Well it's too late to say you're sorry.

Early on in my relationship with the guy who would end up being my ex-husband much to my chagrin, we were laying in bed at my apartment as we had done from night one on. He was telling me that he had recieved free passes to Six Flags/Geauga Lake as a tip at work. He was pretty drunk, having downed several rum-n-cokes with little to no coke, which was a big oops for this kid. The important thing was not that he ended up tossing his cookies from motio skickness, wink wink. It was that before he did, he told me I had to go to Geauga Lake with him because I was his person. "You are my person", he kept saying over and over. Something on television reminded me of this as two girls discussing emergency medical contacts were calling each other "my person". I want to be someone's person again.

And I want to be a brunette, which I will be in ten minutes.

Monday may have been one of the worst days I've had in a long time and it taught me (I am trying to learn something from every day to keep from going batty) that I should never get my hopes up again because they are likely to be dashed in the most disturbing and painful of ways. What else did I learn on Monday? That I am, in fact, a whiskey drinker again for the first time in my life since the Ray Terry days. I learned that I love kissing and hand holding more than anything in the world and the first runner-up is a pair of sad blue eyes. I learned that I am probably falling in love with someone I know I shouldn't but that I can't stay away from. I learned that I can still violently cry myself to sleep at night and that doing so prevents hangovers and also reminds me that after the Ezra aftermath, I am still alive. I learned that despite how fucked up and lousy and inconvienient things are, someone, somehow, has room for me in their life.

Sometimes I sit at home and wonder if she's sitting at home thinking of me and wondering if I'm sitting at home thinking about her...or am I just wasting my time?

Guess you didn't want something new.

Looks like it wasn't a brain tumor. But whatever it was...I just killed it.

The prettiest green eyes anywhere.

FINALLY...my pictures of the day are all caught up. Don't jerk off to them.

Going to Akron tonight to see an Elvis impersonator that the cool kids can't stop talking about. Have to work at 5:30a so I'll have to put beer on the back burner.

:::snicker:::

I'm either falling in love or getting a brain tumor. What does a brain tumor feel like?

Don't think that it bothers me at all.

Happy Birthday, Lisa Marie! You don't look a day over 16!

Speaking of age...I am so old. I feel like my entire days are consumed by work or preparing for work or recovering from work. I am literally awake but not working for like 3 hours out of the day before I think it's bed time. The fact that it's after 10:00 and I'm still sitting here typing really upsets me and I'm starting to feel nervous. I should have been in bed like an hour ago.

In all actuality, an hour ago I should have been driving to the Beachland to celebrate Lisa's 29th birthday at the This Moment in Black History show. I'm sure Johnny will probably be mad at me for not being there or something. We're practically strangers now which is disappointing. But I just can't hack week day shows or outtings anymore. Even if I forced myself to go because I wanted to be with Lisa on her special day...or with anyone on any occasion..., I would have been a mess...chekcing my watch, yawning, not enjoying very much, not being very chatty.

I need to take Bean's road and just NOT make week day plans until the day OF so that I don't put myself in the position to break plans. I feel run down and exhausted after work most days and hate letting people down when I can't be present or entertaining. Say I'm not a rocker. I don't care.

I'm just plain...old.

So old that I get excited when my parents come over to take measurements for certain home improvements and start discussing lawn mower prospects with me. Fuck, I DID hug the flipping washing machine when I moved in, for crying out loud.

Now on the weekends, I rule the school inside and out, and you can't tell me other wise. I make up for what I lack during the week ten fold and then some when the working week is done.

From 5:00p on today, I felt like I was going to have a nervous fucking breakdown with tears and all. I didn't even really talk to anyone about it because I'm pretty sure certain people who used to care couldn't care less. I think my parents are worried that I'm pregnant. I'm worried about...lots.

I need a high five from someone special who hates to give them.

If I had those golden dreams of my yesterday.

Who has the internet hooked up? Oh yeah...I'm back!

LaVitra, Ruby Sex, Sharky O'Shannahan, Double A Schneids McDougal, and Mini-Putt went on a trip to Niagara Falls and rocked Fun Street all weekend. On this trip, they brought:

Assholes, beer, cooties, ding-dongs, errections, fiddlesticks, gorillas, Hoboken (New Jersey), igloos, Jimbo, kangaroos, Lisa, money, nonsense, orgasms, poop, Queer-Bait LaVitra, Rumplestiltskin, titties, Ulrich comma Lars, Viagra, Winger comma Kip, xylophones, Yes 45s, and a Zoolander DVD.

