Get's real mad when I get drunk-o-matic.

Want to have your mind completely blown? Try and wrap it around this. From November 7th to November 18th (that's a 12 day span), I will be going to 9 shows!! 9 shows in 12 days. What a power house! This may be my crowning achievment. This may forever solidify my rocker status. I've been slacking but this might just pull me out from the pits. And quite the assortment too. Can I get a yeehaw?!? I DO need some companions for certain shows. Please feel free to step up.

Where you will find me during the 12 days of Rockmas:
11/7: Hank III @ the Grog Shop.
11/8: OKGO @ the Grog Shop.
11/9: Blasters @ the Grog Shop (might be sacrificed).
11/10 - 11/12: Horrible Fest @ various locations.
11/13: Rasslin' @ the Beachland Ballroom.
11/16: Quintron and Miss Pussycat @ the Grog Shop.
11/18: Sasquatch and teh Sick-a-Billies @ Beachland Tavern.

Speaking of shows.

Our Pussyfoot show on Saturday night was...interesting...to say the very least. I think we put on quite the show, per usual, but this being a private party (for Jimbo's home coming), I'm not sure how well-recieved we were. 4 gals prancing around in their britches to the best rock-n-roll around...in front of grandma and grandpa and some disapproving folk. Yikes. Usually, no matter who's watching, we have fun. I think this may have been the first time we let the heat get to us and didn't have such a swell time.

But we're not going to let one show break our spirits. Every band (and what not) has shady shows. It happens. We did it for Jimbo and that's what counts. We're going to bounce back for Devil Doll (this Saturday at the Beachland Ballroom) and bounce back even HIGHER for the Rockbailly Holiday which we will be performing at AND hostessing this winter. Don't fret. This isn't the last you've seen of The Pussyfoot Girls (even if you were PRAYING we'd go away). As the wise Dave Sasquatch once said, we must get our slights and downfalls and use it as fuel to be bigger and better next time around...help it bring us to that next level.

Next level...here come The Pussyfoot Girls!

They're big and round. They're all around.

Quick summary?

I'm still in cheese sandwich despite people's efforts to squash my (unrealistic) dreams. I can live with that. What I can't live without (for the time being) is the thrill I get from this fella. He's worth the risk...risking my heart splitting in two, never to rejoin again. I even discovered the lengths to which I'd go to save his life. But I don't want to make all y'all throw up.

I do have a lot on my mind. It's very crowded and it's giving me a headache. But everyone suffers. It's the American way!

Had Pussyfoot practice tonight in preparation for Jimbo's Welcom Home shin-dig this weekend and opening up for Devil Doll at the Beachland (main stage, baby) next Saturday, the 29th. We're using our Lime Spider set but we have big things planned for the Rockabilly Holiday this winter. A taste or two? You might see a new closing number. You might see some individual dishes (I'm tossing around the idea of using "Orgasomatic" by The Heptanes or "Get On Your Knees" by Devil Dogs). You might even see some tight skirts and tight sweaters. Just know that you'll be entertained. Not sure if that's good or bad for YOU but we always have a damn good time,a s They Might Be Giants, and countless others, would say.

Tomorrow, there's a pajama jam at my house for any of my nearest and dearest. Eating Chinese food and watching "A Dirty Shame" in our pajamas at The Ol' Kentucky Shark Corral. More info if you ask reeeeeaaaaaal nice!

Chicken on the fire. Object of my desire.

I survived the weekend to everyone concerned about me. I am alive.

While Friday night's pre-wedding party was a blast and a half (I was blanketed in people who love and take care of me), the actual wedding was a bit rougher on me than I had predicted. Luckily, I had Switchblade (he can actually be quite comforting when he needs to be) and Potsie (my mother truckin' hero) there to take care of me and I came out on top. I can't see myself having to deal with the ex (or his new girlfriend who was in attendance for the wedding) any time soon. And to be honest, when Ben and Lisa move (sniff sniff), I can't really see running into him anywhere but the occasional show...not at any social engagements anyway. We don't share many common friends these days. So...my heart is on the mend. My wedding bell blues was merely a slip up!

I was invited out for a post-work cocktail with the man I cheese sandwich. I figure I am really falling hard because I could sit there and listen to him talk forever. It's like my favorite thing to do. He's helping me become a championship listener. He's helping me do a lot of things I didn't think I could do. Swoon.

But what's really important is taking the time to congratulate Ben and Lisa and thank them for letting me be a part of their special day. It was a great event. Sorry if I got too drunk. But where Lisa is concerned, I'm not sure there's any such thing as TOO drunk! Anyway, thanks guys. Deep down under all of my anti-marriage layers, I'm truly happy for you.

I am fairly certain I am going to toss. Chicken fingers ain't sittin' pretty.

