You can still hear the demon blowin' his top.

I'm sad to say that The Hunches did not shake me at my foundation. I don't like singers who roll all over the floor and try and intimidate the crowd. I think they are rather on the lame side. But This Moment in Black History made up for it by ruling the school and singing "Let's Talk About a Civil War", which is just fantastic. It was good to hang with Johnny Switchblade, even if he was rockin' a cold that may have been passed on to me, and Uncle Ben. I came to terms with what an old lady I am when circa 11:30p, all I could think about was how soft my pillows are. Regardless, my leaving early affected nothing since Hunches didn't play "Lisa Told Me" or "Same New Thing". I sort of tossed $7 in the can...though money spent on a show is never wasted. Music (and art) is my life.

Leaving for Heavy Rebel tomorrow morning, bright and eary. I'm not packed, my car is not cleaned out, my toenails aren't painted, but HOT DAMN, am I ready to blow this pop-stand. Three days in Winston-Salem, regardless of how hot, with the Ol' Kentucky Sharks, endless amounts of PBR, and continuous music...hot damn. I just really can't wrap my mind around the fact that on Sunday night, I will be with my future husband, Torr Skoog, once again. Kings of Nuthin'...in my Top 5 Favorite Bands. Wow...I'm practically shaking in anticipation! SO MUCH TO DO! SO LITTLE TIME! And that's how I like it...I work best under pressure. This weekend, to be honest, is exactly what I need, exactly when I need it. God bless you, Heavy Rebel 2005!

Isn't it a blast trying to make the hip times last?

The emo ship has left the docks making way for the party boat. I'm alright, I just had a little spazma attack. I had to get things off my chest because I don't need anything cluttering up the award-winning cleavage I am trying to achieve. So be my pal or don't. Talk to my ex or don't. It's all fairly simple either way and it's pretty much in your hands, people, and I'm just going to go with the flow. See me? I'm doing a little hula dance, that's how flow-going I am. See my arms? They're a-swayin'. See my hips? They're a movin'. And the people who really care about me...who understand what I need for the time being and what is best for me and what is the right thing to do to help me get stronger and what THEY would want to happen if THEY were in my situation...they're all doin' the hula, too! So be supportive of me but don't WORRY about me. Like I've said, I've wrestled tigers before...and they were angry.

Word around the rumor mill..and there is ALWAYS words around the rumor mill...is that Crazy Danny Daddy is going to make an appearance at Heavy Rebel. As if I wasn't excited enough...I now feel like I have crispy critters in my knickers. Not sure what that means and it sort of grossed me out but I needed something SO NUTTY to explain how riled up I am. I've been couting down to this event since there were 117 days left! And now...less than 3!! Add Crazy Danny to the mix of things I was already orgasming about...Lil Jen, Phoebe Bean, all the Ol' Kentucky Sharks, new clothes, old clothes, cute fellas, perty ladies, rockin' tunes, BEER, pink switchblades, Elvis busts, hotel swimming pools, KINGS OF FUCKIN' NUTHIN' (I am soooo getting my picture with a sweaty Toor Skoog)...and I'm not sure I'll survive it all. Winston-Salem, lock up your sons! We are on our way!

Say you're one man's taste.

Emotions ahead. If you gave a Crock Pot, I suggest you use it now.

Yesterday was one of the most intense and emotional days of my life and I'm really not a fan of emotions on the weekend. A lot of things I didn't want to admit or didn't want to discuss or didn't want to deal with or didn't want to believe came to the table and there was really no way to get out of it alive. OK, so maybe I got out of it alive, but I'm certainly wounded and after having water leak out of my eye cokets for a majority of yesterday and this morning, I am certainly swollen and red. Point by point, the following is what has kicked me in the back of the knees:

-Things are being kept from me. Some kids say it's so I don't get hurt. Some kids just don't think twice about the fact that said things may hurt my feelings. Some kids just don't give a rat's ass and they'll do what the want regardless. All of this has brought to the forefront that people I've know and cared about have changed. Situations have changed. Relationships have changed. And while I don't want my friends to totally shut my ex out of their lives, it would be nice if they could just hold off awhile so I can get used to things. It's like getting a knife in the chest when everyone in the world can have a relationship with him except you. I thought people would get how hard that might be for me but then again, people shock the Hell out of me all the time. Being the last to know does more damaged. This is coming from the source you're trying to protect. Well, some of you, anyway.

