30 April 2004---11:45a

I am being severly and painfully (not to mention in a horrifically expensive manner) punished for two things: #1, for disobeying my mother's wishes that I NOT get tattoos let alone totally obvious and visual ones and #2, for liking AFI way too much for way too long. The method of this rotten punishment? Tattoo removal. HOT DOG, it was the P-I-T-S!! I didn't take any longer than 60 seconds and yet I saw my life flash before my eyes (a majority of it was terribly embarrassing to boot!).

First my Nephilim was covered in freezing ultrasound goop and then I was alerted that it would feel like a rubberband snapping against my skin (the method was high impulse light removal which basical burns the tattoo off sort of like a sunburn). RUBBERBAND?!?! Possibly 8,000 rubberbands manufactured by THE DEVIL! It was maybe the most excruciating pain I have ever willingly subjected myself to. It was all I could do not to cry...and I mean the sobbing "I am in AGONY" kind of cry. Pits!

There were immediate results though which was thrilling. My tattoo shrunk up because my skin was so tight (I think it tightened out of fear), it was covered in nasty air blisters, and my skin was bright red due to the burn. Today, the blisteres are wiping away and my tattoo is 10x blacker than it was when I first got it due to the color rising to the surface. Soon, and after a few more visits, this with scab up and flake off and I won't have to wear turtlenecks in the summer or be foolishly embarrassed. I'm sorry Davey Havok, I will always hold a special place in my heart just for you, no matter how much of a lady you look like!

So today is the big, bad boxing match at Hooligan's. Part of me thinks it will be an alright way to spend my Firday night and part of me wishes I was going to Deke Dickerson. Luckily, to fill any void that may be caused, Meg-Dog and Switchblade (to whom this entry is dedicated) are accompanying me. At events like these, I don't get to socialize with my husband that much. He blames it on seeing people he hasn't seen in awhile but that's a crock! He spends most of the time with his everyday group of pals...but I'm not allowed to bring this up because this falls under the category of "starting shit". Whatevs. I'll have my pals, some Miller, and Jen and Patrick's impending nuptials and that's all I need to entertain myself. Screw everyone else and their 'tudes! Oh, and GO EZRA! Try not to injure anything that requires medical insurance! (P.S. I am not going to the Demon Summer premier at the Beachland. If my husband isn't going, I feel no obligation. I'd have WAY more fun watching Switch hone his social skills. Plus, that movie ruined my Halloween, it's not going to ruin my first day of May!)

Lessons I have learned this week include the fact that boys, as well as girls, are really effing stupid, do horrifically stupid things, and make retardedly bad judgement calls 99% of the time AND there are alot of people out there who are considered "nice" or "cool" who, in fact, are jerk-offs unworthy of my time. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND and see you in MAY!

26 April 2004---5:27p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Jimmy Soul "Take Me To Los Angeles".

Saturday earned 4 stars in my weekend grade book considering all the people who matter were in attendance, they all rocked out Tom Jones style and no one pulled a John Bonham, Sid Viscious, OR Courtney Love. Party fouls were limited to minimal beer spills, a few raised voices, and some uncalled for elitest behavior. I'm slimming my guest list from now on...cuttin' the fat. I know who rocks and they're all I need to turn my engine over. My crew + dance tunes + Birthday Cake Surprise = YEEHAW! P.S., no one knows how to play Truth or Dare anymore and that's disappointing. However, it is still possible to make drunk people touch other drunk people's asses.

When I grow up, after going back in time, I want to be:
A sound engineer.
A band member:
---guitarist or drummer in a garage rock band.
---bass player in a cover band.
---upright bass player in a rockabilly band.
A beautician.
A tattoo artist.
A legitimate painter.
An art history or mythology professor.
A BMX bike rider.
A welder.
A pastry chef.
A florist.
An independent film actress.
A fashion designer.
A music venue owner.
A bartender.
A short-story writer.
A puppeteer.
A special effects artist.
A house sitter.
A party planner.
A mortician/coroner.
A dentist.
A synchronized swimmer.