She's touring the facility and picking up slack.

Today things were slightly odd between me and my fella. Phoebe sent me a text message that put my mind temporarily at ease: "I'm sure he is just thinking too much. He faxes you. Don't sweat it". 'Fax' is the Phoebe version of 'cheese sandwich'. I don't know if she really thinks that (about all the faxing going on) or if she was trying to appease me because my mind is going one bazillion miles an hour about the subject and I have ENOUGH on my plate for the weekend. I don't think she'd say it unless she thought there was a chance. Regardless, the sentiment totally made me want to fax her a cheese sandwich.

And why will this weekend me so tuff for me?

To be honest, I shouldn't even be ON HERE! I snuck out of work early just because I have one gazillion things to do and sadly, I do not have one gazillion hours to do them in. I think I just need a half an hour or so to chill and get my head in the game or I'm liable to fucking explode between now and Monday. I don't think anyone wants that. Blood and brains never look good on a wedding dress. Here's how my whirlwind of a weekend is shaping up:

Friday: Tonight is the pre-wedding party which Johnny is sure witll be "a rager". I am on snack patrol. Crossing my fingers that my ex-husband won't be there but won't sweat it if he is. I have lots of back up to help me be comfortable. But while that event will be FUN...there is so much to do BEFORE! I need to clean my car out, clean up my house (which is bieng turned into a hotle over the weekend, or so it seems), go to the bank, go get snacks...sheesh! Can't stay out toooo late cause I plan on cutting loose tomorrow, which is...

Saturday: ...wedding day. Pre-wedding, I have to finishin cleaning, get some beverages for my guests, dye my hair, buy birthday presents for my nephews, get a wedding card, go get my hair DONE, bathe, paint toenails, have a manicure, groom in general, dress, make sure my date doesn't have a hangover and has at least brushed his hair, and get to the place on time and PRAY Alicia doesn't forget my fan (I don't want to be the only bridesmaid without a fan). OH! And I CAN NOT forget Ben's gold tossing coins. DAMN IT!

Why do they leave things to remember up to the person with the WORST MEMORY?!? The wedding will rock as long as I don't trip and eat dirt. But being at a wedding...with my ex-husband...it's going to kill. Hardcore. And no one will understand how I feel. Luckily, I have a kick-ass date (who assured me he's been practicing his cuddling for afterwards), Phoebe will be there to tell me to stand up straight, the Shoe-Lanes ALWAYS have my back...so I should be OK. Even when Ben talks about divorce in his vows. It's just...this guy...my ex...it hurts. But it's getting better thanks to a healthy heaping of cheese sandwiches!!! After I DON'T TRIP walking down the aisle and walk out arm-in-arm with Dennis A. Bell, I'm gonna get drunk, I'm gonna dance with Phoebe and Danny, and I'm going to hit Sugarball's gong with my ASS! YEEEEEEEHAW!

Sunday: If i'm still alive on Sunday, I have to go to a family function for my rocker nephew followed by the post-wedding brunch at Tom and Carol's. The rest of the day...recovery. I'll need it. Fuck Human Eye and Kill the Hippies, man. There's no way I can swing that...rocker or not. Plus, I'm not sure I can take three days in a row of my ex-husband. My hearts healing but for fuck's sake, it's not made of chrome.

So...there you have it. Three days of insanity.

And besides all that, I have an elephant sitting on my brain.

An elephant eating a cheese sandwich.

If you want it enough to cry for it, you'll find love.

Let's get right to the point. No pussyfooting around.

I can't say the "L" word. You know the one. No, not "lesbian". The OTHER "L" word. The "I *insert L word here* you" word. Even with my husband, I had to psych myself up when I wanted to say it because we just never did...ever. It made me feel like a loser to be honest.

But I WANT to be able to say it! Maybe not ALL the time so it loses it's meaning, like the phrase "cheese sandwich" (if you haven't seen the movie "Love & Sex", see it...it's witty and funny and charming and brilliant and I love Phoebe for making me watch it). In fact, I am going to say " I cheese sandwich you" or just plain old "cheese sandwich" to express my sentiments from now on.

I mean, I can say love. LOVE LOVE LOVE! Just not to a man that I love or, as we learned today, to THE man that I love. I know you're probably flipping out and wondering how the HELL I can be in love so out of the blue or WHY I'm in love with the dude I am. It's not so out of the blue...it's been growing and festering and oozing.

Boy oh boy, did I start pussyfootin' or what?!?! I think I'm still in shock.

I spilled my guts today. Gave my heart to someone which I didn't really think was possible. But never said the "L" word. I danced around it and I am NOT a good dancer. Early on, I said I had something to tell him...managed to drag that out all day. He told me that I could tell him anything. He suspected that maybe I had "found someone". He was expecting the worst. Finally, after many start-n-stop moments, many deep breaths, him patiently waiting but impatiently wondering and saying, "What does it SOUND like?"...I said the following brilliant words...

