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Libbi Sez:

I am having a moment because I am sitting here eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That in itself is no surprise, but for some bizarre reason I bought a loaf of Wonderbread at the store and it's bringing back memories of sitting at the table with peanut butter and jelly on Wonderbread, a Tab with a pull top, and frozen chicken pot pies.

Y'know, I've been to all the big cities; Paris, Rome, Athens (the real ones), so how did I end up in Seguin, eating PB&J? By choice of course. I remember when I was deciding between moving to NYC or Tokyo when I was about 18 (I chose NYC). And now here I am eating Wonderbread in Seguin. And I do love Seguin; the folks are. And thanks to the movie The Alamo, when I call customer service for my cell phone service in Delaware or Dakota, they won't stumble all over the name of the town (most pronounce it "sequin" because if they see The Alamo they will now know the name Juan Seguin, who fought at the Alamo, but was spared because he was ordered to leave and bring back reinforcements. That is the Seguin I live in. With a beautiful river running through it. A multi-cultural town of good old boys but not rednecks. Ranchers, etc. We often see wildlife on our street (remember I told y'all about the longhorn walking down my street?). A hawk comes around to our tree in the front yard, probably hoping I left my cat outside. Owls--ditto. Last month we had a couple nights of coyotes yipping nearby--probably hoping I left the DOG out Wild turkeys hang out behind our house sometimes, and last week my husband saw just one hauling ass up our street.

Speaking of wildlife, a week ago our neighbor across the street had a rattlesnake in their driveway (we get it all down here) and they chopped it with a hoe and broke it's back but it was still alive so my husband put him out of his misery with one of his many shooting implements. Okay, I can understand the mind of a hunter--skin all dead animals and hang them to dry in the front yard and cure it with salt, what else? But imagine my surprise when my 6 year old is telling me what the rattlesnake's brains looked like and the shock on my face when I open the freezer and see it there--looking like a two foot albino turd. One thin about the GOOD good old boys; if they kill it, they eat it. I just hope my husband doesn't adopt that approach with cockroaches. And don't worry, Betty Cracker ain't cooking no rattlesnake! Which brings me to another memory of my brothers catching rattlers and cutting off the rattles. I had a small collection as a girl. No wonder I'm such a tomboy ('cept when I'm singing--then I'm a tramp!).

I may start a little combo soon. Not to jump on the Norah Jones bandwagon, but I have real trouble wit diphthongs, when one vowel moves into the next, and it's very exaggerated in country music (for me anyway). I start to lose control of my voice. So, I may prop myself up again on the stage and quietly try to make something happen again. We'll see. My voice is still iffy but then what isn't, right?

Libbi
April 14, 2004

Libbi Sez:

This, my friends, is a real woman:

(Reuters) -- A pregnant woman in Mexico gave birth to a healthy baby boy after performing a caesarean section on herself with a kitchen knife, doctors said on Tuesday.

It is thought to be the first known case of a self-inflicted caesarean in which both the mother and baby survived.

The unidentified 40-year-old, who lived in a rural area without electricity, running water or sanitation that was an eight-hour drive from the nearest hospital, performed the operation when she could not deliver the baby naturally.

She had lost a previous baby due to labor complications.

"She took three small glasses of hard liquor and, using a kitchen knife, sliced her abdomen in three attempts...and delivered a male infant that breathed immediately and cried," said Dr R.F. Valle, of the Dr Manuel Velasco Suarez Hospital in San Pablo, Mexico.

Valle recounted the event in a report in the International Journal of Gynecology and Obstetrics.

Before losing consciousness the woman told one of her children to call a local nurse for help. After the nurse stitched the wound with a sewing needle and cotton thread, the mother and baby were transferred and treated by Valle and his colleagues at the nearest hospital.

"This case represents an unusual and extraordinary decision by a women in labour who, unable to deliver herself spontaneously, and with no medical help or resources, decided to perform a caesarean section upon herself," Valle said.

He added that a mother's instinct to save her child can move a woman to perform extraordinary acts but said it would not have been necessary if adequate medical care had been available.

*********

All I have to say is:
I bow down to this woman;
Holy crap;
I hope it didn't have a serrated edge (the knife)
Ow;

And next time I complain about a headache I'm taking three shots of hard liquor and doing brain surgery on myself (if I can find it), just to one up her. Dare I say Ay-Chi-Wa-Wa.

Libbi
April something or other, 2004

Libbi Sez:

About 20 years ago in NYC, I was getting off the bus near my house and I saw a pigeon with a broken wing. I knew this pigeon would be crushed as soon as the next bus came along, so I got a box and put it in the box, called a vet that was going to charge me, but would at least try to mend it. Okay, is this reminding you of the Seinfeld squirrel episode? Anyhoo. The bird died in transit (literal, as I was on a cross-town bus). I felt like I somehow let this bird down. Keep in mind this is someone who is now married to a gun-toting, fish catching, snake eatin', bow-huntin' good old boy who works for the federal government (how the hell did I get HERE?).

Anyway, today I had a chance to make things right in the pigeon category. My neighbor had a pigeon just sitting in the driveway, I went over and picked it up; the bird was tagged. I called around and got the hotline # for Texas Parks and Wildlife and they directed me to the Bird Banding Association. I tried to water the pigeon but he looked like he was going down fast. So I called my vet, he said bring it on in, he'd feed it, take care of it, and try to find the owner. I put the bird in the pickup and tried to keep his eyes open by blasting the a/c and Linda Ronstadt. Well, I don't know if the bird will make it, but at least it made the journey to a vet. Another reason I love this little town, people like my vet. Plus, about a month ago our neighbors across the street had a calf stuck in the barbed wire and cut up very, very badly. Don't know if the calf made it, but another vet hitched up a trailer and took him in.

Hell, they should have me on the simple life show. I'd bitch-slap those two when they complained about the country life. For such a meanie, I'm also a softie.

Libbi
March 22, 2004

Libbi Sez:

Out in my little country town the other day, I saw a guy in what appeared to be a HazMat suit, with the head pulled down, wearing a cowboy hat. Also, in my town, apparently someone was having a house party and there were about 10 vehicles parked in the drivewayout front. Every single one a pickup truck with the exception of one golf cart. That's what I love about Texas.

My friend JR Democrat was in town with his darling wife the week prior to SXSW, and they flew back to the Big A on Tuesday or Wednesday. Their plane had to abort take-off because a vulture flew into the jet engine. I told him the vulture was probably flying in for SXSW, a record exec no doubt. One less bell to answer.

Libbi
March 21, 2004

Libbi Sez:

I love the wording of this blurb:

Driver Wins Music Festival Slot

Actress Minnie Driver is close to realizing her dreams of a career in music after being booked to perform at the South By Southwest music festival in America this week. The Good Will Hunting beauty, 34, had planned to break into the music industry prior to landing the lead role in 1995 romantic drama Circle Of Friends. And now Minnie - who has already recorded her debut album - is following in the footsteps of last year's hottest new band The Darkness by performing in their slot this year.

Well, good for Minnie. She WON a slot. (Right). I personally have no qualms about playing because I cannot even sing now, but the above-mentioned festival has really changed from a grassroots upstart cool event to Hollywood and other name names descending upon Austin. It kind of makes me sick that the big names (even though they haven't been slaving away in clubs most of their life) get to bump out the locals who are extremely talented, and to add salt to the wound, the local musicians can't even afford wristband. Of course, the locals play the really cool shows: the parking lots, the stores, the restaurants, but still there are so many talented people in and around Austin it's a real shame to get cast aside, when the Austin music scene is a great part of what made this festival successful.

Libbi
March 17, 2004

Libbi Sez:

In keeping with my 2003 theme, I had another voice surgery in December. But that's not the one that did me in. I went to a dermatologist to have some "beauty marks" removed and discussed with her this thing that I have on my scalp. She said "We can excise it. How about Tuesday? Don't take any aspirin, yada yada yada." I show up and get all numbed up with lidocaine shots in my head and she starts slicing and dicing and spurt! spew! I'm bleeding all over the place. Two nurses had to come in and PRESS HARD on my hard head to try to stop the bleeding while she cauterized every tiny blood vessel that went haywire. It took an hour just to cauterize my head. I secretly suspected one of my shrinks had contacted her about a possible lobotomy and this whole bleeding thing was a dog and pony show. After about an hour and a half, I got my head stitched and stapled (Office Depot is making money hand over fist) and then the nurses had to apply a head dressing with alot of pressure. So, I walked out of the doctor's office looking like I was wearing a Babushka scarf / head gear wrapped around my head and neck and a huge lump on top of my head where they put about 10 compresses. I felt like such an idiot! Remind me not to have surgery in 2004. I think I'm going to call my next record "It Could Happen to You...But It'll Probably Happen to Me."

In the SPAM department, I got one of those generic emails touting fountain of youth stuff. In the subject matter it said Libbi Sagging Skin. I thought, "how'd they know?" Then I realized they were just suggesting ideas for my Native American Name.

Libbi
January 14, 2004

Libbi Sez:

I got a rather rude awakening today. I had my eyes checked about 4 months ago and they hadn't changed. They have remained the same or improved the last few years. Okay, so why all of a sudden is my monitor too bright and the text a little out of focus when I am reading? I have found myself holding a book an oonch away from me because for some reason the white of the page seemed to be interfering with the text. They must have used an unreadable font! Okay, well it was Times Roman, but it was a fluke, right?

I've been having more than my usual share of doctor's appoints. Two days ago I got a %$#@! shot in my foot for the plantar fasciitis and I'm going to the dermatologist to get a couple of moles, er, beauty marks removed (I have enough beauty! ha!). Of course I've had multiple surgeries for my voice, the most recent being last week. And now I've just found out I'll probably have to wear a CPAP machine at night to help me breathe until I can lose some weight (my husband said he's buying me an iron lung for Christmas!). But all of that is miniscule, MINISCULE I say!, to what transpired today.

