadian musicians continues with a trip down memory lane, Bryan Adams at the PNE, this time I'm taking my pet manatee with me :)