Putting the Madge in Danna (3 page)

I love Madonna too – I mean not sexually,
not really. More like a mentor, I guess. She’s much more open about
stuff than Mom. She puts herself out there, which is a vulnerable
thing to do, but she’s such a strong person, and she’s just so
talented!

I know all the words to
all of her songs. I love to sing, by the way. In elementary school,
my music teacher, Miss Lanu, had said I had perfect pitch. In the
ninth grade talent show, I sang
Music
, which I’d memorized after
hearing it on Napster. People actually thought I’d made it up
because it hadn’t been legitimately released! I choreographed a
dance to it too – not so cowgirlish. Madonna would have been proud.
I didn’t win the contest, because it had been rigged for the
principal’s daughter to win, apparently. That’s what my mother had
said at the time, and I believed her.

Madonna and I have loads in common besides
music. We could be best friends in real life if we met at, say, the
mall or something. Okay, so I’m not Italian, but my old country is
only a back-two-three and a toe-ball-change from hers. I have brown
hair that I sometimes have highlighted to look a little bit blonde
(Madonna is a brunette as you all know), and I can make my brown
eyes blue - when I wear my colored contacts (usually only reserved
for exotic fun night with Zeus).

We’re the same height, and I would say about
the same size, give or take a few pounds. I don’t exercise nearly
as much as she does, but I do go jogging on occasion. Because of
the upcoming nuptials, I’m on this regimen of climbing the
bleachers at the high school track every morning before work, bar
bad weather. And I pretend to do yoga during sex (ha, ha). I am a
lot younger than she is, after all, so I don’t have to work as hard
as she does to maintain my figure. Madonna didn’t get into all that
training until she was in her thirties anyhow so I have time to
kill before I inflict that discipline on myself.

I love having sex in every hole and crevice,
and I’m pretty sure Madonna does too. I don’t really know anyone
like her in that respect. Madonna’s whole persona is built around
breaking taboos and boundaries of what is acceptable behavior for
women in society. People actually devote college classes to her
historical significance. She’s amazing!

Oh, and the coolest thing that unites us is
our names. My full name is Dannika Rose Elinopoulous. They call me
Danna. Everyone does. Get it? It’s kind of like Donna, and that’s
pretty close to Madonna, isn’t it?

We could practically be
twins.
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The Six

Saturday, JULY 18, 2009 - 10:20am

According to Wikipedia, Madonna has been in
the record business since 1982. That’s a long time. Researching her
has been like a social studies project or something – really, she’s
older than my mother. I wonder what the ‘80s were like. It was
still before Aids and stuff in the hetero community sex-wise,
right? Pretty sure it was. But Madonna didn’t seem to worry about
that shitilda. I think she really believed that she was headed over
the rainbow and maybe she had a guardian angel, like her dead
mother was her Glinda, The Good Witch. Every time she found a
fucker, it was like finding a friend on the yellow brick road to
Oz, and Toto too.

I’ve been reading about
her all morning. There are just so many possibilities for
the six –
the code for
my future lovers. Did you know that she had dated Vanilla Ice-Ice
Baby? Or Warren Beatty – why he’s as old as my grandfather! Then
there were a couple dancers and models, and porn stars…. I’m
impressed with her body of humpity-hump work. Her fuck ethic
matches her work ethic and then some. It’s like diamond certified
just like
The Immaculate
Collection
. I feel a strong sensation -
call it essence of the pinkerson, that I will transform from this
experience just as Madonna became a superstar after
Who’s That Girl?

It has been difficult to sort through it
all, this thirty-year span of fame, and figure out how I could
narrow the partners down to only six types. But six is what she had
said in my dream, so I’ll need to stick with that, and since I’m
down to six weeks left, I need to hurry along and get this party
started.

Madonna moved to New York City in 1977 with
all of thirty-five dollars in her pocket. She dropped out of
college and decided to become a dancer, which she did while
simultaneously working at Dunkin’ Donuts and posing as a nude
model, and other stuff. Somehow or other she ended up playing drums
in a band. That led to some singing and songwriting and then into
the arms of a record producer. I can’t remember his name – I should
have printed the files, but they would have taken up too many pages
and I didn’t want to waste the paper I needed to prepare the
seating charts for my wedding reception.