-Finally resolved my issue with Lisa Marie. It upset me a ton that she didn't seem to have any compassion for what I was going through. Well, she didn't understand how bad I am feeling and after a 2 hour conversation, she does now. She understands where I am coming from and why I am hurting and she is being a truly excellent friend. A good listening ear, ready with the feedback, armed with compassion. She refered to herself as a combo tampon/Maxi bad/full coverage bra/sunglasses...everything I need right now...well, symbolic of what I need any how. I know it's a challenge for her as well because she is great friends with my ex...she has to balance both of us and deal with our garbage. But now at least she knows that I love my ex and any hurt that I am experiencing and any anger I may be projecting is because I lost the most important thing in my life...

-...which bring us to this point. I am not NEARLY as OK with this junk as I thought. During the now famous 2 hours, crying my eyes out conversation that took place yesterday, a lot of things came out that I haven't said to anyone. I had to empty myself out so she could know where my hurt is coming from. And what it boils down to is this: I am still in love and it was foolish for me to think otherwise, especially after such a short period of time. I miss my friend. I miss having him in my life. And maybe I am jealous that everyone in the world can have a relationship with him and I CAN'T because I CAN'T just be friends. We were never friends only. We met, I brought him home, I fell in love. Simple as that. Somewhere in there, friendship grew. Alicia, who made the best effort to cheer me up, made some comment at Pussyfoot practice that I will find that perfect guy that I click with and all I could manage to get out was, "He's my guy".

-I did NOT fight hard enough. I accepted defeat. I quit. And now I have to live with that. Lisa said that I DID fight as hard as I could...tooth and nail. But it's not true. He was too angry at me to really give our marriage his all and accepted that as enough. And it wasn't. There was so much good there and I let him throw it away.

-This is not just difficult for me. He feels the heat. His friends feel the heat. My friends feel the heat. My parents feel the heat. My entire family feels the heat. I haven't been a very good friend to a lot of people recently. I know that and I apologize. But I need to say that none of this is funny, at all. I may make jokes about my divorce but really, it's not funny. It's killing me inside. And I may be out and about, flirting and talking about dating and what not but...that is also by no means cute and funny. There is nothing entertaining about the fact that I kiss another's girl's boyfriend just so I don't have to feel like running away every minute of the day. I am trying to be as strong as possible...I think I've done a pretty good job. But this is difficult...I could use more support from my "friends". I get it some places but not in all the places I need.

-I take responsibility in my part of the divorce. It is not all his fault. I made plenty of my own mistakes and I'll feel God awful about them forever. But on the flip side, I was always working. When I made mistakes, I tried to fix them. When he made mistakes, I tried to fix them. I wanted this. I wanted this life. I wanted this guy. Sometimes, and I'm sure I'll get a lot of flack for this, I wonder if I wouldn't cut off one of my toes to give it another shot. But the bottom line on this topic is that I did NOT want a divorce. I may take responsibility for some of my actions leading us there, but the call was his. If they would have asked me if this is what I wanted...100% of me would have wanted to say no.

I think that may be all I have to address right now. Just needed to get some of this stuff off of my chest. I am not OK with this. I, myself, am NOT OK. I am in pain. I am hurting. I am missing an entire half and I am fairly certain that I can't feel any more empty. This isn't even 1/4 of the story, as Lisa can tell you, but it's what I can say without cracking up for good.

I am sad.

Double up or quit. Double stake or split.

One week until Heavy Rebel. Whatever you have planned, just know that Bean, Lil' Jen, and the whole Ol' Kentucky Sharks crew will be having more fun than you will. I have vowed NOT to lose my camera, NOT to toss my cookies, NOT to leave Winston-Salem without a pink switchblade and NOT to miss Psychocharger! And will you lookie here! Kings of Nuthin' are playin' after all. Shame on you, doubters! I've got to get in gear and warsh my knickers and pack my bags because, oh yes, I only have one week left.

My dance card is empty for Saturday and Sunday. Drag.

But on the up-side, I think "boy" and "girl" are getting along again. Even if boy wouldn't say that girl was the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. I guess saying that she is the most beautiful girl in the mid-west, and "it" from head to toe, and equally as tops both physically and mentally SHOULD be good enough...but girl is stubborn. Bottom line: I think girl may get to hear boy talk in his "Daddy" voice once again...if he keeps in line, suckahs!

I have the world's best belt buckle. It has the power to make you smell like a brewery.

Last night, I went to The Harp for the birthday gathering of Miss Maggie Maalox. The Harp is clearly not the place for me but it was still good to see the birthday gal with a smile slapped across her beautiful mug and a handsome man fawning over her. She deserves a good day with an evening full of admirers...even if some of the coolest and most important were absent. I know someone else who had a less than perfect evening and was wearing a rather sour puss. I will keep my fingers crossed that the tides take a turn in her favor. She, too, deserves a smile.