Anyway, I'm talking to my mother-in-law about having trouble with my eyes, and she suggested I get reading glasses. Huh? Inside I wanted to laugh/cry/laugh but I just brushed it off. I was at my local MegaMonsterMarket today, and I happened upon said reading glasses. Gulp. Was anyone looking? I took a quick glance at some of the styles: Old Lady, Old Man, Really Old Lady, Old Enough to Wear Glasses but Young Enough to Care What They Look Like, and finally, Old Enough to Wear Glasses but Really Loud Colors so People Won't Think I Look Old. Then there were the super practical ones that come in a little tube case so you can whip them out while writing checks and stuff. Holy crap. I'd have to wear a Jackie O scarf and Groucho glasses to Wal-Mart if I was going to do that.

I tried on the glasses and read some small text on a few pharmacy items: pregnancy test, bladder control pads, bandaids, leather whips, whipped cream, and found much to my dismay that they actually worked. Oy. Of course the only ones they had in my budget were in the Loud category. No way! I scoured the rest of the display but it was Loud or overdrawn. Normally I am not afraid of being loud, but I was hoping I could find some that my husband wouldn't notice, being that he's a mere 35 and I am turning 39 next week. Additionally, they have a really pronounced bridge that screams AARP!

Okay, maybe I am overreacting a little. I doubt Courteney Cox and Sharon Stone have reading glasses. There's always Lasik, right? Of course, I won't be going to an eye doc in Beverly Hills. I'll be cutting coupons for the drive-through Quack Shack in the strip mall next to Little Caesars.

I'm not really that old, anyway. Gotta go. I've got Dynasty reruns to watch.

Libbi
November 23, 2003

Libbi Sez:

Okay, I now feel like I have an archenemy: B. Lofleck. Equal parts irritating, both of them. Really, it's up in the air who I like less when it comes to them. I pulled this from a news site today. It's Ben, accepting an award:

"I only accept it in the hopes that the absurd amounts of publicity that I received lately, that as far as I can tell is chiefly because I have a pretty girlfriend, that's what I did, I am a champion of the American way with a pretty girlfriend -- bring it on, paparazzi, news at 11 -- in the hopes that some of that publicity might be pointed at something more significant, something more positive, productive and meaningful."

Ben said this while accepting an award. Nice touch, Ben. Make it about you, why don't you. I'm sure everyone can relate. I mean, you don't even get any peace when you try to be anonymous by going to a fast food drive-through. In your Rolls Royce. How dare we notice you when you show up on the front row of the Red Sox game or the high and mighty ridiculous demands of you know who come to light. We are so inconsiderate.

Libbi
October something-or-other, 2003

Libbi Sez:

I was sitting around today with not much to do expect change diapers, clean the house, change the oil in the car, til the soil and put together a few computers, and I got to thinking. About the beast. That is. Or was. Might be again. Ben and Jennifer. You know. B. Lofleck. Today I read online that Ben was bemoaning his celebrity and that when he and Jennifer got married, they wouldn't do it in a courthouse. He said that this type of craziness "doesn't happen to Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston." Puh-fucking-leez.

So, basically, he asked for it, right? I mean, come on. I'm not all that intrigued by Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston, but give me a break. Brad Pitt is considered Hunk Extraordinaire by most women with hormones, and Jennifer is a highly successful television star. While Ben Affleck has perfected his Blue Steel/dropped cleft chin look for all of his movies, and Jennifer Lopez manages to slut up/down her image depending on which man is hooked on her line, I think it's very gauche, dahlink to drop celebrity names for comparison. And they just want to be a normal couple, right?

Since B. Lofleck is comparing itself to Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston, let me throw the Libbi version your way.

Jennifer Lopez: had not one but TWO Vera Wang wedding dresses for her as-yet-to-take -place wedding, which supposedly cost $320,000.00 each and which dresses she supposedly burned after the wedding didn't take place. Temper, temper, girl. But, since she's "from the block" and a feisty Latina, she can get away with such antics. Of course, the one who wears the pants in the relationship--oops, I mean Ben--whiteys her up by saying their relationship is interesting to the public because it is cross-cultural. Admit it, she's a freaking diva freak and it has nothing to do with culture. I throw one 2 inch thick glass ashtray and the police are knocking on my door.

Libbi: I wore the "Old Reliable" style gown. You know, the one with the empire waist for those of us who have babies in attendance at the wedding.

Jennifer: pink diamond Harry Winston engagement ring worth a cool $1.2 mil.

Libbi: I wear a white gold ring that won't seem to come off (no matter how hard I try...) due to either the ring's shrinkage or my gainage. It has the name Diana imprinted on the inside of the band. I am guessing that's the style name, and not the name of the gal who hocked it.

Jennifer: Had her wedding planned at the fabulous seaside hotel in Santa Barbara where the honeymoon suite was a mere $6,000 per night.

Libbi: Gringo honeymoon.Textbook. Froze my ass off because my husband didn't think we'd need sleeping bags in Texas. And I listened. We've moved on from that stage.

Jennifer: hand delivered invitations to mega celebrities with details of the location to come later, lest the media be able to foil their "privacy."

Libbi: printed invitations on my InkJet printer and they were stuffed by me and my friend Tina into number 10 envelopes with the details enclosed on a map, lest my friends be unable to find the barn in the boonies where we got married.

Jennifer: no doubt being ridden around Rodeo Drive in one of her five Bentleys for last minute wedding errands.

Libbi: hauling ass in my old Honda wagon because I'm late to my own wedding, and I had to choose between washing my hair and shaving my legs (I chose legs, by the way).

And finally, the number one comparison which really says it all:

Jennifer Lopez used to have fragrances sprayed in her path before walking in hotels lobbys, etc.?

Libbi: sprays Lysol in the wake of the "vapors" left by various members of the family household lest I myself pass out from the fumes.

So, comparing myself to those more successful to me is really just torture. And Sam and I are just your average, everyday, barely getting by couple who scrape to make our utility bill and frankly, get along, every month...I bet Fred and Ethel don't have to go through this.

Libbi
October 3, 2003 (my anniversary--probably explains why I'm so sentimental. Or let's just shorten that to mental.)

Libbi Sez:

You know you're a rotten kook, I mean cook, when you ask a five year old "how's the chicken?" and he replies "....uh....uh...it's okay I guess." Sad state of affairs at the Villa de Boz. Tonight I made Blackened Chicken. Again. Except not on purpose. I have this little problem with our grill and grasping the concept that when marinade drips into a fire the sucker gets SCORCHED. Oh well, at least the you can pull the skin off and the meat looks okay, and even has a sort of musky, smoky quality to it. It takes alot of practice for me to actually cook something the correct way. And I can cook, as long as I have a recipe, all the ingredients, a nap, a tranquilizer and a few beers. Well, it's not that I can cook, per se, it's that I don't care how it tastes or worry my culinary reputation. I managed to burn macaroni and cheese Monday night. Did you know it's possible to burn macaroni and cheese while boiling it? Maybe I should become a science teacher. We could use these experiments to collect data. Anyway...I made chicken tonight. It was black as motor engine oil. I warned my husband when he came home that we were having Blackened Chicken. He grinned. "What else is new?" he said. I replied "Well, you would have made Jerk Chicken." He said "What else is new?" Gotta love a man who doesn't take things too seriously.

Libbi
September 24, 2003
And there it is, short but sour.

Libbi Sez:

It must be nice to be rich, fabulous and famous. Take for example, my latest fixation. Dare I let the hideous descriptive cross my lips? Aghast. Okay, I'll say it: Bennifer. I wonder if the screams in my head somehow reached Ben Affleck on a Been There Done That wind? Of course, now I feel all guilty about JLo having to (no!) take off the million dollar pink diamond engagement ring, but here's where it crosses the line.

Us mere mortals, when we split up, or call off the engagement, or have bad blood with someone we love, we have to suffer through it. Jennifer and Ben have only been broken up a handful of days, and already he's been hanging around a pretty brunette and she's been playing in the surf seaside on South Beach and hitting the spa, the nightclubs and other high profile joints before she has to jet off to Canada to film a movie with Richard Gere. I mean, REALLY, the nerve. Why can't she be a blubbering, puffy-faced, rejected, mascara-stained, idiot like the rest of us, and crawl into the hole that will become her hell for the next month? And why can't he feel miserable, torn, reflective, and go home crying to mama knowing that his plans for everlasting love with her just aren't meant to be. No, they have to go and flaunt it in our faces that they are rich and famous and there is always someone else waiting in the wings to salve their hurts and save face for them. Us poor folk have custody battles over children and measly houses the size of their shoe closet, not diamonds and Rolls Royce automotive vehicles.

While Jennifer is dipping her digits in the Atlantic Ocean, Ben is dipping his digit, uh....wait a minute. Let me rephrase that. Ben is playing Who Has a Better Ass than Jennifer--in Vegas of all places. The competition is tough! Life is so hard for them both! I mean, for chrissakes, show some respect for us pitiful losers who have to wear our anguish, troubles and break-ups on our sleeves and faces for all of eternity and scrape around for another spouse, not just feel a bit blue until the next movie premiere.

I have to cut them a little slack, though. At least they gave it a respectful 12 hours of grieving. Considering each of them has a long line of suitors queued up, I reckon it's only fair. After all, the show must go on, and she is Jenny from the Block (right) and he must tend to his questionable hair and polish the Academy Award he won for being Matt Damon's best friend.

Libbi
Far from South Beach, Vegas, Santa Barbara and points of interest in between.
September 15, 2003

Libbi Sez:

Betty Cracker whips up some Jello in the kitchen: cherry. First, I manage to splash it on my one remaining white t-shirt. Second, I manage to get dishsoap bubbles in it (I would worry about someone noticing except that I am planning to eat the whole thing myself). Third, somehow, someway, I managed to make it lumpy. Can someone please tell me why I am cursed with culinary idiocy?

