You just made my heart go throb.

Phoebe had to fire someone today as a means of expressing that we are the management and we deserve some respect! We do not sit at our cubicles and play Barbies while all the dudes run around lifting cars with their teeth and beating on their chests. We keep this big rig rollin' and we can't do that will any flat tires. Good job, Phoebe.

And that's just one snippet in a week's worth of drama at the Circle Shamrock. People around here talk smack. Whether it's to puff themselves up or because they're jealous, I don't know. All I know is that my little boy/girl thing almost got royally effed in the rear because people have to chitter chatter all the time and when they do, they tend to embelish or flat out lie. It's embarrassing. It causes me to cry and make heated phone calls to get the story straight. Somewhere in there, my head falls off, too. And even though I'm assured that everything's swell and this is what's what, it makes me nervous all weekend. I hate drama. I'd like to save it for your mama but I guess it can't be avoided sometimes.

All really is well since I recieved a post-road trip "just checking to make sure you got home OK" ringy dingy. And speaking of "you can Altoona guitar but you can't Altoona fish"...I was terrified that my personal tragedies would interfere with my Altoona, PA Pussyfootin' but the show went off without a hitch. I was afraid of the new metal listenin', Budweiser swillin', jocky crowd but they liked us...even their bleach blonde chickadees. But a word of advice...don't eat Applebee's before you have to wear tight clothes and shake what the devil gave you. It's harder to do than one would imagine as pre-shimmy Applebee's causes girls to get gassy. So hooray for Altoona...and for Hucklebuck Ted since he bought me a shirt when I was in desperate need to free myself from a corset...and a big yeehaw for the Hicks-n-Chicks show ripping Cleveland a new one this upcoming Saturday.

I skipped Mad Sin on Monday. You might say I'm not a rocker.

Sometimes something else comes up that is so enticing, you have to choose what would be more beneficial to you in the long run. I managed to find a way to juggle driving to the Beachland, enjoying 3 beers, rockin' out with my little sis to Lords of the Highway and heading to Garfield to watch Oblongs in a comfy bed with a comfy fella. I had the best of both worlds that night and I have zero regrets about missing Mad Sin. Having a good Monday is an important element in fashioning your week. Besides, I can see Mad Sin again unless Germany evaporates or something. And they're no Demented Are Go, if we're going to get technical.

And yesterday...hot dog! I have one religious diety or another smiling down on me these days. I had a very long, but semi-entertaining, work day and combining that with my night time activies (we just played Twister, I swear!), I was drained. I pictured barely making it to the couch before I passed out. Instead, I left work to hang with my sister, followed by picking up two pizza pies for my Tuesday dinner/fresh new Gilmore Girls with Johnny. Good call. Speaking of calls, out of the clear blue sky, I get a fella phone call...followed by another...followed by another...followed by another (though this one was slightly intoxicated...and I was on pain killers). I was missed.

Combined, they were fantastic chat sessions. I thing things may be fixin' to change...or at least we're getting closer. Something's going on cause I'm gonna meet me some offspring tomorrow night (yes, the bile is rising in my throat). I"m full of nerves but the rush will be good. And it's not something I can avoid. He told me if I was a wreck, I didn't have to come over. But he didn't have to invite me either. So I'm going. I need to conquer some of these fears. I won't be riding any huge roller coasters any time soon but I can meet some kids. They're just kids, right? :::shutter:::


He asked me what I want out of life in the long run.

That would be one Hell of a list.

He says, "I got mine but I want more".

Sometimes, stopping by someone's house ot say "good-night" involves nudity!

Today was a monumental day for little, ol', beer drinkin', curse wordin', pussy footin' me. A day that I am glad I survived without my head rolling off. I think I only got the itchies once and it was a very brief episode. I am proud of myself and to be honest, very excited and giddy.

I met one of the offsping today and SHE LIKED ME!

That's right. I met one of the children that was built from 50% of the man I love's DNA. It was bone-chilling. I was terrified this morning. I got up, got pretty, got confident, but FORGOT to not have a slight hangover! People said things like "She's just a kid" but kids are scary, terrifying monsters in small packages and she could make or break me, in a way. But really, I wanted her to like me and I wanted to like her. She was goofy and so was I. I was my regular retarded self and I guess she must have found that entertaining. I've always been a hit with the 9-14 crowd. She told her pops she liked me. So she's goofy AND smart (wah wah wah...my ego is HUGE today). I was pretty jazzed about that. I even let her hold my Devil Duck...and she made a joke about her chubby dad and how much dessert he ate at the white trash Golden Corral. I can see us having some bonding moments in the future. 1 down, 2 to go.

Items of note from my weekly Wednesday drinking night:

-A black man who was informed I have a boyfriend (I don't but everyone at the bar mistakes our constant, drunken flirtation and touchy-feeliness as a boyfriend/girlfriend thing) told me that he'd be my "bitch" any day of the week. No joke. Then he called me Leslie.

-My drinking buddy started crying when I told her my hypothetical baby name for my hypothetical unborn son. It moved her somehow. She could envision me with little baby ****** or something, I guess. And I think my hypothetical name seems to fit with the hypothetical potential father or something. It was very emotional...for her. And confusing for me and my all-mighty uterus.

-I somehow managed to get an entire group of people I didn't know to refer to me as a big, fat, pickle-eater and I liked it. I really hope I am a big, fat, pickle-eater some day. I thought it was impossible but it was suggested otehrwise last night. Hmmmm.

I have a drive-by date. I need to hose off and slap on a new pair of panties!

Mean and evil. Dirty, rotten.

I'm feeling a little emo. Forgive me.

I'm also feeling frisky and dissed which adds to my emo-ness.

I'm getting ready to take a trip down memory lane and I'm taking you with me. I hope you all went potty before we left Sanityville because this is going to be a whopper! But let me preemptively state that the man that is going to appear in our scheduled flashback is not someone I'm longing for. Just to set the record straight. He was/is a good man and an all-around cool dude but our going separate ways was for the best. Mostly for him because he was never going to figure me out (I pre-warned him of that...I'm trouble) and I was never going to be what he wanted (unless he wanted a partial Schizo scrambling his brain for all of eternity). It's the situations we were in and the ambiance of our whole duo that are sort of adding to my emo symptoms. This is not about my former husband, by the way.

So here we go...now that you know what's what.

I was discussing something with Switchblade which lead to me rambling about some of the men in my life, which I tend to do, and to one inparticular that I KNOW was my best match. We clicked like no other people that I've known in my life (besides Tom and Carol Shoe-Lane) could. He was by far my best match and maybe I'll lable him "the one that got away" some day. I don't know. I hope not because that may lead to me poking myself in the leg with foreign objects, no doubt. Regardless, it's that clicking I've been longing for.

I look back on our "thing" with fondness. No regrets, no ill will. And that's a great feeling. Driving to his house was the best road trip ever and driving home was the longest, most painful roadtrip ever. From the first time I ever went there, CLICK. Instant. And the constant laughing! Tops. I'm not saying I don't click with my guy. I've never felt about anyone the way I do about him. Go ahead and question that. I do every day. There are just things I did with this other guy I wish I was doing now. If he reads this, he'll know who he is when I list things like eating cheesecake in bed at midnight, smoking cigarette after cigarette while watching movie after movie, laying on the bed in 18 bazillion positions while laughing and laughing, wrapping myself around his back while he fiddles with this or that, wearing his hoodie to feel close to him (this applies to Leo...I even got to KEEP his hoodie as it was from his LARGE collection...he's migrated upward and outward). And the phone calls. Hot damn.

Things were just good. I fit in with his friends and his scene and was his biggest supporter and listening ear. And like I said, it's not HIM, it's the situation. I want to be able to call Leo up late at night after a show and talk to him while laughing hysterically, pacing back and forth in a parking lot, eventually laying on the ground, looking at the stars. I want him to want me to do that. I want him to be so excited to get my call and for me to NOT be afraid to call him whenever I want or ask him to hang whenever I want. This "thing" I had with this guy...it was good stuff and I didn't handle it very well. I'm a bad, bad girl. Shame on me.

This is just frustration. I mean, come on ladies. HOLLA IF YA HEAR ME! I need some hollas. I DID get a late night message saying, after a few other drunk messages, that he wanted me next to him. And he DID call me a bazillion times where he laughed alot and he made my day. And he DID make sure to say, "Tell Johnny I said 'Hi'" and he DID hold my hand in front of the Pussyfoot Girls which means A LOT to me. I guess I just wish things were going a bit FASTER. Maybe I should enjoy the slow pace.

He had a girl in his life that just left not too long ago. No one wants to rush into something else no matter how KICK ASS the person is (shameless self-promotion).

One thing that has stayed the same from my previous relationship-y thing to this current "seeing someone" bit is that no matter how much time goes by...a year there, a year here...I still get a chill up my spine when my guy touches my hand or my neck or kisses me or holds my hand. Every hand holding or snuggle session felt like the first one. Then and now.

Maybe I should consider myself lucky and quit bitching.

Bitches bitch just like truckers truck. Yeah, I used "truck" as a verb.

END EMO TRANSMISSION.

And you give yourself away.

My cell phone had to be replaced because it crashed like a computer or so I was informed. I had to not only refill my entire phonebook but download all of my ringtones as well. I figured if I had to go through the trouble of downloading all these rings again, I might want to update some of the ones I was getting tired of. I was having the most difficulty finding one for my best buddy, Johnny Switchblade. We spent some good time together this weekend. I had a lot of fun with him and he qwacked me up. That's totally off the subject though. So rather than get him riled up by assigning Boston's "More Than a Feelin'", I kept hunting. For comedic value, I decided it was between "Jack and Diane" or "I Can't Live With or Without You" as either would be entertaining considering people have told me we'll end up together yet we won't...even if he knows when my menstrual cycle is going to end and feels comfortable enough to fart in front of me ALL THE TIME. Our relationship is a retarded one and I dig it. So I based my choice on which ring actually SOUNDED cooler and went with the U2 hit.

A few minutes ago, I was previewing all my new rings and came to that one and managed, during a 23 second ringtone or whatever, to burst into tears and sink into a feeling of utter low. It has nothing to do with Johnny or the ringtone or U2. I think I'm just losing bits and pieces of my brain these days...or my heart...and something about the ringtone version of that song...all peaceful and low and lacking Bono's somewhat irritating (though I do love that song and would like to shag during it) low tones...made me lose it. I've pretty much been waiting to cry all day. Bono and beer finally brought that to fruition. Am I just depressed these days? Am I just lonely? Am I just a chick? Am I in love with someone that I can't live with (because of him) or without(because of me)? Or is the song just that moving? I am chock full of something rotten and my eyes are red and puffy and my lips are swollen. I never mean to be egotistical but I only consider myself beautiful when I cry.