I have BIG plans for today.

I also have a Felix the Cat KISS t-shirt.

Make plans with me for Saturday or Sunday if you know what is good for you.

Lying in the grass beside the tombstone.

Crazy Danny is an amazing friend...a fearless friend...a possibly alcoholic friend. I owed him kisses from his birthday and last night, I paid my debt. He's an amazing smoocher for a guy who can't hold his head up and screams It's ALRIGHT! I'm gay! We danced to "Necrofelia" and I let him feel the 14 mutant swamp baby Rileys kick their tentacles of steel. He's my Crazy Danny Daddy and I'm his Lacey Mama-Mama.

My Girl Flo finally decided to come to town. Raise the roof.

So while palling around with Crazy Danny and the Thunderbirds (somehow I became one and always have to wear my collar up...thunder thunder!) and those crazy Detroit fuckers was incredibly fun, the whole night was slightly short of a smashing success. This morning, I am pretty sure I vowed to beat the Koffin Kats drummer with his own sticks.

Oh yes, ladies and germs, them's fightin' words 'cause we is a-fightin'.

I'm not even going to get into the gross and gorey details because it would bore you right to death. Up for the Cliff's Notes version? Try this: boy and girl get into a fight via text message 2 weeks ago * girl is mega-riled up at boy * boy tries to explain himself * girl is still ticked off and feels let down * boy and girl are in same state at same time (not a common occurrence) * girl tries to be the bigger person and suggests "kissing and making up" to boy * boy says NO * girl says OH WELL and goes on with her evening as planned * boy wants to talk to girl but tonight is not the right night * in girls' mind, no night is the right night, she tried to make up and was rejected so what else is there to discuss? * girl and boy exchange text messages during and after the show * girl and boy exchange text messages all morning * nothing is resolved between girl and boy * girl's friend forbids her from sending anymore text messages to boy * girl goes home * boy does whatever the fuck he does * THE END.

And the irritating part is that on the way to the show, I examined the original fight that took place weeks ago with my lil' sis. This somehow morphs into how well I click with this boy and how if we lived in the same state (mine, of course, as his STINKS like dead bodies), we'd probably be best friends...though no one could replace Johnny Switchblade. But we are where we are and things are as they are. He thinks he's only good when it's convienient for me. I think he didn't want to pal around with ME...he just wanted SOMEONE so bad. Bottom line: we repel each other.

But the PBR helped.
And Crazy Danny helped.
And "Subcultural Girl" and "Nekrofelia" helped.
And a cover of "Ace of Spades" and a Meteors song helped.

Life is funny. Stick around.

We've come too far to leave it all behind.

THEY KEEP COMIN' and I keep goin'...and you suck your thumb!

Sat. Aug. 20 * Cult of the Psychic Fetus, Uncle Scratch's Gospel Revival * The Grog Shop * 9PM

So, the rumor is that I have been impregnated with 14 mutant swamp babies, all of which are to be named Riley. How did this happen? With gamma radiation supplied into a crazy man's hands by a bayou-dwelling witch doctor, of course. Makes perfect sense, if you think about it. I don't encourage the father to try and feel the kicks because our babies' powerful tentacles have the strength to kick right through my womb and no one needs a bloody mess on their hands...or on their dress for that matter. It's good to know that I will have an army of Riley's to take care of me in my old age. That is...if they don't eat me or their father first. He'd probably think that was the coolest thing to ever happen to him. Man is Eaten Alive By A Mutant Army of His Offspring. Mother of the Army Mourns the Loss.

Happy Father's Day, Daddy, from the unborn Riley's #1-14.

In real news...actual, authentic "it is happening to me" news...I am a week late. You know..."late". Pros: I haven't "made with the love" since the last meeting with My Girl Flo. Cons: My last 2 meetings only lasted for a day and Flo wasn't very encouraging. Having my ex-husband's bun in my oven would leave me no option but to lay down on a train track. Then Russle Crowe could write a song about me. I am going to go see Nekromantix before I officially start comtemplating suicial measures.

11 days to the Heavy Rebel Weekender. Holy cow.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Tommy Bones who doesn't look a day over 25! I am glad that I could entertain you by crawling around on your living room floor with Maggie Maalox, rubbing my butt in her face and screeching MEOW at the top of my bruised and battered lungs (2 days with no cigarettes and couting...and cranky...and coughing). It is only for you that I would do an impromptu performance with 2 broken ribs, a summer cold, and no glasses on! You are one cool dude with a cool wife and a cool life. You deserved a rockin' celebration and I hope you felt that all your pals delivered!! Chicago lost a gem when they lost you. Our gain! Cleveland rocks! Tommy Bones is king!

