Bipolar Blog

Okay, peeps! The time has arrived! Three concerts in two days. We're talking CD Release Party, baby! Got some damn good press in Buffalo and Rochester. Check it out:

From City News:

Leah Zicari is simply amazing. Not in a high-wire thrill-jockey kind of way, but in her simplicity and beauty. Her voice is clear and soft, and she really knows her way around the guitar neck.

There are a million people with guitars and something to say. But most of us wallow in mediocrity. Most of us aren't lucky enough to be as self-aware as Zicari, to live in wide-eyed wonder. Zicari successfully attacks love, loss, and redemption. But it's when she sings of the sweetness of a crush that she truly strikes a chord. "When you grabbed me and sealed me with that awesome kiss/that tasted like ice cream/and it seemed like high school/and I couldn't feel anything/except your lips as we kissed/and they tasted like ice cream," she sings on "Tasted Like Ice Cream". Remember when kisses still felt like that?

--- Frank De Blase

And check out these links:

Best of WNY
Best of WNY Music

And we got coverage in the Buffalo News Gusto section last Friday, The Artvoice last Thursday, and supposedly the Democrat & Chronicle tomorrow. Then the March or April issue of Buffalo Spree.

Now I have to back it all up. Can't suck. Must rock. We'll see what the hell happens.

Has anybody seen my soul?

I had it here......uhhh... Hm. Somewhere.

Did you ever have an important piece of paper in your hand and two minutes later you realize it's not in your hand anymore. And since you have no recollection of putting it down you have no idea where to look. So you look everywhere and you just can't find it. It's kind of like that.

Description: Gives off a blazing yellow light, emits lots of warmth. Filled with optimistic hopes and dreams. Last seen wearing Faith, Love, and Compassion. Goes by the name of "Happy". Deeply missed by heartbroken owner.

Reward.

I have to accept what?

I'm told the key to happiness is accepting where you are in life. And who you are. Accept what? A mediocre life? A life of bitter disappointments and failures? Accept that I haven't written a hit song, or got the big record deal, that the most people I've ever drawn in an audience is 65? That I'll never be a sideman to a great performer or teach the next Segovia? Accept that I won't do great research, invent something important, save people's lives, save animals lives, solve a famous crime, write a bestselling novel, try a precedent-setting case? Accept that if it wasn't for my mother I'd be living on the street? Accept that the only success I ever really had was as a process server? Woo hoo. I'm sure that was God's great plan for me.

Accept that in another couple of years I'll make a really great receptionist somewhere.

Yeah, that'll be an easy pill to swallow.

The Great American Circle Jerk

At least that's what I think about State of the Fill-in-the-blank speeches.

Some forked-tongued politician is wearing a dark suit and a red tie and he gets up and talks about how swell things are in the city/state/country, pulling on his prick the whole time trying to sway everyone into believing that his way of jerking off is the better way, and all the members of the party he belongs to jerks themselves off in agreement.

In the meantime, the frustrated opposing party waits for the subsequent rebuttal to which THEY can jerk off, because they believe that the way THEY jerk off is better, and besides, why should the ruling party get to have all the fun?

Certainly it is nothing to pre-empt "24" for, dammit.

I must be losing my edge.

Because except for Tuesday's rant on my HMO, it has been a rant-free week. What gives?

Sure, I have PLENTY to say about Bush's latest pandering political move on immigration, but really, why bother? When the supposed "Anti-Terrorism" President opens up the borders to a country that won't even take care of it's own people, and will gladly throw them out like yesterday's trash to become the USA's problem, just because he (mistakenly) thinks it will wrest Hispanic votes away from the Dems, what's my bitching going to matter? If Dubya Dumbass can't see the writing on the wall, well, who am I to give him a magnifying glass?

I'll just write a letter to him anyway. And send a general bitch to my Congressassholes and Senabores.

Like I said, losing my edge.

But maybe I'm not losing my edge?

Because I did just go on the rampage against a company in Washington State that pissed me off.

The short story is I purchases a service on an internet website and what they delivered is not at all what they said I was getting. When I called them to request a refund of my $14.95 the customer service rep, in a nutshell, insulted me, accused me of committing fraud, and hung up on me!

After disputing the charge with my credit card company and getting my money back, I then made up documentation detailing each page of my transaction (copied right from the website) and a complete explanation proving how the website was unclear and made it look like I was getting what they promised, but did not deliver. I made a couple of copies and sent one to The Better Business Beareau of Washington State. I also filed a formal complaint with the Washington State Attorney General's Office (with my documentation attached). I then copied the Attorney General's complaint with my documentation and sent one to EACH of the company's officers and members of the board of directors.

1) NEVER accuse me of any wrongdoing or illegality.
2) NEVER insult my intelligence.
3) NEVER hang up on me.
4) NEVER fuck with me. Because I know people. And if I don't know people, I know the right avenues to take to fuck you back. Hard.

Great News for Whom???

