I Was in a Band with the Worst Drummer Ever

real fucking jerk, let me tell you. He was all into guns, I could tell. I have a brother-in-law, Wayne, who's into all that, and you can tell when a person's into that kind of thing. He'd talk about parts he'd ordered from magazines, and I was like, "Hmm, this guy's really into this shit. I own one .38, this guy's got a whole motherfuckin' arsenal." I didn't get to know him too well after that -- nobody could get along with him because nobody could tolerate him. Suddently out of nowhere the band broke up, then he killed all those people and we were all brought back together again just long enough for them to talk to us and interview us. They'd show up out of nowhere. It pissed my mom off -- she cussed at them and chased some of them off because they were tresspassing on private property. I'll tell you something about reporters -- they can be some of the most conniving people in the world. When they're asking you something they can be so sweet. Some of them area good at what they do and are straightforward and honest and some of them are cutthroat and conniving as shit, and I seemed to attract those. They'd make up their own shit as they went along. I heard all kinds of shit all over town, like I'd been to bed with him. I remember at the time I'd broken up with a guy named JD Harrison and he kept stalking me so I decided to play a trick on him. I had another reporter come up to me and I said, "You know, I know somebody that knows George Hennard realy well, if you know what I'm saying," and I gave them his name and address and they went over there thinking he was the ex gay-lover of Geoerge Hennard! I hope he ended up in the National Enquirer.

*Picture of what appears to be a black, lab type dog. Seems very sweet...

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real fucking jerk, let me tell you. He was all into guns, I could tell. I have a brother-in-law, Wayne, who's into all that, and you can tell when a person's into that kind of thing. He'd talk about parts he'd ordered from magazines, and I was like, "Hmm, this guy's really into this shit. I own one .38, this guy's got a whole motherfuckin' arsenal." I didn't get to know him too well after that -- nobody could get along with him because nobody could tolerate him. Suddently out of nowhere the band broke up, then he killed all those people and we were all brought back together again just long enough for them to talk to us and interview us. They'd show up out of nowhere. It pissed my mom off -- she cussed at them and chased some of them off because they were tresspassing on private property. I'll tell you something about reporters -- they can be some of the most conniving people in the world. When they're asking you something they can be so sweet. Some of them area good at what they do and are straightforward and honest and some of them are cutthroat and conniving as shit, and I seemed to attract those. They'd make up their own shit as they went along. I heard all kinds of shit all over town, like I'd been to bed with him. I remember at the time I'd broken up with a guy named JD Harrison and he kept stalking me so I decided to play a trick on him. I had another reporter come up to me and I said, "You know, I know somebody that knows George Hennard realy well, if you know what I'm saying," and I gave them his name and address and they went over there thinking he was the ex gay-lover of Geoerge Hennard! I hope he ended up in the National Enquirer.

*Picture of what appears to be a black, lab type dog. Seems very sweet...