***LOOK cool. ACT cool. BE cool.***

27 February 2004---8:59p

My freshly tattooed feet hurt too badly to blog. I am not going to blog again until March. See y'all then.

24 February 2004---2:15p

Hey y'all! Did you miss me while I was rantin' and ravin' in the wilds of Columbus? Then why not give me a great big, welcome home, sloppy wet one on the kisser? What better way to make a gal feel appreciated and missed more than by bathing her face in your hot saliva? YEEHAW! My engine is revving, cats-n-kittens!

I have dance fever, let me tell you all that right now. I have dance fever so hot that you could call it a fee-vah! I swear that I can almost hear my dancin' shoes calling to me at night and I think they're in cahoots with my fishnet stockings!! Oh la la, the questionable antics of my famous footwear and hosiery! I almost want to go to a dance club or 80's night and shake my tail feathers, if ya know what I mean. And you know what else I want? I want a handsome fella to ask me to dance to which I can initially, but politely, refuse as I don't want to break a sweat, and then suggest he buy me a nice cold Miller Lite to cool me off before we cut a rug.

I want a frozen margarita and I want YOU to serve it to me! I also want to wear a black cowboy hat while this happens...and Blondie should be playing. And you should write a song about me on your guitar and it should rock! And by the way, who are you??

You know who makes me firey hot? Flaming Carrot Man, and it has nothing to do with the flame spurting out of his head at all...it has to do with his ability to single handedly save a community from a group of thugs (thugs that used poisoned bologna to knock people out and rob them...and probably gingerly nuzzle their testicles) and then pick up some "ladies of the evening" after getting sauced at his local gin joint. What a fella, indeed!!

I have a date to go to the picture show with a cat named The Knife tomorrow. Hot cha! Maybe we can have one of those "both hands in the tub of popcorn" moments. But maybe that would be both filthy and perverse since we have a mutual "you're not my type policy". But what ARE our types, you may ask...we don't know. We just know the others person doesn't fit the bill. I would however like a chap who puts his hand on the small of my back when leading me into a room. Heart go throb!! I bet The Knife would do that for a few lucky ladies. See how I brought this whole paragraph full-circle? Right back to talking about The Knife? Smoooooooth!!

Due to the legal bindings of marriage and the as-yet-incomplete divorce proceedings, I can for the next 3 days use the sentence "My husband is in jail" (thought it's not because of the above statements that he IS in jail...those statements just allow me to use the term "husband" Got it, smart guy?). How hot is that? Firey hot! I've been able to use that phrase about many a fella who was a-courtin' me but never about the man I took vows in front of Elvis with. I hope he keeps to himself...that pre-pubescent face could make him an easy target to be someone's next girlfriend. Sigh...prison life. I'm gonna go to jail. Baby, I don't care. They can rough me, cuff me, stuff me, I don't care!

Come one come all to Margaritaville @ the Whore House here in Keeeeent on Saturday to celebrate the fact that I have to be fingerprinted AND get a TB tests this week. I'll provide the tunes and tits, you provide the drunken antics that I've come to daydream about during my insomnia riddled nights. No GHB or mooning, please! SMOOCH!

21 February 2004---5:12p
MUSIC TO BLOG TO: Air Supply "The Definitive Selection".

I'm pushing 13 hours of being awake with a drive down to Columbus in the very near future. The insomnia is getting out of hand and wearing me down mentally and physically but I am getting so much done! I've already weeded out bags upon bags of stuff I just don't need. I've always been anti-pack rat which makes me mind boggled on how I accumulated so much trash! Check for lots of this junk on eBay.

I had a nice early morning message session with Robert/David about everything from BMX to pseudo-intellectuals to insomnia to divorce. It's amazing how you can get from bike riding to the dissolusion of marriage in so few steps. Either way, the messages cheer me up hardcore (I feel very Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail"-ish, but with better hair and less obnoxious facial expressions and verbal mannerisms). I've never had an online buddy like so many of my pals have as I'm always ten technological steps behind. It's comforting and, as corn-dog as this sounds, I feel like I can really be myself...it's much easier to talk about whatever I want while wearing no make-up and sporting some serious body skunk and bad breath because no one is here to care! God bless you, My Space!

