Man, I am still hurting from the weekend. Whew. Especially my feet. I know it looks hot and all, but I really need to quit cheering in strappy heels!

Friday night was just major decompression after a wild week of getting the paper out, so I took the kids over to Jon's and after they passed out, his friends Shawn and Heather pulled up - into his lawn. Us girls drank some wine and girl-talked and the boys kept playing with the furnace. I was like, please don't blow us up.

But Saturday was the big night. I had been so torn over going to the Old Crow Medicine Show or cheering at Rollerderby. It really came down to doing what was best for the paper. If I had a chance to do a press meet and greet with the band and could actually shove a copy of the paper in their hands, I would go. If it was just to see the show - I would sadly miss it so I could cheer in the last bout of the season. I mean, no more fishnets 'til spring!

So obviously I cheered at the game, which we won by like a hundred points, it was embarrassing. When I first showed up, there was a minor freakout going on. The girls were missing their helmet panties, which they use to designate the pivot and the jammer. They have to be changed from girl to girl so their like stretchy things that go over helmets.

Well, they were somehow misplaced, and some girls ran frantically all over town looking for them. I realized I had a pair of regular baby blue cotton ones in my bag, comfy panties for later instead of the sexy ones I had on now. I offered 'em up - but ya'll - I have a big ass. Really. It would have been fucking super embarrassing. Thank god they found some!

The cheerleaders had a  bit of a crisis, too. Pretty much no one showed up. Partly my fault, I'm kind of head cheerleader and I knew when I took the gig that I would be uber busy with the paper lots of times, and told everyone that, but I think things kind of fell apart. But we made some quick salvaging, grabbed a few people from the audience like Abby Potts lol and even a dude! One of the girls that was missing had our pom poms, so we had to make some out of Bazookas!

Speaking of the mag, there's this cute fella I've known for years, name is Jeremy, and everytime I see him out, he gives me props on the mag and this look - this intense ass girl-I-would-lick-and-suck-the-skin-off-your-body kind of look....lol. Kind of gives me shivers just thinking about it. This time at the bout he told me that he's been searching for the photograph where I posed nude for famous photog Spencer Tunick when he was on his Naked States tour. Yep, in rush hour traffic besides the huge Louisville Slugger. Yep, dude said he's been looking for it for years. I'm like, Hon, if you really want to see me naked, we could start all this by buying me a drink.

I do have the pic, I think Spencer and I are the only ones who do. I might have to put it up sometime. It's nothing crazy special, it's tasteful (read not sexy) - and anyway it's my body from 13 years ago so it's really not even relevant anymore. I'm just standing there with my arms to my sides, looking pear-shaped and looking up and to the right. No biggie. You can find online where his girlfriend at the time Chrissy wrote in her diary about meeting me, and she drew a little picture with me over a waterfall surrounded by frolicking dolphins. Aw.

After the bout we had our ass-kicking afterparty at Duncan's. As usual, post-Derby bout there's lots of ass-slapping and girl on girl lovins, many shots to be had and backs to scratch. Met a very interesting young man who's into gnosis - which admittedly I have no time for the deep shit these days. Those kinds of guys can be really magnetic and passionate, but he's also one more dude who wants me to do a poetry corner. DUDE. I would go against everything I stood for if I put shitty-ass depressing fucking poetry in the goddamn paper. Fuck. And EVERYONE is like, no, mine's different. But I know better! It's all self-indulgent crap, and I know because I was a great poet. I won awards and accolades for my erotic poetry when I was sixteen.

But anyway, we all got plowed, I ended up giving a few booby hugs, danced all dirty to some Foo Yong beats, and even sold a couple of raffle tickets! Pat DUncan was my first, she was like, "Man, that would be a hell of a time!" The other was sold to some random older guy who just thought I was cute. So see? If you get in now, you have a 1 in 3 shot of making a drunken pass at me and a bunch of free food and drink! Buy some tickets people. If you can't go out that weekend, btw, we can just do it some other time. Like if you live in England or California, you can still buy one. So :P.  

In "holy shit" news, Ronnie McCoy has been thinking of all the coolest bands of ALL FUCKING TIME and just writing them and asking if they'll let me interview them for the mag. So far he's gotten Joe Jack from Dead Milkmen and now Ian fucking Mackay from FUGAZI. I know, holy shit, right? I'm like, slow down, we can only use one and issue, I don't want to blow my load too bad! (Even have a special guest possibility but can't let that out just yet!)

 We've had pretty good feedbcak so far, and I haven't even gotten them all out yet. I got a lot out Friday and Saturday, but the hours were odd and no one is open on Sunday (I should have taken Cory one a Flamingo but admittedly I was hungover as shit.)

Still feel like shit. Didn't get any sleep, my fucking neck hurts so bad. Use a bunch of Biofreeze and about chemical burned my fucking skin off. Was watching my shameful addiction VH1 last night, and I should just quit. Drug Rehab, Sex Rehab, doesn't matter. It's all about the awful shit that was done to you as a kid and the awful shit you did because you were so fucked up about it. I have a lot of issues with that shit. There are some dark fucking voices in my head. I was saying that I needed therapy on Facebook, but Shannon was like, "Doesn't everyone?" True dat, true dat.

Okay, it's time for me to hop in the shower. Get ready, go bust down some doors for ad money. Actually, right now, I just want to crawl back in bed. A warm snuggly bed that's got a warm snuggly body in it. Granted, she's two and smells like baby powder and strawberry suckers...but that's pretty cool, too.