I bought a white dress with green and pink flowers so I can begin my life as a lame house wife disappointed with all the choices she's made a la Donna Reed. I will gain great pleasure from cleaning my house and cooking for my hard working husband while we live the American Dream of acting like cloned robots. However, I also bought a little black polkadot number befitting my secret nightlife as a-single-girl-about-the-rock-n-roll-town-looking-for-a-little-danger-and-excitement! This side of me will drink and smoke and snarl and wear dancing shoes inappropriate for "a lady". This whole paragraph actually spawned from the fact that I'm not as good of a shopper as I used to be but my imagination still thrives off fashion.

Friday night boxing featuring 3 rounds with Ezra von Coffin and 'I Rock the Facial Hair' Luke Campbell. My money is on Luke but my heart is with Ezra. I might need a 6-pack (or 2) to get me through it...I married my husband for his face after all and I don't want to see it rearranged...not to mention he doesn't have health insurance to repair a broken nose. Sheeeeeeesh!!

PETA's hostility towards Wrath Packers has nothing to do with homosexuality.

22 April 2004---3:04p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Pixies "Live 4-13-04".

Important note: I hate Ashton Kutcher but I love biochemical engineers. This leaves me at a funny sort of crossroads that just can't be crossed. Imagine that imaginable situation, if you will.

The song "Everlong" by the Foo Fighters makes me think dirty thoughts about sexy people while I'm driving my car. This gets me sort of hot-n-bothered which is probably not a wise frame of mind to be in while driving. Either way, the song gets my engine revvin'. Good work, fellas.

Complaints have been lodged about my use of the term "Wrath Packers" as supposedly the word "packer" is not PC for whatever reason. You know what I say to this anonymous PETA complainer? I'd say the following: How would you like it if I PC'd you in the nose with my boot? I'm so far from mothertruckin' PC, I hate feminists, vegans, and all other wimps and whiners, and I like to make stereotypical and derrogatory remarks whenever the opportunity presents itself. In the words of Milo Aukermann in his hay day, I want to be stereotyped! I want to be classified!. Eat that! And just as an additional ammendment, this Saturday, we will be known as the Wrath Six-Packers, as suggested by MVO.

67. James Franco as Daniel Desario
68. Martin Starr as Bill Haverchuck
69. ***secret crush***
70. ***secret crush***
71. Matt Dillon circa "The Outsiders"

Yesterday at the art museum, we saw a painting of some sort of monster with an eggplant. Now I feel the need to start a painting of a seamonster that IS an eggplant, as eggplants usually haunt me in my dreams. And whoever is dreaming about me at night, carry on, but I don't like Cadbury Eggs. Your stash is safe. I DO like to be called a schikza every now and again thought.

I've got some dirt on my shoulder. Could you brush it off for me?

18 April 2004---10:17p

Hangovers are the pits. If I wake up feeling like my skull has been smashed by a big rig, then it damn well BETTER have been smashed by a big effin' rig! And the only remedy I had consisted of Tylenol PM which is not effective if you want to utilize your Sunday. I guess suffering through the destroyed head was worth it considering the rockin' and rollin' time I had last night. Beers, broads, and bands...that's the way I like it. Is there really any other way?

The utter lameness compared to it's predecessor of Kill Bill Vol.2 was highly disappointing. My tortured lungs that are leading me to attempt to quit smoking are highly disappointing. The pain caused by needles upon needles ripping through the flesh on my elbow like a fat cop through a jelly donut is highly disappointing. The massacre at Columbine 5 years ago was highly disappointing. But the weather is so damn fine, why dwell? That's what I say!

I had my first tattoo lesson today and I can clearly see that there is far more to learn that I had originally thought but damn, am I fired up about it! First of all, I've been interested in tattoos and art for an eternity so evenr the slightest possibility that MAYBE I could do this, actually put a tattoo on another human being (I wanted to tattoo a melon but that idea got nixed), is pretty rad. Secondly, as of right now, I have no direction in life as far as what to do after college. I'm not saying that I'll ever actually work in a tattoo shop (wishful thinking), but if I DID, I could see myself being a very happy and content person and THAT would be fantastic. And lastly, listening to my handsome hubby talk about the mechanics and procedures and equipment was not only fascinating (literally, I thist for knowledge and learned a lot, although only a fragment of what I will need to know to be successful) but ultra sexy! He seemed so knowledgeable and I liked him educating me and letting me handle the machinary and ask questions. He even gave me a seminar book to read which is super hot and swanky seeing as we neevr discuss books or literature! I can't wait to go back for lesson 2. This all feels so surreal but I dig it. I'm a happy clam!