I love Conan O'Brien. The special on television was so funny. The kitchen episode with Martha Stewart cracked me up. What a beeotch, as was said on the air last night. Jack Black was terrific. Conan is the personification of Spongebob Squarepants if you ask me. Of course, I'm sure since Spongebob is so popular, I probably should be cool enough to disclaim ever watching it, but I watch it everyday with my 5 year old. Back to Conan. I think I like his pimp outfit the best of all. He's hot for a tall, geeky dude. Dig?

Libbi
September 15, 2003

Libbi Sez:

I turned on the television this morning. After all, how could I not? Surely it wouldn't have any affect on me after two years, right? I had to turn it off after about 15 minutes, even though I watched the news around the clock for a solid 6 months post-9/11. I didn't want to remember too vividly that helpless feeling we all felt two years ago. There were schoolchildren there at the microphone to read the names of those who died at the World Trade Center. How harmless could schoolchildren be? But, sigh, it turns out that they are the children of the victims and heroes of that day. I will be forced to feel today. I guess that's a good thing. And when I feel deeply, I usually write. So here I am. And there I was, with tears and yes, crying even, at names of people I never knew. For the children whose parents never came home from work that day. For people made famous by tragedy and in death.

Today my son was encouraged to wear red, white and blue to school. They were to have a moment of silence at school. It makes me wonder if, when he grows up, this will all be a distant memory for him, or if it will actually shape his future and be present in his everyday life? Will it still be viewed upon as horrible, or will it look minor compared to things to come?

These are the things that make me realize that, yes, I am growing older, but more so, a chapter is closing. My son is no longer a baby. Although he is MY baby, I feel a growing sense that he belongs more to himself now, more to the world. And with each passing year it will be more so. I know now why women love having babies so much; we get to view over and over the innocence that we come into this world with, only to watch it dissipate as the child grows older, becomes independent, gets bullied at school, has his lunchbox stolen, gets in fights. Maybe I am putting it in the only words I know how at the moment. I'm not even sure I have a point.

All I know is that yesterday I was abuzz with the hype that has become known as J Lo and her impending nuptials/divorce, referring to her as a serial bride and being so catty I drank my milk from a dish, and today I feel the world's pain. It is sometimes hard to reconcile these two dark and light feelings inside myself.

Admittedly, I am a hopeless optimist. For example, I started writing this story about 9/11 but finally had to re-write it. Am I denial? No. I just don't know that I want to share everything with everybody for a change. Even so, I still felt the urge to write; an urge that couldn't be suppressed today.

I feel somehow that today should be a commemorative holiday, but that would be giving a thumbs up to perpetrators. Hey, harm us and we name a day after it. So, there is just an underlying blue. My flag flies on my front porch. I think of those who risk their life every day for me, for everyone. Soldiers, police officers, firemen, even crossing guards for chrissakes, and people who help out others, including animals. Everyone has their cause and calling. I wish I had the calling sometimes to do for others instead of for myself. Oh, I feel the hurt alright. But I look forward to my trip to the grocery store, when I can forget about the real stuff and sneak a peek at the National Enquirer in the check-out line. Let me be humiliated. Hey, it's Freedom, right?

Libbi
September 11, 2003

Libbi Sez:

We had a fantastic gig with Rex Hobart and the Misery Boys and Danni Leigh the other night. We played at Emo's, more of a punk club than country joint, but it was an early show and the night creatures weren't out crawling sixth street yet. I had such a blast being onstage again--alive, alive, alive! It's been a long time since I have played a show by myself and felt good about it--and I felt pretty darn good. With my vox box, we had to turn the volume down a hair and the drummer, Dana Myzer, who sings fantastic harmonies (which to me is the equivalent of having a fiddle or steel player), played only a snare, and although my man Paul Skelton wasn't available, Jim Stringer, who played acoustic lead the whole time. He knocked 'em dead, not only with his superb playing, but with his voice on our trailerpark duet. And lemme tell you, the song lyrics require a bit of tongue in cheek camp and not just anyone could have done it up right like he did. Chris Johnson, my bass player, semi-sage and excellent friend, didn't miss a note: and we played all new songs. Part of my voice rehab is to play all new stuff so that I don't get a psyche when I sing an old song I had troubles with and stiffen up. It was really, really fun and my voice was about 90% there, but more importantly, we had a blast.

I am a very big fan of Rex Hobart and highly recommend you stop by his website and pick up his record. Really, really sweet guy; great voice and great band. I had seen him before but this time we got to chat a little and it was a big honor for me to share the stage with him. And if anyone from Bloodshot Records is reading this, gee, i wish I had a promo copy of his record(s), seeing as we're a one income family and all, it's so hard to keep shoes on the kids' feet and, sniff, don't you think there should be a sliding scale for CDs or something, and we all need operations, and.....okay, I'll shut up with my bald faced lying.

As much great fun as the show was, I unfortunately will be out for the next three months. I don't want to talk about it, don't want to talk about it, don't want to talk about it, but it involves more work on the ole voice. Or, if you prefer, you can check out my shows page for a different reality. I am thrilled that I had a great gig, and am sooooo looking forward to playing in the fall. I will have even more new songs, and I am working on my guitar playing, i.e., practicing. Did I hear a drum roll? Or was that snicker? Y'all scram, now. I got diapers to change.

Libbi
July 17, 2003

PS I have touted my friend John Sieger for years and have recorded two of his songs, and now you can find him yourself on the web at www.johnsieger.com. He's a fantastic songwriter, has some downloads (more to come--check out I Found Out, recently recorded by Flaco Jimenez) and writes great stories. Also, I know y'all are hip to the mullets site, but have you seen Rock and Roll Confidential? Click here and make sure you check out the Douchebag Hall of Fame --love the brick wall photos!

Libbi Sez:

Needles. Ugh. I am just curious if there is someone out there with a voodoo doll in my likeness. Y'know. Curly hair, slightly bucktooth, steps in crap, smells like rose. I think I have had more needles stuck in me in the last five to six years than I did the entire first 30 years of my wouldn't-change-it-for-the-world life. Of what am I speaking? Well, I told y'all earlier of that quaint little procedure I had done to test for nerve damage where the doctor had to stick needles, that's right, needles THROUGH my throat into my vocal cords. I cried like a baby of course. There were needles to supposedly deaden the needles, but I think Lidocaine has something against me. It was like that at my last baby birthing as well. Okay, so I have a curved spine (I like to say swayback) and the doctor had to poke me like, a whole bunch of times in my spine before we found the proper spot. Lidocaine deserted me then, too. And don't think I was brave, either. I was literally shaking like a baby leaf on a tree on a windy freakin' day. I cried BIG TIME, of course. It was one of those jaw shivering experiences. And I think I have had my blood drawn more times than any person I know. Anyhoo, I have this foot problem of late and went to the doctor and have plantar fasciitis. He gives me heel cups to wear in my shoes. The problem progresses and my foot is in so much pain that I am visiting my GP doc and she says she can give me a shot in the foot. Oh, golly, could you? It hurts but I don't cry (til I get in the car). Foot still hurts three weeks later. Another shot, right in the heel, plus a shot in the other foot. Time passes. Foot still hurts. Go back to the ortho doc and I figure he'll give me another x-ray, after all, mustn't it be something else? Maybe I've developed a kidney stone? In my foot? But sigh. He doesn't want to give me another x-ray, these are all symptoms of the same thing and it's all in slow motion as I see him merrily root his way through his medical cabinet and come out with a 2 inch needle and some bottles. ARGHTFRED!@#$#@. I say meekly "Don't you want to x-ray me again?" "No need to." I almost, I swear, started to cry, but he gently put my blue painted toenailed foot on his thigh and pressed with his thumb to find the most painful spot--I yelped of course--and said "I'm gonna poke you" and waaaaaaa! it hurt like a motherfucker. Have you noticed I am cussing today? Then I look down and the dang needle is ALL THE WAY in my foot and hits a nerve practically on the other side of my foot. I scream loud and whimper and then it's all over and then I feel like an idiot because there was a five year old there getting a cast off his leg and I don't think he screamed half as much as I did. What a wuss I am. But it just made me wonder, with all these needles, if someone put the Tammy Whammy on me somewhere and I'm bound to have medical maladies from here on out. I guess it could be worse. Hail Mary and all that stuff. Come to think of it, maybe I'll say a Libbi version of a prayer to the Boss (no, not Bruce) giving thanks that at least it's all been small stuff so far. Anybody got a bandaid? I like the Buzz Lightyear ones.

Libbi
July 2, 2003

Happy Independence Day from your hometown firecracker. Or just cracker works, too.

Libbi Sez:

I am offering mediation and arbitration services to one Natalie Maines and her opponent, Toby Keith (I don't know his last name, but a large chunk of big country stars have two first names). Keep in mind that while I don't have mediation or arbitration credentials, I do spend alot of time acting as referee to two young children. Therefore, I feel I am qualified.

My services are as follows: Both stars deserve a little swat on the behind at this point and time-out for the length of one televised ratings sweeps and one summer of touring. While I am all for Freedom of Speech, I think it is pitiful the tit-for-tat these two are presently exhibiting under the shadow of much larger issues.

Though I am not a big fan of Toby Keith, he has every right to his opinion. If he wants to sing a song that is about a well deserved ass-kicking to one evil terrorist, he has every right. I may not agree with the song, but it's his decision, and it happens to reflect the sentiment that many Americans feel. That's a fact. A song is a song and it engages whoever relates to it. Maybe it strikes a chord in many folks who are angry about September 11. Who can blame him or his fans for feeling angry? I know when I am angry I am not exactly Miss Manners. I'm often ready to do a little ass-kicking of my own.

Meanwhile, Natalie has voiced her opinion of him publicly. I may be wrong, but I think this was the beginning, and it wasn't pretty. Maybe there was something else, I don't know. Okay, so the water is starting to simmer. Then there's the Bush comment. While I am a Democrat, I am on the conservative side, and disagreed with her, but felt she had a right to her opinion, too. And I thought it sincere when she apologized but then started to feel weird when I saw all the interviews and the nude cover surrounding it. I am not a conspiracy theorist so I certainly didn't think it was a marketing ploy, but it definitely gave attention to the Chicks, who didn't really need it: they have an excellent fan base and a superb record out right now; their best ever. Just when folks were starting to accept her apology and side with Natalie...

