Sunday, February 13, 2011

Tortured Love

I used to be in a band called Peanut Butter and Fluff. I was Peanut Butter, my roommate Melanie was Fluff. Together, we were Peanut Butter and Fluff.

Melanie sang and played lead guitar; I sang,and backed Melanie up by playing imaginary guitar. To the casual observer it may have appeared that I was just waving my hand around uselessly over the guitar strings but, hey, that was part of the magic.

While unpacking some boxes a few days ago, I found some prints from a promotional photo shoot that we did before a concert back in 2002.

Photographs by Alexandra McDougall

We specialized in creepy love songs, but also penned such classics as, "What the Hell is Wrong With You?" and "Foreskin (Don't Cut It)."

In honor of Valentine's Day, I have decided to share the lyrics that I penned for our emotionally-charged ballad, "Tortured Love Song." Enjoy!

Tortured Love Song
Lyrics by Lola Cutter Hensel
Music by Melanie Drisoll

Your love is torturing me
like a crazy sadist who can't see.
Your love is torturing me
like no toilets when you have to pee.

Your love makes me feel
like I'm on the rack
with whips and chains
flaying my back.
Yeah, your love makes me howl,
it's like being disemboweled.


Your love is torturing me
like a crowbar smashing my knees.
Your love is torturing me
like the inquisition on a spree.

Your love makes me feel
like I'm on the rack,
with whips and chains
flaying my back.
Yeah, your love makes me howl,
it's like being disemboweled,
I've been fouled
by your love.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Just Like His Father

Everyone's families have certain stories that they love to tell - beloved anecdotes that are shared over the dinner table, time and time again. My Grammy had one tale in particular that she just never got tired of telling.

"Whenever I'd take you out in your stroller," she'd tell me, "People would stop and say, 'Oh my goodness! He looks JUST like his father!'"

Yup. She never got tired of that one.

Lest you think she might have been exaggerating, though, here are a few pictures for you to consider:

In fact, photographic evidence suggests that I was of completely indeterminate gender until age... oh, I don't know... Six? Eight? Seventeen?

Oh well. At least, as my bib suggests in the middle picture, I was always ready to party!

Saturday, February 5, 2011

I Have a Stalker

Yesterday, I discovered that I have a stalker. One who followed me over two thousand miles, all the way from Massachusetts to Texas.

Snow, you are a creep.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Journey to the Center of the Earth

I have, since I was fairly young, been plagued by occasional migraines. About once or twice a month a vicious, head-crushing, stomach-churning migraine sweeps in and leaves me curled in a fetal position, my eyes squeezed shut, feeling like my brain is going to start leaking out my nose. On two separate occasions in the past year, I've stumbled to a mirror and checked to see if either side of my face was sagging, convinced that I was experiencing a stroke.

Things started to get better a few months ago when my doctor prescribed a migraine medication that I can administer via a syringe injection. The stuff usually works like a charm and is thus far the greatest proof I have experienced that there is a merciful God. The injection hurts a bit but, I tell myself, for someone who has spent hours over the years getting tattooed, one little needle prick is no big deal.

Well, speaking of tattoos: Last week I spent three hours sitting for the beginning of a new tattoo - a big black and gray beauty that takes up about two thirds of the left side of my back. It's healing, but it's still a bit raw.

So, tonight, when I was down with a particularly nasty migraine, I decided it was time to crawl to the medicine cabinet for a dose of my medication. There are a few funky side effects to the medication, all of which I thought I had already experienced and was used to.


Months back, when I read over the potential side effect list that came with my medication, I must have missed where it said, "WARNING: May make fresh tattoos feel like angry, burning, fiery doom."

I went from feeling like this:

To feeling like this:

I now have an idea of what it might be like to recline on the earth's molten core.