Cake is overrated. Unless it’s a cake made of cheese.

Mood: Older and supposedly wiser
Drinking: Plain Diet Coke. No Vanilla. Grrrr!

I must say, as birthdays go, yesterday’s was a fine specimen. It was foggy and rain-spattered with just the right amount of gloom. Which makes it more fun to get long-distance birthday wishes from friends and family and huddle with your co-workers over gourmet cheeseburgers and skip out to the theatre for a middle-of-the-week matinee with a friend.

And that’s just what I did. S and I took our fabulous selves to the theater for some supposedly scary viewing. (Ju-On, my ass!) We may have squealed a little and spit popcorn seeds but mostly we entertained ourselves by making the “ghost noise” at random and inappropriate intervals. It won’t make any sense if you haven’t wasted your cash on said movie, but the evil blue dead chick makes a noise like this right before she rises up and smites you with her bloody eyeball: “Waaaaaaaaaaaa-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-oh.” There’s some strange inhuman clicking in there too. If you gurgle a little at the back of your throat, you can get the ghost noise just about right and make random passersby think you’re having some sort of melodramatic seizure. Fun times.

When I got home (still making the ghost noise), Boy had laid out a fabulous feast of homemade goodness, including a raspberry cheesecake. You couldn’t ask for a better birthday dinner. Well, you could, but you wouldn’t get one.

So now I’m back into the non-birthday routine on an even gloomier day and not feeling one stitch older. It will probably catch up with me in a few months. Sneak up behind me and plant a gray hair or something. Because that’s how mortality is…it’s a sneaky, spiteful little bitch.

Next up, a fabulous birthday beach bonfire. Don’t you wish you lived in California?

-Lo, who may have heard a drainpipe make that ghost noise this morning.

Headache, Heartache, Hairballs

Mood: Crabalicious
Drinking: Water of Doom

Did you know that after a cat hacks up a big hefty hairball, it just eats it right up again? Mmmm, delicious soggy hair! I learned this from my friend and neighbor J just this weekend. I’m sure there is an analogy somewhere in the soggy messy to our everlasting arse of a world leader and how our country just happily swallowed a big load of sh*%, but I’m just too crabby to go there. TOO CRABBY!

It’s a gloomy Tuesday and it is creeping along on very slow, wobbly spiderlegs. I have two things to look forward to today: my weekly lunch with my darling S and going home tonight to boy and dog. Happy, happy thoughts. Keeping the crabby at bay.

Tomorrow is my birthday. For those of you who didn’t know, don’t send anything. It’s ok. I don’t need the celebratory cake anymore. Just morning wake-up calls from Mom and Sister and the annual tear-jerker card from Dad and a fabulous home-made dinner from Boy. That will be enough. Okay, and a beach bonfire party from all my west coast friends. And some lavish presents. And general flattery and pandering. FINE, I admit to being a total birthday whore. Me, me, me! Happy Birthday to Me! I hope I’m still this excited when I’m turning eighty-three.

Before last week’s Black Tuesday, my friend C and I took an impromptu road trip to the land of blondes and boobs to see my Sister. Much fun was had, most of which is none of the internet’s business, but I must mention that my Sister has the Most Fabulous Bathtub in the Entire World. So fabulous, in fact, that when you take a bubble bath, only the tips of your toes and your nose stick out. It’s amazing. I wanted to rip it from the wall, put it in my pocket and bring it home. It’s going to be a tradition…everytime I visit my Sister from now on, I’ll greet her at the door with “When can I take a bath?” Uh-huh.

Hey, remember that fabulous new project that I made some mysterious mention of sometime ago? Well, it’s in the works. My friends M and C are taking me “location scouting” this weekend. It sounds so official. Maybe we’ll even carry binoculars and wear funny hats. There will most definitely be some official-looking note-taking. And maybe I can convince M to make the little rectangle with thumbs and forefingers so she looks all Hollywood. Maybe.

In the meantime, I’m also nagging my WebMaster to make it easy for me to show photos in this space. Because me and the LeeLer dressed up for Halloween and the results just must be seen.

Alright. Must go hunt down magic pills for headache. I’ll talk to you when I’m older.

-Lo, who really prefers that you don’t sing the birthday song. (Just bring presents.)

Sorry, Everybody

Mood: Bleak, Black and Bloodied
Drinking: Deep Draughts of Disbelief and Dismay

Dear World,

I am so sorry!

