Thursday, December 10, 2015

Trick question, Lemmy is God

Long ago and far away in the land of cheese a magical night began that was like no other.. what? Yes I am telling this story like a fairytale. When this blog was overflowing with stories of my life and adventures I wrote about this night and now that it is a mistier memory it has a beautiful snow globe effect covering it; instead of just the freezing snow that was covering the ground making me shiver my ass off as I walked uphill to the venue in Wisconsin that night.

The Rave, my trusted friend for music, shenanigans, mosh pits, underage girls (don't look at anyone just assume they are 16 and move along) and EPIC tales of adventure. On this night it was not just a simple show, it was Motorhead. Lemmy. My first time with the one and only and I was so ready to have my eardrums blasted out and be deaf for days, not speak for a week from screaming, and elbow anyone that got in my way. All while wearing my 6 inch platforms, a corset with metal rings and a skirt that had the same rings going up the sides and back that you had to be locked into and weighed about 30 pounds.The perfect little black dress for your first Motorhead Prom.

Giggling and shivering and running on snow in heels, with long blue and black wild hair I was breathless when bursting into the venue, security passed me through with no pat down, there simply wasn't any place for me to be hiding anything, the corset only cinched my waist, my top was fishnet, no one was about to search my bra even Rave security isn't that brave. People were clearing out of the main room on the first floor and I knew the opening band had finished and everything was getting ready for the main show. I don't know if I ever stopped or if I was just a black and blue bruise blur flying out onto the floor to take it all in and find my place to wait for God to grace us with his gravely voice.

Lights shined down and music played (more like dunraaarrraaarrrrbammbabamamazzrrrraarrrr than ahhhhh ooooo ahhhhhhh) and I saw my perfect spot near the base of a spiraling staircase. It was blocked off from people going up or down, and I could see so clearly because I AM FUCKING TALL IN SIX INCH HEELS MOTHERFUCKERS. It happened so fast, like going down a hill in a car and you feel a whoosh in your stomach that makes it flip and part of you wants to turn around and drive over that hill again because it's worth it to be 5 minutes late to feel that again, Motorhead was there.. the music was all around me and LEMMY was standing, feet planted, mic stand taller than him and pointed down at his face while he shouted up at it as hard and loud as he fucking can.

When I woke up.... no no no kidding. I rocked, I danced, I screamed and sang every word, and then around halfway through the night I saw them. The....cheerleaders. That's what I called them.. I supposed it could of been a lot of things, the Batman to my Joker, the Herpes to my Valtrex, the Poop in my Soup. They were there. Line dancing, beers in hand, making up little cheer dances, clueless to the songs that were being sung, these were clearly someones girlfriends set to "free range roam" so they could enjoy the show in peace. Drunk minivan moms gone wild cheering Lemmy, Get The Fuck Out Of My Way.

They stayed. The cheering and whooping and progressive bumping into me increased, as did my elbow to their backs. This was before cellphones at concerts was a thing (WHICH MEANT IT WAS A FUCKING AWESOME SHOW) and my annoyance grew. Little did I know I had an unlikely savior headed my way, Mr. Drunk Pregnant Man. Oh yeah. A Wisconsin staple. He was rocking and rolling with his not quite a mullet, not quite a comb over, definitely at risk of his water breaking, and he had a beer in each hand. He LOVED the ladies!!! He also was full of whoooooos, and cheers and swaying, OH HOLY FUCK was he swaying. I don't know what was keeping that man on his feet as he wobbled into those girls and back again as they first joked and pushed at him and then got annoyed and I was very amused watching this play out while still rocking and hoping they ALL would go away.

THIS was the moment I realized that LEMMY IS GOD. It was the last song of the night, the encore, and I hear my favorite song start to play "Killed by Death". I said to myself, please get these fuckers out of here so I can enjoy this... please...and I will TRY to be good sometimes...kind of...you know...

