Trash Rock and Twinkies.

Ryan and I have a show tomorrow night.

Naturally, I'm already nervous.

It's ridiculous. It's getting to the point where people laugh when I mention being nervous. "Lauren, haven't you done this a million times?" they say.

Yes, I've done the performing thing a few times and usually everything feels natural and under control when I'm on stage. But there's always that weird 48 hour period beforehand where I don't know what to do with myself. I freak out about my outfit for a couple of hours. I worry about the set list. I'm even infamous for coming down with a terrible sore throat before shows. It must be psychosomatic because it happens almost every time.

We've done a lot of practicing in the past few days. We know the songs inside and out. We're ready. And I am fairly confident that we will rock it. But there is still this freaky cloud of nervousness lurking around my brain. What if our music goes horribly wrong somehow?

Then there's my own little wardrobe issue. I'm going out on a limb and wearing a strapless dress. It's the kind of dress I tried on for fun and knew immediately that it was made for me. I'm really excited about it, but I don't typically wear strapless dresses and am paranoid about having some sort of wardrobe malfunction onstage.

I'm so paranoid that I've been practicing in the dress. That's probably not the type of thing you should admit on a public blog, but it's true. I've been putting on my dress and heels before band practice these days. I've also spent way too much time practicing my keytar stance in front of my mirror when I'm alone. Don't judge.

But aside from being awkwardly nervous, I'm just plain excited. It's been way too long since Ryan and I have done a show at a decent venue. I know we're going to have a blast.

I also know that the crowd will be full of my friends and neighbors from the commune. The Poet is organizing a massive field trip. Nobody here drives, so it sounds like there's going to be twenty people taking a Trimet bus across town to cheer me on as I pretend to be a rock star.

I know I've probably said it before, but I'll say it again: The people I live with are absolutely wonderful.

Sometimes I feel like we're the brats that have refused to grow up and that's why we all get along so well. If you don't believe me, check out these pictures from Sunday night's art installation:

Yes, those are Twinkies. Yes, they are wearing loin cloths/thongs and hanging from the ceiling.

It all started on the kitchen whiteboard with a weird cartoon war between The Fonz and The Chef. It escalated to The Poet buying two boxes of Twinkies at the store and handing them to The Fonz, Purple Hair, and myself to decorate. We hung them all from the ceiling in the middle of the night. It was glorious.

I think we all missed the memo that we aren't in college anymore. But right now, that's okay. I'm having more fun than I ever did in college anyway. I'm definitely making a lot more music, which is what I need to be doing.

And with that, I'm off to go make more tea. I've got to make this stupid sore throat go away by tomorrow night, even if it is just psychosomatic.

Peace out, amigos.