All I Want for Christmas is...

... not you.

I kid, I kid! But really. If you show up at my front door without additional offerings I'm not letting you in.

And don't give me that "well, you haven't been all that good this year" bull shit. Santa and his lump of coal system can kiss my ass. I firmly believe that if that snotty little brat who almost broke my knee cap running around Wal Mart this weekend is getting Christmas, then damnit, so am I!

So what if I curse and lie? So what if I drink my face off every other weekend? So what if I'm a naughty girl? So what if that last remark has a secondary, more perverted meaning? I want presents! And this is what I want...

Pink Floyd 'Dark Side of the Moon' Edition Chuck Taylors

Personally, I think Chuck Taylors are the coolest effin shoes you can buy. I personally own four pairs (high top tri-pink, low top pink, low top black, and one low top pair with unicorns on the heal). Pink Floyd also happens to be one of my top three favorite bands of all time (check blog title... bonus points to the one who can name the song title.) Therefore, these shoes get me all antsy in my pantsy!

Pug Puppy!

Considering everyone I know out here in Fargo works for a baseball/softball team and there is a grand total of one half of a home game for either sport every season because of the absurd amount of snow we get I will be all alone from the months of February to April writing run-on sentences. I really need something to keep me company... I wanted to get a cat just because they are easier to take care of, but this puppy is just too adorable for me not to want him.

Pink Blackberry Curve

Check! Got this little baby yesterday! I just wanted to be one of the cool kids. I also wanted to be permanently hooked to the internet. And I like pink. This is the lamest explanation for a gift I will give.

Spring Awakening Show Tickets

So, I'm not normally a big musical kind of girl. Sure, I love listening to the soundtracks and watching the big-screen versions of them. But this one, I want to see on stage soooooo bad! One of my old roommates from college introduced me to the soundtrack and I absolutely fell in love. The show is on tour and will be in Minneapolis late January through February. Who wants to nerd it up with me?!

Clone High Season on DVD

If any of you remember this show you need to come find me now because I want to kiss you. This will forever and always be my favorite animated show. I used to have the entire one season the show ran on my laptop. Then, as the technological gods would have it, the laptop went kaput and all my files went AWOL. I could try to download them all again... but having the DVD would just prove how much of a fan I am.


That's my list! What's on yours?

***

On a side note... I am going to start up a secondary blog. I used to write a lot of short stories, poetry, drabbles, and the like when I thought I was going to grow up to be a writer and I feel like they deserve to be let out of their ruled notebook prisons. I need to come up with a name for it and so far all I'm got is either "Crazy Diamond" or "Nothing Rhymes with Orange".

Do you guys have any suggestions?

Tattoos-Day : A New Chapter

Ink #11: Good Fortune

Design: Dragon Fly

Location: Right Inside Ankle

When: Summer 2009

Pain Scale: Eight out of ten

Artist: Joey Drada

Story:

Sad day… this is the last Tattoos-day :-( However! If you, or anyone you know, is interested in featuring their own ink for a Tattoos-day, shoot me an e-mail at jeney dot anderson at gmail dot com.

I got this one right before I left for Fargo. I wanted to say goodbye to Joey and Mr. Max – and I wanted to get something to represent the newest chapter in my life. Moving to Fargo was one of the biggest transformations of my life. I moved away from family, friends, and everything I knew. As much as it scared the piss out of me, I knew it would be for the best.

There’s a story about Dragonflies that goes something like this:

In a little pond, in the muddy water under the lily pads, there lived a little water beetle in a community of water beetles. They lived a simple and comfortable life in the pond with few disturbances and interruptions.

Once in a while, sadness would come to the community when one of their fellow beetles would climb the stem of a lily pad and would never be seen again. They knew when this happened; their friend was dead, gone forever. Then, one day, one little water beetle felt an irresistible urge to climb up that stem. However, he was determined that he would not leave forever. He would come back and tell his friends what he had found at the top.

When he reached the top and climbed out of the water onto the surface of the lily pad, he was so tired, and the sun felt so warm, that he decided he must take a nap. As he slept, his body changed and when he woke up, he had turned into a beautiful blue tailed dragonfly with broad wings and a slender body designed for flying. So, fly he did! And, as he soared he saw the beauty of a whole new world and a far superior way of life to what he had never known existed. Then he remembered his beetle friends and how they were thinking by now he was dead. He wanted to go back to tell them, and explain to them that he was now more alive than he had ever been before. His life had been fulfilled rather than ended. But, his new body would not go down into the water. He could not get back to tell his friends the good news. Then he understood that their time would come, when they, too, would know what he now knew. So, he raised his wings and flew off into his joyous new life!

