Today will be a test to not act on my desire to get up and scream at people… You know things like “you fucking moron, you look like you’re gonna stroke out! The last thing you need is a large Carmel mocha frape!”. Or. “shut up you fucking cow, no one cares if your husband can’t get it up. It’s probably because you never shut up and your phone is growing out of your ear AND since it’s all about you where did you get that baby? Clearly your nasty old ass hasn’t had a reproductive cell in years!”. Yes, I am at the coffee shop and I forgot my ear phones so I can’t get lost in bliss… No, I have to endure. And well, enduring quietly is not something in my repertoire. Nope, not at all. If I must suffer so must everyone within ranting distance. Sorry, but it’s why you love me and if it’s not, I dare you to tell me to my face.
So, yesterday I fell in love.. With the cutest little gay boy. Yes, yours truly has the makings of being a fag hag.. Oh well, fine, I am. But the last gay boy in my life broke my heart and left me bitter after he left journal open to the exact page stating how he was feeling about everyone and everything in his life. Before y’all get righteous on me you tell me with a straight face that if it were laying there on the sofa you wouldn’t have peaked.. LIARS! Anyway he’s back in his home land of queers and steers and I still love him. I digress, yesterday I splurged for a real haircut as opposed to me hacking away in the bathroom swearing that I can do it cuz I USED to do it for a living.. Yeah, Michael Jacksons dr. Used to be a cardiologist but I’m not gonna wait in line for him. Don’t even get me started on the whole “he saved my life while we we’re in flight” guy. I’m not so sure it didn’t happen after he slipped him some horse traquilizer. So, yesterday I finally took the plunge and had this adorable boy cut my hair, who after I called him out declared that yes, he does love drag but hates the bitter queens.
I convinced him that there’s nothing wrong with the bitter queens, they just want some respect and for people to say it like it is. Bitter queens are what I love most about bartending. A queen will always let you know exactly where you stand and how you look while you’re doing it. This boy though, he has a way to go before bitter engulfs him but he’s very talented so it’ll happen quickly enough. Anyway i was so smitten i gave him my ex husbands phone number for when he moves to west hollywood and needs a job while waiting for his boards. It the least I could do. Besides once again the ex has proven himself to be full of it by sending an email two days after my bday and declaring “I didn’t realize how late in the month it was and I’ve been getting my teeth worked on, so the month got away from me.”. Yeah, right. Is that why a friend of mine called to let me know you were out sucking up with your idea of elite, lit out of your beady little head on my bday? Please, don’t bother if it’s just a continuation of the last ten years.

For the record, I turned 31 this year. Don’t buy it? Fuck you. With love of course. My bday did rock though… Two of my dearest friends sent me the MOST amazing bday gifts. A “liberate the lobsters” scarf, it’s a long story just go with it (I am the founding member of the LLF). Then there was the box packed with goodies. There’s nothing like a box of sumptuous chocolates, candles, soap and a toy that is a mind game to which your evil friend has removed the cheat sheet. HA I finally got it.
The man made me breakfast, took me shopping and to my brothers now defunct magic show. No, he’s not a magician unless you wonder where his teeth went.. Again, piss off it’s with love. The man did fail in one dept. He got me a bloody wild beast! A Bengal. I’m not joking when I say this thing is wretched and will rip your heart out and hand it to you.. Never mind that it’s only 5lbs currently and about 13 weeks old. IT WILL GUT YOU. At first I was so smitten because it looks like sweet emu, wanky eye and all. It even mu legs ya. BUT THAT’S WHERE THE COMPARISONS END. again, it will gut you. To bad it’s so damn cute. Even the king of bitter has more or less accepted it. The pig, she adores it but doesn’t want us to know.. Wallet and the dogs could care less. Pez, well he’s an assassin and may take it out. Being a Beta he may well be able to do it. Go ahead laugh, come on over and have a visit with him, that fish is wicked. In case your wondering, the wild beasts name is marmot, so what, I like animals named after other animals.

Great now the coffee shop smells like dirty diapers! Lady get off your bloody phone! That and the coffee girl just went to shut my shade and I asked her not to, this clearly warrants a look of death! Apparently I am a freak because everyone else was oozing with “oh my, thank you, you’re my hero.. Me, I’m thrilled that it’s grey and wet out and would like to look at it. So, now when I ask for a refill I’ll have to watch her and make sure she doesn’t put rat poison in it. I’m telling you, this is the one starbucks in the WORLD where the help is more bitter than the guest. It’s way worst than L.A. Hard to believe but true.

News Bulletin~ The Packers they gonna bite it!

