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Archive for December, 2002

 
|| December 6, 2002 || 12:02 am || Comments (4) ||

Maxim is breaking a cardinal rule in our home: Thou shalt not purchase any gifty things for self after October. All week a steady stream of packages have been arriving in our mailbox. I have been put on notice that I am to tamper with none of them, NONE OF THEM whatsoever. Come to find out, a good percentage of them are various Morphine CDs and paraphenalia. I turned him on to Morphine about three years back with the album ‘The Night’. It was the last one recorded before Mark Sandman, smooooov singer extraordinaire, died on stage.

That’s right. Died on stage. Heart went kaput in the midst of a show overseas. Sexy in a rock-lore kind of way.

So, shame on Maxim!

And, speaking of buying things, I have a few of my cigar box purses listed to sell because I am Po White Trash, but I am Po White Trash Wit Aspirations (read: broke and in a Christmas panic. Literally.). Here are a couple for your perusal,

and you can find several more (with big ole pop-up pictures, yay!) here, along with information about buying one for your own little self. Or better yet, two: one for your own little self and another somebody who appreciates the truly hip and bitchin’.

Starving artist selling out. Run roughshod through the goods, purchasing willy-nilly!

 
|| December 4, 2002 || 11:28 am || Comments (6) ||

Every time I listen to the new Foo Fighters song I feel all dirty, because they’re so obviously copping a feel on the Violent Femmes and I shouldn’t be watching.

Or, at the very least, I should not be paying attention. I’m sorry, Gordon Gano! and Dave Grohl is, too….

That Taylor What’shisfuckingname, though? He don’t give a fuck.

Speaking of Mister Grohl, I never realized just what a little d00d he is until I saw him here in Birmingham. Maybe I was just so fucked up on various chemicals during previous viewings that it just didn’t register, but I got to eyeball him good and tight a couple years ago, and boy! was I surprised….

Okay, he’s not tee-niney or anything, he just struck me as kind of…smaller than I thought. Perhaps because at the time he wasn’t on stage; he was standing a little to the left of it, kinda off in the shadows, at a Smashing Pumpkins gig. He was dating Melissa Auf der Maur at the time, and was squiring her around the country on part of the “Resume The Pose” tour (what was billed as the Pumpkins’ prelude-to-a-farewell tour). Quite honestly, it was one of the best fucking shows I have ever seen. The whole premise of the tour was to take the Pumpkins back to frame, to re-visit their small-venue beginnings. Generally there was not a whole lot of lead time as to where they would play; tickets would be released only a couple days prior to each show and numbers were kept pretty bare-bones. Maxim and I, along with two friends, caught the Valentine’s Day show at Five Points Music Hall (hands-down, one of my favorite venues of all time) with about five- or six-hundred other fans.

It was awesome. Jimmy Chamberlain had just re-joined the band some months earlier and Melissa joined the line-up at about the same time. Melissa and Jimmy both seemed really gleeful and exuberant, and there was an overwhelming sense of the entire band just having a really good time. They really connected with their audience, at least on that particular night. We were maybe two or three rows of people back, facing stage-right. At one point in the show, Melissa slung her bass low and grabbed a camera that had sat, unnoticed, on one of the stacks. She began pointing and making faces at us, then laughing and taking pictures while we returned the favor. So, I’m maybe in a stack of photos at Melissa Auf der Maur’s pad, giving her wicked Kodak tongue, glistening with sweat, hair in the limp ringlets that only a good show or night of club dancing can produce. Fuckin’ right. Riiiiiiight on. Good times, motherfucker, and that little concert ranks as one of the top five in the myriad of shows I’ve had the pleasure of taking in.

The most honest thing I’ve heard a musician say comes from Chris Shiflett’s bio page:
Q: If I didn’t tour with the Foos, I’d be…
A: Super sizing your lunch.

 
|| December 4, 2002 || 12:24 am || Comments (10) ||

psy·cho·tro·pics
n. Where crazy people go on vacation.

I like my drug definitions best, don’t you??

Okay, a question, aimed at the fellas in the audience: Do you ever see another man who is so good-looking, just so blame handsome, that you cannot tear your eyeballs away? I know chicks do this…occasionally there will be a woman so undeniably well-crafted that she commands attention from everyone in the vicinity, including other females. But (AND BE HONEST, YOU HOMOPHOBIC PRICKS) do men do this? I must know!

Brynne, the TACKY PACKtm is yours if you e-mail me within forty-eight hours of this post. After that, the runner-up gets a shot at it.

 
|| December 2, 2002 || 7:52 pm || Comments (5) ||

My company gives all us employees a gift certificate from a grocery store every year. It comes with a happy, goofy generic message attached, something along the lines of “Use this toward your Thanksgiving feast!” Yes. I know.

This year we ate at my (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious) mom-in-law’s. She never lets us do anything, even though I am quite the little baker and Maxim is not far removed from being a culinary master. This year I dug in.

“I refuse to come unless I can bring something this year.”

“Well,” she responded, “you do bring something. You bring the Pepsi!”

“Roxie!” I said, exasperated, “I’m the only one who drinks the Pepsi!” She was backed into a corner and had to acquiesce. I was in charge of the mashed taters and an apple cake. Maxim brought along a couple bottles of his homemade wine. In short, the gift certificate went unused until tonight.

I went to the store a little while ago and bought clothes detergent, four boxes of Hostess mini-muffins for the kids’ after-school snacks (they were on sale for ninety-nine cents a box, rock on!), three packs of smokes and a rack of Stewart’s peach soda (in real glass bottles, oh yeah…). Don’t think that if they had gas pumps out in front of Piggly Wiggly I wouldn’ta filled up my tank with that sumbitch, as well….

 
|| December 2, 2002 || 9:12 am || Comments (7) ||

I do not watch the Sopranos. I have never seen a James Bond movie. I don’t floss every single day like I should. Until last week, when The Pie Queen taught me how, I didn’t know how to do that ping thing.

There you have it, all of my dirty little secrets. Store them up to use for personal gain at a later date. Or, y’ know…to kick me when I’m down.

 
|| December 1, 2002 || 7:33 pm || Comments (0) ||

I heard an uproar in the family room, and at the top of the din was Mathias crying out. Naturally, I called him to me, and as is my way, I lifted his chin so that I could peer into his three-year-old’s cherub face.

“What’s the matter, baby?” I asked him.

“I just can’t take it anymore!!!” he wailed, and threw himself to my breast, sobbing. Heartbreak and bemusement are so often co-mingled when you are a parent.

 
|| December 1, 2002 || 4:06 pm || Comments (0) ||

DelmerSkeetsMcGee: 3 interviews with 6 different people on
three differnt visits over a period of 5 hours.

JettSuperior: With that ONE company???

DelmerSkeetsMcGee: i am going to tell them i feel like I am on
american idol.

DelmerSkeetsMcGee: yep.

DelmerSkeetsMcGee: and I will likely have one more where I tell
them love me or lose me…and see if that closes it.

JettSuperior: wwwoooo….

DelmerSkeetsMcGee: well let’s not start sucking each other’s
dicks quite yet…..it isn’t in the bag at all.

JettSuperior: You are the first male to
publicly acknowledge my penis.

JettSuperior: I hold you in the highest
regard from here on in.

DelmerSkeetsMcGee: actually it was a quote from a movie, but
for the record, i have always thought you to be one of
the biggest dicks i know…fortunately you have the balls
to back it up ;-)

JettSuperior: weee!