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you

Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you

With or without you
With or without you

Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I’m waiting for you

With or without you
With or without you
I can’t live
With or without you

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away

My hands are tied
My body bruised, she’s got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away

With or without you
With or without you
I can’t live
With or without you

With or without you
With or without you
I can’t live
With or without you
With or without you

Spendin' my money, callin' everybody 'honey'.

FIRED UP!

That was my attitude yesterday at work. I was surly and nasty and just down right miserable to be around. And I have no idea why. I woke up in the morning next to the man I love after an evening of just good, ol' fashioned hanging out. When he left for work, I slept on pillows that smelled like him and got all dreamy, Tiger Beat style. But by the time I got to work, I was little Miss Crabby Pants, fo' sho'. By day's end, there were three things that helped adjust my mood back to it's regular balance of chipper insanity and sarcastic angst:

1. I pathetically held my arms out at work, asking my fella for a hug. He's not a hugger so I knew if he did this, it would mean something to me. And he didn't even think twice. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders (I was at tummy level, resting my head)and rubbed my back, saying something along the lines of, "You just wanted to rest on your marshmallow". He sure is my huggable marshmallow. For 15 seconds, my life was peaceful.

2. Cocktails! Cocktails with my work gal pal always help. I thought we might hit the joint for one but after 4 beers, a Cherry Bomb, and plenty of snacks and boy talk, I was fairly at ease. I was reminded that things are good...I'm getting to spend plenty of time with my fella, there's a weekend trip planned for June including the two of us as well as work friends, he's showed interest in meeting my family and is comfortable enough to come over and hold my hand around my girlfriends. Not to mention that work is good, I have the coolest friends on the planet, and I'm pretty lucky to have some a rad family so close by. So things are good...and frosty cold beers and super mega good.

3. I got my phone back! It crashed like a computer and Verizon had to give me a brand spankin' new one! How 'bout them apples?? Sure, I lost all my numbers and ringtones but at least I have my life line back. I was retarded without it. I felt like a child lost in a department store, wanting my mommy. It was rough! But my homeostasis has been restored. I am whole again.

And totally in love. I shouldn't be a crab. Crabbiness OVER!

I wanna walk with you, talk with you all night long.

Talking on the phone until way past your bedtime on a "school night" is very nineth grade but god damn, it can turn your entire mood around, making you smile like a douche bag all the live long day. No joke. People probably questioned whether or not I was mildly retarded today because of the mug I had slathered across my face. I'm geeked, man. Geeked to the max.

*pause*

OOOOOOH! I just got a phone call! Right while I was writing this, can you believe that? I was absent and you didn't even know it! I'm now pulling a total Guy Smilie! And if you don't know who Guy Smilie is, we can't be friends any more. Colgate smile from ear-to-ear. As Joe Queer would say, EVERYTHING'S GOING MY WAY!

So it looks as if I have a slumber party date tomorrow after practice which is good news! I like to slumber and I like to party. And it's really good news that I don't have practice or a slumber party tonight because I have stinky dogs. Yep. My feet are stanky and I don't think the opposite sex finds that wildly attractive.

Unless your name is Johnny Switchblade.

P.S. My back hurts.
P.P.S. Drugs are good...for my back.
P.P.P.S. I am not going to Pink Lincolns tonight.
P.P.P.P.S. I didn't go to Joe Buck last night either.
P.P.P.P.P.S. None of that matters. Do you know why????
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. My fella looks like a huggable marshmallow!
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I'm gay.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. I blame the drugs.

But now you know you've seen the worst.

Now not only am I physically screwed, I'm an emotional crab.

I am owed a personal day at work per policy. I try to cash it in for tomorrow seeing as my back feels at least 13% worse today than it did when I defied gravity on my staircase. Sure, they let me to my face but then I am guilt tripped into NOT using it. A little remark is made about my attendance record (in jest, I'm assured) but when I bring it up to the person who said it, he responds with, "Hey, that has nothing to do with me". Which MEANS that someone else...someone upper management-y...doesn't like the fact that I wasn't coming in.

I EARNED my personal day for the quarter! I'm fucking hurting! I swear, you can not be injured or ill around this place and crack a smile or that means you're all healed up! I came in today no matter how bad I was feeling. I cried at my fucking desk and it was even suggested that I go home. Instead, I'll finish the day and not come in tomorrow but NO! That just doesn't fly. I'm sorry if I'm ranting and raving but that's what I do here. I'm especially riled up about how nobody seemed to mind when my roomie didn't come in one day last week because her vacation flights were screwy (not her fault as this is not MY fault). I'm B-R-O-K-E-N! But don't worry. I'll be here bright and early, doing my job, mentally flipping everyone off, pretending everything is fine.

And it WAS fine for a second. I didn't want anyone to look at me as a bad worker or look down on me or whatever. Not that I should care since everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, abuses the system here. It was only after I had time to reflect on it that I was like, "WHAT THE HELL!?!? I should be able to use my personal day whenever I want to! And I want to NOW! Because my back hurts! And I am uncomfortable! And I was CRYING!". I feel like I could cry right now.

I am currently the following :
-mierable
-frustrated
-uncomfortable
-antsy
-anxious
-embarrassed
-riled-up
-furious
-livid
-confused
-upset
-discouraged
-lonely
-in pain
-misdirecting my anger
-unhappy
-sore
-in shock
-crying

Maybe I'll cry all day tomorrow and make everyone uncomfortable.

Broken bodies in a death rock dance hall.

What a miserable weekend. I'm living my life in sin and misery, as Eric Burden would say. I'm so jacked-up on medication that I keep having to pause the typing so I can let my head roll back for a few seconds. I am an unhappy camper. I am a camper who does not like to poop in the woods.

Due to my medications, I couldn't poop if I wanted to. Nasty side effect.

After getting my medical news, I parked on the couch to stare blankly in a druggy haze at the boob tube. Switch came over to keep me company, get my juice, and let's be honest, to wash his laundry and watch ultimate fighting. But it was nice to have someone there when I would open my eyes every fifteen minutes or so. It was comforting. And once again, being hurt always makes me want an official boyfriend to nurse me. Regardless...

This carried on to Friday where I did not leave my couch, not ONCE. I didn't even get up to go to the bathroom (which Switchblade noticed and pointed out to me, making me feel weirdly fixated on my bladder). He brought food, we watched movies, we crashed. We were like an old married couple who can sit peacefully side-by-side, just watching television, not saying a word, farting or babbling every now and again.

Saturday I felt semi-adventurous and went to Best Buy spending WAY more money than I wanted to on 2 "Degrassi: the Next Generation" box sets, Futurama Vol.3, and "Chicken Little". After returning from the sto' (and noting that I should NOT have been driving as my head was going loopy loopy loopy loo and my feet were doing there own special kind of walking), I put back on what will now be refered to as "my boyfriend uniform"...Ray's old pajama shorts and Leo's shredded hoodie. Then it was back in and out of consciousness. Wait...I did have lunch with Carol High-Hair somewhere in there. It was BEFORE I took drugs that day so I probably blocked it out because I was consumed with mind-numbing pain. I don't want to associate Carol with pain...unless it's Aqua Net in the eye. Regardless, I napped and managed to take a shower because I smelled like a sweaty boy's foot.

Leo took me to the drive-in that night...I think it was our second official date and it included M&M's and cheese fries! It was freezing, our speakers didn't work, and the movie wasn't that funny but half way through, he asked me to scoot my chair closer to him. We snuggled. He walked me to my door and I got a good night kiss and hug. A good hug. An "I'll miss you and had fun" hug. Swoony.

My being 100% in love is best translated into being 75% gay/5th grade-esque, 15% hot-in-the-pants, and 10% rebellious against my past.

I was feeling pretty reved up after my date so I headed over to the Jigsaw where I immediately wished my hands were actually giant boxing gloves because I wanted to punch so many people in the face. I didn't even stay more than an hour. I should have just stayed home and set $5 on fire. Leaving abruptly and crawling back into bed was the best decision I made all day.

And today is Easter. I spent it watching "Degrassi" and popping pills.

I am in so much pain that I would stand 50 feet away from me at all times. Just consider this me looking out for you. Today I was almost delirious with pain and discomfort. Phoebe gave me the OK to stay home from work again tomorrow but I don't want to be the office discussion...and it's really not fair. I do my job, I do it well, I try to be friendly and courteous, but I break a bone in my back and I'd bet you a whole pie that they'd be pissed and talk smack if I didn't come in. And I'll get made fun of a lot...picked on, teased, called a wuss...even if I AM there. I really can't take that. Being in pain just makes me surly and violent.

Just ask the surgeon who took my appendix out. He's my bitch now.

I'm shattered, yeah. I'm cracked up, yeah.

If you've been hanging around my My Space blog, this one will actually have more words and more thoughts. I'm going to sneak them in ever so slightly so you'll have to compare and contrast to find out just what exactly I added. It will be a fun game for you. Get that brain out of the gutter for a minute or two. Why am I babbling, you might ask? Because it keeps me from crying which is what I've been doing on and off since yesterday afternoon.

WHY have I been crying, you might ask? You ask a lot of questions!

BECASUE...I have a compression fracture in my back after falling down the stairs yesterday morning. I FELL down the stairs. I was NOT pushed down the stairs contrary to the belief of the good people at Kaiser. It was one of those things where I skidded on my heel down a few steps and couldn't get it together and WOOSH! My legs went right out from under me like in a Sandra Bullock prat-fall. I'm now taking approximately 12-20 pills a day (muscle relaxer, anti-inflammatory, pain killer...I have more pain killers than a pharmacy). I can look forward to a 6-8 week recovery time...it's like broken ribs, nothing you can do about it but wait to heal...but was warned that the first week will be the worst. Awesome. I bet I'll be chipper as a chicken on Easter. Fudge.

I'm not at work today which ROTS for the following reasons:

1. Phoebe is left in the lurch and she's been so cool and sweet about this. She's been helpful and concerned and I know what it's like to be alone in that place. She's in for a long day and will probably be cursing my name by 5:00p.

2. I don't get to see my guy and he seemed sort of ticked about my absence. Don't get me wrong, he WAS concerned about my pain but his head is always at work so he was probably MORE concerned about how the day was going to go. I was grouchy with him on the phone yesterday because I needed comfort and was getting the shaft. He never called me again to check on me. All I wanted was a virtual hug. Boo.