Don't neglect the comment feature, people.

They're takin' lipstick out tonight.

If you haven't heard the song "Rumble with the Gang Debs" by Tullycraft, I insist that you illegally download it as soon as possible. It has replaced Brendan Benson's "I'm Easy" as the song of the summer and if I had an Ipod, it would be the most played song. So do yourself a favor and listen to it. And while you're at it, do yourself another favor and don't make fun of ME for listening to it. I'm in a punchy mood. Peppy but punchy.

PLEASE ADD THESE to the list of places I will be and you will wish you were!

Tues June 21 * Nekromantix, The Henchmen, Koffin Kats * The Magic Stick (Detroit, MI) * 8PM * special note: I will be on a pseudo-date with Crazy Danny so DON'T screw it up...we have 14 mutant swamp babies in the oven.

Fri. June 24 * Federation X, Birds of Avaolon, Interfuse * Beachland Tavern * 9:30PM * $7

Wed. July 7 * Groovie Ghoulies, Vista Cruisers, Teenage Bottle Rockets, Teenage Harlots * Lime Spider * 9:30PM * $5 21 and over, $10 18-20 unless otherwise noted

Thurs. July 14 * The Immortal Lee County Killers, Uncle Scratch's Gospel Revival * Beachland Tavern * 9PM * $7

Thurs. July 21 * Holly Golightly, The Woggles * Beachland Tavern * 9PM * $10

July 30 * Big Bad Voodoo Daddy * Cleveland House of Blues * 9PM * $22

Sat. Oct. 8 * Reigning Sound (opening for Detroit Suckrahs, my ears will temporarily bleed) * Beachland Tavern * 9PM * $12

And a Happy Belated Birthday to Tessa Marie Faith Onion-Head Kinney. I hope 26 treats you better than 25. Try not to put too much stress on this age by expecting to figure your entire life out too soon. If you spend all your time doing that, you may not have any fun at all.

I even fell for that stupid love song.

I got a package from Tim Sullivan today. Life is good.

It appears as if my summer cold...a staple of the warmer months...is upon us. I sort of expected to wake up with a hangover after 4 hours of sleep and far too many alcoholic beverages consumed at the Honkeytonk Damnation show (ah, Aaron Weiss...we could have made such perty babies). I did not expect to start rockin' a sore throat, stuffy head, and cough, all of which I have no room for in this busy weekend. I was really dragging something fierce at work. While on hold, I drew what was supposedly my best robot ever while being lulled into a coma by Herman's Hermits' "There's a Kind of Hush". I could not properly function but what I could do is rub a man's round tummy three times. I wasn't granted any wishes or whisked off to an exotic land like that Oz everyone talks about. What I did get was comfort...I didn't feel well and for some bizarro reason, putting my hands on a rather plush stomach (and knowing that he liked the 5 seconds of physical contact we had) and hearing a man laughing and seeing him smiling made me forget that phleghm was taking over my upper quadrants. I need a boyfriend...or at least someone to make me Cup-o-Soup when I'm ill.

Uncle Benjamima Lybargally massaged my sternum last night. He taught his future wife the method and she gave it a whirl. They have magic thumbs, those kids. I wonder if it will be considered odd to ask my next lovah to do this rub as a form of foreplay. Think I'm kidding? My heart beat just a titch faster than usual.

Sidenote.

Aaron Weiss is a dreamboat and my physical ideal for the following reasons:
-he is tall
-his hair...perfection
-he wears belt buckles
-he has a mass quantity of facial expressions
-he drinks a MAN'S drikn
-he smokes cigars
-he like Family guy
-he drives a truck
-his teeth are "Colgate Smile" worthy
-he is old-fashioned, or so I hear
-he has been with the same gal forever (loyal and devoted)
-he plays an instrument
-he can sing
-he seems pretty funny
I think it would be best if he was just cloned and dispensed to all women.

End sidenote.

Trying to muster up the strength to shower for the big comedy club outting scheduled for tonight. I wish I could just go as is but let's face it...I'm an utter grease trap and I don't want to offend my friends this evening. And while the laughter, the chicken fingers, and the Carol-inspired heckling sound fan-fucking-tastic, it seems equally as tempting to stay in my comfy bed with tissues stuffed up my beak, a hoodie pulled up over my slimy and dripping head, and my digital video recorder stuffed with quality programming to make sweet, sick love to. I know I'll end up throwing myself in the tub, even if for a hippie version of bathing, because I don't want to miss out on an evening that it an opportunity for so much chaotic fun, Ol' Kentucky Shark style. It's just lighting that fire under my can that's tuff. Yeah, I said tuff!