Moving to Fargo was my lily pad. And although I may not be able to go back to my old life, I know it is all for the better.

Fin.

Tattoos-Day : Live it Up

Ink #10: Just Live Your Life

Design: The text “Live Hard, Rock On” with a faded star

Location: Left Outside Hip/Buttocks

When: Summer 2009

Pain Scale: Six out of Ten

Artist: Mr. Max

Story:

I had been tossing the idea for this one around in my head for a while before I got it. It wasn’t until my friend Biz got into a horrible car accident that I finally decided exactly what I wanted.

Biz is a beautiful, talented, wonderful person. She was always the girl I could go to for anything – and I mean anything. I have a lot of good friends that would do anything for me, but none of them would understand half the crazy shit I went to Biz for.

I am a huge fan of the quote, “Don’t take life too seriously. You’ll never get out alive.” It’s such a true statement it’s almost laughable. I like to think I was living my life to the fullest, but it wasn’t until Biz was on the brink of death that I realized how much I worried about trivial, stupid things. You’ve just got to live your life hard and rock the fuck on!

She told me she wanted to get the star constellation for Gemini on her outside hip. I didn’t want to take her thunder away from her; because she will get better and she will get that tattoo. But that is the reason for the star and the placement of this one.

What happens in Vegas ends up on my blog.

I have been to Vegas once in my life. Only once. When I say I lived like a rock star when I was there, I’m not exaggerating in any way, shape or form. I honestly only spent a total of $200 the entire weekend and that included parking my car in the South Bend airport, a cab to the house I was staying at, gambling, and a ticket to see Bette Midler*.

Rock. Star. Bitches.

Let me explain…

My junior year of college, my good friend Glamour** was dating a fella who played poker. A lot. And he was good at it. He owned a Beemer to prove so. He happened to be playing in the World Series of Poker that summer and we both decided to use him as an excuse to get stupid drunk on the strip for a weekend be the good friends that we were and go cheer him on.

When I arrived at the Las Vegas Airport I was greeted with 100+ degree weather, slot machines, and billboards with half naked women on them. I was in absolute heaven. I cabbed it to the house I was staying at, which turned out to be Rock Star Moment #1.

This house was easily worth $2mil. Easy. It had eleven bedrooms, thirteen baths, a theater of Lazy Boy recliners in the basement, “guesthouse” with retractable walls, and one of those crazy waterfall pools with a tiki-bar hot tub attached. Their broom closet was bigger than my bedroom, for Pete's sake! There were twelve guys renting the house for the summer – all of which were playing in the WSP.

After a quick tour, I slipped on a sexy little number and all twenty of us jumped into a Hummer Limo (which the guys paid for) and went to dinner at N9NE in the Palms. Cue Rock Star Moment #2.

We all ate a fantastic dinner off a menu in which nothing was within my vacation budget (I got the filet mignon). When the bill came, all the guys threw their credit cards into the middle of the table. One girl would pick up the cards, chose a number, and count out then out. That guy's card she counted to? He got his card back. Said girl would then pass the cards onto the next one at the table. The last card standing paid for dinner.

The most nauseating thing about this? That several grand bill was pocket change to these guys.

After getting good and sloshed buzzed at dinner, we went to a club called Tryst. Holy sweet baby Jesus in a hand basket.

There is a waterfall in the middle of this club people. Did you read that? A WATERFALL. And beautiful people EVERYWHERE. We had table service with about seven bottles of Grey Goose, every mixer imaginable, and a big breasted, half dressed woman pouring our drinks into actual glasses (not cheap plastic cups) all night long. Did I mention the guys paid for our cover, table, and liquor as well? (Ahem… Rock Star Moment #3.)

That was all on the first night. So much more happened that weekend, but this post is already entirely too long. Just take comfort in knowing that I spent the Fourth of July nursing a hangover via hair of the dog from the tiki-bar hot tub and eventually made out with one of the guys under a waterfall in the pool.

I win.

*STFU. That show rocked my pants off.