While on this trip, the five pointed society of F-U-N consumed drinks out of fishbowls, ate yummy food, drank A LOT, emptied an entire bar with their antics, won $60 on a slot machine with a coin that wasn't even THEIRS, made a drug deal, drank A LOT, went to Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum, bought 1" souvenir buttons, stopped at DQ for peanut-free parfaits, saw the Falls, swam and hung out in the hot tub, drank A LOT, met Jack of Jack's Cantina, asked a waiter for a lap dance, felt each other up, went to the Rock Star Wax Museum which was focused on teeth and eyes (what did they do to you Keith Richards??), drank A LOT, and had a squeeling good time.

I'm sure there are ten bazillion stories I could tell but I am a tired pup. I had a late night, unexpected visitor when I returned to the states (thank JESUS they let me back in) and consumed far too many carbs as well as malted hops and barely this weekend. But I had a fan-fucking-tastic time, one that may not be able to be paralelled. That's a palce you go to with friends. You don't need any romantic hassles when you're busy rubbing a buddah's belly for good luck or sitting in a gigantic chair or slugging back Pavorati shots or hitting your head on a sign or pretending to be KISS!

Long live Sharky O'Shannahan and the rest of the Ol' Canada (totally temporary) Sharks!

Never to be mine no matter how I try.

I have paperclips holding my hair up. Before that desperate hair tacking technique, I was told I looked "absolutely gorgeous" today. It's so weird to look someone in the eyes for 10 seconds and not feel like you have to look away or look at the floor.

In a few short hours, I will be invading Canada with the best and bawdiest broads in the bunch (minus a still sickly Miss Phoebe Bean who is as bawdy as they come) to celebrate the "upcoming" wedding of one Miss Lisa Marie. We're going to wreck the great, wide North incognito-style. I will be known for the rest of the weekend...and possibly the rest of my life...as Sharky O'Shannahan. I can have a totally fake personal history and that excites me like nobody's business! I don't have to be divorced. I don't have to be a fairly new ex-girlfriend. I don't have to work in the moving and storage biz (I totally love my job, don't be fooled). I don't have to have a reputation for drinking and smoking too much!!!

This weekend with the gals...LaVitra, Ruby (first name only, that's all she needs), Feathers McGhee and She Who Cannot Be Named But Will Be Named Eventually...is exactly what I need. Gambling, drinking, eating, and the Believe It Or Not museum with my chicks is just what I need to get my head on straight because I'll tell you what, it's been pulling a full-on Exorcist for the apst two days. I just hope they let me cross the border. After all, I HAVE said horrible things about Canada and it's inhabitants in the past!

Have a good weekend all y'all! By Monday, I'll be back in fanatical action, blogging like a beeeeeyotch, and posting pictures like a mad man! That is if I don't get mounted by a mountie first! Yeehaw???

I see you slippin' out the back door, baby.

I think I need a Beer Bottle Mama tattoo. Regardless...

The hiatus is almost officially over, ladies and germs. The Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral will be internet ready this Saturday, folks. Sure, I'll be rockin' and rollin' bachlorette party style in Canada until Sunday, but then you better be ready for a heaping helping of hilarity and HELL! That's a whole lotta H, people. H, as in H-O-T! Enough of that babble though. Starting Sunday, My Pics of the Day will be all caught up. Self-flogging for delay will be administered promptly when I get home.

I've missed you. So much that I commit murder in my sleep.

Our show at the Lime Spider was above and beyond amazing and if you missed it, well, you're just not my friend any more, I guess (Johnny Siwtchblade missed but a little birdie suggested he wasn't a big fan of ours...I don't think he likes me any more any way). Our new routines ("She's a Lady" by Tom Jones, "Boom Swagger" by Murder City Devils, and "Chicken Walk" by Hasil Atkins) went off without a hitch. Our old routines were ridiculous, as always. We had a fantastic crowd response...Dennis A. Bell is by far our biggest fan and even let me slap him in the face for our Cave Catt Sammy number...and most importantly, WE had the most fun of anyone there!!

Lords of the Highway were stellar, per usual, and played "County Fair" without me having to flip my lid, obsessingly requesting via screams! Forty Theives were a ton of fun...good guys all around. The scene has been dying for something like them...guys out there to have fun, not have attitudes. And Vista Cruisers...while it wasn't QUITE the same without their original singer...well, we just wouldn't have met the amazing Josh if it wasn't for them! WE LOVE JOSH! So we were in good company all evening and our wallets (and livers) were fattened by the fine folks at the Lime Spider!