I’m sorry that our president is such an obnoxious, arrogant, bullheaded idiot. I’m sorry that half of our country seems to believe that he is NOT an obnoxious, arrogant, bullheaded idiot. I’m sorry that even though millions of us tried to kick his self-righteous ass to the curb, we failed. I’m sorry that my country has just unleashed four more years of fear, bigotry, greed and bloodshed upon the rest of the world.

I am sorry that my country has become the biggest bully on the playground. I am sorry that so many Americans seem to feel that believing in God makes all their decisions right and just and good, even when they are horribly and obviously wrong. I am sorry that you will now be bludgeoned repeatedly with lies, rhetoric and mangled English. I am so, so sorry.

My small consolation on this devastating day: At least I live in San Francisco.

-Lo, who wishes her voice were louder.

Down with Bush!

Mood: Prickly and Patriotic
Drinking: Freedom Water

votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote
votevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevotevote

A Sense of Rising Dread

Mood: Salty
Drinking: Iced Tea

I am finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. The fewer hours there are between me and tomorrow (election day), the more prickly I get.

It is nerves. It is dread. it is a feeling of impending doom. And mixed in there somewhere is a tiny pinch of salty hope. Hope that my country is not as full of stupidity as I think it is. Hope that we have nearly seen the last of George W. and his smug, self-righteous, stubbornly wrong-headed ilk.

Begone, fearmongers and homophobes. Run away, you bloodthirsty oil barons. Shoo, fly, you pestilent preachers of my-way-or-the-highway-doctrine.

I will wake up tomorrow, unable to eat, most likely, and trot down to my local polling place. I will vote for hope. I will vote for peace. I will vote for a better, safer, less hate-filled world for my unborn children. I will vote against George W. Bush. With a vengeance.

And then I’ll most likely spend the rest of the day chewing my already-stubby fingernails into bloody stumps and hyperventilating. I cannot remember a time in my entire life when I have been so hopeful for change and so incredibly wracked with nerves over the possible outcome of an election.

I’ve always voted, since I was eligible, because I grew up a good, Christian Republican and it was drilled into my head, everywhere I went, that good girls go to the polls. And I haven’t been able to shake the habit, even though I started voting like a bad, bad girl — all Democratic and Libertarian.

But this election, this year, feels so full of portent and potential, that I will vote with greater pride and greater anxiety than ever before. (Yes, with more pride, even, than when I voted against that big austrian oaf, Ahhhnuld.)

And once that’s done, all I can do is hope for the best. And thank the lucky stars that I don’t live in Florida.

Lo, who thinks P. Diddy looks more like Mr. T every day.

Girl , you know it’s true…

Mood: Blinken Nod
Drinking: The thing with the vanilla and the coke

It’s just a Monday kind of Monday and I am currently enjoy the humiliation of li’l Ashlee Simpson on SNL. It’s like throwing babes to the lions to watch these little upstart poptarts falter and fail. And I do get *such* perverse satisfaction from watching it all go down. Much more than is healthy, I’m sure. Anyway. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, just visit this site: http://lipsync.us.nyud.net:8090/ (who the hell had time to build an entire site just for this freakshow, anyway?)

Also, what’s up with all these little sisters dyeing their hair brown and snatching at fame? (Nicky Hilton, Ashlee Simpson, Solange Knowles, etc.) Nepotism is everywhere.

One more rant along the same lines before I get off the dead horse: WEARING A PUNK TANK TOP MAKES YOU NEITHER PUNK NOR ROCK, BITCH! Come back and talk to me when you’re utterly broke, purple-haired, safety-pinned, snaggle-toothed and have the anarchy symbol tattooed on your dimpled ass and then I might not be offended by your glittery punk tank top. (That goes for you, too, Avril!)

Ok. In news of the not-so-Access-Hollywood variety, I had a scandalously exciting weekend doing a whole lot of, erm, painting. Let’s just say that I have always wanted a red room and now, thanks to Bruce and Carly and Lowe’s paint department, I have one! It’s gorgeous. And shiny. And red. I want to lick it, it’s so pretty. I never thought that painting your very own house could be so satisfying and so utterly exhausting. I’m now propping my eyelids up with toothpicks and it’s only 3 in the afternoon.

