I said I wish I could walk like that.

MY HARD DRIVE TOOK A DIVE!

It's true. That's why I've been so absent from cyber-space and I apologize. You can all feel free to gut me the next time to run into me in public. I prefer to be gutted by a make-shift weapon though. A shiv. A shank. A board with a rusty nail in it. Whatever. It's always more meaningful when it's hand-made.

But the point of all this is that hard drives are by no means cheap. And seeing as I just moved into a new house (we'll get to that though because it is importante, as my Spanish speaking friends would say), I don't have many spare pennies. Not to mention that I have yet to pay my stupid speeding ticket (I still hate you, 280). So, I am computerless for the time being which is much like being armless. I'm behind in documenting my daily babble and way behind in my pictures of the day which, let's face it, are hil-fucking-arious. Just try and deny it. Hopefully, I'll be back in the swing of things before you can dress up like a caterpillar and breakdance in 2 major cities.

I ate some strange Japanese candy on a dare yesterday. I'm pretty sure it poisoned me. I won $5.00 though and the wrappers have pictures of seals with sushi ties to the their heads. One sushi seal is humping it's previously beaten sushi wife. I couldn't even make this shit up.

FUCK YOU, KENT OHIO, AND ALL YOUR CRETINS!

I am now the proud inhabitant of The Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral (or OK Corral, for short...and for obvious reference purposes)!!! God, it's good to be a Cleveland resident. Screw you, hippies! Screw you, Rt. 43! Screw you, Zephyr!

My house is fan-fucking-tastic. I am in love with it! I have a porch and a yard and a basement and fancy built ins! I love sleeping in my new room! I love bathing in my new tub! I love making weird circa 1970s-inspired porn movies in my attic! Whoops...that's a lie. Disregard. Miss Phoebe Bean and I have been busting humps to get the new digs in order and I've gotta say, I'm DAMN proud of us. It feels like a home. I've decided to name a room after each Pussyfoot Girl: The Queen La Tata Terrace. The Tootsie Pop Powder Room. The Classy Chassis Spooky Cellar. The Mamacita Mess Hall. The Sassy Sourpuss Sex-a-Torium. The Maggie Maalox Art Attic. Brilliant.

We will be having a Helluva house warming once things are in order and we've not getting lost in the maze of boxes. You'll all be invited. Dress to impress. And let me give the biggest THANK YOU, YOU FUCKING RULE to Johnny Switchblade who did hours upon hours of manly work. Seeing him sweat was impressive. He should enter a sweating contests. But due to moving, I DID miss Nurse Shark's graduation celebration. CONGRATULATIONS!!! You did it and I am very proud of my little shark!

As for anything else...I'm really looking forward to the weekend. I'm having a visitor from the Motor City and we have some fun things planned. A party, trying out the bar on my street (Happy Hour from 11-7), painting my room, dinner at a Japanese joint, the drive-in, some furniture shuttling, and a show. Whew! I'll need a weekend to recover from my weekend! Regardless, I'm looking forward to it. It's certainly a mood adjuster.

Have you been overloaded, y'all?

Just wanted to nourish you until the next time you get fed.

Where you lead, I will follow.

I have become awfully emo. I caught "the emo" some time yesterday and haven't quite been able to shake it. There are fancy goldfish swimming in my brain and it makes me feel quite off-balance. I'm hoping this is just one of those "come and go" type of things that's caused by stress...because I AM stressed out. I am moving in a few days and barely have anything prepared and no one to help me...today is the last Tuesday I will sleep in my Kent apartment...I am up to my vagina in debt and afraid I'll never escape, I have a Pussyfoot show coming up to prepare for, my boyfriend who is two well-groomed sideburns, two infectious dimples, and six feet of comfort lives what might as well be a gazillion miles away, and, let's be honest, I don't deal well with stress.

I might even like the latest Alkaline Trio album.

Or I might at least want to make out during it.

Do you wanna see what's in my trunk?

Forgive me for my late reply and please stay tried and true blue. My computer wildly crashed in the middle of the night last week (hot dog...that made me mad) and I am in the process of moving (goodbye Kent, HELLOOOOO CLEVELAND) so the next few days with be nutty, just like Charo, and a little on the rough side...but I'll do my best.

