roasted and toasted

Oh, people. I’ve got good friends.

I know I have good friends because they said nice things about me last night and made sure I had things to drink and brought gifts and the meanest thing someone could come up with about is is that we’re bad tippers.

To be honest, Eric and I have been wondering all day if we really are or if Matt was just searching for something to say. I think we tip well on food, but I get confused on bar tipping, since sometimes my drinks are comped or discounted, and I usually don’t tip by the drink but one large tip at night, but… whatever. Now is not the time.

Jon handled roasting Squishy. He discussed the security problems at pamie.com and how he decided to just tool around the directories (since I had actually given him my password about a month ago), and found out that some days I write the entries days ahead of time and just post them whenever I’m too busy. He said that he happened to find the entry for tomorrow (which is now today) and wanted to share it with everyone. Here it is, in all its glory.

What I love is how much Jon wrote like I do. “Worst. Idea. Ever.” and such. I was screeching. Imagine it all big on a giant screen on a stage. Beautiful.

I’m really only writing right now to share that with you. I’ve got much packing to do and a party tonight. Everyone is invited to the Bad Dog Comedy Theater this evening. And if you tell them I sent you, you get to see Laura House for free this evening. That’s the coolest thing ever. Come get a drink with us and enjoy the party. Because tonight is daylight savings, and at two it becomes one again and we party for an extra hour.

Oh, but I probably won’t have a drink with you.

There will be no more alcohol this weekend. I almost died last night, people. I don’t know what it is about old bosses in my life but they have this tendency to give me shots and crazy drinks and then I’m just sicksicksick all over the place. The last time I was as sick as last night I was hanging with my old boss in San Francisco last year. Last night I was the puking princess, sick in an alley, sobbing and wishing the world would stop spinning. I was nasty. I have dirty whore elbows (my nineteenth album) from leaning over air conditioning units, throwing up into garbage. I was hauled up the stairs to my apartment. All of my belongings are currently in a car in San Antonio. This is Courtney Love’s life. This is not my life.

I don’t like drinking that much, and I certainly didn’t anticipate getting that sick. But I tell you what, getting drunk and sad at the same time? That ain’t good, y’all.

Hello, water. You’re good lookin’.

And coffee? Go put your red dress on, cuz we’re about to go out and have some lovin’.

I leave Tuesday.

Oh. God.

I’m sure there will be an update tomorrow, as I think Monday I might not have internet access at all.