31 May 2003---2:02p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Demented Are Go "Kicked Out of Hell"

Ah, sweet and velvetty hangover. Cradle me in your dizzy and woozy arms and comfort me with head pain and cotton mouth. I've got to say, it's worth the run down this time around. I had such a rad (and confusing) time last night with my dude Brodie that a luscious hangover is a small price to pay for that kind of rock-n-roll lifestyle. After everyone else had punked out, Brodie and I decided to see if we could roll on through until morning which we did in high fashion...and to think that he almost didn't come. After drinks, healthy discussion, and a medley of mopey Smiths' songs, we headed on an adventure with my dear, sweet, lovely, ex-future-husband, Jesse Parker. I was going to be Mrs. Martini Parker one day and I would wear different colored wigs and a bikini while Jesse and I drank umbrella drink and lavishly spent my husband's money. It was going to be a beautiful existence. But time has passed and instead we lived the college kid's dream: rockabilly, PBR, and Mary-Jane (the middle of which has once again befouled by friendship and the latter of which I am not proud of but I did get the giggles).

Ah, my giggles subsided when I returned home at 3:15am (it's been a long time since I was such an eager beaver party gal) after singing "Holy Hack Jack" over and over as loud as I could. There was a rumble upstairs at Casa Puss-n-Pirate and the war is still waging on this morning along with the hangover that is marching across my face. I'm confused to say the least. Confused and fucked. Confused and fucked and sad. So to remedy this, I decided to spend my Saturday a la the Knife with good food, movies, and my pajamas, along with a box of tissues because I burst into tears every 5 minutes. I need Queen B therapy. The shower helped. Coming home from the video store and seeing that Pirate left me flowers helped to...helped to confuse me furthur.

I already tagged 2 bathrooms in Kent with "Byrne Rocks, Banned in D.C." and a skull-n-crossbones. I miss her and her rockin'. I need more girlfriends so I don't have to go to the bathroom at the bar alone.

A little birdie told me that Paul Cox has removed yours truly from his blog links and boy-oh-boy does that sting hardcore. Paul Cox was once going to be one of my future husbands. He matched a lot of must haves from my list. He must have fallen out of love with me. I have to listen to Air Supply and pine.

29 May 2003---7:27p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Psychobilly Freakout Comp.

Hypothetical situation: say there's someone you don't much care for and a letter came addressed to them in YOUR mailbox. So you open the letter because hey, who the HELL cares? And when you open it, it's a subpoena to appear in court on a specific date. Now, do you pretend to be a nice person and call this hated individual and alert them? I realize that not showing up after a subpoena is delivered is a big deal. But you also have the option to pretty much fuck them up the rear.

I'm choosing option number 2.

29 May 2003---1:05p
MUSIC TO BLOG TO: Lazy Cowgirls "A Little Sex and Death"

You may disagree but I'm pretty sure the song "Because" by the Dave Clark Five isn't really about doing things because you really and truly love somebody and the ways you show affection are effortless. Nope. I'm pretty sure it's about cocaine. Try and challenge me. You'll lose, simple as that. In honor of my great discovery and encoding, here is a special Top 5 list:

Top 5 Good Songs About Drugs
1. Perfect Day Lou Reed
2. Junkie Dead Milkmen
3. Mr.Brownstone Guns-n-Roses
4. Caught By the Fuzz Supergrass
5. Because The Dave Clark Five

And once again, I've gotta say that I dig The Knife. He's diggable. I don't feel like I've done nerely enough to thank him for all the hard work he's done over the past few weeks to restore my sanity. My ill fated sanity went out the door with the ill stained carpet. You can buy somebody a bottle of bourbon, smokes, and fuel but it's not enough when they've selflessly lent a hand without a single complaint. Switchblade would call this "ass kissing" but I call it distributing the rock where the rocker deserves it. Drinks tomorrow at the Loft and Zephyr to celebrate my new found sanity, y'all. I'm going to have 2 fingers of bourbon so I can be like the Knife when I grow up.

