Got an old coat for a pillow

Well, I got it done. Still not really sure how, but hopefully it’s good enough to pass.

It has been a grinding day in so many different ways. Started out badly and just kept plummeting in that same direction. My husband admitted just how much he hates his new job. I might have to fire somebody tomorrow. And right now it seems like everyone is snapping at me like I’m a horrible person.

My morale is low. I’ve begun the realize just how destructive the last three months have felt. I hit that point in late June where I was really let down by my boss and started hating my job… and that’s when everything went grey and (except for the garden) pretty much stayed that way.

So of course I’ve washed up on the shores of the internet again. Looking for some kind of meaning in anything.

YouTube has found this little forgotten jewel for me…

Ah yes. Back when they knew how to market good-looking young men to teenage girls. More lingering shots of his torso please.

I seem to recall this was back in that year when Jon Bon Jovi found an abandoned ’50s drive-in that happened to just randomly be on top of a mesa… which isn’t even flat like a carpark, even if you could get a car up there without the use of a helicopter. And where would the power supply come from? Or the food for the concession stand? It all made perfect sense.

In retrospect, I bet that was a surprisingly expensive video to make. Because, you know, helicopters.

Life experience ruins everything again.


Road Music

24 hours later and I’m still grinding away at that assignment. There is so much left to be done.

So of course I’m ending my night sitting in the cold, past midnight, watching road videos.

Does anyone do good road videos anymore? I mean like the sweaty, jaded, busted-ass music videos that so many 80s bands put out? Your Mama Don’t Dance, the clip I shared the other day, was just one of so many classics. It seemed like all hard rock bands put out one or two… before the 90s came along and people like Trent Reznor made music videos all about artistically rotting pig heads.

I think the old road videos were largely assembled as great big MTV ads for whatever tour the band happened to be staging at that moment. There were some, like Pour Some Sugar on Me and the aforementioned, which were bouncy and upbeat. However what I find notable is how many seem much less ad-like, and have that true touring air of resilience mixed with melancholy.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that they could also showcase groups of fit young men, working hard and being lonely. It made all the girls like me want to scoop them up and take them somewhere warm.

To the game you stay a slave…

Fun & Games

I’ll blame the conferences for the cold. For whatever reason, there always seems to be one jerk who turns up to their company retreat with a head cold, and leaves snotty tissues all over the place for people like me to clean up. Every. Single. Conference. That’s why I had a flu shot earlier this year, because in my job it’s guaranteed I’ll be exposed to every virus that’s making the rounds. It’s worse than running a day care center.

However, I did the decent, socially-conscious thing today and kept my snot at home. It always seems to be the best method for getting over a cold faster: sleep, fluids, and just let it run its course naturally. I already feel a lot better, so will probably be back at work tomorrow with little to-do. Just in time for two more conferences… and a wedding on Thursday… The weather is cooperating by promising thunderstorms this week. This is what you get when you plan a wedding for winter.

When you spend the best part of two days asleep, and the rest of it watching DVDs or perving at men’s gymnastics, there’s not really that much else to share. Gymnastics is one of the few Olympic sports that I’ll watch in large doses. Like many petite, flexible little girls, I did competition gymnastics when I was in school. So I’ll watch it because it’s one of the few sports that I can look at and comment upon semi-intelligently. However, while there is some talent this year, none of the men can really approach the fun of perving at Alexei Nemov back in the day. He seriously made me consider learning Russian, just so that I could fly to Sydney in 2000 with a banner/indecent proposal. Not just artistically gorgeous, but simply gorgeous-gorgeous.

Oh, right, sorry. Ladies aren’t supposed to admit to being lecherous creeps…

But, seriously… mmmm…. look at that inverted cross…

Come on! Who doesn’t watch the Olympics for the eye candy? Isn’t that what it’s all about? Now we just need to convince the IOC to go back to the more traditional games format of everyone competing naked, and all the perverts like me will be much happier. I’ve worked at enough sports events to know one thing: most of the athletes wouldn’t care about nudity since they’re all boffing each other backstage anyway.