Now before ya’ll go hating on me for that statement, please note that I am betting on the Packers. Thus insuring that they will lose. How can I be so bitter (really? you have to ask?)
I want them to win, 50.00 is a months worth of coffee.. well, kinda, if I go all low brow and find myself at Mc Donalds which ain’t gonna happen cuz I don’t own a wig or an outfit that would hide who I really am. That and the specialized plate on the car that screams “Look at Me!!!” Can’t even begin to tell you how many cops and girls have been disappointed when the window slowly roles down to reveal a blond with breast, instead of the anticipated tall handsome guy.. Cops because they really wanna bust my balls only to find that I’m not what they’re expecting, girls, well use your imagination. Cops are lots of fun, generally because I open with the line of “Good afternoon Sir, I have hollow point bullets in the vehicle but I’m pretty sure there’s no weapon.” (No, there’s never a weapon.. come on, I’m the girl that the DEA was all set to hire, even passed the background check, yep, even with my brother in the family, then on the last interview with the big man I asked “I can shoot people in the knee caps right?”) This if generally greeted with “Open the door very slowly and continue to let me see your hands.” hmmm, why don’t they think it’s as funny as I do? either way, I get off every time. (get your mind out of the gutter!) The girls, well if you’re scoping my car because of the plate then you’re obviously a man stealing whore and I DO CARRY A WEAPON!

Any way back to the big day~ It is a well known fact amongst all that have had the joy of spending a Superbowl Sunday with me that no matter which team I’m for.. they’re done for. For a lack of better way to say it “I am the black plague of football.” Honestly, I’m used to it by now, all the loss and heart ache of never winning a Superbowl. Can we say Cleveland Browns fan? Yep, not even a title in my life time. Nope, not even the glimmer of hope, yes, I suppose I could become a Ravens fan, if nothing else just because it’s pretty cool that they chose a giant crow ( i know it’s not really a crow but it makes me happy to think it is!) as a mascot.
Says a lot about a team to use a scavenger for it’s mascot. Perhaps, they should have gone with the Baltimore Turkey Vultures. If they had I’d be a die hard fan for sure. How cool would that be, before every home game they brought out the other teams mascot, gutted it so theirs could swoop down, do that amazing “I am lurch walk” over to the now squished Sea Hawk and begin to yank it to shreds? Now that would be cool. Wait, that would be hockey… Gods gift to us Canadians, (as I see it he owed us something, have you seen Canada in January for fuck sake?)

Happy Super Bowl Sunday.. remember just cuz you lose it doesn’t give you the right to kick your dog.. But if your other half is deserving…..

life as a shut in~

O.k. maybe not but it certainly feels that way.. Between my vehicle sitting in the drive like a ray of sunshine that is hell bent on burning a hole into the atmosphere by not moving and the fact that I’m currently living on about 1/5 of what I was making when I was a member of the regular working class or for that matter as a touring engineer has left me spending a lot of time at home. Alone.. as a functioning shut in! It is by choice to some extent, mainly because I KNOW that I will spend $$ if I even walk out the door. Yes, I’m one of those that thrives on instant gratification by fulfilling myself with soft supple leather purses. Yes, I said leather and not that cheap knock off trash. (Don’t judge, we all have our weaknesses, mine happens to be bags that are worth more than I currently make in a month.) Anyway I digress, as one of my dearest friends knows, I can fill an afternoon sharking Target filling my cart with inane things that I Just have to have, Only to have to drag my sorry arse back to Target to return 90% of it because who really needs another 9.99 throw rug across the floor?

The other issue is that since the great exodus of ’08 (every friend I had decided that they would self destruct should they not get out of here right this second!) I’ve made 0 and I mean zero friends. It’s not for lack of trying but lets face it, I’m a real bitch to deal with and it takes a special kind of person to love me for who I am. Yes, that could mean special in a short bus kind of way.. beggars can’t be choosers. This is not to say that I won’t walk of fire for the friends that I have.. because god knows that I will. The precious few that I have scattered across this world hopefully know that should they find themselves trapped in Barney’s helplessly staring at a Ferragamo bag vs Hermes bag, I’ll be there the first flight out to help! (Please, Hermes is way over rated!!! it’s Ferragamo hands down, again, don’t judge I see you sitting in your closet coveting your shoes..) Or should they find themselves stuck in a studio with no producer or engineer I’m there, free gratis.. This however, is unlikely as for years I’ve hidden all my credits under a fake name because I believed people when they said “If you announce you did it, you’re bragging.. hopefully, I’m the last generation of females that feels the need to hide my successes.. because it’s fucking hard to pull them out and say ~hey, this is me so fuck you! BTW it’s all in the works.. the scorching details..) Again, I digress, here I am, sitting here looking out the window wondering what to do.. If I could find a decent band to join, I would.. And lets just say that I may be the next great american photographer… now to just get the gigs to back it up! (Again, judging is for pussies!!!!)