That was Mr. Drunk Pregnant Man's moment to shine. His wobbling had all been practice for this, I saw it coming..the beers slip from his hands, the slack look on his face, GO YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD GO, and he went full flop face plant into all three cheerleaders, taking the four to the floor right as I hear, KILLED BY DEATH.. KILLED BY DEATH!!!!

I screamed so hard, so high, so loud, I lost my voice right then. I clapped so hard my hands went numb. Security came by and shuffled them all out because they couldn't get themselves off the floor, while I jumped and shouted KILLED BY DEATH, over and over, with the biggest fuck you smile on my face. It was GLORIOUS. It was magic. It was an act of Lemmy.

Let us bow our heads.

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Pack Lite

Some things you just need to survive, the ESSENTIALS. We all have needs, and everyone's needs differ. I mean sure we all need water,food, but not everyone needs shelter, I have met people who travel all over with packs and just sleep in tents or with tarps and move with the weather and make their own shelters from what they have around them and that is their essential.

Yeah, fuck that? Mmmkay. That isn't my essential list. I need a roof, for ME, essential.

When the end of the world comes, I'll be someplace with a roof. In heels. If it comes on a Wednesday, I'll be wearing pink. Honestly tho when I am packing I can get my essentials for a long weekend into one medium suitcase, a makeup travel case, and my purse. This includes at least 3 shoe changes and two corsets, which are totally fucking necessary. Also several colors of glitter, all my personal care items, makeup, hair styling tools, medicine for me and traveling companions (just take a Zantac honey, you always feel better when you do) and few extra "just in case" items.

I've been missing something really important for years and I never knew it. I've been lacking an essential. It took a drive home from work and my Iheartradio station to point it out to me, and then it became so clear, I have no idea how I missed it all this time and I am thankful, now if something happens and I am about to go NOT quietly into that good night, swallowed up by Cthulhu, finally taken out by zombies, or much more likely, tripping over my fat rabbit on the stairs and falling to my inevitable.. I'll have my essentials.

My epiphany came the way all of them usually do I suppose, with zero thought. I wasn't searching for meaning. I had meaning. I had jessies girl . My new station to train, based on the song that has been posted back and forth between me and one very Tricky lady for eons now and I think always will be, the point will never be moot. What I did NOT know is that there was another gem waiting for me until it moved forward a song, and told me there was an album REQUIRED TO SURVIVE. The Essential Rick Springfield. This isn't packing lite, oh no, this is just fucking packing. It nearly blasted me to life (because I had the volume way too fucking loud from Jessie's Girl) as this came roaring at me and let me know things were forever changed from that moment on. I listened to his wise words, the heart... yes. I hear you Rick. It's much deeper than that, it's .. Essential.


Affair of the Heart

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

About a boy



Everything has changed in my life, as things often do when you neglect a blog for years and let it become a wasteland. My life however has been so full of love, I've made everyone around me sick. Internet, I'm sorry for all that Ebola I caused by falling in love. I have become the cliche you all want to hate, so go ahead and do it, I can take it and gladly will because I won't even notice.

All the relationships I have ever went through, girls, boys, my ex husband, the former fiance, people I longed over as the girl who got away...it was all warm up so I could appreciate this and know I had really found my person.

I spent a year falling in love, talking, laughing, smiling constantly with someone that we both just kept insisting was "a friend" and nothing more, we rarely even saw each other in person. And then we were single, and we were there, in person, and he touched my arm, my hand. That was it, nothing could be the same, he wasn't just my friend. We both knew. There was no reason to wait so we just started to date on April 20, 2014 and on May 7, 2014 we were engaged and on July 11 2014 we were married. Out of every kiss I have ever had in my life, the first one as his wife was the best one I have ever experienced and it will linger on my lips until the day I die; forever grateful to have known such bliss.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Been a long time since I've rock n rolled

It's time to get back to the place where I come from. Maybe the land of "likes" is wearing thin, or my fingers just need stretching. Stories need telling, itches need scratching and I haven't had a good rant and nonsensical ramble in I can't even remember how long but I'm positive that Google thinks I've cleaned up my act by now. I aim to prove it wrong. Let me get back baby, open your arms dear internet because this bitch is gonna do a trust fall and I've got a feeling it's going to be a long one once I start. Jessica is back baby, and she brought her whip.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

My ridiculous obsession with.....