Apparently Toby has been showing a video behind him during his concerts that contains the altered picture of Natalie and Saddam hugging. Puh-leez. Kindergarten anyone? Totally juvenile. That didn't get much press, maybe because it wasn't on live t.v. But Natalie sure got some press the other day for showing up in her F.U.T.K. t-shirt. Tsk, tsk. Being one who is totally compulsive, I can understand how words can fly out of one's mouth that unintentionally end up as "insert foot here," but this was obviously premeditated. It really goes against all the love-and-forgiveness attitude I have absorbed from her interviews, etc., post-Bush-comment. It reminded me of the "A Low Vera" t-shirt that sprouted up about a year ago on J Ro.

Could we please just give it a rest? Could one of you take the high road and call a truce? Can't y'all just talk it over on the phone or, for chrissakes, wrassle it out? For one thing, this Hatfield and McCoy fight is taking up precious juicy gossip space in the tabloids and I need something to read in the checkout line. After all, there are lots of people in the world who AREN'T celebrities who don't get to voice their opinion in concert or on live t.v. but whose opinions count just as much. I'll say it now: If I were mediator, I'd have them both picking up trash off the side of the road for a week before sitting them down to hash it out face to face. Thank God I live in a country where I can express my opinion. And I'm not even famous or nuthin' so likely no one will give a hoot but me.

So now that I've dissed, I'd like to see them kiss and make up. Or even better, I'd like to see them do what grown-ups do: agree to disagree. If I can do it, ANYONE can do it!

Libbi
June 3, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Cripes. What a day. I usually write at night but these last 24 hours or so have had me running ragged. It's actually been LESS hectic than usual but still, anyone who stays at home with their kids deserves a reward. I should preface this with the fact that I love my kids dearly.

Besides the major floater in the bathtub incident and the bleaching of the bathtub about two weeks ago, yesterday we had another lump of love escape from the Huggies and today Mr. Hank just decided to rip off his little faux undies, crawled up on the chair to watch D-d-d-d-d-Dora the Explorer (unbeknownst to me) and really let her rip. Then moved over to the couch to share the wealth. I'm trying not be gross here, but when you are a parent you see everything. I mean everything. Oh, yeah, then he peed in the fireplace. And of course I must be a horrible mother because this all happened in the three minutes I was changing my clothes. If you ever come over for dinner, you can rest assured the couch and chair are free from e-prefaced bacteria as we wisely use slip covers and into the hot wash with bleach they went.

The next thing that happened was when I thought I'd take a power nap but I couldn't get my five year old to take his nap, so I snuggled up together on the couch and crashed. I wake up, the whole house reeks of bleach and my five year old has woken up and taken a spray bottle of bleach of the furthest back corner of the kitchen counter and decided to clean (he is very tall and we sometimes forget how long his reach is). He apparently was trying to clean my brand new bath rug (okay I got it at Target on clearance for $3.74 but I loved it and had just washed it yesterday). I washed it just in case I could salvage it but it's blue with a big splotch of pink. Oh yeah. He also cleaned about 3 big stains on the carpet for me. And he scrubbed 'em good. With the bleach. Adios carpet.

Then my 5 year old said "Can I get drink of milk?" I said, "sure," because he knows how to pour a small cup for himself, only he was making a "bottle" for l'il bro. A bottle being a sports bottle about 20 ounces. I hear "Mom, um, I spilt a little." I say "okay, and come into the kitchen to wipe it up, see that Little Brother has a sports bottle open in his hands, and as if in slow motion he just tumpted it over onto the floor. Milk everywhere.

They are now playing and screaming with glee and Sam informed me that he was going to sort through his clothes. I'm pretty sure this means I'll be folding all his clothes and putting them back in his dresser. Wait, he just came in and told me they are sorting through MY clothes and they are throwing my undies in the air.

Stay at Home Mom is a complete misnomer. Work at Home Mom is more like it. It is by far the hardest job in the world.

Between the never-ending laundry, never-ending taking out the garbage, making supper and snacks, clean-ups after supper, never ending tantrums (no, not me), trying to instill some type of character in them, I am worn out. I just wanted to write today. And let the Xanax kick in.

Libbi
May 14, 2003

One day from mortgage payment and all I get when I squeeze the onion is onion juice. Sigh.

Libbi Sez:

It's a dull boring story why my old site got zapped from the servers so I'll bore you with this one instead and try to design a new site real soon. I'm in the mood for brown at present. And a sandwich. An Owen Wilson sandwich, with a little Owen Wilson on the side. Geez, is he a babe or what? I saw a picture of some chick with a wig (no, not J Lo or Dolly) being bookended by the brothers Wilson and realized that I had finally found the purpose to my life. Luke, no doubt l'il bro, you are one Little Debbie Snackcake, but Owwwwwwwwwweeeeeen. Good thing I just had a cold shower.

The reason for the cold shower is as follows. L Boz has returned to her normal abnormal life by entering into the Never-ending Story of painting the house. Recall that I have not one iota of experience in painting, but have learned along the way.

Move over: Martha, Lynette Jennings and Katie Brown. And that Shabby Chic Chick. Hey, what if her name is Abby? Say that three times fast: Abby the Shabby Chic Chick. I think it's time for a xanax.

Anyway, here are Libbi's tips for first-time painters:

Hair Care Tip: If you have heavy gray roots like moi, let some paint get in your hair. It'll save you a trip to the hairdresser because when you walk into a store in your tattered paint clothes to pick up, say, xanax, people instantly realize you have been painting and comment on your hair. "Oh, I see you are painting your house white," they say. Ha! You sure fooled them and saved yourself a trip to the Beauty Operator (I refuse to call it anything else).

Skin Care Tip #1: Don't bother bathing for a few days if you plan to be painting for weeks, even months on end. I'm pretty sure that even though some people go into anaphylactic shock when they come into contact with latex, it's really good for your skin. Just let it dry. It gives you that peasant look and you feel like an earth mama, even if you stink.

Skin Care Tip #2: Want the cheapest and best exfoliating experience around? Go to Wal-Mart, park where there are no diapers on the ground, and get you a .99 cent pot scrubber made from plastic. When you eventually take a shower, scrub all the paint off with that and a little paint thinner and then drench yourself if cocoa butter lotion. Nothing like it.

Skin Care Tip #3: When cleaning your tools, do so outside. Use the garden hose to fill your paint pan with cool water and soak your feet in it while you rinse your roller. And guess what? You could try to rinse a roller for an hour and it will never come clean. But at least your feet will be soothed by the water paint mixture. Caughtcha! You're soaking in it! If you have a husband that rubs feet, that will do as an alternative, but then you have to put one in the "favor bank," and gals, we know what that means.

Money Tips: There is no such thing as a One Coat Paint, unless you buy a One Coat Primer, a One Coat Paint Brush, and most importantly, a One Coat Professional Painter. Save the $700. I got Martha paint (I admit it and I'll hail six Bloody Marys to repent) on clearance when Kmart closed and then Wal-Mart was able to scan the color when Martha was no longer available near me. I'm pretty sure that's copyright infringement, but that's between Wal-Mart and Martha. I bet old Sam could kick her ass from the grave. She may be tough, but he was a scrapper, doggone it.

Painting Tip: I'll just leave you with one tonight and it refers to texturing walls. It's one I made up myself. See, it's been kind of humid here of late, the weather's getting warm, the dog sleeps in the house. All these factor into this intricate process. I call it Trailerpark Texture. Important: do not vacuum your carpet before this technique, otherwise it won't work. Just slap on your paint in a haphazard manner and pretty soon fleas will be sticking to the wall like crazy, even though you fogged your house and de-fleaed (some word!) your dog and cat 10 days ago. Just paint right over the little bastards, and pretty soon, you've got texture. And don't be afraid to try your own variation: silverfish, gnats, mosquitoes (hey we got plenty of those in Texas!)

On an unrelated note, I had my third voice related surgery about two weeks ago and am on voice rest. I'm not exactly sure what that means; I'll have to look it up. My doc and the boys (one was cute--do I ever stop with this?) cut a two incher through my throat. And those jokesters said I wouldn't feel or remember anything. They are so funny. I kept grunting, trying to say OOOOOWWWWW but I think they knew what I meant because I remember my doc saying "More Lidocaine!"

The first few days after the surgery you could have superglued bolts to my neck, I looked like so much like Frankenstein. Now it's more like Frankenboz. I have a friend who was telling me about a liquid elixir you can put on an incision to cover up a scar: it works on neck surgeries, c-sections, etc. I may use it on my neck, but I have one for my two c-sections: my gut.

I have absolutely no energy to redo my website (I have all my old files, but my old site is in Libbi-imposed exile; you might say it's time for a new regime. Hard to top my old site, but I'll do my best.

Thanks for listening to my idiotic ramblings.

Libbi
Freshly showered, de-fleaed.
April 24, 2003

Libbi Sez:

Okay, I am becoming more outspoken about the situation in Iraq. I do not want to lose my liberal friends (90% of musicians) but the more I hear about the terror and despicable treatment of Iraqi citizens by their own "leader" the more sickened I am. I read one story the other day about the first truckload of civilians that rode up to the checkpoint (this was before the shooting yesterday) and they were apparently forced by the Elite unit to ride in front of them. I have read about Iraqi citizens being forced to march on foot ahead of the Republican guard, and the one that knotted my stomach, the Iraqi woman who was hanged because she waved to coalition troops. I am constantly following this war, and those that hate war (as do I) need to follow it to stay informed, yet remember that some reporting is inaccurate on both sides. Use your judgment, but I say Saddam is a scumbag and basically, as my friend Roy says, there are three people that want him in power: him and his two sons. I know a woman from Iran who immigrated when times were very tough there and she said that you had to make public displays of support for the leader or face harsh consequences, even death. I saw in Basra (I think) where there was great support for Saddam yet when coalition troops ran out the ratfinks and humanitarian aid arrived from the English, the same citizens were saying they only made a public display of support for fear of death. In fact, one man wouldn't show his face to the camera but made stated how happy he was for the troops.