Welcome the newest addition to the O'Malley clan: Cowboy Dan Oates Stuart Lex Holden Hal Tofu Soy-Bean Leary Milkshake O'Malley! I told his Mom that I thought that name was a little pretentious but she's never listens to me anyway. Welcome little one! Go show those mice who's boss (but watch out for the rat nazis a la "Secret of Nihm")!!

I made some CDs for a special someone today (so I'm not going to go into detail about how ROCKIN' they are and WHO the special someone might be) and cried the entire time I was typing the song list out. If I didn't JUST have a visit from "My Girl Flo", I would swear I was pregnant. I can't move furniture or microwave maccaroni and cheese without crying these days and that is just NOT good for me. What is also not good for me is listening to "In a Darkened Room" by Skid Row or "Without You" by Motley Crue over and over and over again because it leaves me feeling melancholy.

I am officially appalled and strangely fascinated by how rank I smell. Something must be done! See y'all Monday!

20 February 2004---8:35p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: AFI "Sing the Sorrow".

I just went out and bought a huge and quite elaborate stalk of lucky bamboo. The package said that 3 stalks influence love and 5 stalks influence wealth...I'm hoping that the 4 stalks I bought will dabble a little in both arenas because gawsh dangit, I could use a little luck right about now. Just to juice up my chances of happiness fostered by my lucky bamboo, I have housed the stalk in my favorite cowboy boot beer mug. If this doesn't help, I don't know what will!

I gutted, cleaned, rearranged, and redecorated my living room (hot Friday night plans, I know). And this may sounds bad, but I did it to get the lingering ghost of my "husband" out of here. Wether or not we're trying to reconcile, I needed to take this place back. There were too many bad memories of him creeping around. Now it's like a brand new room that doesn't feel like him at all. I'm really not trying to sound like a bad person...I just really needed to cleanse. When the last bastard who lived here left, I let him haunt the place for years and finally some new carpet and a fresh coat of paint kicked his ghostly ass to the curb. Now I really feel like I'm on the road to starting over...I just wish I could get a new bed because that bed harbors too many sleepless nights filled with nightmares, screaming, crying, and drenched pillows. Maybe next year...KING SIZE!

I've decided to stop analyzing my current situation (which I have been agonizing over) because it is clearly out of my hands and all I'm doing is driving myself insane. Do I want it to work? OF COURSE I do. Do I think it will work? Sadly, part of me doesn't think so. Today someone told me that a relationship like mine is like a dying pet...you may love it so much that it hurts but sometimes the best thing for everyone is to put it to sleep. I thought that was really dopey at first but now I kind of get it.

I'll admit, I'm very sad today. I want to be able to shout "I love him! He loves me! We're going to be together and happy forever", but during "the six weeks of horror", my brain and heart have been scrambled into a spoiled omlette (recently I heard something about hearts cracking like eggs into a frying pan...or something like that, which is kind of rank). I was in love (with "the one", I might ad...in love enough to commit to him FOR-EVA) and now I'm in limbo. It's the pits.

I bought myself some flowers and a magazine with Nick and Jessica on the cover (Is her fame tearing them apart? Jealousy. Hurt feelings. The Newlyweds open up about their secret struggles - and how hard it is to keep it hot!) and I'm having Giggle Noodle Soup for dinner. I figured the smiles, stars, and moons couldn't hurt my mood at all.

OK, I'm shaking everything off...BRRRRRR!!!...I am releasing the evil so to speak. Hopefully, I will wake up refreshed and optimistic for my Killoumbus Weekend Birthday Road Trip. I don't think anyone is going to have a good time if I am gawking at my "husband" with a wrinkley, confused, distraught, miserable brow. I need a hug. I wish my cats were more advanced, God bless them. And God bless Brittney Spears for letting someone write the song "Toxic" for her. It gets me through the rough spots that listening to "Brick" by Ben Folds Five and "Someday" by Nickleback create. I bet I just lost some friends.

60. Kyan from Queer Eye
61. Hank III (he might already be on the list somewhere)
62. Andy Campbell
63. Timothy Olyphant
64. Erik Starr
65. Pete Yorko
66. Mr.Big

I might sell my wedding dress on eBay. It keeps taunting me. The shoes, too.

