I said I wish I could walk like that.

MY HARD DRIVE TOOK A DIVE!

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

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

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

FUCK YOU, KENT OHIO, AND ALL YOUR CRETINS!

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

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

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

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

Have you been overloaded, y'all?

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

Where you lead, I will follow.

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

I might even like the latest Alkaline Trio album.

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

Do you wanna see what's in my trunk?

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

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

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

I went to Detroit for a first date.

I left with a boyfriend.

Only so many tears you can cry.

I am drunk.

Semi-drunk.

At this very moment! On a work night!

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

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

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

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

But for now...

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

Until something mroe dramatic comes along.

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

I have a crush on a boy.

I don't like it.

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

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

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

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

It'll be interesting to see how this ends.

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

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

Mama misses you, kitties!

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

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

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

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

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

Stupid birds.

And don't forget to take a peek!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amen.

There was the ever-present football player rapist.

Decisions, decisions.

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

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

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

Chasin' pretty women cause it makes me feel better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I ain't draggin' her. You drag her!

***EDIT: http://rocknrollsoulsaver.blogspot.com WILL, in fact, be host to the PICTURE (or pictures) OF THE DAY. I'm scrapping the song lyric thing because while I'm into it NOW, I know I'll get tired of it again eventually. I never get tired of goofy pictures of me and my friends. Just please don't masturbate to them.***

So the 30th celebration of Phoebe's birth has come to an end after last night's festivities. Some key guests were absent due to a run away dog (who refuses to put a brand-new dog on a leash?), a supposed birth, a seizing cat (get well soon, Ponch), and alleged family loyalty and accumulating chores. Regardless, it was a good time, even if Potsie only got through 8 minutes of the Hour of Power. The birthday girl seemed quite pleased with the turn out and I was quite pleased that I got to dance with her to that Deke Dickerson song about roasted chicken! Pete, while absent and on a camping trip, was there via video tape, drinking beer, hanging on the coach, and commenting on various party aspects. Clever boy, that Pete.

And we all got our share of the Pussyfoot buttons...and they are H-O-T!!!

While my plan was to drink myself into a coma, spend the night at Casa del Phoebe, and wake up with a monster hangover, that is not what actually took place. I seemed to be on my way, rockin' the 40s, but I hit a detour somewhere. Starting but not finishing Hour of Power set my downward spiral in motion, then I ate 3 pieces of pizza which soaked up a lot of my hard work, and lots of the core kids didn't seem to be drinking their usual quota. Switchblade hasn't been the same since he threw up on his futon, Uncle Ben seemed fairly out of sorts, Tessa doesn't drink, and Little Jen was tired and bailed early.

Tessa had my 2 wedding photos in her wallet. I wanted to cry. I told her to burn them.

Penciled in on my schedule for today is a final event to celebrate Phoebe's 30 years rockin' on this planet: lunch wherever she wants to go! However, I can't be sure if she'll have the desire to go to lunch or the stamina. She could have done 10 table dances, 2 keg stands, and her weight in beer bongs after I left at midnight, for all I know. So I guess I'll hold my growling stomach tight until noon and if I don't hear from her...frown...I'll be forced to make a trip to the grocery store in order to feed the beast. The alternative plan for the day includes cleaning my room, watching a towering pile of borrowed DVDs, and snoozing on and off as I see fit.

So combining last night with Little Jen's interesting 19th birthday shin-dig Friday night, I'd say this was a decent weekend. And I'm supposed to spend the night in the mitten tomorrow night but I'll believe THAT when I see it. Sadly, the week already has a black cloud hanging over it as I will be travelling to Columbus to say good-bye to Josh Johnson and support my Queen B. Keep her and her family in your thoughts, especially on what will be a very rough Tuesday.

Some money & a honey & some whiskey & a gun.

All my thoughts are with Queen B today and yours should be too.

I was having a horrific nightmare about putting the stamp on someone...yeah, you know who...and it was one of those dreams that was so overly upsetting, I could feel the hair standing up on the back of my neck. And then I heard 'Footloose', which just didn't seem to fit the mood. Somehow Queen B knew just when to call and she freed me from my bad dreams...but she had bad news.

Her step-father, who has really been like a father to her for the past 8 years, past away yesterday. He had become very ill, very quickly and this was probably for the best for him since he could barely function but still...it's so sad. She's so strong and was very worried about her mother and I am worried about her. I do not handle death well. I never know what to say to make someone else feel better. I just told her if she needed me, I'd be there.

And that's what's bugging me...I feel like I SHOULD be there. Going to a party seems so trivial now (that is NOT a put down...celebrating Phoebe's 30 birthday is VERY important to me and I've been looking forward to it). I just keep thinking, "What would I want people to do if this happened to me?". But there's really not much I could do if I went there today so I'm going to keep her and her mother in my thoughts and head out for a memorial service. This is such a bummer. That sounds like such a horrific way to describe it. "A bummer".