I got my Health Insurance Newsletter the other day and on the front page it exclaims:

GREAT NEWS!!! $0 copays effective Jan. 1!

So I read the fine print, as this cynic always does: $0 co-pays for Pediatric Visits, Generic Contraceptives, and Materinity Inpatient care.

Do we see the common thread here?

OH, COMMUNITY BLUE! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Once again I get to pay for heterosexual people and other people's children!! Wow. What great news, indeed!!

Look, I ain't got nuthin' against people having children, I'm just sick of paying for them, that's all. I never had children by choice, yet everyday I spend money on them. My taxes pay for public schools, WIC, DCF, Child Support Enforcement, Head Start, etc. etc., and now this. If people want to have children, by all means, but pay for them yourselves. Instead my premiums, which just went up 22% last month, are going to pay for benefits that I will never need. About the only thing I don't mind paying for here is the Contraceptives: It's cheaper to pay for that than the inevitable ensuing child. But still - I should pay for contraceptives that I'll never use, nor have ever needed?

I want someone to pay for my cat bills now.

One of the best birthdays ever.

Wow, what a great day! And so romantical.

Well, it all started early in the morning. And by early I mean 10:00 a.m. Because I am a nightowl and insomniac and musician, so don't question it. All of a sudden I'm waking up because Kelly was crawlin' in my bed to say "Happy Birthday" and give me a smooch. She had to leave soon for an appointment, so when I walked her out, there was a huge vase of roses, all arranged with baby's breath and all the usual flowery stuff. Very beautiful.

Well I had a few things to do, so I met up with Kelly at 2:00. As soon as I got there she said "Happy Birthday!", and in fact, said it to me all day long. She poured some champagne and gave me presents: Jewel's 2nd CD, Spirit, and a CD player/receiver for my car to replace my broken radio.

Skipping ahead a bit, because you all don't get to know EVERYTHING, we went tubing! As in careening head first on a slippery object gliding over icey snow hoping you stop in time before you hit the trees and die on the same day you were born. Hank the cool dog came with us. We went back to Kelly's and hopped in the hot tub for awhile. AAHHHHH!

Then I went home to get properly dressed for dinner. We went to this fancy-schmancy Italian restaurant, complete with a toupeed dude playing loungey piano music. Very swanky. Here's my fancy-schmancy dinner: Pork Balsamico:

Followed by dessert, which was, of course, chocolate cake. The biggest piece ya ever did see:

Wouldn't YOU like a taste of this cake???

Then we went to a club where my buddy Mary Simon was supposed to be playing, but she never made it into town because of the snow. So we had a beer and left. Kelly dropped me off and tucked me in, and gave me my last gift, which I ain't telling you what it was, because it's very personal, getcher minds outta the gutter, because it was something she said that put a few big chinks in the armor of this aching, steely heart of mine.

Special Birthday Preparations!

1) Shower ...check.
2) Shave...paying special attention to the pubes that grow from the bikini line to the MCL...check
3) Bleach mustache...check
4) Tweeze eyebrows...ouch....check.
5) Tweeze beard...ouch!!...check.
6) Tweeze tits ... OUCH!!.... check.
7) Shave toes. Ew....check.
8) Check bush for alien crop circles...check.
9) Eradicate alien crops circles and trim bush...check.
10) Clip toenails...check.


Sing it with me now!! "If you think I'm sexy and you really need me....I'm too sexy for this car, too sexy for this shirt, too sexy for this blog..."

Stupid blogger can't tell time.

Because even though my settings are for the EAST COAST, blogger still posted that last one on west coast time, making it look like I don't even know my own birthdate.

A Special Birthday Rant

Not that this rant is any more special than any of them, it's just that it is now officially my birthday, and that is very special!

Now on to the rant du jour:

Taking a page from the Bill Clinton playbook - who taught us that if you look into the camera, cry and say I'm sorry, then all will be forgiven - is Pete Rose. But I think Bill Clinton may have learned that from Jimmy Swaggert. But I digress. Hard to tell one adulterous liar from another....

How transparent is Pete's sudden confession? For 15 years he's been lying through his teeth, even though the evidence against him was STAGGERING, and he was found guilty in a court of law for TAX EVASION because he didn't declare all that money he won on bets.

But now, less than one year before he is completely ineligible for the Hall of Fame (players are ineligible after they've been retired 20 years), and on the EVE of the Hall of Fame voting, he comes clean. As if. To quote a certain person who claims not to like the spotlight, even though she has THREE PLANETS IN LEO IN THE 10TH HOUSE, "He's such a pompous, egotistical, self- righteous asshole. He's not sorry for anything, he's just sorry he got caught."

Amen, sister.

[Aside: Perhaps it's that Saturn in Capricorn in the third house that makes her not want to be quoted in a public forum...]

Back to our regularly scheduled rant...

And can we say "BOOK DEAL"? He's gonna make a fortune on this book, so he HAD to admit it, or nobody would buy the book. Who'd buy it knowing he was just gonna keep telling the same lie?

