Continued from last week …
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
I come here to watch the karaoke. I can’t sing, but I scream really good, which reminds me of my reunion with my mother. I was living in LA and I got this e-mail saying that my dad had died and all was forgiven, move back to Chicago. I hadn’t seen my mother since running away from home at 13. So I arrived here with my guitar and what I had on my back, and my mom was like, “Throw some dirt on the grave and then get your ass back to LA”–so much for family. But I decided to stay here anyway, even though people think I’m Alice Cooper or Marilyn Manson. My look is based on what I like. I don’t wear black lipstick or fangs anymore, but I don’t feel good walking around without my eyeliner or my nails painted. In LA there was this vampire Dungeons & Dragons scene. During the day these guys would pump gas or sell insurance, but at night the black capes would come out and we’d do these role-play things. Some of these people would drink my blood, but as long as they were paying me $100 a pint I thought that was OK. I guess it never really took off in Chicago. My family’s very rich–my siblings are millionaires–and I just make ends meet, but I’m the happiest person on the planet. The only thing I want to change is to find a cute, monogamous boyfriend. Is that too much to ask?