He told me that I should be a children's book illustrator. He liked Scotch and smoking, Kurt Vonnegut, Ernest Hemmingway, the Ohio State Buckeyes, and a good steak. He was a cool dude that constantly teased me for things going right over my head, in a playful way. Gone too soon.

You'll be missed.

I love you, Becky.

I'm just a fool. A fool in love with you.

Screw the picture of the day. Far too much effor for this kid.

But you CAN check out: http://rocknrollsoulsaver.blogspot.com

I noticed that I was getting way insane about song lyrics again. I have done that in the past...and the blog of Miss Phoebe Bean made me realize that I should be recording said lyrics somewhere other than my ACTUAL precious blog...I need the space to ramble about meaningless nothingness.

I get pretty obsessed about certain songs for certain periods of time for certain reasons. a "jam", if you will. On particular days, I might really get nutty about a song I haven't listened to in years. Or I might hear a song for the first time and feel like I have to share it with the entire inter-ma-jig community. Or something that happens in my days might spark the need to rock out to something specific.

You'll find those lyrics there...Rock-n-Roll Saved My Soul! Feel free to come to your own conclusions about why whatever song is wrecking my brain is...wrecking my brain.

OUT!

Feeding, feeding my rage.

I don't mean to sound all philosphical or Angela Chase-esque or anything, but I think an insignificant piece of fruit has changed everything I have known completely. You're furiously working at your desk to get things done on a particularly busy day and suddenly, a paw appears in front of you with nothing in it besides one rather gigantic green grape. You look up from your paperwork and take the aforementioned grape without a single degree of hesitation and that's it...unless you count the few seconds where you ate the grape, in which case, you eat it and THEN that's it. The whole episode took exactly 4.34 seconds and yet it had the power to totally...fuck things up royally. And you consider that you're blowing the whole ridiculous thing out of proportion but when you discover that other people have an opinion about the exchange of said grape...you know that something has happened.

Make zero sense? I agree. I'm scared.

Today is the 30th anniversary of the day Phoebe Marie Nelson, the future and ex Mrs. Bean and the future and ex Mrs. Grammerstorf, was born! So drink lots of bourbon, dye your hair red, chow down on your Mac-n-Cheese, and forget your belt so the whole office can eyeball your ass cleavage! You've earned it by getting this far in life without your head completely falling off and proceeding to roll out into the street. I could sit here and thank you for a million things but that would be a waste of time as my words of sincerity always come out sounding sarcastic. And I could make a bazillion birthday wishes for you but I think your main one came true last night (I knew you could do it). So just have a great day...even if you spend it in bed, watching 'Sex and the City' and eating the entire cake I made you. It's your birthday...you can do that you want! And I love you...so put that in your frosting and eat it!

I am confused about boys. I'm not sure if it's all boys or particular boys or boys that don't live in Ohio. All I know is that I am millimeters away from becoming a nun with a secret nightlife or a non-practicing lesbian. Take your pick. Something dramatic better happen pretty soon to keep me from crossing my legs for the rest of eternity and becoming a dried berry. Is that so much to ask!?

Helloooooo...you're my very special one.

I just had a series of obscene thoughts. And they're still lingering! I had plans to write about important stuff but how can I be expected to concentrate!?!? I am all kinds of hot-n-bothered! I love having spring fever in the summer time!

If you close the door, the night could last forever.
Keep the sunshine out and say Hello to never.
All the people are dancing and they're havin such fun.
I wish it could happen to me.
But if you close the door, I'd never have to see the day again.

If you close the door, the night could last forever.
Leave the wine glass out and drink a toast to never.
Oh, someday I know someone will look into my eyes...
And say,"Hellooooo...you're my very special one".
But if you close the door, I'd never have to see the day again.

Police are coming. They're on the way.

I can cross The Spits off my list of bands to see. I can add a footnote that they were far superior to what I was expecting. I was expecting sloppy, insane, mega-drunk, thrashing punk rock. That element came from the audience. I stuck in the back with my fellas and did my Pink Ladies dance, especially to "Let Us Play Your Party" and "I H8 Pussies", the songs that stole my Spits virginity. Pick up a pretty kick-ass t-shirt and pins for myself and Switchbalde (who got along famously all day, I might add...not a bickering session between us during our entire evening which included dinner AND "Bad News Bears"...if you take away the kissing, he is Kelly Leak and I am Amanda Whurlitzer...the two best Bears of all).

