Maybe Edison is ACDC

Oh Jack White, swoon...

So we are in the thick of finishing costumes, cutting out neon lightning bolts, rigging up low budget dolly tracks, and practicing our redonkulous dance moves. Sadie and I did a test run of our dance in heels on the brick patio in her backyard this morning. Her husband made pancakes, and we hooked up the ipod with Brett's version of the song to the speakers. I'm sure her neighbors were thrilled. Nothing like Lady Gaga at 8am. Here's what I have to say about our dancing: No one broke an ankle. 

Lucky lucky ducks that we are, it looks like it's going to rain all weekend. And since our Lady Gaga is going to be on the road with her band the next few weeks, it looks like we won't be able to shoot the exterior shots (dancing stuff) until the end of this month. SO we are going to have a few more weeks to practice the dance, and come up with new bizarre ways to pay homage to Lady Gaga, who Sadie and I admitted to each other this week we've come to love while doing this project. Her performance on Ellen alone was enough. She had me at the standing up on her piano bench singing solo. Adorable. I didn't know the first thing about her before we started. Not even sure how I heard the song for it to become enough a part of my subconscious that I would start writing my own lyrics to it one night in the kitchen. I was raised in a college town so my musical tastes were formed by New Order,  Siouxsie and the Banshees,  The Smiths, and The Misfits, (I turned into a martian, whoa oh oh...) and oh yeah, massive amounts of adolescent ennui. Bonjour Billie Holiday. Good Morning Heartache. Oh 1980's how I miss you so.

Maybe it was inevitable that I'd end up spending the first part of my 2010 glitter gluing Barbies, and supergluing them onto headbands, so that I could dress up like a pirate hooker in my bff's back yard and DANCE. Maybe my mother should have limited my musical experience to Wagner, and The New Kids on the Block. I could be married to a banker and wearing SLACKS on a Saturday. Speaking of my dear mother...

I've decided to use her in the video. She's spending the winter in Palm Springs, and I needed an older woman. Not an old woman, just someone older than me (fair enough). So she's game, and even willing to do a little bit of legwork for her costume. This morning, she was out shopping for a Ken Doll to glue onto HER headband (you see, there was NO chance of me turning out vanilla), and she sends me this text:

"Ken is honking huge.  Wouldn't you think there would be an Ellen D type looking Barbie that is normal size but could be ACDC.   Where the hell are the boy dolls?"