19 February 2004---7:04p
MUSIC TO BLOG TO: Liz Phair "Exile In Guyville"

I am in such a bad place right now and it only took me less than 12 hours to get here. I woke up this morning feeling on top of the world like all my problems were sorted out and I was hitting the high road to Happyville (see earlier entry where I actually use the term "Happiness Pie", for fuck's sake!).

This was followed by an afternoon of gossiping about my metamorphosis with Meg-Dog over lunch (which makes me feel like a New Yorker, as they can only discuss their problems over classy meals. My meal took place in a restaurant decorated with cowboy boots and posters of Texas cities...goodbye Houston, hello Dallas).

This all leads to the evening portion of my day where I reflected on everything that had occurred thus far and while reviewing my gossip/trash talk session, I started to wonder whether I actually believed ANYTHING that I said to Meg because after review and reflection, it really did seem like I was trying to convince myself of something. Like I wasn't quite sure I believe the words that were coming out of my mouth...like I had to talk myself into believing I am doing the right things.

Now it's almost night time and my life is THE PITS once again because I am doubting everything that I thought and everything that I said today...except for when I said that I can only REALLY count on Meghan, that I think Conan O'Brien is sexy, and that I can't sleep. All those things remain true. My mind is attacking itself! There is a heart vs. brain war!! How many chances am I supposed to give people? Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life being second best to other people and other things? Is it wrong to think I deserve better? Am I going to kick myself for all of this later? AM I EVER GOING TO GET ANY SLEEP!?!?!?!

I am currently obsessed with the Lagwagon album "Hoss". I really didn't know why because I've liked it before, it's always been a "come and go" album in my collection...but it hasn't left my player for the last 3 weeks. Today, I was informed by my new brain stimulator, Robert/David, that I like it "because it's a kick ass break-up album. Lots of despair and disillusionment interspersed with fits of rage and bravado". I read this and broke down in tears...I am listening to pop-punk THINKING that I'm enjoying it because it is upbeat and peppy and I can car-dance to it but in all actuality, I'm depending on it to be in heavy rotation because it is so fucking sad. He was right. I wish I could say things like "I don't why I'm doing this but..." and have him reply and tell me the facts. Maybe that would lighten the load on my brain if I had someone else to answer all my questions. And you know what else? "Lost In Translation" has ruined my opinion on commitment, marriage, and love. Whenever something starts going the way it SHOULD, you discover that it can never work out...romantic perfection is an impossibility and if you're lucky enough to get close to it, it only lasts for the duration of a vacation. I need to start drinking more whiskey.

I've decided that I no longer loathe boys/men who cry. I'm going to go return my videos and listen to Lagwagon.

19 February 2004---8:51a

Per usual, my body hates me and I hate it! I haven't been sleeping very well recently (and when I DO manage to catch a few winks, I have the most bizarre, obscene, and physically active dreams so I wake up exhausted!) and I have now acquired some sort of condition where I am car sick (hardcore sweating, dizzy, nauseous) whether I am in a car or not. This does not allow for proper day-to-day functioning, I'll tell you that much. I am supposed to join my beloved Meg-Dog (who has me hooked on Hershey's Nuggets, damn you) to see MTX tonight at the Grog Shop but to be honest, I don't see that happening, but I'm not going to rule it out as a possibility post-recovery. For now, I just have to suffer with a smile because there are things that need to be done around this joint. Frown.

Getting a tattoo of a woman, any woman, on your thigh should be outlawed. I really can't think of anything more trashy.