And let me say, for all I have been following, I saw a news story on the San Antonio station yesterday. I think the guy was from Buda, near here and Austin, and had part of his leg mangled from stepping on a mine and had to return home (purple heart in tow). He was crying to the interviewer--not because he was scared or upset, but because he wanted so bad to get back to lead his fellow troop members home and felt like he was letting them down. It made me cry. People don't realize that most of these troops WANT to be there and are very proud of the job they are doing for US. Some say Don't Kill in My Name but they are trying to SAVE lives even if some will be sacrificed, sadly. Very sadly. I totally support the troops and if I could sing right now, and get my ass to Kuwait and Iraq to sing for these GIs I'd be right there.

I was in a fabric store tonight in SA near a military base and a soldier walked in in fatigues and was buying camouflage fabric. We were both waiting to have fabric cut (I can't even sew, go figure) and I asked if he was being shipped out. He said yes. I said God Bless You, Godspeed and I hope you come home soon. He said he thought it was going to be a longer war than we thought. I agreed. He was getting fabric to make something--he said he was making something they don't issue but he needed it for better comfort -- maybe a canteen container or something. He was about 40 and I realized he was probably career military. It was my first face to face with someone going over. I told him I was very proud of him and thanked him for what he was doing.

Libbi comes out of her conservative closet.

Libbi
April 1, 2003. No joke.

Libbi Sez:

Oscars. Zzzzzzz. Best dress: Olivia de Haviland. Really. She had the balls to wear some COLOR. And she was one of the few without plastic surgery. Actually Catherine ZJ looked pretty cute. Actually, Renee Zellweger had the best dress for a young thing. Only Sean could pull off the bib with class.

I am sooooooo over the soapbox about the war, so I'll let her rip: you know those bumper stickers that say Hate is Not Family Value and Visualize World Peace? Aren't they only targeting those who believe that anyway? Do we need to be told that hate is not a family value? Don't reasonable people already know that? Do we need to be told that we want peace in the world. Who in their right mind doesn't?

I think some big celebs musta got a talking to before they went out, because they held their tongue. And fuck Michael Moore. This is a time when, just like right after 9/11, people start resenting their friends for their differences in politics and he was taking his Oscar time to fuel that fire. You could feel the tension amongst the actors and actresses about who's in what camp, and that is disconcerting. As the years go by I get more irritated by Susan and I found myself irritated by others making "peace" talks. I believe in Freedom of Speech but is an Oscar ceremony really the right time and place for this? Are they really going to get "recruits" for the peace movement? Don't people make up their own minds based on their own values and judgment and not what a celebrity is doing at an awards ceremony?

I was very touched that Matthew McConaughey had the balls to wear red, white and blue flowers (I think a bluebonnet probably from his front yard in Austin). I was also very touched by Adrien Brody's speech. He didn't place blame. He summed it up: no one wants war, we all want peace, so let's work quick and get our boys home.

In my opinion, this war is not just about oil; it's also about stopping a situation that could get completely out of hand and be unstoppable and kill wayyyyyy more people later than the present danger.

Godspeed to our soldiers and the coalition. I pray for liberation for the Iraqi people, from their dictator to our bombs. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in Baghdad. It is a difficult situation and so many say that peace is the answer or love is the answer. That is true, but I believe that is the ultimate goal of many of our soldiers and hopefully by doing this now, we can save many lives later.

Libbi
March 23, 2003

Libbi Sez:

About THE comment in today's news. I have been known to make regretful ill-timed comments (usually cussing and screaming) about once a year, so I can't exactly claim innocence, but then again no one is writing down everything I say and printing it worldwide (except me, of course, on this Hissyfit). Surely the moment the words came out there was a mental head thwunk that went through the group, but right or wrong, what's done is done. And although some feel the apology is trite (according to one major web site), it's always nice to know that people can humble themselves by apologizing when appropriate yet stand up for what they believe. I talk about alot except religion and politics on this site, so I won't go into my own opinion about politics. Okay, maybe I ragged on the muu muu, but everyone deserves a second chance whether you agree or disagree with the comment (I personally disagreed). Rest assured I am a proud American, hang my flag out when appropriate, and I put it at half-mast on September 11 this past anniversary and February 1 when the Columbia disintegrated. But people have to remember that MOST musicians (at least those I know that come up through the club scene) are more liberal than your average everyday Joe. Of course no one in their right mind wants to go to war and get innocent people killed, but I find I am bored with soapboxing from big celebs. I guess if I was a big celeb, maybe I'd change my mind. I know I seem to be "on the fence" but I am not: I just don't care to let everyone know how I feel and get a bunch of nasty-grams.

Libbi
March 14, 2003
PS No second chance on the muu muu though, for sure.

Libbi Sez:

Today I saw my doctor to get more details on my upcoming surgery. It's a surgery often used on folks with paralyzed or weak vocal cords, and I am anticipating good results. It's got me more intrigued than frightened at the moment because of what they do. I may be wrong about some of these details but from what I understand, they will (hopefully) knock my chicken ass out but good (maybe I'll bring a hammer to knock myself out just in case); my doctor will make a small needle like hole through the skin in my throat to find the proper place in the muscles alongside my misbehaving cord, make an incision in my neck about an inch and insert a Goretex implant alongside the vocal cord to give it more strength and push it up closer to the other cord to achieve proper closure. All this originally stems from the original sulcus vocalis/scar tissue injuryinjury. What I meant in my prior entry about the "specifics of my injury" is that apparently my doctor has heard that singers can have unsatisfying results. However, his muse and buddy has successfully performed this operation on singers who develop the injury, not those born with the injury. Since I was not born with it, my chances of a successful outcome are high. At some point during the operation (get this) they wake me up and I have to make pitch or noise or get my vocal cord vibrating (does hysterical crying count?). Really, at the moment it sounds so encouraging I almost don't want to get my hopes up. But I have the utmost faith in my doctor and I know he would do anything he could to help me repair and re-heal my voice. He played for me a tape of a patient pre and post op (speaking) and the results was pretty amazing.

It has been quite a journey, and when I thought we were getting closure with the rehab (no pun intended) it looks like we are starting a new portion of this journey to find real closure on my cords. It may seem sappy but I really do feel lucky sometimes. Not to be all zen about it, but things like this really do put hair on your chest. As my friend John Reiser says (paraphrasing), "Everytime I overcome a brick wall, it seems like another pops up out of nowhere. And all I can say is, watch out wall. Here I come. Sorry about this, wall."

Libbi
March 3, 2003
PS My surgery is in April. Now if I can only get breast implants too...

Libbi Sez:

I will once again be going under the knife to tend to the misbehaving vocal cord. Don't know when but -- ACK! - I have to be awake for this procedure so I can make sounds while they work on my cord! #$@!^%$#$ I think I am going to faint. Gee, where'd I put my balls? Fellas, if y'all have any extra ones, hand em over. I feel like a fraidy cat. This might change my speaking voice a little; I don't know about singing voice. It's a procedure my doctor has performed 300-400 times for persons with a weak or paralyzed vocal cord, and from pow-wowing with his cohorts he believes the specifics of my original injury will make this a success for me. This is sort of a continuation of the original injury -- removing the scar tissue was step one -- but it appears that I also had a weak cord due to that original injury and the cords are not getting proper closure. I think I have the best doctor in the world; if I am meant to sing again I will. If not, I hope I can still talk okay so at least I can gossip!

PS I am scared of the being awake part mostly. I'll bring pee pads and wear waterproof mascara.

Libbi
Covered still in paint
February 25, 2003 (hey two hissyfits in one 24 hour period!)

Libbi Sez:

More painting for L. Boz today, yesterday, day before, etc. An acquaintance asked me very gingerly if I had "done something with my hair," to which I wanted to reply "yeah, I painted the bathroom ceiling with it."

Let me tell you a little something about me. I am a self-taught, do-it-yourselfer all the way. I am a high school cast out, and everything I have learned I have learned because I wanted to figure it out. I was always scared of painting for some reason. I have recently bought all these books on construction and adding on rooms and stuff. What the heck is happening? I'll tell you. I have lived in easily 100 places in my life, maybe many more. I never thought I would have a "normal" life and actually own a home. The only one we could afford was last decorated in 1973. So it was either live with Avocado Green and Burnt Yellow or get off the stick and try my hand at painting. It's kind of confusing buying colors. I was like "duh, where's the red?." Now they have colors called things like Wheatgrass Drying after a Rainstorm. Snow Outside a Vermont Bed and Breakfast. New SUV Orgasm.

Maybe since Kmart is out of biz and Martha will be spending some time in hot water (and I don't mean Sedona), I could fill the fill the gap and create a Real People's paint line and give them names like: Fat Sucked from a Late 40's Celebrity During Liposuction. Slime from the Garbage Can You Never Wash Out, Dear. Leftover Milk from a Bowl of Trix Cereal. Bacon Grease.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I painted over more than one dead bug but dang it if I didn't get obsessive compulsive and trim UNDER the counter where no one would look. But let's say down the road, after prison, Martha Stewart, or even Leona Helmsley for that matter, is driving down I-10 and breaks down in Seguin and I come to her aid and offer my house while she waits for her new car to be brought to her. Let's say she wants to thank me with marmalade made from her citrus orchard and almost drops it but just before it crashes to the floor she catches it. And as she slowly rises, her eyes turn toward the underside of the counter. And she smiles to herself, because yes, I have painted it to match the cabinets. And she feels good, because she knows the thought crossed my mind at some point "What would Martha do?."

I am no longer afraid of painting. It's just scrubbing up with a steel wool pad that gets me. Talk about your fear factor: I also made beef stew tonight, and Betty Crocker, if that is her real name, might have even liked it.

One last piece of nonsense: You know I only watch the Grammys to see what everyone is wearing. I did not see them last night but saw the photos of all the winners. I have one thing to say to one act: GET A NEW STYLIST. AND STOP SHOPPING TOGETHER.

