The Feminist Breeder

Should Wii Buy One?

The husband and I are pretty anti-video game.  We never enjoyed them growing up, and now that we see grown men sitting around playing World of Warcraft while their wives do everything around the house, the whole concept seems to be Loserville with a Capital L.  I would so much rather be reading a book.  We have always said that we didn’t want our kids to get into video games either because there are so many other activities they could be doing instead.  They could play sports, or play an instrument, or play a board game.  You know… all the other things in the world that can stimulate a mind other than staring at another screen.

And don’t get us started on “Rock Band.”  Ohmyfuckinggod.  If you want to play music and pretend to be a rock star, what the hell is wrong with picking up an actual guitar that makes music?  That’s what the husband and I did when we were kids, and that’s why we got to spend our 20’s living the rock life.  What would have happened if (insert your favorite recording artist here) had not picked up an instrument when they were a kid, and instead decided to play freaking “Rock Band”?

So here in this house we have always written video games off as “not our thing.”  Meh.

Then along came the Wii Fit.  Neither one of us has ever used the Wii Fit, but we have played a few games of Wii bowling at our friends’ house and a fair amount of fun.  But the Wii Fit actually sounds really useful to us.  Perhaps it’s just the thing that may motivate me to get off my ass and do some Yoga.  I can’t afford to take any Yoga (or other fitness) classes, and maybe this is a cheaper alternative.

So now we’re contemplating buying a Wii as our family Christmas present to ourselves.  The system would cost us about $300, and that’s a huge chunk of change to us.  So I ask you, loyal blog readers, is this a good purchase?  The idea of buying a video game system is so intensely unappealing to me, but I sure do like the sound of having an interactive fitness system in the house.

Thoughts?

The Girl is Crafty like Ice is Cold

A few years ago I wanted curtains but I couldn't find any that I liked, and none that I could afford either (window treatments are expensive, yo!)

So I told the Hyphenated Husband it would be cheaper to buy a sewing machine and some fabric and let me make my own.  It was a LOT of work and I really had no idea what I was doing.  I had to call my aunt and ask her how to thread the bobbin, then I read the directions that came with the sewing machine to figure out the rest.  But to this very day one of the first things people say when they come into my home is how cool my curtains are.  I get compliments on them all the time.  They are pretty cool... even if they are probably sewn all wrong.  A trained seamstress would probably laugh at my execution, but to the untrained eye they look just fine.

So since then I've taken on a little sewing project here and there when I get a wild hair up in the nether places.  This year I decided to make the kids' Halloween costumes, so I went looking for some online tutorials on how to make the pants I needed for Julesy's monster costume.  I found this AWESOME page from Rookie Moms that shows how to make baby pants from an old t-shirt!  I tried that a few nights ago and Hyphenated Husband was so impressed with my pant-making skills, he said I should make some other outfits for the kids too.  I decided to start out trying pajamas.  I figured it would be more forgiving, and if I screwed them up royally then nobody would ever see them outside the house.  So I went a-shoppin' at JoAnn Fabrics today and picked out some super cute prints.

What you're seeing here is my first ever attempt at making a complete pajama set.  I learned how to sew the shirt from a YouTube video tonight.  Overall I'm pretty pleased with myself.  I LOVE the fabric and applique I used, but the shirt came out looking very feminine (maybe it's the trim, or the cut, or both... I dunno, but I hope I can fix that next time.)  You can click on the photo to blow it up and see the detail.  The pants are a Rock N Roll guitar/radio print, and I put a "Rock N Roll" applique on the shirt.  I loved the concept, I just wish that damn shirt hadn't come out looking so girly.  That would be fine if I had a girl (or if I have a girl in the future) but it looks funny on Julesy since the kid is built like a teeny football player.

If you have any sewing tips, or links to favorite sites, please leave them in the comments.  I'm not going to get all serious about it, but my little craft projects are a nice stress reliever when I have time to do them, and I'd like to make something usable every time.

Mothers are like Vampires...

No...really.  Think about it.

