There are some maintenance guys outside my apartment. One of them is loudly complaining about his girlfriend. I am way too amused by it.

Clearly I got cocky yesterday. I was all, "I feel GRRRRRRRRRRRRREAT!" So this morning I woke up with Shawna's cold. Am drinking neocitron, will go back to bed when I'm done for a while and hopefully wake up feeling better.


We're having an Udo Kier night on Friday. Oh yes.

How is it I can wax my crotch and not flinch much but pulling tape off my tit is like, OWOWOWOW?


Anyway, if you live near me (ya'll knew who you are. Like YOU, Mom) the Taboo Revue returns this Saturday. Twenty bucks gets you a whoooole lot of titties, my friends, as well as linax as Hunter S. Johnson. Oh yes.

TEH PAINZ!!

Had dance rehersal last night and today my back is like, "...why did you do that? What were you thinking?" I'm trying to hunch over my art desk (why is it when you go to scan shit you always notice all this shit that you somehow forgot to ink/fucked up on?) and it's like... NOOOOOOO. Ditto the sewing machine. (Although I did manage to make blue shiny hotpants after two trial runs. Now If I can figure out how to cover my bra, I'll be set. At least for one number. I think hot glue may be the answer.)

( Shorts! )

I has a slushie. I also have Phantasm and Rabid on DVD. Phantasm I rented solely because of this SModcast. It's fantastic. Kevin Smith speculating on him getting huge to the point he looks like that chick in the barn in Slither.
"Can I get a side chair for my ass?"
"What's a side chair?"
"Well, my ass doesn't fit on one chair, so I need a side chair..."

( Have some odd pictures. )

I had the worst martini EVER today. The last time I saw Diana she told me all about this faux-Irish pub that opened up in Scabbotsford where Shitty Limits used to be, and how they served this martini that sounded like the FOULEST concotion ever. She saw it on the menu and said, "I must have that. But I must have it with Mandy."

It was called the Oscar Wilde. It consisted of the following:

Absinthe
Creme de menthe
and Orange juice.

You ever brush your teeth and then drink a glass of OJ? That is exactly what it tasted like. It was a violent neon green, too. And it was every bit as vile as we thought it would be. Possibly worse.


(Yes, we still drank them. Every last drop. I busted my ass out to the Valley for this thing, of COURSE I drank it all!)

I am watching Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. Sweet Jeebus I love this terrible film.


(I got new fabric for the corset, if anyone was wondering. I am mostly done the damn thing. I am actually finishing it up wgile drinking mojitos and watching Kevin Costner's stunt ass.)

What do Ernest Borgnine, Tom Skerrit, William Shatner, Anton LaVey, and John Travolta have in common?

A little picture called "Devil's Rain."


The 1970s were a good time for Satan. He had a shitpile of movies - some good, some truly awful - all made about him. Guess which category this one falls into?

The plot (er) is basically this: a bunch of Satanist pilgrims somehow live some fucked-up half life in a town in the middle of nowhere. Shatner's family are their enemies, and most of them wind up melting into puddles of bubbling tempra paint. There's something about a book that Borgnine, leader of the Satanists, needs, and a bunch of people wind up trapped in what looks like a portable fireplace.

Shatner is in full, well, Shatner-mode through this one, and Borgine's eyebrows are the scariest thing you'll ever see. You also get to see, quite clearly, how the Michael Myers mask came to be once Shatty's eyeballs are turned into blank and staring sockets.

LaVey was the technical advisor, which made me choke on my drink as the beginning credits rolled by.

Watch it on YouTube!

Right.

When I was 13, I had to take a sewing course. The boxer shorts I made were used as an exmaple of what NOT to do.

Yours truly has a burlesque preformance at the end of the month. Yours truly needs a green corset. Yours truly has -miracles of miracles - figured out the pattern. The PROBLEM, my dears, is the fabric.

We're using this green crushed velvet stuff. It came with this filmy plastic sort of coating that we ASSUMED peeled off. It is not peeling off. What the fuck? Is this some secret sewing thing nobody ever told me about? Is there a magic way to get this shit off my fabric or will I have to just turn it inside out?

HELP ME OH GOD HELP ME


*dies*
Shawna just said: "Well, maybe it'll work better. We want our bustles to be stiff, right?"
Fuck that sounds funny.