I think I like the new Kelly Clarkson song almost more than I like "Maneater" by Hall & Oates.

Well, she’s my baby, and I’m her wreckin’ machine!

Well, I've run out of options so it looks like I'll be missing out on the Eight Ball Grifter show. I'm not shocked at all that I won't be going. Regardless...it rots. Feel free to continue reading and see how jazzed I was about it a few hours ago:

SOM'BITCH!

I usually like to have my weekend plans secured by Tuesday. While Saturday and Sunday are set in stone, Friday is wide open and stuffed with options. Maybe hit the comedy club with the lovey Lisa. Maybe go to some bar called Rockabilly's that I have heard bad things about. MAYBE go to Port Huron, Michigan to see EIGHT BALL GRIFTER!?!? Hot DOG! Now of course, this would be my first choice as it's only $5 and they're playing with Wailin' Elroys and Dangerville. It would be worth the agonzingly boring and dreadful ride just to hear SOM'BITCH! Got, my spine is all a-tingle just thinkin' about it.

But who will step up to the plate to accompany me? My guess is no one. I'm ususally good to go at the drop of a hat when people want to go to shows (local or long distance) or out of town or whatever but I rarely get the same eager-beaver response. I suppose I have no problem going alone because it will truly be the loss of those who don't step forward to be a pal. But I will admit that it will be a lonely drive to and fro and I probably won't be as excited to raise my hand and yell, "Som’Bitch" by myself. Actaully, it would be a pretty big drag. But I'd end up stabbing myself in the liver with a rusty hook if I missed Eight Ball Grifter.

Somebody...shock me...be a good friend!

I've got fleas. I've got jaws.

I WILL BE AT THESE EVENTS...you will be at home counting your money.

Wed. June 16 * Wailin' Elroys, Honkeytonk Damnation * Beachland Tavern * 9PM * $5

Mon. June 20 * Nekromantix, The Henchmen * Agora Ballroom * 8PM

Tues. June 28 * Chicago * Tower City Ampitheater

Wed. June 29 * Cheater Slicks, The Hunches, This Moment In Black History * Beachland Tavern * 9:30PM * $7

Fri.to Sun. July 1-3 * HEAVY REBEL WEEKENDER!!! * Millenium Center (Winston-Salem, NC) * 3 day passes $50 or $20 a day

Sun. July 3 * Reigning Sound, Tough and Lovely, Vista Cuisers * Beachland Tavern * 9PM * $8

Sat. July 9 * "Bike and Rockabilly Show" w/ Lords of the Highway, Buck Stevens & the Buckshots, The Pussyfoot Girls * Leroy Thompson Choppers (Mentor, OH)

Tues. July 12 * Los Straitjackets Summer Twist Party, The Pontani Sisters, Kaiser George * 9PM * $15

Fri. July 15 * THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS!!!! * The Odeon * 9PM * $23.50

Sat. July 16 * THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS @ Kids Fest (children's show)* Tower City Ampitheater * 1:00 & 3:30PM

Fri. July 22 * The Spits, Self-destruct Button, The Gluttons * 9:30PM * $10

Sat. Aug. 6 * Psychocharger * Twisted Nightmares Horror Convention (Quality Inn, Middleburg Hts., OH) * 9PM

Wed. Aug. 10 * Split Lip Rayfield * Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame

Tues. Aug. 16 * The Briefs, Street Dogs, Curbslappy * Grog Shop * $8 adv/$10 dos

Mon. Nov. 21 * Brian Setzer Orchestra * Cleveland House of Blues

We'll fly by wheat fields and water towers.

Lacey Friday-Graves and Miss Phoebe Bean have safely returned from the windy city. I talked a lot of shit while I was there. I was worried about whether or not Johnny Switchblade would take good care of Ohio while we weren't in it.

A lot of discoveries were made on this road trip that link Bean and I together like conjoned twins that share genitals. We do not like car sickness caused by Harvard graduates who can not drive. We do NOT like the band Rock Star Club. We love staying in hotels. We love to order room service. We love to rent pay-per-view movies. We do not like walking long distances...especially in bad shoes. We do not like the sweltering heat. We do not like 95 degree days where people won't turn on their car air conditioning. We do like swimming. We love sailors, especially the ones we gawked at on Navy Pier. We do not like paying $7.00 to ride a ferris wheel. We do not like Vegan pancakes. We do like "Ed TV". We do not like blisters on our feet. We do like Owen. We do not like driving around in circles on the express way. We do like to be in our pajamas. We like to listen to tunes and eat candy in the car. We do like having a cooler full of PBR (sure, we didn't drink it but we liked knowing it existed). We do not like to pay for parking at our hotel. We do like gifts (Harvard snow globe and mini rock-em sock-em robots). We do like being on "The Skyway". We do not like paying tolls but do like to say "Hey, Patrick Ewing, nice shot". We do love being back in Ohio. Most of all, we love being spontaneous. And we love each other. Thanks for being exactly the kind of selfless friend I needed this weekend and in fact, this whole week. I salute you.