3. I lose a day of pay. I need all the money I can get for property taxes and Shark Attack! Records. Time off is unwelcome. Especially when you can't do anything but lay there and watch "Degrassi: the Next Generation".

4. I'm sure people are ticked off. If you're the one not at work, you're the one that's talked about. Simple as that. I bet I would have been expected to work. "You can't do anything about it. can't you just come in and sit in your chair?". No. No I can't. Screw off.

I didn't PLAN to fall down the stairs. I didn't ASK to be CLUMSY! MOTHER-TRUCKER! I can't go see the Shrill's last show tonight and everything is just EFFED! I really can't stop crying. I'm uncomfortable, I'm stoned, I'm lonely, and I'm just mad at myself for having two left feet, no hand-eye coordination, no equillibrium, and a very tny brain. A big thanks to Phoebe, again, for being a sweetheart and backing me up (backing...wah wah), sending sweet text messages, and being a great pal. And thanks to Johnny for keeping me compnay last night as I was in and out of consciousness. You guys rule. I'm going to need help from friends for the next few weeks so please don't think I'm a pest. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't needed.

Back to my couch...the place where I shall surely die one day.

I'm lonely and in pain. Cheer me up.

Will you sober up and let me down?

I had a laughing fit a little while ago and my sides are still aching. I wish I could tell you what I was busting a gut over but it probably wouldn't seem funny in print. In fact, it probably wasn't funny in reality but for whatever reason, I cracked up. It was pretty awesome. I like awesome things. I like when Johnny said "Stuck in Awesome Town. Send help".

I'm so obsessed with Nick Curran right now. Hardcore.

You know what I like to do on Sundays? Watch NASCAR and get drunk with my guy, my boss, and random co-workers. I like it even more if there are snow peas and rosemary & olive oil Triscuits involved. Sundays are good stuff, they usually end in sleep overs, and they tend to lead to very long Mondays. I think I need to bring a toothbrush to work for such occasions along with some good ol' American toothpaste. Leo's toothpaste is fishy. Anything besides straight up mint is un-American.

I have 2 dates this week. One on Wednesday to send off a favorite co-worker of mine who is moving on to bigger and better things and rigs. I plan to make him a mix of songs involving trucks, big rigs, running the road, CBs...you get the gist. Have any suggestions? I'm also giving him a picture of me to put in his truck. I'm cool like that. So there will be a work sponsered cocktail hour and hopefully a sleepover. I could really get used to this toasty warm bed/spooning/big-bellied-man-as-a-pillow thing. I'm even starting to enjoy the snoring. It's like a really big purrrrrrrr.

My second date is on Saturday (I love knowing my weekend plans by Monday...it makes me hot). I was going to head over to the Jigsaw to see The Shrill and pals but once I found out my boss' son had never been to the drive-in, plans changed. Leo and I are going to take his drive-in virginity. I just sort of creeped myself out by saying that. Once again, I hope the evening ends in a sleep over. And I hope the following day starts with bacon.

I'm really happy right now. I hope nothing screws this up.

This entry was brought to you by the letters X and S and the number 6.

I guess I got you and I guess you got me.

I just had a lunch date with Johnny and he clogged my toilet. Great.

Ever have one of those mornings where you really don't want to get out of bed? And not because you can tell a little, black rain cloud is going to hover over you but because there's good stuff going on in the bed? There was good stuff going on in my bed this morning and I would have pretty much let someone give me a brutal bitch slap if I could have stayed there. I hate you 5:45a and I hate you Saturday duty.

I finally had a successful date last night and I'm floating on a giant marshmallow Peep right now. The simplest things make me happy these days. Leo, beer, 'Robot Chicken', QVC, the qualifying race, foolin' around, pizza, wink wink nudge nudge, and sleeping. The good kind of sleep where even though the man next to you sounds like a tank is being driven through his nasal passages, he makes up for it by intertwining his body with yours all night. I was toasty warm, had a man's body to use for a pillow, and my bed had never felt so good. And when I woke up delcaring that I did NOT want to get out of the bed because I was so damn happy in it, it was nice to have my bald buddy agree and let me keep hitting the snooze for some spooning.

After work, we shopped together for the first time. It was very domestic.

Let me take a moment to exit my "I've-turned-into-a-totally-emo-Retardicon-and-should-be-shot-on-sight" existence to say BIG FAT CONGRATS to my Queen B who not only landed a k-rad new jobbby job at the 5th largest children's hospital this side of the moon, but also quit smoking 5 days ago! I know you want to poke poke poke everyone's eyes out, but hang in there. Just picture that poster with the kitten hanging from the tree or whatever. Hang in there. Or you could imagine a surfer and hang loose. Either way, I'm proud of you and can't wait to totally rape your new weekend-free work schedule! Yeehaw for you!

Since I've been up since 5:45a, I think I have a date with my blankets, pillows, and 'Degrassi: The Next Generation' before I have to pomp pomp pomp pomp it up! for the 8th Annual Rockabilly Freakshow at Nemeth's Lounge. Tom and Carol are my dates and I can't think of anyone hotter I'd want to go with. Unless that guy from prison break swung by with his fake tattoos on in which case, you're fired, Tom and Carol!

Though Carol DOES want to build me a vat that holds a never-ending supply of fresh Pepsi. I can even swim in it without getting in trouble. Oh man...now I'm hot for Carol again. Screw you, Wentworth Miller!

Shark Attack! Records logo is done. Be prepared to change your drawers.

I'll make you even wanna come back for more.

Hands down, I have the brain of a 13 year old boy today. It is in the gutter, rotting, with all the other perverts and their rotten brains! There may be some alcoholics down there, too. I can think about, talk about, and concentrate on one thing only. Sick, I know. I'm an adult for crying out loud (go ahead an laugh...in the eyes of the law, it's true). I should be thinking about my bills, emptying my litter box, doing the fine routing and property claims. But I'm not. I'm thinking "naked things". And I ate a roast beef sandwich for lunch on a Friday during Lent (!!!) so I bet there's a nice, toasty spot waiting for me in Hell. I'll be with friends, at least. I'm not going to sweat about that now. Ha ha, I said "sweat" when referring to Hell. SNAP! I'll sweat AFTER my date. Oh yes, I have a date tonight. A slumber party, if you will. But a much more fun slumber party as it will consist of me, a boy, no room mate, and beer. The possibilities are endless. If only I had Twister. Maybe we can play adult Boggle or something.

But BEFORE my date, I have another engagement at the adult book store.

Enjoy your weekend, y'all. See ya at the Freakshow tomorrow niiiiiiiiight!

Whoa, hang up and run to me!

Oh my golly!

I just spent 10 minutes and 52 seconds on the phone falling in love all over again with a man who has called me "honey" and "angel", and I didn't even mind. It was one of those conversations where I talked and listened, said exactly what I wanted to say and heard exactly what I wanted to hear. From somewhere deep down in my empty stomach (I threw up my dinner...second day in a row), with no help from beer might I add, I said EXACTLY what I wanted to in order to explain why I sounded angry: I just miss you. I had never said that to him before. Well, he misses me, too. He had never said that to ME before. Sometimes something so simple is so good to hear. I was even apologized to for his recent semi-robotic behavior and informed that he's snapping out of it. I'm pretty sure it was my smile-on-a-stick or my Laser Straight that fixed him up. He put his freezing cold hand on the small of my back as we walked down the hallway today and I'm pretty sure that fixed ME up.

We sure are good for each other. Yes sir. My parade is rain free!

Only you can fill that space inside.

A really kickin' day is coming to a close. I've had a Colgate smile slapped wide all over my silly mug from the moment I walked into this joint. Sometimes, just lending an ear to someone who needs a good listener can change your whole mood. Your whole outlook. Your whole vagina.

I've had some ants-in-my-pants about my situation with my lovah-boy recently. But since I've decided to kick back and chillax, letting things happen as they happen, I've realized a few thing-a-ma-jigs. When he seems standoff-ish or angry or less than affectionate, I can't jump to the conclusion that it's because of me. He's got a life that could make any sane person berzerk. He has way more going on than me...he's a manager, he's an ex-husband, he's an ex-boyfriend, he's a dad. There's a lot sitting on his head and I don't want to add to that. I want to be the person he comes to to unload and not one of the reason he needs to unload. I've been being selfish and pushing and that's a great way to push someone right out of your life.

All of these words are mine, by the way. Not his.

And this may seem immature but it was when we started hardcore flirting again that I knew things were okie dokie. After getting my neck kissed (drives me BONKERS!) and a big fat smooch behind closed doors, along with some PG-13 dirty talk, I returned to my cubicle and declared, "WE'RE BACK!". And we are. And even if he's having a rough go of it, I know that all I can do is be a good listener, a good friend, and let him know that he can trust me no matter what. I think he gets that after today...after the past few days. I have high hopes that we'll end up in an official relationship but I'm not going to sweat so much for the time being. What we have is good...the way we goof off, the way we can't keep our hands off each other, the way we pick on each other. He walks by, I light up. I walk up, he can't take his eyes off me. It doesn't have to be anything other than what it is. He told me yesterday that things are usually end up great when you've been waiting awhile for something.

He was talking about sex but I think it still applies here.

I'm just very jazzed today and I'm sure I'll be even more jacked-up after I get to spend the evening with him tomorrow. And you know what? Even if he has to cancel on me, I'm not going to flip my lid. It's not me, it's just life. But after today, I'm pretty sure we'll end up shackin' up tomorrow. He didn't even want to leave my cubicle today, after all.

I'm 27 and life is good.

Other reasons life is currently good and all is gravy:
-Dinner with Johnny Switchblade tonight.
-Pussyfoot practice Thursday.
-Our May 6th promo poster.
-Shark Attack! Records and the Slack-Jawed Yokels.
-Carmen Electra Fit-to-Strip workout discs.
-TONS of shows coming up (Joe Buck, Wayne the Train, Deke).
-Spring Fever!!!
-Big Sis and Little Sis's 3 year at Heavy Rebel together!!!
-Phoebe's ever-increasing good mood.
-Clean house.
-NETFLIX.

And Leo. Can't get enough.

I had a lot of money but I wasted it on you.

Screw you, Kasey Kahne. You owe me $10.

I drove a stick shift for the first time on Friday night. I had had many cocktails before hand and then I found myself behind the wheel of a totally jacked-up, street illegal, 1985 Mustang. I kept calling it "The Stang" but I was later informed by DAB that it would have been cooler if I had called it "The Pony". I also sat in the front seat of a 1956 Chevy that made my heart pound ten times faster than usually. I'm pretty sure I had an orgasm while I sat there. I feel bad for the two people next to me. I should probably be more embarrassed but come on...it was a k-rad Chevy! I plan on having sex in the back seat of it.