I'm hoping that a few of my crew members catch Spring Fever. I feel bad when my fellas are down in the ditches when they could be living it up, rocker style! I know things can get routine as far as how the weekends are spent (even I can get tired of the bar scene and going to shows, though it is rare), and that sometimes things happen that throw a wet blanket on our good time, but I'd like to think that no matter what we're doing or what happens, we benefit from each other's company. Bottom line: these absent or affected Wrath Packers are missed...especially by me. COME BACK TO THE FLOCK!! Catch the fever, people!

16 April 2004---12:33a

Last night, I said I didn't think Tom Petty or "The Boss" (BOSS? Who's boss? Not my effin' boss, no sir!) were such hot stuff and got a snappy and swift comeback about how I like Air Supply (I suppose this discredits me from having opinions). Now mind you, I wasn't verbally attacking anyone in particular, just making a statement of my own disintrests in the above mentioned shmuck-dogs. I also learned that I am wrong when I say I don't like heavily accented foreign bands doing certain covers and also wrong when I say much of Southern Culture On The Skids' material runs together for me. That's right...I'm WRONG. Pffffft. Sometimes I'm surprised I don't roll my eyes right out of my skull, they get so much exercise.

Yer tits are yer business so how's 'bout you keep 'em out my damn face? Just a suggestion. Mind yer business.

15 April 2004---9:55p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Neon King Kong "Live".

I have a crush and if you give me $1.00, a kiss on the cheek, and serenade me with a really cheeseball song, I'll tell you who it is, and that's a fact.

What's wrong with being a cold medicine junkie is what I want to know? I think there are far worse kinds of junkies to be, like the kind that lay dirty and dying in the gutter with some anonymous genital nearby. Cold medicine leaves you soothingly somber and complacent, and every now and again, lounging comfortably in the arms of a member of the opposite sex (or possibly, humiliatingly yet STILL comfortably, the SAME sex) that you don't know very well. I think we should all take a trip down Ny-Quil lane, whether we're branded bourgeois junkies or not.

If your name is James and your middle name is Edward, it really doesn't make sense to me that your nickname should be or could be "Teddy". That's a lot of disection right there, slicing away the first name, digging a nickname out of the MIDDLE name and then diving even deeper down to nickname THAT nickname. "Teddy"? Come on now. Just call him "Jim" or "Jimmy" if you MUST. This "Teddy" bullshit is unacceptable.

I have contracted chronic boredom which was only worsened last night when confronted with a case of wesawabandwithabigunsubstantiatedego-itis. It should be outlawed for any band to have a following based upon playing a guitar IN THE CROWD (hot dog!) or while balancing on an amp and screaming. Big flip, y'all. I do that shit at home for free with a chair and a broom in a FAR more dangerous and ridiculous fashion. But I am not a hidious Hispanic man with a mod haircut and a bad suit jacket. I guess that's what I paid the $7.00 for. Point is, I'm effing bored, I'm not going to see my husband for over 2 days which he probably doesn't care about, and they've stopped re-running "*61" on HBO (Why did America have room in its heart for only one hero?). Eff that noise!

When I start my band, our first album is going to be called, "This is the Work of One Salty Dog". It will fly of the shelves...probably due to frightening robotic wings I will install that will baffle everyone, even you Knife Chabek. Be prepared for your core to shake!

Mariah Carrey is going to put her life story down into print. I'm shocked that this didn't happen sooner!! And Little Kim is going to surrender herself after being indicted on some charges stemming from a 2001 shooting outside a radio station. I am also shocked about this and I NEVER lie...except for earlier in this paragraph when I said I was shocked about the Mariah Carrey book's grotesque delay. That was a lie to cover up my horrific detestment of said text. If the papers come to interview you about either of these events, try and look surprised, y'all. No one likes a know-it-all.

This entry was brought to you by the letters 'F' and 'U' and the number '666'. I took a time machine back to 5th grade when something like that would be cool and we'd all be like, Yeah, man. That's awesome, and wish we'd thought of it first.