So, I guess I have a "husband" again. After almost calling the whole relationship fiasco off due to fear of having my heart stomped on once again (coupled with a dash of confused feelings towards my mate), followed by a tearful and confusing argument, I finally have a pretty clear picture of where we both want to be. We fit together for some ridiculous reason (and as The Knife, who I miss dearly, says, we are "retarded for each other") and I still truly believe that he is "the one", as homo as that sounds. Sure, I sort of wish we had never started dating in the first place (I really think we're in different places...I've done all the dating I need to do, I am ready to start looking towards the future being commited to just one person, yadda yadda...not that that should make me sound like a lame-ass. I still want to ROCK, I just want to rock WITH that special someone) and I know a lot of people are wary about a reunion of Pirate and Wench but I would kick myself in the face if I didn't at least try and make this work. I owe it to him (and he owes it to me, BIG TIME) to put forth some effort and yesterday, I heard what I needed to hear, I guess. I got an apology that seemed so genuine...not that he hasn't apologized (for making a HUGE, HUGE mistake...I mean, who throws away a beautiful, funny, smart, rockin' wife like THIS?) before, but this time, I knew he really meant it and that he wants to be with me as much as I want to be with him. I think when I went to bed last night, I felt 100% whole and that hasn't happened in a LONG time. It's nice to get a slice of happiness pie. End mushy-squishy transmission now.

I'm heading back to Killoumbus this weekend with my husband and my best friend to fondue-it-up with the Queen B herself in honor of our births (she will be 21 this year, just for the record). I missed Killoumbus as soon as I left so I'm jazzed about going. I went and secured birthday gifts for the Queen and I must say, I did a pretty damn good job, but I had help. She does so many rad-ass things for me that I feel it's time to repay the good deeds. She is an excellent surrogate mother.

My issue of The Wave came yesterday (which is a magazine that comes from my high school listing alumni pregnancy, weddings, engagements, deaths, the whole kit-n-kaboodle). My May wedding was announced in it in beautiful black print. I wanted to cry (bawl, weep). I also wanted to cry while browsing wedding literature at Barnes & Noble. I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted a wedding (not to mention just to marry the man of my dreams and have the whole world, rather then a select few, know about it)...the whole sha-bang type deal with the bridesmaids and the cake and the rehearsal dinner. Not that Las Vegas wasn't great...the same emotions, at least on my part, were exchanged and I made the same commitment I would if I was in a white dress in a church followed by a fancy shmancy reception. My newly stitched up heart split just a little. I'll just have to live super vicariously through Queen B's wedding and be happy that things are at least looking up for me. It would be hard to pine for a wedding if I didn't have a potential groom, you dig?

I'm going back to my bed. There's a warm, if not somewhat sweaty, body waiting for me in it...and it's a living person so don't get gruesome on me.

16 February 2004---9:39a

I thought that 2004 would reign supreme and I made all these declarations about how it was going to be the best year EVER and beat the pants off lousy 2003 but MAN, was I wrong! 2004 is not relationship friendly, I'll tell you that much. First, my "husband" walks out on me for really no good reason and pushes me almost to the edge of mental sanity making me feel like I did something wrong when I was a DAMN GOOD girlfriend/wife. Then the Meg-Dog/Tony Rocky Horror union comes to an end once again and maybe once and for all (I support whatever she wants to do whenever she wants to do it because she is smart and she rocks). Then of course there's the whole Ben and J.Lo fiasco which I shouldn't even comment on because it's just so disgusting...they bought each other Bentleys as gifts! I can barely scrape up enough change to buy a TOY BENTLEY! And now the break up to end all break ups. You should brace yourself people because this will come as the utmost shocker, and this isn't fluff as it was in the NEWS and you can believe EVERYTHING on the news:

After like 50 some odd years, BARBIE AND KEN HAVE OFFICIALLY BROKEN UP! If Barbie and Ken can't keep it together, then I don't have hope for any of us! And she has a new flame, that's the reason for the break up. BRYCE! He's a surfer dude with a lame surfer haircut! I almost choked on my dinner when I heard this. I was speechless and I felt a little pain in my heart. There was some discussion about what "Divorce Barbie" would come with (my suggestion is a pack of condoms and some empty liquor bottles with a 12 pound weight loss) but they were actually living in sin all that time. And as much as I'd like to blame Ken for being an utter bonehead like all male counterparts of relationships are these days, it was probably Barbie who walked out. FUCK YOU BARBIE! And FUCK YOU BRYCE! This just riles me up. Fuels my fire, so to speak.

After a Valentine's Day full of stomach cramps and heartbreak, I have run away to Killoumbus once again. I find such solace here, and it's not just because Queen B cooks for me (chicken tonight!) and pampers me with loads of blankets and movies and constant companionship. I just feel better here. As soon as I get on 270 towards Dayton, I feel refreshed and to be quite honest, I dread going back to dreary, nasty, pitiful Kent. My skin looks bad in Kent. I look like Georgia O'Keefe when I'm in Kent...I should start painting desert scenes and skulls.

Off the path of misery that I have chosen to pursue today, I'd like to comment that I found the book "Night Chills" by Dean Koontz to be very erotic when I was young. It's probably not so erotic now. Isn't it funny what had the potential to "melt the butter" when we were young? Now it is strictly bathroom material...and not in a "touching yourself inappropriately" sense.

When I was down, you came to me and promised you'd always be by my side...now you're gone and I'm waiting patiently.

14 February 2004---10:06a

HAPPY 22nd BIRTHDAY LITTLE ERIN!!!

I'd say Happy Valentine's Day but why? It's not a holiday that's going to make anyone I know, including myself, very happy. It's just a nasty 24 hour reminder that love and relationships have the potential to be the utter PITS and they usually are! But if anyone out there is exchanging chocolate and flowers with a special someone, good luck with that. I'm routing for, and laughing at, you.

I started out my day by watching one of those hour long infomercials on the St. Jude's Children's Cancer Research Hospital. I don't recommend that to anyone as a day opener...they shouldn't even be able to air those things until after 1:00p at the earliest! Luckily, a 10 minute feature on the Bullet Blender and Juicer restored homeostasis in my fragile and tired brain. If I had a credit card handy, I would have picked one up...right after I adopted a cancer baby.

My pin-up pictures are now featured ont he Rock-n-Roll Purgatory page. I am by FAR the biggest nerd that has ever roamed the Earth and I'm cool with that.

Yesterday, I was refered to as a "sometimes wife". I can't even EXPLAIN to you how this practically gave me the ability to set things on fire with my eyes. First of all, how DARE someone say something like that to me as it is NO ONE'S BUSINESS...especially with the situation being as upsetting to ME as it is, it should be off-limits (and it is VERY upsetting but who the Hell cares about how I feel about it anyway?). And secondly, I'm glad that it's all such a laughing matter. Let's make a joke at the expense of someone who had their heart ripped out and STOMPED ON and is still waiting around for further "instructions" like a MORON! God, I really am a fool. Maybe I deserve to be poked fun at...after all, I'm agreeing to sit around and be someone's "sometimes wife". I should punch myself in the throat.

I can't stop thinking about chocolate covered pretzels. I'm going to have to seek some out to initiate some self-love. I learned that flowers mean you're sorry and chocolate means love. Saturday morning telelvision teaches you a lot.

I went out with Meg-Dog for a short while last night. We enjoyed a nice dinner and the new upstairs at the Zephyr while deciding that love is for fools. We are each other's dates for Valentine's Day and I dig that. We won't upset each other, we won't be mean to one another, we won't freak out in public or anything, and we certainly won't break up turning the whole night into drama. It should be the best Valentine's Day EVER! I am going to drink a red drink...that's about as far as I'll go.

12 February 2004---6:51p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Hank III "Risin' Outlaw".

Is it Friday yet? I'm itching to get dolled up and get out on the town! I've got the devil pulsing through my veins and he wants to rock!

Oh, Shelton! Even with your marijuana leaf patches and your wannabe-psychobilly, feminine screeching, you took two city girls from Cleveland, OH and turned them into honky tonk mush, you fox you! In less pathetic wording, the Hank III show last night was fan-fucking-tastic and Meg-Dog was one of the best dates I've ever had! I should have worn my cowboy hat. Drat! Why do I always let fashion opportunities pass me by? We left before the "Hellbilly" portion ("Nightmare Man" Joe Buck who played with the Legendary Shack Shakers was the BASS PLAYER! YIKES!) of the show but it was a 4-star evening! YEEHAW, Y'ALL!

Want to know who my favorite femal back-up singer is? Meghan O. from The Faint of Heart. But I hear they're staging some lame Valentine's Day protest in Coventry. Leave the poor loverbirds alone!