"Purrrrrrrrfect". If you know, you know, and that makes me happy.

Will the weekend ahead be as nuts? Pussyfoot practice on Wednesday. Honkeytonk Damnation (Aaron Weiss is my physical dreamboat, heart-go-throb) and Wailin' Elroys on Thursday. OOPS! I guess there is no This Moment/Human Eye show on Friday so I may get a break! Unless someone wants to make plans in which case, I am sooooo down for it! Tom's birthday BBQ to Benny Penney's house warming BACK to Tom's birthday BBQ on Saturday. Pussyfoot practice on Sunday. Will I survive the insantiy or mutate into a Communist lovin' Mantis? Stay tuned for more details. Your local news is next.

Walk the line blindfolded. Climb the tree barefooted.

Yesterday morning, my status as a single gal become official and if I said I didn't cry and was stone-faced and tuff, that would be a lie. Seeing him up on the stand saying that he did, in fact, want our marriage to be terminated pretty much ripped my heart out Indian Jones-style (I wish I could think of another heart-ripping-out-of-chest reference but that's all I've got). So I cried a little but I never looked him in the eyes...I did look at his horrible new method of trimming his sideburns. That monstrosity was comforting.

You know what else was comforting? Getting a block of cheese with a FACE on it! Queen La Tata made me a "cheesy" gift basket with a variety of crackers, some tea, and my favorite, cheese! I appreciate it more than she will ever know (unless she reads this and then POW...she knows). If cheese is a consolation prize, I'm getting my heart broken more often! Oh snap.

So my first weekend plan, as you know, was to stay in bed and watch greaser movies and cry and pout. Eat some greasey chinese food. Never shower. Never get out of my pajamas. That evolved into transporting my movie marathon to the motor city so I had some company...but said company had Saturday afternoon plans which really put a wrench in my "do nothing but pity myself weekend". So how am I spending my first weekend as a single gal?

Miss Phoebe Bean, queen of spontaneous and outrageous decisions, has booked us a hotle room in Chicago WITH a pool and we are leaving directly from work. We are going to swim and drink and eat and rock and sleep and repeat until check out time on Sunday. Even as I packed a purple suit case, I coudn't believe we were just going to hit the road on such short notice! However, I think it's what I need and I trust her judgement about my emotions. Yesterday she encouraged me to spend the night offereing Sex and the City and mac-n-cheese (which morphed into Taco Bell). I felt much better than expected considering the horror of a morning I had. So Chicago, here we come! Still boggles my mind.

And as an ending note, I'll say that I think the Pussyfoot show in July is just going to be nutty. We've doubled out amount of songs and I think everyone is a little bit worried about us pulling it off, myself included. Hopefully it all comes together in the end...or before the end because we'll all be sweating bullets about it. Stay tuned to see if The Pussyfoot Girls all manage to keep their heads on!

If you want to scream, scream with me!

COUNTDOWN TO THE HEAVY REBEL WEEKENDER 2005



Heavy Rebel "To Do" List

-book a hotel room (preferably the one our entire crew is staying at which is within walking distance of the Millenium Center so we don't have to worry about drunk drivers...we can all be drunk walker/rockers together)...check!
-buy fringed cowgirl skirt and wrench halter top so you can get gussied up...check!
-purchase tickets for at LEAST Friday and Saturday as Sunday will be played by ear depending upon Kings of Nuthin's time slot.
-start doing crunches so you can wear your wrench halter top without feeling...soft...check!
-get a freakin' oli change and have the "check engine" light examined.
-vacuum car out and remove junk from trunk.
-either fix MP3 player and make mixes or rape Bean of her Ipod for the 7 hour drive.
-ask boss to be let out super, mega early on Friday to make it there in plenty of time...check!
-drive to Winston-Salem, documenting the entire trip via digital camera.
-rock out to Lords of the Highway (you have to show Winston-Salem that you're their biggest and most loyal fan), Seven Shot Screamers, Sasquatch and the Sickabillys, Psychocharger, Kings of Nuthin' and MORE!!
-drink as much PBR and Yuengling as your little body can handle.
-dance your pants off.
-try and flirt with Tommy Bellevue once your liquid courage has kicked in.
-make some fine memories with Miss Phoebe Bean and your sis, Little Jen.
-walk down the street to the room singing loudly and stumbling and tripping because that's what drunk kids from Ohio do when they're rockin', rollin', and wearin'a cowboy hat!
-buy an Elvis bust from Derek.
-try not to throw up the entire way back to Cleveland!
-post picture on your website to let the whole world know that you had more fun than they did.
-see fireworks and celebrate your independence (even if you've been accused of hating freedom).