Mothers are nocturnal.

Mothers can sense when their loved ones are in danger, even if they're not in the same room.

Mothers can move faster than the speed of sound to snatch a falling child out of mid-air just seconds before they hit the ground.

Just like Vampires.

And today, I decided there's a new trait.  After trying, and failing miserably, to refresh my appearance, I've decided it's not even possible.  In the same way that vampires cannot change their hair, neither can I.

I went in to the stylist today and asked for my punk rock hair back.  I used to be cute.  Before people came out of my vagina, I looked like a rocker.  I looked on the outside what I felt like on the inside.  You could tell by being in the same room with me what I was about.  You could tell by looking at me that I played in a band and lived an exciting life.

But not anymore. No matter who I get to cut my hair, I cannot look like anything but a mother.  It's impossible.  Look at that haircut.  Could I LOOK anymore like a soccer mom?  I asked her for Punk Rock/Joan Jett in 1978 ---- DOES THAT LOOK ANYTHING LIKE JOAN JETT IN 1978?!?!!?!?!?  I would insert many, many expletives here, but I know some Christians read my blog so I'll spare y'all the blasphemy.

Apparently I will have the "Mom Bob" for the rest of my natural life now.  It's inevitable.  People will never again look at me and think "oh, I bet she plays guitar" or "oh look, it's that girl who played in those cool bands!"  Nope.  They will look at me and think "I wonder how many kids she has" or "yeah, she clearly never did anything even remotely cool in her entire life."

And with that, I will leave you with this video. It is hilariously, painfully true.  There is no avoiding it. Time to mix up some oxycotin and Jack Daniels, then drink away the pain of assimilation.  I'm a mom, and there ain't nuthin' cool about it.

Wordless Wednesday (Play at Full Volume)

TFB Won't Be a Victim - You're Not Worth It (The Stalker Confirmed.)

I've talked before about the fact that I've been in some high-profile situations that left me bloodied and bruised by hateful gossip.

Well, I'm once again the subject of some internet hate- but this time I'm not bruised at all. I couldn't care less.  I'm surprisingly zen about the whole thing actually.  I think with age comes wisdom.  8 years ago I defended myself the way a 22 year old would.  Today, I prefer to let people rot in their own egregious idiocy.  This guy is begging for a virtual hand-job from me, and I'm not giving it to him. I already feel like I need one of those "Silkwood" showers to burn his stupidity off my flesh.  Just like when I played with Ms. Love, being in proximity to this makes me feel... icky.

I also know who this "source" of theirs was, and she is a psycho-stalker who we had to block from our band's Myspace page yeeeeeears ago because we were sensing a very "John Lennon/Mark David Chapman" vibe.  Veruca Salt also banned her from their forums because she was clearly totally mentally unstable, and I've also recently had to block her IP address from blog from and my Twitter account. She was desperate for attention, and this dude gave it to her.  Good for them.  Let them all rot in each other's insanity.

I do appreciate those who visited their bullshit and stuck up for me though.  Thanks guys.

UPDATE: The psycho-stalker has been confirmed as the source of the email to TheBlockFM.  I knew from the second I saw that email that it was her, she's been doing this kind of thing for 6-7 years, and when she realized I was onto her, she emailed them again and copied me.  She's Kathy Bates, yo.  She's "trying to help" me and just wants to "be a friend." Holy total insanity.  She must have gone off her medication today, and I'm really not kidding. If anyone knows whether I can file a restraining order on her because cyber-stalking, please let me know.  I know that she knows where I live, and claims to have family here (though she lives in Seattle.)  I also want to know if I can name TheBlockFM in any legal proceedings since they are aiding her behavior.  If she loses it and hurts my family, I want the courts to know they were involved.  Please make with the free legal advice peeps.

