1/ Mindless Self Indulgence was fucking BOSS.

2/ The Birthday Massacre was BETTER.

3/ I am no Combichrist fan, but they shocked the SHIT out of me with how good they are live. I expended waaaaay more energy than I planned on that one. 

Things I have learned:

-At a MSI show, IF YOU ARE ON THE FLOOR, YOU ARE IN THE PIT. By the bar? Doesn't matter. You're in the fucking pit. Merch line? Still gonna get smacked by some huge dude. 

-I will NEVER, EVER, EVER wear platform boots to a no-seat show again. My feet were murderous last night, to the point where the last half hour was hard to enjoy at times. 

-I FUCKING HATE LYN-Z. I HATE HER. I HATE HER GODDAMNED GUTS. Know why? Because I'm fucking jealous as shit of her. Because she has everything I want: a guy I idealized as perfect for a long time, a successful music career with a band that puts on a fucking KILLER live show, and super bendy-flexy skills. Also, sidenote specifically for Jess, she is pretty in pictures, but the bitch is fucking STUNNING in person. I was RIGHTTHERE on the stage, same place I was for the Ani DiFranco show, and she was right in front of me for most of it. She. Is. Beautiful. 

-Chibi from BTM is adorable, and if you stick up a hand and wave at her, she will point at you, smile, and wave back. Darling little chick. Crystal got a wave too, and the guy we were standing with got a kiss blown at him. What a doll. 

-The lead singer of Combichrist is fucking hot. 

-Chicks from Virginia are cool. 

-Birthday Massacre concert shirts run small. 

-Bobby is fucking HOT as my bodygaurd who knocked dudes away from me when I wasn't up for the smooshing/shoving/pushing/crushing/slamming. 

-MSI spend the entire show insulting the fans. The fans, for some reason, love this. It was indeed an awesome show. 

-I'm never gonna bother doing my hair for a show again. When we left, we all looked like we'd just gotten out of the shower. We REEKED and were covered in other people's sweat, drinks, spit, and god knows what else. God knows Jimmy spat on ALL of us at some point. 

That is all. 

My voice is gone.

Call me Mrs. Stevie Richards.

xxxx

Long overdue for a good hard observational rant, I am. Although this one is less angry and more defeatest. 

Read on if you're bored or ready to commiserate. 

xxx

In other Brianne's an asshole news, if I had had a knife on me yesterday, I would have slashed a lady's tires. Seriously. 

She stole a parking spot RIGHT OUT FROM UNDER me and my 85 year old aunt. I mean, we were TURNING TO GET INTO IT, and she yanked in and took it. 

I looked for a knife in my purse. I was dead serious about this. Had it been four years earlier, I would have still had enough Alabama in me to have one. 

So, in the name of improvisation, I spit a loogie on her driver's side window. Fuck you, you spot stealing bitch. 

Maybe I overreacted. 

xxx

I miss Balls Mahoney. If Stevie goes, I'm fucking out.

There's nothing quite like trying to make yourself throw up while Rocket From The Crypt blares in the background. 

Fuck you, cherry coke at Nicki's. 

xxx

I'm on call literally all week, no nights off. 

It's finals week. I have a twelve page paper that's only halfway written.

I cannot get sick. CANNOT.

My neck is having trouble keeping my head up. Ever have one of those days where you keep leaning it over to the side onto your shoulder because it's too heavy and ache-y to function upright? 

Second call out tonight. At this rate, I'll have all six of my shadows done in no time. 

Still.

I worried for that girl the whole drive home. 

xxx

Didn't get the last Dexter book, but I will. Oh, I will. 

Fucking 12 page essay due Thursday. Oughta get on that. 

Anybody know a good headache cure that isn't aspirin or ibuprofen?

My name is Bre, and I have a new obsession.

I bought the first book in the Dexter series by Jeff Lindsay a week ago Thursday. 

I bought the second one on that Saturday.

I rented the first two discs of the first season last night.

I finished it today.

Tomorrow, after work, the third is MINE, next week's lunch be damned. 

xxx



 

Bomb Threat Called In To Jacksonville College Campus

Well, now.

Good thing I skipped my last two classes to help Reynolds grade papers and left campus early.

I cut my own face today when I got cut off in traffic and had to slam on the breaks. With my own fucking fingernails.

The Miz sucks.

Toodle-ooo
XxXxX 

The interview with me, aka AlamedaGreen, is right here. 

Please enjoy. 

***

Five years after my last live show, I sang again.

It wasn't major, mostly just dicking around by the door and as the courtyard was filling, until we got to "A Night At The Roses" by the Dresden Dolls. Then we had a bit of an audience.

I'm such a coward. I had to keep my eyes closed or else I'd have clammed the fuck up.

It's different on a bar stage. Between the stage lights and the general darkness of the environment, you can't see most of the people clearly, much less if they're looking at you. 

Here was I, in broad daylight, with women staring me straight in the face.

My poor father was such a fish out of water, but he was a good sport. Mostly he kept to himself, which in a place where angry feminists/lesbians would have swarmed and destroyed him, it was likely a good idea. He participated a few times, though, which was very forward of him. Sometimes he genuinely suprises me. 

I will sum up the experience the only way I know how.

Sitting there watching Ms. Pauline give her speech about surviving sexual assault and HAVING THE BABY of her rapist as a young teenager, I realized something. 

Almost everyone I know tells me "Bre, you're the strongest person I know." 

I watched these women today tell their stories. They are marble statues. I am a fucking sandcastle. 

***

Ever sing or scream so loud that all you can hear is your own voice? It eclipses everything else and makes it impossible to focus on anything else. Your throat feels like it's moved up into your brain. Your own voice is all there is. 

I did that today, and it woke something up. 

I feel that fire again. 

xxXxxXxxXxxXxx
I was a long time coming
I'll be a long time gone
You've got your whole life to do something
And that's not very long
Why don't you give me a call
When you decide you're willing to fight
For what you think is real
For what you think is right

So, in twenty four hours, I will be nervously twittering around the Women's Center and warming up my voice.

I'm not gonna lie; I'm scared. I haven't sung at a live gig since...

...

...since I was sixteen. 

Fuck. 

xXx 

FUCK YES, KANE.

That is all.

XxX

CM Punk=Mr. Money In The Bank...I hope...

UPDATE: 
WHO THE FUCK CARES, CUZ CM MOTHERFUCKING PUNK JUST WON MONEY IN THE BANK!

SOMEBODY SAY "HALLELUJAH!"

UPDATE: 8:54 pm
Well now, how about that. Kane's the new ECW champ. 
Not gonna lie, kind of miffed that it ain't Tommy, but I can't complain. Kane deserves one more belt run. 

I cannot believe all this shit is going on two hours away from me. 

Update: 9:38 pm
...Jimmy just witnessed history.
Ric Flair's career is over, and what a beautiful way to go out. 

Final Update: 12:03 AM
Jimmy's voice is gone.
16-0, MOTHERFUCKERS.

I took two tests and am now on spring break. I came home feeling like shit and laid down at about 4 pm.

I woke up at 2 am.

Needless to say, I'm awake now.

And I fucking missed the Kimya Dawson show AND my interview with Rissa for The.Interview.

FUCK. 

XxXxXxX

Maybe there's something biologially wrong with me. Childbirth fucking grosses me out. Nothing "magical" about it. I find breastfeeding totally creepy. Pregnancy seems so...parasitic in nature. Essentially, that's what it is: a parasite/host relationship.

I hate kids. I have no desire to have them.

And now I'm pissed off for no reason whatsoever.

Good effing night. 
xXxXxXx