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You're reading an old entry from Michelle "Lexi Kahn" DiPoala's online diary, formerly called Jungle Sweet Jungle. Blog name changed to Low Budget Superhero in October 2005. Now I mostly go by SuperLowBudge. You can call me Lexi, Michelle or SuperLowBudge, or if you're my mom, then Shelly. Enjoy these old posts (except if you're my mom.) Please follow on Blogger at superlowbudge.blogspot.com. From there you can follow me on Twitter and some other platforms. Thanks!
I'd Rather Be A Bitch Than Be An Ordinary Broken Heart
(September 12, 2003)
I'm not not-updating because there's nothing going on. I'm not updating because there is so fucking much going on that writing about doing stuff would take valuable time away from actually doing stuff. My to-do list would make your bonny noggin rotate in a stomach-clutching manner. It's bad-- there are now people in the world who think I'm a lazy lout who doesn't answer phone calls or emails. And my apartment looks like a superfund site. I gotta dig outta this craziness! I surmise that in about two weeks, I can breathe. By then I'll have no friends and my cat will have started to make phone calls to find a place of his own.
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Title of today's entry borrowed from Amanda Palmer, because on Saturday at Nemo she gave me the advance of the new Dresden Dolls CD, and oh my god is it good. I mean it's...really good. It's been a year and a half since I first saw this band, and a YEAR (already!!) since I interviewed them, and I must say: I still can't get over the Dresden Dolls.
I wish I were a Dresden Doll. How come I can't be a Dresden Doll. You know she shaves her eyebrows off and pencils in baroque curlicues instead? It's gorgeous. If I did that I would look like a fucking idiot.
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I dated this entry 9/12 but it's really 5:47am on 9/13. You know the rule: if I haven't slept yet, it's still today. You should really come to the show tonight at the Linwood. It's rock-y. What's with you diary readers who don't come to the shows I book, anyway? I'd come to YOUR shows, yo. Hell, I'll come to any of your shit. I draw the line at craft fairs though. People who get really really excited about hot-glueing stuff to other stuff scare me.
Anyway....Linwood Grille, 9:30, tonight...
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So how come people are still saying "co-eds" as in "These sexy young co-eds..." usually followed by lots of tongue shots and butt-zoom-ins. Wasn't "co-ed" a term from when colleges were either all-men or all-women and then later when women were admitted to the all-male schools they were called "co-educated" or "co-ed" if you're into the whole brevity thing? So isn't this a really stupid thing to say in 2003?
Also, I never understood the meaning of "What am I, chopped liver?"
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Football season. Feh. Hey, you know what? Even if, like me, you don't give a wet slap about football, check this out. Shaun Wolf Wortis, ladies and gentlemen...all THAT and a master at Quicktime movies for his touch football website.
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Joe and Jennifer went home to New Jersey tonight for a family thing. "You'll have fun," I offered by way of condolence, because poor Shaggy is gonna miss, like, three fun things this weekend because of it. Tonight, for example, Brockman and Baldino hosted a...well, there's just no rock 'n' roll way to say it. It was a fondue party. I didn't get there early because I didn't care about having fondue, but I can swear that they actually did dip stuff into other stuff that was heating on a candle. "Dairy product in a bucket!" Laura declared. Indeed. You don't often get men who're confident enough in their sexuality to host a fondue soiree. Those guys rock.
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I left the fonduefest early, about 2 I guess. It was fun, but would have been more fun with Joe there.
I could kick his ass right now. Because he's been gone for like six hours and I miss him already. When did he gain THAT kind of power? That shit sneaks up on you--when you realize all of a sudden that you've been seeing the same person just about every night for a month.
What the fuck am I doing. If you know, please tell me.
"What if somebody there wants to know if we're seeing each other?" I asked him earlier. We had burgers for lunch at Whiskey-whatever-it-is over on Boyleston, near the Pru, where he works, or "works," because he can't possibly get anything done for being on the Noise board all day. "I dunno," he answered, "...just say 'do YOU see him? He's not here, I don't SEE him.'...Come on, that's a good one."
Shaggy always thinks it's "a good one."
"Really not," I said. And Leslie Neilson isn't fucking funny (a frequent argument) and neither is Charles Grodin (a new one that's going to enjoy several annoying repeat performances).
Anyway, I don't have an answer for that question. As proven when Olive Loaf (Noise board name, I forget his real name), at the party tonight, wanted to know "So how do you know Joe?" except he called him onlyone, Joe's Noise board name and also what he calls his solo music thing. "Are you, like, an old girlfriend?"
"I'm...he...it's...we...hey look over there, is that dairy product in a bucket?"
I just knew I should have prepared an answer-- goddammit Shaggy, you suck!
How come I have to spend so much time looking like an idiot? ________________________________
I walked home from the party, then called to see what Neil was doing. He'd said that he wasn't going to drive the cab TOO late tonight, but he'd be in the studio all day tomorrow. I told Hub I'd scoop the litter box while he was in Toronto (he's visiting his new girlfriend, isn't that WEIRD to think about?) but I hadn't scooped jack squat yet because it'd mean coordinating with Neil to make sure he was home.
2am on a Friday night might seem like a weird time to scoop kitty poop, but these are our schedules.
It wasn't so bad. Neil must've scooped but won't admit it. Too domestic for a badass, heh.
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You know, I never posted an update about going to New Jersey and meeting Joe's parents. I think I did write that I got the band a show on Saturday, August 23rd, but me and Shaggy drove down on Friday to hang with his parents and stuff. They're cool. Very parent-y. The house is like a shrine to a)the kids and b)Laura Ashley. "How come WE don't have that?" I complained to Hub when I got back. In Hub's house, there are two extra bedrooms that are never available for us to crash in, there are no pictures of the five boys or their wives or girlfriends...in my parents'house, forget it. It's like...ugh, just forget it, that's not the point. The point is, the Kowalskis are like, happy about having three great kids (Joe and Jen and Jim, who I also met that weekend) who have their own lives but are always welcome at the family home and have their rooms all like, there and stuff. Graduation pictures from high school and college, prom photos, little things they made and stuff, ("Jennifer took those photos" framed on the kitchen wall), and some of their STUFF is still in their rooms...I'm jealous. It's weird. "You're used to a guy without a mother," Hub reminds me, "if my mom was alive, she'd dote on us I'm sure." Huh huh. Dote. Maybe so. Well, my mom IS alive and I couldn't find my freakin' ALBUMS back home after I'd only been moved out for a year. We're talking ten years for Joe, and his Star Wars toys are still around.
Goddamn. MY mom saved NUTHIN'. Not a Fisher Price sausage.
This entry is too long and I haven't even scratched the proverbial surface of the Life Of Lexi Kahn These Days, but I have to go to BED...NOW...because I have to be fabulous tomorrow.
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