Libbi
February 25, 2003
Covered head to toe in paint primer.

Libbi Sez:

So here it is Midnight Thirty and I am (a) soaking wet (b) covered head to toe in paint (c) freezing. I made a hideous attempt to "update" our house today, so whilst (cool word, eh?) I was "painting" the house got destroyed by my dog and kids. My dog has blue paint on her ear, but bless her heart, she did clean out the cat box while I wasn't looking. Happy Doggie Valentine's Day, Miss Olive.

I bought the expensive "one coat" brand of paint and I'm laughing so hard my side hurts. Two coats of everything later....One room came out the color of pickle juice. Exactly. That's what they should call it. They only saving grace is that it's in the dining room, so technically it could work, if I put cute little jars of hot peppers like the serious sandwich place laying around. NO.

The larger of our puny bathrooms came out okay, but only after I realized my "cutting in" techniques weren't working (cutting in to me means "interrupting" yuckety yuk) and I painted the ceiling to match. Okay so now the whole freaking bathroom is deep blue with speckled green tile from 1973.

On to bathroom number two. Here is my big mistake. I was tired and already willing to paint over dead bugs should I see one. But I thought "it'll just take a minute." The bathroom is teensy and also has 1973 speckled baby blue tile so I buy the expensive one coat paint which is supposed to be more of a grayish with blue tint. Tint, you dopes. I am a tad nervous because Pickle Juice looked Lemon Chiffon in the can. But I say "hey I'll give it another chance" and now my tiny bathroom where my macho husband shaves and does all the things husband's do is BABY BLUE. It matches the tile. But did I mention? It's BABY BLUE. It is so sissified I wouldn't even paint a baby boy's room that color! Aghast am I. And I know I will now have nightmares that someone will see this bathroom. I feel I must be punished. You know how J. Lo. has everything done in white and a fragrance sprayed before she enters the room? I am going to be having nightmares that everywhere L. Boz goes it's painted BABY BLUE. When was baby blue ever in style, anyway. Enough bullshit. Onto more important bullshit.

I had to leave the band I was singing with, Dead End Angels, for vocal reasons. All is not lost. I was finding that I was hiding behind harmonies a little and I'm not sure it was rehabbing my voice but instead giving me a crutch to lean on. I went to my doctor, took him a tape I recorded in the studio, he listened to it, and thinks there may be still something we are missing. We've yanked the sulcus vocalis. We've yanked the tonsils (mostly because I was always getting sick and swollen throat). He's talking with all his big wig doc buddies and sending them my stuff trying to see if they have any ideas. The damage to my vocal cord pre-surgery was bad; in fact I didn't even realize it's one of the worst injuries you can have (although I heard a story of a guy having surgery on one of his vertebrae and the back surgeon sliced his vocal cord. aaaaaaah! but i digress. hey i feel better about my voice already). Anyhoo, I did this joyous little test for nerve damage where the doc shoots three needles into my throat to anesthetize me, then sticks two more needles THROUGH my throat (okay do I have balls? I grew them that day if not.) into my vocal cord nerves and a neurologist was present to assess if I had nerve damage. Thankfully, I did not, because there is apparently no treatment for that.

I'll keep you apprised. I got a whole freaking record of songs I'd like to record this year. Working with Scott Melott from the Dead End Angels was a really great experience and he helped me write some good tunes. Plus, I need to get into the studio and spend some time away from Pickle Juice soon. Maybe I'll accent it with a yuppy mauve. My dog just ate pure sulfure to wash down the cat turds.

Smooches.

Libbi
February 16, 2003

Libbi Sez:

This is the best gingerbread house I've seen. Screw Martha Stewart; this is real life. I wonder if it's a double-wide? This obviously talented artist did forget to put a litter of dogs running around the front yard, and the pile of junk on the side of the house that later gets dumped in the creek, but maybe he or she was looking on the bright side; sort of the evolution of rednecks, circa 2050. I think it should be titled Still Life with Car On Blocks. Thanks to Michael Bradshaw for the glimpse into what might very well be my future. Anybody got any razor blades?

Libbi
January 23, 2003

Libbi Sez:

Just a random thought on how it's so wrong to be left-handed because all I do is get ink all over my left hand and my desk. Now that the important issues are over, let's talk about me. Just kidding. Did I mention I had my tonsils out? After two surgeries, my mouth is pretty much a vacant room for rent, but don't no germs come a knockin.' My doctor, bless his honest heart, told me matter of fact. It's gonna hurt like hell. I said "like swallowing glass?" He said, "more like razor blades." And he wasn't kidding. About two days after I came out of my first Vicodin induced lounging around, my sweet neighbor across the street brought me vanilla ice cream and homemade muffins. Edna is her name and she is a sweetie pie. Well, I kind of let the ice cream melt and then warmed up the muffins (in the microwave of course no patience for that appliance thing) as I hadn't eaten in a couple days. I broke up the muffin into teensy eensy bits and mushed them into the vanilla ice cream. Every soap-opera watchers afternoon dream come true. Surely THIS couldn't hurt to eat. After all, I've had two c-sections and surgeries out the wazoo. This was like baby mush. I took a bite. It felt like my throat became an in-sink erator, better known as a garbage disposal, and that it was spinning around in my throat throwing tiny needles in a whirl. Mother %^$@@#@$% AAAAAARRRRRGGH!! More Vicodin, please. After about 7 days of this, I sort of turned the corner and I was back singing a mere 15 days after the surgery. I'm not sure it counts since I was only singing harmony. But still, I have to keep my mouth in working order lest I forget how to use it. Doubtful, eh? I had some tough-ass tonsils, "innies" not "outties" and they had to work hard to get them out so I think there was some fear of my voice changing but lucky for me I sound like I did. I haven't had a sore throat since. After 38-ish years. Did I mention I'm a late bloomer?

New random thought: how the heck did Jewel get to play the rodeo? Oh, yeah, she's bucking that hunky rodeo star. Woof. Must be nice. Giddyup. Now, did I call it that Viggo would be a big star or what? Go back and read my archives. I would classify him as a husband-in-waiting in my dreams but he writes poetry for chrissakes. Demerits. Although he paints. Extra credit. Maybe he should stay after school for some lessons with Miss Bosworth and make up some time. Thank Goodness my husband never reads this. I don't know what's become of him. I bought him the Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar and he hasn't even cracked it open. Maybe he doesn't want to know what he's missing.

Back to the real world of dirty dishes, sniffly noses, and jeans that barely fit. Screw "One Day My Prince Will Come." I'm just waiting for my personal chef and trainer. Okay, let's say all around houseboy.

Libbi
January 6, 2003

Libbi Sez:

Can I get salmonella from eating raw cookie dough? Just wondering. Betty Cracker was at it in the kitchen today. This is how pitiful I am: I scooped out the PRE-MADE cookie dough per instructions. Burnt the whole batch to a crisp. Tossed 'em in the trash. Rinse, repeat. BURNT again. I figured maybe I should just have it raw.

That's all the very highly intellectual stuff I have to say for now. I smell baby funk. I must go change Stinkerbelle.

Libbi
Undated

Libbi Sez:

Saw this ad in my local small-town paper. Couldn't resist posting it:

ELECTRIC

Sausage stuffer, meat scale, meat grinder, old 22 rifle. 830-XXX-XXXX

Gotta love Texas.

Libbi
November 12, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Y'know, it seems kind of weird to not be singing in my own band and to not be up on stage cutting jokes, mostly poor ones, and when I get a zinger in, reveling in the laughter. One of the funnest things about being onstage is that I really like to make people laugh. Even with a sad song--it can be painful and razor-blade ready from start-to-finish and I still will manage to have a light evening on the whole and whole. I really miss my band; miss sitting around the living room with them gossiping, and lemmetellyou there has been some good gossip I dare not tell on live internet. Not that everyone doesn't know I LOVE LOVE LOVE gossip. Not the mean kind. Just the juicy details. My friend says there's telephone and Tell-A-Libbi. I say: I told two friends, and I told two more friends, and so on and so on. But I digress.

I really do miss playing with my band. I miss the nights on fire when Paul Skelton decides to orbit earth with his playing. It'll probably be spring before I can do it all again comfortably. As I mentioned, I am singing harmony to help put into place my new singing techniques without having to worry about entertaining--cause when I start getting all exciterated (in the words of Tigger) all the technique goes out the window. Once I get the technique down I can start singing again with my own honky tonk band. By the way: on an "Oh, Fuck" note: I have to have another surgery to remove my tonsils. After chronic tonsillitis my doc says they are coming out. And he says that when you pass age 12 if hurts like a mofo. I asked him if it counted that I acted 12.

In the Don't Pity Me Department, I am actually playing and being creative so much these days. I am designing more websites than ever, writing an article for Best in Texas magazine, and I mentioned that I met Scott Melott and have joined his new band, Dead End Angels. I plan for that to continue 100% even when I am writing and singing the beer-drinking-gun-totin-pass-out-on-the-barstool-honky tonk music again. Dead End Angels is really Scott's vision and it's more along the Americana vein. I try not to embarrass him too much with my trailer park upbringing and Wal-Mart wardrobe, but it gives me a chance to actually be somewhat serious about the music and to think outside the white trash box. It is an absolute joy singing harmony to his terrific songs, personality and voice. It is immensely satisfying to be in this new band. Our voices sort of go together like peanut butter and jelly. It's pretty cool. And now for the creative part: we have been doing some writing together, so for those of you who have been asking me to light a fire under my proverbial booty, it's on fire, baby, and it's gonna take a firehose (and a really cute fireman) to douse it out.

Smooches from the twang gang (now run to networksolutions.com to see if that domain name is available--it is, and don't forget who brought you up from the gutter when you sell it to Donald Trump). I own too many domain names already--no place to store them all.

Libbi
October 25, 2002

PS Wanna hear a joke? I bought a fiddle. Wanna hear the punch line? I'm learning to play. Sort of similar to the tonsillitis thing: it's much more painful when you do it after age 12.

