mama zen has given me the stylish blogger award. well thanks, ma joad. more stuff to jam into the double wide someplace. but mama always taught me to be polite. if i wasn’t, she walloped me good and my ears rang for a week. so, thank you, ma’am.
i am supposed to reveal seven things about myself. i don’t see a pole, so it won’t be any of those things, dudes. let me think. ow, i hate thinking before noon. okay, here goes. lump it or leave it.
1.my first cat was named little black sambo. hey, i was a kid, the cat was black, and the story had tigers in it.
2. my first bass player, and for a while, boyfriend, managed to stab himself in the leg playing mumblypeg. it got infected and now he’s got a fake leg. it hurts like a b if he kicks you with it, so i try to stay out of range when i see him.
3. band managers aren’t honest. (face palm)
4. i haven’t passed out on stage since 2002. okay, i’m starting to see why i got this award.
5. my last gig, the spread backstage was franco-american mac and cheese in cans, an opener, and a hot plate. We opened the cans and threw it on the suck-ups in the front row.
6. we opened once for the captain and tenille. in 2007. i think the captain has been lobotomized or something. but toni was walking around bossing everybody and wearing this hideous gown so i asked her if it was dry yet from washing the dishes with it cos it was ugly enough and small enough to be a dishrag and nobody wants to see your old-ass bod anyway and so we got into a fight right before i was supposed to go out and sing. the guys jammed for five minutes before i came out, wearing one shoe and with a bloody nose. after that, some of our hard core fans started painting red under their noses with nail polish before our gigs. tenille could hardly sing cos i broke a couple of her ribs with my guitar. why did i get this award again?
7. diet-rite cola sucks. i drank some once cos it was about a hundred in the shade when we played little rock folk festival outdoors and i had to drink something or i couldn’t sing. the stuff is nasty, worse than huffing endust. anyway, as soon as the promoters realized we don’t play folk they pulled us off and we had to pay our own way home. our drummer shot a firework into their tent as we were leaving. it caught on fire and we passed the mayberry f.d. as we floored it out of little rock.