Where is the world is Rivetergirl

I'll give you one guess:

Rockin' our CD release party

Saturday night, my band, Riveter, had our CD release party for our new EP "Snatch."

Man, oh, man, what a great show. The place was packed ... packed I tell ya! And the crowd was awesome.

We had a great time playing and the whole night kicked a huge assortment of ass.

My mom, aunt and uncle had a good time, too. They said that watching the crowd was just as entertaining as watching us play and I have to agree. There is nothing like the nightlife at the Quincy Bar.

Introducing Markel Farkel Friday

Today, I'm excited to announce a new feature here on 'the Hell.

Dah, da, da, dahhhhh ... It's MARKEL FARKEL FRIDAY!!!

Yay!

Each Friday I will be showcasing a bit of Internet pop culture funniness found out there in the cyber world by my dear friend Markel Farkel.

Markel is one funny dude and he's been sending me the best of the crazy Internets for a while. And now I'm going to share some of those things with y'all on Fridays, so we start our weekends out right.

So without further ado ...

Now there's some good advice!

More poop talk

Just call me the poop mom.

On second thought, don't, because that just ain't right.

But do click over here to read the encounter I had with Margaret's teacher last night.

Yeah, she reads my Haute Mamas blog.

On family and rock 'n' roll shows

Last night at band practice, we were gearing up for our big CD-release party show Saturday night. We are focused on putting on a kick-ass, edgy rock 'n' roll extravaganza.

Yeah, we're planning on bringing out the big guns for this show.

Our first song of the night is a brand-spankin'-new cover, Hell on Wheels, by our beloved nasty girls, Betty Blowtorch. These chicks rocked hard and were so naughty, they make us look like Catholic school girls.

It's one hell of a way to start a show.

At one point, Kelley was singing about how we are "dirty, fuckin' bitches" and as I brought back to a conversation I had earlier that day with my mom.

My mom, who just arrived to spend the winter with us (yay), told me yesterday that not only was she coming to our show but my Aunt Pat and Uncle Tom will be there as well.

I have a great family and am excited that my aunt and uncle will get to see my band, but what will they think of all the debauchery that we are planning for this show?

I talked to the girls and Scott about this. At first we were all a little blushed about my mom and aunt seeing us rock our nasty selves out. But then I came to terms with the fact that I'm 38 years old.

I'm old enough to rock with my band and put on a good show.

Because, after all, it is just that, a "show."

So mom and Aunt Pat, we're all glad you're coming and don't be surprised when you hear us drop a gratuitous amount of F-bombs and talk way too much about people getting kicked in the ding dong.

A letter to my neighbors

Dear neighbors,

I'd like to explain that giant pile of recycling that is on the curb this morning.

Yes, I realized that mound of cardboard is big enough to build enough shanties to house a small city of tiny cardboard dwellers. And yes, I realize there is an inordinate amount of Bud Lite Lime bottles stacked in haste along my curb.

But, please understand that we missed last month's recycling day. I don't know how, but we did.

And then our friends kept coming over with their beer bottles and leaving them in our backyard (OK, in their defense, the bottles were full when they first showed up at our house).

Of course, I have to take responsibilities for the Bud Lite Lime bottles. Most of them are mine. I can't help it. I like Bud Lite Lime.

I know, I know, that makes me a one of "those" people. But, but ... have you tried it? It seems pretty fay, but it's tasty, really. Even our neighbor who brews his own beer said that it tastes good, so please save the humiliation for Bill and his "Surrounded by Nuts" pants, please.

Plus my mom is coming today (yay) to spend the winter and we're totally going to try to act more right while she's here (it's a long shot but you never know!).

So, as you drive by our house today, just at the other houses that don't recycle and be satisfied that, at least, we're doing our part to save the world.

Sincerely,
Your (drunken-on-Bud-Lite-Lime) nieghbor

Republicans get a kick to the balls

Sarah Palin is holding a rally at the park two blocks from my house. My neighborhood is cluttered with the cars of Republicans.

My husband and neighbor rode their bikes over to the stadium just as Palin was taking the stage. She began talking about energy.

Palin claimed that she and John McCain were going to drill, baby, drill.

To which the large crowd shouted, "Drill, Baby, Drill!" over and over again.

Really? Because 'the hell?

Margaret had piano lesson today and traffic in our normally uber quiet neighborhood was really busy. I reminded her to be extra careful crossing the street because the Republicans were all over the place.

Mar said, "What? Who are the Republicans? Are they going to get me?"

I assured her that they were probably not out to get her, but to be extra careful crossing the street.

Mar shouted, "Well, if they do try to get me, can I kick 'em in the balls and run away?"

My reply, "Of course, honey, just like if the Germans are trying to get you."

I think it's good for a child to have a healthy fear of Republicans and Germans.

Pumpkin patch season

Several families from our neighborhood took a trip to the pumpkin patch Sunday.

