
Dear Jeff Buckley aka Scotty Moorhead,
You passed away during this month, 11 years ago. And I still love you. Someone’s gotta love dead rock stars, and I guess it’s me. But let me assure you, Jeff, you are at the top of my list of boys I want to date in the afterlife. Your voice is like honey, your song writing like gold…and you are…err…were…..beautiful. Drop dead gorgeous.
You graduated from high school the same year I was born, but I don’t think that our age difference should really be relevant in the afterlife, do you? I love the way you play guitar. Even if you don’t know this, I’m pretty sure a lot of your songs were about me. I’m sure you didn’t even consider the possibility that the girl for you wouldn’t figure out that she was, in fact, for you until long after your death…but it’s a crazy world we live in.
Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I would really like to go out with you in the after life. You’d probably know where we should go better than I, but to be honest, I don’t really care. Maybe we’ll take a stroll down streets of gold? Perhaps we can toast marshmallows in the fiery pits of Hell? The problem really is that I don’t know exactly WHERE I’ll end up, but I have a strong confidence that it will be the place as you. Send me a sign, let me know what you think, or just holla at yer girl when I’m hanging out post-death style with you.
Love you ETERNALLY,
Your sweetheart, the drunk.




When I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror – at my blotchy skin, the dark circles under my eyes – I thanked God for my drawer filled with makeup. It’s amazing what a little concealer and black eyeliner can do for a girl. Sometimes even I can’t believe the daily before and after transformation to my face.