a collection of thoughts written through out the day.


I am tired. Tired. Tired. Tired. That is what I get for starting off my morning with 1.5 bloody marys. Note to self: be sure to eat something when you start drinking at 9am. After 28 years, a degree from prestigious university and touring with various punk/ska bands, you think I might be able to figure out that food comes before alcohol. No such luck. Age does not equal intelligence.

It’s snowing!!! Winter has finally returned. No more wussy, pussy warm spring like winter. Frozen fingers, nose and toes here I come!!

At work, I have been asked to listen to a bunch of punk bands and pick which ones would be good for a promotion for one of our clients. Never would have I thought this would happen. If someone came up to me when I was sixteen and told me that someday my expertise in punk music would help me in my job, I would have rolled my eyes and told them to fuck off. But 12 years later, here I am being paid by corporate America to share my knowledge of the “alternative”. Uh, huh.

Thinking about it now, it is strange that while in high school I receive a double dose of education. I was learning English, geometry and physics during the day and absorbing the in-and-outs of the punk scene during the evenings and weekends. Through my boyfriend, Scot, I learned about punk music by sitting in his basement listening to Jawbreaker, Screeching Weasel, Green Day and Pegboy. He took me to punk shows at McGregors, the Metro or various local VWF halls, exposing me to the intricacies of the mosh pit and the complexities of the social scene at clubs. Now, all this education is being put into play and used by corporate clients who don’t know GG Allen from Joey Ramone. Bet that the punks in 1970s London never thought their scene would be used to sell everything from tampons to bologna. Ah, capitalism.