Hey, I’ve been getting lots of emails from lots of you who think the new web site is the bees knees, and I thank you. And I’ve passed your flirtations and flattery on to my web guru, Chris, as well. You can expect some new and fabulous entertaining devices on my web site within the next month or two…I’m working on a project (think music video but then take away the music and put in poetry and there you have it) with some friends and we should have something scintillating to show you soon. (“soon” being such a relative word.) But still. Something is in the works, just for you.

So. Stay tuned. And stay away from Ashlee Simpson and her lawnmower mullet-cut. And now I must go shoot up some caffeine. Or find new toothpicks.

-Lo, who likes lawmowers, but not mullets.

Inaugural Ball

Mood: Champagney, as in floaty little bubbles
Drinking: Diet Vanilla Crack

Put on your fancy clothes, people, it’s time to dance!

Well, perhaps you’re not feeling the celebratory vibe as much as I am. You’re probably all, “FINALLY, the girl gets around to updating her web site. I thought she was, like, dead and stuff.”

But I’ve been seein’ sneak previews of this site for a month or more, so I’m searching for patent leather tap shoes so I can perform a little dance routine now that it’s finally live and clickable. And before I forget, I must sent out a thousand heartfelt thank yous to two people who made this site so spectacular.

First, Patti Monaghen, who put up with a messy, just-moved-in house, a farting boxer and a stressed-out me for a whole weekend. She came to visit San Francisco, brought her fancy camera and proceeded to take a series of stunning photos which you now see all over this web site. I’ve known Patti for how many years now? …sixish, I think, and she never fails to astonish me with the world she sees through the lens. THANK YOU, my friend.

Second, Christopher Brown created my first web site, which I thought was pretty damn cool, and then he turns around and absolutely outdoes himself with this version of the site. I swear the only direction I gave him was, “I’m tired of red. How about some blues and grays and foggy colors” And badaboom–a day or two later he was knocking off socks with the stuff that you’re looking at now. I owe him many cases of rare and fizzy beers. THANK YOU, Chris!

So for those of you who’ve been hanging around for enough years, you’re probably wondering why there’s not a new CD or Book or Fabulous Entertaining Device being announced, since the web site is all shiny and new. Here’s the thing… although I’ve not yet given up hope of producing the Next New Shiny F. E. D. (fabulous entertaining device), I’ve also made friends with reality and accepted the fact that when you have to have a day job to pay the bills and you don’t know anyone rich and/or famous and you don’t have an agent to pimp you out and you aren’t sleeping with anyone in publishing, well, you just kind of have to do the best you can and seize opportunities when they happen to wander by. In this case, the opportunity was a fancy new web site with shiny baubles and buttons and things. So I made with the seizing.

I have pretty much given up on the CD idea…until I meet more musician friends, preferably local ones. Since I’m not gifted in the chords and crescendo area, I’m completely dependent on the rock stars to create the music end of it. And sometimes rock stars get distracted by shiny objects (or boobs) and wander off in another direction and don’t ever come back and finish your CD. Which is all well and meant-to-be and whatever. And just means that the next time the music/poetry thing happens, it will be even better because it will be more than a haphazard idea. At least that’s the theory.

Meanwhile, I have NOT given up on the second volume of poetry idea. I’m writing and compiling and trying to figure out the best way to do it. Last time was amazing, and Angel Skin is gorgeous, but there are a few things I’d do differently. Like get one of those bar code thingers so I can sell the book on Amazon. And get some sorty of schmoozy agent who can get the book distributed in some fashion that doesn’t involve boxes in the back of my Jeep and pleading glances at independent bookstore owners. (That’s exhausting!)

Along the way, I’ve been distracted by things like moving to a new house and adopting a dog (LeeLoo is the koolest.) and reading lots of books and learning to ride a motorcycle (her name is Betty) and hanging out with my boy (Hi, Bruce!) and doing the laundry and dyeing my hair black again and shopping on Melrose and watching Showtime and attending my sister’s wedding (Hi, Jo!) and getting new tattoos and painting my new house and buying skull tennis shoes on ebay. So as you can see, I’ve been busy.

But the poetry still seeps through the cracks and my pen keeps moving and ideas keep coming and so hope stays alive.

So. I promise to update this part of the site more than I did on the last version of the web site (Which was, like, once. Really. It was very pathetic.) And I hope you’re enjoying Patti’s lovely photos and Chris’s fancy web work. Be sure to check out my friends web sites on “The Others” page. I have cool friends.

Alright. My diet vanilla coke is empty and I must go find another.

Bonjour and bon appetit.

-Lo (who couldn’t tap dance to save her life)