Last night, I went on a hot date with Potsie to see The Legendary Shack Shakers. They were fairly fantastic until David Lee and Pete got into some bizarre spitting match. I got beer in my eye and everything went down hill after that. I thought about shelling out some dough for Shack Shakers merch but not after her grabbed my friend by the hair. He has a big 'tude. Mr. Lee seemed a little too big for his britches if you ask me. So while hearing "CB Song" and drinking beers with my friends was a fun way to spend a Saturday night, I'm not sure I'll be a very big supporter of the Shack Shakers from now on. But that's just me.

And a certain someone was there that I had confessed a crush to in the past. Let's just say that I was pretty sauced that evening and just let the words keep a rolllin' no matter how inappropriate or humiliating. Still, last night, he approached me and he very briefly started to shoot the breeze about random things...so I think I can finally go out in public again, not being tortured by the fact that I told him I found him to be pretty much the ideal fella. So everything is gravy. He still has the most perfect teeth and hair I've ever seen. But that's not really enough to pine over. I'm choosing to pine over someone else.


This is what I look like after a few cocktails and some dirty dancing. Sweet.

But if you ain't gettin on then I ain't gettin off.

No date for Miss Cleveland tonight. I got blown off and it couldn't be quick like a band-aid rip, could it? It was drawn out all day long and somehow, temporarily, was blamed on me (yeah, you're right, it was ME that cancelled cause I haven't been looking forward to this since flippin' WEDNESDAY)! I'm fired up, if you want me to be honest. I'm sure you could feel the heat. I know my guy is having a rough go of it lately but I've been trying to be a pal, a real sweetie-pie, and this is what I get? All I wanted was to hang out, lay low, spend a little time together, help him relax, help his muss his sheets. Even HE mentioned that it's been awhile and he KNOWS it's his fault (so many excuses...no money, so much to do, taking a break form the beers, blah blah...might as well have said his head was on fire and he had grown a mermaid tail). He promised up and fucking down that we'd be on for Monday and pleaded with me not to be sour towards him...but I'm not holding my breath. I have athsma, after all.

Instead, I'm pulling "a townie" and hitting a local work dive. There's no way I was just going to go home and pout like this date was the only hit on my dance card. I'm wearing my favorite white long for fuck's sake). And tomorrow at the Shack Shakers show, I'm going to drink, dance, and have more fun than one person should be allowed. I'm going to have more fun than anyone else there! Including the Colonel! And my dude Donny Utah will be there, not to mention the rest of the crew, so why shouldn't I have a ball.

That's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna have me a ball! You know why??? Cause...

...I got my rabbit ears on and I wanna get chummy-chummy!

Let's start this again for real.

Today I made it my mission to be the captain of the cheer patrol. I had to turn Leo's totally understandable frown upside down, even if it meant doing a puppet show or making a smile-on-a-stick for him to carry around. That's what you do when you "cheese sandwich" someone. You go above and beyond to make sure they are happy as a hundred dollar ho, even if it means making an ass-hat out of yourself. I don't give a flying flip, do you hear me? I'm usually busy embarrassing myself any way so why not do it for a good cause? He's the number one thing in my life, hands down, and if he's sad or worried or annoyed...then I need a smile-on-a-stick! When I last saw the manimal in my life, he was smiling and my heart felt pretty fucking fat. And that's fat with a ph, y'all. I don't know if it's the vitamin D from the weather or what but all I want to do is make sure those big, fatty lips are smiling at all times. And I hope those fatty lips are all over during our date tomorrow. Here's hoping! WELCOME SPRING!

It's been so long since I had a smile.
I've stayed sad for such a long while.
If you can cheer me up, I could learn to love you.

You kiss me now and I turn away.
I think I'm still kissing yesterday.
If you can cheer me up, I could learn to love you.

Love me and cheer me up.
Show me you're the one who can make me happy.
Cheer me up! Come on and cheer me up!

I don't want to spend the rest of my days
dreaming yesterday's daydreams.

Out with the bad and in with the good.
You feel my heart girl, you're knocking on wood.
If you can cheer me up, I could learn to love you.

So generous, I'm being kind.
With selfishness in the back of my mind.
If you can cheer me up, I could learn to love you.

Love me and cheer me up.
Show me you're the one who can make me happy.
Cheer me up! Come on and cheer me up!

Don't want to spend the rest of my days
giving yesterday's promises.

Don't want to spend the rest of my days
living yesterday.

Don't want to spend the rest of my days
singing yesterday's love songs.

All I know dissolved, I could never reundo you.

My little life, as of recently, has been quite the sausage party. And by that, I mean boys from my past, present, and future (yes, I have a magic 8-ball AND a magic Ipod) have been circling in one fashion or another like buzzards waiting to feast on my rotting corpse. But seeing as I'm afraid of birds big and small, I really hope a buzzard doesn't feast on my rotting corpse because that might scare my ghost.

One of my ex-fellas came around recently. It was pretty gnarly to tell you the truth. I'm glad that we stopped wanting to stab each other in the eyeballs with an assortment of objects long enough to become pals. And I'm glad I found out that he DID sleep with that sleaze-beast (I knew it all along, mother truckers) AFTER I had decided not to stab him in the eyeballs with various objects. All is well. He's my brah now and I'm putting money on red that he'll be my new local drinking buddy. I've put the past behind me and my behind in my pants.

Drunk-dialed Leo while hosting the big party on Saturday. It's really not in good taste to drunk-dial someone three times in a row when you KNOW their kids are all sleeping in the bed with them and it's 2:30a. There was a discussion that freaked me out, ruined my weekend, and made things tense at work. But we have a "free nights and weekends" phone call scheduled so hopefully my sleep with be nightmare-less. I told him I loved him. He said it was nice...or great. I was sauced so all he gets are cheese sandwiches from now on.

Today is the one year anniversary (lots of anniversaries recently...my ex-wedding anniversary, today's anniversary, and Saturday will be the one year anniversary of the first time a certain someone put his fingers in my pockets and smooched on me) of the day my husband left me. Hooray! I mean, I got up and washed my hair for this day of all days!? But fo' real, everything is gravy nowadays. I just wanted to throw it out there that one year ago today, I was hanging on by a thread. Now I at least have 10 threads. A small rope if you will.

I was going to write about another boy but I want to drink Pepsi.

Don't tell me no jokes cause I'm not gonna laugh.

I shouldn't even focus on today as being a landmark in my life. I should focus on the fact that in 8.5 hours, I'll have a house full of people and bands rockin' out in honor of 4 people I would fight tigers for. They all popped out of their mamas during the month of March and I can't think of a better reason for a celebration. But I picked an iffy date for the event.

Today would have been my 3 year wedding anniversary.

Regardless of the fact that I am over the moon about another guy, it still stings when I think about what I went through. I'm 27 and divorced and it rots. There's no way around that and there's so many painful, gut destroying memories that are creeping up on me. Due to the symbolism of today's date, I've been replaying them over and over in my head. Now, I do not love my ex-husband anymore and he isn't even a part of my life in any way (unless you count the few random objects I still have from our life together and the fact that I can't really listen to Sam Cooke anymore), but I do keep thinking, "Could we have made it work? What if we had tried a little harder? Would I be in Vegas right now, celebrating? How did we fuck this up so bad when we were so in love?".

I think this is all pretty normal junk. Like I said, I'm madly in 'cheese sandwich' and can't really imagine still having Ezra as my partner, eventhough it has been said that we are more compatible now then we ever were and it's too bad we can't be together by one of his closest (probably THE closest) friends. The wheels in my head are just going because of what happened three years ago today. In two days, it will be a year since we were laying in bed, eating pizza and watching "Fat Albert" and he looked at me and told me it was over. I think I have a right to feel sort of blue. No one can tell me differently.

For posterity, let's review how things were on this date for the past 3 years.

AFTER THE WEDDING
It's 12:42p Las Vegas time and it's good to be home.

I DO NOT LIKE: little airplanes that wiggle from start to finish, taxi cabs where the drivers like Nascar, cards that advertise hookers being handed to me on the street, reaching for Roulette chips before the marker has been moved and being reprimanded, girls that say "Heeeeeeeeeey" and raise their fake nails in the air, having to stand in an Elvis pose during professional photographs, Harry Potter and Star Trek: Nemesis as in-flight movies, different time zones, losing all the money I was excited to have made, blisters from wearing high heels, missing Johnny's birthday, motherfucking jetlag, leaving Las Vegas one day too early and therefore missing the B-52s at the Hilton, every dick in Vegas asking Pirate how he gets his hair to stay up, landing.

I DO LIKE: being refered to as "wife", winning 5.00 on black due to Meg-Dog's insight (along with approx 75.00 in video poker and 110.00 in Roulette and Craps...all of which was lost so refer to above), a hotel view of the mountains, 5.99 buffets that feature the world's best round potatos, the book "White Oleander" which has taken good care of me during the plane rides, getting a lift back to the hotel with an Elvis impersonator (named Gary), getting cheese, cookies, and berries as an airplane snack, the New York New York Hotel and Casino, the stuffed flower that Brodie won me with darts (second only to watching him bust a move on some dancing video game), beligerant Brett's defiance regarding Las Vegas' right to his "quarter", being drunk at 1:00p Vegas time.

I LOVE: The Knife, Brodie, my husband (not only for marrying me but for saying things like Hello wife), and 1.00 MARGARITAS.

1st ANNIVERSARY
Who knew we would make it to 1 year? I certainly didn't, I'll tell you that much! I'm going to wish myself a Happy 1 Year Anniversary(it's the paper anniversary so fork over your cash!) because I consider it QUITE an accomplishment and a special occasion INDEED!

Last night, what was supposed to be a birthday gathering for my Mom was actually a surprise anniversary party for us kids. We even had a wedding cake, which was totally abscent at the actual wedding. And gifts!! We got our first wedding gifts...also abscent since the actual wedding (wah). New dishes, glasswear, pillows, picture frams, CASH...the whole event really destroyed any ill feelings I had about my family's disintrest in my union. It was a rad evening and just what I needed.

For my paper anniversary, I recieved plane tickets to Las Vegas. I don't want to jinx anything, but right now, I don't feel like things could get any better. I'm in a swell mood, MARK THIS DOWN ON YOUR CALENDARS, Y'ALL! And ask me how I'm going to spend my special day. I'll tell ya...I'm going to dinner and a movie with The Knife because my husband (of 1 year) has to work. So responsible!!

Enough babble. Las Vegas preparations need to me made and I am the one who needs to make them! Feel free to send your anniversary greetings my way!!!