I'm trying to make a compliation of burning hot passionate (but not retardedly romantic) songs that would be perfect for a sexual encounter that involves lost of sweat and pulling on the sheets in ecstasy...not for an encounter that involves a lot of I love you and slow movements and not for one involving Oh GOD, baby, FUCK ME moments. The inbetween stuff...not love making, not effing, get it? If you have an suggestions, please e-mail me. I'm going to mae this hot comp, listen to it with Switchblade, and then give it to Brodie. And don't even suggest it, Fuck Sex by the Pink Lincolns does not apply.

27 May 2003---12:43p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: -1 day.

To be throughly non-creative and steal some thoughts from the Knife, I've got Cramps...and I like it.It's hard to believe it's over but last night's show had all the elements of a an all around great way to spend a holiday and should become the checklist for all musical events:

1. We got there during the dud first band, the Bassholes, and "during" is always the best time to enter when the first band is concerned, especially if they're duds. We got to adjust to the crowded surroundings (and they certainly WERE crowded...I had sweat all over my neck. ULTRA attractive), do a little meet and greet coupled with shmoozing of people you already know, load up on fuel.

2. Then the Cramps played which was a THRILL to say the least BUT I will say, and I believe Brodie will back me up on this, that they're getting to the end of their rock-n-roll lifestyle span. I had read plenty of reviews of shows and the new album that basically said the same things...they're getting too old to rock. I'm glad I saw them now before Lux has to start asking for an IV half way through the show. I thought they would have oodles of stage presence. They don't. None, really, unless you count an old geezer who looks like Frankenstein making dopey faces and crawling around in vinyl and high heels. They played around 12 songs which may sound minimal but you know how they can stretch things out and eventhough they didn't play "Rock On the Moon" or "Tear It Up", they did do their two best covers of "Psychotic Reaction" and "Surfin' Bird". That was worth the whole ordeal. Pirate and I both agreed that the best way to label their performance was "fun". We had a lot of fun dancing and singing and hanging out with the people we dig (and for future reference, remind me NOT to hang out with PBR because it's not so nice to me. Not nice at all).

3. The night ended with what I have decided is the perfect conclusion. Mr.Quintron and Miss Pussycat did a puppet show and then played some goofy songs with a keyboard, THE drum buddy, and a really loud set of tamborine-esque maracas. It was so great so be out of the crowd as most people went home and left a more intimate atmosphere in the tavern. It was a way to finish off the last of the beer, listen to some ridiculous music and basically wind down. No one wants to go home right after their heads been blown away. A wind down should become mandatory. There was more dancing and socializing and GOD DAMN, there were PUPPETS eating SNOWBALLS to boot. I may not like girls very much, but Miss Pussycat has an adorable voice. Rock-n-rolling around. I bid farewell to Brodie, who is officially back to being the OLD Brodie that I so dearly missed, came home with a drunk Pirate and slept well. Ex one of my list of things to do.

Then there's today...ick. I had to recruit my most hadsome, intelligent, fabulous, glamerous pal, the Knife, once again to help me finish the preparations for tomorrow's carpet. Does it mean I'm getting all old and domestic when I get excited over CARPET? I'm thinking that I'm going to invite everyone over on Saturday for cocktails in my newly refurbished dwellings. Not a "party" because that's a big no-no so we'll call it a...um...metting? Yes, a meeting with music and drinks. Saturday. Mark it down, y'all.

26 May 2003---10:18a
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS:TONIGHT, mothertruckers.

Holy cow, I could just release bladder all over the damn place and I probably will on the dance floor. Cramps, man. One of the top 3 things I have to do to achieve rocker zen in my lifetime can be exed off tonight (and Johnny Cash better hold out for a few more months until I get the opportunity to "bump into him"). I was tossing and turning all night because my adrenaline shot sky high just thinking about it. But on the flip side of every kick ass thing is an ass kicking thing: I could run into many of my enemies at this event. I'm crossing my fingers that I don't have to rumble considering the fact that I have a designated driver and if I started to throw punches, I'd probably go to jail. TEAR IT UP.

