I'm a little crankypants, and no, it's not because I just turned 32. I love being 32. But bear with me, I'm strangely melancholy, and it will show in my hideously long and drawn out post.

I took all of last week off from my excruciating, waste of time government job to celebrate my birthday. It was a birthday week to remember. My best girl moved to Vietnam on Tuesday. Y'all know that was stressful and sucked, especially getting all of her affairs in order and her stress and happiness and my stress and happiness, so....yeah. I spent many days sleeping in, cleaning my walk-in closet of its mountain of clothing, and generally futzing about doing nothing but drinking tea and eating anything I wanted. Spent a lot of time with my husband, which was grand because he's going back to school in August where he will hibernate from the non-school world until December. Had many different birthday dinners. Saw A Scanner Darkly, a movie starring not only Keanu Reeves but Winona Ryder and Robert Downey Jr -- people who make me itch. Surprisingly, no hives. Worthwhile flick. Must've been the Dick...

My birthday week culminated in seeing one of my all-time favorite bands, Bauhaus -- back together again for what I hear is beginning to be a more and more stressful long haul for them -- open for Nine Inch Nails on Saturday, in the horrible arena rock venue the Shoreline Amphitheatre. Last show of the tour, and it was just ho-hum, nothing explosive. My fault, mostly, because I was so excited and what happens invariably when you are expectant and excited about some place like the fucking Shoreline but that you are bound to be disappointed in something. My two cents: I think they were just tired of being on tour and glad to get it over with, and it didn't help the show for me that I was in the second tier hundreds of feet from the stage. Plus, I was really blown away by how cool Trent Reznor is about his fanbase -- doing meet and greets and tour diaries, etc. I've heard recently that a bunch of folks left the Bauhaus message board because they were sick of Bauhaus being unappreciative and ignorant of their old fans, and I think this headspace didn't help me when I inevitably compared the two bands' fan engagement.

But...I did meet a bunch of cool folks from my Bauhaus message board, which was quite nice, and got to see them perform Double Dare again, only this time they were "acting their reaction" and looking like they were pretty into DD and other songs, unlike their reunion tour last year where it was often quite sedate.

Okay, and because I have been, and am, forevermore a hopeless fangirl sucker and rock and roll bitch for the brothers Haskins, here's a little video of God in an Alcove from Irvine, from a better vantage point than I had at Shoreline. Damn if David J doesn't tear it up and kill me with that bass, yo. Kevin is a drumming machine (and patient fan-meeting good egg, too). And speaking of, David J is still pretty good to his fans with his little handwritten notes in CD packages you order from him, etc., and with meeting fans in the seemingly rare cases when he's up for it -- though I'd be willing to bet we may scare him to death and/or annoy the fuck out of him as well as make him feel good and help pay his bills. The circle of life.

So, of course you know this was coming too, inevitably I am feeling guilty for being a complaining bitch when there are people dying every day in Iraq and Darfur for nothing, and I go and get my ass in a fit because waaaaaaaah, Bauhaus doesn't acknowledge their fans very well (god, whatever, please, so asinine) and my job sucks and it's hell trying to find a new one (but at least I have a job) and my best friend moved out of the country (but I am fortunate enough to be able to email her whenever) and my husband will be out of commission for months (but I get his undivided attention now). And goddammit what freak feels melancholy about having more than one birthday dinner? I bet my friend is right -- it is the sun in Cancer fucking with me. Or, more likely, I suspect that tidy answer will just substitute for actually sorting out why I am crankypants about nothing.

Enough! Here's something that recently gave me joy:



















Anyone who really knows me knows that in my heart I have a gay man struggling to burst forth and be fabulous. So this book has proved invaluable. I am learning how to say things like “All I carry in my purse is a tube of lipstick and a revolver” and “This place is giving me a rash” and “I need to buy things to maintain my interest in living” and “What animal died for this?” and “I thought she’d never leave” and “skintight gold lame” and “Get some therapy!” and "I admire your commitment to earth tones" and "What a tired old queen!" -- you know, the important things that I say every day in mere English — in 8 different languages. Plus, there's a pronunciation guide so that you can say it with the right bitchy inflection. Yeeeeeesssssssssssssss!

"Cara, in vacanza, ho bisogno solo di un bikini e di un abito da sera."

Upon reflection, so fitting, and what I need to remember.