What is happiness? Can I spray myself with it? Will it come in an extra special bottle, beveled glass, 49.99$ at the makeup counter in a glossy box and make everyone want to stand a little closer to me? When I toss my hair a certain way and it shines and smells just right, will a halo form around me and lift me to a lighted place where a warm glow will fill me with this special word, magically taking away cold and fear and misery replacing it with what everyone seems to lust for?

Or will I walk past it by mistake just trying to go forward each day and move from the situation I am in now, where that word doesn't exist, and miss it because I had my head down, step step step, getting to the next spot in my day..convinced this was the way to finding that elusive ingredient I needed to make "happy."

I am so much better with the sweary words.

Friday, September 20, 2013

'Cause I'm feeling so much older

When you can't go back, and you know...but there are still parts of you left behind you need to pick up and put into these cracks. They aren't so tiny anymore, step on one, break your mothers back, jump over and hop to the next piece of pavement, keep striding forward in those so high heels...with that perfect balance (all just a lie learned on a stage my its convincing under the right lighting) and no one will see you bobble.

There is some video of me taken in 30 second shots, dark and grainy, tinted slightly green, where I'm dancing in my living room, stripping off a nightie and I used to post it here now and then for a few minutes and then take it down, just a tease. I sent it to a few people. In a great purge of blog and files when I thought everything written had been exposed to places I didn't want it to go I hid it away and now it's just gone. I'd give anything to have those snippets back. To know they were real and that time existed.

So many things lost in the fire, but not a single flame ever seen. The great clearance sale of my soul. Can I blame it all on the mental illness? The missing pieces, seeing someone else living my life but are they doing it better than I did?

I need my bits, its all got to come home and complete circle even though I am going round, round, round. Its not symmetrical, its looping out of sync,not even wearing marks into the floor in these gaping wide arcs and hoops. My things are mine. I need them, its up to me where they go and how to put it right for me even knowing it will never be right and I will always be waiting for a missing piece.

I own an all black puzzle and someone asked me once, whats the point? You can always just jam any part in and make it look like it fit. I suppose you could I replied, but when I run my hands along it, finished and whole, I will feel that piece and all the other pieces its made to stick out. When I run my hands over that smooth inky black puzzle, it shines up at me and it feels perfect with every little notch linked together. I see myself reflected in it, all dark hair and pale face,and it calms me. I need my puzzle, I am that puzzle. I want to go back, but I cant, and I know, so give me back the parts. Let me put my puzzle back together my own.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

whOreo

I never know what I will write until i get here. I dont write blogs anymore the way i used to, im no poet, wordsmith, writer of talent.. No passer by will mistake me for a "craftsman of my trade'.

Lets be honest here.. blunt really. i'm on a piece of crap lap top that is missing tiles and jumps backwards when I dont ask and gobbles up what i have typed out so fast there is no point in proofreading because it makes me want to pull out my hair

But it was FREE.


I have met the computer equivalent of myself. Minus the vibrating tongue bar. I had to type that 5 times. I really wanted to say tongue.

Is there a point here? A story? A process to my word spunk, the brain spoodge exploding onto my computer screen? Always. Just not always for mass consumption but really take what you will from this if you are still reading.

Some of us will do anything for any Oreo and some of us will do anything to get you that Oreo. And that is exactly how I met this lap top and can talk to you, or myself, tonight.

Its a life lesson. A read between the lines one, to be sure.


But thats the great thing about Oreos, you can take them apart and read them right in the middle.