"It sounds like 'I think...', well, it's SIMILAR to 'I think...I like you A WHOLE LOT'...but it's WAY bigger than that". (Translations: I think I'm falling in love with you).

And then I ran away.

Smooth, huh?

No matter how ridiculous the whole mess was, he didn't avoid me. He called me and laughed with me about it...seemed genuinely stunned but not against it. Wanted to talk more about my semi-cryptic message but respected that I just COULDN'T at the moment because I was FREAKING...like it was the first time I had "cheese sandwich"-ed a guy. In all actuality, I'm not getting my hopes up that he will "cheese sandwich" me or that anything more that what HAS happened WILL happened...but my Ipod does (wink). But I said what I needed to say...or at least a version of it.

AND I FEEL INVINCIBLE!

Please stay. You're too old to run away.

Friday night was out of sight!

Jimbo is home!!! And I am an honorary Hissem! I passed out on him circa 4:00a on the way home from the Wayne Hancock show. It was a fantastic evening. I got to dance with Greg Yanito, Cleveland's best dancer, which made me feel like a princess. He is a smooth character. I also saw my pal Aaron Weiss for the first time sine I declared that he was my current crush. That is NOT a bad thing. Crushes are healthy. Still...he may have been uncomfortable. Not sure. Either that or, as Ashlee suggested, he's retarded. I guess they're playing the Jigsaw's grand opening with us. That should be a hoot and a half. I'd claim I'd stay sober but that's a lie. I need liquid courage to shake my groove thang.

And that Jigsaw business is news in itself! We were asked to play the grand opening of the Jigsaw's concert venue. I'm pretty jazzed. The line-up thus far is Honkeytonk Damnation, Whiskey Daredevils, and The Pussyfoot Girls...and I guarantee it will be a damn fine show. We get better and better as the seconds go by. And besides playing Jimbo's welcome home party, we're also the hostesses of the Rockabilly Holiday. Pretty swanky indeed! We hope to see you at both the Jigsaw and the Beachland!!! Don't you want to see us strut our stuff?

Tonight I went to see Reigning Sound at the Beachland and while they were fantastic, they were not worth $12 and they didn't even play GET IT!!! But I did talk to Greg Oblivian after running back to the Beachland since I didn't close my tab. No matter how many times I remind myself...oh well. My arch-enemy was at the show but that was fine. I'm over it. I'm over that whole period in my life. I've moved on to bigger, better, and more confusing times in my life, no doubt! I don't need to worry about small fries.

I DID get to hear "We Repel Each Other" which reminds me of my relationship with my ex-husband...something I never want to be reminded of. But he literally slipped in my head and out in a span of 3.7 seconds. I am beginnning to think I am on way to being totally over it. My heart belongs to someone else (no matter how sick and twisted that is) and I can't even really remember why I loved him in the first place. I just know that all this Ben and Lisa wedding stuff is going to be rough. Watching my friends exchange goofy words of love and commitment, standing across from the man I loved and wanted a life with...it's all so mess up. But what can a girl do?

Looks like Johnny and I MIGHT be on the mend. I haven't decided yet. It seemed pretty much like old times but I could still see him saying he didn't want to be "best friends" and that puts a sour taste in my mouth.

When did living get so hard?

My love must be a kind of blind love.

I could have gone to see Throw Rag tonight but, hmph, they are NOT worth twelve bones. And I really didn't want to see my ex-husband there. Especially not after a pre-wedding informational jam session. All I thought about was my own wedding and how my fella didn't even seem that interested...he didn't even take a shower that day. Double hmph. I was feeling pretty low. Was pretty snippy. If I would have seen him, it would have made me feel worse and I would have been filled with hate and loathing and disgust. I don't need my pals to see my like that.

What did I do instead???

I went to a bar with Carol and we ranted and raved and ate and drank beer! And Tommy Bones showed up and we drank more beer and did a shot! It was a fantastic evening. If I would have come home, I would have been kicking myself for letting my ex-husband indirectly didctate my social engagements. It's bad enough I'll have to see him at the pre-wedding party next weekend AND the wedding. I mean, I seriously don't need to punch myself in the face on PURPOSE. For real. And Throw Rag wasn't even that good last time I saw them.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooo...

Tonight ended up being a good night. Good end to a good day all around. First a boy passes me a note, then I find out The Pussyfoot Girls may be playing the grand opening of The Jigsaw's brand new concert venue, then I get officially paired up with DAB for the wedding, and then I get to go out with the coolest couple in town. AND Potsie sent me text messages about thongs!!! Sweet!!! It really was a good day.