For those of you wondering yes, I still have my man.. and No, I don’t think that it is his responsibility to humour me 24/7. Well, yes, it is his job but you know even that gets old! And the cats, well the damn cats, all they do is run around the house rioting and tearing the place up! Dogs, if something wants to be near you that much for no apparent reason, they must be warped!

I think my wings have fallen below, Jesus won’t you give me another pair~

Well, once again it’s been awhile since I’ve sat my sorry arse down and written a thing.. This is not to say that there have not been things worth writing about. There was the annual cowboys and ho day. No, not as in HO Down, but actual pros. Let me tell you there’s nothing in this world as special as mixing a band in a crowded venue with little or no room for your board with some bimbo not even a foot from you bumping and grinding into some sorry soul’s face (we won’t even get into what said bimbo is doing in the womens room!). This of course resulted in a discussion with the wrangler of said bimbo that went something like this~ “Uhm, Troy (name changed to protect the innocent, yeah, I know, like they care.) Do you think you could get Bambi here to elicit her business about another foot over? (again, name changed because who knows, Bambi’s parents might think she’s a banker!)
Troy~ “Ahhh, come on now, you of all people are not offended by a little t&a are ya? I mean look what you do for a living, you see naked bodies all the time.”
Me~ “Really?? You’re asking me if I’m offended by t&a? Now, Troy, lets think this through. Yes, I see lots of naked bodies because we all know that rock’n'roll brings out the least modest people alive but generally, I don’t have to see them in the pink all up close and personal, and honestly, it’s not the grinding that’s getting to me, IT’S THE STINCH!”
Troy~” Hey, Bambi could you maybe move your action over here about three feet?” Me~ “Thanks buddy.”

This, of course led to the band inquiring why I have a grudge against the poor working girls of sin city. To which I had to explain, I don’t care how they make a living and more power to them I hope they make bank, I just don’t want to have to bring Lysol to my gigs due to flying fluids. Yep, shuts them up every time as soon as they comtemplat that their gear is shared by the same stage as said dancers… Yes, Ricky, there’s a reason your mic smells “special.”

Now, lets not neglect the first 10 hours of the day spent at the yearly cowboy benefit that happily netted over 100k this year. Yes, the cowboys are growing on me, it’s always nice to have people throw their arms around you and say they’ve missed you and that you are the absolute best engineer they have all year. Yes, I too need an ego boost here and there. Actually, I’d like to have a small posse that follows me around everyday and says things like “wow, you sweep the floor amazingly!” Or “For someone who doesn’t like to cook, you’re amazing!” Or that piece of jewelry is going to sell millions! Keep going!” hmmm, maybe I should hire a couple of people to do this.. It’ll be just like when I had all those wonderful assistants to abuse… O.k., I didn’t I abuse them, they willingly pumped my gas and did my grocery shopping. Lets face it, I just have that charming way about me. Anyway, I digress, the cowboy event was as colourful as ever with the scary Rodeo clown dressed in his street clothes, which may be scarier than his work garb, getting lit out of his mind by the main event. Although this year he acted less like a molester and more like a wealthy cowboy. Probably because his wife and kids decided that after last year maybe they should join him. Good call there Mrs. Rodeo Clown. It really is stunning how much a successful cowboy can make on the circuit. Maybe mama was right and I shoulda found a nice cowboy!

Happy New Year my Friends. May 2011 be as colourful as this one. For that matter may it be filled with even more exciting moments!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING don’t be alarmed but THERE’S A SNAKE.. THERE’S A SNAKE UNDER THE SINK.

There are reasons I don’t ‘fix myself up’ very often and well, there are way to many to truly list.. But general laziness tops the list and the fact that I’m really not headed any where that constitutes lots of frills and thrills. This is not to say that I don’t shower daily, (yes, I’m one of those people!) And I can’t imagine not washing my hair everyday.. No, I have no idea why. And yes, I wear makeup.. I NEED MAKEUP. For my own well being, I mean lets face it who wants to look in the mirror and scream because they’ve seen a ghost, only to realize it’s your own reflection looking back at you smirking.

Well, today proved a vital reason as to why I don’t bother with a lot of fixen it means that I have to spend an extra amount of my precious time.. But today, today I decided I’d make myself look pretty for the family and friends that are allowed the joy and warmth my glowing personality. And for what happened next ‘I hate them ALL!’