**Changing her name for anonymity purposes. Duh.

Tattoos-Day : Acceptance

Ink #9: My Brother

Design: Hollow rainbow heart, purple awareness ribbon, and “Smyles” written underneath it

Location: Left Lower Back (A cockeyed tramp stamp?)

When: Winter 2008 – It was a Christmas gift from me

Pain Scale: Four out of ten

Artist: Joey Drada

Story:

As I mentioned last week, my brother is “one of the gays.” When he first told the crazies that is our family, our Dad flipped, our Mom denied it, and our other brother was stoned. I was the only one who applauded him. (This meant I had a shopping and Grey’s Anatomy buddy! Huzzah!)

It took a while for my family to accept him. My mother pulled the hypocritical role and wouldn’t allow him to have his boyfriends over when she allowed my youngest to have his twat-face of a girlfriend actually live with us. My dad decided to take the “Parenting 101” role and was convinced he would grow out if it.

To show them they were all being absolute fuck-os and to show my brother that at least one person in the family accepts him and loves him for the person that he simply is, I got this awareness heart done. As for “Smyles”… His first name is Lucas and his middle name is Myles. So growing up he would run his name together and legitimately thought his middle name was “Smiles”.

He’s queer. He’s here. And damnit, I’m proud of him.

Tattoos-Day : Thicker than Water

Ink #8: Family

Design: Five Shooting Stars from bra-line to panty-line

Location: Right Ribcage

When: Summer ’08 – After Graduation

Pain Scale: Nine out of ten

Artist: Joey Drada

Story:

This piece is the largest piece on my body and I plan on expanding on it. There are five shooting stars and each one represents a member of my family. Each star has the initials of the person inside and I chose their colors as I see each of them.

Blue is for my Mom because she is always strong and true – like the sea and the sky.

Orange is for my Dad because he can always find a way to laugh at a situation, no matter how grim or upsetting it may be.

Pink is for me… because I like pink.

Purple is for the older of my two brothers because he had recently come out of the closet and this was my very small way of showing him I support him (I did a larger one later… you’ll see that next week).

Green is for my youngest brother because no matter how old he gets, he will always be that little snot of a twelve year old in my head.

When I have children, I plan on adding moons with their initials into the design.

Tattoos-day: Too Bad I Wasn't on TV...

Ink #7: What’s your sign?

Design: Libra symbol with Roman numeral tens on either side

Location: Left Wrist

When: January, 2008, Senior Year of College

Pain Scale: Two out of Ten

Artist: Miami Ink Artist

Story:

I got this tattoo while I was a manager for the Notre Dame Swim and Dive team. We went to Miami for our training trip and a few of the girls talked me into going to the famed Miami Ink to get a tattoo. It is, to this day, the smallest and most expensive ink on my body.

Although I do not live and die by astrology and zodiac superstitions, I do take pride in the fact that I am a typical Libra. I thrive on balance in my life. I am sociable, self-indulgent, easy going, diplomatic, and ever-changing. I also just need to say that Libras are the only inanimate of the zodiac. (AKA – we’re all badasses)

I also happen to have been born in the best month ever, Rock-tober, on the best day ever, the tenth. Hence I have the ultimate Libran birth date, 10/10. Couldn’t ask for more balance than that! So on either side of my balanced symbol, I have my balanced birth date.

Tattoos-day: In Joy and Sorrow

Ink #6: Both Sides of the Force

Design: Heartagram

Location: Left Ribcage

When: Summer before senior year of college

Pain Scale: Eight out of ten

Artist: Jason Woolley

Story:

If any of you saw this and immediately thought, “OMGZ! Bam Margera! Ahhh!!!111! one!!” you can take my blog off your reader because you are dead to me.

One of my all-time favorite bands is one called HIM. They are from Finland and have a style they like to call ‘love metal’; which the lead singer, Ville Valo, describes as “being fist-fucked with a velvet glove.” (He’s so eloquent…)

Anywho, this is the official symbol of the band. According to Wikipedia:

• “ The heartagram is the trademarked symbol of HIM, created by Ville Valo the day of his twentieth birthday. Valo has said that ‘the heartagram stands for HIM as a band, as an entity, and for 'love metal' in general.’ … Ville Valo has allowed his close friend, Jackass star, actor, and professional skateboarder, Bam Margera to share the license on the heartagram image and Margera has accordingly used it for his promotional purposes, including using it on his Adio shoes and Element skateboards. Because of the shared license, the symbol is often thought to belong solely to Margera.”