Now if I could only find a better, sexier dress to wear to the wedding. I thought I had something good looking but it doesn't match up. So it looks like I'll have to go shopping. OH DRAT!!!

Put your lips to mine with your kiss of fire.

Today, a boy passed me a note. It was very fifth grade. I like to tell people that it happened between history and geometry. We pretended like we didn't even see each other and then there was the switch. It went off without...well...a hitch. Didn't plan on rhyming there. Swooooon!

Can a heart still break once it's stopped beating? The age old question.

Had a hot date last night...with Miss Phoebe Bean! She doesn't want me to be her girlfriend though. Boo. We ate way too many movie snacks (she blames me for her new buttery popcorn and Snow-Caps obsession...I like a 5 kernal to 3 cap ration) and saw "Corpse Bride". It is not a movie divorced girls should see. It's nuts to think that a movie about a boy accidentally marrying a dead girl could reflect your life so perfectly...but it did...and it broke my heart all over again. But then a boy passed me a note. Swoooooooon!

There was this whole sequence where Emily, the Corpse Bride, was coming to terms with her life/death/whatever. And she said, "I was a bride once and my dreams were taken from me. Now I am taking someone else's. I love you...but you're not mine". OUCH! Hit me where it hurts. Made me start revaluate things that are currently going on in my life or had gone on at the beginning of this year. I felt very small and jerky. Almost couldn't fall asleep...HA HA HA! That was so a lie. I can sleep anywhere at any time! But I did feel slightly awful...until a boy passed me a note...and then I didn't care how my dreams were previously crushed or if I was crushing someone else's. All I did was swooooooooooon!

Swoon! Swoon! Swoon!

CAP GUN COWBOYS' LAST STAND TOMORROW NIGHT!

I'll be there in my horse shoe skirt. Will you? I mean, not in my skirt. Will you be there at the VENUE saying good-bye to Greg and HELLO to JIMBO? Rocking to CGC'c cover of "My One Desire". You should be. And we should dance!

I'll give you strength. I'll help you carry on.

My friends, the Ol' Kentucky Sharks, all chipped in and bought me a beautiful accoustic Fender for my housewarming with a card that read, "So you can rock more than you already do". I wanted to cry but opted to hold on to the guitar that I named Joe Strummer and just drink it all in. I now know for certain...for the first time in my life...that these people are going to be in my life forever. Not just because they buy me things (though that IS nice), but because they inspire me, make me laugh, support me and so much more. They are the most incredible group of people I have ever known, those crazy Sharks, and I think that if I hadn't gone through the horrific year I have, I might not appreciate them as much as should and as much as I do. Maybe what's happened to me DID happen for a reason...so I would finally find a place where I belong. So outside of a broken toe and a burned elbow (insane combination and I have no explaination), it was the best party I've ever had.



Thanks for everything, Sharks. I would like to have all of your babies.

As I recall, you've got what I need!

Good morning, Sunshine! It's par-tay day!

House Warming Party To-Do List:
-go to work before the sun even comes up.
-dick around in the warehouse.
-drive to Massillon to deliver a couch.
-eat a quick brunch.
-eat a piece of cake.
-take a MUCH needed nap.
-pray that Phoebe does the shopping because I don't want to.
-finish cleaning my room.
-make a party play list.
-shower and groom.
-put my tiara on.
-say, "I hear Carol!!!".
-DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!
-DANCE!
-FREAK OUT when Crazy Danny shows up!
-kiss and hug Crazy Danny LIKE CRAZY!
-do shots.
-mingle.
-act a fool with Ben Lybarger.

And everything after that will be a BLUR!

It's about time for a party at my house and it wouldn't be the same without you. No, not at all! As I recall...

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

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

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

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

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

Guess you didn't want something new.

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

The prettiest green eyes anywhere.

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

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

:::snicker:::

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

Don't think that it bothers me at all.

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

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

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

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

I'm just plain...old.

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

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

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

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

If I had those golden dreams of my yesterday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never to be mine no matter how I try.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My baby just looks so right!

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

Vista Cruisers
40 Thieves

We'll all be rockin' out!

Life's a joke but what a punchline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Sitting in your room, conversing all alone.

I have an ear infection. Ear infections make me cranky. They make my face tender. They make me walk funny and bury myself under a mountain of blankets and heating pads. Ear Infection Mountain. Ear infections make me have less than stellar days at work. I try to yuck it up like the clown I am but I end up crashing and burning in the end. Have I mentioned that I HATE ear infections and that they have ruled most of my life? Ear infections are second only to sore throats which are the most miserable conditions possible.

Making future plans to NOT sleep on a guy's couch help...a little.

