Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Duran Duran and Mark Ronson 2.0

Today ...or yesterday depending on where in the world you are, Duran Duran were in Wroclaw, Poland for the first date in their European leg of the seemingly never ending All You Need is Now tour. Perhaps it should be renamed to All you STILL Need is Now Tour. Don't get me wrong, I'll miss the guys something awful once they're off the tour circuit. I think this new connection via Twitter has been an amazing extension of them reaching out to the fans and us to them. So we'll all want to be wanting to know what they're up to and what not. So here's hoping they still Tweet (*cough* John *cough*) once they're off the road and back to some sense of "normal life"...whatever that is.

However, today during a publicity gig Nick announced (At approximately the 13:40 mark) that they would be going back to writing in February of next year and likely by summer they'd be collaborating once again with Mark Ronson who produced the amazing album "All You Need is Now". I think MOST Duranies assumed that they'd collaborate again with Mark, or perhaps hoped is more the word. They truly produced such a wonderful body of work with this last album that it comes as fantastic news that Mark is looking to work with them again. Truthfully, the only other name that came to my mind as far as producer went was Nile Rodgers.

I think we're all hoping lightening strikes twice with the next album, but with such amazing talents as what they possess with or without Mark, they've gotten themselves this far on their own merits, Mark just adds to that. And for that we're grateful.

So with baited breath we wait to capture lightning in a bottle...again. And we'll be ready. And so will they.

One Last Glimpse,


Thursday, 21 June 2012

It's just hair...

I know some women have this unbelievable attachment to their hair. For some, it's their calling card, and I used to be exactly the same way, so I get it. When my Mom got cancer and had her chemo/radiation she lost a considerable amount of it. She never went completely bald, but was very very thin by the end of her life. Since then, I've decided it's just hair. It's not like it's the end of the world if one day I decide to shave my head bald; not that I ever would; but it would be okay...because eventually...it would grow back.

I have (in the past) gone from near waist length hair to having it cut short into a shaved up the back of my head bob haircut. In fact, the last time I did that...the girl asked me if I had been drinking which I thought was hysterical. Apparently, she'd had a woman come in had all her hair cut off completely high or shitfaced...only to come back the following day, ranting and raving that this woman had cut all her hair off.

The last few weeks have been progressively hotter, and I'm a big girl. And I had very long hair. Very. Long. Hair. I've always had thick hair too, so it was hot. I can't sleep well with it put up in a braid or in a bun or anything like that so that's not an option for me every night either. And since I'm not the Cleavers and my husband and I DO sleep in the same bed...him rolling over on it and about yanking it out of my head was frequent.

I've been wanting to go get my hair cut for the last month or so, I wanted to go see a friend of mine's cousin as she did a totally brilliant job last time with it. However, last night I decided enough was enough. My darling hubby rolled over on my hair FOUR times in a six hour span while sleeping. Practically ripping my hair out by the root each time, sending me into a silent wide eyed scream in pain while trying gingerly to pull it out from under his arm. I knew it was unintentional, and I didn't want to wake him and make him feel badly for what he'd done.

When I got up this morning I decided I was going to go get my hair cut. After a brief prayer to the hair gods that someone would not fuck up my hair, my sister in law and I went and had it done. It's probably slightly shorter than I thought it would be...but I think it's cute none the less.

I'm not done with it yet. I want to put some darker blue in it...perhaps next week sometime when I have a little more time I'll get that done, but for now it remains "a work in progress".

One Last Glimpse,


Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Birthday Wishes for an Inspiring Man.

It's funny now that I'm really writing this blog as well as other things, I feel like I've improved my skills as writer tenfold. Perhaps my editor would disagree, however I suspect she'd be in agreement with me. If she's not...she can keep that to herself and does not need to burst my bubble. (LOL! I <3 you!) I've written this blog entry four times now because I want it to be special, perfect and exactly what I want to say. I've decided that it may be this time next year before I get that sussed out, so I figure it best to just go with what I've got. So here it is. 

Growing up in the 80's was a wonderful time. I know everyone says that, but honestly...I loved it. The music was good, times were fun. We didn't all want to slash our wrists and we certainly didn't have this sense of entitlement that kids today seem to have today which I've never understood.

When I was 12, I was introduced to Duran's music in an unlikely place. I was on a weekend getaway with my sister and mother in some dingy "no tell" Motel in Michigan. We were playing cards one evening with some random cable channel on in the background. My Mom was growing frustrated as I kept watching the television and was being distracted from playing cards. My Mother (rightfully so) switched places with me and had me sitting with my back to the television. A small video show came on and "Girls on Film" began playing and I was mesmerized. The music had me from the get go, even before I could see the video.

From that moment, I was hooked. I went out and bought as many Duran albums as I could get my hands on (which at the time, in Canada was limited until 'Rio' broke). My world changed very quickly...very fast. I changed as a person. I started to grow up and become more of the person I am today. And much to my Mother's chagrin...posters of Duran Duran and John Taylor went up on my walls...EVERYWHERE. If I could have reached my ceiling they would have been there too. Although my Mom drew the line at them being on the front of my bedroom door as she felt like she was being watched and it creeped her out. Fair enough.