13 April 2004---5:22p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: That Dog "Totally Crushed Out".

I've had my jam-packed weekend plans scheduled since yesterday and that makes me feel frisky, just the way I like it! However, I don't like being broke and being forced to eat hard cookies and old apple cider for breakfest AND lunch because there's nothing else. My cupboards are bare. Pretty soon, I'm going to triple the number of cats I own, spend excess time with Jack & Jim, and settle into my new lifestyle as a white trash wife with my stinky and unwashed husband. We're living the American Dream, folks.

Switchblade and I are running away to Chicago, even if it is only over night. My name is going to be Betty and his name is going to be Ted. We're sharing a bed to save money and he promised not to hump my leg during the night. That's the sweetest thing a guy's ever said to be, hands down. The Reatards are going to play and our socks are going to rock right off. It might be difficult being surrounde dby all those garage-rock scenesters but I'll find a way to manage. I'll have to perfect my wicked "don't step to this" glare.

Babbling has begun because I have nothing meaningful to say so I'll just say HOT CHA!

10 April 2004---12:43p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Statics "Punk Rock-n-Roll".

If last night was a movie, it would be titled "Back Seat Lacey and The Altar Boys in the Return of The Beast!". When Brodie makes a mysterious appearance at the local gang's clubhouse after a lengthy religious retreat, havok ensues due to cans of radio active poison! Will Lacey's built up immunity and Kookies of steel be enough to save this group of rebels and outcasts from impending intestinal doom after The Knife's poisoned breain leads to his unexplained suicide? Stay tuned...

Though I haven't heard her world famous and infectious laugh yet, I can sense that Byrne is in Ohio-state limits so you know what this means, don't you? It means you're obligated to put your best pair of dancin' shoes on, we are going out and we're painting the town with spilt beer and vomit! We're going to take advantage of the Loft's extended Happy Hour! We're going to dissect ridiculous subject matter! We're going to rape the jukebox at the Zephyr! Meg-Dog and I have been looking forward to this outting all effing week (as we have both been treading dangerously close to "the edge") and I'm declaring it OPERATION: KICKBACK AND UNWIND. I dont' care you gets in my way as I am programmed to be in automatic "EFF OFF" mode. I've only got so much tolerance to go around and tonight, I'm focused on my crew and making a total fool of myself (and out of them) which is altimatly immature and I dig it. YEEEEEEEEEEEHAW!

I want to start a band (I'm sure if you searched for this phrase throughout my blog career, it would blanket the great state of Wisconsin...where all great new young bands come from) and I'm starting it tonight. My husband informed me that he doesn't have hope for us making it so I better have some sort of back-up future plans. Being an alcoholic isn't in my liver's best intrest and all I get is negative "critique" about my painting so that's out. I'd rather just X out thing that makes me happiest in life that have another "artist" try and school me. Blech! And I'd rather drink tequilla until my eyes bled as well!!! That includes the worm. So...the band begins tonight and ends in a heroic and rock-n-roll fashion no doubt with someone accidentally dying, someone committing suicide, and someone going "mainstream". I love it. I'll eat it for breakfest!

My day will come. I know someday I'll be the only one.

8 April 2004---1:29p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Stray Cats "Choo Choo Hot Fish".

I saw "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" yesterday which was not a good plan considering the current state of woe that has been bonded with the air I've been breathing. Pirate and I talked about how selective mind erasing is most likely a horrific idea but we wavered on whether or not we would partake if the option became available. He was on the anti side suggesting that everything you go through in life and the memories you have help guide you, mold you, shape you into the person you are which is very true. Refardless, I would have done it without any hesitation after he left me in January for those cold and lonely 6 weeks I spent teatering on the brink. And I would have had no regrets because I wouldn't ever remember that we ever had a connection anyway. It's a dangerous game to play but equally as dangerous to think about.

I am on a hunger strike for no particular reason other than I completely lost my appetite. Now hopefully I'll lose some pounds and some toxins in the process. I feel the need to make drastic changes and I'd like to start with my ass.

