A Very Merry Crucifixion Tale


Hello nice people. Thanks for all the guestbook lovin! I have to admit, I totally stole my alien logo mama and then deep coded her (oh, hot) so you couldn't. That's why I changed my copyright at the bottom from STEALING SHIT MAKES YOU AN ASSHOLE LOSER to something more tame.

Still, stealing is wrong. I am wrong. See you in hell.

May I now introduce you to KissyKat, quite possibly the lamest matchmaking site in the world? I can? Oh thank you. KissyKat's tagline is "Where people who love their pets find love." Are they for real? Really? If you're so obsessed with your pet that you can't even resort to a matchmaking site without carrying it along, you don't deserve a match. LAME.

Happy Crucify Day! My drummer and I will be celebrating the bonnet holiday by recording all day Sunday, so I thought I'd take time today to tell you about the worst/best Easter ever.

Let's go!

The year was 1996. Totally last century, yo, but this is a tale that aces the test of time. I was "studying" abroad in London, and in between our February break and our summer break we got a one month April break. Naturally, I hopped a train/ferry/bus to the continent to galavant across borders with the magical L*ibbyLu, who was in Belgium.

We figured since we were traveling through the languages, and since it was April, we'd go visit the pope for Easter. Why the fuck not? We ARE his children and all.

We stopped in Assisi on the way to visit random remnants of saints. I started to feel tired and achy, and by the time we left at 4am for Rome, I was full-blown delirious. Turns out, I had pneumonia. HAHAHAHA!

So we got to Rome two days before Easter with no hostel reservation and a sweaty moany me. L*ibbyLu dragged me through the streets to a place where, thank God, they had a cancellation. Hostel-Dude took pity on me and let me sleep through the lock-outs for a couple of days. I was clueless.

I came to on Easter morning and heard church bells. Aw. L*ibbyLu went to see the pope. I think I went with her, because I have a vague recollection of standing in a swarm of people watching a little white dot sway back and forth, but I can't be sure of anything. She doesn't think I was there. Maybe it was just the pope of my heart.

Anyway, a day later, my fever was down, my aches were gone and I was in low-grade flu mode, so we ventured out into the streets of Rome to visit random ruins swarming with cats.

As we were walking under some arcade, me on the right and she on the left, both of us chatting away, I felt an enormous smack on the right side of my head, which knocked me to the ground in a moment of blackness.

I thought I had walked into a pillar, which seems like something people would do a lot in Rome. However, the people that came racing over after HEARING THE SOUND OF THE IMPACT saw a guy run down the subway steps with a brick in his hand.

That's right, someone came up and smashed me in the head with a brick. I was a little bruised, but it was amazingly not too bad. He hadn't thrown it or used the corner of it. He had sort of pushed it really hard into the side of my head.

Isn't that awesome? Oh wait, no it's not.

Anyway, then I went to Paris and got drunk. The end.

Happy fuzzy chicky weekend!

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Betabitch, words & design, so play nice.