What an INSANE weekend. We said our goodbyes to Queen B on Friday and I'll tell you what, I think I had one too many goodbye cocktails, myself. But not as many as Johnny "I'm going to piss in this beer glass, piss on myself, fall asleep and wake up with a boner" Switchblade. He takes the cake, yo. I didn't think it that state that I was going to be able to help Queen B with the move but I took my hangover in stride and et Motorhead guide me on. Either way, I felt worse for her than I did for myself and that rarely happens. Her living situation ROTS...so hardcore that I drove my hungover self home just to be surrounded by cats and shit because it felt better. Good luck, B. Who will care for me when I'm ill...or just plain lazy?

GOD, Cramps...TONIGHT. I'm just going to leave on that note because nothing's going to be able to express how I feel about all of this. I'm having an Elvis moment.

23 May 2003---10:32a
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 3 days.

I am worried about my pal Eerie who seems to have taken a slight vacation down in the dumps. It's really an awful feeling to have regrets about the past or feel stuck in regards to your future. I know it. Everyone knows it. We've all been there. But in regards to Eerie's woes, I can say this: I don't think it really matters if you have a gaggle of friends because chances are you don't get to spend enough quality time with all of them and most of them aren't TRUE friends anyway. All you really need in life is ONE good friend and she's got more than one so...BUCK UP LITTLE CAMPER, count your blessings, and enjoy your life before you die. None of this shot gun talk, though I DO look mighty spiffy in funeral attire. I'd wear the big hat and everything. Davey Havok could be my date. Do you bring dates to funerals? Come out tonight. I'll but you a fancy drink and you'll see just how many people DON'T care about your past or you future but care about you. I'm the president of your fan club, after all.

According to the Zombies: What You Should Know website, As any expert on the zombie menace will tell you, zombies don't kill people. People kill people. Zombies just help. Surviving a zombie invasion is 90% common sense and rational understanding of your situation. I've decided to enlighten you with a daily tip about Zombies just in case:

TIP: 1) Most zombies are not spry. The fact is, they just aren't well wired anymore. If accosted, you can walk around it; it won't catch up. For fun, run around one in circles and make it dizzy - it's more fun than cow tipping. If one happens to get close, give it a good shove and watch it topple like your drunken Uncle Phil on Christmas Eve.

Exceptions may include:
The zombies that Michael Jackson danced with in his "Thriller" and "Ghosts" videos. Do not panic - these were only actors, with appliances designed to make the dancers look even more disfigured and bizarre than Jackson himself.

If you encounter disco-dancing zombies, enjoy the floorshow from a safe distance. Feel free to applaud; leave at any time. If you see Michael Jackson himself, know he will not give you money for looking at him. Run away.

22 May 2003---9:10p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 4 days.

Holy-fucking-dogs-that-hump-legs, would you look at this here beauty? It is so gawsh dern perty that I think I just might strip down to my birthday suit, throw on my cowgirl hat and go buck wild all over my acres. A healthy hillbilly YEEEEEEEEEEHAW goes out on over to the Loomer plantation for the hard work that it took to make this here country cowpoke want to roll in the hay stacks once again. You are a blog hero, Mr. Loomer, and we salute you just like gals from the farm should. YIPPY KI YI YEAH, MOTHERFUCKER.

Fiesta at Casa Loft y Zephyr manana to say Adios, mamacita to Senorita Becky. This is a knock down drag out event so bring your irom stomachs and your shagging shoes. No one goes home until there's blood on the streets and I hear "Authority Song" by Johnny Cougar. And this here entry is hot-diggity-done. Is it comforting to know that Switchblade was waxing his pointing stick as I typed?

Double up or quit. Double stake or split.

21 May 2003---6:27p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 5 days.

Meghan's blog is so frickin' sexy that my head wants to fall off in celebration of it's sexiness. I've never wanted toast more than I do right now. Hot, hot toast. Hopefully my blog will get a sexy make-over soon. I can barely contain the feeling in my lower extremities just thinking about it.

People who kill themselves in front of other people must be very lonely. And while on the subject, they also suck.

