Xxxicana’s Weblog

The band finally came up with a name — SPYBOY — which is a reference to the Mardi Gras Indians who would have a spyboy to keep watch for rival tribes.

Here’s the lineup: Tory on bass, Stan on Drums, Tom on Guitar, and James on Guitar

Tory is a bass wunderkind . . . and he’s only 17!

All the way from San Antonio . . . . Stan the Mexicutioner

Here’s James with his voodoo eyes . . . he’s from New Orleans . . . and belts out great soulful songs

Mister Man tunes his guitar before the gig starts.

Check out the new Chucks for the gig!

It was a fabulous premier. The band played great, lots of friends came out to see.

Greg, Lisa, and Tom

Soup night group minus a few soupers.

Patti (our fav KZUM dj) and Joan

Doug and Shari

Metalheads/Newlyweds Willa and Dominique

Leslie, Stan’s wife and our vecina!

C’est moi, striking a pose

Hmm, should I rethink the purple eye shadow??

Yesterday I woke up a bit hung over from the previous night’s revelry . . . I was sitting sipping my coffee when it hit me . . . S*%T . . . I have to go to a Halloween party today! MY BFFs Mary and Cynthia have a huge annual bash for all to enjoy. They bought me an Amy Winehouse wig and begged me to come to the party. So here’s what Amy would look like if she lived a clean wholesome life in the midwest:

Meaning that she would have to gain the Nebraska 40 (in her case it would have to be 80)!

The first question was: Champagne or a beer?

Cynthia and her husband dressed as Teletubbies:

It’s hard not to love a man who will put on a silly costume so his daughter will have fun!

I’m mad a Mary, she had a TinkieWinkie costume, but never put it on. She’s the one in the orange shirt. She is either giving an elaborate explanation of primate dentition or trying to explain to me why she doesn’t have her costume on.

The party was a great success, even for the children:

I received a text message from Mister Man at 11pm . . . gently asking if I was ok . . .

I think of myself like Edina of AbFab . . . you know, the pudgy fashionista . . . if there’s still more champagne to drink, I ain’t comin’ home!