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I thought I’d live my life like Madonna, yesterday as I had a whole day to play and the activities planned were so bourgeoise I felt like a rock star and wanted to live the transitory existence of someone famous.  As it turned out, Madonna really loved living a day in my shoes, and I appreciated what it must be like to be in hers.  We both felt satisfied with the work we did on ourselves to stay ready for the stage and our contribution to the community in the volunteer work that we did, but by the end of the day, Madonna wishes she had it as good as me.

I started the morning with an Organic Mexican coffee, drip brewed at home.  I realized my uniform wasn’t presentable, so I just had enough time to wash and iron it while I showered and had another Mexican.  Madonna usually has her assistant Liz go down to Starbears for a latte, but I had given her the day off and the kids were at camp so I had a nice, but hectic rather uncharacteristic  morning to myself.  Drove myself down to park in Fort Mason listening to my iPhone broadcast over the Contour radio.  Arranged to see my friend from Hollywood who is art directing an Apple spot in Larkspur as I walked to my gig.

Where Madonna does charity work and outreach to end the AIDS pandemic in Malawi, I work at the Visitors’ Center at Fisherman’s Wharf Googling stuff and helping tourists find things.  What we both do are important activities.  I think I have it a little better because I provide just a little bit of information and solve a little problem with every guest I encounter.  Madonna is trying to end AIDS in Africa so I doubt she gets that little satisfied sense of completion that I do when I serve a visitor.

After my gig at the National Park, I had just enough time to go back to my flat, change out of my uniform and go get a massage with my body worker, Scott.  I showed up at his clinic in Glen Park, but he had forgotten his keys when he left home and no other clinicians where available to let us in, so we drove back to his place to do the massage, which I prefer.  Scott and I both love SCI FI, so I love browsing his titles when he’s doing intake.  We talked about my goals, how sore I am on my Hot and Sticky Tour and the tragedy of a stage hand being killed when the set collapsed, but after his expert attention I felt rejuvenated and relaxed with my deep soreness worked out or at least put on alert and told to get out in places where I didn’t even know I experienced pain.

After the massage I went to the taco truck and got two carne asada tacos and a plate of rice and beans. I’m Madonna and I used to eat out of a garbage can in New York City so being able to afford a hot meal at my advanced age is proof that I have made it.

Whereas Madonna does Pilates and Ashtanga, I do Hatha Naked Yoga for Men.  Madonna has no issues about being nude, I posed fully naked on the side of the road in a wig and stilletos for my Sex book, but I’m more concerned about the privacy of my fellow yogis so they can do their naked yoga practice without being shot at by paparazzi on top of the roof of Ritmo Latino and ending up as naked extras in the background shot of me in Half Moon, naked but censored, in Us Weekly.  Unfortunately, I have to say the class was disjointed, with the instructor stopping the whole class in frustration because some people were doing Down Dog with their toes turned under instead of flat on the floor.  I had to exercise patience at this point and then rebelliously did Low Cobra (to perfection) whenever he called out Down Dog.  The instructor has just been recently accredited and used to assist and sometimes sub but now he has his own class on my most convenient day of the week.  Like Madonna’s former BGFF Courtney Love used to say about Dave Grohl: “When the drummer starts singing lead…”  All three of us are total cunts.

After the workout, I was tempted to go to Starbears and get my own latte, but was afraid of having my incognito penetrated by my gay fans in the  Castro.  I also knew that I might regret the late night caffeine if I stayed up all night.  When I jumped into the Contour after stowing my yoga mat in the trunk, I automatically drove myself in the direction home, like a divining rod will point to water, my car was pointing to a bottle of wine and Top Chef.  I finished an open bottle of Portugese Verdelho and got into a new bottle of a Russian River Valley Chardonnay.  Hubert Keller won the episode of that cooking show and I fell asleep feeling satisfied.

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One Comment

  1. After reading I thought I’d live my life like Madonna I read the rest of the entry while humming the tune “Like A Virgin”.

    Teehee ;P


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