The symbol itself is like a new-age Ying and Yang. The pentagram is evil, pain, suffering, hate, etc. The heart is good, pleasure, love, etc. Just like Ying and Yang, it is a symbol of balance.
Being a libra, I love balance. Being a huge HIM fan, I love this symbol.

But being a purist, I effin’ hate the term ‘Bamagram’.

Tattoos-day: Like Mother, Like Daughter

Note: I just now thought I should probably put a pain scale on these things...

***

Ink #5: Bonding with my Mama

Design: Blue shooting star with orange/yellow tail

Location: Right Foot

When: Summer before junior year of college

Pain Scale: Seven out of ten

Artist: Joey Drada

Story:

My mother and I got this one done by good ol’ Joey Drada at Prairie Tattoo. Mommy-daughter matching tattoos, yay!

This one is actually really simple to explain. As much as we butt heads and argue, my mom and I are really close. We tend to look to each other for direction in life; we think of the other as our own “North Star”. Hence the shooting stars.

We got the ink on our right feet so we could always help each other “put our best foot forward” even when the other isn’t there.

So whenever life gets tough, we look to our shooting starts to help us get through it.

That’s it -- plain and simple. :-)

Tattoos-day : For my Grandpa

One thing before I get into this... Do you remember my first TMIT? You can see the wound in this picture. Enjoy!

***
Ink #3; The Most Important Man in my Life Design: Green shaded celtic knot with block lettered "Grizzly" underneath.

Location: Left Outside Ankle

When: Sophomore Year of College

Artist: Jason Woolley

The Story:

This one was done shortly after my 19th birthday. I had it done at a small shop by a guy named Jason Woolley aka “The Big, Burly Guy” at Point Blank Tattoo in South Bend, In. I had originally wanted the text to be script, but Jason forgot to include the text at all in teh stencil. Still quite the inking noob, I figured this was normal. He had to improvise with the font, but I think it turned out just fine. :-)

“Grizzly” was my grandfather’s CB name when he drove trucks. He is by far one the most influential and special people in my life. I can honestly say that man in my hero.

He served in the US Army during the Korean War where he played football. He was recruited to play professional football. When he went to the try-out he blew out his knees and never played again. He has had a slew of medical problems including open heart surgery, knee replacements, staph infection in said knee replacements, diabetes, high blood pressure, depression, blood clots, a broken hip, among many others. And he’s still alive and kickin’ at seventy eight years old. That’s what the celtic knot is for – he is eternal and endless to me.

See the slice!? And the band-aid mark!?

The Gospel of JP

This is a fake post.... because the real post is over down yonder at The Gospel of JP.

Check me out on Foxy Fridays! ;-)

Tattoos-day!

I have wanted to write about my ever-growing collection of ink since I started this little blog of mine because, let’s face it, that’s a lot of material I don’t have to think up and glamour to make my little life sound interesting.

So now I present to you, Tattoos-days! For the next eleven weeks (that’s damn near three months, people) I will show you one piece of art that proves I am, in fact, a badass.

You should feel privileged, really. Usually this becomes a game of “what stupid shit can Jeney get this person to do to see her tattoos?"

***

Ink #1; The Tramp Stamp

Design: Soccer ball surrounded by pink flower petals

Location: Center, Lower back

When: 18th Birthday present

Artist: Mr. Max

The Story:

I would like to preface this by informing you that when I did get this done, "Tramp Stamp" was not at all a coined term. So shove it.

When I turned 18, my mother took me to get my first tattoo as a birthday present. This was it. A great artist by the name of Mr. Max had the honor of popping my tattoo cherry. He did one other piece of mine and has done all of Little Shit’s and a few of my moms. He works out of Prairie Tattoo in Chicago Heights, Il.

As for the design, I actually was a grass fairy from the time I was six until I failed at trying out for my collegiate team. Although I did not play for as long as I would have liked, I still love the game and I always will. In fact, I thoroughly intend on forcing my kids to play so I can be an SUV driving soccer mom.

As for the flower part, I was inspired to do this by one of my old camp coaches. She had a similar tattoo on her ankle, but the petals were yellow. I like pink better. Simple as that.

