The Trip From Hell
Edinburgh, though beautiful and mild, has been almost a complete disaster. It started sucking in NYC when I was rushing for the train and one heart from my favorite pair of pink heart earrings slipped off my ear, fell to the ground and cracked in half. I took that broken heart to be a bad omen. How could I not? The nasty mojo carried on with me to the plane and straight into Dublin. The festival there was fun but of course I was treated like a leper by certain uptight dick wads with my inappropriate brightly colored clothing and my songs about vaginas.
I had some really good sets at the International Bar, even though my one big show at the Bud Light Festival, thanks in part to technical difficulties, was an atrocity.
And I sold lots of "My Pussy Is Magic" panties, which was encouraging.
My friend, who I was supposed to drive to Edinburgh with, changed his plans and it turned out I'd have to fly from Dublin instead. Anyone who knows me knows that flying is my least favorite thing to do. Ever.
Luckily, I got to fly with England-based performer Dr. CocacolaMcDonalds, who I like very much. He reminded me of America, which at this point, I was almost beginning to miss. No one or thing can abuse me and get away with it the way that NYC does.
That's just the beginning of this shit storm. But writing this is depressing me. So more later, including my first review and what it said...can you guess?