SO THanksgiving has come and gone....another holiday with my increasingly wierd family. The day itself was pretty uneventful...lots of small talk and nodding. My father and I divised an escape plan...anytime one of us was trapped in a conversation that was going no where, we would shout "Tippytoe, Tippytoe" and the other would come to their rescue (a'la Seinfeld). Unfortunatley, my Dad has this way of completley zoning out, so numerous times I was left grinning and nodding...and shouting "tippytoe"... I don't think my family caught on.

Another rather distressing thing happened. All my life....at every family gathering, I would be bombarded with comments from my Aunt Debby about my attire: "Where in the world would you find something like that?"..."I didn't think they made that in adult sizes"...."You look like my grandfather" (yah, I didn't really get that either). These comments never really bothered me, in fact I found comfort in knowing that my Aunt, with her assortment of turtleneck dickies, and puff paint sweaters, didn't "get" my clothing choices. However, last Thursday, the unthinkable happened....as I bent down to greet my Aunt she said the words that have haunted me since...."I just love your outfit, we almost match." I was shocked...I ran to the bathroom and pulled off my pants...nope, no stretch pants, the shoes were next, I tore off my heels...no stirrups, I tuggeed at my shirt, searched for the "dickie line" (similar to the panty line except around the shoulders and chest)...I was safe.
As I stumbled out of the bathroom, I began to accept the fact that my Aunt had seen a GLIMMER of her own personal style in me....I may have been safe then, but who knows....years from now I may just be another lady with a puff-painted dickie.

Missing Image ;(

Missing Image ;(

AHh Ben.....who would have thought that the Family Channel would introduce me to my true love....okay so he might only be fifteen....but what is age anyway.....most of the time I act like a fifteen year old, (and an immature one at that).
If Demi Moore has taught us nothing else, she has taught us three things:
1) The real way to express a feminist spirit is through a shaved head (after all, nothing says "pro-women" like looking like a man....)
2) Strippers are people too
3) Dating younger men is a sure fire way to happiness....plus it gaurantees that your children will never have to look far to find a playmate.
So in a situation like this, I ask myself "What would Demi do?"

This fog makes me calm.....pleasantly calm. There's is something about fog, as opposed to rain or (God forbid) snow, that makes me really happy...not "skipping and singing" happy, more like "taking a big deep breath and feeling it in every part of my body" happy. It's a great feeling.

Cleveland, Cleveland, Cleveland, last night Teres and I drove to the so called "city of rock" for the Azure Ray/Crooked Fingers show. Despite the small turnout (there couldn't have been more than fifty people there), the concert was great. Azure Ray sounded as they should...pretty and ethereal...Crooked Fingers on the other hand (fronted by Eric Bachman of "Arhers of Loaf") was slightly ruined for me when some random guy (Teres' "Boyfriend".."ooooooh") compared them to Neil Diamond. It seemed far fetched at first but the more I listened...the truer it became....seriously I thought they were going to break out with "Cracklin' Rose" at any minute...oh well..

With directions from the bartender (who bared a remarkable resemblence to David from "David and Goliath") we headed off to "Chuck's Diner" to get some grub. Here's where I began to develop rather negative feelings towards Cleveland....It is my understanding that any city that has at most six street names which they divide up amnongst hundereds of streets by definition "sucks"....therfore it is only logical that I declare Cleveland the "suckiest" city I have ever been to.

Missing Image ;(

John Malkovich......does it get any better?
...........(insert your suggestions for exactly who is better here)........
Nope, I'm afraid you have been deceived, in fact there is nothing better than Dear Sweet Johnny Boy!