Let's talk about throwing up, shall we? It's a conversation that is not brought up frequently enough I say. I don't like to watch people throw up (but who does?) but I think with me, it's more of an auditory thing. The heaving, the gagging, the SPLASH of your lunch hitting the pavement or if you're lucky, the water in the toilet that always has the most peculier smell while your head is in the bowl. I actually don't mind throwing up in general. Sometimes it just has to happen and you usally feel better when it's done. HOWEVER, puking inside, outside, or on someone's car, OR in front of others really, REALLY rots hardcore. I haven't thrown up from drinking OR in front of people in quite some time and I thank the LORD. God bless you, Meghan. I hope you feel tip-top in no time.

The season finale of Gilmore Girls was so damn sexy...SEXY SEXY SEXY...that I almost needed to masturbate over it. I taped it because I'm pretty sure that Brodie the Traitor probably paid no attention to the seriousness of yesterday's events. However, I barely know him anymore so I'm not going to let him watch it. I, however, am going to watch it again right now because I don't feel well. Screw you, Brodie. Where do your loyalties lay?

20 May 2003---12:00p

It's noon and it's time for the best news EVER
Yes boys and ghouls, it's time for some genital stimulating news guaranteed to make you strip off your clothes and and make musical instruments out of your private parts. Are you ready? Do you have a roll of toilet paper lined up JUST IN CASE? Alright then. You seem prepared. I just learned that...THE MANTIS WILL BE REOPENING. Oh my GOD, I think I almost just had an orgasm typing that. If this news doesn't bring back the old Brodie, than I don't know what will and I'll have to move to the Allegheny Valley and change my name to Tallulah Bankhead, Jr. We were never so "in our element" as we were there In fact, I think every one of us has thrown up there at one time in our Mantis career. So, be happy and celebrate, folks for the rocking is due to commence.

In other news, I have 1/2 gallons of milk in my fridge that range in experation dates from March 29th to May 18th.

20 May 2003---10:16a
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 6 days.

The weirdest thing happened in school yesterday. Actually, it wasn't so weird as it was pretty rad. There is a deaf man in my class who requires 2 interpreters and therefore cannot take notes. In comes me, getting paid to take notes for him which basically has me getting paid (because the university provides the service) for something I'd have to do anyway. What do I say to this? Rock.

Brodie sent me a generic e-mail yesterday. I sent an equally as generic one back. At least I know he's not dead, I guess.

I don't remember how to link things but for a good time, check out http://eeriekitty.pitas.com

19 May 2003---2:58p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 7 days.

I can't believe that one week from today, I will seeing the Cramps, live. I have a gut feeling it's not going to be the best show in the world since their new album isn't such hot stuff in comparison. HOWEVER, I am going to drink myself into a virtual COMA which always enhances a shows natural rockingness. YEE-to-the-mothertruckin'-HAW, y'all.

My Cinema Sex Censors workshop starts today. I hope I get to see some pornography.

Top 10 Most Hated Band List (subject to change)
1. Bikini Kill
2. Le Tigre
3. Candy Snatchers
4. Electric Frankenstein
5. Dead Boys
6. Sleater-Kinney
7. Subhumans
8. Fear
9. New York Dolls
10. NOFX

18 May 2003---9:06p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 8 days.

All in all, the clock is slow. Six colored pictures all in a row of a Marigold.

I miss Byrne. It sounds so fucking ridiculous considering we only just left her 7 hours ago but it's true, I miss her, and it really sucks that she's gone. It sucks for ME. Working at the National Arboretum is certainly good for HER and I wish her luck but I hope that after her year internship is up, she'll come back. She quickly became one of my favorite drinking pals. It's hard for me to believe that there was a point when I wasn't fond of her and now I'm sitting here...really, really sad. I miss my friend. I'm going to cry now. Actually, I'm going to listen to "Marigold" by Nirvana until I'm all cried out.

Thursday night we had the big "Bye Bye to Byrne" outting which was really effing rad with the exception of one person causeing aother person to have to leave (actually, I guess that happened in two situations, but one bugged me more than the other). We had a rowdy table going at the Loft followed by a rowdy table going at the Zephyr and somewhere in there I filled out a job application. There was so much beer and so many cigarettes and Byrne was working the room like she was a high class socialite. I wish I would have paid more attention because as I previously mentioned, she's gone now. Sigh. Either way, I had one of the best times I've had in MONTHS and none of the boys I usually drink with were there to witness it. Switch had to work the next morning, Knife had some sudden urge to go home, and Brodie? I don't even fucking know him anymore. Pirate passed on Motorhead to join the festivities. I like when he's around. Have I mentioned that I don't like that Byrne ISN'T around? Blech.

