despite hurricane, hookers and blow entertain the gop convention

a long time ago when i was roommates with tsar and mr hollow tree, we were often finding ourselves sitting around the tv or driving in a car or walking up to the video czar talking. and when we did someone would say something and someone would say, antioxidant deodorant? now that would be a good band name!

then someone would appropriate a metal falsetto and shriek “we are antioxidant deodorant and we have come to ROCK YOU Des Moines!”

if that passed the test we would then debate how it would look in the listings of the LA Weekly.

Hookers & Blow = rock band name genius fo sho

because the republican national convention is happening in st. paul

and because we havent caught up with our favorite minnesotian blogger, i sent off an email and asked for an update

and little did i know that lindsay has been writing again on her blog, but she has broken up with her bazillionaire bf, moved out of his many mansions, and is back on her own the way she was when she was first introduced to the busblog.

heres part of an email she sent yesterday:

The billionaire broke up with me, well sort of. He still insisted upon seeing me and I existed in a place where I was neither his nor anyone else’s, a sort of purgatory, constantly stumbling backwards and forwards for a few weeks. Things had changed but they also hadn’t, I suppose it’s easy to fall back into familiar habits without much resistance because its what you’ve come to know and expect. And now, he’s attending convention related events, or what is left of them after all of the announced cancellations, my tickets having been revoked and reassigned once the separation became official. As far as the convention goes there seems to be a surplus of self important, hard liquor drinking, good old boys populating all of my local haunts.

But anyway, I’ve retreated back to the suburban paradise so generously afforded by my parents, between the break-up and the multiple break-ins at my apartment, it seemed like the natural thing to do. And now I’m doing what any lost post-adolescent soul feels compelled to do, save thousands of dollars to buy a home, a life of trans-Atlantic wandering, or a very expensive handbag. The thing is, I’m not quite sure which to do. With the newfound freedom from the billionaire, which by the way was unexpected and came about rather casually, I haven’t the slightest plan for the next year let alone the next few days. I thought I’d be planning a wedding, not my own life, all of which is strangely exhilarating.

Today I said goodbye to him, well actually I stormed out of his front door, thus neatly ending the we’re seeing each other but definitely not with each other phase of the breakup. Tomorrow I am going to collect the remainder of my belongings and that will the end of it until we find ourselves oddly together beneath the roof of the shiny office towers on Tuesday, where I intend for it to be business as usual.

keep up with miss minnesota here.