Rhiannon Gammill was not born behind the wheel of a jet black coupe DeVille and has regretted it ever since. Like the b-movies that inspire it, Rhiannon's life is filmed in glorious black and blue. She has broken heels, smashed kneecaps and blackened eyes in clubs all along Red River; thankfully no one else was hurt. Rhiannon has been attacked by emus in Oklahoma and fended off a ravenous camel in Johnson City. She lives in Austin with a big dog and an even bigger library. Johnny Cash's autobiography is, of course, filed under "Religion."
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The entry titled "The Plague."
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2006 > November > 17 > Entry
By Rhiannon Gammill
| Friday, November 17, 2006, 09:33 AM
So I’ve got the plague. Not quite black plague, but some sort of I don’t know … medium gray plague, where the symptoms are craving herring and feeling seasick. Of course I haven’t ruled out the possibility that I’m turning into an albatross, but since I haven’t yet started to sprout feathers, I’m not too worried.
Because of the plague I missed Joan Jett at Stubbs with Riverboat Gamblers and The Eagles of Deathmetal which by all accounts was an incredible show to the surprise of no one because Joan Jett is the coolest person I don’t actually know.
At any rate, y’all will have to wait until next week for any regular blogging wherein I promise to relate the great and glorious stories of my trip out to the wilderness, including my failed — and surprisingly explosive — attempt at bootleggery.
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