Last Night's Makeup

Thanks to the lovely and talented Mrs. Squirrel for the rockin' props, and boy did I live up to that moniker last night. JC, y'all. How much do I love The Black Crowes? And how much did my boyfriend Chris bring the RAWK? T-Bone and I had a bang up time at The Backyard, even though it was 1000 degrees with 457 percent humidity. Luckily, the crowd was light on the Assholes with Cellphones count, but I think you might need to tell your mom to hang up the Bella Donna outfit because her free flying ninnies were drooping all the way to her pushed down head boots. That's kinda over for you, my dear. Like 28 years and four kids ago.

After finally coming down from the total awesomeness that was the show, I was sticky and stinky and DONE, so I took three Excedrin and hit the biscuit as soon as we got home. This morning, I woke up sore as shit from all the headbangin' and confused as to whether or not I actually saw my ex-beau at the show or just dreamed that I did (jury's still out). Also, in my haste to get to bed, I neglected to wash my face, so I woke up looking like Amy Winehouse's bloated older sister. Yow. On the upside, my frightful appearance inspired me to write a sad sack country song, and I just know it'll be a hit. So far, all I've got is the chorus:

You told me you'd be true
You said we never would break up
But when I woke up, I was all alone
Wearing nothin' but last night's makeup

Have a ROCKIN' weekend, y'all.