Please excuse the poor quality. I had to take these pictures myself using ninja-like skill and a mirror.

Vic, Clint, and Trixie

I’m baaa-aack!

And I have absolutely nothing a few things to report on.

First, I have decided to start my own business.

While catching up on the vampire porn that is True Blood this weekend, my roommate Vic, my friend Clint*, and myself were floored by the advertisements for Hung. For those of you who are not blessed enough to have HBO, Hung is a new series about a man who is down on his luck and decides to take advantage of his best “asset” and become a male whore (or “escort” if you want to be classy about it).

This, of course, let to a conversation about solicitation of sexual favors and talents that later veered into negotiations of my own escort service, Madame Trixie’s Escorts. (I mean, what else are we going to talk about while watching hot vamp sex and being teased about a man with a gargantuous penis?)

Currently our running rate is $500 a night. Clint and Vic are open to any role-playing or crazy fantasy – although waivers must be signed if it gets too kinky.

Secondly, I ran my 10k this weekend.

I finished in an hour, which averages out to about a nine-minute mile. I am extremely proud of myself, but in a world of pain. I feel like Vin Diesel railed me all weekend.

Now I can start training for my half-marathon. I am expecting that soreness to equate to being gang-banged by the Chicago Bears defensive line.

Lastly, we bought a pet this weekend.

He is a red Beta. He lives in an empty Patron bottle. His name is Paco. Be jealous.

* Names have been changed to protect those who have dignity left.

Bow down, bitches!

Once upon a time, a wonderful and beautiful blogger named Blondie was typing away in Qwerty-ville (a providence of the Land of Blog) when a Tweet-Fairy named Iva bestowed her with the Queen Awe-summ Crown.

Now, this honor is not something to be taken lightly. In order to keep her crown, Blondie had to list 7 Awe-summ things about herself as well as pass her crown onto seven other Awe-summ ladies in the Land of Blog. I happen to be one of them.

So without further ado, I give you seven Awe-summ things about Queen Jeney:

One. I have nine tattoos. You have to admit that’s just freakin’ bad-ass no matter who you are.

Deux. I went to an all women’s college. I am not putting down co-ed universities at all (to each his own) – but I have to say being a graduate with an education from an all women’s institution makes me awe-summ.

Tres. I am my mother’s daughter. ‘Nuff said.

Quad. I am a loyal and devoted friend. I will drop everything I am doing no matter what time of day it is to help a friend in need. This includes but is not limited to: taking you to the emergency room on my bicycle, letting you cry on my clean sheets about your douche-face ex boyfriend, picking your drunk ass up from the skeezy bar you passed out in, and helping you bury the body.

Golden Rings. I live with two boys. See #Deux and you’ll understand why this makes me Awe-summ.

Sex. I run for fun. Have you ever raced in a 5k? Trained for a 10k? Decided to run a half-marathon? It’s damn right difficult.

Se7en. I’m me.

Thank you! Thank you! You all may have a seat now. As apart of my duties as Queen Jeney, I hereby appoint the following lovely ladies as Queens of Awe-summ.

Just a Girl @ Mind Your Business

Jen Kuscak @ Welcome to the Jungle

Amy @ Rainy Saturday

Jennifer Alaine @ you'll grow to love me

Dani @ Daily Dose of Dani

Heather @ It is here for all to see

(Ok -- So I've only got six. Don't have a coup over it.)

I order all of you to go read their blogs. Immediately. With how Awe-summ I am you can only imagine how Ama-ziing these girls are!

I Got Bourbon Faced on Shit Street

I would like to preface this post by making it perfectly clear that I am in no way shape or form a jersey chaser. I cannot stand dating or having any sort of romantic/physical relationship with them. I have tried it in the past only want to stick something sharp and metal into both my eyes. (I would, however, not be opposed to being a groupie “Band-Aid”.)

A not so long, long time ago in a world not exactly all that far, far away I used to be a college student. During this portion of my life, I happened to be a student manager for the athletic program for my alma mater’s brother school.

Now, their student manager program is roughly the equivalent of slave labor for Sri Lankan sweatshops. We worked preposterously long hours, rarely ever ate or slept, did not get paid, all the while striving to keep our grades up to avoid becoming academically ineligible. You may be asking, “Why on God’s green earth would you willing participate in such a scam?!” Well, we did receive tuition and book assistance, traveled with our teams, and had experiences no one else has had. Manager parties were also the sniznit. (Seriously – Lacrosse House and Hockey House had nothing on us.)

