I have a stye
in my eye
and I think I'm going to die.
Yes, I am going to die from the stye in my eye.
Jesus Christ, I sound like Dr. Suess.
*~*
Seriously, I somehow got this stye in my eye and it's totally freaking me out. I've never had one before. I thought it was red and puffy from my rubbing it the night before and then my peeps at work broke it down for me.
"Partygirl," they said, "You have a stye in your eye. Don't touch it."
Ick. Isn't that gross? YUCKKIE! It's not like ooooozing or anything but it itches like Robert Downey Jr. in a Mormon Temple lockdown and it's a conscious effort for me not to touch it. It's like chicken pox on your eye.
It is Satan. But I will not succumb to it's misery.
This does not bode well for a good weekend.
*~*
Did I tell you about my meeting the other day? Me, at a conference room table, with 8 men. Let me rephrase, 8 men - 1 Partygirl. Those are some odds. Welcome to the world of corporate players. I suppose I should feel accomplished to be invited to sit at the table and play? But it still feels a little odd. Ladies - it's times like that when you are reminded that there is indeed, a glass ceiling. Know it, recognize it, and then forget it. Who gives a shit? It's not going to hold me back.
The key to situations like that, is to maintain your stronghold and never allow them to push you out of the loop. That, and make sure you know a secret about everyone sitting at the table. Then hint that you know their secret - a knowing look, a name dropped - and you will never lose your footing. (haha)
I'm starting to feel like Sharon Osborne. Particularly since Billy Corgan also makes me sick.
Which reminds me, I was reading Rolling Stone last night and the story on the people crushed at Roskilde was just totally devasting. Kudos to Oasis (never thought I would be saying that) and The Pet Shop Boys for refusing to go on after that. I think Eddie Vedder really handled the situation well, without freaking out the audience and calmly asking them to step back from the stage. Uggh, my stomach just sinks to think about being at a show and being asked to step back and taking those steps and looking down and seeing that what you thought was a SANDBAG you were standing on was really a body. God, could you imagine??? It's so horrifying for everyone involved.
I remember this time in 1994, at Lallapalooza, which Toastgirl and I now lovingly refer to as CLOG CHAOS. Anyway, it was a rainy day and the show in Phillie was held in this park so it was a mess. And I was wearing clogs, black leather tops and wooden bottoms. Beastie's were headlining. I'm obsessed with the Beastie's. So I work my way up to the front of the mosh pit. I am 3 bodies from the barrier to the stage. And all I can feel are people crushing against me, pushing me even closer to the stage, and I can see the people in front of me really smushing against the barrier. I saw Ad Rock bend down to the kids in front of me, against the barrier, and twice he asked them to move back. He said, "you guys HAVE to back up, someone's going to get hurt here." Not on the mike, he instictively bent down and said this to them while Mike D. was on the mike. It was very perceptive. Actually, it's the only time I've seen a band on stage recognize that the audience is getting hurt. And I see a lot of bands. I thought that was really cool.
So the problem, (which, BTW readers, would ONLY happen to Partygirl) was that my clog was sinking into the mud and finally it gets stuck but I am still getting smushed. So I do what you should NEVER, EVER DO IN A MOSH PIT. I bend down to pull the clog out of the mug. Big Mistake. Huge. From behind in the crowd, I'm sure it looked like there was a hole in the audience, so people start pushing from behind me to get closer. I get pushed down. Now I am laying face down in the mud and before I know it, these guys are stepping on me. And I am squirming around and pushing their legs but this one guy NAILED me on my back with his boot. OUCH! That hurt like a bitch.
Anyway, the next thing I know, I am back up in the air and being carried out, above someone's head, through the mosh pit, to the side. Some huge guy, had bent down and picked me up and carried me out of there. He was like, "are you okay??" I was like, "I think so?" but I was just covered in mud. So I ask him to check out my back and get this, he lifts up my shirt and I have a welt imprinted on my back, wrapping around my side, that reads "TIMBERLAND" with the little imprint of a tree or whatever that is their LOGO. My mother was appalled when I showed her that.
Anyway, I thank him. He goes back in. I, the glutton for punishment, and determined not to get separated from my friends, who are still in the mosh pit, decide to work my way back in. Kids, I don't even get halfway to the middle when I my stupid clog gets caught in the mud again and I bend down to get it, get knocked over again, and some OTHER GUY has to pick me up and get me out of there. This guy carried me to the First Aid Tent. After that, I was like F my friends, I'm outta that freakin' pit.
Meanwhile, during this period, Toastgirl is out of her mind and gets knocked over by an equally wasted Courtney Love - and remember this is just a couple of months after Kurt shot himself. I was so bitter I missed this incident. Shortly after Courtney knocked over Toastgirl, she went onstage between acts and took the mike, demanding "A moment of silence for my DEAD HUSBAND! SHUT UP YOU FUCK IN THE BACK!" and singing that song with the chorus "Why did you die? why did you die?" or something like that. It was the most rock 'n roll fucked up display of raw pain I have ever seen in my life and it's the defining moment when I started to like her. She really didn't have it so easy. Even though my brother insists she killed Kurt.
Who cares who killed Kurt, anyway? I couldn't ever understand what the hell Kurt was saying.
Oh, I hope Toastgirl reads this and decides to tell the Courtney story.
But back to my point. The kids killed in Roskilde. So sad. Even sadder to read the report in RS, which says that after the kids moved away from the stage, the screen behind the soundboard showed Vedder, desolately staring into the 7-foot long area where the 9 young bodies lay motionless - he was weeping. It gives me chills. I can't even imagine what was going through his mind at that point. And I really don't want to.
I feel really bad. And I wasn't even there.
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