Sean from The Spits got dumped by his girlfriend. He was looking for gals to give affection to. I leaned over to Switch and said, "I could fuck a Spit". I thought Bean would dig that...she likes when I drop F-bombs. That's one quarter for the swear jar.

But every shows has down sides because life just isn't perfect. It was jam-packed so I felt claustrophoic and firey hot. A certain girl on my S-list was there but that only bugged me for a second. The show sold out during the first band so Lybargally, Spink, and...their friend...had to wait outside for a bouncer to feel sympathetic, which eventually came about but just in the nick of time. And it was $10!!! I understand The Spits are from the northwest but the demographic for this show...some missing teeth, some carrying STDs, some not even out of high school...are not the kind to be able to comfortably shell out 10 bones! Plus, on the down side, there was alway the ever-present "my ex-husband and I can NOT talk to one another or I will cry in public or throw a punch" element. It's rough. I miss my friend...I wanted to talk to him...but he wronged me on so many levels. So it was uncomfortable.

Gary offered to tackle him. Gary is so one of my doods now.

Back to my discomfort...instead of going to see Teengenerate and The Reatards where "they" will be, I am going to sell merch for Lords of the Highway in Rochester...where the FUN will be. No drame there. Nothing but friends who don't screw me over and rockin' good times, followed by a Pussyfoot photo shoot tomorrow with the people I adore. So the weekend actually shaped up nicely (not as nicely as NEXT weekend which has me at 2 parties in a ROW...how DO I DO IT!?!?!). I wanted Lybargally to be able to go and he didn't get a ticket because he didn't know how to deal with the Haidet drama. Now he's there. And Switch will be able to see Teengerate without having to worry about if I feel crummy or not. Not that it doesn't sting that he's there with "them".

But I've got so many damn good things going right now...a best friend who is my number one dood, a bunch of other grade-A pals, a job I love, a hobby that rocks, shows to see, shows to be in, the best, if not the goofiest, family to ever roam the planet, and boy prospects that are looking awfully sharp. I will not let this beat me. I will not let him beat me. I will not become the girl no one wants to be around.

Even if sometimes "tough ain't enough".

I'm gonna love her. I swear, I will.

M-A-double S-A-C-H-U-S-E-double T-S.

I've had "Hometown" by Kings of Nuthin' in my head all the live-long day. It reminds me of the time I saw them in Detroit and Switchblade said, "That guy (Torr Skoog) has a Boston tattoo. He must really like that band". Whenever I tell this story, I have a hard time getting it out because I usually bust out laughing. Most of the time, people don't get it at first but when they do, it's like a throw your hand in the air, shake your head, and say "Oh Johnny" kind of moment. Actual point of all of this? Kings of Nuthin' are brilliant and their music is sexy. Not a "This gets me in the mood" kind of sexy but more like "I'm wearing a red strapless dress and my dancin' shoes" kind of sexy.

Spread my thunder wings and fly.

Switchblade and I fight like an old married couple according to Bean.

I woke up this morning in the Motor City and no, I wasn't kidnapped or teleported or long-distance sleep walking. I was there by choice amidst the stink and the crime and the stupid, constant left turns and pointless detours. I was only there for 12 hours (half of which was spent either snoozing or thinking up new ways to cleverly curse the alarm clock system that exists there) but that was still enough time to watch movies, drink beers, and play a little game I like to call "Wolverine and Jean Gray". It has very specific rules and should only be played by professionals. Or daredevils. Regardless, it's always fun to take a sabatical from my real world...there's nothing like laughing (and a slight hangover) to help you put things into perspective.

I need to write a letter to Tim Sullivan. I slack. And I suck.

Where's my Muppets Magic 8-Ball when I need it? I am trying to decide if I want to go to Atlanta the Saturday of Labor Day weekend for Drive Invasion 2005. Bands (including Nine Pound Hammer...this girl is down with the pound) and B-Movies sounds pretty swanky but I don't want to miss out on any local happenings (and also don't want to rape my snuggle-buddy Bert out of his Labor Day weekend which could be spent chasing the muff around...building a skyscraper...curing canabalism). Final decisions have yet to be made so feel free to bid for my attention and company.

I am totally obsessed with the song "Thunderbird" by TMBG.
Download it and listen...it will grow on you!
DO IT NOW!

I know, I know, I said that I would quit
All right, I promise, no more after this
You don't know how I've tried
To forget what it was like

I remember now
I remember now
Why they called it Thunderbird
Why they called it Thunderbird

Man, oh man, my throat is dry
Man, are you thinking what I
Am? Well what about it then?