Did I miss anything?

I'm deliberately deliberating.

When I was 19, I painted a gigantic Crimson Ghost on a a wall of my house to surprise the guy I lived with. It was about a bazillion degrees that day but I didn't mind. I couldn't wait to see the look on his face. When that guy checked out and the guy who would wind up being my husband checked in, we painted over it...poorly. Now it's been professionally spackled, sanded, and covered up and you would never even know it was there. I am living in an empty house for the next month and it's starting to wear on my nerves. I went to where all of my stuff is being stored and it was like Christmas! Oh, my HUGE fork and spoon! Oh, my milkshake maker! Oh, my Elvis-Ape bust! And then I think, how did things get like this? This empty house holds a lot of memories...a majority rotten but the nice ones snuck in there. I hope they outlive the rotten ones.

Went to court yesterday and there was a slight paperwork malfunction that will resolved in less than 5 minutes on Thursday morning. I couldn't even look him in the eyes...I was filled with fury and rage like an angry ninja. Well, like ANY ninja, I suppose. But I didn't cry. And I wore hight heels. And my hair looked good. Whole situation is still rotten beyond compare though.

Upon arriving to work, I thought I might have accidentally gone to a luau in my honor! I could see the "CONGRATS LACEY" written on my cubicle window as I walked up, as well as the pink and green hibiscus/palm trees dangling from the ceiling. Their wasa garland of tikis and flowers, additional tikis hanging from the ceiling, a "Just Divorced" sign as well as one that simply said "Congratulations". I got a tiki shot glass on a chain, a stuffed octopus named Opie, and a sticked that read "Beautiful and Single". And the entire cubicle was covered in plastic monster finger puppets, smiley face guys, and orange fish!! Phoebe really went all out! Above and beyond. And I even got a gift! Who knew that you get presents for divorcing (my mom also got me a Carmen Miranda cookie jar)? Along with two tiki drink cups with swizzle straws, I got Jessica simpson edible body spray and 3 shot glasses. My mind was throughly occupied with the Divorce-a-Hula Luau! When the guys from work bailed on taking me out, she stepped in in the best fashion by taking me to The Melting Pot!!! I was as round as round could be! Happy. Occupied.

And then it hit me. It was like sun-downers. I suddenly felt 2 feet tall and sick to my stomach. Phoebe dropped me at my car which I knew she didn't want to do but I wasn't up to going out and she didn't seem happy with staying in. The ride home was long and lonely. Crawled in bed (in my air conditioning...sweeeeeeeeet) with my fat cats and watched Futurama. Even that didn't help. Today, I just feel like an empty shell. Not happy. Not sad. Just...nothing.

But I apprecitae to the MAX every comment or message I recieved yesterday. Thanks to friends and strangers alike who tried to help me keep my head on. After my weekend pout fest (since I do have to see that fool again on Thursday and then NEVER again), I promise that this will all be a thing of the past, never to resurface in this blog again. I am going to thouroughly detox!

I'm allergic to you. Be allergic to me.

Woke up this morning in Detroit Rock City after a night of rock-n-roll, cheap beer, and shenanigans. From the second I woke up, I was unhappy to be there. It wasn't the company I was with and it wasn't the unbearable heat and it wasn't even the stink of the city. I started the day with a heavy load on my head which, in my mind, I couldn't deal with properly unless I was in my own state. I could have had an enjoyable afternoon in the motor city...the opportunity was there, but I was somewhere else.

I'm getting divorced tomorrow morning at 9:30.

I am still in a state of shock about the whole thing. It's so unreal to me. I married this guy because I thought we were the perfect match, an unstoppable pair, a team...but I guess I was wrong. I hate being wrong. I hate it more than rabies. I am terrified, to be quite honest. Besides the fact that I still don't know what court house to go to (which is just plain annoying), I can't imagine having to sit in the same room with him. When we had to go to the notary, it took all the strength I could muster not to push him down to the ground. It still sets my mind in whirl-mode that I loved someone so fucking much and then hated them equally as much with the snap of a finger. It took him 10 seconds to ruin my life. If it turns out that he was, in fact, the love of my life, I will be highly disappointed and probably move to Guam.

