Well I'll take whatever I want
and Baby I want cheww
You give me something I need
now tell me I got something for you
Come on - come on - come on - and do it
come on and do what you do...

Be o-so glad that you're not my co-dweller or upstairs neighbor at this moment as, with tequila + hangover on this fine sunny Saturday AM, I'm blasting BadCo getting, as we say in the music biz, pumped for tonight's big show.
Glee has never been more experienced. The concert t's better be interesting. And the show, too. And I'm hoping that Foreigner is on last as I only want to shoot them and scram. But, for the record, I'm there, so there, for BadCo. Dig?

Fortunately last night I bumped, nearly literally, into the most boyish boy colleague who handily reminded me that I had a group show art opening in a few hours. Ran to opening (after running home for descuzzing and equipment changes) for fun and frivolity (and dinner = cheese, crackers, beer).
It was unmarred good times until a brat, dragged into a photo op by artist pal Matt, decided it'd be really groovy to have her back to me/camera, to make faces, to be just a general pain in the ass.
I had to say this: COOPERATE or get the hell out of the picture - a first.
Onwards then to other events, including a benefit with a M*A*S*H theme which happened under a mildewy tent so intense I had to curtail that stop.
Then to the disco step-by-step hoopla and that scene of well-matched dancers and a section for freestylists. Marty Angelo bought me a shot of tequila and I believe he told JP/bartender to supersize it. Through the strobing of lights I saw a second cousin on the dancefloor doing her thing, and, I'm proud to say, she didn't disgrace the family.

Onwards to AOL assignments, freelance matters, and then.

Almighty God who knoweth all please kill or cause the demise of the big crow outside my house, specifically my bedroom window, who crows every fucking AM really early causing me to wake to its Hitchcock strains. Thanks in advance.

Ben Folds is playing this week's freebie en plain air concert downtown. And could I be more un-psyched? Yes. I've seen him before, when he was Ben Folds Five. Today on the radio an astute station employee (I believe there are hardly any live humans on the air and now it's all prerecorded... I heard the fake woman's voice blip and it was onto an 80s Police song this afternoon) played that godawful song that Ben F wrote about taking his girlie pal to the abortion clinic and all the attendant psychodrama that accompanied that. Suh-nooze. He might need pyrotechnics to jazz up his set.

Speaking of exploding devices I can hardly contain my excitement for the pending Day of Independence as I have a supersecret cache of pyros... and Eric has an equal cache imported from out west. I'm skipping crossing the Canadian border this July, I'll be adding to the collection (one can never ever have enough explosives on hand) via a drive to Pennsyltucky.

I love tradition. And what do I love more than the good ol' tradition of eating white trash food, drinking too much and exploding shit? Shoe shopping in NYC with Dorota. Now that's a perfect freakin' day.
Over and Out.
My love.

And how did I begin the week? Thusly:
At 4AM Monday/yestiddy I was awakened by Precious Jen knocking on my bedroom door, then racing out of house to drive her to the downtown train station and, upon surveying the bleak scene, stated 'Let's wait in the car, I'm putting my seat back, DON'T TALK TO ME.'
Then the train came and I sat up, we joked about her not talking to any more murderers on the train (she met one en route to Middling City) and I returned home for a nap. Upon rising a few hours later I surveyed the various cuts and contusions on both of my legs and thought Now that's a damn good baby shower = hostessed one on Sunday which throttled through the day from 2-9PM and (nearly) no ladies left sober, no rolls of toilet paper were harmed during the shower as there were NO GAMES and a mountain of gifts was dispensed to Deborah. At the end, in the night hours, a co-ed bunch of us (boys were invited at 5) sat about the garden, cocktailing and when we were cleaning up I attempted to pull a heavy market umbrella out of one of the tables and landed in a heap like a crashed kite, tumbling over a lawn chair and lying on the grass laughing until somebody noticed and came over to vertical me.
*Ron, hi. You said you are never epinw mentioned. Now you are.
Who else might not be reported upon at moments: significants, passersby, pals, irkers, the cursed, the crushes.
Deadline onwards.

Yesterday (in huge nutshell) was a diverse and perfectly chaotic day beginning with lots of coffee and ending with other refreshing liquids.
The other, crazier Jen is in town and this I know for sure as I collected her from train station at 4AM yesterday. I instructed her thusly: if your train is late do not despair, I'll be sleeping in a gold Forester. I awoke to a train whistle and peered through the misty darkness. There were many. Then Jen. Hooray.
Made us Dorota-style coffee later in day = any normal person would expel their intestines after drinking one or two cups.
But not extra-human girls with hearts and such of gold.
Picked up artwork from show, shot a bunch of daytime activities, freelanced at a college whereupon I met their small (of # and stature) first-ever graduating class, attended the downtown photo auction (where I bought a colleague's piece for a non-pittance), cavorted thusly, and oh yes... took Jen on a few AOL-related excursions to Niagara Falls and could not ((**%$)) locate any more nudie pens - the kind that, when you click the top, the man's drawers disappear like MAGIC. But Jen bought a pooping cow keychain for her man. In goes the belly and out blops the faux poop. A triumph!
Then later we went to another Wal-Mart to see if I could find 10 more pots to match the 20 other for favors for today's baby shower HERE in about 6 hours.
First I went into a plastic garden shed and Jen followed me in. We were hiding in there as I told her how beau and I got into trouble in that very same Wal-Mart for kissing and an old guy shuffled by and said THIS is a FAMILY store.
So as Jen and I are standing inside the shed with the door closed another geezer goes by and says Is there a lock on that thing? So we burst out and got on with the baby shower matters at hand.
Auction was okay but wish my piece went for a higher price, think Biff was right, they should be donated not under glass so you can see them better when they're on the block.
Ended night at The Plant, underground club scene, watching King Sunshine who combine a live techno vibe, disco/70's jubilance and street sense.
Off to pot plants, get the house shower-ready, have a caffeine, have another Motrin, think about waking Jen with a beer in bed, put photo items and delicacies away, chop up some fruit, etc. etc. etc.
Sunday love.