Wake Me When The Show Is Over

I used to wait til midnight then it was time to rock
Now I’m frightened if a band goes on past 10 o clock

Pre Chorus:
So find me a nice corner
Safe from the mosh pit
Throw an MC over me
Whatever you see fit
And you can call me old
And you can go ahead and mock
Just tell everybody else
How hard I friggin rocked

Cause it’s hard to get your kicks
When you’re waking up at six
Call me old, call me a poseur
But just wake, oh wake me, wake me, when the show is over

Well I have seen Black Sabbath, The Rolling Stones and more
But every time I just end up passed up on the floor

Pre Chorus
So put my somewhere safe
A little out of touch
If they ask just tell them
That I drank too much
Fill me in on details
So I can give my take
Of how it would have been if I
Were actually awake

Cause it’s hard to get your kicks
When you’re waking up at six
Call me old, call me a poseur
But just wake, oh wake me, wake me when the show is over

Well it used to be I didn’t even wake up until noon
And I didn’t leave my house until the rising of the moon
But now that kind of living well it’s showing me no mercy
Especially when I am having dinner at 4:30.

Another, and quite possibly the last for a while…for The Angsty Old Ladies!


Mommy Goes Back To Metal: A Surly Middle-Aged Woman’s Review Of Ozzfest/Knotfest 2016

I digressed a bit from my usual interview kind of format to do a review of Knotfest/Ozzfest. It’s pretty funny. You can read it here. I have another article that I will post tomorrow that is truer to my usual format.

The fam relaxes on a grassy knoll away from the insanity.

The fam relaxes on a grassy knoll away from the insanity.

Fairies Wear Boots: Behind The Music

Cecilia was a fairy girl
Who never fussed or cussed
But flew around in forests sprinkling
Love and fairy dust

Until she did get bored one day
Of always being nice
And called on Fairy Godmother
To ask for some advice

And her godmother said to her
“I know about these things
You must go out and live your life
To truly earn your wings

Go out into the human world
Live up and party hard
This amulet will protect you
And here’s my credit card.”

And so Ceclia did go out
To see what she could find
She ran around and had a blast
For all of fairy kind

She went out clubbing, danced on bars
Bathed naked in jacuzzis
Shopped around in high end stores
Drank champagne, ate sushi

Drag raced cars and belly danced
And really lived it up
While snorting lines from dollar bills
Of magic fairy dust

Time came Cecilia to return
And be among her species
But she was now a different girl
And asked to be called CeeCee

Wore halter tops and leather shorts
Hair pink from tip and root
Red lipstick, shadow, cat eye shades
And thigh high leather boots

And with her newfound confidence
She thought she’d take a chance
She grabbed a rather dishy dwarf
And did a dirty dance

Then Ozzy Osbourne did walk by
Was this an aberration?
Or flashbacks of bad acid trips
Causing hallucinations?

He visited the doctor then
To tell him that he saw
A fairy who was wearing boots
Dancing with a dwarf

The doctor said “you see these thing
Just don’t exist at all
You really have to stop the drugs
Get off the alcohol!

Get it together or I fear
Your life will soon be over!”
And laughed off Ozzy when he said
That he was stone cold sober.

I would like to thank Mark Bialczak for nominating me for the ‘If You Are A Quote Lover’ challenge. Of course I bent the rules a bit, but what else is new?

I Really Need A Hobby

I’m in The Who, Black Sabbath and Judas Priest,
And many a rockin’ foursome,
I’m 65% New York, and a wife that’s,
Just 42% awesome.

I’m a hipster mom who’s fit for kindergarten,
And if you think that’s peculiar,
I bet you didn’t know I’m Super Girl although,
My nickname should be Junior.

I’m some kind of peculiar creature from Star Wars,
That I never knew existed,
And apparently I’m on Facebook way too much,
Taking those asinine quizzes.


The Schizophrenic Tendencies of A Rock N’ Roll Super Mom

Sitting in the office, the need to unleash,
The inner working of the beast,
When my work appropriate dress,
Is lost for fishnets and spandex.

Or perhaps at a child’s birthday party,
When I dance on the bar and bust out the Bacardi,
Waiting for my child at school as I wreak havoc,
Insisting all mothers air guitar as I sing Black Sabbath.
Or perhaps sitting bored at a meeting,
I’ll jump up and scream, “I can’t hear you Cleveland!!”

All these thoughts barely contained,
As I apologetically explain,
That I used to play in a  rock n’ roll band,
And never expect them to understand.

rssf app 6:14



You Learn Something New Every Day

Every Monday I anxiously wait for the Daily Post to announce their Weekly Writing Challenge.  No matter what the challenge is, no matter my level of interest or inspiration, and, consequently, no matter how badly my blog sucks, I force myself to submit something no later than that Thursday.