Ahh, the Olympics. Everyone pretends it’s about sport and national pride, when really it’s just about sitting on your sofa and leering…

What Women Want

Ah ha! Finally a subject!

Dick pics!

… Sorry, what I meant to say was male sexual needs and the subtext of displaying one’s penis. But dick pics will do as shorthand.

I saw a couple people (including George Takei) share this link today. The promise was to get the reasoning behind dick pics from the horse’s mouth (or budgie’s mouth, as it were). Men who have done it can share why they do it, and what it all means, and what happens when the police get involved.

Continue reading What Women Want

Facebook has a very patchy sense of who I am

I guess that’s one benefit to a more connected world.

I had a day off today. We have a small conference in-house today and tomorrow, and I’ll be opening up the venue for them in the morning. One thought that occurred to me this evening, is that I’m hoping the venue was left clean and tidy as I won’t have time to clean it in the morning. The staff member who was taking care of this group this afternoon has a tendency to leave jobs half-finished when no one is looking over her shoulder.

So I logged into the timeclock from home.

Continue reading Facebook has a very patchy sense of who I am

Bret, you’ve got it going on

It’s Bret Michaels’ birthday today. He’s 53.

I’ve riffed a little on this before, but one day I’ll sit down here and explain the vast and complex relationship I’ve had with Bret Michaels over the past 27 years (well, at least with a picture of Bret Michaels). It will sound insane, but it’s a fundamental part of what makes me me. Through him, I’ve learned about grace under pressure, persevering in spite of critics, and the benefits of laughing at myself. I wish I had his charm. And the greatest part is that he didn’t actually have to participate in our relationship in order for me to learn those things.

Tragically unhip. Sex obsessed and badly dressed. That is, and always has been, Poison. That is us.


Continue reading Bret, you’ve got it going on

Youth Gone Wild

“How many singles were released from Ratt’s album Out of the Cellar?”

“In what year was Joe Elliot born?”

“Who was the drummer for Cinderella?”

… I got a new phone.

It was about time. My old phone was around 4 years old, and kept having little moments where it forgot it was a phone and thought it was a paperweight or a toaster or something. It was reaching the point where the choice was: a) get a new phone, or b) throw this one through the wall.

Continue reading Youth Gone Wild


WARNING: Stay away from this blog, kiddies! I’m in a particularly explicit mood and you’re too young.


A couple of my crew are still teenagers. Young teenagers. They look a bit older than their years though, and it’s not until I’m trapped in conversation with them that I tend to remember just how young they really are. I dropped one of them home tonight, and she chattered incessantly in the car about her love life (imaginary), friends (probably real), and music (bands I’ve only vaguely heard of and care about even less). It’s hard to remember that I was ever so young.

She seems to be very much into Six60 at the moment, which I suppose is nice and cuddly… and hopefully the reggae beat doesn’t instinctively make her want to blaze up, as it does for me. She also insisted that she liked a lot of “older” music… like Nirvana… which made me want to cry because Nirvana are still irritatingly new to me. She also asked me what I used to listen to at her age.

Now, when I was her age I told people that the first album I’d ever bought was Guns ‘n’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction. It wasn’t. Mostly I just told people that because I thought it made me sound cool. The first album I ever bought was Toto IV. I’m that old.

Continue reading Dirrrrty…

I don’t care if you smoke weed

No, seriously. That’s pretty much all I need to say.

I caught a group of patrons drinking and smoking weed in the parking lot tonight. And really I just care that they walked out of our (licensed) bar area into our (unlicensed) parking lot with open bottles of beer. That’s not ok, and we could lose our liquor license. But they thought I’d be mad about the weed and tried (rather badly) to hide it. Except I could smell it 50 feet away, and they all had some pretty wide stares on.

Continue reading I don’t care if you smoke weed