Pete: "I can't suddenly say I've been lying all this time. I have to stick to my story."
Publisher: "Your book and life are boring. You have to create controversy so people will buy the book. They don't have to LIKE it. They just have to PAY for it."

What a fucking jerk. Let's hope the commissioner has some balls and sticks to the lifetime ban, if for no other reason but to punish him for being so obvious in his attempt to manipulate the system and his fans, knowing that public pressure is a strong force. But what does Bud Selig have to worry about? He's not up for re-election to any office. Who cares if baseball fans get pissed at him? They'll still buy their tickets and he'll still have a job.

The Bitch Is Back!

I must be feeling better, because I'm ranting again. I feel another rant coming on soon, but today I'll just talk about My Clueless Mother, god bless her. For the benefit of new readers, I moved in with my mom a few years back when my partner of eight years had herself a little ol' affair on me.

Recently good ol' mom says to me, "You spend alot of time at Kelly's and she never comes here. How come?" Stating the obvious I said, "Well, Kelly lives alone and I live with you." "Oh, Leah, I don't mind if your friends come over. It won't bother me." Did she really say that? Does she really not get it? "Well, it's more private over there, mom." And I swear she said this: "What do you need privacy for?"

My poor clueless mother.

So today she says, "What are you doing on Thursday?" (In case y'all forgot, Thursday's my birthday...) "Kelly's taking me out for my birthday. Dinner, theater, Monty's..." Mama says "Well, that's the evening, what about during the day?" So I says "I'm spending the whole day with her, mom." And I swear she asked this: "What are you going to be doing during the day?"

Jebus, do I have to spell it out for her?

I'M GETTING MY BIRTHDAY FUCK, MOM!!!!

Please save us from ourselves!!

Once again, thanks to MORONS, the government has stepped in to protect us from ourselves. I'm speaking of the ban on Ephedra. Now, I ain't no doctor or nuthin', and I don't take diet drugs (obviously), and I don't have heart problems (yet), but even I know that ephedra is bad for your heart. Assuming one knows how to READ and reads the NEWSPAPER once in awhile, how can someone NOT know that Ephedra can be bad for your heart?

Shouldn't this kind of thing be regulated by, oh say...medical people? Why can't the FDA decide to control this drug, then make the use of it between YOU and YOUR DOCTOR, even if your doctor says "This is a horrible drug, don't ever use it, nobody should ever use it, it should be banned".

But why, prithee, is it now banned? It is blamed for something like 150-ish deaths (according to a news story I heard the other day). Fewer than die in plane crashes each year. Fewer than those who got SARS, fewer than those who have ever died from the FLU. So why are we hysterical about it now?

Because some sports-dude shmuck croaked from it. Not your grandmother or your daughter or your cousin. Not even your anorexic sister, who reads Cosmo and Young Miss and hates how she looks. Nope. Hail the almighty, deified sports icon and hero, the second coming of the good lord Jesus himself, who's a man's man and plays a manly, all-american sport like baseball, even if he is a half-wit who popped a drug without learning about it first (or ignored the dangers). Suddenly we should all give a shit, because your government leaders do now.

Where were the government leaders when Joe Schmoe was dying? Taking really nice kickbacks and campaign contributions from the companies who manufacture Ephedra, that's where. Busy passing laws that say we can't hold a cell phone while driving (even though we can talk into it or talk to a passenger). Busy telling us we can't smoke in our own homes. Making sure we're wearing our seat belts and motorcycle helmets. Because we're stupid and we don't know any better.

Not only is big brother watching you, he's holding your hand.

Bring tissue

I saw In America last night, and it pushed every grief button I own. Go see it, it's a beautifully told story.

This blog has been too depressing

So here I go, with another story that should crack your cracker-asses up!

Picture it: New Year's Eve, 2003, Rochester, NY. Kelly's kitchen.

Kelly invited a few of her friends over dinner, and before dinner we're drinking and such, and being silly, and there are 5 of us, two in their 40's, three in their 50's. And one of the women is Italian, like me! And Kelly, thinking she's complimenting the woman, leans right over to her and says "Hey Connie. Your mustache looks really good!" To which Connie covers her mouth and turns nine shades of red. So I leap in talking about the "beauty" of being Italian, and I'm saying, c'mon Connie, let's compare beards!

Then I ask her "How far down do your pubes grow?" and I jump up and start dropping trou. Everyone says "NO! We don't wanna know!" And I zip back up saying "Well it doesn't matter, I shaved my knees today anyway."

So now that the talk has turned to pubic hair, the older women start talking about how, as they get older, they get "thinner", and I ain't talking about their wastelines. And one of them asks "Who's got the thing where it's disappearing in the middle?" And I'm like "What? You mean like a reverse mohawk??? " And she says, yes. She's losing her hair right in the middle, and not on the sides.

To which Kelly makes the QUOTE OF THE EVENING: "Well, just promise me you won't ever do a combover!"