Rock n Rolla

I like to rock out, now and then, to something of the heavy variety. Don’t be fooled by the cowgirl persona possums, country makes my skin crawl whereas a little death metal can really get this gal groovin’. The rock genre has always been my fave, so I feel that I am somewhat well versed on the subject. Case in point, the contusion on my right shin that remains 5 months after falling off my chair whilst dancing during AC/DC’s Black Ice show. Not my finest moment, but a great time nonetheless.

I recently read an interview where a popular British rock star (or preppy young lad in a red pea coat) made reference to the Grunge era that took North America - and the world really - by storm in the 90’s. Brandon Flowers of The Killers took a stab at the late great Kurt Cobain in an interview with the UK’s Daily Mail, and I quote "I don't mean it in a bad way, but I think Kurt Cobain and grunge took the fun out of rock 'n roll. Everything's changing, though, and it’s starting to become a lot more playful and brighter." I’m sorry? This from a man whose surname is ‘Flowers’ and is responsible for this song?! Are we human or are we dancing? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. If that is considered rock, Lady Gaga is the next Madonna.

Speaking of ‘Gaga’, I can’t help but gag-gag over her latest look. Lady Gaga; she’s neither a Lady nor a Gaga - discuss. Rachel Zoe will be choking on her 100 calorie lunch over this one...


I suppose it’s no better than this...

...or this. Good god.





I won’t be blogging next week as I’ll be kicking it in Cuba - mojito in hand. Look for the Urban Cowgirl Does Cuba post upon my return. Before I bid you a ‘hasta luego’, let’s rock out proper, shall we? Peace out possums. x

Fashion Faux Possums

At the ripe ol' age of 30, I'm feeling much too young to be reliving some of the worst fashion trends known to man, but alas, it’s happening. I remember when I bought my first pair of ‘flare’ jeans circa 1994 and my mom saying ‘I wore those when I was your age’. At the time the 70’s seemed ancient, so that comment had merit. Today, however, as I sit in my sky rise apartment perched over the city cringing over the sight of slouchy boots, spandex and neon I can’t help but feel a touch archaic. Ugh.

It’s true that trends can come back full circle, sometimes they make as many comebacks as Cher’s farewell tour. However, that doesn’t mean they should. Over the past few weeks I have endured a few fashion WTF’s that I couldn’t help but share.

The big belt. This is nothing new possums, as we’ve seen this accessory sneak it’s way back into our closets a few times. But must we put a belt on EVERYTHING? Never mind the ring, if you like it then ya shoulda put a belt on it kids because you cannot escape the little cinchers. In one afternoon of shopping, I swear the words “you should throw a belt on it” escaped the mouths of several relentless retailers. It got so bad that during my final stop, I could see an unsuspecting staffer approaching in my peripheral as I slipped out of the change room sporting a summery shift. Before she could manage a word, I interrupted and said ‘let me guess, I should totally throw a belt on it?’ The look of disgust this gal gave me. Priceless.

Just this past weekend I was again blind sided by another trend I thought for sure died with my big hair and risky business Ray-bans. The scrunchie. Yes ladies, it’s back. I have no idea at what capacity...perhaps it’s just a blip? Either way, this is something we simply should not support. Just say no to the stretchy bow. Boycott the scrunchie! I was so appalled, I captured a photo of the fashion catastrophe.

It’s all reminiscent of a popular Sex and the City episode that epitomizes the essence of the scrunchie. You might remember it.

Scrunch out. Keep it scrunchie.
x

Can’t buy me bubbly

I love champagne. Love it. My gal pals and I enjoy nothing more than a glorious bottle o’ bubbly, preferably on a patio or at a cozy lounge over gossip and such. I also enjoy when complimentary cocktails are sent to our table care of an admirer. Who wouldn’t? I’m lucky to roll with a fairly foxy crew, so a grand gesture of this sort is not exactly unheard of. However, it’s a rarity that we receive a bottle of fine champagne upwards of $150. This does not happen every day possums.

After knocking off work on Friday I raced to an oceanfront patio to meet one of my besties for a beverage in the sun. Bliss. As we caught up over a few pints, we noticed a fine bottle of bubbles headed our way to which we redirected the server advising him that unfortunately he had the wrong table. Moments later our waiter made his way back to our table assuring us that the bottle was in fact for us, care of another guest is the restaurant. Hmmmm. Normally, we would be happy to accept this little bottle of goodness but we both had dates with our respective boys and needed to be cool (somewhat of a feat when this particular bestie and I get together). So we decided to have just one glass and settle our bill.

As we enjoyed the fabulous fizz, we couldn’t help but wonder who might have sent the champagne? My friend’s ex-boyfriend was the bar manager for a time, maybe he sent it? Nope. We called him. I work 2 blocks from this establishment and have produced some fine work as of late, perhaps one of my superiors was having drinks and sent it over? Nope. I walked the perimeter.

Moments later we were rudely accosted by an angry little man who decided to ‘school’ us in front of everyone on the patio. He questioned why we couldn’t have just enjoyed the bottle he and his friend sent over and how blatantly ridiculous he thought we were. After the old boy was finished scolding us, my faithful companion thanked him (and I quote) for his ‘feedback’. Ha.

What this man didn’t realize was that a) we both can afford to buy our own champs and b) it’s not that unlikely that someone we knew could have sent it. As we were wrapping up, we decided to have the bottle re-corked before booking it out of there. As we made our exit, the same geriatric gent shouted across the patio advising us that we shouldn’t take the champs corked, he’d like to buy us a new one. Well that was the cork that broke the camels back. My friend boldly walked over and placed the corked bottle of bubbles on his plate. “There you go Gramps!” Well, that’s not exactly what she said..but it went down something like that.

Grand gestures are great, whether they come from a grandaddy or a pimp daddy. However, the rules in which we are to accept these gestures can be simply outrageous. Sometimes boys should just keep their bubbles to themselves.