Friday I got tattooed all morning and made mix CDs all night. That's all there is to it. Somewhere around 12:0a, I got to go to bed only to wake up again at 4:00a. The pay off was that I got to download "Fuck Sex" by the Pink Lincolns. When it played on the way home from DC, both Switch and Knife practically jumped out of the car.

Speaking of DC, every second was worth it considering we were paid with steak as well as IHOP. The drive down was swell as well as the drive back. The Byrne family rocks my socks off all around. It was even fun carrying boxes out of the U-Haul and folding all of Byrne's underwear. And the family enjoys the alcohol as much as we do so we had a post-dinner "we're so sophisticated, let's have fancy-shmancy drinks at the bar" episode. I had a vodka and cranberry and that finally did me in. It was me and my sleeping bag...and Switch's resonating snore... for the rest of the night. I was eager to go home today though. I missed my Pirate, who wasn't even here when I got back but it doesn't matter because I'm all mopey. I keep wondering what Byrne is doing and thinking that I'd be balling if I were her. Time to change the subject before I inject the flesh eating virus into my heart.

I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've decided that people have babies for 2 reasons: 1. to fill some sort of gap in their life where they want someone to love them and belong to them and to be able to say they're a parent or 2. they have excess love to give and need to pawn it off before the explode. I have someone to give excess love to (check) and the only gaps I need filled can NOT be filled by a baby (check). I think the only people who rightfully deserve to be parents and do it for all the right reasons are people who adopt because they go for a hell of a struggle to get a child and then love a total stranger unconditionally, it's not a matter of a broken condom of the need for validation. So...I'm probably not going to have children so I'm probably going to have to get a divorce. My life will officially fall apart.

If I ever made a CD of songs to have passionate but burning hot sex to, "Marigold" would be the only song on it...so far.

15 May 2003---6:28p

I'm having an issue with my Top 5 Hated Band List because I really shouldn't have removed the Dead Boys AND I forgot about Fear. I may have to make it a top 10.

15 May 2003---5:41p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 11 days.

My blog still looks like garbage. I have faith that this phase will end soon with a change of colors and the addition of a too-sexy-for-young-eyes picture. Meg-Dog says the picture has too much boobie for her. Can you ever have TOO MUCH boobie??

I think I can finally make a habit of reading the newspaper because they have brought the "news" down to my level. My dude Lisa Marie of Rock-n-Roll Purgatory fame is officially a trash journalism princess due to today's issue. HOT DOG, isn't there something going on in the middle east we could worry about rather than fret over some, in my opinion, rather TASTEFUL pictures of Lisa? I think they're foxy and wish I had foxy pictures of myself...I'm sure most of my other dudes would agree that they're classy in a 40's and 50's pin-up girl way. Some people have no sense of humor, or art for that matter. And people take things too seriously overall. Like if I said my favorite past time is sticking skewers covered in olives deep into my breast implants while singing the first 5 songs off "The Definitive Air Supply" collection, it must be true. It's not true (not ENTIRELY) but it's funny. I just think it's super lame that people lost or were force to quit their jobs over one of the best local 'zines to come out in the past 10 years. And I also think it's lame that they said she's refered to as "Lisa Marie". She's not refered to...THAT'S HER NAME. Oh MAN, that's really burning my toast. She didn't comment on the whole shabang but if she did, I think her comment should have been, "Suck my ass REAL GOOD MOTHERFUCKERS". She's far too mature for that though. Anyway, tonight at Happy Hour, I will be drinking a pitcher in "Lisa Marie"'s honor. YEEEEEHAW for the NEWS.

Motorhead RULES but I don't want to lose my hearing. If you rock out to Motorhead, you rock out in my book. ROCK ON, ROCKERS.