While upstairs primping my makeup and hair avoiding the vicious stares from 4 sets of eyes letting me know that It’s turkey day and they’ve not had their holiday meals I hear this hissing from under the sink. Not just any kind of hissing but that intermittent heart wrenching hiss that you hear right before you jump 5 feet in the air, do a 180 and run for your life while praying that god is on the same frequency as you, just this one time. All the while realizing that the serpent that has just greeted you is much faster and hungrier than you. This is usually when it hits you, you’re not as fast and nimble as you pride yourself to be. My first thought after all the above is to remove the bitter creatures glaring at me as if I should be slaving over a hot stove for them from the room and lock the door, call 911 and swear at the Boyfriend for not finishing the bathroom to which I am positive the predator has entered my domicile.

After doing all this I find myself returning to the bath room with a broom in my right hand and a loaded ’38 in the other. No, I’m not sure what the broom was for, perhaps vaulting over the damn thing, or holding it up with one hand while I pretend I’m gonna be able to hit it whilst firing with the other? Who knows, logic does not come into play when you’re heart is beating faster than the beat on disco night in a gay bar. So, ever so gently I pry open the bathroom cupboard, (why I didn’t use the broom is beyond me) as the hissing appears to be coming at me a little less frequently and less harsh. Maybe, just maybe it’s getting tired? Finally with a final flourish I throw the cupboard open, close one eye, (again, it’s beyond me.) wave the broom in the air with one hand and aim with the other at…. A can of hairspray. Yeah, really.

Happy Turkey day and may yours be a lot less eventful than mine.

life is a carnival~ to bad the rides are broken

If I look around at everything that is a part of my life, there is nothing that I should not be thankful for. HAHAHAHA
Yeah, no, don’t buy that for a second because well, it’s a big fat lie. The scariest part about life is that whatever you may think is dull and not worth your time, often turns out to be the best parts when you look back. Shouldn’t this be something that scares the hell out of us? Or is it something that like the good things in life should be embraced and we should feel blessed about? hmmm, I don’t know. But as soon as I have some kind, any kind of a clue I’ll be sure to let you know.

For the first time in my life I’m looking at a situation that is going to involve an attorney and well, probably suing. It makes me feel anxious and my stomach sink. It has never seemed like an answer to me and the fact that I have zero patience and not much more of an attention span it really seems odd for me to consider, but alas, it is what is meant to be.

The desert is starting to get the winter chill that takes it from the dormant state known as Summer to the even more lifeless state known as winter. This is not to say that there are not seasons here, there are. There are a few special weeks every spring and fall that bring everything to attention, looking for the warmth of the sun and stretching into brilliance that words can not be put to words. In the mean time it’s a desolate, desperate place that allows you to realize how hell got it’s description and name. It takes all that you have and leaves you withering in the burnt dust, lusting for that few minutes of beauty that happen every six months, when you feel like it’s worth every second. And it is. Sometimes I just forget it.

It’s o.k. to catch on a little late in the game as long as you place in the finish line!

O.k… I’ll admit it, I’ve been watching a bit of morning t.v. I’d really like to say it is beneath me, but alas it’s not. Anyway, to the point..Smoky Robinson is on a show and people are falling all over themselves and talking about the legend and how exciting it is.. This is where I wonder; am I just so busy working gigs that it doesn’t sink in until much later, often well after the fact that I am working with legends? That must be it. Don’t get me wrong, I am well aware that there are people in this world that would die to do what I do. To be with the legends, talking, listening, making them accessible to the masses that will be pushing through the door. For whatever reason it never seems to sink in at the moment and I’ve never really made a list of the who, what and wheres.. Mainly because true to my “listen to all your friends and family, because they always mean well.” Mentality, that was instilled into me from a very young age, I listened to people when they said “No, you didn’t have lunch with them..” “The papers say he’s dating her, so why would you say he’s seeing you, how could you even know him?” “Stop bragging! no one wants to hear about how they refused to clean up after themselves on the bus!” So, rather than make list and write stories I sucked it in and forgot a lot… Now, the goal is to try to remember a lot, not let it all fade away. Being a little bit of a late bloomer, it’s taken me a few years to realize that it’s not bragging and that maybe I should have saved some of the mementos… and written the stories. That anyone who doesn’t want to hear it can go fuck themselves and that when people pipe in with “oh I met that person on the street once, twenty years ago, and they didn’t do that..” it means nothing accept they are trying to fit in… That the blank stares of disbelief are just that, blank stares of disbelief. Middle America has zero concept of doing what or being where you’ve been so how can it be true? Case in point, some folks I used to know in K.C. that were convinced it could NEVER be true.. Happily they’re all gone and I gained one really great friend out of the deal. (btw, I’m coming to see you before winter is over! I want to run in the snow~) Even, stranger my ex, not realizing whom I worked with or what I really did until I was gone.. And he started having people ask where I was and when I’d be back.. He was blown away.. O.k. that might have been worth some of the strife!