She had a boyfriend at the time, her band
mate I think, but I’m pretty sure she cheated on him. Wikipedia
doesn’t lie, so it must be true. Because my heroine must have slept
her way to the top, right? Madonna knew what she had to do to be
somebody. She must have used her sexual superiority to catapult
herself to the position of recording artist of the decade.

This seems like the right place to start. I
need to find myself a record producer. Believe it or not, I
actually know one - more on that later.

Madonna had a highly
publicized affair with Dennis Rodman, the basketball star who had
that freaky meltdown recently on
Celebrity
Apprentice
. Remember that? Rodman once
famously said that Madonna wanted to have his baby. He was a bit of
a kiss and tell, but so what? So am I, well, a
tell
anyway- everybody knows that.
No one in my family tells me any secrets – except Auntie Sofia, but
I don’t know her that well. She lives in Canada. I have the perfect
candidate for my basketballer, and he lives not too far from here!
He will double as my cougar experience since he’s only nineteen I
think, which is something I’m looking forward to. Zeus and I are
the same age.

Madonna also fucked her personal trainer,
Carlos Leon, and produced Lourdes out of that union. I wonder what
he’s doing now? Do you think he’s still fit? I saw my elementary
school gym teacher, Mr. Honeywell, in line at the movie theatre the
other day, and he’s all beer tum-tum. It’s really hard to commit to
a lifetime of working out, don’t you think? I think Madonna and Mr.
Leon were together for a while, and that maybe she would have
married him, if it hadn’t been for that Kabbalah stuff. Apparently,
he was mystically wrong for her.

So I’m pretty sure those two men were both
important to her even though they didn’t go the distance. That she
had wanted to procreate with them and all speaks volumes. I’m sure
Zeus and I will have at least three kids. That way, if we buy a
four-bedroom house we won’t have room for out-of-town guests to
stay with us. I hope that didn’t sound too mean, did it? You know
how I feel about household chores, come on!

Speaking of Jewish mysticism, there was that
friendship with Sandra Burnhardt or whatever her name is, you know,
that comedienne, did she or didn’t she? Was it a relationship? I’m
not sure if I want to go gay in this blog, but what the hell - I
did it in my dream, right? And what’s good for Madonna, be it cock
or lez-lez, can only make me stronger. Of course, it won’t kill
me!

Oh my god! I think I feel all tingly right
now. I can’t believe this is happening with Zeus so far away. Need
to finish all my strategic planning so I can take a dip in the
self- slap. Then I can finish this up….

Few! Okay, I’m back.
Pretended I was being forced against my will to do all these
strange things with my facsimilies – you know, handcuffs and such.
Really made me get off quickly! Do you think Madonna tried out the
BDSM lifestyle? Those snapshots in that famous
Sex
picture book she sold looked
kind of realistic, didn’t they? Plus those scenes in
Justify My Love
when she
was crawling naked with that collar around her neck. And
Body of Evidence
?
Critics thought she had gone too far with her sexual explicitness,
maybe she’d been indulging in all that, and more. Wow.

You know what? I’m getting married, and I’m
pretty sure I won’t see any of that type of action if I don’t seek
it out Madonna style. Now or never, I’d say. Zeus might be named
for the Greek God, but keep in mind he has been raised with Eastern
Orthodox conservatism. We’ve done a lot of fun stuff but he’s never
tied me up, and I’m way too embarrassed to ask for it, lest he
think I’ve gone too far. Yep, I have a lifetime of normalcy ahead
of me as a married woman so this would be it gusto grab-wise.

Madonna was married twice, to Sean Penn, an
actor, and Guy Ritchie, a director. But I can’t do both because
I’ll go over my Madonna dream-imposed limit of fucksters. It’s
either one or the other, or someone who’s both. Where will I find
that? The community players at the theatre around here are all
pretty much gay. I’m going to Manhattan for my bridal shower
though, and we’re staying right near all the theatres on
Broadway….