In the meantime, I had the best first date EVER on Friday night. Don't be jealous.

I supposedly looked really good (heart-go-throb) which was my goal for the first date festivities. I am in love with the Magic Stick. And I am in love with drinking and laughing and being on the guest list for the Hank III show (yeah, I was a plus one, ka-pow!). What could top that off? Drunken bowling and running from imaginary cops, laughing like drunken maniacs the whole time. Tops. Total tops.

I went to Detroit for a first date.

I left with a boyfriend.

Only so many tears you can cry.

I am drunk.

Semi-drunk.

At this very moment! On a work night!

So I'm not drunk. I'm just silly. I love PBR. And I love having 9 hours to sleep it all off. I just wish I could sleep off a little bit of yesterday, a day or two from last week and a few hours from the weekend before.

And I wish I understood boys because I DON'T!

I also wish I had an endless supply of people to talk on the phone to. All I want to do right now is talk about nothingness on the phone.

And I want to get on a plane! Maybe not at this second but soon! I want the excitement of a plane ticket in my hand and knowing that someone will be waiting for me at bagage claim for a really dramatic hug and kiss episode. I want to throw my bags down and run to someone...someone who is excited to see me and who throws down a make-shift sign with my name on it.

But for now...

...I'm going to eat cookies in my bed, in my pajamas, with the Gilmore Girls.

Until something mroe dramatic comes along.

Well, its tough...so tough...to crush on you.

I have a crush on a boy.

I don't like it.

The interesting thing about this crush is that it's very atypical. We had our first dates (not so much dates as hangouts...drinking, talking, watching movies, busting each other's chops, laughing it up), first sleep overs, first kisses, first...well..you know. All of that junk that you get at the beginning of a relationship (not that this IS a relationship) has come and gone...and it's comfortable now. But I guess that's where "real" stuff starts. Not that I'm a relationship expert...let the record show that in great, big, black letters. The kind that blink on and off obnoxiously.

And we've had a bad track record. The circumstances and the situation itself are not exactly ideal. But there's something about him...and this...that totally puts me at ease. When I'm sad, I turn to him. When I'm excited, I turn to him. When I'm totally insane, I turn to him. He's a damn good friend and we click something fierce. I wish I had more faith in it but it's been such a rollercoaster and there is so much physical distance between us. But the emotional distance...no gaps. So I have a crush on him...again...or so it seems.

And it's abso-fucking-lutly terrifying the bejesus out of me.

I don't know if I'm ready to give my heart away. I'm not sure I'm ready to let anyone into it. I'm not sure anyone would WANT to be in such a rotten, black, cold place anyway. But the prospects sure are exciting, I'll tell you what.

It'll be interesting to see how this ends.

This weekend has been a long one. I feel slightly burnt out. Worked a long day Friday and headed straight to Detroit where I had a bitchin' time with Bean and Eddie. Red Hot Poker Dots were amazing and were such fine people. And of course, Koffin Kats were great, but they usually are. It's nice to be pals with a band that I actually like. I don't have to fake enthusiasm. I also don't have to fake the big black bruise on my knee that came from rockin' out to "2084" and "Sleep" along with others. Some pretty entertaining photos document the evening. I was draggin Saturday for my family event as well as the Shoe-Lanes luau...which DID rock! There was a pinata, tunes, Trader Tom's Red Lava Fizz, and a special announcement (congrats Yanitos!). I love my friends. My friends feel me up. And today, Pussyfoot practice.

Maybe at some point, I'll actually get to see my apartment again.

Mama misses you, kitties!

I ain't gonna take you to the record hop.

Yesterday, I was hit in the chest with a bird.

It flew right into me. I guess it could have been a bat...I COULD have rabies...but I'm pretty sure it was a bird that was the size of a baseball, and FELT like a baseball being wailed into my chest. And if you know me, you know I hate birds. Needless to say, the new neighbors are now well aware that they live next to the town nutcase, but not for LONG...as they are also aware since I announced to them, "I am moving!" before I slammed the door. I had to lay in my bed with an ice pack fashioned out of a bag of frozen stir fry on my chest, comtemplating just HOW, exactly, this stuff happens to me. It hurts when I breathe. Oops...I left out the part where I screamed my head off. Probably for the best.

