Posts filed under ‘Blah Blah Blah’

My Quarterly Blog Post

Andy the boyfriend and his nephew Raimund

Sorry for my long absence. Apologies to all five of you. Mostly I’ve been too busy, tired, depressed or agitated to post, and my new rule for Bees is that I only rant about my personal life entertainingly. If it’s not funny to anyone, I’m not putting it here. With that said, I’m tempted to take down a bunch of entries from this blog, which are too personal and just poorly written. Some things just don’t belong on the internet and I’ve been very anti-internet lately.
Anyway, I’ll share the good news instead. Andy the Boyfriend is going to be shacking up with me and Ant here at the Two Street Rock Critic House. His love of pizza and bad cable TV and sympathy for the Shamrock Pub will make him the perfect resident here. And rock critics (even underacheiving ones like me and Ant) need civilians to hang with; you can always tell which writers are only talking to other writers. Andy’s also bringing his dog, a Beagle Lab named Chelsea, which will eliminate the need for me to ever sweep the kitchen floor ever again.
Yes, I’m gonna finally clean up the third floor and hang up all my clothes and deal with my office crap so the poor boy has a place to put his stuff. It’s really happening!
Otherwise, my life moves between lazy and busy. The Dumpsta Players did three shows in three months: a best-of, a benefit, and Prom Trash. We raised over $3,000 for our May 6 benefit for The Bryson Institute of The Attic Youth Center for L/G/B/T/Q Youth and SMART, Inc: sisterhood mobilized for Aids/HIV Research & Treatment. It’s nice to know that being a freak can help others in a real way.

For Prom Trash, Cathy and I entered as Punk Rock Siamese Twins. We put a trash bag over ourselves, Cathy wore a red wig that looks like my hair, and we wore Nancy Spungen-style make-up and shouted obscenities and spit up Pabt’s and pistachio pudding at everyone. We came in second to Slavid’s reigning queen, Amanda Playwythe, who showed up with her elderly husband (brilliantly played by her boyfriend), Anna Nicole-style.

Speaking of Nancy Spungen, I finally read And I Don’t Want To Live This Life, her mother’s story about Nancy’s short troubled life and notorious death. I believe that Nancy was “nauseating,” troubled, and brilliant; she’s a human being after all. It was such a heartbreaking read, since she never got the mental health care she needed. I wonder what she would be like today if there were more options available to her. I wish she’d been in a band instead of a groupie, at least that would have been place to direct her fury. Would she be like Courtney Love, alternately falling down and getting back up again into her 40s? I can’t imagine being a member of the Spungen family. After reading the book, I hoped that her sister Suzy went on to be a famous artist. She was the one I identified with the most: loving and hating and revering and reviling someone all at the same time.

Oh and finally, Maria posted Plain Parade’s entire history here. Commentary forthcoming. As always, hugs to anyone who played a show with us, spent their hard-earned dollars on our shows, wrote about us, or told us to keep fightin the good fight — especially during our dark Doc Watson’s daze. It keeps me coming back year after year.


May 22, 2006 at 6:54 pm 2 comments

Trying To Sing


PIERRE, S.D. – South Dakota lawmakers approved a ban on nearly all abortions Friday, setting up a deliberate frontal assault on Roe v. Wade at a time when some activists see the U.S. Supreme Court as more willing than ever to overturn the 33-year-old decision.

Republican Gov. Mike Rounds said he was inclined to sign the bill, which would make it a crime for doctors to perform an abortion unless it was necessary to save the woman’s life. The measure would make no exception in cases of rape or incest.

I’ve been depressed ever since I read this. What sort of mean-spirited person makes this kind of law in 2006 and why?

Not really related: last night I dreamt I was at karaoke and Jerk Jerkinelli was yelling out to me from the side, “Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaraaaaaaaaaaaah,” and bugging me like I was at work. I was like, “Dude, go away, I’m trying to sing.”

February 24, 2006 at 11:16 pm 1 comment

Take Me Out


I’ve had a nagging cough so I took some sick time today and spent most of it in bed. In the middle of the day I had the most fabulous dream. Maria told Franz Ferdinand that I should sing with them. The irony is that she’s a great singer in real life and often does an amazing version of “Take Me Out.” The Franz boys and me gathered around the piano and actually had me reading music, which I haven’t done since my viola-playing days in high school. After rehearsal, one of the boys in the band (who was not Alex, I think it was the dark haired one), sat down with me in front of a turntable and said to me, “Do you fancy some records? If it’s okay I’d like to play you some.” And then they took me shopping for their very smart looking suits and they actually found some that fit me and I looked like a very happening drag king or a cute androgynous girl.

February 23, 2006 at 9:42 pm Leave a comment

Movies I Watched With Ant While Snowed In


To tell you the truth, much of it’s a blur of wine, Doritos, and Wawa cold cuts.

Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle: Like Cheech & Chong but hotter and smarter. I don’t know if the Jew neighbors were a good or a bad stereotype, but at least they were the only white characters who were sympathetic to their plight and not assholes, which might be kind of like real life. I would watch more movies with Kumar as the male lead. I think it’s an untapped market.

Me and You and Everyone We Know:
All the adult characters talked in martian poetry which would have been forgiveable if any of them were likeable. I ilked the children the best, especially the youngest boy who coined the phrase “pooping back and forth.” I want an excuse to say that to someone. Plus like, Miranda July might be a rad artist and all, but she still upholds the indie film female ideal: skinny, flatchested, cryptic but non-threatening.

Born To Boogie: I would like to live in Marc Bolan’s curls. My favorite parts were the Monty Python-esque vignettes, like the one of a picnic with nuns eating hamburgers and a vampire and a string quartet and Marc Bolan singing shooby-dooby in his Mad Hatter hat. My favorite part of the concert footage was the audience. All the girls look like Amy DiCamillo of Undergirl and all the boys look like Kurt Heasley from The Lilys. Or maybe I have it backwards.

February 14, 2006 at 9:42 pm 2 comments

Livejournal – Pro or Con

I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do with this blog. And although it is a personal blog, I feel that some things are still too personal for the internet. Other things could get me fired. (Notice that I don’t unfavorably talk about my bosses, co-workers, or much in the way of procedures or “company secrets.”) Though I strongly believe that writers write, and often the best stuff comes from the personal, the unflattering, and the ugly, I’m thinking of getting a friends-only live journal. For the most part, the account will serve to read my other friends who are friends only.

The blog will continue to be candid, but I’ve got too many bad, disgusting secrets that I want to write about, just not for public consumption.

To my readers, do you have a live journal? Is it friends only? Why or why not?

January 11, 2006 at 8:06 pm 5 comments

I Can’t Quit Ya


Saw Brokeback Mountain with Andy the Boyfriend on Saturday. I’m glad that Andy was open-minded enough to see it with me. I loved so many things about it. Jake Gyllenhall’s big blue eyes, and the way he looked at Heath Ledger through his rearview mirror while shaving. The way their cowboy hats hang low over their eyes. The tight jeans. The cowboy boot walk. The countryside (why do the Republicans get to have the pretty states?). That thin, thin line between sex and violence, love and hate. The revealing spaces between words. At the end, Andy said that it was devasatating. I agreed. How far we’ve come and how far we have to go. Homophobia and sexism, both sides of the same coin.

January 9, 2006 at 6:05 pm 1 comment

Packing Hell

I could deal with boxing up 100 million CD’s if my hallway did not smell like dog pee. T-minus a week before I never have to deal with the housemate’s gf’s evil yipping pissing dog ever again.

Just sayin.

July 29, 2005 at 9:57 pm Leave a comment

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