Thursday, April 14

This may go down as the best show of the year for me. I know it's still early, but seriously, QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE rocked full tilt for two hours. Worst thing of the show: the cowbell was sampled. No one stands up there playing live. If Will Farrell were dead, he'd turn over in his grave.  Best thing of the show: delicious singer Josh Homme stopped a song midway through to toss the band's bottled water into the sweaty crowd at Seattle's Premier club. GO MUSIC was good enough to sport me for the sold out show and very tasty barbequed meat beforehand. As always happens, we ran into folks from T-town. SUPER HOT MAGOO'S BARTENDER JAIME was strolling through the crowd like she was trouble or at least looking for some. Hey, go drink at her bar. She rules. You never have to ask for a double, if ya know what I mean. Opening band THROW RAG'S SINGER JOSE PARADA FREAKED ME OUT. Music was good, but me no likey.

Friday, April 22

I drove up to Kirkland in the rain with JIMO to see SLEDGEBACK at Waldo's. They're like Social Distortion, but more party-style fun. It was raining so hard the freeway was slowed to 40 mph. I kept almost having panic attacks due to repeatedly hydroplaning. It was terrible. After almost two hours, we made it in time to see most of the band's set.  There was one other person from T-Town up there, one very SLOPPY DRUNK NAMED RACHEL OR ROCHELLE. She kept trying to put her arms around Gabi, Sledgback's singer.  Someone make me leave if I am ever that bad in public. No, really.

Saturday, April 23

Clearly, I did an amazing job of walking the fine line between stupid drunk girl and really fun girl with entertaining stories all night at Seattle's SPRING THAW. I was the only female most of the time, and when guys saw me they'd either yell "vagina!" or immediately scrutinize me for signs of "the operation." It didn't help that HANDSOME kept telling them I used to be a boy. Ever the gentleman, PROTECTOR BILL ran interference and insisted I was a real girl. Thanks, Protector Bill, you're the best. I got booted from the men's room at CeCe's, talked cosmetics and stocking secrets with DRAG QUEEN HOLLY GO "F" YOURSELF AT THUMPER'S and PEED IN FRONT OF A MAN AT THE CUFF in the ladies room.  Between trying to pass off glasses of ice water for vodka talls every other round and then changing the subject every time someone suggested shots, I barely made it to 4 a.m. It was not easy, let me tell you.  What were we still doing up at that hour? We were in the second worst motel room imaginable somewhere in the industrial district of West Seattle giving a statement to a trooper. After going through three cabdrivers, our fourth crazy, freakin' cabby decided we were from out of town and wouldn't notice that we weren't at the Sheraton. Yup, the number one rule was broken: THE COPS WERE CALLED. Would you pay $23 for a one-way to a hooker motel? Didn't think so.