A guy knocked on my door trying to sell me steak and sea food and when I told him I was a picky eater (which sounded better than I can't afford your fucking steak) he wanted a listing of my daily eating habits. THEN when a neighbor, an older neighbor with a more expensive car, stepped out, the steak dude left me STANDING THERE. Being a jerk-off and belittling me is not the way to get me to buy your meat, man.

Yeah, so, I put the badass blonde steaks in my hair but I don't look anything like Rogue from the X-Men which was my intention. If anything, I look like Gerri Halliwell.

14 May 2003---9:49a
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 12 days.

I know it's been awhile but dry your eyes kiddies, for your mama has returned. I couldn't even think of spending time with the god awful ugly sorry ass excuse for a blog until I had a glimmer of hope that the aesthetic issues could be solved...and the will. Hopefully by my pal Mr.Loomer. The transformation will be post-Meg Dog's reconstruction, of course, because it is far more important and will be far more beautiful, and this makes me happy. Beautiful new blogs for everyone. And the rambling will stop.......now.

To backtrack, the weekend was nutso. FRIDAY: Went to the Perfect Guy CD release and decided HEY, I don't like guys who point when they sing a la New Bomb Turks. Obnoxious. I also don't like rain and I don't like when Switchblade tries to drive AND rock out because we magically end up OFF of the highway in electrical mayhem. I thought I'd have to sleep at Switch's but after a change of clothes and a lecture on the vinyl color of every record that was new to his collection, I managed to find my way home, only to discover that my Pirate had been beat up by some thugs. People rot.

SATURDAY: I had to go to brunch with my family and within five seconds I was already loathing my sister. Blech. I felt like I was in a coma the whole time...AFTER I felt like my insides were on fire because my Mom INSISTED that I shouldn't get hjer anything because I spent a lot for her birthday but when both of my sister's got her cool things...well, I felt like dirt. I brought my dirty self home and took a cue that maybe a coma would be best for me. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. By the time I woke up, it was clear that between my rainy evening, my funky breakfest, and Pirate's rumble...OH, and an overdraft charge at the bank...I couldn't fathom going to Los Straitjackets, which made me feel like dirtier dirt because I didn't get to celebrate Byrne's graduation. So lame. Instead, I drank fruity drinks and watched Tessa throw up after a lengthy conversation about porn. My ear hurt most of the time.

SUNDAY: Sunday was lame. I was going to go hang with my Mom but neither of us really wanted to do that. She wanted to watch TV and I wanted to poke my ear drum out. I spent the day letting Becky service me because that's what I like to do when I'm sick. I watched Survivor, touched up a little paint and was out cold BEFORE Adult Swim. Ear still hurts.

MONDAY and TUESDAY: Monday I took Tessa downtown because just like me, she doesn't like to drive there alone. She got a new job application. ROCK. I went to the dentist which I always enjoy and they bastards chipped a little of my tooth while they were cleaning it. Luckily, it's time for the bond to be replaced so...but DAMN, that ruined my day. I ate more than I should have with Tessa and Keen and then headed to Knife's for hot gossip and cold ice-cream followed by a conversation about the word "Cuckold". It was beautiful. Yesterday was comprised of cleaning, drinking, Snow Cones, and getting rid of more of my EXs belongings. YEEHAW.

So that sums it all up. It may be boring but I wanted to get back on track. This weekend, I get to go to DC with some of my pals, but one of us, Byrne, won't be returning. It's sad really. Ans today some strangers from Harrisburg, PA, are coming to pick up the fishtank I sold on eBay which will officially banish the EX from this house, much like in Poltergeist.

I expect plenty of spelling errors in this entry. Bite me.

8 May 2003---6:09p

I'm fiddling around with my blog so just ignore it's state of disfunction for awhile. It'll be back and better in no time. That pink shit was spooking me out.

8 May 2003---2:01p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 18 days.

Whoever stumbled upon my blog with notion that Mo Rocca is sexy, you're right. He's a fox.

You know who else is a fox? Wolverine. That dude has one firey hot hair do.

Congratulations to Byrne on taking her very last final EVER tomorrow morning at 7:45a. Feel free to come over and drink a pitcher of Margaritas when it's over. I'll be doing laundry but it's no big thing. Everyone should have access to such a hot blender.