Before you fall, you have to learn to crawl
You can't see heaven when you're standing tall
To get the whole sky
On the ground you have to lie

I remember now
I remember now
Why they called it Thunderbird
Why they called it Thunderbird

We like fun, me and my girl
We'll have fun fun fun until
T-bird takes her dad away

I know, I know, I said that I'd desist
All right, I promise, no more after this
Not to be what I was like
Not to soar across the sky
Spread my thunder wings and fly
Spread my thunder wings and fly

I remember now
I remember now
Why they called it Thunderbird
Why they called it Thunderbird

I'm a spy but I'm on your side, you see.

Uncle Ben tried to call my bluff...



...but I never bluff about Hall and Oates!

And Cleveland and I have some things in common...



...we're tough, but we're beat!

What words rhyme with "buried alive"?

If Lisa Lybargally and I had a baby, I would name it Nurse Shark.

They might be bald. They might be snow. They might be something else in the snow. Tabloid footprints in your hair. Tabloid footprints everywhere. We can't be silent cause They Might Be Giants and what are we gonna do unless they are?

Miss Phoebe Bean and I went to see...you guess it...They Might Be Giants, my most favorite band on this planet and others, last night. And while it wasn't the BEST time I've ever seen them, it still made my calves do the Pink Ladies dance until they could shake no more! MPB said I had the most ridiculous grin slapped on my face and that she had never seen me quite so geeked before, which was probably true! I had been counting down the days to this for MONTHS and my adrenaline was so high, that I thought I was going to toss my cookies even though I had only had one plastic bottle of beer!

Interjections (show excitement and emotion...they're generally set apart from a sentence by an exclaimation point or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong): If you go to San Antonio and you're in a band...do NOT drink the frothy drinks that a bartender serves you or you may very well end up in a Vampire movie. Just a word to the wise!

Corn Mo, a man we were VERY wary of, wrote a song called "Jason Kline Cried Today" about a bunch of kids standing behind a building at school, eating sandwiches (my favorite part), which prompting one kid named Jason to take a leak on another kid named Jason. Then he cried because he had to go to class covered in someone else's urine. Pure genius!

Going to see They Might Be Giants really put me in my element...an element that is purely mine since no one else seems to appreciate them to the degree that I do. I needed that...to be in my element...since things have been rough recently and I can't really figure out how to handle the drastic change from things being really flipping good to heartbreaking and back again. It's not good on a person to feel like that...at all. This show helped remind me that things are NOT always bad and they won't always be bad. No matter how dim things seem, they WILL get better...with time. I have to believe that or I will go insane, shave my head, change my name to Argyle and move to Guam.

I would not look good bald, as I've always said.

While I won't remember EVERY song they played...
Alphabet of Nations
Ana Ng
Birdhouse In Your Soul
Clap Your Hands
Damn Good Times
Doctor Worm
Drink
Experimental Film
Fingertips
Istanbul (Not Constantinople)
It's Kickin' In
James K. Polk
Mammal
New York City
Robot Parade
She's an Angel
Snail Shell
Spine
Stalk of Wheat
Working Undercover For the Man
Finale: cover of some Hocus Pocus song with Corn Mo on vocals.
*also played a short first set of quick songs they had written about certain venues they had played on the tour including Anaheim House of Blues, The Egg in Albany, and Mr. Smalls in Pittsburgh.

Genius. Always and forver! Seeing their children's show at 3:00p today!!!

GATES OF HELL!!!

Thank you, Uncle Ben Lybarger, for Hall and Oates.

It was inevitable. My ex-husband and I had to end up in the same place and the same time. But we didn't have to talk to each other. Yet we did. And we shouldn't have. It was so weird to be in the same place, at the same time, as the same people (well, I am the same but I'm pretty sure that at some point he just wigged and lost any trace of being the goofy, carefree dude that I loved), and not be "us".

He tried to make small talk. I tried to explain why it would be best if certain people were kept out of my path. And then my feelings were belittled and I was "blowing this all out of proportion". I'm sorry...but when it floats around that a friend of mine may have been trying to put the moves on my husband...whom I LOVED...I take that seriously. Seriously enough to put the stomp on someone. But he doesn't understand nor care how I feel. Why should he? He walked out on me after all...several times...and tossed the word "love" around like confetti.

And then Bean swoops in like a super heroine declaring "This is accomplishing NOTHING" and "Make your happy call". And my happy call was 15 minutes of sugary bliss that made Bean sick to her stomach which made me purr with joy. It made me very aware of my tiny, ineffectual fists. I am in love with them now...my fists. They may appear ineffectual, but they are incredible, and someone out there appreciates them no matter how small.

My heart feels very sore right now. Possibly because I was forced to say out loud that a few months ago, it had been broken. I wish I had never even suggested that if I COULD (which I CAN'T) that I would want to be friends. I should have just stored that away with the rest of my life's embarrassing moments...like my skater-girl phase.