Janet Weiss (Rock Drummer! Not Rocky Horror!)

I ’m on vacation! 4 weeks of doing whatever the heck I want!!! Not even through my first week of freedom, and my bumification is already in its intermediate stages…I’ve got a unibrow and dreads and I’m not even sure when I took a shower last! It’s really great! I’m even sitting on my bed eating cookies and drinking soy nog and listening to some strange techno mix as I type this! And I don’t plan on moving from this spot for a very long time! Life is great! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, back to business.

Today, I would like to blog about Janet Weiss. Saying the word “blog” out loud with a cookie stuffed in your mouth is funny! Sometimes, when my friend tries to show off all of her fancy French speak, I put peanut butter on the roof of my mouth and make fun of her and her French language. I can go off topic If I want!

Ok, NOW we can go back to business.

Janet Weiss….

Janet Weiss is one of my favorite drummers of all-time.

I had a bit of an encounter with Weiss in the summer, and I think she thinks I’m a little crazy. Ok, so I may have been lurking her out from afar….and I may have stood behind her while she obliviously retrieved her tom drum from the back of her van…and I may have been wearing a cape with pieces of my hair stuck to it when I approached her…and I may have run out of my hair salon during a very critical cut and darted through traffic to get to her…and I may have stared at her longer than was polite…I’m not cra…

Whatever, I got her autograph and that’s all that matters.

Another weird thing is that before I even went to my salon, I stopped at the art store right across the street because I suddenly felt like I needed a fancy pocket-size sketch book and a nice pen to go with it. So when I approached Weiss, it was just a little weird that I happened to have what can easily be misidentified as an autograph book handy.

To be honest, there’s something about a drumming lady taking command of her set that makes me spontaneously combust with lesbianism. There’s nothing weird or crazy about that, right? RIGHT?!

On second thought, maybe I’ve had too much nog…and I suspect that this techno mix is brainwashing me.


Tomatoe, Tomato /Manelli, Minelli

Liza Manelli

usually, my grandma is real hip when it comes to old-fashioned tunes. I remember when I was a young broad, she would put on Gloria Estefan music video compilations filled with favorites such as “Docta Docta Docta beat” and “The Rhythm is gonna get you”, and we would dance, dance, dance our Portuguese faces off.  Yesterday, my confidence in  my grandma’s music was questioned. Yesterday, my grandma fucked up.

She put on a Liza Manelli cabaret DVD.

Liza Manelli is cool because she’s insane (She still flaunts that camel toe like it’s nobody’s business!), and I enjoy her when the TV is on mute. However, the noise that comes out of that womans face really makes me want to…want to….do something violent and  irrational. Are you familiar with Daffy Duck? Liza Manelli IS Daffy Duck. She’s a drunk and she’s always spitting every which way.

Amanda Poag says, “That bitch is such a bag of bones!”


Once upon a time, I got stupid drunk and  sang “Fuck the Pain Away” by Peaches to my friend’s mother. My friend says that her mom was very uncomfortable…especially when I started simultaneously rapping and taking my shirt off. Ah, what beautiful memories I can’t remember. Peaches, who I consider the female version of Prince,  has taught me all sorts of stuff about electronic music, gender, sparkly/hairy things, and that conservative mothers really don’t appreciate her music or being called a fatherfucker.

Anyways, Peaches is hyper sexual, kinda gross and generally amazing. She also loves to give out free things like 35minute mixtapes…and I appreciate free things.


The National Hobo Convention

There’s a National Hobo Convention every year in Iowa! My friend Diana (who does weird shit like go to hobo bonfires in LA when she’s not studying Asian things at UCLA)and I were talking about this magical event where the hobos, bums and tramps of the U.S of  A come together and have a parade and name a king and queen of the hobo world. Diana and I are thinking we’ll go next August. She’s fearless and has the ability to talk her way out of just about any situation, and I can fight like a UFC beast, so I think we’ll be fine as far as safety and all that jazz. The only major concern is the train jumping part…


Homeless people are way more organized and awesome then they get credit for. Well, most of them. That dude who walks down K street flinging boogers on everyone just plain sucks…i’m a bit hobophobic when it comes to him.

My blog is looking mighty bootsy

aw, damnit.