February 14, 2003
Before I get to the obvious, I think something significant just happened - maybe a breakthrough. I was search online for some new clothes and I found a dress I really liked, but I said, "Too bad it's black. I already own enough black clothes." What?! It's a chromatic miracle, or maybe I've just read too much mattyweav.com. I actually think it's because I had an amazing week at the day job, capped off with a kick-ass Friday. I challenged someone to get some direction (that's not exactly it, but I'm not crazy about the idea of getting fired this week); I was told an assessment strategy I helped devise was ingenious and a model for other departments; and I was AT THE TABLE. That's right, THE table. Again, I can't elaborate, but if you see me wearing skirts, high heels and/or the color red soon, you'll know things are still going well. A professor I had a crush on in grad school once said that wearing black was a sign of transition. I'm sure I replied with something I thought was witty at the time, but what those of us in "the biz" would just call lame. Anyway I hope my transition through a just-short-of-passionate 3+ years is over.
I read through the first 100 pages of the manuscript Aunt Paula sent back with her notes. Yea! I can't wait to spend some quality time with Won't Get Fooled Again this weekend.
Now, for the obvious: It's Valentine's Day! My present from Curtis arrived, but I'm waiting until I can catch him on the phone before I open it. When I felt through the package, I thought it was shaped like a CD. It also had a mild odor like a CD might. When I shook it, it sounded like a CD. I took a big bite, and it tasted like chicken marsala. I'm stumped.
February 15, 2003
I got through another big chunk of Aunt Paula's notes last night. I haven't started doing revisions yet. I don't know why, but I feel like I should get to the end first.
I went to the pit of hell called the mall today and loaded up on colors (and a couple of black skirts, so I wouldn't go into a convulsion in the checkout line). I have a new red sweater and even a couple pink fluffy things. You know something crazy's going on when I delve into pastels. Just to be true to my KISSfiction self, I bought a pair of red boots and tried on a snakeskin blouse that I thought would go perfectly with some fake-Gene blood splattered on it at tonight's show. It didn't look right, so I might have to get wild and wear, um, black.
4 hours 'til Love Gun!!!
February 16, 2003
I finished Aunt Paula's notes last night, and now I'm ready to dig in. Can you believe my luck - there's a blizzard so bad my day job already closed operations for tomorrow, so I can work into the night on my delicious novel.
The QBF scored bigtime with my Valentine gift - he wrote a song for me! I love it.
Now I feel a little guilty for launching into my Love Gun story, but part of the name of this website is "living the fantasy," so let's jump right in, shall we?
Let's start with a little history: A few years ago, I went to see KISS in a concert that was being filmed for a Pay per View special. Before the show, KISS's road manager, Tommy Thayer, came through the audience, whispered something to a number of nubile blondes at least 10 years younger than me, and handed each of them a small piece of paper. Well, I was smart enough to know A) that he was handing them front stage passes so the video would trick people into believing that only gorgeous women attended the concerts; and B) even if I "look good for my age" I was not going to get one of those passes.
Flash forward to fake KISS 2003. Love Gun introduced a new Paul and Gene. I usually stand right up front at shows, but last night, I found a table where I could sit anonymously and take mental notes on the new lineup. After the first set, I got up to take my place among the real rockers, one of whom looked remarkably like Adam Curry circa 1984.
I loved fake Paul as soon as the band started playing the second set. Unlike almost all others, he's not afraid to make eye contact with the audience. I get a flutter in my stomach even knowing there's probably a sewage plant foreman under the makeup. It's all about the fantasy baby.
"There are some hot lookin' women in the crowd tonight," fake Paul began his first bit of patter... (continued)
You make me feel uh-uh-uh-uh yeah.
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