My junior year I was a manager for the football program. As a reward for being an outstanding coach’s bitch manager, I was granted the honor of traveling with the team to their bowl game in New Orleans, LA. Now, three things were certain about this trip:

1) The J.W. Marriot we were put up in was approximately one block away from
Bourbon Street.
2) We were each handed $600 in per diem when we got there.
3) There was a Wendy’s and a McDonald’s with 99 cent and dollar menus within
walking distance of the hotel.

Do you really need me to tell you where the majority of our combined $7,200 went?

While the whole trip was an absolute shit-show, I want to highlight one particular evening we spent on Rue de Bourbon -- January 3rd, 2007.

This splendid night in January happened to also be the night of the game. You know – the thing we actually traveled to New Orleans for? After our boys bent over and took it from the opposing team for sixty minutes of pure ass-whopage, us managers felt it would only be appropriate to get good and schmackered on Bourbon Street.

And good and schmackered we got.

In time, and God only knows how, my ‘wifey’ Slawless and I were separated from the other nineteen people we were with. Things were very hazy for me at this point, but I do remember us being at a skeezy dance club with the heavy hitters from the team. We apparently danced with one player in particular – we’ll call him Prince Eric -- for quite some time before taking refuge on a nearby (possibly disease infested) couch.

(This is where any semblance of dignity I had not lost in the previous three years of college goes right out the window.)

While attempting to reduce my vision to only two of everything, Slawess observes a random skank – we’ll call her Skanky McRando -- giving Prince Eric a lap dance.

Slawless exclaims her disgust: “Ugh! I know her! She’s such a slut.”

To which my outstanding and resounding reply was, “Fuck that.”

I proceed to sway up, catch my balance, shove Skanky McRando off of Prince Eric’s lap, and carry on giving him one of my own drunken erotic boogies. (Apparently it is unacceptable if Skanky McRando simulates sexual moves on our players – but it is perfectly fine if I do.)

I wish I could tell you how the dance went. Or how we ended up at a strip club at 4:00am. Or how I got back to my hotel room. But I blacked out promptly after, “Fuck that.”

Slawless and I didn’t get back to the hotel until 7:00am. I guess most of the other dozen managers were leaving to catch their flights at this time. Thank all that is good and holy my flight wasn’t until 3:00pm.

I did not sober up until I landed in Milwaukee that evening at 5:00pm.

Prince Eric was drafted that year to the Cleveland Browns. Mother was horrified. Father was proud.

Incase you were wondering, yes, photographic evidence was taken. If you want to see them you must give me your first-born child, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and your e-mail address (or just your e-mail address).

The Veer Union - Concert Review

Most girls who grew up in the 90s opened up gifts of Barbie Dolls and Polly Pockets on their eleventh birthday. Me? I got tickets to the Smashing Pumpkins' Infinite Sadness Tour where I gave myself whiplash, lost my voice, and wore my concert t-shirt out to nothing but a clump of moth-eaten cotton. Since that fateful day in October of 1996, I have been tagging along with my parents to concerts all over the great Midwest. And let me tell you I have seen some of the greatest bands and shows out there:

I watched Disturbed open for a festival in Chicago one year, then headline it they very next.

I saw A Perfect Circle open for Nine Inch Nails when I was a sophomore in high school.

I’ve seen Staind more times that I can count on one hand.

I cried as the Smashing Pumpkins said goodbye to music in December of 2000.

And I rocked my little heart out to the Rock and Roll Hall of Famers Metallica when I was in middle school.

ZZ Top, Black Sabbath, Korn, Gravity Kills, Marilyn Manson, Slipknot, Blue Oyster Cult, Papa Roach, Kill Hannah… the list goes on and on.

This said – I have never been more impressed with the style and talent of a new and upcoming band than I was last night.

The Veer Union is a rock-hard alternative band hailing from Vancouver, Canada. Last night was their first visit to the great state of Indiana and they did not disappoint (although I pray the dismal bar scene out here didn’t fail them…) The band opened their set with engaging the crowd in a rousing cry of, “Where’s Crispin?!” as their lead man was M.I.A. for about five minutes – hopefully lost in a bottle of alcohol or a woman’s breasts somewhere.