And in other news, I may actually be making the most retarded mistake of my life by PASSING UP Heavy Rebel Weekender so that I don't miss Rib Day and fireworks for the second year in a row (DAMN YOU BLADDER INFECTION). Due to this choice (I'd like to call it a "Sophie's Choice" since there really are no winners), I'm expecting Brodie and the Knife to entertain me fully the whole weekend. I'm talking big guns, boys.

I am going to temporarily remove the Dead Boys off my Top 5 Hated Band List so it is now as follows:
1. Bikini Kill
2. Candy Snatchers
3. Electric Frankenstein
4. Subhumans
5. New York Dolls

Music, Madness and Mayhem Hosted by The Ghoul!
Beachland Ballroom...A Night of Ghoul Power!
Saturday, June 28th at 9pm for 10.00
Music by: The Paybacks, Satan's Satellites, Uncle Scratch's Gospel Revival, Cult of the Psychic Fetus.

6 May 2003---7:11p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 20 days.

I don't know if it's paint fumes or the throbbing that wrecked my ear all night but all of a sudden, I feel like shit. I haven't decided if I feel like regular shit or dog shit but it's between those 2 for sure. I've been unbelieveably light headed for the past 20 minutes so I ate the world's biggest bowl of Fruity Pebbles (which always seem to slice up my mouth) trying to balance myself out. I fear that I'm getting sick. I can't let this happen.

Due to the fact that a while ago Brodie brought up that in honor of his big 2-5 this June, he would be having a celebratory bash at his pad...I may not have the 4th Annual Birthday Party Round-Up. Now, this does not mean that I'm shipping the duties on to Brodie to handle this shin-dig because let's face it, I am the party master. But in light of the recent parties here ending in disturbances calls to the trusty Kent Police, I figured it would be in the best interest not to have another bash quite so soon. So that is my decision as of right now and I really look forward to going to a party at someone elses digs for a change.

I use to really hate that on "Beverly Hills 90210" they would refer to Brandon as "Brando". I really didn't dig that.

And now I shall issue a concern: I'm trying to get people on board to go to the Heavy Rebel Weekender in Winston Salem, North Carolina. So far I've got Pirate and Switchblade on board for a weekend of like 60 rockabilly bands, vendors, drinking, etc. I was REALLY hoping to get Brodie and the Knie on board as well but then I realized...will Rib Day be a deterrent in my plans? With they be hogs instead of rockers and choose meat over...rocking? Eitehr way, when I took a gander at the dates, I was upset that I will probably not have the joy of their presence. Wah. And wah.

Cinco de Mayo 2003---6:16p
COUNT DOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 21 days.

Just wanted to bring up that my cousin's CD release is this Friday in the Beachland Tavern at 10:30p. I'm going because I've only seen him perform once (a year and a half ago) and want to be supportive of family not to mention go out and drink beer. I'll be pretty lonely all by myself so if anyone wants to tag along, I'd appreciate it but I'm not expecting anyone to do backflips over it. Here's the write-up from the Beachland newsletter):

Fri. May 9 The Perfect Guy (CD Release Party), 84 Nash, (with CK1 Dance Party afterward!!) Lovers of the true Cleveland sound and those with an ear for the hippest sounds around, hear ye this: the Perfect Guy’s debut CD, fossil fuel folk hymnal, drops tonight! If you love to plumb the lush n’ layered guitar wellspring dug by the likes of Radiohead, the dark romanticism of the Cure, the adrenalized politics of Billy Bragg, and the popsmithery of the Kinks, people, you need look no further than The Perfect Guy. If you’re not familiar with Dave P. and his cohorts, let’s refresh your memory. It seems only yesterday that Dave lifted guitar and pen to set down his thoughts on the decline of the American dream and the dangers of eroticism gone awry. Soon thereafter he assembled a variety of lineups to give his tender but tempestuous songs some rock n’ roll heft. Several personnel changes were made, a trip to the studio was scheduled, and lo and behold, the fossil fuel folk hymnal disc came to fruition. Many a show has passed between that time and the current, and we’re pleased to say that we’re dealing with a stone-solid rhythm section, infinite cascades of echotastic guitar, and a frontman with bona fide star power. Someone cut these guys a record deal already! Geez. Opening are Columbus’ 84 Nash, who combine classic rock brawn with pop pilfering a la Guided By Voices in their lo-fi Dayton days. If that’s not enough, CK 1 will man the wheels of steel and throw down some wax like back in the heyday of Speak In Tongues (R.I.P.), which means full-on debauchery. 10:30 PM, $6, tavern.

