Hasta la Helen...or, Thanks for the Mammaries

I always had a vague idea in my mind that when I finally shut this thing down, I'd do it on some significant anniversary, or with some sort of fanfare.

That's not to be the case.

Thing is, I'm just done. I don't have anything left that I wish to express in this forum. It's that simple. Party called due to a pressing lack of interest.

I've met some wonderful, amazing people in the freakshow that is the blogosphere, whom I'm deeply thankful to know. The good ones far outnumber the creepy, self-important douchebags I've come across. I'd say that makes the whole thing worthwhile.

I may return at some point with a photoblog. I doubt it. Thus, if you wish to keep in touch, email a bitch.

Peace out, kids. All the best.

Love,
Helen

Helen Damnation in a handbasket

Interesting realization: The more "sins" I commit in a given day, the happier I seem to be. I did at least three things before 8:00 this morning that, by all rights, should condemn me to eternal hellfire and torment. And yet the smile, it leaveth not my face.

Even if the Xtians are right about all that crap, you can bet they're still envious.

Envy is a sin, bitches.

If only everyone were so lucky...

All I have to say on the fifth anniversary of Bush's war against everything good and decent is that I'm overjoyed that my boy Richie managed not to get killed in it, and that we had a chance to celebrate that fact.

Yeah, that's all I'm gonna say. Because calling Bush a warmongering fucktard is, like, so 2006.

That's Richie there on the right. We'll let those other two drunken yayhoos maintain their anonymity for now. Ahem.

I'm not really back, but...

I thought I was utterly over blogs and anything to do with them.

Then I saw this.

Thanks Paul. One more reason to love you.

Helen Damnation, Event Producer

This is what you New York peeps are doing on March 1, just so's you know...

Graphics by the Motherbrain, Jeremy Wolfe Kivett.

This is your chance to meet the boy, see. And your chance to welcome my friend Richie home after the two-plus years he spent in Iraq. And, most importantly, your chance to maybe give a little back to all those kids who are still getting shot at in the desert on account of the fact that our Un-President is a giant sweaty bag of douche.

See, I told you we've been doing stuff. What'd you think I meant?

Fuckin' pervos, every last one of you.

Anyways, check out the bands...Actualities, Bowery Boys, Sousalves (ahem...boy), and Nova Clutch, and our awesome videographer Richard Van Le, and repost this shit everywhere and anywhere. And show up, damn you. You know you want it.

Obligatory holiday posting...

Happy Hallmark Day, chitlins.

I guess Valentine's Day is a good day on which to admit to y'all that a big portion of the reason I'm not around here much anymore is that I have...uh...a Valentine. A fully awesome one, too. And you know, we're often busy doing...um...stuff. Stuff other than, you know, blogging. Yeah. So cut a bitch some slack. I'm happy.

I wish the same for all y'all. Less blogging, more living. Consider it.

Out of the blue and into the black

I'm having one of those days where saying fuckall and getting on a one-way train to some unfamiliar, faraway place seems like the best possible option.

Neil Young usually helps on days like this. Today, not so much.

Good excuse to get wicked drunk, I guess. Thanks Neil.