Trust ME Twitter Friend, You Don't Need That Cesarean

I think many of us walk a fine line between wanting to know what’s going on in the world, and being sorry we ever asked.  Thanks to the power of Twitter, I have been able to cyber-witness mothers everyday in hospitals all over this country being rolled off to the OR for their cesareans – all Tweeted live by the expectant father.  It’s not hard to tell by a quick glance at the blinkies on the side of my blog that I am no fan of cesarean deliveries, and I’m not one to hide my feelings on the matter either. Science and evidence are on my side, and I know it.  I realize this means I’m putting myself in a challenging position by exposing myself to certain Tweets in Twitterland.

Oh, they just make it too easy.  If you have a nifty application like TweetDeck or Seesmic, you can perform a quick search on any word, and it will open a column that is continuously populated with tweets that contain that searched word.  Right now I have a column open for the term “BFing” (or breastfeeding) and one for the term “cesarean.”

Almost every day I see a tweet or two come in from a dad in a delivery room somewhere in America’s heartland, saying something to the effect of “labor’s a bust, we’re going with the cesarean.”  And of course, being who I am, my heart drops just a little.  I can’t not say something (more on this later).  So here is the transcript from yesterday’s encounter:

TheDad: Thank god for the epidural. She's in labor getting close! Exciting!
TheDad: Doing cesarean in bout half an hour after no progress from baby with 2 hours of pushing

(Here's where I come in)

Me: Get rid of the epidural, and she probably won't need the cesarean (they r bad news). Seriously. That's what worked for me.

TheDad: it's only bad whentoo strong to feel anything. Babies head toobig nothing to do with epidural

Me: it's bad when she can't move to reposition the baby. If she was able to move, baby's head is likely to fit. Avoid cesarean.
Me: and btw, "big baby" and "big head" are good excuses for docs to cut, and 90% of the time they are wrong about size.

TheDad: of course she can move to reposition the baby. Epi doesn't mean handicapped. It's not rocket science. Some heads are too

TheDad: big and some hip bones are too small and don't move.

Me: i'm a small woman who birthed a 10 lb baby after the doctors said I never could. Doctors love cesareans. Very sad.

TheDad: great for you. Unfortunatelynot all womens bones cooperate

Me: we always blame the woman's body. Our bodies are not a lemon. Good luck with baby, I wish Mom a speedy recovery. Ican-online.org

Now, I realize that it seems completely ludicrous that I would expect some stranger to take my advice over Twitter.  I am under no delusion that this man is going to turn to his wife whilst she’s being prepped for the OR and say “Honey, unplug the spinal, this woman on Twitter says you shouldn’t have a cesarean.”  And I’d surely die of shock if she actually turned to him and said “Really?  A stranger on Twitter said so? Okay, unhook me Doc! I’m delivering this baby through my vagina instead.”

No, no, it’s not like I really think that’s going to happen. So why do I bother?  Why do I upset myself, and undoubtedly upset this expecting dad on the most important day of his whole life?  I promise this is not nearly as selfish as it sounds.  Or at least I hope not. 

Yes, I understand that I don’t know any of the details about this couple’s unique situation.  Maybe there was a really, really good reason why she needed a surgical delivery.  The issue is, though, this situation is hardly “unique.”  If people only knew how their cesareans played out like scripted screenplays, they might feel cheated and lied to.  The Business of Being Born did an excellent job of creating a cartoon out of this all-too-common situation.    Everyone thinks their cesarean was “necessary” and an “emergency” when in reality so few of them really are.  I want people to know this. I want to help them avoid this.  I want them to avoid the pain and trauma my cesarean caused me. 

My intentions are pure – but you know what they say about Intentions and that Paved Road to Hell…  The truth is, I can’t help it.  I have always felt some unshakeable urge to convince others of my argument, especially that which I am passionate about, even if it may not be the appropriate time or place for such an exchange.

Ten years ago I wrote and recorded a song called “The Joke’s On You” in which I announced to a (then) unrequited* love that:

I have two things
A big mouth, and bad timing
But I have something
You can’t admit that you need
Oh, oh, oh, the joke’s on you.

It seems not a lot has changed in the last ten years.  I’m a different person, arguing about different things, but my need to be right, and/or save people from certain doom (whether that be a major surgery, or the sin of not loving me back) hasn’t shifted much.  And now that I think about it, I may have been like this since I was a child.