And while that's out of the way, all of my love (and because I'm such a cold person with a black, black heart there's a lot of pent up love to give) goes out to Switchblade, Brodie Davis, Jr., and the Knife. You guys kicked ass yesterday helping with with home improvement and I promise that you can each do the "hibbidy dibbidy" to a chick on my new carpet. ROCK.

4 May 2003---1:02p
COUNTDOWN TO THE CRAMPS: 22 days.

Weekend was EXHAUSTING. So exhaisting, in fact, that I don't even have the strength to talk about. All I can say is there was both ROCKING and ROLLING and soon all of my friends will be covered in paint. Take that to mean what you will.

I hate my blog layout. I hate having all the links on the left side. I hate that it is no longer interesting to look at. I hate that there is not a place on my blog where I can list all the things I've hated during the week. Someone PLEASE have mercy on my blog.

They said I shouldn't be a surgeon. They poo-pooed my electric frankfurter. They said I should fly with just one eye. I'm Bender, please insert gerter.

2 May 2003---1:58p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Les Sexareenos "14 Frenzied Shakers"

Today is day 2 of "no chocolate, no pepsi, no fast food".

I guess it's a good thing that I married Pirate instead of Paul Cox because the whole Detroit Cobras thing would have been grounds for a divorce. Speaking of marriage and divorce, remember way back when when I made a list of qualities a man must have to marry me? I think that whole thing got thrown out the window.

Got bless Mary Byrne who just went to ditch my guinea pig at a pet store with some lame excuse about a roomie who skipped town and left the pig behind. So farewell Elvis. I never liked you and all you did was whine and stink the joint up. Hopefully some poor sucker will see your charms...if the exist, which I venture to guess they don't.

I haven't been to a show in months so tonight, the dancing shoes come out my friends. However, they are the same dancing shoes that took leave of my feet all by themselves at Danzig. I would just watch yourself if you're in their line of fire.

1 May 2003---1:20p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Detoit Cobras "Mink Rat or Rabbit"

HAPPY MAY Y'ALL. On that happy note, I will NOT be going to the Detroit Cobras because, well, they suck ass...the dirtiest ass in all of Detroit. Switch says that this chick (and I really did question if this person had a vagina or a penis) has a voice the projects "pure sex" and I say her voice project pure "poo". On a high note, not going will save me some cash since I have 5-6 shows on my May agenda, including tomorrows Big B Jamboree at the Beachland. Bottom line: Detroit Cobras are "fucky".

My new obsession: Panera. I went yesterday for the first time and had baked potato soup in a bread bowl with the best lemonade in the world. I like being taken to lunch. Meg-Dog will agree with me there. I even got a HUGE cinnomin roll for today's breakfest and when I went to prepare it, THERE WAS A BIT OUT OF IT. I suspect that if I matched this bite to Pirate's choppers, I would find the culprit. Hmph. Get your own bakery.

Switch called me on his lunch break and when the conversation ended, he informed me that he was off to "take a dump" before his work partner came back. Now my day is complete.

As you all know, I sold my Philly Cramps tickets on eBay since they added the Memorial Day show at the Beachland (which I already paid for because I don't want to have another Beachland Breeders incident where everyone goes but me). Well, I mailed the tickets out the same day I recieved payment as I promised I would and the dude left me some positive feedback: These folk are CRAMP STYLE! I give 'm four claws and an Atomic tease! I liked that.

Pirate bought the special edition "Battle Royale" on DVD. Everyone can just form a single line to borrow it.

Feel fortunate I archived for you, after the nasty things you said about the Cobras...you big meanie. -paul