I was just chock full of bravery that night, on stage and off. I mingled, I shook it, and I even confessed to the famous Aaron Weiss that I had sported a decent sized (but totally innocent...guys dating "a sweet girl" are off limits for lovin') crush on him for various respectable reasons. Sure, he'll probably be too scared to talk to me in the future seeing as this was the first lengthy conversation we'd ever had but it was all in good fun. Come on now...tell me you don't find him a rather handsome fellow. Crushes are healthy. I had 76 of them at one point.

Bottom line, the night was fantastic and WE NEED ANOTHER SHOW ASAP! It's such a combination of things...hanging with all these cool musicians, meeting new people, having 1" buttons with our names on them, conquering my stage fright, letting loose my inner nut-case for the whole world to see...I love it. I didn't think I'd make it past the first show since I was slightly emotionally crippled and didn't have much support from the man in my life at the time. Turns out I didn't need HIM. I needed these fantastic GIRLS. I worship the Pussyfoot Girls!!! BOOK US, suckahs!

I have a purple bedroom as of Sunday. Miss Phoebe "Edger" Bean RULES!!!

There are so many things I want to say about something but I just CAN'T. Part of me just wants to rattle on and on and part of me wants to keep it all inside, only sharing my thoughts with Pheoberella because when she's around, I can't shut up. This is all very cryptic, I know. Maybe I'm talking about how I murdered a former lover and his body is in the trunk of my car (would explain the smell). Maybe I'm talking about some elaborate something-or-other that will take place at my housewarming shin-dig. Maybe I'm talking about how I couldn't sleep last night because of how my arms, couch cushions, and favorite pillow smelled. Maybe I'm talking about my plans to become a Christian Scientist, anti-Evolutionist. Maybe it's a combination of these things. Maybe it's nothing! Blah blah blah de da!

Tonight, a bellydancer is coming over to the OKS Corral to teach Mamacita, Ginger Ale (excellent first show, little missy!) and myself how to work our pelvic regions to order to put future PFG crowds into a trance that entices them to show dollars in our cleavge. It's what I was built to learn.

Life is good. Mark this date down on your calendars.

My baby just looks so right!

THE PUSSYFOOT GIRLS
Lime Spider
TONIGHT!
9pm
We go on THIRD...
...right before LORDS OF THE HIGHWAY!

Vista Cruisers
40 Thieves

We'll all be rockin' out!

Life's a joke but what a punchline.

Life is funny. So funny that my sides split wide open and all my gorey and salty guts spill out on the pavement. It's not exactly "funny ha-ha" but it's funny like "my head is on fire and I just saw one million school children doing charity work get hit by a bus". Highs and lows. You can't count on anything to be consistant.

I got felt up by Don Vito this weekend. Almost forgot. That guy digs Cleveland.

Back to my not-so-funny life. Looks like I wasn't ready to be a girlfriend after all. I think I am just going to abandon hopes that I will have relationships in the future. They make my brain hurt. People are confusing. I'm one of them. I think maybe I was ready to date...a step up from whatever was going previously...but not to be someone's steady girl. Because if I was ready, I'd know it (and I'd be soooo lucky to have this particular guy...I know this), and I felt uneasy for whatever reason. I think a couple of stitches holding my heart together popped and the overflow of blood poisoned me.

There was a big blow out. It was quick but it was nasty.

I spent the next morning sort of trudging around like a zombie but my support system (Ol' Kentucky Sharks RULE THE POOL) sent loving invitations to head on out to Geneva-On-the-Lake and I thought, "Why the flipping Hell not?!" and I motored East. Had a grand old time drinking beer (& whiskey...& Jager), eating ketchup sandwiches, dipping my toes in the pool, watching The Diamond Girls do karaoke, playing DDR with Potsie, and showing off my bongo talents around the campfire.

But all fun times must come to an end. Got into a deep ramble session with Uncle Ben and ended up with some leaky fauncets for eyes. 5 steps forward, 10 steps back. I was embarrassed to cry in front of him and even more mortified due to the reasons. I couldn't get much sleep with such a heavy load on my brain. So I travelled home on empty roads while everyone was sleeping. The Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral embraced and comforted me and helped me make up for the sleep I had lost.

The Pussyfoot Girls have a show this Friday at the Lime Spider in Akron with Lords of the Highway, The Vista Cruisers, and The Forty Thieves. It should be interesting since we're debuting a few new routines. I wish I was just a little more excited. I think dress rehearsal on Thursday will help...we had such a good practice last week that the adrenaline was really rushing through my veins. I know it will be alright. Those damn Pussyfoot Girls always seem to pull me out of whatever funk I'm in.

And I can always ask Potsie to do the Snoopy dance.