I once held a sleepover in 7th grade.  You know, the kind that you invite all the popular girls to in an effort to improve your social status.  For some reason these sleepovers always consisted of a crying session, in which girls would sit in a circle and take turns telling some tear-jerking tale. We would all sob and hug each other – the general purpose being that all this emotion-sharing would bond us, like, 4-ever.

I remember at this particular party, one girl, let’s call her “Lydia”, used her turn to tell the story of her uncle who was dying from cancer.  Very sad indeed.  Everybody loaded onto the Sympathy Train and listened intently to Lydia’s sad story.  She came to a point where she told us all that she visited her uncle in the hospital, and he had lost all his hair.  Lydia informed us that the cancer had made him bald.

I looked at Lydia with the typical level of care and concern that an 11 yr old girl is capable of, and proceeded to correct her.  “No Lydia,” I said, “the cancer itself didn’t make your uncle lose his hair, it was the chemotherapy – the treatment for the cancer that did that.”  Big Mouth.  Bad Timing.  Even at 11 yrs old.

Lydia screws up her face and shouts back at me “No! It was the cancer! He said so!” and wails a little harder.  All the other girls rush in to hug her, glancing over their shoulders at me with daggers in their eyes, like I’m the biggest dickhead in the whole world.  They think to themselves, “Ughgh, there goes Gina again, being an argumentative ass. It’s no wonder none of us really likes her.  We only came to this sleepover because she promised that there was an old liter of vodka stashed in the back of her grandparents cupboard.” 

What?  I was right about the Chemo.  But I guess that’s no excuse for saying so.

I don’t know.  Perhaps I am a dickhead.  Perhaps my habitual urge to explain the truth to others indicates that I harbor some clinical form of narcissism that could benefit from a little old-fashioned shock therapy.

I prefer to believe that I am a Defender of The Truth.  I think this is what will make me a great lawyer.  If I wasn’t willing to take one for the team, how could I ever help anybody?  I suppose it is my destiny in life to be a little bit hated by some, but appreciated by those souls I can actually get through to.  I may not have saved that woman from her cesarean, but maybe I planted a seed?  I hope, very very hard, that’s what happened.

Though most days I think I ought to delete the columns from Tweetdeck, and surgically remove the part of my soul that aches from these un-truths. 

It is just so much simpler not to care.

~TFB

_______________________________________________

*We went on to date for two years, and are still very good friends.  That relationship remains one of the most important relationships either one of us has had to date. See?  I was right.

My Son is a Rock 'N' Roller...

...just like his mama and daddy.  Looks like this apple landed right next to the tree.

Tonight we were listening to the radio during dinner like we always do, and Jonas recognizes a lot of bands.  Tonight I asked him what kind of instruments the band plays, and here's what my 2 & 1/2 year old boy had to say...

He's a smart cookie.  It helps that we have these instruments in the house, and he's grown up watching us play.  It's so fun to listen to him talk about music.  Notice how he's so excited to know the answer that he can't sit still.  You rock, Jonas.

Pink and Purple Twilight Zone

I’ve made it quite clear that I want a daughter.  After today’s “incident” – I wonder if I have any idea what I’m wishing for.

We went to the Husband’s friend’s house for her little girl’s 5th birthday party.  She’s adorable, and apparently has quite a big crush on me.  Her mom tells me she listens to my CD until it wears holes in her mother’s ears, and she named one of her new baby dolls “Gina” today.  It’s sweet.  I’ve never done anything particularly fun with her, but I guess she must find something fun about me.

A few hours into the party we were sitting around the table and all the little girls were hanging out in the Birthday Girl’s room, playing Barbies or whatever it is little girls do.  All the sudden one of the other little girls, let’s call her Seven Year Old, came out and asked me if I would come into the bedroom with her to help her with something.  I was a little flattered that she’d pick me, so I took her hand and followed her into the room.