I have dates for Valentine's Day but I can guarantee that no one is getting laid. I'm not feeling very romantic this year, circumstances being obvious and all. This would be a nice opportunity for Meg-Dog to stage a return of her singing career. I don't even care if it's Spoon or Belle and Sebastian.

I'm having a little bit of an emotional crisis but it's a tiny one. Not too emo. No one can give me an emo band name name to use as an example of the proportion of my emo-ness. Blech! Anyway, my crisis involves a comparison to Jessica Simpson so if that is going to poison your brain, just click the little "close this page" X now. Anyway, Jessica Simpson's new song is all about how she can be exactly who she is and doesn't have to put up any sort of front with her husband. She can say stupid things and she doesn't have to get gussied up and she can make big mistakes and always be able to depend on him and she's comfortable with that and appreciates it. I don't think I'm ever going to have that and it's disappointing. I guess a girl can't have everything, right? (I guess securing my california plane ticket should be enough to keep a smile on this 'puss).

...7 long months, 39 days to turn my ways around.

11 February 2004---1:23p
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Catholic Boys "s/t"

Well, last night was eventful to say the least...the VERY least. One minute, you're drugged up and settling in for some hardcore make-up sleep (not to be confused with hardcore make-up SEX) and the next thing you know, you're talking on the phone to the Ravenna highway patrol at 2:30a. Everyday is an adventure!

I got my new license. My head looks large but the famous "I have so many teeth and I'd like to show them all to you right now" smile won't be fooling anyone. It's me...and I'm 25...and I have a new license that cost me $25.00 and for that fact, I feel robbed. In totally unrelated news, I got a hoodie in the perfect shade of gray. It may be one size too big so it will have to be my "hold me and comfort me hoodie" rather than my "stylishly fit under my trendy denim jacket hoodie". Either way, it's a beauty!

So due to a parade of icky sticky yucky circumstances, I have lost my companion for Hank III. I'm going to spend some quality time with Meg-Dog who thinks she is losing it (while I think she is far more together than most people I've met in my entire life...and she has lovely smelling hair...and a mule) and then I may be going it alone. 25 is a lonely age but I'll make the most of it...the show that is. I plan on wasting every possible second of this rotten age. I'll just play everything by ear, I guess. Maybe Hank III will fall in love with me and I can become Mrs. III (I hear my current husband may be running away to a different state for a new start but that's just a hideous rumor that I'm helping to spread). ISSUE RESOLVED: Meg-Dog is now my escort for the evening. She likes shows and she thinks Hank III is cute, which he is!.

Twister Raspberry Lemonade has totally rearranged my universe. Buy some or perish.

10 February 2004---2:05p

I did not get ANY sleep last night and I am not exaggerating in the least, believe me. I think I can hands down say it was THE worst and most sleepless night of my life and I've racked up some pretty shady evenings (mostly in the last 8 weeks). It got to a point where I was in tears, soaking my pillow because I was so mentally exhausted but my body was physically awake. My legs and feet were twitching for so long that I had to get out of the bed and walk around the house bawling like a crazy person trying to wear myself out. It didn't work. I slept from midnight to 1:00a and that's all, folks. Needless to say, I'm in pretty bad shape right about now and there's no point in trying to nap because then I'll be up all night again. Pits.

I went and sat at the Zephyr bar with my pals like a drunk townie just as I had planned. It was exactly what I needed...low key and fun, even if I heard a little more Yeah Yeah Yeahs than I had planned. I need to fit more of those kind of events into my schedule to balance things out considering I am filled with more doubt than ever before about certain aspects of my life. Things need to change gears pretty soon because I'm getting worn out.

Hank III tomorrow night! So many cowboys, so little time!

9 February 2004---10:09a
MUSIC TO BLOG BY: Lagwagon "Hoss"

Good news! I did not burst into flames when I walked through the doors of the church last night. However, I was photographed in the holy Catholic setting so I'm sure my horns with appear in the picture and I will be banished to a dark, dry, and lonely place to perish. I don't think I'm special enough to be crucified and that's A-OK with me.

