Good morning heartache
You old gloomy sight
Good morning heartache
Thought we said goodbye last night
I turned and tossed until it seems you heve gone
But here you are with the dawn
Wish I forget you, but you're here to stay
It seems I met you
When my love went away
Now everyday I stop I'm saying to you
Good morning heartache what's new
Good morning, my voluptuous ones. Tis I, your Voodoo Queen, just awakening to a lovely little post-soju tweaking. Thanks to all the beautiful ones who rolled through last night, and I'll give you the details in a second. Firstly, you're probably wondering what's up with the dismal start to the blog...Good Morning Heartache is a song that I learned many years ago when I first heard of Billie Holliday. I liked the lyrics, the feel to it, and post-Valentine's B.S., it just seemed like the appropriate song. Dealing with the aches and pains of one's ex-factor (i.e., an accumulation of exes that induces cringing), particularly recent and more fresh ones, either you can shut the door and endure the incessant knocking on the door. And honey, the knocking ISN'T opportunity. OR you can open the door, give Heartache a seat and just have tea. I don't know, screw the world, but at some point in time, the dumper will always miss the dumpee. Take great comfort in that, and if not, you throw an anti-Valentine's party.
Mad love to Felonious Monkey, Mista J, The Enforcer, Drunken Masta, The Apostle, The Boy Wonder, The Gengoid and Ms Straits Jackit. My fellow blogheads represented, brought some friends, and we had a grand time.
Special Voodoo Love to Evhead who rolled through after some bizarre invitation from yours truly. I decided to take a chance and invite him out for drinks and all that, and right as rain, he showed up. So Ev, remember, drinks on me for life. I, as well as the other writers, appreciate all you've done and what you continue to do. Who's Evhead? Oh lord, you should be ashamed of yourself. Another Ginju, please.
As one of three hostesses for the party, I have to admit that I hate hate hate flakes.There were a few, and I won't bag on you, but hey, don't tell me it's all gravy when it's NOT! tsk tsk.
It's the hostess nightmare. Everyone says they're in, but only a few show. I'll tell you tho, when you have a cool set of folks who roll through, it's cool, you can focus in on them and spend time choppin' it up in a way that a large crowd wouldn't allow. Hockey Dude, in his drunken splendor, announced to half the room that I was the hostess. They applauded, but they thought I was the hostess for ANOTHER party. Damn alcoholics.
So luckily today I have the day off, and I'm sitting here, in a hockey jersey (and that's it,I don't know why you need to know that, remember, I'm slightly hungover) writing you. I think I'm going to take a drive, my pretties, get some sun on my face, and yah, I'll take heartache with me.
Thanks again for helping the Voodoo celebrate V-day, and big love again to the bloggers who represented. I'm outta here!
Voodoo
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