A hole in my bitch armor....

Sigh.
I could use a little lovin' today.

Oh, yeah...

I KNEW there was something I wanted to write about. It just took me a while to remember what it was.
NO IT'S NOT WHITNEY FUCKING HOUSTON!! (see my twitter feed for my thoughts on her)

It's....THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND POLITICS!!

I know, I'm totally breaking my own rules here, but I just need to vent.
So
Yesterday I had to go to Mass for the second time in four weeks.  Yes, it did damn near kill me.  But this time was just so much worse that I could have imagined.
Yesterday was Sil1x's third and final child's Baptism, so of course, I had to go.  Sil1x, knowing my disdain for Mass and my busy schedule said I could just skip it and show up to the party, but I wasn't raised that way, so off to Mass I trudged. 
Found one of Sil1x's friends that I love, sat with her. 
Mass is Mass is Mass, we were having a contest to see just how many mints we could eat before Mass was over.
Mass goes as Mass goes - Reading, reading, singing, reading.....sermon....WAIT WHAT!?!?!
"Today's sermon is a recording by our holy and blah blah blah Cardinal George"
The recording starts, as expected, with a fervent plea for $$.  I half expected it to say "We accept all major credit cards! Vital organs! This shit ain't free people!!"
And then.....
The recording started going on and on and on how bad our President is, what a bad bad man, contreception is the devil's work etc etc etc....
I very nearly exploded in church. I was almost speaking in tongues, and not the holy kind.
WTF, church!?!?!?
I already have a million and one reasons why I don't go to Mass, and now, you do this??

Catholic Church has always been the textbook definition of an Old Boys' Club (maybe the original OBC?), but now - it's even worse than that - it's clearly Republican.

I'm done. Done done done.  Until another family member passes away, you won't be seeing my sinning, pro-choice, good hearted, strong willed ass in church.

**and off this soap box I jump**

Vonfessions Friday

Why, yes, I DO think I'm cool enough to replace pretty much as much as I can with "von".

Happy Friday.

Here's some confessions for you. You may laugh, you may cringe, you may remain unmoved.  It's all the same to me.

• When I first got a car, I wanted the blue plastic dolphin thing hanging from my rear view mirror. Instead, I had a mini disco ball.  Now, I have a devil made out of string. His name is Henry.
• I nap. As much as possible. Recently, I have been known to nap on a week night from 6 -8 ish, and go to bed around 10.
• I know for a fact that I burn my candle at both ends.  This has a great deal to do with two things VonDad said before he passed - 1) Don't piss your life away. check  2) Von has a pretty cool and interesting life, all of those things she does. check (#2 was said to VonMom just a few days before he died. It's likely the last thing he said about me. I can find comfort in that)
• I love love songs.  More than any other kind of song.  Ice cold bitch on the outside, smooshy romantic inside my earbuds.
• I cannot pronounce the word neighborhood properly.  And this is only in the past few years.  This is important in Chicago, because upon meeting anyone new, the first question is always "What neighborhood do you live in?"  I pronounce it Nay BAA hood.  I have not been able to correct this. I try.
• I choose to pronounce two words cutely, because it sounds cute, and therefor makes the words better and me cuter.  The words are buttons and mittens.  I very clearly state but-tons and mit-tens.
• I pass gas every morning when I get out of bed. Every morning.  This may be one reason why I don't let my "friends" spend the night.
• I'm in love with someone. Someone who is pretty much unattainable.  Hence I continue to make bad decisions in the man department, because I'm trying to forget him.  It doesn't work.
• I've had a song written for me (with no lyrics....I was pissed) and there exists a not small tattoo on someone's arm with my initials over a broken heart.
• I have an entire medicine cabinet full of nail polish. It's almost an investment, at this point.
• I will never EVER never start a post with this "In which....:" it's like nails on a fucking chalk board to me. Freddy Krueger nails on a fucking chalk board. 
• I have an irrational fear of lions, and a very rational fear of raccoons.  Both are out to get me. Only me.  The rest of you are totally safe.  It's so bad I cannot go to the zoo. I just know the lions will know I'm there and bust out and eat me.

New Favorite Song, two ways.

Totally breaking a sweat AND totally cat vacuuming.
But, if I don't share things like this with y'all, it's like it doesn't matter.
So, this is the song I'm learning in guitar class. AND it's my new favorite song.
So, I give you the original (recorded at my happy place, the Old Town School), and because of my non-ending love for all things Michael Stipe, I give you his version with those asshats from Coldplay.  I will forgive Michael Stipe anything.