And today, I looked pretty at work. That's the word on the street.

I could tell an entire story about how I got asked out on a date but that will probably just make me want to smoke, move to Guam, or begin wearing a special outfit co-designed by Damian Detroit and myself which included ringed tube socks, fuzzy slippers, a leather jacket, and possibly a cowboy hat. Maybe I'm blowing the whole thing out of proportion but the fact that I wanted to say no but instead, danced around the subject, upsets me. I want to be firm but I don't want anyone's feelings to be hurt. I've been disappointed in the past when I've been rejected flat out without any consideration of my feelings...I'm just not good at coming up with a response that's considerate but honest on the spot. Instead, I come out sounded confused and goofy...very attractive, I'm sure. Bah. Dating is for the birds.

Stupid birds.

And don't forget to take a peek!

I kicked Charlie's motorcycle just to get his goat.

To make a long and drama-filled story short (too late...and impossible for me), I suddenly became brave and went to the Kill the Hippies CD release show, had my foundation totally rocked by The Feelers, heard a 'song' called "Eat the Afterbirth", drank too many tallboys, rocked, danced, and rocked (in that order), felt uncomfortable knowing my ex-husband, ex-sister-in-law, and ex-friend were in attendence but only for 4.57 minutes...not enough to care too much, mingled, mingled with people I wasn't even sure would want to mingle with me, totally relaxed, crashed at Sugar's house, had a chocolate chip pancake brunch with some of the O.K. Sharks, help solve a Pussyfoot crisis, lounged with Miss Phoebe Bean and, well, here I am. And there you have it. Another weekend noted for posterity.

Speaking of posterity----> check out my picture of the day at Rock-n-Roll Soul Saver.

From about Friday night on, I have felt like I'm on the verge of tears. To be honest, I have cried a few times. At one point, I found myself on my kitchen floor with my head in my hands...sobbing. It comes and goes, but mainly, I feel like I have a knot in my chest. It's like carrying around a huge rock and I feel like the only way I can get rid of it is to cry. The wailing, sobbing, hiccupping, verge-of-suicide cry. But that only soothes me temporarily. And when good things happen, like a boy makes a super fantastic plan to cheer you up that involved sneaking alcohol into a movie and having a cab cart our drunk asses home, or someone is actually disappointed that you left without saying good-bye and uses the phrase, 'I am sad'...it's also only temporary relief. So I'm making a "Remember NOT to Kill Yourself Because the Following Things Are Good" top 10 list to remind me that things will get better (right?) eventually:

1. Moving in 2 freakin' weeks!!!
2. PFG show at Lime Spider.
3. Possible PFG show with Hillbilly Varmints, Sasquatch, and more (?).
4. Luau at the Shoe-Lane's this weekend.
5. Red Hot Poker Dots this weekend.
6. Ben and Lisa's wedding.
7. Niagara Falls, mother-truckers!
8. Tim Sullivan, temporarily back on US soil.
9. Hot Rod Hula Hop!
10. Seeing Kings of Nuthin' two times in September!

If you want to help make me happy, leave comments, sign my guestbook, check out my picture page, check out my friends' pages, leave them comments...

...but if you DON'T want to make me happy, make sure you tell me several times at work how bad I look in the pants I'm wearing to the point that I ACTUALLY change my pants because I feel so uncomfortable. Fine, so my ass looks like a pancake in them... but I DO have big hips! It's no just the pants! I am allowed to have bad days and dress scrubby. I can't wear tight pants every single day or my uterus will try to escape!

Amen.

There was the ever-present football player rapist.

Decisions, decisions.

I have two shows to choose between for tonight's plans: Lords of the Highway in Youngstown or Kill the Hippies at the Beachland. Each have their own set of pros and cons. My original plan was to hit the Kill the Hippies CD release after Psychocharger (but there are rumors in the mix about that convention...hmmm) in order to support Uncle Ben who is putting it on...but then I would have to suffer through the uncomfortable aspects of the evening since my ex-husband and most likely some of his friends will be there. Eventhough he murdered out marriage, I'll some how be looked at like the bad guy...or at least like I have leproscy.