I hate being sick! Especially when I have things going on like work and shows and laundry and dishes and bathing...yes, bathing is a chore when I am ill. I tend to get a little fuzzy in the brain which leads to me waking up under water, usually with shampoo in my eyes...which leads to screaming, which scares the cats. And bathing in itself is rank but who can stand long enough to take a propper shower when they are leeeeeeaaaaannnning to the right and then leeeeeeaaaaannnning to the left? Damn you, equillibrium! You're not the boss of me.

I am going to go make some S'Mores and then bury myself. See y'all when this is over.

Everyone's lookin' to see if it was you.

I need another weekend just to recover from THIS weekend. Phew!

Post-dress rehearsal on Friday, Switchblade and I were the only people at a late night showing of "Bewitched" which means we were also the only people to walk out of it. The theater didn't even have good candy and I want my $7.25 back. The only other movies I've ever walked out of were the McCauly Culkin version of The Nutcracker and "Fight Club". I get a lot of flack for that so I'll be giving it a second chance. I will be setting "Bewitched" on fire, though.

I spent all of Saturday morning buying presents for somebody's special Twenty Ten birthday that's right around the corner. Spending money brings me nothing but bliss and glee. Shopping is the flippin' best therapy.

Our show at Leroy Thompson Choppers was AMAZING if I do say so myself. We had a huge crowd (poor children are going to have nightmares) and everyone seemed pretty into our goofiness...even if they did look at us like we were the living dead when we walked in, parading around in our knickers. No shame! But I am so proud of us. I really think we all deserve a pat on the back...no, I think we deserve a back massage!! And I got lots of compliments on the chair dance which made me beam with pride. And speaking of beaming with pride, Eerie and Keen came and congratulated me like two proud parents. They seemed quite impressed which made the whole evening worth it! We were interviewed by a magazine, paid (ch-ching!), and spent the rest of the evening running around the parking lot like excited children, snapping photos and causing chaos.

But the best part of my evening was after the show was over and I made a long distance call.

It's such a geat feeling to be so mega-geeked about your life and your accomplishments and hear someone tell you how proud they are of you and how happy they are for you and know that they sincerely mean it. I could hear the excitement in his voice for me and I knew he meant it when he said he wished he had been there. I covered every square inch of the parking lot just walking and talking and laughing my head off...having one of the best phone conversations I have ever had. If I wasn't totally jacked up enough by our stellar performance, I was utterly high by the time I hung up the phone. All it took to make my day was 16 minutes at midnight.

Switchblade says one day I'll admit I love him. Bean told a dude I was on the phone with my future husband.

All I've got to say in regards to this fella...Clarence...is that I suppose...I GUESS...she can touch YOU (for now) but she better stay away from my alarm clock! That really burned my toast! I'm the only one who gets to complain about that ridiculous system. Turning off the alarm every 5 minutes for three thousand hours makes me cranky. Maybe that's why I hate your dog. Cause I'm too sleepy. But like I said...I'll TRY to learn to love him...but only for you.

But don't expect to find me playing fetch with that dunce or saying "Good boy, Pete" any time soon!

I spent my Sunday on Head Hunter Island. No joke. The story goes like this: I was on vacation with some of The Pussyfoot Girls (Mamacita/Hot Lips had to stay home and study and Roxy Roulette had to work) and we walked into this bar where a bartender said we should check out Party Island. But this total doof named Wrong Way sent us to Head Hunter Island! So I shouted, "HEY! If this is PARTY Island, why does this say HEAD HUNTER Island?!?!?" (it was an award winning performance by me). And then the Head Hunters came. They put us in a boiling hot, steaming kettle and had the NERVE to put carrots in it, trying to make Pussyfoot STEW! But then HOORAY! Lords of the Highway surfed in, axed the Head Hunters, and saved us! I even got to kiss that cutie Pete (my hero) and the next thing you know, we were on Party Island, rockin' out because anywhere the Lords are, THAT is Party Island! Beach Party style dancin' commenced. Good times. Good times.



So...phew! What a weekend! I LOVED IT!

Times won't always be as hard as these.

Boy oh boy, am I glad that I didn't let my crippling stage fright keep me from joining The Pussyfoot Girls. The shows and the practices have been some of the best times I've had in my entire life and when I think about the fact that I didn't plan to continue beyond the first show, I could just kick myself square in the brain. Absurd. This has given me a hobby that I really enjoy, an opportunity to spend time with the coolest gals I know, and let's face it, a chance to run around town in my knickers, shaking my jugs and slappin' my friends on the ass. Don't act like you don't wish you could do that too!

