Pete Yorko did NOT write "Beer Bottle Mama". My whole world has been based on lies.
Friday, I was in a mood that closely resembled the rotting body of a dead whore stuffed in the spirngs of a hotel matress. Can't picture that? I'll just say that it was nasty and left a strange smell for miles and miles. I opted to skip seeing The Ponys as I wasn't in the mood for a 50/50 chance that I'd hear something rockin' (and since they didn't play "Chemical Inbalance" or "Fall Inn", I'd say I made the right choice) after I had spent the majority of my Friday crying and praising the melancholy brilliance of Blink 182. Instead, I took a mini-road trip to Stink City, USA (not to be confused with Spook City, USA) where beer, a movie, some laughs, and a good night sleep had set me right again. No hanky panky...just some good old fashioned compassion. Sometimes you DON'T want to go where everybody knows your name. Sometimes you just need to be somewhere where you know your ex-husband's name isn't going to come up and you know you won't get shit for being slightly hostile and selfish. It's what I needed. After that, I just felt like a regular old whore...the non-rotting kind.
Saturday, after a shopping trip which scored me a shirt reading "Trust Me...I'm An Alcoholic" and one reading "Cowboys Make Better Lovers", an intimate gathering for drinks and board games to cure boredom turned in to an Ol' Kentucky Sharks rock-n-roll-a-rama causing us to buy every 24 oz. PBR that the scariest grocery store in creation could offer. I love being in such a goofy, drunk mood that hiding in the bushes and then running down the street with my shirt pulled over my head with Pete seems like a good idea. This mood was most likely contagious as lots of graphic mooning took place, Switchblade passed out in a closet under 50 pairs of shoes (one of which made it's way up his butt) and Brodie woke up screaming, "Where am I!? What day is this!?" after smooshing Bean's jugs in his face and passing out. All in all, it was fucking fun as fuck (Pete even played "Beer Bottle Mama" for me l-i-v-e) but the fucking highlight was buying a book about ninjas that is beyond totally sweet. Now I officially believe that a ninja could stomp a pirate any day of the week.
Today was a total "Cleveland kind of day". Bean and I woke up and attended a family outting to the zoo...I got to see the Slow Loris and it's perefct, fuzzy, cupable butt! And my second favorite animal, the fossa, which is a cross between a skinny cat and a weasle and it has red eyes. Took a stroll down the perverse section of memory lane at the Shark Encounter, illegally rode the tram with an ice-cream cone, and bought a mega-sweet cowboy hat for Heavy Rebel. Managed to fit in a ten second nap before an awfully productive Pussyfoot practice. The show next Friday is going to be a hit, as they say in the business. What business is that? The business of blowing minds, y'all. Be there. No excuses. Closed out this day with a trip to the drive-in to see "House of Wax" for the second time. It was equally as k-rad and the killer was equally as flippin' hot, even with his dirty trucker hat on. And now I'm here...home sweet home...and ready to hit the sack before I make the most of my Memorial Day in my state's capital.
Thanks to everyone (and you know who you are) for making my horrible weekend flip-flop for the better.
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