This week I was absolutely flummoxed. I mean, it isn’t that I haven’t had some wonderful teaching and learning experiences, it’s just that I found none of them unique and fascinating enough to be worthy of 5 minutes of readership.

But if you can’t draw from the past, there’s always the present and the future, right? And you learn something new every day, RIGHT?? That means that I now had three days to experience new heights of educational wonderment that would absolutely blow your mind. But clearly that ain’t gonna happen, so here’s what I did learn:

  • According to the woman who lives across the street if you are the biological mother of a mixed race baby, be prepared to be asked if the baby was adopted on a semi-regular basis.
  • Vans sneakers is coming out with a Star Wars line available June 1st.
  • I can fit an entire pear in my mouth.
  • There’s an exoplanet that is made of ice that is on fire.
  • Of the 4 married couples living in our building, 3 were high school sweethearts
  • Lawn Mower racing is a motor sport that is popular in several states of the U.S.
  • In California rich people live in the hills, in El Salvador poor people do (which makes more sense to you?)
  • If you play a Black Sabbath play list on random you’re likely to hear some weird shit.
  • Some frogs are cannibalistic.
  • Young babies have the ability to drink and breathe at the same time. They lose this ability later in life.
  • If you give a person with dementia nasal spray, it temporarily clears their mind.
  • A real estate company called Movoto ranked the best and worst cities to live in in Indiana. Connersville came in at the very bottom of the list. This also happens to be my husband’s hometown.
  • In the 60s a bunch of hippies decided it would be cool and groovy to camp out on Bob Dylan’s lawn. In response, Dylan bought a gun.
  • There’s a lot of weird and semi-useless facts that you can learn every day if you just pay attention.




Calling All Rock Stars

1984 was a great year for music. I don’t know if George Orwell’s predictions of a dystopia had anything to do with it, but 1984, to me, stands out as a year when every heavy metal band would reach it’s pinnacle in creating the optimum LPs all captured on glorious vinyl. This year would be a climax of two decades or so, of previous hard rock and heavy metal glory.

Yes, I’m talking about the Led Zeppelin, Kiss, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Metallica, and even you Motley Crue. The glorious rock stars of yesteryear.


Now let’s take a step forward and look at the state of music today. Where are all those heavy metal gods, the true rock stars.  Where are the larger than life bulges in the pants, the boys that look like girls and girls that look like boys? Sure I understand that all of this belongs to an error that has since died out. But what have we replaced it with? Sappy banjo playing preppies, mediocre PC nerds, pseudo disco hipsters, ultra sensitive emo kids with weird hair, or, if we’re lucky, bratty second rate punk bands. It’s no wonder that our children are still wearing our rock shirts and listening to our records, now so smartly available in CD format and apparently all over the internet.


Now back to the past. The year is 1985. Tipper Gore leads the PMRC, a committee of repressed housewives, dedicated to taking all the fun out of rock n’ roll. At the time, I did not see the PMRC as a huge threat, but rather an opportunity for rockers to unite and show how intelligent they truly were, while simultaneously proving the stupidity of said bored housewives who’s biggest victory seemed to be putting an easily ignorable label on albums warning of explicit lyrics and, ultimately, wanting us to buy the album EVEN MORE!!


But now, looking back on things, did Tipper Gore win? Surely more raunchy rock stars emerged since then, producing bawdy lyrics and hip grinds. But it seems it was all with a neatly packaged, glossy sheen, that has since disappeared completely to be replaced by a piece of metal, shrink rapped and presented, as if to say, “Here, buy me. This is what you should be listening to. You don’t need to think about anything at all.”

Indeed I feel sorry for young girls whose best wet dreams will prominently feature a Jonas Brother. And while Radiohead is hardly the worst band in the world, and while I understand the feelings of social inadequacy, probably better than anyone else, nobody is more of a creepy weirdo than Alice Cooper. And it’s highly unlikely that “Symptom of the Universe” had anything remotely to do with recycling.


So I conclude with an urgent plea to rockers of the world to put down your coffee cups, unite and rise with a thundering voice. To paraphrase Nora Roberts, “Rock n’ roll is restless, rude, defiant and daring. Once in a while, someone comes along who truly understands, who has the gift to transfer all those needs and emotions into music.”  Where is this person?  Banished to a bar band career because the record company is too afraid to unleash the raw emotions that constitute a rock star? Who will be our savior to deliver us from the corporate grindstone that rock n’ roll has now become?