And tonight's show should be especially rockin' and rollin', to say the very least. We've busted our asses for the past few weeks, doubled our set length, tightened up, and I really think it should be a highly entertaining way to spend my Saturday. Especially after I use up all of my drink tickets...and yours! Switchblade promised to have some new material which is something to look forward to. Not that "Lacey, what would your mother think?" and "Cover yourself!" weren't some real gems in themselves. And a little birdie mentioned that Eerie might be coming, which will be so flippin' rad since I'm beginning to think she's a figment of my imagination.

So come on out to the 2nd Annual Rockabilly Deluxe Rat Rod and Bike Show at Leroy Thompson Choppers in Mentor...and enjoy The Pussyfoot Girls, Lords of the Highway and more in the great outdoors! Rumor has it we'll be performing on a flat bed truck! How rock-n-roll is THAT? I'm hoping to rumble with some old school bikers and have a new school chopper guy rescue me. What a way to spend the day! But if you MUST miss out because you're having a liver transplant or your cactus died in a fire or your feet hurt from having 9 blisters or you have you children for the weekend, here is the set list you'll be missing out on (* features yours turly):

*Intros: instrumental
You Really Got Me by The Kinks
*Love Me Like Crazy by Cave Catt Sammy
*Itchy Pussy by Hillbilly Varmints (performed by Queen La Tata)
Whiplash by Big John Bates (scarf dance)
Heebie Jeebies by Nick Curran
*Mustang by The Kinfolks (chair dance)
*Whore For the Devil by The Hangmen
Rock Lobster by the B-52s
Loretta by Nervous Eaters covered by Neko Case
*Finale: Little Demon by Screamin' Jay Hawkins

3 arms wrapped around me and 2 arms hold me tight.

I guess Ghoulies aren't go.

As you will see from days gone by, I listed the Groovie Ghoulies show under me "to do" list and it looked as follows: Wed. July 7 * Groovie Ghoulies, Vista Cruisers, Teenage Bottle Rockets, Teenage Harlots * Lime Spider * 9:30PM * $5 21 and over, $10 18-20 unless otherwise noted.

As you may have picked up on, my facts are contradicting themselves as YESTERDAY was Wednesday but TODAY was the 7th. Upon transfering the information from this site to my travelling schedule that I never leave home without, I plopped the event down in today's box. Sadly...it was yesterday that the Groovie Ghoulies rocked Akron. I have missed them once again and managed to make Switchblade miss them. I feel like a toad. A slimy worthless toad that always seems to be under people's boots at the wrong time.

Sorry Johnny.

As far as all the rubbish going on in my tiny, little life goes, it's just gotten more stinky and more rotten. You will notice, or maybe you have to be informed, that this gunk was brought to my attention, I accepted it as fact, I reacted. Now it seems as if the two parties involved have conflicting stories. It's possible that one is lying to save face. It's possible that the other exaggerates when drunk. All I know is that my feelings were/are so badly hurt that I cried at work and decided that physical action (i.e. "putting the stamp on" someone) was the best route...and I was totally supported in that course of action.

I'm putting that on the back burner for now...but that doesn't mean that I'm not burning hot with firey anger. No matter who said or did what, one of the gruesome twosome was not being a good friend when they should have been (i.e. hanging out with my husband while we hit rocky times but still claiming to support me while my chest was ripped open...you guessed it...Indiana Jones-style). So my head is swimming.

And I hate "i.e."...a lot.

BUT...as Ice Cube has always so eloquently said...TODAY WAS A GOOD DAY. I mean, really good. Damn good. And I appreciated every second of it. I really took the time to stop and think, "Hey, today really rocks. I feel good. I can ignore the flies that are swarming for the time being". I hope there is a repeat performance tomorrow. I sure could stand that. Thanks to everyone who made it a really fantastic Thursday...or at least it WAS fantastic until I realized I messed up where the Ghoulies were concerned. Ribbet!

THIS SATURDAY July 9th at 6:00
The 2nd Annual Rockabilly Deluxe
Old Custom Rat Rod and Bike Show
Leroy Thompson Choppers in Mentor

Entertainment by:
Lords of the Highway
Cool-Aide
The Pussyfoot Girls (9:00p, y'all)
Buck Stevens and the Buckshots

Food and beverages, too! YEEHAW!

Drink up, dreamers. You're running dry.

I WILL BE AT THESE EVENTS...you will be hexed by a beautiful stranger!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fri. Aug. 5 * Peelander-Z * Beachalnd Tavern * 9PM * $6

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here I am pumping those hips.

"A true friend stabs you in the front"---Oscar Wilde.

I would like to think that I have the magical power to learn a valuable lesson or take something good out of the grotesque and horrific, yet sickeningly amusing, day I've had which will most likely be labled "The Worst Day of My Life, For Serious"...unless either of my parents die or their house catches fire with all my stuff in their basement or my car explodes with me in it. I would actaully describe this day as being something akin to pineapple-eating Nazis, because that is the most stomach-churning thing I can think of, no matter how hot Nazis may look in movies.