6 April 2004---8:34p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Tiger Army "s/t".

If you go back and re-read December 2003 and January/February 2004, you may very well jump out a low-to-the-ground window just so you can break your legs and feel sorry for yourself. It's not really something I'd recommend but at this point, months after my personal tragedies, I think I could deal better with physical pain than this onslaught on emotional distress. Life rots. It's going around. Try not to catch it.

I decided not to enter my painting in the art show because I've lost the will to finish it. I have not lost the will to pack my bags and move to Missouri or Florida though. You can divy up my belongings when I disappear. And if you ever wanted to know if it was nice to know you...I'll tell you now that it was.

And once again, I need some action which I plan on getting in high doses this weekend. Switchblade and I have a party-pact and we signed it in blood...blood fused with Whiskey. And then we killed a hooker. It's all part of the master plan.

5 April 2004---1:36p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Teengenerate "Get Action".

10 years without Kurt Cobain. How did I survive? By not caring, that's how. That's how I make it through most of my days. A zero tolerance policy on sympathy/empathy is the only way to fly.

Some married women have fantasies about sleeping with a man other than their husband. Saturday night, I got to live that dream but it wasn't quite laced with the whistles and bells I had imagined with all the phlegm, snoring, bed hogging (followed by some difficult rolling over), and 2 elbows to the face which ended with me sleeping with a heavy arm across my head. It was a totally G-rated sleep even if you do include waking up with another man's hands between my knees. I was hoping to make y'all think something racy happened and then let you down painfully at the last second. I think I was successful.

Jessica Simpson is on the cover of my magazine this week. YEEHAW! This is about all I have to live for. This and submitting a painting to an art show. Yep. That sums up my happiness.

The horror convention is what I shall now call a "borrer convention" and I can gleefully say I won't be returning next year and if anyone knows how I can get back 2 waste dhours of my life, please let me know. Slap a few yawns on to that and it sums up my Sunday. No Mamie Van Doren in site. No "Rockabilly Vampire" on DVD. I did get to see my husband crawl out from under a table looking and smelling like he feel asleep in a vat of stale beer after some ruffians kicked his ass. He asked if my saying "You look like shit" was a compliment. I'm going to go with...no. Rumors report that he may be moving back in soon but those are just rumors.

Life is a drag. I need some action.

2 April 2004---3:35p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Reatards "Grown Up Fucked Up".

VIVA OHIO! It's swell to be home and mark my words, I missed y'all and need to do some catchin' up which I plan to do tomorrow night. Pour us a few a beers and let the bonding begin, cool kiddies!

A swanky Vegas vacation was just what this gal needed but I'll just a tad emo and admit I missed my crew, my beasts, and my castle terribly so really, there's no place like home. But don't get me wrong, I had a rockin' AND rollin' time and owe a boat load of thanks and spanks to my darlin' hubby without whom none of this would have been possible and I'd still be a wound-too-tight stressed out mess! And I hear that what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas so I'll just say that on top of sex, drinks, and rock-n-roll, the intresting tid-bits are as follows: airplane movies were improved (Intolerable Cruelty and The Rundown), a stripper gave me rose, I saw lots of boobies, I won a $100 and hit on everyone's numbers (even DAMNED 17 which NEVER wants to hit!!), and I got my picture taken with a homosexual purple dragon AND a giant yellow M&M. What more could you ask for? VIVA!!!

By the way, you'll all be getting cheap, crappy, cheesey Vegas souvenirs, not that you'd be expecting anything fancy. I had to save my bucks for $1 strawberry margaritas at Casino Royale! Thanks to everyone who drove us, picked us up, left funny messages, or took care of our children. You rule and are superior to all beings on this doomed planet!

Byrne comes home next weekend. Put your dancin' shoes on!

News on the blog front: soon this page may be no more. I'm having a web-page designed to host my blog, pictures, artwork, upcoming shows and events, links, and a message board. When the ball gets rolling, I'll let y'all know of the new locale. Other than that news...I'm pretty much all worn out and jet lagged...I'm not good on planes so I need one more day of recovery. I have a date with The Knife to go to the Fright Vision Horror Convention on Sunday so if anyone else wants to tag along, feel free. I'm going to meet Mamie Van Doren...and you're not!

WELCOME APRIL! Only 43 more days until the Bahamas adventure begins. Didn't I just get home???