It’s Friday night, I’m home, I’m drinking — it all adds up to one thing: Lita Ford! Ok, you may not have seen that coming, but damn, I love me some Kiss Me Deadly, if only because the song so bothered my mother back in the day (that and Talk Dirty to Me by Poison lol. Oh and I Want Your Sex by George Michael and Relax by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. But I digress.). I have listened to Kiss Me Deadly a few times tonight and have move on to the epic Find Your Way Back by Starship or whatever the fuck they were called when that song came out.

What am I drinking, you wonder? Tequila? NAY! I pulled out my bottle of Dr. McGillicuddy’s Vanilla Liqueur, a beverage that brings back fond memories of being in Miami and making a drunken trip to the former flame’s hotel room at roughly 3 a.m. That, my friends, was the epitome of alcohol-affected decision making. Fortunately we both decided we were too drunk, confused and oh, yeah, involved with other people, both men LOL, to screw around. Ah, sweet memories!

I rec’d an e-mail from a new prospect, this one lured in by the line in my online dating profile stipulating that the man in my life must understand the majesty that is the television show “CHiPs”. It’s true. Very true. Ridicule my CHiPs, I ridicule your (almost-certainly) small dick. I saw that the first season is out on DVD. Hint hint. Miss Monique’s birthday is in a little more than a month.

My $75 Sephora gift card came in the mail today. Fuck yeah. It’s like Christmas came early. It’s not like I can buy anything non-frivolous there so I think I’m gonna go for the $25 Nars blush (in Orgasm, of course) and $22 Anastasia brow powder. My heart is starting to race just thinking about it. Or maybe that’s because the blush is called Orgasm. Either way, it’s fucking hawt!

After this afternoon’s tattoo excitement, tonight was the Alison Krauss concert. Seeing as how we were in downtown Detroit — and I mean downtown, at the Fox Theater — there really was about a two block radius to walk around in. Well, only two blocks down on one street. Kinda scary. The concert was super duper fantastic, she’s amazing live. She sang “Forget About It” which is probably my favorite … I’d see her again and again and again!

After ignoring Live Earth for most of the day, I am so all over it, it’s not even funny. My observations:

• I think I fell more in love with Dave Grohl when I saw him with long hair.

• The Smashing Pumpkins made me feel young. Ah memories of drinking wine coolers in college and listening to “Today.”

• Genesis makes me feel even younger, as I listened incessantly to “Invisible Touch” on my walkman. True story: My mother insisted that they were saying “dizzy bone touch yeah” instead of invisible touch. And does Phil Collins look kind of oddly like Peter Gabriel? What the fuck is that about? I love me some Peter. Phil needs his own aging musician look.

• Even though I am a hard-core democrat, I think 8 years of listening to Al Gore would have driven me fucking crazy. Just saying.

I can’t remember if I heard “Times Like These” or I just thought of that song, but I was inspired to start a new site. Kinda like Ruined Music, but with happy song memories. I probably won’t have a lot to post so if you want to write about a song that makes you happy, leave me a comment or shoot me an e-mail. Times Like These

In hindsight, maybe that cup of coffee at 4:30 p.m. wasn’t such a good idea.

Anyway. I just saw a commercial for the “Concert for Diana,” and what the fuck in Kanye West doing there? Elton John, check. Duran Duran, check. Natasha Bedingfield, ok, she’s British. But Kanye West? Is he going to rant against the monarchy that held Diana down?

Christ, Perry Farrell is old. He never was a handsome man — I never went for the heroin chic look, especially when it was real — but ugh, he looks like death warmed over in his new video. I still love Jane Says, though.

I drank mojitos tonight. They were the best I’ve had since I was in South Beach three years ago. I was surprised.

Ooh Jason added me to his top friends on MySpace lol. I am number 3. Behind his brother and Michael Buble. I really haven’t listened to much of Michael Buble’s music but he’s cute.

That’s the thing about first dates. I knew we were both having fun but sometimes it’s hard to tell if the connection is mutual. When he dropped me off at my car (ssh don’t tell my mom I got in his car but it was a pretty blue Mustang), I got my purse out of the trunk and then we just stood there. He said, “we’ll have to do this again,” which to me is like, “I’ll call you.” So I kind of groaned (in my head) and gave him a hug. Next thing you know, he’s calling, asking me out again. And he changed his MySpace page title to something like “I was beat in putt putt by a cute girl.” And I’m number 3 on his friends list!

One thing that was nice was that he grabbed the bill right away at the restaurant. I was going to offer to pay for putt putt but I had left my purse in his trunk lol. Oh well. He makes more $$ than me.

Ok, that was more than a few thoughts. But I’m still wide awake. Man, work is gonna suck today.