Meg-Dog (and hopefully Brodie) and I are going to sit at the bar of the Zephyr like a trio of old drunks tonight. It's a Monday night so we should have the run of the place, including ye old jukebox. We are going to listen to every tune they've got and cry into our beers...and by "cry", I mean tears of hysterical JOY, of course!! I have an itch to get out and have some fun (because I did totally bomb in that department where Saturday was concerned) so that's what I'm going to do!! In fact, I hope I make a fool of myself because that is always fun. Screw responsibility, that's what I say!

I have birthday gift cards to spend and spend them I will eventhough my Magic 8-Ball (which I am now entrusting to guide my future) said "Don't even think about it, BUSTER!". Pfffft.

8 February 2004---11:43a
MUSIC TO BLOG TO: Modest Mouse "Lonesome Crowded West".

I'm 25. It's the pits. Yesterday the official "birthday blues/early mid-life crisis" set in so I was an ultra dud at my birthday bar outing, and I'll be the first to admit it. I was all jazzed to go out and then about an hour into the function, POW! I was out for the count...and I'd like to apologize to everyone for that fact. You were all rad enough to come out to my neck of the woods and I was a total downer. I just can't help feeling that I'm 25 and I have accomplished absolutly nothing but the world's longest and most hopeless college career, a failed marriage that has turned into a confusing relationship/waiting game (and let's not leave out the couples counselling), and an unbeatable ability to not be able to take care of myself without intense assistance. I just feel rotten and low.

But HEY! I felt AWESOME on Friday night at my birthday show so I guess I can't call the whole birthday a loss. Most of my friends were there (damn you Knife and Queen B!!) and it was one of those nights that was just PERFECT from beginning to end and can never be recaptured. I got gifts (Oh la la! Burlesque panties!! Thank you Meg-Dog!) and drinks and kisses from boys and a whole bar singing "Happy Birthday" to me...HELL, I even got a song called "I Want To Get In Your Pants" played in my own personal honor! Thank the Lord for my designated driver because I was out like a light before we even got off I-90. Needless to say, my hangover in the morning was precious and well deserved. Thank you to everyone that attended...you all rock hardcore!

So there you have it, the weekend that brought me here to 25 years of age. I probably would have sobbed myself to sleep last night if Brodie didn't come over and tell my favorite stories about his Grandpa ("What's wrong with your pants??"). I'm a bummer...big time. But I have shows lined up this week so that should help out. Hank III on Wednesday and a line-up of rockabilly greats at the Lime Spider on Friday (Cowslingers, Wailin' Elroys, Legendary Hucklebucks)...however, I'm going to both of these alone (feel free to volunteer your company) so though the rockin' will help ease the soul, the loneliness that has become a staple in my life since Decemeber will no doubt open old wounds. I'm going to go wear my birthday tiara and feel bad for myself before I have to go to a confirmation. Sigh.

I am 25. It's the pits.

5 February 2004---4:36p
DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY: 1 day.

Ugh. I think a case of the birthday blues just came and smashed me the effing skull like a sledgehammer or other blunt and heavy brain-numbing object. I don't usually get this particular affliction so I'm not quite sure how to make it take a hike. I think everything that happened last month (otherwise known as the damnation of my relationship and my personal abandonment by someone I loved) is just lingering. Sure, I guess things are 10x better now then they were 4 weeks ago but I don't know...something is missing that may never be able to be replaced. I probably shouldn't think about it too much as I don't want my birthday totally ruined buy a hideous hovering dark cloud.

On the plus side, I had a 3:00a visitor. It's nice to hear that I'm missed and it's nice to know that someone missed me so much that they drove over in the middle of the night just to sleep in the same bed with me and tell me so. That kind of stuff is pretty cool.

I think the UPS man just delivered some of my shirts! Ugh. Though my "Greasers Do It Better...and FASTER!" shirt is beautiful and very cool, I fear an adult small is too big for me. Wah. I got all my shirts in adult small. Blech. Mental note that next time, I have to get youth large. I am disappointed.

I'm going to go get tattooed. I'm bored. (***I just returned from the tattoo shop. People that say getting your elbow inked is rough are NOT fibbing. I have an elbow boo-boo!).

