(...continued from)February 16, 2003
Fake Paul didn't stop there. He pointed right at me and said, "Let me tell you this f***ing hot broad in the red sweater here is making me crazy."
As a grown woman, feminist, professional, etc, I'm sure I should be ashamed that I loved the flattery. I'll try to conjure a little of that up later. Right now, I'm thinking "Good choice with the red." Any fear about the wink I laid on the new football coach on Wednesday dissipated when I batted my eyes at "Paul" and stuffed the two guitar picks he handed me into my bra. (Honestly, I would have put them in my pocket, but my jeans were too tight.) All night, he laid it on - comments about my lips and my looks. "Dr. Stanley," he announced like a hospital attendant during the intro to Dr. Love. "Please report to the broad in the red sweater."
Toward the end of the evening, as I felt like the belle of the headbangers' ball, "Paul" pulled out a pack of KISS kondoms to share with the crowd. Another woman in the throng of freaks crowded in front of me and held her hand out for the profo, but faux Stanley said, "I'm sorry. First I have to make sure Cutie Pie gets one," and he handed me a Paul Stanley studded rubber. At that moment, I realized what it must have been like to be one of the nubile blondes tapped by Tommy Thayer at the KISS show all those years ago. I also remember what it felt like to be me that night, so I don't think finding that shame I mentioned above will be all that difficult.
Red lipstick and flirty eyes can only fool the crowd so long, but a rock & roll attitude coupled with a healthy intellect will change the world. Bring on my birthday!
February 17, 2003
Snow day! This is the so-called Blizzard of 2003, but I couldn't be cozier. I used my day off from the day job to revise over 200 pages of my manuscript with thanks to Aunt Paula's editorial notes, and I listened to Curtis's sonic Valentine about 100 times. Yesterday, I was so excited about my CD, I made an mp3 for all website readers to download. Curtis, while fully supportive of my web project, thought perhaps we could keep a few things about our relationship private. If you'd like, though, I now have all the lyrics and percussion fills memorized, so I can sing/scat the song by request.
I spent all day wondering if I'd gone too far with my last entry. Leave it to me to send all my friends and relatives my Valentine letter with my web address proudly displayed, and then the first diary entry they'll see has things like "studded rubber" and "nubile blondes" in it. Just remember that "girl-next-door" comes before "heavy metal novelist" in the dictionary. Or something like that.
February 18, 2003
I finished up the last 70 pages of Aunt Paula's notes tonight. There are still several spots to go back and fix, but I'm making excellent progress. It was around this time last year that I finished my very first draft. I don't think the new and old look anything alike. I hope that means I'm a good writer. Even the difference between my last printed draft and my current electronic version makes me cringe when I realize I still have 3 more active Volunteer Readers out there.
I had a wonderful dinner with the Docu-man tonight. We were talking about our mutual editing tasks and laughing about that do or die moment when you have to cut or keep. Thanks to my Volunteer Readers, I've made some cuts that broke my heart, but they were necessary.
I realized yesterday that the luscious red sweater I wore Saturday night is dry clean only. Since I'm too lazy and cheap to follow the instructions, I'm resigned to the fact that somewhere around 2:30 a.m. Feb. 16, my coach turned into a pumpkin and I'll never look as snazzy as I did that night again. Unless, of course, Paul Stanley comes calling with a glass slipper (platform variety, no doubt).
February 19, 2003
Calling all Volunteer Readers! I'm in need of your notes. I'm almost done with Aunt Paula's suggestions, and I'll need more more more.
Tonight, the someday-famous-KISS-freak-writer has a cold. I'm all sniffly and shivery and sneezy. It's a sexy sight to behold, what with the pile of used tissues on my bedside table and the goop coming out of my eyes. My sister/editor told me last week that she considers me the femme fatale of the family. Let's add up the scores...
Heather: Running half marathons, hot bod, world traveler, funny as hell
Colette: Drippy nose, lanky, attention-seeking, KISS freak
Maybe she's right! I'm a catch.
God bless Curtis Earth. (continued)
Baby wants a vote
Let me go to the top of KISS's links page with your vote. Just click the cartoon Colette on the left to tell KISSonline.com that you love my cute little website.
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