My trip to the dentist this morning was more painful in a figurative, rather than literal, sense. About 6 weeks ago, a crown broke and I had the remaining slivers of tooth removed. Today, I went in for the temporary bridge. All the dentist did was take a few impressions and drill on the teeth on either side of the missing tooth. It cost me $1,200. That was my cost AFTER insurance. Holy fucking shit. I slowly put away my debit card and pulled out the Visa. I probably have about $10k in my mouth. Too bad I can’t cash it in.

The dentist numbed me so much that I was still partially frozen after 7 hours. I’m now novacaine-free but my face is still swollen and my poor little jaw is pretty sore. I’m eating my standard comfort food of mac and cheese (although I’m weird, I just put shredded cheese on the pasta and bake it, no milk or anything else) but tomorrow it’s back to Weight Watchers with a vengeance. I need to start fitting the gym back into my schedule. Tomorrow is my hair appointment and I most likely won’t be home until after 7. Wednesday, I need to go to the funeral home after work, as my co-worker’s sister died. Thursday, I’m going out with the girls after work. See a pattern? I am Monique, master excuse maker.

I was a happy girl to see new video clips of my beloved George Michael on Yahoo. STFU. I fucking love George Michael. He looks like shit but he still sounds good. I couldn’t embed the clips but right now, they are featured on Yahoo. Somehow, George escaped my gaydar back in the day. Again, STFU. I attribute it to my youth. I was going to say that at age 10, I may not have known what homosexuality was, but that’s not true — I remember sassing my mother about Frankie Goes to Hollywood, asking if she didn’t want me to listen to them b/c the lead singer was a ho-mo-sex-ual. Ah, the look on my parents’ and grandparents’ faces was priceless. Anyway. Despite the short shorts, despite the jazz hands, despite the tight jeans and unerringly manicured stubble, I believed that George liked the ladies. Sigh. I was even shocked several years ago to read a story about him in the Enquirer, about how distraught he was after his partner died of AIDS. Denial, thy name is Monique. I doubt George will tour in the U.S., but if he does, I will so be there. Even if I have to pay for a second ticket to bribe someone to accompany me!!!

I’m watching the 40 Most Softastic Soft Rock Songs on VH1. Can someone explain to me why the hell Open Arms by Journey is only no. 15 on the list?! WTF-ever. It’s one of the greatest songs ever. Maybe that’s because I spent many a night listening to it obsessively in junior high. We also played the song in my 7th grade band class. Now that was hot, I’m sure.

One of the previously mentioned new men wanted me to go out last night but I was like, eh, I’m tired. Well, it turns out that he went to the party after the Gwen Stefani concert. Well, shit. If I had known that … LOL. Which is probably why he didn’t say that up front.

Here are the truest words I’ve heard all day, courtesy of the aforementioned VH1 show: “You cannot put into words what makes Barry Manilow awesome.” Amen, brother. Amen.

came from my trauma … I lost 2.6 lbs this week. Score! That brings my total to 23.2 lbs lost. That reminds me, I didn’t put a photo up for April. I’m so vain.

Considering I just ate a burger and fries from Hardees, I probably gained it all back.

I’m watching DreamGirls for the third time. I fucking LOVE this movie. I should just buy it. I downloaded the soundtrack from iTunes. I heart Eddie Murphy in this movie. Do any of y’all know who his character is “supposed” to be? My mom and I were discussing this. My guess was Marvin Gaye, even though he was murdered and didn’t die from an overdose. My mom grew up in Detroit too; she should know this stuff!

of the night. Not really ever, but it’s the best I’ve seen tonight. Alanis Morrissette and a dramatic version of “My Humps.” Kinda reminds me of Mr. Fab’s dramatic readings.

I woke up a little past 9 a.m., and ever since then I have been watching “Sunday Morning” on CBS. The same program my dad has watched for years and that I hated. But here I sit. In my (lame) defense, there was a short segment about Bill Clinton, about lying, no less; and now, there’s a feature about Stevie Nicks. I love Stevie but I have a much greater (and different) kind of love for Lindsey Buckingham. He’s almost 60 and he’s still hot. The REAL reason I’m watching was a short preview clip about a bracket of the “worst” love songs ever. All I had to hear was “All out of love” by Air Supply and I was hooked — I love me some bad love songs and I love me my Air Supply. Ooh synergy — Fleetwood Mac AND Bill Clinton at his first inaugural gala.

Ok, moving on. Well, I don’t have anything to move on to. Oh, except for NYC Watchdog’s request for me to do something unspeakable with a Cadbury egg. He’s trying to garner support. Don’t give in. I told him I’m not slutty on the internet, only one-on-one. Although that’s not entirely true, now that I think about it. But still. It’s a Cadbury egg!

Tonight’s episode of “Cold Case” had music from U2 … I hear “With or Without You” and I instantly think of junior-high dances and teenage angst … and I remember calling into “Dial MTV” or whatever their old countdown was in the early 90s, as my college roommate and I were gaga over this version of “Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses” when Bono was youngish and still hot …