Halloween 2007

Once we get Stonehenge mounted from the ceiling it looks like Moses’ tablets. Relighting imperative.

I have a big fit because the circus performers have hung a burlap curtain that blocks out one side of the stage. Club staff ignores my strident demands for action so I huff a bit and then get up on an amp and poke it with a mike stand until it’s jammed behind some wiring and no longer blocking everything. I feel very proud of myself but now the opening band The Hunt is eyeing us suspiciously. What, they’ve never seen crabby old bitches before?

Realize there will be very little space for the druids and decide to prop the one with the worst eyesight at the front of the stage and just tell him not to move for 45 minutes.

One person who shall remain nameless leaves a piece of intimate and slimming bodywear at the club and calls in to send Billy the lighting guy out onto the floor to find said item. After he relights Stonehenge of course. He doesn’t find it but we believe that’s bc he was under the mistaken impression he’d been sent to look for a bra.

AT HOME PRE-GIG:

Donna calls to remind me to bring the witch hats.

I chew out Drew for staying out all night and getting wrecked the night before and tell him that he’d better be bright eyed and bushy tailed by the time we leave the house. He assures me he’ll be most squirrel-esque by witching hour, then rolls over and goes to sleep.

Squeeze myself into police costume and curse my love of carbs.

Have a panic attack that no one will actually show up to see us play.

Keep thinking I’m forgetting something.

AT THE GIG:

Incredibly relieved to pull up and see a huge line outside the club and running down the block.

Realize I’ve forgotten to bring the witch hats.

Discover dressing room packed like an elevator full of sweaty strangers, broken cups and empty beer bottles strewn everywhere, and start shouting at people to get the fuck out. Bushy-tailed boyfriend shouts, “Get ’em, Honey!” Ex-girlfriend of guitar player says, “God, you’re a bitch, Raff.” I tell her if she doesn’t like it she can make some space too, but she chooses to stay in order to torment Donna for not remembering her. Guitar player hides.

Apologize to the girls for forgetting to bring the witch hats.

Sweaty lead singer from other opening band the Stalkers is already so drunk he’s verging on incoherent, tries to hit on extremely shy Gini who just smiles sweetly and looks at him like he has three heads. He turns to me and says, “Whisheso mean?” I say, “Hell, buddy, she’s the nice one. Now maybe you want to get the fuck out of the dressing room so we can have a tiny bit of space?” He too chooses to stay.

Electric Dave takes over stage door duty, thank you Dave.

Organize druids for big entrance.

ONSTAGE:

Druids! Stonehenge! Mayhem! Lights! Trying not to step on cables, trying to remember lyrics. Was that my line or Gini’s? Oops! It’s already passed.

Wonder if the cheap-ass police costume corset is bunching up and giving me a muffin top above my tiny skirt. Friend shouts out that my skirt is too tiny so I show everyone my ass (as per usual). This gets a big cheer and I hope distracts everyone from the muffin top.

Gasp for air with all the stage fog and suddenly remember that playing a full show is actually a fair amount of work.

Halfway through the set I notice some dipshit in a ringlet wig crawling all over Drew while he tries to push her off. I watch dumbfounded as she alternates between pouting over his rebuffs and new attempts to grind her crotch on his hip and wrap her arms around him. As I’m processing this I realize I’m in the middle of a show and pull my attention back to the fact that I have to focus on what I’m doing. Then I remember I’m the one on a platform with a microphone. Heh, heh, heh…When the song is done I shout: “Hey ringlets! I see you crawling all over my boyfriend while I’m up here working on this stage and you’d might as well just leave now because when I’m done I’m gonna find you and kick yer fucking ass. I got a bottle of tequila in the dressing room and a whooooole lotta fucking energy.” Donna says, “She’s not kidding, she’ll do it!” The crowd goes “Ooooooh…”

Varied psychotic friends who enjoy a bit of the old ultra-violence now and then fan out to enact justice, but ringlets disappears for remainder of evening. Andre J. and my girl Corinne lean on Drew and grin at me from the audience. Someone whispers to Corinne, “Don’t touch him!”

Show goes swimmingly, lots of headbanging in the audience, a small moshpit, druids perform expertly, no one fucks up too majorly, everyone has a blast, Lord Roadkill’s cord is only kicked out of the amp about 10 times. Rock and roll!

AFTERSHOW:

Wasted lead singer of opening band still in the dressing room, now wearing Gini’s Indian headdress. Guitarist’s ex-gf continues to harass Donna who pleads with her eyes to me for rescue. I interject that Donna’s senile and can’t be expected to remember everything and hand her a bottle of whiskey for comfort.

Imbibe afore-mentioned tequila while Drew cracks jokes about being married to the eye of Sauron.

Midget (little person?) from circus performers decides to get naked in the middle of the room, then flips out on Electric Dave for looking at her and tells Johnny T that Dave’s a little people pervert. Johnny T shouts at Dave for looking at naked little people. Dave looks confused.

Fabulous and talented girl who does acrobatics on a swing above the dance floor tells me she’s a fan and I tell her no, I’m HER fan and we squeal and get really girlie and take pictures together and swear our undying love. T’s so wasted she keeps poking her head in the corner of the photos we’re trying to take.

Some goofball calls me Joyce and then says I look like his ex-girlfriend named Joyce. As if. I sic T on him, she slurs curses and kicks bottles off the table and he wanders off.

My supermodel bff doses us with her special supermodel uber-mushrooms. She and her also-model boyfriend are dressed as Sid and Nancy but because they’re so pretty Drew dubs them Sid and Fancy. Since we’re now high on mushrooms this is the funniest joke ever told.

Wind up at Three of Cups licking Mike’s head (which tastes of substances) as he hops around with my leopard bag hanging from his neck, shouting “You are the greatest performer that ever lived!!” Drew says he’s like one of those toads you can lick and get high off of. Another incredibly hilarious joke brought to you by drug abuse. I realize it doesn’t taste that good, I’m only hurting myself and cut it out.

Dano blesses us all in his priest costume, which I find oddly comforting. I think he should wear it all the time.

Aforementioned shapewear item is found.

Miki shouts last call and it takes me ten minutes to figure out which side of my coat goes up.

Pets are glowing when we get home.

I get a message from Donna that she forgot Stonehenge at the club.

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Life is good. Thank you everyone for coming out and making it one of the funnest nights of my life. I’ll post photos in another blog once they’re all in.