Libbi Sez:

Hey, 'dja see my article in Best in Texas magazine? I am actually published. Whooda thunk, high school dropout and all.

My voice is really improving thanks to the great care I am getting for my voice and the work I have done. My voice therapist was worried that if I got on stage and had bad experiences with singing before my cords were ready that I may develop stage fright. But I beat her to the punch. I had already developed it. She wanted me to wait to sing my voice was at 100% and she's right. Only I LOVE the stage so I compromised and asked a couple of people if I could sing harmony with them. This way I can strengthen my voice and work on the new singing processes and not have to worry about performing. This has turned out to be a total kick. I love singing harmony. It is so refreshing to add a layer to someone else's music. I am fortunate to be singing with one of my best friends in the world, Tina Rose, and with a super talented guy named Scott Melott (Groobees fans all know Scott). Scott was kind enough to let me sing harmony and it has been so healing. I absolutely love his songs and voice and most important: he's a sincere guy and easy to get to know. Click here to check out the review of Scott's first show.

This morning I woke up and wrote a song. It was one of those "oh, this is going to be a good one" then when you're all done you want to throw it in the trash but you walk away for a few days and come back for a better perspective. I'll know more in a few days! I no longer commute to Austin and am a bona fide small town girl. Seguin is just big enough to have an HEB and Wal-Mart (and a Super Center at that!), but small enough to see a whole lot of sky and cows. Sigh. From Hollywood, Boston, New York City, Nashville, Houston, Salt Lake City, Austin and now Seguin. The good part is that Seguin feels like part of Austin and San Antonio: we get radio stations from both and tv stations from San Antonio, so it feels like the best of both worlds right now.

Adios.

Libbi
September 16, 2002

Libbi Sez:

BUCK SHOW HAIKU

Casper Rawls
Playing silver telecaster
Attaining twang perfection

Earl Poole Ball
Spanking the keys
With madness, he delivers honky-tonk

David Carroll
Shuffle. Walking.
No stops.

Kevin Owens
High and lonesome
What?!?! The key of F#?!?!

Tom Lewis
Sideburns, stubble
Excellent time, dude

David Beebe
Clark? It's Lois.
Kryptonite can't touch you

Cornell
Interpreting keenly
But someone was Russian

Celeste
In a halter
Life isn't fair

Susanna
Clear voice
Ringing like a beautiful bell

Toni Price
Tearing it up
Need I say more?

Myself
Following Toni
Knees knocking, drinking whiskey

Derailers
Stealing the show
Bringing down the house

Dianne
The gatekeeper
Goddess of Congress, with fabulous highlights

Jug Band
Crazy, beautiful music
From the mouths of inspired babes

Champ
Easy-going
Just hanging 'round

Shoeshine
Cranky as all get-out
Y'all too loud!

Steve W
The man
Generous, always, and good to us all

Another excellent year at the Buck Owens Birthday Bash. Too many great performances to mention (including an appearance by Doyle from the original Buckaroos). Hey, I can only Haiku so long. Proud to be part of it. I felt the love in the air, the friendship. I'm pretty sure Champ and Shoeshine Charley were there somehow, too. Thanks, Casper, Tom and Steve.

Libbi
August 13, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Just thought I'd pass on this email I got from a friend whose name I won't mention (okay, it's Kevin Hall) about a gig he took before he got the details. The good/bad news? It's true so often! Showbiz! And I quote:

I really need to start asking more questions...I'm the king of "sure, I'll do it!!" Then you find out it's in Odessa, and it pays $50 per man.....rooms not iincluded.... the club owner wants to hear "Muskrat Love" and "Achy BreakyHeart".... the club's actually on the 3rd floor, you have to load inthrough the kitchen, out the side door and then up the fire escape....thekitchen's actually under construction and there was a water main break, you have to wade through 1/2" of water, biscuit mix and grease to get to the stairs.. The club sound guy has hearing aids and coke bottle glasses, and he gives you a blank stare when you ask where the monitors are. The stage floor is ceramic tile with mirror walls on all sides, all the mics are Radio Shack...oh, forgot to mention there's an Iron Maiden cover band opening the show, they'll need to use your equipment. There's one outlet (the one on the top...the one on the bottom's been fried since Carter was President, and we can't figure out why)..The owner's wife is a huge fan of Patsy Cline, and she does the most amazing rendition of "Crazy" you've ever heard...you ask her what key she'd like it in, she says "what do you mean?"...

Thought you'd like it. Right on, Kev.

Libbi
July 30, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Once again, a sheepish apology for the delay in writing. I have been superswamped with commuting back and forth to work and the kiddos and rehabbing my voice in Houston and San Antonio. And yes, even a couple of gigs. Geez, I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Plus, my hard drive said Adios, Gringa and I have finally got it working again in my leisurely spare time. Ha.

Wazzup with my voice? Well, I'm very happy to report it's on the mend. I played a party about a month after my surgery and I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. I was horrified. But, weeks of speech therapy, healing time, shutting my trap up on occasion (gathp!) and excellent singing rehab have helped my voice develop again. I have since had two gigs at Gruene Hall. One on June 17th and one on July 15th, and with each gig my voice improved, although I still have a long way to go before my voice is "reliable." It does tend to "peel out" and get awfully worn out, but I know it's just a matter of being patient (thuffering thucotash). Thankfully at my gigs I saw a little light at the end of the tunnel that made me realize my hard work is paying off. And I am so thankful. It feels so incredible to have moments where I feel like a singer again after soooo long. So, I will keep driving to Houston to see my Rehab Specialist/Master Goddess Wizardess, will listen to my Doctor/I'm Not Worthy/Thank You for Taking on Such a High Maintenance Girl Singer and get there when I get there. I hope to see y'all soon out on the hardwood floor--I am dreaming up (literally) all sorts of new songs and can't wait to start playing them for you. I am also starting to put my voice to work singing harmony here and there. Starting over again. Again.

Your humble(d) servant,

Libbi
July 29, 2002
PS Not that they give a hoot about my opinion, but I have been repeatedly impressed by the Dixie Chicks of late. Twang on, sisters.

Libbi Sez:

I know I haven't been good at writing and I apologize. Even cowgirls get the blues, as they say, and I guess I've had mine. It's kind of hard to write, listen to alot of music, go hear other singers when inside I am aching to be onstage. So, I guess I am coping the only way I know how, by just laying back out of sight. I have been going to speech therapy to rehabilitate my speaking voice, and now that that is winding down I will be driving to Houston to work with an injured voice specialist. Probably after working with her for a while I should have a better idea of how my voice is healing. There is some possibility of another surgery; time will tell. Just give me the silly gas.

Until then, however, I am commuting to Austin from my new hometown of Seguin (made famous in the Charlie Robison/Natalie Maines Wedding Song) and trying to unpack the boxes from our disastrous house. Today was sort of the ultimate mother's day: My little one, Hank, has been sick and today I went through several changes of clothing with him. And I am talking about MY clothes needing changed. Let's just say he had it coming out both ends. And there was spillage. I should have called the EPA. Everything went in the washer including his clothes, my clothes, the sofa slipcover, the comforter, etc. Then...

This evening I took my older son to swimming lessons at a local fitness center (and I use that term loosely). My husband had taken him the evening before for the first night and had warned me that he thought the Frat Brat giving lessons was not so on the ball, and that one kid had even fallen in the water. Well, I had my eagle eyes on, and when it came time for my son to jump in, he jumped in GREAT, but then a kid sitting on the edge of the pool fell in and the swim coach took off after the other kid, leaving my kid to sink to the bottom. I dove in and even though my son was halfway on the other side I bet I had him in my arms and off the bottom in three seconds flat. I was soaked of course, because the parents aren't supposed to be going in the pool, but gee, there's that little thing about saving your child's life. Let's just say the coach and the owner of the place got an extra you know what courtesy of me and I got my money back and I may even call the Better Biz Bureau unless I cool off. My favorite was when I told the owner that there were too many kids in the class and the coach couldn't possibly watch that many and her response was "Yea, too many kids signed up." Those darn kids, always starting trouble. He's safe, just a little scared. I'm still rattled. All in the day of being a mom. Now I turn the computer over to him to play Sesame Street.

Hasta.

Libbi
May 29, 2002

PS Missed the ACM awards; don't have cable and we get zilch for stations (I'm the only one on the planet who hasn't seen Ozzy, so I can't give my usual Dish on clothes.

Libbi Sez:

I know I've been hideously remiss about writing, but have had many irons in the fire. In fact, I think that should be my new name. Sort of like Dances with Wolves. Many Irons in Fire. Or even better: Spinning Wheels, No Traction Yet. Or how about Spread Thin Strung Out. Anyway, I digress. And I'm just getting started.

Well, my husband and I have entered a new chapter in our lives. We bought a house and moved. Shocking I know for the Original Wandering Spirit, but even us wandering spirits got to have someplace to store all our tupperware and skinny clothes. It's an insanely serene feeling having a house, knowing that I won't have to move again when the lease is up. Ah, true peace.

Trouble on the vocal front. The cord in question isn't vibrating yet. It's going to take some hard work. Or should I say more hard work. I have been driving to San Antonio twice a week for voice rehab and it is greatly helping. Someone recently thought I was depressed because I wasn't my usual boisterous self--just trying to preserve the old pipes. Turning over a new leaf and all. No more of the Libbi cackle. No more screaming, hooting and hollering. I'm saving it all for the stage, the main event. Speaking of the main event, it may be awhile before I am back singing in full voice. I am trying to find a couple off the beaten path places so I can set up with my guitar, get a vocal workout, and just, dammit, try to get my voice back. The surgery was a success but I need that cord vibrating to make purdy sounds. It's frustrating but I know if I can discipline myself to the inth degree I can make it work. Cross your fingers for me.

I'll write soon. Swear.

