I awoke this morning with this question in my head: “What the hell is your problem? You’ve had a motorcycle for over a year now. Why aren’t you on the road?”

Well, it’s because my license was suspended in a freak accident when I still lived in Bloomington, Indiana. You see, I was late on my insurance payment therefore they forfeited coverage for a total of three days. What could happen in three days? Some blind college student sideswipes you from the alley and totals your car, that’s what. The state then found out about my lack of insurance and suspended my license. This was 1999. I haven’t driven (legally) since then.

So I’ve decided it’s time. I have to fork over a substantial amount of money to Indiana, get my Illinois driver’s license (a feat in and of itself what with all the paperwork and red tape), take a motorcycle class, get my motorcycle up and running (something that I will put in the hands of an actual mechanic and not my own), track down the dude in California that gave (yes, gave) me the motorcycle for the title, and, finally get my motorcycle license. I plan to have this finished by summer so as to enjoy the weather like I never have before. You see, I’ve never even ridden on a motorcycle.  But that doesn’t mean I CAN’T. Goddamn right I’ll arrive at your door with a helmet and a bug in my nose and a hunger for a tuna salad sandwich.

April tagged me…so as to not let her down…

1. I can’t believe I’ve never… been to a strip club. There were some close calls…like when we found out that a girl from high school with whom everyone thought was gorgeous was dancing at Night Moves, the strip joint in Bloomington, Indiana. I couldn’t build up the courage…not from a fear of nudity but more a fear that she would be terribly disappointing.

I plan on resolving this plan in the most absurd way: traveling to Bangkok, Thailand, to visit my long time friend BeardSex and partaking in the “scene” in Thailand. If you’re gonna break your strip club cherry, why not go full out and involve underage girls with ping pong balls?

2. Every time I think about…I still cringe. The 36 staples I received after emergency reconstructive surgery on my elbow. I would have to do these exercises so my ligaments/tendons/muscles wouldn’t “lock up.” In doing so, this mucous-y shit would come out, mix with the metal, and form dried, green crusties all up and down my arm. My rehabilitationist (is that a real job or a made up word?) would pull out the tweezers and go to town picking off all the little pain boogers. I was never so happy to get 36 pieces of metal ripped out of my arm.

3. I wish I’d…when I had the chance. Talked to Tom Waits when I saw him at the SFMOMA. He was with his wife and son (who followed behind huffing and sighing and wearing sweatpants) so I used my better judgement and left the man alone. That’s not to say I didn’t wait in the lobby for him to reappear…whereas I had a list of things to say to him if given the opportunity. Life, being the way it is, said, “No.”

4. I’ve never felt so out of place as when I… wandered into a leather bar looking for an event that was blocks away. Easiest free drink I ever received, though!

5. …is/are my guiltiest pleasure. Pleasure is not a guilty thing…but finding pleasure in Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” is.

6. I hope…knows how grateful I am for… I hope the European metal scene knows how grateful I am for their mix of pure evil, quote-worthy interviews, and gorgeous corpsepaint.

7. In my darkest hours, I secretly blame…for my dysfunction. I blame no one for my dysfunction. I don’t feel as if I have one. I do blame the church for instilling a sense of unneeded guilt, but that is the thread that runs through most people and, in the end, will destroy society.

8. …changed my life forever. Death metal.

I’m tagging Rebecca, iTod, and Jenny.