2nd ANNIVERSAY PART ONE
Two years ago on this very day, around this very time, I was standing in my white polka dot dress before a Puerto Rican camera man, a gold la mae-clad Elvis impersonator named Gary, my two witnesses (Brodie Davis, Jr. and The Knife), and the man whom I would shortly be bound to for the rest of eternity...or longer if I become a vampire as planned. We swapped some vows in a 1950s-inspired diner and became man and wife, for better or for worse. I think we've survived the worst of the worst and can count on some better times ahead. I supposedly said it once and I'll say it again: I look at him, being all goofy, and I know I got the best of the bunch.

Yesterday we became first time home owners and I have never been happier (except, perhaps, when I bought the door knocker but now it officially has a door to go on). Life sure had a way of shocking the Hell out of me. I married the man for me, graduated, found a job that kicks ass as far as I'm concerned, and now, I'm going to be buried in the back yard of a house that I'm pretty sure was built for us to live in...way back in 1929...so we're a little late in our arrival. Sometime this summer, there will be one Helluva house warming champagne jam in the West Park area of Cleveland and it won't be reminiscent of being packed in a sardine can! Screw you, Kent! I'm outta heeeeeeeeeeeere! And all you Clevelanders...lend me some sugar! I am your neighbor!

2nd ANNIVERSAYR PART TWO
Not the second anniversary I had imagined even if it did start out with rad text messages, a dozen roses, cowgirl coasters, and 4 Shag Pink Panther glasses followed by a romantic dinner. Our outing ended in crocodile tears, cruel words pulled out of the meanest parts of us, and broken, bloody hearts. I am hated and I get that but it's like pouring poison in my ear to hear the same person who was showering me in affection earlier tell me that they don't want a house and don't want to deal with bickering and don't want to deal with me. I understand that getting back together is equally as difficult as breaking up and that I have to fight for this...but sometimes I make mistakes and roll my eyes and get hurt feelings and bicker. I'm human (though I do prefer to tell people I'm a robot).

Eventually, after white trash World War III, the night ended with us being all intertwined like crazy snakes the ENTIRE night (and he rarely cuddles me so it was pretty effin' neat) but I was getting up every 15 minutes to cry hysterically in the bathroom so I didn't vibrate the bed. I was terrified to initiate any discussion about whether or not we were OK and if he was 100% sure he didn't want the house that he had been so thrilled about but after he called me "baby", I found the words. I was reassured that we are OK and in love and together and are both going to be nicer and better to one another. I was also told that the Cleveland move is on, thought I was less convinced about this. He admits he's scared but claims he's still happy and excited. I, on the other hand, feel like a royal jerk-off for how our anniversary turned out and I almost feel ashamed for being so excited about moving when my aprtner is so weary. I feel like a lesser life form that is some times hated by the person I love.

I had an uneasy day with my family coloring Easter eggs. It was good to see them and I had fun and caught a nice nap but I was worried...a little panic had set in about last night's fight. I needed more reassurance that things were really and truly alright between myself and Duckie. The excitement I had about "the house" wasn't in full affect as I was showing off pictures and the new door knocker and talking about moving. I felt sad. So instead of going to see Brennan's Revenge and Nightbreed this evening, I'll be in my bed in my pajamas, all nervous-like, watching "Fat Albert", "The Incredibles", and "Taxi", hoping that I'll get some company. I want to go back to yesterday morning when we were the happiest couple on the planet and then to tomorrow night where I would let what started our bickering to just roll off my back. If only I had finished that time machine...

*End note: I shouldn't have read these things. Fuck.*

I never asked for the truth but you owe that to me.

Today, I really wish I had an auto-focus function that I could trigger by twisting a nipple or something because focusing just ain't on my "to do" list. Putzing, slacking, goofing off...those are all valid options but focusing is for the dogs. I can't do it and certainly not enough to write anything brilliant. I didn't get enough sleep (there were pros and cons to that), I had too many cocktails last night, and I have way too much to do. Focusing or putting forth any sort of effort at the current moment would just be too much to ask of me and I'd probably rip your head off, ninja-style. Enjoy the following worthless tid bits:

I just can't bring myself to poop at work, even if it would rock.
My bees are killing me, yo.
Leo gave me a toothbrush for sleepovers at his digs :::swoon:::.
I ran around the outside of his house in my knickers last night.
"I was pounded like a chicken cutlet" is a funny declarative sentence.
I have to make up a PFG routine to Reigning Sound's "Get It!" today.
There are 47 minutes left in the work day.
Nowhere near ready for the March Madness Beach Party Birthdays.
I'm really looking forward to left over pork.
I'd like to BE porked.
Only boys and pervert cartoons use "pork" as a verb.
I hope I'm not too fat for my party bikini top.
Phoebe will always help me for money off her rent...thrifty bitch!
Leo wants to meet my parents.
I need a shower like nobody's biz and it's upsetting.

That's all I've got. Even the random flow isn't flowing. All I can think about it using the can and hitting the dusty trail but I still have time to burn. It's that last flippin' slow hour! Makes me want to rip my eyeballs out in search for a ket that's hidden in my skull...or whatever. I should have been a happy clam today since I woke up intertwined with my fella and he treated me to a pretty boss breakfast before work...but this clam turned to a crab. But my clam doesn't HAVE crabs. I guess I should count my blessings. Blather. I'm pouting and that's that. I got a stiff neck just writing this.

Blather. Blather.

But my bee-stung tongue wants in there.

Bees! Bees! My elbow is going to be attacked by bees in about an hour! And while they won't be REAL bees, they will be bee-utiful bees and there will be a "buzzzzzzzz buzzzzzzzz" noise in the background that will make me scream about BEEEEEES!

Break it down! I'm finally getting my left elbow finished, suckah chumps! Let's face it, my former hubba-lubba-ding-dong and I may some day be on speaking terms...maybe a high five here and there...but I don't ever think we're going to be close enough for him to finish the three phat tats he abandoned. I don't think I would trust him to drive vibrating needles into my lilly white flesh anywho. Regardless. I'm more than happy to give my dough to Sean Jaundice. And I will! TODAY! :::shudder:::

I'm also going to get my Danzig skull shaded pinkity pink. Switchblade doesn't think Danzig will like that which is EXACTLY why I'm doing it. I could take that mothah-suckah down with one pound from my ineffectual fist. Take that! Pow pow! {Pink Danzig skull. So pretty.

Lovely luscious liquor-lovin' Leo asked if this would be my last one with a sort of pleading tone. I said yes...after my left foot is done...and my right leg...and my achor is colored in...and my butterfly is covered up...and my octopus is wearing a crown...and I get my Polkabot matching Ben Lybarger's. Then yes, Leo. I will be done (lies, lies, lies...and I guess this is why my mother says to never put anything in print). He said I was addicted. My clever response was a stone-faced "Duh".

I can't believe I just spent all those paragraphs talking about tattoos. I actually hate talking about tattoos. It's such a brain dead, "I have nothing else to blather about" subject. And here I am STILL talking about it!

Now I will switch to the story about how I found two of my cats in a garbage can outside my house when I got home from work yesterday.

Actually, that's pretty much the whole story. They escaped, got into a rumble, and they they fucked me up. But all is good at the Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral for the time being...until I get rabies.

I'm okay alone but you got something I need.

R.I.P. Pete's mama. I love you, Pete.

Why am I up and raping the internet at 8:15a on a Sunday? Because the man I slept next to is fussy and doesn't know the meaning of sleeping in. But the sleep I did get was quality so I'm not complaining. Spooning is totally for the cool kids. Whoever says that it's for pussies deserves a really heavy boot to the jaw. A jack boot. Now who's a pussy?

I'm pretty amped up this morning, despite being tired. I had one of those k-rad weekends that rocked me at my foundation from beginning to end. I am a happy kid and, of course, my happiness was pretty much ignited by a boy. Friday, we left our posts early to celebrate St. Patrick's Day and it was more fun than a bag full of kittens floating out to sea. It was just a fun, drink-filled, drama-free, smooching-heavy evening that ended with me having a slumber party with my fella. So that was the FIRST night I didn't sleep in my bed this weekend.

Then it was off to work at 5:30a after beer, beer, beer, whiskey, beer, cherry bombs, beer, beer, a margarita, and beer. And little sleep. And lock jaw. So this was just a goofy-as-all-get-out work day. Leo and I were just ridiculous (the term "beer belly" CAN be mistaken for "dare devil" if you haven't slept much) and let's be honest, it was a bacon morning. I was pretty excited at the prospect of having a breakfast date since we really don't get to spend to much "not at work" time together. And here's some moosh for you...actually, two doses of moosh.

Mushiness numero uno: Leo told me that if I waited 15 minutes, we could leave work and have bacon together (he still owes me flapjacks). I was struggling to stay awake so he suggested I go in his office and sleep in his comfy chair and he would wake me before breakfast. He kept telling me, in a cute, quiet, boy voice, to just shut my eyes. He turned off the light and covered me up with a big coat so I wouldn't be cold. He really does try to take care of me. It's attractive.

Mushiness numero dos: We ended up having breakfast at a co-worker's house because it was free and it was fun. Leo asked me if I wanted to split a hasbrown but I already had one on my plate so I suggested we just split that one. I cut it in half and he took it off my plate. I don't know why but I got all moist in the heart region. It felt very couple-like. I have a hard time not knowing where we stand, what we are to each other...but things like that, the little things, they let me know that whatever this is, it's good. So I'm putting my patience pants on for now. Life is good.

The SECOND night that I didn't spend in my bed got rolling around 7:00p when we hit the Cleveland Autorama! There were two 1957 Chevy Belaires which left me wishing I had brought a change of panties. AND the Leroy Thompson Choppers crew were there so we talked about how great our show at their shop will be this year. I felt so important to know people at the auto show. Chopper people. I used to be so uncomfortable with certain groups of my ex-husband's friends, but I just felt so relaxed last night. I had a lot of fun and was treated very well. I was informed that this was "our first official date". He paid my way in, bought some cocktails, gave up a public smooch and some hand holding, and even bought me my very first Hot Wheel. It's purple and shiney and it's called "Evil Twin".

The post-car show bar outting was good stuff, too. We had a few more drinks, got some food, and then from somewhere deep, deep, deep down in there, I gathered up some courage and told Leo I wanted to spend the night. I even told him how nervous I was asking...I had never just said, "Hey, I want to sleep over tonight, is that cool?". It had always just happened. But last night, I really wanted to spoon. And I did. While wearing his pajama pants. And here I am...typing away at this early hour. But you can reference paragraph 1 for that explaination.