Libbi
May 5, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Got my new voice installed. I ordered the Aretha Franklin/Barbra Streisand swirl, but my insurance wouldn't pay for it, so I opted for old reliable. So far it's creaking along in fits and starts, but I expect as I ease out of voice rest it'll purr like a nice overhauled engine. I have to say a public thank you to my most excellent doctor, Dr. Blake Simpson in San Antonio. Dr. Simpson came highly recommended, having been a Fellow (or "fella" for y'all Texans) at the Vanderbilt Voice Center in Nashville. He really listened to my complaints and believed me when I told him something was wrong, even when we couldn't see it on the camera. He followed through and exhausted all other probable causes of my problems and finally recommended surgery. In surgery and under a more powerful lens, Dr. Simpson found what is called a sulcus vocalis. Did I say that right? Sounds like mush. First day with my new mouth. Literally!

Let me attempt to properly describe this: In 1993 I had a varix, which is sort of like a swollen vein, on my right cord. I had problems with my voice intermittently and it got progressively worse over the last couple of years. Probably what happened is the varix caused some type of damage which preceded the sulcus vocalis. A sulcus vocalis is somewhat rare and sort of like scar tissue that forms a rut. It was preventing the cord from vibrating properly, which of course is one of the main ways the cord makes pitch, and the other cord was trying to make up for the lack of vibration and getting overworked. This was wreaking havoc with my pitch and my voice was so sore and low pitched in my chest that I had started lowering keys to my songs. Frankly, I sounded like a man, baby! A sulcus vocalis can be small, intermediate or large (Tall, Grande, or Venti for those of you...oh, forget it). Mine was intermediate. Dr. Simpson opened that problem cord up, repaired the damage and the cord is healing beautifully so far. One great benefit to this particular problem is that in order to get the cord vibrating, I have to sing! So although it may take a while to get it all together, I'll be doing rehab starting immediately and getting back to singing.

I am excited and nervous. I had to do a little speaking today and I woke up this morning sounding like Minnie Mouse and having visions of spending the rest of my career entertaining for children and babies at birthday parties. I've already done the "two tooth circuit" once, thank you very much. Not in the way of singing lullabyes to babies, but in the beer joints and assorted hellholes of my early days. Thankfully, I don't think I'll be doing Michael Row Your Boat Ashore as I can already feel the cobwebs clearing. Dr. Simpson says my voice sounds healthy so far, all things considered. My cords aren't really closing, and if the cord heals and I am still having problems, there may possibly be another surgery involved to get that fat injection done to help them close, but that's a bridge I'll cross when I get to it. For now, I am just happy that my voice is recovering. I feel like I got a "voice lift." Next week, when I am back to flapping my yap, watch out if you run into me, because I plan to make up for lost time. In a manner of speaking. Yuk, yuk.

Libbi
April 2, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Outstanding moments at the Academy Awards:

1. Gwyneth Paltry.
2. Halle, when you get tired of that delicious husband, can I have a nibble?
3. "I didn't win an award this year, but I'd like to thank the Academy, my boyfriend, his wife..."
4. Nice dress, Friar. Or was that UPS Employee of the Year?
5. A flapper tux. What will they think of next?
6. I personally thought J. Lo looked fabulous (seriously). In a Hissyfit from last year, I discussed the pros and cons of big hair vs. big butt; obviously I am on the cutting edge of fashion.
7. I am pretty sure that was Cameron's nipple showing through her dress, but it was hard to tell for sure since my husband's head was two inches away from the t.v. screen. That nipple look is SO last year. And the year before. Ask J. Lo.
8. Mr. Former Best Actor. Shave and a haircut. Two bits.
9. Monsieur Frenchman: oui, oui!
10. God bless Faith Hill for gaining five pounds and joining the mere mortals for once.

Libbi
March 26, 2002

Libbi Sez:

This is in response to a guestbook entry I got from Marcia about Harvey Sid Fisher. (sorry the guestbook is gone, it was a mini-scandal!)

Marcia, I was really looking forward to singing with Harvey Sid but I'm at a point in my life where self-respect is a hell of a lot more important to me than being hip. If sticking up for myself and my friends makes me old and out of touch, then bring on the walker and blue hair.

Libbi
March 22, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Well, the freak show that descended upon Austin, also known as South By Southwest, has ended in a quiet manner, with a cool, drizzly Sunday afternoon down on South Congress. Gee, I guess the record company executives must have left their pens at home, seeing as I didn't get any offers to sign any contracts. Yuk, yuk. I did get to see alot of good bands, including the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash, who were great, and Rex Hobart, who really hypnotized me with his pure country music and sincere songs. And not a cool shirt or hat anywhere in the band. He was simplistic, unaffected and excellent. Can't wait to get his record and hear him again.

Part of SXSW made me sad, with everything that's been going on with my voice. I ache to be singing in full voice again. To be crooning honky tonk sounds instead of my voice just teasing me. I will be having surgery on my voice (yikes) in a couple of weeks. I have to say, I'm a bit freaked out, not sure if I'll ever be able to sing again the way I used to. I think the doctor is excellent and has taken my case to heart, but it's not 100% clear what's actually wrong with my voice. All I know is it is the way it is, which changes day to day. Somedays it hurts like hell. Somedays it feels better. Regardless of how it feels, it has definitely deteriorated and I struggle to sing, and although some days I can skate by the audience better, my voice feels like the skin shed from a snake--misplaced. I miss my skin. There is always a possibility that my voice will stay the same or even get worse, but I am hoping and planning for the best. I have to go to the doctor this week to get fitted for "protective gear" for my teeth. The doctor said "if you value your teeth, and most people do, go get this device made." I value my teeth so I'm getting the gear. But who knows? Maybe I should have him knock a few teeth out just to add to my honky-tonk credibility. He did mention that he might have to inject some fat from my gut (okay, he didn't use the word gut) into my vocal cords. I told him he could take all the fat he wanted to, and give me a tuck while he's at it. Anyway, the hardest part is that I won't be able to utter a peep for an entire week. My husband will be in heaven. Y'all wish me luck. I do value my teeth and am going to get fitted for the mouth device. Ironic isn't it? A mouthpiece for the mouthpiece--me.

Libbi
March 18, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Finally, some things have been made right in the world of country music. The Grammy nominees alone were impressive. Grammys went home with their rightful owners for a change. Dolly, girlfriend, you are brilliant. First of all, to even think of recording Shine shows genius. It works great as a bluegrass/gospel song. I get irritated when covers are done just to be cool, but occasionally an artist seems truly inspired by a song, as in the case with Dolly (Dwight has also done right by some fine tunes). Ralph Stanley: beautiful. Lucinda: justified. U2: deserved. Alicia Keys is good but she got on my nerves with her homegirl signifying affected accent, although she scored points with her eye shadow. Loved the white India.Arie dress made by her mother: cotton with a scarf of her mother's for good luck. Steve Vai gets the Jon Bon Jovi award for getting a haircut instead of hanging on to the Ratt look. Sheryl Crow needs to eat something, but obviously doesn't have time as she apparently had an appointment with a Masochist after the show. And those country girls whose names I won't mention? I believe Muumuus went out for a reason and unless you are Mrs. Roper, a bona fide diva or appearing in a John Waters film, you should not be wearing one. Especially with no makeup. Oh no you did not (well, fuck it, they haven't recorded any of my songs anyway!). Admittedly, country music is not known for it fashion sense. Hillbillies get money and all of a sudden you get "grandeur" like Hurricane Mills popping up all over the country. I missed Patti Labelle and I am so sorry because, well, let's just say she's worthy of a Muumuu. I actually loved that cover of Marmalade as I think Missy is....what do the kids say these days? Proper and on-time, according to my sources. N'SNOOZE was a waste of air time. Even the hired dancers had to tone down their talent to make Justin and the boys (and I mean boys) looked good. Speaking of N'SYNC: O Brother, WHY art thou? I thought Outkast was Outstanding. I had never seen them and was captivated. The song was not only rhythmic but catchy and they were creative and damn good. I wonder if that wig was a throw-away of Dolly's when it lost its curl? Hmm. I'm going to start checking her trash. Emmylou, Gillian and Alison: simply perfect. Not above their raising and down home. And all about the music. There wasn't a sequined gown and big hair to be seen (except for Britney). With T-Bone taking it home, all in all I'd say country music had a banner day.

Libbi
February 28, 2002

Meow. Kitty wants a saucer of milk.

Libbi Sez:

Rest in peace, Waylon. Thanks for the great music, and for pioneering the alt.country way of life.

Libbi
February 13, 2002

Libbi Sez:

Yesterday we played at the airport in Austin and my big mouth just about got me into trouble again. I said the "T" word at the airport (not onstage) and thought we were going to go into lockdown. It got me a chiding from management and I let it roll off my shoulders, but it got me thinking. Why should I be afraid to say the word "terrorist" in a conversation, especially when I think the conversation is headed in that direction? What, am I supposed to pretend that September 11th never happened? There were three armed national guards standing not 20 yards from me with M-16 rifles. Believe me, I, like many, would love to wake up and it be September 10th all over again with the oppotunity to change the course of history, but it ain't going to happen. Hasn't our world become too politically correct? Isn't that exactly what got us into trouble in the first place? Not trusting our instincts? Recall that the actor James Woods reportedly was on one of the same flights from Boston a week earlier and saw some suspicious persons of Middle Eastern descent in First Class and reported it to authorities, but what was one to do, pre-September 11th? At what point do people stop using their instincts and intuition and rely on the politically correct rule of the day...? I admit, I have always been afraid when I have flown and seen someone of Middle Eastern descent on board because of hijackings, etc., but I would try to quell my fears and tell myself it was "wrong." What is the line between common sense and political correctness? I consider myself un-prejudiced and very fair minded, but I am at the same time worn out by trying to remember the PC phrase du jour. I said "black person" recently and felt about 2 feet tall when my friend said "African-American" in the next sentence. I honestly thought African-American was not PC anymore. I don't even know how to refer to myself. Am I white? Caucasian? Anglo-Saxon? The forms say something different everytime I go to the doctor's office. Half the time I refer to myself as Betty Cracker, so I could care less what someone calls me, as long as the intent is not malicious. I have a