I know we had problems, issues, got married too young, too fast, but we had love and an insane bond that no one else I knew at the time had. I would have fought tigers to save it.

I just know that if the judge asks us if we did everything in our power to try and work it out, I'll say yes but in my heart, I'll know I am lying. He didn't try at all. He just spent a month hating me and being unreasonably mean to me...punishing me.

Tomorrow, I am expecting some entertaining surprises in my cubicle at work (I was tipped off...I wonder if they'll pass a card around like they do at birthdays) and after I make it through my first work day as a single gal, I will hit my first bar as a single gal (I prefer 'single' to 'divorced'). So while today I may be too busy to really pout and feel sorry for myself, I have an entire weekend of wallowing planned. Since my left and right crutches (Miss Phoebe Bean and Johnny Switchblade) will both be out of town, I am going to have a movie marathon with the theme "My Next Husband Will Be a Hot Greaser". I am going to stay in my cowboy pajamas from the time I get home from work on Friday until the Sunday cookout at my parents...I am going to drink as many cans of Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper as possible and eat as much cheese as I can afford...I am probably going to cry a lot because the goal is to get it all out now so I can start my new (and smoke free!) life...I will be watching the following films (in no particular order...feel free to make additional suggestions via comments):

-Grease 1
-Grease 2
-Bye Bye Birdie
-The Outsiders
-Cry Baby
-Lords of Flatbush
-Shag

I don't care if that sounds like a pathetic way to spend a weekend. It's what I have to do, and I'm not against having visitors. I just don't think people get how hard this is for me...maybe because I make jokes, I'm not sure. But it IS hard. I don't like hearing people talk about why marriages fail and about divorce like they know how it feels because it KILLS ME. I didn't WANT to get divorced. I was in LOVE. I just wish that people could be a tiny bit more understanding because unless you've gone through it, you have no clue how painful and sad and humiliating and unbeliveable this is. I'm quite fragile right now and I need all my friends to support me and not brush off how I'm feeling. I could use a few more hugs for the next week or so. It's not a lot to ask.

But for the record, I know this is the right thing to do.

I am not in love anymore...but I am hurting.

Think of me tomorrow. Pray that I don't cry.

There's lots of filth in the scene.

So while I thought our show last night was a fucking success, and Sasquatch would back me up on this, someone in the audience had a different opinion. According to this bleach blonde broad who had the gall to toss a beer on Bishop Penithor, we were "anti-feminist nazi bitches". She flipped me off and told me we sucked as I stood their rather amused yet dumb founded stating, "I'm just a girl having a good time".

Her reasoning behind the hatred: we weren't offensive enough. Well, shoot me down...I didn't get the memo about the goal of our project being to offend. She blathered on about the rules and regulations of being "an artist" and how if one of the gals inparticular would have bent over, spread her ass cheeks, and shown off her rectal entrance, we would have been a hit in her eyes....and someone SHOULD have hit her in the eyes. Instead, Ashleigh Adventure, my new hero, gave her a strict talking to/screaming at. Those are 10 minutes of her life that she'll never get back and I salute her!

*Interruption: Sasquatch dedicated a song to me and called me 'sexy' and where was I? In the can, that's where. I have no sense of timing. Sheeeeeeeeeeeeesh.*

I know this whole thing shouldn't bother me but after our mediocre show with Deke Dickerson, I thought we really pulled it together and did a bang up job! We were all floating on air, swelling with pride. And I understand that not everyone is going to like us...some people will think we're stupid, ugly, untalented...some will think they can do it better or some will just be jealous that they don't have the balls to do it at all. We are NOT full of ourselves by any means! We just wanted something fun to do to spend time together and be involved in our scene as none of us are going to be band material any time soon. Regardless, it bothers me because I'm the one who got flipped off and because I just don't get her logic. If I hated a band, I sure as Hell wouldn't get so damn riled up that I would flip them off and tell them they suck. There's something underlying that's causing her ballistic feelings.

She was very protective of her opinion, and she has every right to have one...if it made any sense at all. Sasquatch told me that we really ruled and should take all this negetive energy and channel it for our next show so we can rise above it. I'm going to try my best to do that. And many crowd members raved about us (I know we're not the BEST but we're fun and have fun and that's what counts)...but as my boss always says, "One 'OH SHIT' cancels out one hundred 'ATTA-BOYS'". Though we got multiple rave reviews, this one girl's jack-ass-ness ruined my evening. I couldn't even stay for all of Lords of the Highway. I just wasn't feeling up to being a super fan. I'm overflowing with irritation.

But I did give Karen the nickname Potsie...and she hates it...and it's sticking...so that makes me a happy clam.