I've always been drawn in particular to John Taylor the bassist for Duran Duran. At first I'll admit, it was his looks. The man; in my opinion; was and is striking after all. But something about his personality struck a chord with me. I'm not sure what it was. Perhaps his playfulness and his ability to be a nerd at the same time while being strikingly sexy. In any case it was more than just about his looks, he was my reason to pick up the bass.

John Taylor on stage at Toronto's ACC October 27, 2011 (photo taken by me...used with my permission)

The want and passion to play the bass has carried me until last year. I occasionally would get the opportunity to play other people's basses but never to have my own. Last year for my 40th birthday, I finally got my bass and it's something I treasure dearly.

John's bass playing is exceptional in my opinion. It's like he's playing a counter song interwoven with the rest of Duran's music, which is key I think to Duran's sound. Many other bass players don't do that, they carry the drums and are just used as a rhythm section accessory. But not John...and I like that.

Shot in the dark on stage at Toronto's ACC October 27, 2011 (photo taken by me)

So it's John's 52nd birthday today. What do you get the muse who has everything? Nothing, except best wishes I guess. So to you John, on the off random chance you ever read this...I wish you a very happy birthday. Thank you for your musicality, your inspiration, your honesty, your playfulness, your smile, generally for being you...and for being my muse. You are a joy and a treasure. 

Happy Birthday and many, many more.

With respect and love,


Saturday, 9 June 2012

A man's ultimate doom

Why is it when you tell a man "It's in my purse - go get it" they ALL make the same face. And you know what I mean ladies, it's that look of hopelessness crossed with a mix of fear, disdain and like they've just smelled the most vile thing ever. It's almost the same look that some men will get when the words: period, Midol, pads or tampon are mentioned...but not quite. I'm certain 80% of most men would rather go to the local Shoppers Drug Mart or Walgreens and pick up a box of tampons than go into a woman's purse. And the other 20% would rather be kicked in the balls with a steel toed boot than do either.

And it's not like we have anything in our purse that's going to freak a man out. Nothing. It's not like the Woman's secret handbook on "How to seduce and annoy your man" is in there. Pfftt we keep THAT in our make up bag DUH!

Lets be realistic here now ladies. I mean seriously...have you ever checked out one of those full to bursting, falling apart decrepit wallets men carry around? The ones so falling apart maybe they've even had silver duct tape to "repair" them. Or seen what a man has pulled out of his pocket while retrieving change? Really?! And they piss and moan about the contents of a woman's purse?? I've seen men pull out : dirt, change, condoms, tums, lint, soft gum that once was stick form but now looks something like a melted mound, receipts, lottery tickets, keys, lip balm, bank cards, credit cards, business cards, bag of weed, rolling papers, cigarettes, cell phone, lighters, AA coin...the list goes on. But men are worried about maybe encountering a pad or a tampon in a woman's purse? Bitch please, put your big girl panties on and fetch me my Midol.

It's in my purse.

One last glimpse,


Tuesday, 5 June 2012

You say it's your birthday...

Today I am 41 years old. I was born to Gail and Clare Esselment, younger sister to Kristen at (the now defunct) Sarnia General Hospital. Sarnia Gen was (and still is) a red brick building that had the feel of one of those "old school" hospitals. Some of the newer ones resemble more of a hotel than anything else, but this was a true hospital inside and out. 

I remember when I was about 7 or 8 we went to visit my Grandmother who was having a minor "procedure" (I think she was having her gallbladder removed). My Mom took my sister and I and after about 20 minutes of being in a small room we began to get a little "rammy" as my Mom used to say. She told us to go to the cafeteria and to get a drink (translation: we were being rowdy and pissing my Grandmother off). I remember she told us that the cafeteria was on the "bottom floor". We got in the elevator and pressed "B" (For bottom right?) imagine our surprise when the doors BEHIND us opened and there was a short (12 foot) hallway - very drab green/gray in colour. With two big double doors at the end of the hall. That was it. Nothing else. Each door had about a 2 foot frosted glass window. On each window was one word. It was the same word on both windows. Yep...you guessed it. "MORGUE". You have never seen two kids press the "door close" button so quickly in all your life. That is one of the lone memories I have of that hospital. But it's a 'goodie' that still makes me laugh to this day.

I have some fantastic birthday memories. I remember loads of birthday parties with friends growing up, and up until last year my favorite birthday cake had always been the Pink Panther cake my Mom had given me for my 7th birthday. I freakin LOVED the Pink Panther (I still do!). Last year however, blew that one out of the water. My friend Rachel is so incredibly talented she blows my mind. Last year she made me not one, but TWO incredible cakes for my birthday. I was overwhelmed. I was surrounded by family and friends whom I adore. Ultimate 40th birthday ever.

"Kendra's favourite things" cake (2011)

My "Bass cake" ... with my bass (2011)

I'm not looking for last year to be topped. It stands out all on it's own. Honestly I couldn't have asked for a better birthday. It was unbelievable. Many women my age despair at hitting 40 and beyond. I never took it that way. I embrace the birthday and since I refuse to ever grow up - it's all just a number.

One Last Glimpse,