If I don’t do that, then there’s that whole
A-Rod thing...I don’t know what that was – two separated people
hanging out. Were they talking religion? Steroid use maybe? If it
had been a fucky-wuck, well, baseball’s not really my sport. I get
that it’s all American and apple pie but, you know, those guys look
fat in their dorky costumes. I’m not sure I can do chubbadubb. Zeus
has promised me that he will remain studly throughout our marriage
or else I have permission to divorce him. It’s in our fake pre-nup,
the one we made the night we were pretending to be law clerk and
judge.

We’ll see. Maybe I’ll bite the bullet and
squeeze in a bat toting athlete – if there’s time and there are no
other options.

Okay, I say as I take a
deep breath. I’m doing this, whether you follow along or not,
bloggers (and since no one has commented, I do realize I could just
be talking to myself). I’m committed. But, in the event that
you
are
actually
out there - shush okay? Don’t tell anyone, because this, me fucking
like Madonna, is all on the down-low.

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The List

Sunday, JULY 19, 2009 - 6:00pm

All righty and mighty, so I’ve mapped out a
list of types, and I’m working on finding real men (and a woman) to
be facsimiles to Madonna’s lovers. It’s not in any particular order
except for the first one. Here’s what I’ve come up with:

1. the record producer
   

2. the black basketball star
   

3. the personal trainer
   

4. the lesbian
   

5. the Dom
   

6. the actor/director
   

Six weeks, six fucks. Am I
still up to the challenge? You bet!
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Tin Man

Monday, JULY 20, 2009 - 9:30am

Chad Mavis’ band played at my high school
prom senior year. It was the Chad Mavis Band. We all thought he
would become wildly successful, you know, go solo, maybe even
parlay fame into movie star-slash-celebrity spokesperson for a
glamorous product like Grey Goose or Applebee’s. He was hot, kind
of like an American Mick Jagger circa 1968 - lean, longish dark
hair and a mouth that could swallow a cuntessa. His songs were
about love and video games, and drinking whiskey, but mostly they
involved a girlfriend named Cherilyn with long, dark hair, kinda
like mine was back then, before I highlight-blondified and trimmed
it.

Zeus and I danced our heads off that night.
My pinkie was drenched in emollients of sexy juice by the time we
made it to the hotel room and pretended it was our wedding night.
Blood kind of gushed all over the back of my Jessica McClintock
dry-clean only chiffon gown because I was stupid enough to keep it
on during our premiere nasty. I had to wear his tuxedo jacket home.
Luckily, I was able to sneak in without flack from my parents. They
always thought Zeus was (and is) a good boy so it was all good.

We professed our love to each other that
night and vowed to follow The Chad Mavis Band on their tour as our
honeymoon someday, the way my Auntie Dodie followed the Grateful
Dead one summer with two girlfriends. It’s funny thinking about
this now, because it reminds me of roast beef sandwiches and red
wine, and the smell of that old inn mixed with the stench of
lubricated condoms.

Our love has remained strong but Chad Mavis’
career tanked. My guess is drugs and such. It’s a shame he gave up
so soon. I mean, I’ve only been out of high school for like five
years. He obviously didn’t believe in self-efficacy or else he
would have tried harder to be the man we all thought he’d be.
Quitters are kind of a bummer.

Well, now he runs a tiny recording studio in
Albany. It’s mostly for vanity CDs, people willing to pay top
dollar because in their minds they will be the next American Idol.
I bet Chad Mavis would have loved to have won on Idol had he ever
thought to try out. I sincerely suspect that he’s a little like
those contestants - vain. Most people who seek fame have that
glitch, like they like their weird psycho fans better than the
people in their life who really matter. Poor Cherilyn or whomever
he ended up with, I think. Zeus would never pick someone else over
me. He’s not much of a taste-tester.

I’m sure Chad Mavis would be flattered to
have a groupie like me, right? Especially now, because he’s not
exactly Mick Jagger anymore, and because I’m not your
run-of-the-mill average freak. At least I don’t think I am. I’m not
a freak at all.