The lesson I have potentially learned is to respect my friends...the ones I have left...the ones that I know actually love and care about me. I'm going to treat those stupid, filthy, sons-of-bitches like GOLD from now on BECAUSE: I am now a strict believer of the 'do unto others as you would have them to to you' policy. No one (not NO ONE...just some of the people I need to do it) seems to want to take the time, lazy lame-asses, to step into my kicks and take the few seconds required to consider how I might be feeling. So I wonder, "Do I do the same where others are concerned?". Well, I flippin' do now, you better believe it! My feelings are being disregarded and squashed left and right like a grape or an eyeball, if you're feeling all gore-ish, and I don't want to be responsible for making ANYONE that I care about or have the nerve to call "my friend" feel small or crushed or heartbroken. I want to be able to be counted on and trusted and respected. If you call me your friend and I have recently wronged you, just know...I feel pretty damn bad about it.

QUOTE OF THE DAY: Heartless. You and I are going to find a new group that doesn't know ________. I am not going to let people keep rubbing this in your face, Assholes. ---one of the most wise people I know (and adore).

And now for a moment of surliness: there are about a bazillion available people on this planet. Why does everyone feel the need to dip their toes in the same pond and then rub the burning muck in your eyes over and over? That's what I want to know because it shocks the Hell out of me. And if we reference the above life lesson, I think that I must have done something really horrific to a certain broad who shall remain nameless because she certainly is curently feeding me something despicable. I guess that's what you get for trying to be supportive and letting someone cry on your shoulders in the past. You get the sharp shaft of reality shoved up your ass.

End surliness and begin realism.

You can't trust anyone, and that's a sad fact.

If you DO trust people, they end up doing hurtful things... I'm sure I've been there as well. And the 4 fools that I do trust most in the world, well, they are a scattered bunch, not by any fault of their own. With one in Columbus, one in Detroit, one who leads a mega-busy life (and has her own compliacted life issues) and one who hears far too much about my broken blood-pumper and rotting will...it's hard to get that one-on-one, face-to-face, "can we make with the love just so I don't have to feel like THIS" kind of comforting. Plus, I don't dig "the muff". Girls are more of a headache than guys, this I know first hand because I, myself, have a vagina.

So allow me to reiterate again and hopefully for the last time...I am hurting and having a hard time. This will probably continue on for awhile considering I just RECENTLY had my knees kicked out from under me once again. Please put yourself in my situation and gauge how you would react if all this rubbish happened to you...I bet you wouldn't be so hasty to just brush me off. Or maybe you would...in which case you are a total jerkoff. But I bet you'd see that my reactions are totally normal and that, all in all, I'm dealing with it all pretty well and deserve a high five and not the boot.

And to the people who have recently been my support system and totally back me up and say I have every right to feel like garbage and every right to say my mind is blown and every right to just flip my mutha-truckin' lid: I love you and would like to have all of your babies. I will name them after different kinds of sharks. Woot! Woot!

I promise to toughen up.

Just call me Beatrix Kiddo.

She kicked the shit out of everyone in town and still cried tears of joy in the end.

I'm just drivin' nails in my coffin (the tail end).

***please don't neglect my guestbook down yonder...it is like a lonely empty vagina***

Happy Birthday American, you old so-and-so.

Making it to Winston-Salem, NC in less than the 7.5 allotted hours was a rockin' good way to start our Heavy Rebel weekend, though my ass would tell you otherwise...maybe I better toss in here that it was sore from driving from Cleveland. Yes, my ass drove us there. Regardless, it didn't hurt that we had a pretty swank hotel room...a suite if you will...right next to Carol "Mutha-Fuckah" High Hair and Tommy "Ho Ho Ho Awhoooooooo" Bones. Those kids can synchronize swim, let me tell you sir! And they even made up an Ol' Kentucky Sharks dance Esther Williams-style! Yeeeeeehaw!

Speaking of "yeehaw", I wore a cowboy hat ALL WEEKEND and am pretty sure that I should wear it every day for the rest of my little life! It is very seldom that I find a fashion trend that works for me and hats are USUALLY a bad idea for anyone. This one...hot stuff.

And speaking of "hot stuff"...

The crop of fellas at the Millenium Center had vastly improved from last year but this was still a "no-flirt" weekend. Compare that to an "all-skate". I wanted this to be about friends and drinkin' and tunes and not worrying about some dude and what he's doing. I do that enough during the week. It seems that my travelling companions didn't have a hard time securing weekend company of the male-persuasion and I saulte them for their tom-foolery! Regardless, it was good to be back at the Heavy Rebel Weekender. I could sit around and go band-by-band-by-band-by-band but HOLY COW, that would be a yawner, so I'll just give you my weekend Top Five and then go right to the juicy tid bits:

Red Hot Poker Dots were incredibly...incredible! They were talented musicians from Australia, cute as buttons (the gal's bass was bigger than she was), and sang a song called "Pony Pot Pie". How cute is THAT?! I love them and you should love them too.