Now, I’ve been exposed to some pretty shitty opening acts. I’m always a bit apprehensive when they start. But this band roundhouse kicked me in my eardrum from the very first guitar riff and absolutely rocked my pants (and socks, and shirt, and underwear for that matter) off with each and every song they played. With Crispin’s melodic but powerful vocals, Neil’s hard-hitting rhythm on the kit, and Eric, Fid, and Roots’ dominating use of their stringed appendages had me swept into a frenzy for their entire set.

At the risk of losing my place in the crowd, I fled to their merch table to buy a CD immediately after their last song. I had the pleasure of meeting the band as well and they are just as amazing as the music they play.

Their debut album, Against the Grain, comes out on April 21st. (Go buy it. Seriously. I’ll block you from my blog if you don’t.) You can also follow them on Twitter, friend them on Myspace, stalk them on Facebook, or just go to their website and creep around.

My ears are still ringing, my hearing is muffled, and my body is in a whole new world of hurt from last night – but it was so worth it.

Oh, yeah. Theory of a Deadman and Black Stone Cherry were pretty good, too.

Hate my Life

"I hate my job, all of my rich friends
I hate everyone to the bitter end.
Nothing turns out right There's no end in sight
I hate my life!" - Theory of a Deadman, Hate My Life

There is this little band from British Columbia called Theory of a Deadman. Besides the fact that they rock my pants off, they also happen to sing the current anthem to my life…

I apologize for the terrible quality of this video.

Let's be completely unneccessary and explain each verse and how it applies to my life, shall we? (It's not like you have anything better to do right now. I mean, come on, you're actually reading my blog.)

***

"So sick of the hobos always begging for change

I don't like how I gotta work

And they just sit around and get paid"

I have nothing against homeless people – but it does make me angry to know that some people on unemployment are making more money than I do. Seriously? I work far too hard for you people to make more money than me. Especially when part of my tiny paycheck actually goes to them.

***

"I hate all of the people who can't drive their cars

Bitch you better get outta the way

Before I start falling apart"

This verse has actually caused family and friends to go into fits of giggles. I am the angriest driver you will ever meet. I scream, curse, and express my frustration to stupid people on the road on a daily basis. I may get shot for it someday. My whole day is typically ruined because of idiot Hoosiers who don’t know how to turn right without coming to a complete stop. Or don’t understand the concept of a two lane road. Or those fuck-wads who drive 10 miles UNDER the posted speed limit! (Alright, I'm done.)

***

"I hate how my wife is always up my ass

She always wants to buy brand new things

But I don't have the cash."

This is more so applying to me rather than a significant other. I want nice things. I don’t have the cash to buy them for myself… or a sugar daddy to buy them for me.

***

"How come I never get laid? Nice guys always lose

How could she have another headache

There's always some kind of excuse"

I shouldn’t have to explain this verse.

***

"I still hate my job, my boss is a dick

I don't get paid nearly enough

To put up with all of your shit"

I don’t really hate my job much or my boss. I do get frustrated and overly stressed out about it a lot. I really shouldn’t complain anyway; I should be grateful that I have a job. I just wish I made more money sometimes. But then I remember that I should be grateful that I’m actually making money. Then I remember some of it goes to unemployed people who make more money than I do. Le Sigh.

***

"I hate that I can't tell when a girl's underage

You know, I tell her she's a nice piece of ass

Then her daddy punches me in the face"

Ok. So this doesn’t really apply to me at all. However – my dating life does chronically suck. I didn’t hate time to date in college and the last few guys I attempted to date since college:

1) The first one blew me off and stopped calling me for absolutely no reason after having (what I thought was) a fantastic first date.
2) The second one revealed to me he was an ex-heroine addict, may have had three illegitimate children, and never graduated high school.
3) The most recent one was the typical asshole that He’s Just Not That Into warns you to stay away from. And of course, I didn’t.

***
I really know how to pick winners. Or there is something seriously wrong with me…

***

"So if you're pissed like me

Bitches, here's what you gotta do

Put your middle fingers up in the air

Go on and say 'Fuck you!'"

***

Yeah! Fuck you!

I'm Just Sayin' Wednesday - Barbie

So Barbie turned 50 this month. Good for her.

I took a Theory of Female Beauty course when I was in undergrad and we, of course, had a huge section on the phenomenon that is Barbie. If you ever have a chance, you should check out Barbie's Queer Accessories by Erica Rand. It is quite the read.