Among the five families in our 'hood, there are seven girls and two boys. If our neighborhood is any indication, we are about to be overrun with a nation of girls.

New t-shirts, too

We can't have a new CD and a new logo without having new t-shirts, now can we?

Check 'em out:

And here's one without Chub-a-lub (aka Ella, but all of our cats have to have nicknames). Cats just can't help themselves when it come to stuff on the floor. Chub's all, "Hey thanks for the shirts. I love putting my cat butt on new shirts."



And a great, big happy birthday to my mama!

Hey y'all Christmas shoppers

I know, I know, it's too early to start thinking about Christmas shopping. But have I got a deal for you!

The lovely and talented Cari Taylor from Wired Originals hand-crafted jewelry is offering Haute Mamas readers a deal.

Click here to find out how you can get a screaming deal on Cari's beautiful jewelry.

All-new Riveter stuff

Next Saturday, my band, Riveter, will be releasing our newest 5-song EP "Snatch."

We are so in love with this CD.

All five songs are strong representations of who we are. We are gritty and hard rockin', but also nuanced and funny. Sometimes we're even a little nasty (after all, Laurena and I try to think up nasty lyrics for Kelley to sing just because it delights us).

After almost 5 years, we have a sound we love, songs that rock and a whole new kick-ass attitude.

We'll be bringing all of our hard-driving music to the Quincy Bar next Saturday and plan on putting on one hell of show. We're starting our show with a brand new cover song of our most favorite band right now, Betty Blowtorch, just to get the tone set right and rockin'.

We are very excited about this show and this new CD.

Below are the poster for the show and our newest logo which rocks.

Oh and you can listen to our new songs on our myspace page and on our Reverb Nation page.

The songs are: Free Me, Snatch, Good Girl, Handlebars, Get Out.

Poop riot

I don't know if you read my "Everyone poops" blog entry over here, but the comments (many of which are mine) are pretty flippin' funny.

Everyone poops, people. Let's not get indignant about it.

Wordless Wednesday

Now I've done it

As many of y'all know, I co-author a mommy blog for my newspaper's Web site, called Haute Mamas.

I keep it relatively tame over there, mostly talking about my kid and parenting. But now I've done it.

I wrote about poop. More specifically, I write about how we should be able to poop with impunity. (I think I might get that on a t-shirt.)

Really.

Click here to read it.

I think I'm going to start a movement and call it Poop With Impunity.

This one's for you, mom

Yes, mom, that's our hall cabinet.

And it's organized.

When we moved into our house almost 9 years ago, I was 7 months pregnant. I was fat and tired. Moving day happened while I was at work. Bill and his friends moved everything so that I wouldn't be inclined to "help" (and by "help" I mean tell them what to do and then yell at Bill when he wouldn't do things the way I wanted).

We just crammed things where ever they would do.

I'm now starting to get things organized ... but only because my mom started it first.

Earlier this year while she was here she organized a big cabinet in our kitchen. It's messy again, but still way better than before.

And you know what? I like organized.

Oh and the hall closet's not all, mom. Wait until you see the front porch. We bought a book shelf and crammed all of our board games on it which cleared up a bunch of space.

Margaret's closet is next.

So, mom, we're getting ready and we can't wait until you get here.

Oh and a big hello to all the surfers coming in via Good Mom/Bad Mom. Jenny linked me on their BS Sunday for my "kick 'em in the ding dong" post.

Ah, kicking people in the ding dong ... good times.

Just another picture of myself

Wha'?

Jessica (the lovely gal in this picture with me) posted this on my facebook page. I immediately thought it would make a great obituary picture for when I die.

I mean who wouldn't want to be remembered like this?

Now with far less volatility

As I sat like Jabba the Hut on my futon last night waiting for the new episode of Project Runway to come, I asked Bill, "So when do I start acting like a bitch?"

With fear in his eye and knowing that my "P" day was imminent, he looked at me quizzically and pretended he couldn't hear me with his headphones on.

I persisted.

Exasperated, he finally jerked the headphones off and said, "Well normally it starts about two weeks after your last period, continues for about a week or so. Then it starts all over again."

Oh no, she's writing about her vagina again!

No, actually I'm writing about my hormones and how they jack my shit up.

It's taken me way too long to figure out that I'm a hormone driven beast. Sometimes, I'm normal, sometimes I'm crazy and sometimes I just mean (and not in a funny way).

And sometimes I'm all of the above.

Those are bad days for everyone involved.

It was really the monthly migraines I used to get that finally pointed a big, shiny, blood-red arrow to the fact that I am, indeed, affected by my period.

And not just with cramps.

In everything.

How I've been able to stay married to a good, decent man for all these years, and be all crazy and mean every month, I'll never know. But I'm sure as heck glad.

Especially now that I seem to have things under control ... somewhat.

I'm still crazy and I still do get the occasional migraine, but for the most part, I'm much more even-tempered these days (but still, I wouldn't push me because you never know when my crazy brain might snap).

I'm taking a drug that I affectionately call my "crazy pill."

And it works. I'm still me only with less nastiness. It rocks ... for the most part.

Since I've started taking my crazy pills, I'm more compassionate. I try to be kind and thoughtful in my daily actions toward my husband and daughter. I want to be with them all the time and tell them how much I love them.

It's like I've turned into a girl or something.

It's weird.

But I'm going with it.

That is until I wake up one day and realize that I've turned into June Cleaver and then I'll probably have to beat the shit out of myself.

But until then, watch me rock the positive attitude.

But don't worry, my sour-casm is still in tack.

Yesterday I answered a question Margaret asked me in a concise and positive manner.

Mar replied, "Mom, why do you always use sour-casm?"

My answer, "Because I love you."

See how it's working!

Cougar Grandma

Check out grandma hanging with the shirtless young men:



And why the hell not? I mean what else do you have to look forward to in your old age if not doing keg stands, eh?

Baracking out

Saturday night, Bill's band, the Wrong Impressions, played the Rock for Barack show at the Mesa Theater.

I love going to Bill's shows and supporting him (even if his shows always seem to give me the stomach flu the next morning ... I wonder why that happens), but I was bitter that I was going to have to buy a ticket since there was no guest list.

I was kvetching about that with some friends and one said that if I came, he'd get me in. And he did. So I went — yes, that's how I roll.

The show was really fun even if there were too many people wearing political t-shirts. Bill wore this shirt — which is awesome in its ain't-rightedness (see making up words is easy people, let's all do it).

Check out these pictures I snapped while simultaneously drinking Bud Lite (yeah, I'm drinking Bud Lite now ... what's become of me?).

Thank goodness for bike builders

I've said before that we have great friends. Friday evening we learned just how great one of them is. Margaret got hurt and Serg saved the day. Read about it over here.

Inconvenient photo op

Getting a new restaurant in Grand Junction is exciting. Getting a new buffet restaurant is wholly thrilling if your our 8-year-old kid.

Over this past summer, Margaret developed quite a love of the buffet. For the past couple of months, she always picks our local salad bar restaurant, Garden of Eaten. We eat there a lot because it's hard to say no to a kid that wants salad for dinner.

Although Margaret's salad is different than a regular person's salad in that is contains so lettuce, just vegetables.

Anyway, when we saw that the Grand International Buffet was coming, we were excited. Mar has been asking, "Is the international buffet open?" everyday for weeks. Luckily it's now open.

We took her there Wednesday. And we all enjoyed it (that was until Mar sat with a half-full plate of desserts and noticed the soft-serve machine. I wouldn't let her get any, because I'm mean). The food was good for buffet food, not too mushy or too tough, just good.

Then I went to the bathroom. There were three stalls, one of was out of order and one was occupied. As I approached the open stall, I noticed this:

The lock on the door says, "Nobody." I laughed — which I'm sure was disconcerting to the occupant of the other stall.

Because my curiosity was piqued, upon exiting the stall I turned the handle. This is what I found:
"Has th person" it reads.

I laughed again. And to further distress the poor person trying to poop, I took out my camera and shot numerous shaky photos of the door lock. I was trying to be quick before someone else came in and found me taking photos of a bathroom stall door. The pictures came out a bit fuzzy. But you can't really blame me for not getting out the tripod, eh?

Thank you CBS!

I work for a newspaper. At my newspaper, I do a lot of work on the editorial page (I don't, however, have any decision making in the content — just so y'all don't start asking me why we endorsed Meis or why your letter didn't make it to print).

On a daily basis, I am inundated with politics — all day long, every week day. It's my job.

I like my job a lot. But this campaign season — on top of a lot of other things going on in my life this year — has dragged me down, down, down.

I'm utterly and completely disgusted with our political system, politicians on the state and federal level and ESPECIALLY with this presidential election.

Both presidential nominees can simultaneously kiss my ass and go suck it.

Having said that I feel that I must admit that I did watch the first presidential debate and I was planning on watching some of the vice presidential debate (that is until Palin's nasal voice and idiotic responses forces me to gouge my eardrums out with a dull chopstick), but I was only going to watch the debate after we were done watching Survivor tonight (because watching a schmaltzy reality show where they have scantily clad people running around with their junk out is always going to beat out politicians spouting our their nonsensical rhetoric).

But then this morning I became afraid that the second week of Survivor was going to be preempted by the debate. So I checked the listings.

Phew!

Those in the know over at CBS had the good sense to push back their coverage of the vice-presidential debate until after their popular reality show.

And that's what I'm talking about, right there. Common sense. Fake "reality" TV trumps real reality. Awesome.

Wordless Wednesday: The bounty of fall