Today is race day (GO JIMMIE!!) and I might be watching alone. There was no discussion regarding getting together but I'm not going to bitch since I had 2 almost full days and nights with the guy. I'm thinking I might FINALLY finish cleaning my downstairs since I have a party right around the corner, make some cheese soup, watch "Degrassi Junior High" season 1, chillax. Things are really good right now...with Leo and Pussyfoot Girls and just life in general. I hope this feeling sticks around awhile because I could stand being smiley and geeked.

I'm a get get get get you drunk!

I'm tossing any shread of sobriety out the window for tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day! I have my "Official Irish Drinking Team" shirt and a lust for liquor! In the immortal words of Lords of the Highway, "Don't fuss, don't fight, just have a good time". That is my plan and I'm sticking to it. I don't even care if I throw up on yo' mama!

I never knew...what good love could do.

I wish I had some pie. Where are you with pie, Rocko?

I'm having a lot of random thoughts. Right now I'm thinking about whether or not chicks can get jock itch because I can't keep my paws out of my drawers. And I can't stop talking about it. I'd probably chase a bum down the street just to talk about how itchy I am in the knickers. I think it's due to me being a cheapskate and getting generic detergent. I'm going to have to buy new undergarments before work tomorrow so no one sees me fussing with my bits! Damn, I wish I had fingernails.

Now that Issac Hayes has thrown in the bloody and sweaty towel, abandoning his post as the voice of Chef on 'South Park', I can honestly say that I hate Scientologists even more. I think we should bring back religious persecution. We need a healthy dose of it right about now. And someone needs to wipe out Tom Cruise, for crying out loud. I think I am going to plan The Crusades, take 2. They better write Chef out in some dramatic fashion. He should get Ebola. And then give it to Ryan Foltz, brand new owner of a collection of Sanding Sticks, available at Sear's.

When my fella was in seventh or eighth grade, he had a mullet and was the most adorable thing I've ever seen. I've been carrying around a school photo of him all day and it's kept my spirts high, eventhough I'm going on two very snore-interrupted hours of slept and a heavily liquid Sunday diet. We slumber partied at his digs for the first time last night and it was nice to have my arms and legs wrapped around a big, warm man. He probably wished I had taken the time to shave my legs. Nice time to get hygenically lazy.

There's goofiness oozin' out my vagina today, I'll tell you. I'm smitten. I'm beyond smitten. I cheese sandwich a NASCAR fan, by golly! But I will say, his love of NASCAR won me $110 as I joined the work pool to lengthen that list of things we have in common to include more than bars, beers, and bad behavior. Jimmie Johnson was my guy yesterday and he blew my mind during the last lap, as all men tend to do. Bah dunt dunt. Now my pockets are fat and I'm taking Leo out for steaks. He has to deliver the winnings he owes me fashioned into a little ten dollar bouquet...pantsless. We're goons. I've never been happier.

At the upcoming "March Madness Beach Party Birthdays" celebration, there's going to be a bacon eating contest. I won't be participating. I'm not buying the bacon, cooking the bacon, or scarfing the bacon. I will, however, be tossin' some cash flow out to buy the TROPHY! It wouldn't be a real contest without a flippin' TROPHY! I wish I could get one with a dancing piece of meat on top but I think that might be tuff to find. Though I think they have trophies with cows on top...for rodeos, cattle roping, Best of Show. Man, I don't know if I'm more excited about getting kissed good-bye at work or about this mothertruckin' trophy! TROPHY!!!

Speaking of this shin-dig, I'm slightly disappointed about one name absent from the guest list. I guess I can understand not wanting to come to yet another par-tay when we just recovered from My Birthday Party Pajama Jam AND New Year's Eve. But still...not showing up at all is a pretty bold statement and seems slightly over the top. And it just burns my toast since it seems like I can't get this person interested in doing much of anything that I'm involved in. Just a little irked. No major surgery needed. Just needed to let it all out. Trying not to keep things all bottled up, y'all. I'll be at the party...dressed like goldfish bait, if everything goes my way...and I'll be having more fun than you can shake a hula skirt at.

This current season of Gilmore Girls has been highly disappointing. I didn't like how Lorelai treated Luke. I wanted to box Rory's face in. I'm totally anti-Luke's long lost daughter. About the only "thumbs up" thing that I can rally for is Lane and Zach getting engaged. Phoebe and I were mulling around how we think the series will end since we're thinking next season will see the end to the quick wit and speed chatter. Somehow it was decided that Lorelai and Rory will be pregnant at the same time. As long as Sebastian Bach is some how involved, I can dig it! How did I get on this subject? I watched the entire season 4 and 5 box sets while I was sick-o. I've got Gilmore on the brain.

Thank GOD Netflix is bringing DEGRASSI JUNIOR HIGH SEASON 1!!!

And you wish you could make it stop!

Suck-o! I've caught the mother-truckin' sickness.

I haven't had anything to eat since Wednesday when I ate chicken fingers next to a grown man wearing a bib. Why is it that all large men eat wings? It's like a rite of passage. Regardless, if not for the uncomfortable distress my body is going through, I'd be happy to be on the Sickness Diet and shed some winter weight. I have zero appetite but I've had so many cans of Pepsi, I've got non-stop shakes and really stale soda breath. Yesterday, after I zombied my way through work and was told I looked "hit", I came home and slept for 18 hours. 18! And I feel like garbage that has been puked on, ate by a racoon, and puked up by that very same racoon.

This is what happens when you work in such close quarters. You either catch whatever bug floats around the office (and the current buggy has landed a salesman in the hospital getting poked and prodded) or you end up fooling around with a co-worker. Those are really your only options. Check and check check.

So here I am, losing 8 hours of pay and being all around effin' grouchy. Had yet another uncalled for spat with my fella after a bar outting on Wednesday. He blames it on the beer and a previously pissed-off attitude. He apologized and promised it would never happen again but I told him I didn't buy it. I bought into that package for four years and ended up barely alive. So who knows where that whole thing stands. I'm not a big fan of crying at work, I know that much. I left throwing my hands up in the air and saying, "You're driving me fucking nuts". And that's the truth.

I predict a long and lonely weekend in bed with soup. Don't forget about me.

Cooling my blood. Warming my heart.

I just ate a hot dog, some Butter Pecan ice-cream, and a pain killer. I'm hoping that cocktail helps with my ever-growing back pain, brand new cold symptoms, and loneliness. I was told I could call my fella to be bailed out of jail, if need be. Guess that counts for something. I could still cry.

That about sums it up.

We can't know for sure until we open the door.

Tie a ribbon around an ol' whiskey bottle! I got back together with my ever-lovin' wife. Silence can be deafening so I waved the white flag. There was hugging, a public display of boob touching, and all is well in the Corral and the cubicle.

My little life managed to morph in to quite the circus this weekend. In all actuality, I feel like this weekend was ten days long and I'm really late for work. Spent what I THOUGHT was going to be a typical Friday night at the local work dive with pals. Enjoyed cocktails and conversation and plotting, all the while hoping my fella would show up post a big job downtown. When he does, he's in a rather unpleasant mood...shocking, I know! Work's hard, I get it. But when your pseudo-chick has been waiting impatiently to see you all day (just for five minutes...just for a hug and kiss) and you've got your crabby pants on...it's no naked picnic on the beach. It's understandable, sure, but frustrating. Especially since I was frisky all day at work (in fact, I was told that I had an X-rated mouth, tee hee...I'm nto denying that. I am, after all, a 12 year old boy).

Once we parted ways without a kiss or much chatting, I had to come up with a plan B. I knew some of his work guys were at a west side bar so I went there. Not like me to just show up somewhere alone but I strutted right in and acted like I owned the place. After a beer and a shot and a few minutes rubbing some strange girl's head, I was at a strip club getting a lap dance and putting $1.00 bills into some other strange girl's drawers! Who knew I had it in me?! I felt like such a pimp. And my willingness to broaden my horizons earned me the honor of being "so fucking cool". That's right.

Saturday was the longest yet most fulfilling day of my year thus far and you may be scratching your junk sayind, "WHY??". I had to be at work before the sun came up and there was my fella, still a moody dude. Further bent out of shape that I ended up out and about with other dudes...his work dudes to be exact. Thought I did it to razz him but in actuality, I just wasn't ready to go home and feel shabby about being ignored. Not two weekends in a row (but as a side note, I don't know what it's like to be the boss and work all the live long day. I don't envy having to hire and fire. So...). My dude and I have a little chat and even though I get an apology, once again, I ended up leaking some tears. I came home and threw myself rather dramatically into bed. FANTASTIC! I slept from 8:30a to 8:30p, getting up only to rehydrate and use the facilities. Other than thatm it was me, Futurama, and my pajamas. It was just what I needed.

And speaking of "Just What I Needed"...

I didn't think my coma day could get much better but a half an hour phone conversation lead to the possibility of a sleep over!! And I'm not talking pillow fights and Ouija boards, people! Around midnight, I get a call that my fella is on his way...in his pajamas and with beer! We watched TV, had some drinks, got goofy about each other and then...well...spent the rest of the night upstairs. I love sleep overs. I loved waking up in the nook and getting my back rubbed. There was supposed to be a breakfast date as I was promised flapjacks but that is being rescheduled. Flapjacks would have been nice. Staying in bed all curled up until 10:00 was better.

So here it is, Sunday, and I've got big and ultimatly fascinating plans. In this order, I'm going to go to the grocery store, make cheese soup, clean my dining room and kitchen, do laundry, order take out Olive Garden, and watch the mother-truckin' Oscars until I can't keep my eyes open even a second longer! It may sound boring to you but it actually sounds pretty fantastic to me. If I have any spare time, I'll work on making up routines for Pussyfoot practice this week. I'm a happy clam. I'd say my clam in happy but that's just gross! No one ever said I had class!!!

But to back track for a second, there was weirdness on Wednesday. I want a lable, lame as that is, and I don't have one. I know my guy is not ready to be one-on-one but it hurts me to just be. Yeah...to just BE. But yesterday, I was informed that he had opened up and confirmed the rumors to a few co-workers. That step has made it a little easier for me to sit back and wait. I have high hopes that we'll be "together" at some point. I just have to go at his speed and practice patience. for him...anything.

Hope it's right when you die, old and bony.

Are you ready for the update of all updates? Do you have a cocktail in your hand? Is your cigarette lit? Are you shaking in antici...pation? Of course not! Because this is a blog and the only person who will care about this in the future is me when I've got fake jugs, orange lipstick, and a voice much like Johnny Cash from the whiskey and smokes. But fasten your seatbelts. There's a lot to take in. And momma's gonna give it to ya! And now, back to the show.

