Here's my group:
Me on drums. Yes, I know this is hugely hilarious, as I have a severe case of Republican Rhythm (just my mojo -- the rest of me is all Democrat), but this is a fantasy, remember? I can be whatever I want and so I am damn good on the drums.
My friend Che is on lead guitar and vocals, because she's definitely cool, even in real life. Oh yeah, and she's got a couple of tattoos.
My friend Melissa is going to be on bass, because she's so very incredibly cool too. And damn if she doesn't have a most excellent tattoo too.
We probably should have a keyboard for some of our groovier sounds. I'm going to check with my friend Nina to see if she wants in on the action. If not, I'll recruit Nick Rhodes from Duran Duran. He wears so much make-up and gets his roots done so often that he could be a girl, so we're still an all girl band, just one of us will happen to have kibbles and bits.
I've put my mother and aunt, affectionately known as Grandma Ass and Crazy Aunt Laura, on backing vocals and Motown Moves. They'll probably try to steal the limelight from the rest of us but we'll keep a close eye on them. We'll call them the Bail Babes, because I'm certain they'll often be in trouble when we're on the road and I'll have to keep plenty of bail money in my purse. (I'll explain the Grandma Ass thing in another entry. It's not as bad as it sounds.)
Our menfolk will be our roadies. They'll haul our stuff for us, fix our broken electrical thingies, and bring us cold drinks -- daquiris for everyone, except Melissa, who's pregnant and gets to have Shirley Temples as her libation. The roadies will also rub our feet when we're tired and scratch our backs in that spot where you just can't reach.
We'll have groupies too, of course. I'm pretty sure they'll include George Clooney, Brad Pitt (because he's definitely gonna break up with that humorless Angelina person), Orlando Bloom, and Colin Firth. Che must have Jack Black and Liev Schrieber. There will be other hot men, but I need to poll the ladies to find out who they want to honor with special invitations. Tom Cruise is not worthy of loving us because he's just a freak who steals women's spirits. Well, he's just a freak. Period.
Our play list is going to be just awesome.
1. "RESPECT" by Aretha -- This will be our theme song and we'll probably have to play it at least twice during each show.
2. Pretty much all the rest of Aretha's work -- We might actually have to have an altar to Aretha in our dressing room. It will be next to the chocolate vending machine.
3. "Call Me" by Blondie, plus some of her other stuff.
4. All of Gladys Knight's works.
5. "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse
6. "Material Girl" and "Vogue" by Madonna, but that's about it for Madonna because she's such a snooty pain in the ass
7. "Let's Get This Party Started" by Pink
8. "Hollaback Girl" by Gwen Stefani -- Precisely because it's so annoying, plus we'll get to say "shit" 40 times. (I counted.)
9. "Southern Cross" by Crosby Stills & Nash
10. A whole buncha songs by the Rolling Stones, including "B-I-T-C-H".
11. "Gimme Some Lovin' " by Stevie Winwood
12. "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye and maybe also some of his other stuff.
13. "Giving Food for Funk" by James Brown
14. A whole bunch of Pat Benatar songs, such as "Love is a Battlefield."
15. "When a Man Loves a Woman" -- The original, not that newer crap by Michael "I suck and I'm ugly" Bolton.
16. Definitely no Spice Girls.
17. "Wild Boys" and "Girls on Film" by Duran Duran, which is why we need Nick on keyboards.
18. "Dancing Queen" by ABBA -- Che might object to this one but I'll bring her over to the Dark Side one day, plus we have Pink to balance things out.
19. "Would I Lie to You" and "I Need a Man" by the Eurythmics
20. "Crazy" by Gnarls Barkley and also the one by Seal
21. "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince
23. "Evil Ways" by Santana, because the percussion is so fierce.
24. "She Bop" by Cyndi Lauper, because I really like the subversive message.
Since this is all fantasy, we're going to have the bodies we've always wanted, which means most of us will be a size 6, with perky boobs and firm butts. CAL is actually already quite teeny in real life, so I'm not sure what kind of body she might want. Stretch marks and cellulite are of course forbidden. We'll be able to eat whatever we want and whenever we want and we'll be on the No Carb Left Behind diet plan. Oh, and we won't have zits, wrinkles, or grey hairs. In fact, our hair will be thick and luxurious and whatever color we want it to be. Our knees and other joints won't hurt either and we'll never have back aches.
Our wardrobe will be of the High Diva style, with great shoes and accessories. I believe at least two of us will be partial to animal prints. No fur will be allowed, unless it comes from a real Faux, shot in the wild, and is a glorious color such as purple or electric blue.
Che wants to wear thigh high black shiny boots, a short leather skirt, and a black leather bustier. She also wants a blue mohawk, just like she used to have. (Really -- yet she's now a church-going mother of three).
Melissa wants to wear, and I quote: "an emerald green strapless satin floor length gown with an appropriate slit for walking... big blonde Texas beauty pageant hair... full length gloves and of course fabulous Christian Leboutin shoes. " She will occasionally tease her hair into a bouffant.
I'm going to be the casual band member: jeans that make my butt look great, some sort of great T-shirt with a saying on the front (like 01.20.09), and Converse high top sneakers in a color such as hot pink. When I want to dress up, I'll wear a tiara.
The Bail Babes can pick what they want to wear, but they are definitely going to accessorize with tiaras and feather boas because they are babes and they are fabulous.
No one is allowed to dress like Britney Spears or Lindsay Lohan, which means that each of our personal roadies will be responsible for checking us for a full set of undergarments before each concert.
We will of course be cool and fabulous and everyone will want to be like us. We'll be offered Big Money to quit our day jobs and tour internationally, but of course we'd never actually do it. There's way too much glamour in PTO meetings and science fair projects to even consider changing our lives. We'll just put on the occasional concert when it suits our moods and we're not PMS-ing. Oh wait, this is all fantasy, so we don't PMS. Ever.
Since the Bail Babes don't have young'uns at home, they 'll plan a solo side project. They'll have their own Vegas act, with lots of buff dancing men and a laser light show. Once the Babes are finishing sowing their oats, they'll come on back to us and be our backup singers/dancers again.
We'll be so great that U2 will open for us and Bono will beg to know the secret to our greatness. We'll never tell him, of course, because it would crush his very soul to know that we are fantabulous because we are women and therefore he will never be quite able to achieve what we have. But, we might consider making him a groupie if he starts doing some sit-ups and deals with that beer gut. After all, the dude is one of the coolest humans on the entire planet so he should be part of our posse.
The tickets for our fantasy concerts will be reasonably priced so no one will have to mortgage the house or eat Ramen noodles in order to see us in action. The profits will be used to do good, such as funding Head Start programs, food banks, and homeless shelters. We'll be so great that we'll wield the same amazing levels of power and influence that celebrities all over the world have. We'll take advantage of this and use our influence for worldwide good. We'll definitely end the war in Iraq, find Osama bin Laden, and end all poverty and strife on the entire African continent. The world will become a peaceful place where everyone lives in harmony, listens to great music, and eats from all four major food groups (sweet, salty, fried, and au gratin).
So I was telling Pete all about my plans for this fantasy rock band and how it was like the chick version of fantasy football league. I assumed that he would totally get it. Instead, he looked at me and asked, "How do you earn points?" I said that there are no points. He asked, "Then what's the point if you don't earn points?" He just didn't get it.
And that, ladies is the perfect illustration of the differences between men and women. It's okay for them to fantasize about the perfect football team but they don't understand our perfect rock band.
That's okay. Half the time we don't understand them either.