Just as I got in there with all the girls, Seven Year Old shuts the door hard behind me and locks it.  Then she turns to me with all the seriousness of a 25 yr old and says, “You’re going to clean up this room now.”

I laugh a little at the unexpected demand and I say “so, I’m guessing your mommy told you that you have to clean up when you’re done playing, right?”  She replies, “Yes, but we’re not going to clean it up, you are,” and she was as serious as a heart attack.

Just then, the pink and purple wall start to close in on me a little, and I say nervously, “No, I’m going back to the table, I think you guys can clean this up.”  Seven Year Old says “We locked the door, you’re not going anywhere.”

I notice all four girls start to pile in front of the door in an attempt to barricade me in.  I start to wonder if I’m hallucinating.  These girls aren’t joking.  The Pepto-Bismol walls and floor carpeted in Barbies, coupled with these four-foot-high dictators disguised as princesses, started to make me panic a little.

I say “Well, I can use my phone to call and have somebody let me out,” realizing just then that I actually didn't have my phone with me, which started my heart racing a little.  Then, I just go for it, and start to try to pull the door open.  Don’t ever underestimate the strength and determination of a group of girls.  I got the door open just enough to yell an exasperated “Can somebody help me here??!?!!?”

Seven Year Old’s mom comes running over, and by this time 3 of the girls have ahold of my leg, refusing to let me out the door.  I’m struggling to pull free, and SYO’s Mom has to start scolding them all about how they’re going to hurt me and make me fall down.

I finally pull free and run out of the room, embarrassed and discombobulated.  What just happened?  Did I really just get overtaken by a tiny gaggle of girls?  Did they really think I was going to fall for that?  Do I look stupid?

I relay the story to the Husband, who is peeing himself laughing… but I’m still a little shaken.  It was touch and go there for a minute.  And then I wonder… are all little girls just tiny little lunatics in training? 

If that’s the case, perhaps I don’t want one after all.

Songs About Cesarean

I'm a huge fan of the Dresden Dolls.  If you don't know who they are, then do yourself a favor: drop everything you're doing and skee-daddle yourself on over to their Myspace page you can listen to some songs.  I feel quite comfortable (and qualified) in saying that Amanda Palmer is a gift to our generation.  She bleeds, sweats, cries, and even menstruates musical genius.  I am certainly a more complete person for having been affected by her melodies and lyrics.

But this is not a Dresden Dolls review.  I want to talk about one song in particular of theirs called "Girl Anachronism."  It makes me wonder if a child, who turns into a thinking adult, would be impacted by their entry into the world, most specifically by their cesarean entry.  It could be a stretch, but certainly worth thinking about.  Does Amanda Palmer possess a certain sadness about her "accidental" entry into the world?  Only she knows for sure.  But, what do you think?

Girl Anachronism

"...i was taken out
before the labor pains set in and now
behold the world's worst accident
i am the girl anachronism..."

"...i was too precarious removed as a caesarian
behold the worlds worst accident
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM..."

Jonas Loves Dandy Warhols

She Had Me At Hello

This weekend, I get to spend two husband-less and baby-less days in Pittsburgh with my other favorite Redhead, Miss Kathryn.

Kathryn and I first met 8 years ago (this month) in the bass section of the Guitar Center on Halsted. I was just forming Rockit Girl, and had my eye out for a female bassist. Kathryn and her dad were walking around looking at the basses, and I thought to myself, "she's cute, I wonder if she plays the bass?" So, I walked over to her and said "So, do you play bass?" She said "Yes." and I asked her to join my band. The rest was history.

A few years later Kathryn got a major scholarship to complete her Masters degree at Carnegie Mellon, and sadly left Chicago and RG. She's been in Pittsburgh ever since, and while RG went through many other bassists before it died, Kathryn will always be THE Rockit Girl bassist. Needless to say I miss her terribly, and only get to see her a couple times a year. I should fly to Pittsburgh more often.

I have no idea what we'll be doing in PA this weekend, but I do know I'll be having fun! Kathryn is so full of life and love, it's impossible not to have an amazing time around her.

