My first boyfriend Paul (from the late 80s) adored her. He continually played her music. He had an autographed photo in his room. He lovingly referred to her as “The Tramp”. Whenever I hear “La Isla Bonita” I still think of Paul. This is probably why I don’t listen to Madonna that much.
I remember a couple of queens at a party coming near to violence whether Patti LaPone or Madonna had the better recording of “Evita”. I forget ‘who won”. It was rather entertaining hearing the logic of their arguments.
“Material Girl” is a jolly tune. I have it on my ‘gym” playlist for the half hour on the elliptical machine. I’ve learned not to squeal and shout along, for it evokes odd looks.
Last month a nephew vented on Facebook about Madonna being the half-time entertainment. He complained about this ‘old people’ type of entertainment. He added the barb ‘it is so gay”. Someone and I confronted him on this crack. He back-peddled and explained, well, you know what I mean (no, we didn’t). While were lecturing him severely, FB friends were posting ‘Ooh! Isn’t this the gayest thing?”
This week we learned Her Majesty Madonna is coming to Phoenix in October. I announced a fancy to get tickets. Someone was flabbergasted as if I had announced a desire to join the Moonies. I guess it would a good for supper invite. “Did you know we have tickets to see Madonna?”, that sort of thing. If we go – a big if – I want a ticket way in the back, with the other aged queens. I will bring along a pointy bra and my ear plugs.