The Brimstones were the band I rocked the hardest to. At the last second I remembered they were playing but I caught a fan-fucking-tastic finale that include "Louie Louie", "Surfin' Bird", "Gloria", and "Steppin' Stone". My dancin' shoes were fiery hot.

Kings of Nuthin'...well...all I can say is HOT DAMN and their new album is going to be SO RAD when it is completed. "Rhythm and Booze", be sure to get it. And Torr Skoog, though I did not flirt with you ("no-flirt"), I did feel a little tingle in my nether region when you were on stage...and when you took your teeth out and put them in your pocket.

Psychocharger not only covered their naked bodies in molasses and were then feathered (and I mean FEATHERED...straight from the pillow), but they dedicated "Devil Snake" to yours truly because Jimmy knows I am "having a rough time".

And with the honor of being seen TWO TIMES in one weekend, God damn, Sasquatch and the Sick-a-Billys. Amazing. Just flat out amazing. If you haven't heard of or seen them, shoot yourself in the foot...and then hop to it! So there you go...my Top 5 of the weekend.

I will give a runner-up high five to Rock-Ola for having a darling accordion player. I chatted with her about my accordion. I was obviously more excited about it than she.

And I should also give a shot to Straight 8's for just rockin' in general...and for having a hot bass player that we like to take pictures of. I was more than obliged to start doing my two leg dance move that Carol supposedly loves to "Mean Go Getter" and "Candy Doll". Those two tunes paved the way for the rock hard calves and thighs that are currently torturing me.

Sheeeeeeeesh...I just can't stop puckering up to the luscious cheeks of Lords of the Highway either. They ruled the event, per usual, per year. "King of the Ville" may be my new favorite song of theirs. The yelp that Sugar releases during the chorus is infectious. I would like to do it once a day to help me relieve stress.

Other highlights included Thee Merry Widows, whom I could NOT get into despite the hype (same goes for Jerry King and the Rivertown Ramblers, as well as the Blind Pharohs), covering "Holy Hack Jack", the bass player for Blatant Finger rockin' out in the nude, Pete Yorko in his leopard skivvies, all of my crazy drunk pals shouting the Ol' Kentucky Shark motto (and getting a sweeeeeet shark belt buckle that you wish you had), howling to "King of the Ville", early morning swim-a-thon, Mad Libs, PIDDLE, continental breakfast, imitating Crazy Danny imitating Sparky, BOOB SCOTCH, KY jelly during 7 Shot Screamers, stealing the American flag and singing to it...and parading it around the pool area, running head first into wooden signs, the entertainment that is a drunk Uncle Ben, spooning with a tall boy (my favorite kind of boy), free fondue fountain, buying weekend treats (a Brimstones t-shirt, a long sleeve Sourpuss shirt, 4 stickers, and a new purse/bag, PLUS the world's best belt buckle), the most satisfying grilled cheese sandwichs, and then ZOOM ZOOM ZOOM to Kings of Nuthin' who were rockin' and hot, per usual.

Some downsides included a Saturday morning sunburn that is still raping my skin with more force by the second, some sharks and shark asociates getting busted for smoking the dope, mysterious cuts, bruises, knots, and sore muscles, losing my voice on Saturday night (it's about to go again), 12:07a passing 3 times and no kiss from my kissing buddy (a total "non-flirt" thing), other people's weird moods affecting my good mood, and a $120 speeding ticket for Little Jenny Penny.

But overall, it was so flipping worth it and I am already counting down the days until next year! I'm sure I'm forgetting plenty of important "goings-on" but what can you do? And I hope to have pictures ASAP to share with all y'all so keep your eyes peeled!

Ho ho ho....awhooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

I'm just drivin' nails in my coffin (the pre-cursor).

You want to know about Heavy Rebel 2005?

Well, I just walked in the door after 2 full days of drinking, 3 full days of rocking, and 7 hours (plus 1 speeding ticket...poor Lil' Jen) of uncomfortable car time.

So keep your drawers on!

My drawers is on far! My drawers is on far!

I promise a jam-packed update about the best Heavy Rebel YET after I catch a much needed nap, an even MORE needed shower, and hopefully, eat a hot dog.

HOT DOGS MAKE ME MAD!
THEY MAKE ME MEAN MAD!
THEY MAKE ME WALL-PUNCHIN' P.O.-ED!