Such a great song. I'm excited and honored to play it.....enjoy.....

Lyrically, so much going on. Sigh. I love this song.....

My opinion

I was really looking forward to mocking Madonna.
I had thought that she would screech her way through some random crap while showing off her weirdly shaped chicken arms.

Man, was I wrong.

I actually dug her performance, a lot.  Sure, I kinda hate LMFAO and those two chicks, and CeeLo is meh.  But I thought that Madonna was kickin'.

I was a little put off, at first, with the partial lip syncing, until she started to throw down on the dance moves.  I can't even stand up in heels, and she was all over the place.
And, her scary chicken arms were all covered up.

I still think she's a stone cold bitch for the way she treats the general public - remember the flower incident? - but the show was what it was supposed to be, entertaining.

Plus, I think she looked downright giddy to be there. Nice to see something can still shake her ice queen veneer.

Kinda think lots of us need this today.....

Rest your head, you worry too much
It's gonna be alright, when times get rough
You can fall back on us
Don't give up
Please don't give up

A class act

I know I told you readers about my going to the Sister Hazel show at HOB in December.
The part I left out?
That's today's story.

I always "rent" a bar stool at HOB concerts these days.  The shows are too long for me to be standing. For the Sister Hazel show, I ended up with the best bar stool in the house (or so I thought). I was seat A, stage right. So, like the first seat right next to the stage. I was ecstatic.
Until
During the lull between opening act 1 and opening act 2, the people who had the two bar stools next to me showed up.
Sure, they were clearly white trash, but I don't let that kind of stuff bother me.
What bothered me, then?
When WT lady said (at the top of her lungs):
"OH MY GOD!! IT'S SO UNFAIR!!! I HAVE TO SIT NEXT TO THE FAT CHICK!!!"
Readers, I am not thin, but I know for damn sure that my ass fits wholly and securely on my own damn bar stool. I don't take up any more space than anyone else, really.
The entire evening the ugly comments continued.  I heard then, my friends heard them, complete strangers heard them, the bartender heard them (and gave me a free beer) - you get the point.

I know what you're thinking - 'Why, Von, being the bad ass that you are, that you didn't take care of business?!?!?'
Because
If I had verbally sparred with her, I would have won and likely been kicked out of the show in the process. If I had physically sparred with her and her husband, I would have one, and absolutely been kicked out.
I paid $86 to see my favorite band live, who I hadn't seen in over a year, I was NOT getting kicked out.
So, the vitriol continued, until mid Sister Hazel when they were too drunk to keep their heads up so they left. Of course a parting shot:
"YOU CAN HAVE OUR SEATS, IF YOU THINK YOU CAN FIT THERE!!!"
The couple she offered her seats to declined, and I'm pretty sure the wife called her a bitch.
And the rest of the night continued.
I was no worse for the wear - trust me, I have the confidence of a super model.

What stayed with me was just the awfulness of it.  I was mad - more mad that I couldn't do anything about it, and mad that it happened there, in a happy chill place.

So, I sent the greatest email of my entire life to customer services at the HOB.
I mean, the greatest.  The subject line was The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.  First, I complimented the staff I talked to that night, because everyone was amazing. I thanked them for having the bar stool option. Then, I launched in to "the incident".  I spent a good part of the email explaining that I know with my whole heart that HOB was NOT to blame, I just wanted to make them aware.

Two days later - I receive a phone call from E, who is the executive assistant to the GM.  We had a long talk about the incident.  She won me over when she said "I'm sorry, but I can't believe you didn't punch her in the face"
She told me that the next time I visit the HOB, I should let her know so we can meet.

Monday night, I met one of my sisters there for dinner.  I had called E and let her know we would be there.
Walk in - give name- host says "Oh! Von! There you are! You're a friend of E's!"
 We had a fantastic meal, with a complimentary dessert provided by E.  She came and sat with us for a good 20 minutes and we talked.   She's a very sweet, down to earth, professional chick. 
As she was leaving, she let me know that I should call her every time I'm going to be at the HOB. She also said that she had my number, and that she'd be calling me too.

Now - there you have it.  The whole thing - 100% of it, House of Blues was NOT to blame.  The security guard, the bartenders, everyone was wonderful.  They cannot control who visits their establishment. 
But the way they are treating me - like this is a big deal to them, and they are so not happy that it happened there, and that they want to make sure I am happy and a returning customer - they are 100% a class act.  I will absolutely continue to spend my money there.  I will absolutely not start fights with any horrible people there. Well, not inside, anyway.