FRIDAY 2/24/06: Friday...otherwise known as "All Hell Breaks Loose" day. I thought things were going swimmingly. Cocktails at the local dive...the "usual", if you will...with my fella and some friends. After a plot to steal a map goes sour, I find myself in my car, screaming and crying and thinking, "How DID I get back here??". Next thing I know, I'm at all THREE of my doors but no key in sight! I try to find solace in my sparring partner but that's worthless as he's passed out on the floor of his house. And sleeping in the freezing cold car (as well as peeing in the yard) were utter failures. So I'm on my way to a lame ass bar to have my roomie meet me on the street with a key. It was a misery of an evening and I had no idea how things were going to unfold with the man in my life. AND I had to work at 5:30am. BLAST!

SATURDAY 2/25/06: Can't turn my mind off on the way to work Saturday morning. Very little sleep. Lots of crying. And alcohol. Bad combination. I need a little help so I call my guy. He's not very...friendly or embracing and I fear the worst. I coreograph a later phone call which also seems fishy. Like I said, there were apologies but I'm a chick and we mend slowly. A fish fin doesn't grow back when you pull it off. AND THEN...KA-POW! Bug trouble at work! Big time! And no upper-management to be found. I spent the rest of my day, at home, juggling phones, practically tossing my cookies, being yelled at, yelling, trying to make the situation right. And my guy is behind me 100%. I couldn't have done it without him. I'd be headless or lifeless right now without him. And he told me what a good job I did handling the chaos. In fact, he told all the boss hogs about my performance. I blushed alot. And somewhere, through it all, I suggested that us making up would make all the chaos calm down for me...so make up we did. And I'm pretty sure when all the phone calls died down and life went back to normal, I threw myself on the bed and said, "I am so in love with him". And I am.

Finally get a chance to rest my weiry head...and the vice-president shows up with 12 beers to reward me! Who I am to turn down a head-honcho? My roomie joined us as we bullshitted and laughed and drank and brought my body back down from la-la land. And I get to talk on the phone...to the boy I like...and he suggests spending time together later in the day...and I melt. Sure, that never happened (I went to Ben's going away party and was quite a dud, returning to my bed before midnight to crash), but it was the thought that counted and we DID make plans for the next day. Swoon, swoon, swoon!

Like I said, I was a dud at the party. Couldn't get into it. I think the day warped me. Sometimes it's hard for me to shake things. My adrenaline was high, I had been drunk once in the day already, and of course, there's the ever-present ex-husband. BUt I did get to eat asparagus, see Robot Burlesque, and get a full-on moustache "switl and smooch" from the guest of honor. How can Ben move away? I can't even think about it. I drove home, crawled in bed and let Futurama and a text message set me right. God, I hated Saturday and hope it explodes. Just that one. I'd like to lose my memories of it for all of eternity.

SUNDAY 2/26/06:So I have plans with a boy on this day but FIRST, I have plans with my kin. And that's fine and dandy. Food, gossip, sisters, what have you. One of my sisters is very anti-Pussyfoot, or so it seems, which made me a little riled up. But my fella called (post 7 morning, Race Day beverages...woo hoo!) and the plans are a-go! And my nerves kick in... our very first officially, not on a Monday, outside of a bar plans! Will our heroine survive the ordeal??? I did. I survived...my first NASCAR race!! It was fun...after a few ice-cold frosty ones. It was nearly as red-neckish as I would have imagined. Just a sport. I watched, drank, questioned, routined for Biffle, cursed Biffle, and got my neck and head rubbed and hand held. Not bad. And after my sobriety took a dive, I had a sleep over. But I'm going to leave what happened then between the sheets.

MONDAY 2/27/06: STILL have to leave some stuff between the sheets...wink wink! Then it's a quick ride home to brush the fur off my teeth and change my drawers before work where I would spend the entire day NOT speaking to my roomie/co-worker. There was a verbal (sort of) brawl and I think I have a right to be upset. At first it seemed as if she agreed but now I think she's entered "whatever" stage, and that's fine. I'm just about at "whatever" stage on some issues myself.I'm not going to air the dirty laundry. Somethings were said and it's not just WHAT was said but who they were said to. The whole situation practically ruined my evening but I chose to focus on more important things at the time. But that just let things stew...and now we are where we are and I'm highly disappointed.

Also, I made toast for a boy and it was the most gratifying things I've ever done.

That's a lot to digest. And things happened today that I would comment on as well if I didn't work for 11 hours. I need my bed. I need my head on my pillow so I can get up, well rested, shower, and shake today off me. Thanks for tuning in to a fresh new entry.

I always knew. I always saw it coming.

I am sad. And the worst part about being sad...besides the all consuming sadness...is the feeling of being left hanging. I had my first knock down, drag out fight with my fella and there's really nothing I can do about it. Nothing I can do to fix it, really. All I can do is wait it out and see what happens. I spent the end of my evening in my car, crying...sobbing..., trying to make things better. I relived so many times before when my ex-husband and I would be sitting in the car, yelling or screaming or crying or any combination of those. It was a nightmare. I don't like that things feel "up in the air". Things had been sooooo good. Everything seemed like it was falling into place. And then I guess we both managed to make each other feel like garbage. I don't know what to do. All I can really manage to do is think and cry and feel miserable. Somewhere in there, he told me exactly how he feels about me and that was incredible...except that it was in the middle of everything. In the middle of fighting and yelling and feeling like garbage. And even today, after plenty of time to cool off, there was something missing from his voice when I talked to him. He said he's sorry and hated seeing me cry and didn't mean to be a jerk and it wouldn't happen again but...God, it was bad. I feel so sad. I can't even talk about this anymore. I just have to try and not flip my lid until I know what's going on.

Well I've been waiting in line for this.

I'm really lovin' 2006. Like..."makin' love" lovin'.

So a Bishop, a bum, and a hot dog walk out my front door on a Tuesday night with a video camera...stop me if you've heard this one before.

There's filming going on in my house as I type this. I'm a little too tired to participate today but last night, I made my film debut as "Amber", a trailer trash, hillbilly, unwed, lactating mother in a tube top and knee high socks. Some of my stellar and most memorable lines included, "Hi Mama! I is on TV!" and "Of course I'll marry you, you love-crazed weiner!". The movie roles should be beating down my door any second now. Really. Any second. I'm a-waitin'! Regardless of my blah-ness regarding filming today, I was glad to be a part of it all.

Saturday night, us Pussyfoot gals rocked Columbus at Carabar. The bartenders were fantastic and armed with free beers and shots, our set went off pretty much without a hitch and featured some wacky 1970s sex cartoons, Bob's Country Bunker made me put my dancin' shoes on, and HELL, a ROBOT opened for us. A guy with a dream claimed he could do 28 different entertaining things through the month of February and our night included programing some robot to sing popular songs ina scary computer voice. I really only remember "Come On Baby, Light My Fire". Still, Nathan is my new hero...and not just because he can wrestle a chair and gave me a black bracelet that I will never take off.

Next stop...Altoona?

Planning another par-tay here at the Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral: March Madness Beach Party Birthdays! 4 of my nearest and dearest popped out of vaginas in March so I feel it is my obligation to host the event. I am hoping to come as a goldfish...as bait, actually. Per usual, there will be beer, bands, and broads in bikinis! And something tells me this is the one where someone won't make it out alive!

I've been sort of lonely and confused about my curretn "fella" situation. Let my feelings get hurt at work. Felt small, which I hate. But I'm trying to let things roll off my back. I don't want to make mistakes I've made in the past. But it's hard...I've been single for almost a year now. I don't want to be single any more. I'm ready to have someone to goof off with, hold hands with, go on road trips with, fall asleep with. But the person I want HASN'T been single for a year. It's going to take them time to get to where I am. And then where will I be?

I miss spooning. Some people don't even know what that is.

I picked Greg Biffle for the race this weekend. GO BIFFLE!

Gotta get 'em moving on the floor tonight.

The Pussyfoot Girls invade Columbus TO-NIGHT! And if it's half as good as last night, I may not live to see the work week! Last night was one of our best shows, ever. We were on the ball. Only the teeniest screw ups that only we would notice. And our new song was a HIT, or I'd like to think so. I certainly strived to be the cutest little tree that you ever did see (and if you saw it, you know what I mean). It was a new city for us to perform in and I think they embraced us. I know I recieved many compliments from strangers throughout the night, and someone even bought me a shot! Sure, once he found out who my ex-husband was he abandoned me like I was a leper, but it was the initial thought that counted. Now I'm sitting her with ants in my pants, reeling about what a blast last night was, and hoping that tonight is a success. How could it not be? We're launching the "My Vagina Is On Fire 'Cause We're Playing the State Capital" tour. With a name like that, a good time is guaranteed!

1,000 men that have come and gone.

Supposedly, I am being "seen". Someone is "seeing me". I am "the new girl you're seeing". This is news to me. Good mother-truckin' news.

I wonder if I'm allowed to tell anyone yet.

He told me I smelled good today. I thought that was adorable. Then he told me I smelled like steak. I am "seeing" a man with a gut and a nose for meat...and I like it!

VIVA!

Glistening white triangular tooth.

Mean, horrible, nasty, disgusting, evil, evil mood! Beware! Take cover! Run! Protect your children! I am going to unleash the beast!!! I am cranky to the zillionth degree and I have no idea why! I thought I had a clue, I thought it was a lot of boys stuff and loneliness and feelings of failure. But I was reassured. I was comforted. Dare I say I was just a little bit loved yesterday. And here I am, fangs sharpened! Claws out! Growling and foaming at the mouth! I AM IN A BAD MOOOOOOOOD!

This thing we have, will it mean anything?

I woke up in a horrific mood with a fat, little, black raincloud hovering over my head which was totally uncalled for since I watched a handsome man deliver and install my brand new dryer after spooning me on my couch while watching "House of Wax" (and no, that wasn't part of the delivery fee) last night. I just couldn't shut my mind off. It was thinking in over drive. It was telling me that despite how k-rad things have been, I'm pretty lonely. I was on the verge of tears all day and a few trickled out from time to time despite everyone's best attempts to soothe me. I was trying to slap on a fake happy face and smile to not let my rain cloud get any drops on Phoebe. She was having a great Valentine's Day and her recent pleasant mood has been very welcome. And then I woke up and came to work a wet and moldy mop. Not even adult videos could make the forehead wrinkles disappear.

Then a someone gave me candy and told me I wouldn't be lonely for long.

:::swooooooooooooooooooooooon:::

I love all ya'll, Sharks or not! Enjoy your VD!

