CMJ, CMJ, CMJ, after party. CMJ panel, CMJ showcase. CMJ. CMJ.

Also - CMJ.

Friday evening, I got a last minute invite to see Tori Amos at MSG. While I’ve never been a devoted follower the piano-humper, I do have a well-worn copy of From the Choirgirl Hotel that shared disc changer space with Sara McClachlan and Natalie Merchant. I think the trio came shrink-wrapped with my Intro to Women’s Studies syllabus.

Live, Tori Amos is amazing, a spectacle to behold. A pint-sized powerhouse, she sweetly executed disarmingly provocative song after song after song. Literally. For like, 2 and a half hours. Sandwiched between the grand and an organ, Amos gave both the what’s what, sometimes at the same time. Dirty! And the crowd was absolutely losing their collective minds.

A few things:

Amos fans like to go “whooooooooooo!!!” Like, a lot. Like, in my ear a lot. Also, they drink beer. A lot of beer, which fueled their insane enthusiasm, the second-coming-of-christ kind of enthusiasm. The women sitting behind me overtly wept when she played the first tinkles of Caught a Lite Sneeze. They didn’t stop until the guys behind them told them to “just shut the fuck up already.”

I sat mostly motionless, loving the Cindy Sherman thing Amos is working for her latest album, American Doll Posse. I did get a totally girly thrill when she jumped into the chorus for Big Wheel, because honestly, what’s more better than a 40ish woman sporting a one-armed bedazzled jumpsuit and blonde bettie page wig belting out “I am a M.I.L.F. don’t you forget!” So stone cold foxy.

When you and I met last, we were becoming intimately acquainted with my colon and the alleged toxic scum clinging to it’s squiggly lining. I had forgone three squares in the name of the almighty detox and I had intended to document my astonishing weight-loss and new found euphoria hitherto hidden under sheets of sticky ickies.

Looks like I totally flaked!

After the first few days, I lost interest in pretty much everything. I watched a lot of mind-numbing CSI, while I counted down the days when I could savor an apple. Or a rice cake. Or even that book of matches on my coffee table.

I lasted a total of seven days on the Master Cleanse diet, cheating only twice (Sashimi on day 3 and a pork chop on day 5). I aborted the cleanse 3 days early because I stopped losing weight on day 6. By day 7, I felt like complete shit, my eyesight began to fail, I couldn’t concentrate on simple tasks, and walking to the corner store felt akin to running a marathon.

When I met with my doctor, a DO, and she said my body was likely breaking down, i.e. I was in starvation mode and my body was eating itself to carry on with basic functions, like breathing…and blinking. Not cool! Instead, she offered me a printout of her favorite 5 day detox which includes a two-day juice fast followed by meals of brown rice and steamed vegetables.

Though it’s not my cup of tea, and I obviously didn’t have a fine time of it, I won’t disparage the Master Cleanse, especially since others have testified the benefits they’ve experienced. Different strokes for different folks. While I didn’t stay faithful to the diet and didn’t complete my goal of the ten-day fast, I did manage to kick a few bad habits (smoking, partying like a rock star) and pick up a few good ones (Omega-3, organic foods, and meditating like a rock star), even if I did have cake for breakfast this morning.