The one thing I always found interesting about Barbie was that she could be anybody, but only if Mattel approved of that anybody. You can buy Doctor Barbie, Lawyer Barbie, Beach Barbie, Wedding Barbie, and the list goes on. But you will never, ever see Garbage Collector Barbie, Prostitute Barbie, Octo-Mom Barbie... this list goes on even further. I guess Barbie really can’t be anything she wants to be.

One of our assignments for my Female Beauty class was to “Modify a Barbie doll.” Seriously. That’s all the assignment said. So the class went to work. At the end of it all, we had two different Dr. 90210 Barbies; Before and After. We had Homeless Barbie and Nursing Home Barbie. There was “Druggie Debbie” who came complete with a condom and powdery substances in her purse. We even had Kendra, the drag queen. It was a fantastic assignment and a real eye opener.

Personally, I created Body Art Barbie. She has so many tattoos and piercings you can’t decide whether to run away or stare at her. She is the ultimate symbol of female rebellion.

I think our Barbies are way better than Mattel's.

I’m just sayin’.

Top 5 Life-Altering Songs

In honor of my Indie Channel on Comcast having a recent love affair with the movie High Fidelity – I have decided to list the top 5 songs that have changed my life’s course (up to this point). In chronological order:

1) Smashing Pumpkins - Bullet with Butterfly Wings

This band and this song are full of firsts for me. This song is actually the
first one I remember being my “favorite.” The Infinite Sadness Tour was the
first concert I ever went to (11th Birthday present from the ‘Rents.) The
t-shirt I got at the concert is the first one I ever wore out to nothing but a
distorted lump of fabric. This song was the catalyst for my love of music and
live shows.

2) Hanson - MMMBop

Stop laughing. I was not above going though that awkward, teeny-bopper, boy
-band loving stage of life. This song defines that stage of my life. To this day
I still turn the volume up to max when this song come on my iPod or the radio.
Don’t deny it, you sing along too…

3) Metallica – One

By far the BEST freakin’ song and video out there. Hands-down. Don’t argue with
me. This classic brought me back to my rock and roll roots. I was actually
raised on the likes of Metallica, Queensryche, Pink Floyd, and
other bands a ten year old should probably not be exposed to. When I went
through what my father likes to call my “rebellious phase” with boy-bands, he
was elated when I started listening to rock and alternative again.
(Something seems bass-ackwards about that…)

4) KoRn - Falling Away From Me

While I do have to give credit to “No Place to Hide” for
starting my obsession with this band, this song is the one closest to my heart.
When this song was released, I was at a very difficult point in my life. This
song brought me out of it. I can honestly tell you if it wasn’t for this song, I
wouldn’t be writing this right now. (Okay… enough pity party.)

5) H.I.M. – Rip out the Wings of a Butterfly

(I did not notice until right now I came full-circle with the butterfly
thing…) This may not be the best or the most definable song by H.I.M., but it is
the first song I ever heard by them. It kind of helped me grow out of my
Slipknot/Mudvayne phase and start begin to appreciate more melodic and “calmer”
rock music - which is my current drug of choice.

Kid in a toy isle...

I was perusing through the toy section of my local big-box store when I discovered what quite possibly might be the most exciting, enthralling, and AMAZING toy invented. Ever.

Yes… it is better than a Wii.

Yes… it totally trumps an Easy-Bake Oven.

Psh… don’t even try comparing it to a Giga Pet because I’ll slap you.

It is… ready for this? A glittery bouncy ball. Now before you roll your eyes at me and mumble about childish bullshit (I know you were thinking about it) you have to hear me out. This is no ordinary glitter bouncy ball.

This ball is filled with water and the glitter settles at the bottom of the ball when it is not in use. When you bounce, toss, or roll it the stationary glitter magically comes to life in mystical swirls, bursts, and patterns! I swear it is the coolest thing you will ever lay eyes upon.

That’s not all, ladies and gentlemen! I found out today it also doubles as a stress reliever. I had a particularly shitty morning today involving a postponed meeting and after rolling my magic glitter ball around for about twenty seconds, I felt infinitely better! There is just something about manufactured shiny things that brighten up your mood.

I suggest you purchase one of these like, yesterday. You will be missing out on an integral life opportunity if you pass this up!