Maybe I can convince her to sail the Mediterranean with us next year (wink, wink, Katrina.)

Square Pegz

Story Time.....

Jonas has this little yellow plastic bucket with a blue lid.  The lid has openings in 3 different shapes; round, triangular, and square.  The little bucket came with little plastic blocks shaped to match the openings in the lid.  The idea is that you put the triangle through the triangle opening, the round in the round, and the square in the square.  We all know this toy.  We all had this toy once upon a time.

Jonas isn't nearly coordinated enough to understand the toy yet.  He just dumps the bucket upside down and chews on the plastic blocks.  The point is that this toy is for babies... to teach them what-goes-where.  The concept is to put things where they belong.  Trying to shove a square block into a round hole is going to result in only two things; Frustration and Defeat.

So why, in my adult life, do I insist on shoving square blocks into round holes?  I have learned the hard way time and time again that if something is too complicated, requires too much forcing, or too much worry, it is generally the exact wrong thing to do.

My last relationship was a perfect example of this.  Constant forcing that resulted in only those two things; frustration and defeat.  Oh, and a bitter "divorce" that cost me most of my dignity.

The latest example of this is/was my most recent music project.  Even though every practice/every song/every note felt forced, I still showed up..... Still tried to make it work.  Ultimately I succeded only in making everyone in the room miserable, and cheating my son out of 4 nights a month he could have been spending with me.

There are many more examples of my "Square-block-round-hole" tendencies, most of which include my marriage's present financial turmoil and our impending foreclosure.  Won't I ever learn to do things the easy way?

I'm going to start looking for that round block.

I feel the need to say something....

I feel the need to say something....
As totally L.A.M.E. as it is to review your own show (you know who you are, lame-asses) I still feel like I should give a little shout-out and recap of the nights events.

A.) Everyone did a fan-fucking-tastic job - Especially Chad.  He's the biggest rockstar of us all. 16 songs, 6 of which he heard for the first time only 1 week before the show.

B.) I fucking LOVE my friends, my family, and Rockit Girl herself.  I'm ready for the band to be over, but I will always love the gal, and the people she attracts.  Rockit Girl is not me, but an entity that possesses everyone on stage and in the crowd.  I was fully infected on Saturday, and judging by the packed-like-sardines crowd that sang and danced to every single song, they were all fully infected too.  Fuck, that was cool.

C.) If you weren't there, you ought to kick your own ass right now, because EVERYBODY was there having the time of their lives.  It was packed to the gills. P.A.C.K.E.D.  From side to side, front to back.... filled to the brim with good-time people.  The energy in that room was absolutely unbelievable.  And, like I said, if you weren't there... well, you basically suck, and that's pretty much all there is to it.

D.) If you were there, you oughta know that Kathryn and I WILL be in a band together again someday.  We are two, totally undeniable, rocking redheads.

E.) Also, if you were there and got so drunk you can't remember how you got home, don't worry, you are NOT alone.  EVERYBODY got bit by the dog that night because, as I learned later through a few reliable sources, the bartenders were pouring unusually (and in some cases, unbearably) strong drinks.  So don't be so quick to blame your own over-indulgence... the heavy-handed bartenders are slightly to blame as well.  And I'm sure that that unbelievable-room-energy I spoke of really helped grease the party wheels too.  The whole room was like a giant, jovial celebration.  I've never seen so many happy people in one place at one time.

F.)  The Venom Lords kicked more ass than I've ever seen before, and everybody took notice.  Last night was a turning point for them..... I can just feel it.

So that's that.  Thanks to everyone who came out.  U all rule and you know it.

The End of Rockit Girl.

Hey everybody.

As you have probably already heard, Rockit Girl is calling it quits. It's been nearly 7 years and I'm interested in life beyond the shackles of the old gal. I made this decision over two months ago, we've just been waiting to figure out when we could play the last show to make the announcement.

Everyone in the band has something going on musically so we're not disappearing all together.

