2004-07-16 - 10:24 a.m.
* This morning my desk is basking in sunlight. For that, I am lucky. I could�ve been happy for the rest of the day based on this dose of sunlight alone, but Ani DiFranco was singing to me from my radio a moment ago; then she passed the mic to Joni Mitchell, who passed it to Norah Jones. I woke up next to The Honey this morning and I will fall asleep next to him tonight. Ah, life is good.
! From MSNBC: �The president may be too busy to talk to you,� Kerry told the partisan [NAACP] crowd, �but I have news for you: He�s going to have plenty of time after Nov. 2.� FUCKIN� A RIGHT.
* After downing mass quantities of peach margaritas last night, we went to see the Burning Brides perform (fo� free) at Philly�s Festival Pier. Pastori-i was asking to get his ass kicked, wearing a D-12 hat with a GNR t-shirt in a crowd full of mohawked, blue haired teenagers. He claimed the hat had an embroidered D on it for Detroit�s baseball team, but I think his secret love for all things Eminem has addled his already questionable brain. Enough about Pastori-i.
What is it about tequila and good old fashioned rock and roll that makes a girl want to hit people and show her tits, not necessarily in that order? By the time we got to the show, it was pretty packed. Try being five feet tall in an environment where even short chicks are 5�4�. It�s just not the same if you can't see the band. One guy was sitting on a post, and I asked if I could stand on it, since he was tall enough to see. He pointed to his girlfriend and shook his head. Pussy. I spied another post and claimed it for myself. Hot, I was at eye level with the band�s crazy haired guitarist. Something about all that hair and the way he finger fucked his guitar reawakened the old Pencopal back, the one who would flash her tits at a moment�s notice. She had gone into hiding because at 26 it�s just not appropriate anymore, plus, she didn�t think The Honey would appreciate everyone getting to see the goods. During one particular riff, I felt her scratching at the edge of my shirt, reminding me that I didn�t have a bra on and I had a perfect line of sight to the lead singer. It�d be like, great guitar playing and singing, check these out. But I looked back at The Honey, his long hair blowing in the wind, and thought, why does he have to be the guy with the out of control girlfriend? Plus, after seeing the cappuccino mountains of delight, Pastori-i would either be scarred for life, or fall in love with me. Neither would be good. I averted my eyes from the lead singer to repel his �show me your tits� spell, and started watching the moshers. Old Pencopal reared her out of control head again, taunting me to either go down there and hit people, or throw my shoe at them from on high. But I like these shoes, I thought. But you like to hit things, too, she replied. You can have the best of both worlds. You can hit people without getting hit. Stop it, I thought. Then show him your tits, she replied. If you�re really still young and fun, you�ll either hit something or flash this dude. What�s it gonna be?
When the fuck did I become a multiple personality, I wondered. I fought the urge to hit people and lived vicariously through this one chick with a blue mohawk, who seemed to be having a good time.
After the show, we chilled at Pastori-i�s crib. I leaned over and told The Honey about the urge to flash the twins and bean people in the head with my shoes, but that I�d thought he wouldn�t approve.
�Hey, do what you gotta do,� he said. �If the urge hits, it hits, you know? I�m not going to hold it against you if you get carried away.�
I truly have the best boyfriend ever. Either that or he�s trying to get rid of me.
�
�
