Okay, Christina Aguilera….I love you, but two words: long pants. I cannot believe how much her look has deteriorated in the last few years. And I’m not talking about the extra weight – there’s a way to dress a curvy body type. But THIS…..is not it. She performed at the Michael Jackson Tribute concert, where apparently they had no mirrors. (I’m sorry to hit you with this on a Monday, but I felt it was an urgent matter we had to address…..or, um, RE-dress…)

Christina (?) …..nooooo!

Now, on to happier things! We raised over $3,600 for The American Cancer Society with our annual “Bras Across The Bridge” event on Saturday – thank you EVERYONE who came out! And thanks to my girl Cami Kyttle for sharing her photos. You take great pics, babe!

Me with my adorable helpers!

Fishboy, Me, & Kelly K

this is me "conquering" the ginormous pile of bras….yes, I am an idiot.

We also had a blast at Fork & The Cork at Mohegan Sun Casino – THANK YOU, IGourmet, for a fabulous night!

Sue, Rocky, and I with the cardboard chef….and we weren't even drunk at this point.

Sue looking for meatballs?

When I was a little kid, my family used to fish a lot. It always bothered me to bait my own hook when the minnow or worm was still alive. Dead minnows didn’t bother me at all, but something about stabbing a tiny helpless organism with a rusty hook and watching it wriggle…..blech….nasty.

Notice the hypocritical aspect of that statement, considering we were baiting the aforementioned hooks only to CATCH helpless little organisms (ala perch, whitefish, trout ) and EAT them……but my point is this: I remember distinctly my brothers never being grossed out baiting their own hooks. Nor was my dad. My mom and I are the only two people in my immediate family who’ve EVER uttered the word “ew” .

Why is it that boys just have a higher gross-out tolerance than girls? You notice it first at random moments throughout your childhood – like in the elementary school cafeteria, when ALL the boys are chewing with their mouths open. None of them lose their appetite staring at each other. They all just act like they don’t notice. Even when chunks of food fall out and hit the table. MMM! Num, num, num, REGIRGITATER TOTS!

I noticed yesterday that my neighbors (three young GUYS) have taken to putting their trash out on the porch. I don’t mean bagged-up, ready to go, yay for trash day “out on the porch” – I mean they’ve got two big plastic bins of……garbage. Just sitting there. On the porch. And this doesn’t bother them…..because boys are nasty.

Now, I know this may strike you as a bit of a SURPRISE, but my area of Wilkes Barre isn’t the most upscale (I know – put your eyebrows back down). I mean, we don’t need HELP looking skanky.

I’m disgusted by this exposed trash situation, and I’m wondering if it’s okay to say something. Especially since it’s pretty much just fast food wrappers and half-eaten pizzas – what if we get VARMINTS?! I go to work at like 3am! I’m gonna come face to face with a skunk eating Taco Bell some morning and I’ll have no idea what to do!!!!!! Plus, it makes our whole neighborhood look junky. Maybe I should just bag it up myself and let them believe the trash fairy came……maybe they’ll take the hint…..can you tell I don’t like confrontation?

MMM…..Num, num, num, PORCH PIE!

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I GOT RECOGNIZED IN THE POST OFFICE YESTERDAY!!! But not for being me. For being somebody else. And not somebody nice (apparently). I was walking toward the exit and these two girls behind me yelled “You should be at home with your KIDS, b*tch!”

So naturally I turned to see who they were yelling at. Um…..yeah, they were staring right at me. So I’m like “Are you talking to me?”….. They both just glared. I swear to God I thought it was a joke at first.

But then….

The girl who yelled crossed her arms and got the most hateful look on her face – she stared me down and started this tirade about how “….YOU need to be at home with your kids instead of comin’ around Kevin’s house….”

I started waving my hand back and forth, cutting her off – I’m like “whoa, whoa, whoa….” As I reached into my purse and produced an I.D., I said “MY name is ‘Melissa’. I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ve never met you. I don’t know who the hell Kevin is either, but you OBVIOUSLY have the wrong person.”

Not even kidding, she THEN turns to the girl she’s with and goes “Sh*t, it’s not even her.” Then they walked away. Didn’t APOLOGIZE to me, didn’t explain themselves, didn’t even acknowledge my PRESENCE after that – nothing. It was the most surreal experience.

So now I can’t stop thinking about it. Should I have acted more offended? Should I have demanded an apology? For some reason, methinks the type of woman who would boisterously YELL OUT in the post office might not be the type who’s so incredibly generous with her apologies. Call me crazy. Guess I’ll just let it go. But whoever “Kevin” is……dude’s got his hands full.

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How do you say this to your kid………”It’s not that your dad doesn’t WANT you, it’s just that he wanted to have sex with your mom and then not PAY for you”……you can’t say that in a nice way, can you? I read on TMZ this morning that Edward Furlong is a deadbeat dad. Yep, the kid from Terminator 2. He grew up to father a child (and actually have numerous run-ins with the law – some of them involving narcotics, one of them involving a lobster freed from a public tank – I STILL think there’s more to that story…) but now he apparently doesn’t wanna pay for his child. This comes on the heels of Corey Feldman being in the news for ALSO not wanting to pay for his child.

Excuse me for saying this, but I think deadbeat parents are the lowest form of human life – somewhere on the species chart between amoebas and frogs.

What is WITH these losers? And WHY is it so easy for some people to get out of paying? For instance, in Feldman’s case, he was only ordered to pay his ex $307 a month because they base it on income, and he reported his income as only $1387 monthly. But the MOTHER still has to pay for health coverage, medical expenses, food, clothing, etc. – it’s not like the child’s tab stops running at $307 just because that’s ALL his dad makes, right? So how is that fair? The MOM has to make up the difference!

Also, how the hell is he getting away with reporting his income as only $1387 a month? You’re Corey Freakin’ Feldman – find a job! If you can’t get any acting work, are there no Walmarts where you live? Get a (gasp) “real” job! Do whatever it takes to cover YOUR share of your kid! FYI – that share would be 50%.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Lissa, you’re not a parent. You’re not famous. You’re not affected by deadbeat dads in any way whatsoever. This is true. But I was a kid once. And I was lucky (still am) because I have an awesome dad who works really hard. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to be the kid of a deadbeat dad (or deadbeat mom, cuz Lordy knows there are THOSE too), cuz you would obviously catch on that your parent is a loser. All I can say is – if you’re one of those kids, don’t take it personally.

Just remember that YOU have the power to put your deadbeat parent into one of those skanky cheap nursing homes when they get old. Do that. They’re so worried about being “frugal”? Show them you are too. Might I suggest that place they investigated on “60 Minutes”? You know the one…..with the tainted bed sheets and the “pudding stains”…..yep…..ohhhh man, I hope Corey Feldman is reading this. You thought that old lady in “Goonies” was creepy, Corey?

Wait’ll ya see the nurses at The Deadbeat Diaper Dome. Loser.

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I’ve always wanted to track my family on one of those “ancestry dot com” things. Here’s why I don’t: I’m afraid I’ll start digging in the family lineage and somehow find some Civil War era black & white photo of a crazy-eyed chick in a Scarlett O’Hara dress with my EXACT FACE……. She’ll be labeled “Crazy Cousin Edna” and she’ll be noted as the “one they had to chain to the wood shed”.

See, that’s what they did with “special” people back then. Whenever they thought you were a little weird (or mentally off kilter), they’d just chain you to something or lock you somewhere. Bam. Gone. Outta site, outta mind.

I submit to you that this is not a terrible system. I think we should reinstate it (hear me out), but only when you’re temporarily ill and you’re being a pansy. I had the supreme displeasure of being stuck with myself in the house for the last two days because I’ve had the flu, and lemme tell ya - I am miserable company! I never realized what my mother (and brothers and father) must’ve went through when I had mono, because even as an ADULT I’m a whiny, pansy-ass baby. Mom used to make me soup and let me set up camp on the couch when I was ill. She’d perch on the edge of the sofa and pat my head as I read comic books and watched Fraggle Rock. I soooo badly wanted to do this yesterday. Instead, I just placed several pathetic, rambly, pointless calls to my mom TELLING her how pitiful I felt, and how I wished she were there. Oooo yeah, I bet she wishes too!

I really do applaud my mom for not chaining me to the wood shed (and not JUST when I was sick). A lesser woman might not have been so patient.

Today, I am pleased to announce that I’m feeling much better! Done being miserable, done being whiny. For the record, NEXT time, you ALL have permission to lock me somewhere. Or inside something. I wouldn’t blame you. Because I am a draaaaaag to be around. I admit it. I own it. I look forward to future generations searching me on ancestry dot com and seeing “Crazy Cousin Lissa” with her femur strapped to a radiator and this confused look on her face. Yep, that should scar my grandchildren for life. And this pleases me. See, feeling better all the time……..

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Harvey was a dull man. His personality was often compared to a jar of mayo that’d been left in the sun. Not particularly fond of jokes, never one to laugh out loud, Harvey hated social gatherings almost as much as he hated children and small dogs. Harvey was often in bed by nine and had a strange affinity for khaki pants and ginger ale. He spent most weekends alone, talking to his Lord Of The Rings dolls and playing solitaire (the lame version, not the computer version….which is also quite lame…..)

This is what a boring person’s obituary might look like. This is what I’m afraid they’ll write about me if I ever say no to ANY invitation. For this reason alone, I find it physically impossible to decline when my friends wanna hang out. Lissa, ya wanna go for a run after work? Sure. Lissa, ya wanna go to a movie? Sure. Lissa, ya wanna go lick the all the toilets at Grand Central Station and then dance the watoosie on a homeless guy’s cardboard slab? Hell, why not.

I actually broke the cycle last night and DECLINED an invitation! Three of them, to be exact. I’m VERY proud of myself for doing so. I’ve been feeling like I’m getting sick for the last 3-4 days, so when I got these voicemails yesterday inviting me out for happy-drinky-funtimes, this little voice popped up in my head (sounded JUST like Mom – weird) that said “You don’t wanna do that. You don’t wanna feel like doodyballs tomorrow, do you?”

By the way, my mom would never say “doodyballs”. My conscience is far more ribald than Mother would ever dream of being.

But I am SO proud of myself that I said NO! Cuz I feel good today! No hangover, no scratchy throat, no cottonmouth mixed with remorse. So pleased am I with my exemplary fortitude, that I’m rewarding myself by going out TONIGHT! Haaa………what? Come party with me and my girls at Scranton Hardware Bar! I’ll be the chick in the half shirt with the look of self-satisfaction. SMUG self-satisfaction. Because I have extremely good judgment…… I don’t know why you’re shaking your head right now…..

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My nephew Benjamin took his first steps yesterday! I can’t believe I missed it! Actually, I can totally believe I missed it. He lives in Saratoga Springs, New York…… I live here. I miss a lot of stuff. Drives me crazy!

It leads me to ask – what do PARENTS do when they miss stuff like this? I mean, I’m his aunt and I’m going bonkers cuz I missed two freaking steps! Parents who work must have it a million times worse!

When you’re in your office breakroom today, and you’re accosted by a coworker who won’t shut up about their hernia surgery or their cat with the personality disorder – remember this: someone ELSE is listening to this crap AND missing their kid’s first steps. Maybe. Or perhaps their kid’s first word. ANY parent that you work with, at any given time, is missing something beautiful and unrepeatable when it comes to their children. I just got that. And I will forever have sympathy for parents because of this. Makes me wanna throw myself on the grenade and be like “You – go call your family. I’LL sit here and listen to Charlie’s story about the disgusting hernia AND his schizophrenic cat…..just go call your kids and tell them you love them.”

As a single person (who is also childless……I think….yep) I feel I owe it to the breeders to withstand the brutal torture of coworker cafeteria talk, as long as you PROMISE to call your kids whilst I’m having these inane little conversations. Deal? Good. There…. I feel like I just helped my fellow man. But so help me GOD, if the word ’oozing’ pops up….

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GO BENJAMIN! I love youuuuu!

I actually don’t know if this was racist, or rude, or maybe just plain weird…… tell me what YOU think:

I was riding in the car with a friend of mine the other day. Twas a beautiful sunny Wilkes Barre afternoon (see, in theater, we call this “setting the stage”)…..we passed a playground. There’s a group of about a dozen kids (varied in age and race) running, jumping, sliding, tottering, doing their adorable kid thing – precious!  My friend turns to me, and (almost as if one of the children prompted her to say this) she goes: “I’ve always thought black kids were waaaay cuter than white kids.”

Um…..arrrrrighty then. To the average person that might seem like a fairly harmless (albeit strange) comment, but sitting in the back seat of the car WERE HER TWO WHITE KIDS!!!! So I didn’t ask any follow up questions (even though I wanted to) because I was afraid she’d be compelled to repeat the aforementioned sentence. Then I’d be forced to explain to the children that “Mommy’s cuckoo. She’d display your class portraits much more prominently if you both had better tans. Hang your heads in shame.” Thankfully, I don’t think they heard her. They were busy playing with their Happy Meal toys.

So….what do we think?

Racist? Not really. Rude? Perhaps. Odd? DEFINITELY. But these are the type of people I’m friends with. THIS is why I can turn to her, and without fear of reprisal, say things like “Why do edible panties come in chocolate? Who would ever wanna eat THAT?” and I know she won’t judge me. Not at all. She’ll just look at me and nod with thoughtful consideration, like good question Lissa….. No it’s not. It’s an asinine question. Don’t encourage me. We’re both morons who need hobbies.

I’m dying to know if I’m the only one who thought that was weird…..

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There’s a reason Jimmie Dean uses planets in their commercials to advertise breakfast sandwiches. Planets don’t have heart attacks. People do. It makes me laugh when advertising companies try to spin something so obviously bad for us into being “tasty and energizing”. Like those cartoon kids who get all jacked up when their parents give them chocolate chip Pop Tarts. They high-five their cartoon mom and skip out the door like they’re on speed or something.  I can tell you quite honestly: I love my mother very much, and she made me numerous delectable breakfast meals during my tenure as a child – never ONCE did I high five her and skip out the door. Because I’m not a spastic dolt. If your kid’s getting THAT excited about a breakfast pastry, methinks it might be time for a trip to Six Flags.

See, this is why I could never work in marketing. I’d be the one making fake defibrillator sounds at the pitch meeting for Jimmie Dean Breakfast Sandwiches, and everyone at the corporate level would hate my guts. I simply can’t lie. I can’t say something’s good when I know it’s not.

I got put into this situation over the weekend. People CONSTANTLY send me homemade music, whether they’re in an unsigned band or it’s a singer/songwriter situation. I think they assume that since I’m a radio personality AND a musician, I’ll help them get on the radio…….. Iy-yi-yi….. If only it were that simple, folks. I won’t bore you with the “proper channels” of music, but suffice to say – it’s the equivalent of an invasive colon exam for your soul. Don’t do it. And don’t send people stuff unless they ask for it. Got that?

I know it’s hard. I’m a musician – I get it. You wanna share your music with the world. Cool! Do that. But do it by playing awesome live shows, writing quality songs, and building a fanbase from the ground up.

 I should mention that sometimes, even when you DO all those things, you STILL might get overlooked. There’s a distinct possibility that you’ll end up jaded, burnt out, and playing in a Pink Floyd cover band for sixteen people at “Dirty Gertie’s Roadside Tavern”. Why? Because the world is effed up. And usually the exceptionally talented people are overshadowed by the easily commercialized, idiotic poser people, who had the benefit of truckloads of free time and disgustingly rich parents. I’m sorry. It’s tragedy. But it’s truth. THIS is why you should always be doing your music simply for the love of music – NOT for fame or attention. Because even if you DO go through the proper channels and you’re amazingly talented, there’s STILL a very good chance that you’ll remain an independent artist for the rest of your existence. Come to terms now. If it helps, eat a chocolate chip Pop Tart as you read this. Chocolate is like aloe for broken dreams.

As an independent artist (and proud to be among the ranks) I can tell you – IT AIN’T SO BAD!! Nobody tells you what to wear, you get to write whatever’s in your heart, and ALL your gig money goes to you! Just have FUN! Play for the love of playing, and definitely fight the urge to cold-send your product to people (like me). It’s a dead giveaway that you’re a rookie. And kind of an annoying rookie. Instead, invite me to your show!!! Tell me two or three artists you kind of “sound like” and mention that you’ve written ten or fifteen songs that really mean the world to you. THAT would draw me in. Even better if there’s free Jimmie Dean breakfast sandwiches.

Sorry to be long-winded, but I’m very passionate about this. Send me your music at your own risk – if I think it sucks, I’ll tell you. If I think it’s amazing, I’ll tell you. But I’m of VERY little benefit to you either way. Think about it: do you reeeeeally think a girl with duct tape on her car and third billing on a morning radio show in Scranton, PA is your leg up in the industry? Hm. Guess there’s some additional evidence that more musicians should seriously consider college.

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Okay, so when I got the text from Rocky last night saying that Michaele Salahi (White House party crasher) and Neal Schon (guitarist from Journey) had hooked up and run off together, I didn’t wanna believe it. I love Neal Schon. Rocky knows this. And he takes a sick subtle pleasure in ribbing me every time one of my 80’s rock icons does something stupid (which is pretty often….. note to Vince Neil – QUIT GETTING DUIs AND BEATING WOMEN UP!)

So Michaele has apparently glommed onto Neal, leaving her somewhat shlubby and hysterical husband Tareq to fend for himself. Tareq, meanwhile, assumed she was abducted by vicious, nunchuck-wielding terrorists (as if anyone cares enough about her to formulate an actual “kidnap plot”) and he placed several weepy, rambling, frantic calls to authorities BEGGING them to search for his wife. Turns out, she was sitting front row at a Journey concert staring dreamy-eyed at Mister Schon, singing “I’ll be all right withouuuuut youuuu…….um, YOU, Tareq. I meant you.”

I mean, come ON, is there a bigger hosebag on the PLANET than this woman?! Who DOES that to somebody? That’s even worse than K-Fed leaving poor knocked up Shar Jackson to go inseminate Britney!

And now all my favorite Journey songs are ruined – thanks Neal! They’ve been transformed into easy punchlines (aww, Tareq & Michaele had to go their “Separate Ways”…..”Who’s Crying Now”?)….. I just don’t know how you could ever trust a person after they’ve treated their former spouse so cruelly. Neal, listen to me, man – you’d better sleep with one eye open! Cuz Journey & Nightranger are on tour together right now, and while you might THINK she’s at the merch booth buying a “Sister Christian” hoodie, she’ll probably be on the tour bus showing everybody “the secret of her success”.

Once a cheater, always a cheater. Once a fame whore, always a fame whore. Neither are good qualities. I hope she gets what’s coming to her. Something incredibly crappy….. like a Steve Perry solo CD.

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