I went to Gaga.

I was going to write up my own review, but the Post did a pretty good job.

A pyrotechnic bikini? Lady Gaga gives D.C.'s 'little monsters' what they want.
By Sarah Kaufman
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, February 25, 2011; 3:48 PM

"I feel like I know you all so well," Lady Gaga purred as she sat in a black bullet bra at her piano - its lid rimmed in flames - at the Verizon Center on Thursday night. She might as well have been playing in a dive bar, hustling tips by soothing the battered egos of a bunch of drunks.

But in view of her career and the unslakable curiosity it has generated - this was the second pass of her "Monster Ball" tour, which came through in September - Gaga's sentiment is absolutely true.

Lady Gaga knows us all TOO well. She knows about our lust for an outrageous blonde, for someone to fill out Madonna's lingerie and push her lyrics into a no-man's land of sexual provocations. She knows we're always up for costumes. And she knows we'll overlook middle-of-the-road music if the hook is catchy and the theme's a little subversive.

Most of all, Lady Gaga knows we're all broken inside, and that we crave hearing how we're just as big a star as the divine hot dog onstage with the sparks shooting out of her bikini - the one bellowing into her headset that we must never give up on our dreams.

Her pyrotechnic two-piece - yes, fireworks detonated from her crotch, too - was one of the more spectacular of Gaga's dozen or so costume changes throughout her two-hour set. Others included a translucent rubber dress topped off with a nun's wimple (and tape over her breasts, an oddly Victorian touch for a woman who regularly shouted expletives and mimed the kama sutra with her dancers). But the one disguise the 24-year-old never shed was Mother.

Gaga's your hell-raiser-with-a-heart-of-gold mom. For you, she would stomp on bullies with her go-go boots (because, as she confides while stretched out on the stage like a wet cat, she was once bullied, too). She's Oprah without pants, bucking up her fans - her "little monsters," as she calls us, affectionately - between every song. She knows we don't only go to a Gaga show for the music but also - maybe mostly - for the messianic, revival-tent message.

And what of the rest of the show? It was a rollercoaster through a Gaga theme park, including her ubiquitous hits "Telephone" and "Poker Face" along with songs from her new "Born This Way" album, including the title tune and a ruminative piano interlude, "Speechless." The songs are strung along a hokey and unnecessary narrative about her car breaking down on the way to the Monster Ball.

Surprisingly, for a young woman with such a fit, willing and eager body - she was more outside than inside most of those outfits - she doesn't dance much. Her backup dancers are an energetic bunch, doing their best work in the "Born This Way" finale in pale yellow plastic dresses, even the men, dancing barefoot like a troupe of modern dancers, slipping in a swift parody of the strictness of ballet, then reverting to pounding, muscular rhythms that are at once heavy yet exhilarating.

What does it mean that we need Gaga? Is it delightful or sad that this extravagant pop star seems to feel our pain? She knows us too well, knows we love the fantasy. That's why she's up there in her vinyl bra, smeared in fake blood, bellowing over the cheers: "I hate the truth! I prefer a giant dose of [barnyard epithet] any day over the truth!" She exhorts her followers to put their paws up, which equates being a "monster" with miming a kitten, but everyone complies and the arena looks like it is filled with extras from "Cats" and Gaga, peering out from under her false eyelashes, sees the adoration and undoubtedly feels the love and ... lights up. Show's over.

In their worshipful stilettos and spandex, Gaga's little children trip precariously into the rain, singing that indelible, upbeat, sally-forth refrain from "Born This Way:" "I'm on the right track, baby..." Gaga knew we'd do that, too.

Traffic laws are our friend.

I love driving. Really. It's probably because I don't do it very much. My commute is very short and I live in the city so I walk everywhere. Ok, well everywhere but work.

Anyway.

I love traffic laws. Really. I wish everyone would obey them. They are there for your safety people. If everyone follows the traffic laws then no one gets run over. Also, they make for an orderly and safe commute.

I'm serious.

For example... Constitution has 4 lanes. By the Capitol during rush hour it changes to 3:1 lanes either way depending on rush hour. During the evening rush there are 3 lanes headed East and one lane headed West. There is also a NO LEFT TURN sign on the corner of 1st NE and Constitution. I cannot tell you how many cabbies DAILY just ignore the red neon sign as well as the posted metal sign with specific directions that you cannot turn left between 4:30-6:30 and turn left anyway!!!

You wouldn't think this would create a problem. BUT IT DOES. Because there is only one late coming west, the cabbies have to wait until all the cars have passed to turn left (illegally). Thus completely negating the benefit of the 3rd east-bound lane!!! IT DRIVES ME NUTS.

I'm going to write the city and help them understand the hundreds of millions of dollars which they could make by installing one tiny little traffic camera on the corner of 1st NE and Constitution.

Seriously people, follow the traffic laws. And this includes you cyclists!!! If you don't follow the traffic laws, no complaining about gettin' run over.

Best Ad ever

I watched the Superbowl, but only for the commercials.

Am I the only one who didn't know this??

Chicken Fried Steak is STEAK?????

I totally thought it was chicken. The woman next to me in the food line said it was chicken. Why would they do this to me???

Just so you all know, chicken fried steak is not chicken... I guess if it was chicken they would just call it FRIED CHICKEN.

Whatever.