But I really can't avoid places I want to go just because this situation stinks like last week's trash. So I should probably just suck it up and go. He's not going to talk to me so hopeuflly we can just maintain distance (wow, this person was my HUSBAND and here I am, planning to avoid them...amazing). I know that sucks for people who want to talk to both of us but they'll just have to suck it up. This is way harder for us than for anyone else...and it's way harder for me than him. But will I just be setting myself up to feel crummy and hurt and low and lousy? I'm not sure I can handle that with the way things have been going recently...my emotions may win out and I may start smashing heads with my own bare hands.

So that's my situation and my day will no doubt be ruined as I pull my hair out deciding what I want to do. I don't want to cry. I don't want to get in a fight. I don't want to get drunk and blather. I don't want to be treated like shit when I don't deserve it. But I don't want to take the easy way out...I can't avoid drama. I don't want to back down. I want to be with my friends. I want to support Ben. I want to see Kill the Hippies. I want to hang with Switchblade. It should be a clear choice really...but it's killing me.

Chasin' pretty women cause it makes me feel better.

The past few days have been what I like to call "the pits".

All day at work, eventhough I was laughing and flirting and being my usual goonie self, I was on the verge of tears and not just little, tiny, useless tears. Sobbing, alligator-esque tears accompanied with wailing and maybe even some intense hiccuping and red, swollen faced humiliation. I hate to cry. I've cried enough this year.

Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's something in the air. Maybe it's the decrease in spring fever. Maybe it's just that sometimes, life sucks. That's not witty or clever or even interesting...it's just TRUE.

Things started rolling down hill on Monday, I guess. I'm not going to go into detail because details are not important. I'll just say I was jazzed about going somewhere and doing something and it turned out to be awkward and slightly uncomfortable. I understand that people have bad days and get stressed and have the weight of the whole on their shoulders...but there's nothing quite like driving long distance just to be with someone and feeling more alone than when you were ACTAULLY alone. Wah wah wah, I hear myself.

And then there was the memorial service for Josh. I cried...to a video memorial featuring pictures of him. My lip and chin started quivering and I froze. I wanted to be the one NOT to cry. I blamed it on the fact that Chicago was playing...Peter Cetera can make me bawl like no other. I hope they bought it. I know they didn't. The more Becky cried, I wanted to cry. And when Tim cried...watching his shoulders bounce up and down, that big teddy bear or a man...I died inside a little bit. It was horrific. But I was the family body guard. At one point, Becky's mother even walked by and made two fists in a sort of "you better be ready in case there's trouble" fashion. And I was ready...to defend their honor. I would have gone to jail, I love those two women that much. I am disgusting at the behavior of some of the people there. Some people should be ashamed. At least I know that the worst part is over for Becky and her mom. And I know that Josh had a fork in his right hand...or won Waterloo...or something (wink).

So you'd think getting home after all this driving and crying and disappointment and hurt would be BOSS because I could crawl in my bed and relax.

Not if you get a fucking video speeding ticket in the flipping mail!!! Stupid 280 with your stupid cameras that gauge your stupid speed and take a stupid picture of your stupid license plate! Damn you to HELL! I could have just set $100 on fire. At least that would have been rebellious. I went to bed in an angry fucking huff, that's what I did. Slept like Hell. Woke up all in knots...all worked up...all upset.

But on the upside...I DID coreograph a 4 girl routine (in my head) to "Beyond the Sun" by Sasquatch and the Sick-a-Billies for the next Pussyfoot show! I think it's going to be really fanastic. Lots of moves...will take lots of practice...but it will pay off and look really sharp and tight. Lisa seemed really into it which makes me proud. And working on the PFG website is also occupying my mind, so thank God for my hobby.

And thank God for going to the white trash buffet with Bean.

And thank God for the Cosby sweater conversation with Matt Argyle.

I don't want to feel like a sad cat who was black as coal..even her soul.