John, Chad and I have a new band called The Viv Savages which I play bass in. We're in our writing infancy, but so far it's been good fun.

Chad is also playing drums for the Dials and Mirror America. Emily has found a home with The Handcuffs.

Out of all the times I should have packed it in, I didn't. Not even when every member of the band left in one day, I still didn't give up. And now, I have three people who are totally into RG and totally commited to my vision of it, but I just can't do it anymore. I thank Emily, John, and Chad for being the best bandmates a girl could have, and for trying to keep it going even when I sat on the floor at practice and begged them not to make me play Love All Wrong one more time. They are troopers.

Alot has happened in my life in the past year and a half, and RG just doesn't seem to fit anymore. I'm going to school now and doing incredibly well. School is the main reason for my shift away from Rockit Girl. See, most people go to school and THEN start playing music. I started playing in bands when I was 18 and never had the chance to go to school. Now I do, and it is far more fulfilling for me. I'm also getting married and having a baby, and those are the things I want to focus on now. I gave music 10 years of my life. Now it's time for me. Those of you who know me will be shocked by this, because nobody (including me) ever saw me doing anything but playing in RG and partying. I don't know how it happened, but here I am. In love, and with child. So Weird.

Our last show is going to be a hell of a good time though. Here are the details.

Saturday, February 4th
DOUBLE DOOR
w/ Venom Lords,

America's #1 Sweetheart, and The Strategy Game

We'll post discount tickets when they are available.

gina.

Salt Licks.

Last night was incredible.  I haven't had so much fun in....well, I can't remember when I ever had so much fun.  Me and my girls danced our goddamn asses off.  We hugged and kissed, and loved life.

Veruca Salt played their asses off, and Juliette & The Licks were amazing. Juliette herself was a sight to behold.  Other Gina and I are now in love with her.  I'm pretty sure if Gina was gay, and I was gay, she and I would be life partners.

I got to spend a rockin' night with Katrina, which made me feel very happy and very sad. I Miss her, and I love her so.

Louise and I reconnected.  On stage, between songs, she pointed at me and said "Hi Gina" which was almost enough to make me cry.  It was a sweet gesture.  After the show, we found each other and held a long, emotional embrace while offering apologies and other lovely words.  Old wounds have healed.

All in all, it was a very special evening.  It made me realize how much I love my friends and how I need to make more time for them.

The Viv Savages

....is the name of my new band.  Don't try to steal it, my copyright is pending so HA!

Many of you know that I used to be a bass player in two very 'high profile' bands.  I love playing bass.  I miss playing bass.  I'm an awesome bassist.  Seriously.  I will toot my own horn.  I worked reallly, reallly, really hard learning how to play bass because those two high 'profile bands' I was in wouldn't let me be anything but great.  They were good teachers.

So, since nobody has the good sense to give my ass a bass playing job.... I'll just start my own band.  Yeah.  This is totally different than Rockit Girl.  This is the kinda band where I'll wear little posh dresses and not sing about my stupid ex boyfriend.

I got a Fender American Highway 1 P Bass in vintage yellow, and a Fender Bassman cabinet to go with John's Beringer head, and now I'm ready to go.  John and I are writing songs together, for the first time.  We have been writing songs all weekend.  For the first time in a year, I'm inspired and prolific.

I'm in love with my new bass.  I want to sleep next to it.  John's in love with it too, he won't stop fondling it.  Now that I think of it, we're having a three-some with a bass.

I'm going to re-learn the "sweet child o' mine" bass line.  I forgot how to play all the good stuff I used to know.  bye bye.

I need a fix cause I'm going down......

Ever since some nameless person lost my entire record collection two years ago, well, actually borrow without my knowledge and left in Estelles....   I've been living without my Beatles collection (and Led Zeppelin).  So today, with my Circuit City charge card in hand, I finally broke down and re-purchased nearly the entire Beatles catalog.  I now have all the albums that are important to me.  I got:

The White Album
Abbey Road
Revolver
Yellow Submarine
Let It Be
Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band

I'm so damn happy I could cry.