On Moving, Gigging & Life With Mikey...

"If I can’t drink it or smoke it, I don’t want it," Mikey Pump

So Dolls, things are positively insane here. Not only are we in the process of buying a new house, but we’re also selling, "The Tube," and… as if that isn’t chaotic enough… shooting a Patsy Clinestein video! Oh, and we also have a gig coming up on Monday, June 25th at E-String in Henderson. I suspect that will be the last gig we play until we are moved into the new house… but you never know.

Regarding More Important Matters….

So here I was on Saturday night slumming at Jerry’s Nugget in North Las Vegas when my cell rings. It was probably about midnight. Since only three people have my cell number and one of them is with me and the other is in a different time zone, I know it is Mikey Pump calling.

"Do we have any sheets?," he barks into the phone… no hello, no how are you? Nothing!

"Why?," I ask… Hot date?, I think.

"One of the cats pissed my bed," he informs me, not happy at all.

I tell him we have sheets and where to find them.

"We have to do something about these fuckin’ cats!," he says and hangs up.

Then I started to think… he’d had a few rum and cokes when I’d left him on the couch at about 10pm. Maybe he was just blaming the cats. Maybe he fell asleep and pee’d the bed himself. I mean, cats don’t usually wet the bed. But lo and behold, sweethearts, it was the cats! When I got home several hours later, there was his pee-soaked pillow on the kitchen counter – as if he knew I would suspect him of this horrific display of incontinence and left the distinctly-scented evidence for me to see.

My point, precious ones, is that while Mikey might get inhalers stuck in his nose, he is most assuredly not a bed-wetter.

Stay Fabulous!

I've Lost 800 Pounds!

Daaaaaaarlings!

There’s something positively horrific about this! In the last decade I’ve lost 800 pounds – but it’s always the same 10 pounds! The reason I bring this up is because over the past two weeks I’ve lost those flippin’ 10 pounds again. I swear they’re like a rash – you finally get rid of them and they come back again. So I sit and ponder… is it really the exact same ten pounds? Or are they different pounds? I mean, like did I lose ten pounds off my arms six months ago and then gain them on my ass the following month?

Clearly I’ve never lost them, only temporarily misplaced them. Which brings me to that burning question – where do they go when I’ve misplaced them? Are they waiting in bay somewhere… say my nightstand… secretly plotting to jump back on me the moment I doze off? I’m really hung up on this!

The more I think about it, the more questions I have. Though I’ve absolutely no scientific background, it seems to me that food turns into fat. That would mean that my body fat is made up of an egg roll here, a donut there… I’m the proverbial charm bracelet of meals gone by. Oy Vey! When you look at me do I look like a buffet?

I’ve absolutely got to stop thinking about this!

Stay Fabulous!