4 February 2004---5:51p
DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY: 2 days!

We earned a gold star for excellent communication in couples counselling this morning. It didn't feel very satisfying though considering the conversations we had seemed very reminiscent of conversations we've ALWAYS had. I might have felt more "thumbs up" about it if I was actually awarded a gold star to put on my forehead.

I was disappointed in the Cheesecake Factory. However, I was not diappointed in the hours that their lousy service afforded me to spend with Meg-Dog. I learned that Beachwood Place is too hoity-toity for me, Meg-Dog has good taste in stuff, and that I don't like the Caramel Apple Cider from Starbucks.

I wish Queen B would hurry up and get married already! There's nothing like wedding food, an open bar, and dancing in a froo-froo dress like you're at your high school reunion to make you appreciate how fun life really can be. Some people I know could really use a good time!

And for a good time, why not come on my tour down memory lane this weekend in celebration of making it through 25 long and somewhat horrific and terrifying years living in the midwest? This particular party of fame and shame begins at the Beachland Ballroom Friday night for a little razzle dazzle with Lords of the Highway, the Coffin Bangers, and the Skillet Lickers (yes sir, you read that correctly and if you go searching for these fine folks, don't confuse yourselves with the fellas who rocked it southern style in the 1920s...I'm pretty sure they're happily in their graves playing that great banjo in the sky). Party time continues on Saturday at the Loft, Zephyr, and any other bar I can make a fool of myself at in dowtown Kent. Be there or be a loser sittin' at home doing absolutly nothing special. That's where the fun time fiesta ends as Sunday, I have to sit in a church to witness my nephew's exceptance into the Catholic church as an adult with a hangover...me, not him I don't think a hangover is a condition to have faith these days). Things have been rough since December so please forgive me if I think I deserve two whole days straight of nothing but good times and rock-n-roll with the people I love. And if I want to wear a tiara and hold a scepter, DAMN IT, I'LL DO IT! I thought my life would be far different by 25 but it's still very comparable to just regular 5.

Nick and Jessica and Carmen and Dave and vodka and schnapps TONIGHT!

I decided that my next tattoo is going to be of a greaser skull (I'm actually not sure if I want it to be a girl or a boy with a pompador...I think a girl would allow for more color but she'd have to have a rockabilly 'do) with crossed bloody switchblades (pink ones if it's a girl) and a banner that says "STAY GOLD". I don't care if lots of people have that phrase. "The Outsiders" was like my Bible through most puberty and high school and it would make me very happy. I'm happy just thinking about it!! YEEHAW PONYBOY!

3 February 2004---1:15p
DAYS UNTIL MY BIRTHDAY: 3 days!

Rest in Peace, Buddy Holly, just as you have been resting for the past 45 years!

I'll be honest, I came in here with the intention of editing yesterday's entry by request but I just don't have it in me to retell the whole story in a more upbeat and flattering fashion. Bottom line: it was a decent weekend but nothing to write home about so why even redo it? It was fairly boring the first time.

I am going to be 25 this weekend, which I'm sure you're all sick of hearing but honestly, there are very view things that make me more jazzed than my birthday!! When it's your birthday, all the people you want to surround yourself with get together and play nice and hey, it's fun to be the center of attention. I have very rad ass memories of past birthdays where my friends are concerned because everyone tends to put on their happiest faces and cut loose for a whole evening. I wish everyone could be present but NO! Some people had to move to KILLOUMBUS and get all responsible. BLECH! Either way, I think this is the most excited I've been for a birthday since I turned 22 and passed out standing up at the Mantis. Ah, memeories.

I have to study for my Classical Mythology test which is at 2:30p. I just can't wrap my head around the 1,000 goofy names I'm supposed to know. It's not like they're simple like Ted or Bob. Wouldn't it have been cooler if someone named "Ted" was the hero of The Trojan War? I'm going to have to say YES!

A rumor is circulating that The Knife MIGHT be abscent from our Bahamas excursion due to a possible career in radio broadcasting!! DAMN YOU and your saultry radio-friendly voice! Hopefully this can all be resolved because if not, WHO WILL GO TO THE CIGAR BAR WITH ME?? Who will be the Dean Martin to my Angie Dickinson??