But I thought it was just for fun!

I have returned safe and sound from the north!

Megbo, Jimbo, Johnny, Ben and myself just spent a much needed weekend away in lovely Niagara Falls. I needed it, believe you me! All I could think of while at work was a delicious cocktail and some good company. Sure, we could have potentially lost our lives in a Buffalo bizzard but we didn't. We should have drank to that. Everyone went to bed buzzed the first night only to gear up for round 2, which I will affectionately call "12 Hour Saturday". We drank for the first 12 hours non-stop...at a restaurant, 2 bars in the casino, a weird 1940's dance hall/Mexican sports bar, another retaurant, and our hotel room. There was no water, no soda, no nothing. If it didn't have alcohol in it, we didn't drink it! And then we slept for the next 12 hours unless we were waking up for aspirin, bathroom breaks, or to beg for an end to the snoring! I won some money playing Roulette, had the best raspberry margaritas in creation, got to see Johnny in my bathing suit bottom (stuffing like a 13 year old would her bra), and laughed more than I have in a long time. Oh, and we saw the Falls where we wrote the new hit song, "Falls In My Face". Brilliant.

Also while in Niagara Falls, I started my record lable which Johnny named SHARK ATTACK! My goal is to put something out for the Yokels when they're ready. Ever since I helped Ray with Rubberband Records, I've wanted to put out something of my own. I'm just gonna do it. Ben is going to guide me along. We're in ca-hoots. We're getting matching robot tattoos. We bonded over Knob Creek which makes us friends for life. Not that I had any doubts.

My love life is yet again in turmoil, which I discovered over the weekend. I'm really ready and anxious to have a boyfriend. I have my "guy" but I want something a little more permanent and concrete. I'm starting to get all wishy wahsy when I see couples holding hands and junk. And there was some talk about me and the ex that made the gears in my head exhausted...how it's too bad we're not still together and how we're more compatible now than we ever were before because we've both changed. It was difficult to hear. Especially when it made things pop in my head. I could see "him" being there with all of us and the two of us goofing off and posing for weird pictures and walking with our arms thrown around each other. It was a bummer to consider. Especially when the guy in my life isn't totally IN my life and doesn't seem to be well recieved by my circle. I know they're looking out for me and say I deserve the best (thanks Ben!) but I made a choice. Now he's just got to choose me, too.

My life is like an After School Special these days. But I love it!

Spend your lives in sin and misery.

HARRY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

I am about to drink something that bubbles and fizzes in order to stop a winter cold in it's track before heading to Niagara Falls this weekend. Should I be afraid? The directions tell me to take it at the first sign of a cold or before entering a crowded area. I'm sort of wigged out. It says it's herbal which always creates a neon flashing sign in my head saying, "VOO DOO".

Today is my birthday, my favorite day of the year. But it's been semi-disappointing. Not necessarily the birthday but the day in general. I woke up knowing the cold was on it's way and that made me slip into crabby mode. Then one of my work buddies essential to my birthday happiness was absent. I got an early morning phone call but it's not the same as an early morning hug. Then someone at work said something that hurt my feelings soooo bad. Usually I'll keep that junk to myself and slap on a fake happy smile but I couldn't this time. I was crushed and now I am feeling very self-conscious. The more the hours passed, the sadder and bluer I felt. I couldn't even throughly enjoy Gilmore Girls. I thought talking to my mom would help shake my birthday blues, but I quit after three rounds of phone tag.

The whole day wasn't a wash. Potsie messaged me entertaining little notes all day, my friends all sent loving comments to cheer me up (even Cult of the Psychic Fetus pretended to be happy boys!!), and I even recieved a birthday e-mail from my ex-husband...he hopes I had a good party (AMAZING party...check!) and a good year (he can't divorce me again so it's already looking up!). So I do feel blessed, just not as "on fire" as I should considering it's my birthday. But it's almost over. Tomorrow I start my new diet which shouldn't be hard considering I'm on my way to Sickville and probably won't have an appetite. AND we resume Pussyfoot Girl practice (and Roxy Roulette is returning soooon to be our fifthm thank GOD...Turkish Coffee is sending me into seizures!). Then on Thursday, I am taking a day off work to get a birth certificate for our Falls trip this weekend, and to travel back to the nightmare city of Kent/Ravenna to FINALLY reclaim my last name and be a Haidet no more! Social Security and the Department of Taxation demand it and who am I to argue?

Party was amazing, family fuction was comforting, 2 out of 3 ain't bad!



I usually worship my birthday. I don't know if it's the cold or my romatic situation or my poor physical imagery but I just feel rotten. I just feel on the verge of tears and that's not how I wanted to ring in 27. This is how I felt last year when 26 nudged it's way into my life:

Today is my favorite day of the year...MY BIRTHDAY! I am 26 and feelin' fine. Better than fine! I almost feel taller today. Fan-fucking-tastic. I was worried that I would be in some wacky birthday slump since this year has been less than stellar, but I gotta say, I think celebrating my birthday was exactly what I needed to make a fresh start! My car is finally going to get fixed, I get to have a kick-ass dinner with Queen B (restaurant of my choice...those little Japanese men at Benihana better be ready for me), and then who knows? Road trip, maybe. Soon I'll be a workin' girl and I won't be able to pick up and skip town at the drop of a hat. Might as well take advantage of my freedom and have a damn fine time in the process! I have it on good authority that my birthday will be spent in a rockin' fashion. That's just the way I like it!!!

Saturday was k-rad and started off with a family dinner which filled my pockets with much needed cash. I'll admit that I wasn't feeling too festive after that but once I got to the Beachland, holy Hell, it was the best birthday I've ever had. Having almost all of my dudes in one place at one time (and let me say that I love all of y'all) just made me realize that damn, life is good. So my Cleveland friends met my Detroit friends and they fell madly in love which makes me so happy. I snagged some gifts...a kick-ass Amazing Crowns pin, the new Lords CD as well as a 2 disc live set, a beautiful necklace that I am never taking off, a fucking rock-n-roll yo-yo from THE yo-yo MASTER, and...whiskey. Oh lawrdy, there was whiskey! I got spanked by the Bishop, kissed by many a boy and girl, and had the intense pleasure of seeing Lisa Marie and Karen go-go dance, hearing Crazy Danny sing "Folsom Prison" and smash his head with a beer bottle, and having Vic Victor pass out in my lap. There was dancin', drinkin', drivin' (the Koffin Kats fuckin' cargo van...YEEHAW), and crashin'...between Johnny Switchblade and Vic Victor who were clearly having a snoring contest. There were many other random occurences...Switchblade was videotaped getting a Holy Water enema, Vic got tea-bagged more than once, and I have about 150 pictures that prove that no one "brings it" better than Cleveland. But maybe we had a LITTLE help from out Detroit brothas. I'm 26 and I rang it in in style. Thanks to everyone who helped!! It was well documented on the PICS page! Some photos are R-rated!

Go out and buy the new Lords of the Highway CD ("Degreaser") right now. It is so damn good. There's nothing else I can say other than it's fucking rad. Every song is just incredible and I can't stop listening to it. Not only are those cats musical power houses, but they are a damn fine group of people in general. So please, go to their website and pick up a copy or head on out to their next live show (check EVENTS for more details). You won't be disappointed and if you are, you are clearly from Canada. Songs 5 and 8 are worth the price alone...not that I paid for mine. That's one of the perks of being a rabid fan and having your birthday celebration coincide with the CD release. SMOOTH!

Only downfall of my Saturday night? Koffin Kats thinking dedicating "Graveyard Tree" to me was a good idea. Bastards.

It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you.

Put rubberbands on my claws and cover me in butter. I'm a crab.

I think maybe it's an "every other year" thing but suddenly I feel very negative abut my birthday. My party was flippin' fantastic, of course. Lords of the Highway played, almost everyone I love came out in their sleepy-time attire, the fella I love showered me in affection (no matter how public the display was, it was appreciated), and I have enough whiskey to bring Johnny Cash back from the grave and then send him right back to Maggot-ville.

BUT...

...and it's a BIG butt...but...whatever...

I'm just very crabby. All I keep picturing is me, tomorrow, at home alone, watching the tube, eating cupcakes. Now while that is a HIGHLY attractive senario and it's making me a little steamy in the drawers...is that what I want to do on my birthday? And not to sound all Carrie Bradshaw or anything, but it really rots to not have a special guy to celebrate my birthday with. Sure, I have a guy...sort of but not REALLY...and I'm not even seeing that guy tomorrow. I guess I want someone (with a penis) to be excited about my birthday and want to make me really happy on that day. It probably sounds selfish but I don't know.

I'm just lonely, I guess. This weekend I was referred to as somebody's "girl" butthere was alcohol involved and I had to take it all with a grain of salt. Maybe I'll be his "girl" some day but I'm not holding my breath or selling myself short. I'm rambling, I know. I just have the blues. Last year around this time, my ex-husband (whom I was separated from at the time...imagine THAT) would just show up in the middle of the night because he wanted to sleep with me (the snoring, spooning kind of sleep, pervert). I want that. I miss that. And there's someone that I already KNOW I want to do that with but I can't because MY LIFE IS A SHAM!!!

I'm sorry. I just needed to vent. I just feel glum.

You can't stop now. It's already begun.

I just finished sucking down some Chinese food. My fortune reads:

The weekend ahead predicts enjoyment.

Of course it does! Saturday is my 27th Birthday Pajama Jam with special guest Lords of the Highway at the Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral. This will be the 6th year in a row than I've added a ring to my tree stump with the Lords. Their cover of "Dirty Deeds" is shaking me at my foundation, and that's being tame. All of my friends are really embracing the slumber party theme which is pretty boss! I haven't decided if I'm taking the slutty route or the sweet one regarding my choice of evening attire but it won't matter. No matter what I wear and mo matter who shows up (and there is some interesting debate about the guest list, *blush*), I'm going to have the most fun. More fun than you (unless you're Carol High Hair who seems to be my party companion...be ready for hugs). But it's my birthday so that's the way it goes! Recognize!

I have a crush. No, not that one! I have a sort of unorthodox crush after watching a video on VH1 Classics. It was the video for "House of the Rising Sun" by The Animals. It's a pretty tame video, as they tended to be then. The band just sort of walks around a stage setting with their instruments while the singer sings. But he sort of looks stoned. And troubled. As if the song context had actually happened to him. He looks like a wrecked man. He can't lip sync very well. He's no Brittney Spears. But man oh man, I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Now I'm going to be obsessed with that song. That guy's probably grotesque and deformed looking if not dead by now. Heart go throb.