Some good news: Lady Gaga’s stolen Frenchies were returned unharmed, and it sounds like her dog walker, who was shot by the criminals who took the dogs, is going to be okay.
There’s a lot going on in the world, much of it terrible, so a happy ending is a welcome thing.
I became a Gaga fan in 2008 or so when I accompanied my then 11-year-old to a Gaga concert. I did not want to go. I had stopped going to big concerts many years before because every time I went to a large-venue show, something terrible happened, such as a stranger vomiting in my purse or getting caught up in a brawl, etc.
But the kiddo was a huge fan and desperate to attend when The Monster Ball tour came to town, so I said I would go too because there was no fucking way I was letting an 11-year-old go alone or with other unaccompanied 11-year-olds.
Anyhoo, we arrived at the venue, the kiddo buzzing with excitement and me trying not to be an old grouch about being obligated to leave the comfort of my tiki bar and join a boisterous crowd of strangers, which is one of the things I most despise in life.
But even going in with that rotten attitude, I was quickly won over because damn, what a show Lady Gaga puts on! It was nothing like the concerts of my youth, which typically featured scruffy, sneering bandmates slouching onto a stage to blast high-volume music at the audience for a couple of hours and then slouch backstage to do drugs. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
No, this Gaga concert was like a Broadway production! There were highly elaborate and changing sets and lighting! There were scads of dancers! There was a flaming grand piano that rose from under the stage! There was Gaga hoist on cables and flying through the air! I mean, damn!
So, I’ve been a huge Gaga fan ever since. Glad her pups are home.