I Always Heart LA

I love you all but I am swamped and drowning and leaving on Friday for a whirlwind Logo-induced jaunt to LA to cover the GLAAD awards. Forgive the nonposts, I still heart you more than anything even though my allergies are acting up and I seem to keep waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

Oh Sweet Jesus, Is Nothing Sacred?

old news, but shareworthy. Turns out the dude who played Willy Tanner (the daddy on ALF) is a crackhead he-whore.

Hear that? That was the sound of my childhood innocence shattering.

Is it Better to Shit Upon or to Be Shat Upon?

So remember how we were having lots of plumbing problems in our new apartment? (Real plumbing probs, not ovarian plumbing probs). Whenever we flushed our toilet, our fecal matter rained down onto the courier service that's below our apartment. So we called the not-at-all-Super (let's call him "Ismet") (names have not been changed to protect this poopyhead) said he was sending a plumber on Tuesday. My roomie stayed home on Tuesday but the plumber had to go to the hospital. So Noah stayed home for him on Thursday but the plumber arrived and said he couldn't fix the problem yet. So I stayed home for him on Friday and he never showed up because he couldn't find the part. So he was supposed to come Saturday morning at 9. He showed up at 10:30 ish and proceeded to smear grout all over the entire bathroom -- he seemed to smear every available surface except for the toilet. And then he poured gallons of grout down the bathtub drain. So now the bathtub doesn't drain. And when you wash your face in the sink, the water burbles up into the bathtub, along with several pounds of grout and other ickyschticky shizzy. The not-at-all-Super showed up this morning to assess the problem and announced that he would send the plumber back tomorrow. The same plumber who didn't fix the problem originally -- the shitstorm problem. Remember the shitstorm problem? This is a song about the shitstorm problem. And so I asked if perhaps a different plumber could be called --a plumber who could perhaps address all the problems, and not just fix the problem he just tried to fix but didn't (oh, also? our kitchen sink leaks and the bathroom sink leaks).) The not-so-Super treats me like shit because I am a girl. He only really talks to my roommate. So he made me angry. And I had already woken up feeling stressed out and icky because I can't take a shower (rest assured, dear readers, I will be hitting the gym apres-work and showering apres-workout) and with a terrible tummy ache. So I'm annoyed, cranky, grumpy and my tummy hurts and i'm not even premenstrual yet. GROWL. Sweet Jesus, I just want to live in a functional apartment.

But, Happy Passover! Can't wait to tell ya'll about our Jewmersion weekend.

This is the COOLEST MONKEY EVER

Oh my stars. Go to this news article and then click "free video." choose your media viewer and wait for it to load.


Doesn't smoking look SO COOL????? When a monkey does it????

I'm a Winner, Baby! So Why Don't You Hug Me?

I'm the Schwartz of the Month! I won! I won! Hip hip hip hooray! This may be the first time I've ever won anything! When I was six I was in the Glen Rock "jr. Olympics" and I was the only kid who didn't win anything and I cried and cried and cried and then later that day, Jim Usher (who was one of the judges) came over to our house to give me a 2nd place ribbon for the longjump because he said the judges had miscalculated. Really, he was just being an unbelievably nice person. Because I am an anti-jock. I received the "Most Unathletic" senior superlative in high school. (Although I also got "Biggest Whiner" and "Most Unique").

No, wait, I won a poetry contest in Cricket magazine when I was nine and they published my poem.

Watch Me On TV -- Let's Just Play It By Nose

Oh boy! Upcoming shows!

ALL ACCESS: AWESOMELY BAD CAREER MOVES: Friday, April 29th. Sneak peek at 11am, premiere at 10pm.
ALL ACCESS: MORE AWESOME CELEBRITY BEEFS: Monday, May 2nd. Sneak peek at 11am and 6pm, premiere at 9pm
ALL ACCESS: CELEBRITY BEST FRIENDS: Wednesday, May 5th. Sneak peek at 11am and 5pm, premiere at 10pm.

Keep the Meme Alive

Aw, man. I don't tend to post the amusing Jewshit for ya'll but this one's making the rounds and it's mildly amusing to hear the robot speak Hebrew. I sent it to my parents, although I don't think they're huge 50 Cent fans and it thusly won't be quite as amusing to them as it will be to all my pop culture peops. The Jewcy ones, that is. And the nonJewcy ones who dig on Passover. I mean, golly gee, who doesn't dig on Passover?

Look, it's Me! Age 1.5! At Camp Nanny-Zaydee

bathingsuit, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

I just shot All Access Awesome Beach Bodies and the producer asked for some archival shots of me in beachlike situations. This photo was taken was I was about 1.5, I think. I'm standing in front of the backdoor of my grandparents' house in Poughkeepsie -- we had a plastic kiddie pool in the backyard and I think my cousin and I were playing in it. Aw, look. I'm just COVERED in babyfat. And check on out that sassysassy bathing suit.

We called it "Camp Nanny-Zaydee" because my cousin was jealous that his big sister was at real camp (Jew camp!) and so my mom and my aunt invented camp at my grand-rents' house. My grandmother is "Nanny" because she didn't want to be a Bubby or a Grandma, and my grandfather was Zaydee -- Zaydee Hal, to be exact. Because my dad's parents, down in Florida, are Bubby and Zaydee Sam.

(Heh. All these people keep finding my site by googling "bex schwartz nude." I hope this one sends 'em all reeling. Sickos!)

Nintendo Rockapella Me, Amadeus

There's really nothing that I detest more than collegiate a capella groups. I hate their smug facial expressions, i hate the way the person who keeps time acts like he or she is more powerful than fucking Benedict the 16th, i hate the way they slap their chests and make nasal grunting sounds. oh, my body quivers with disgust at the memory of the a capella groups who used to invade public spaces and act like they were doing us a fucking favor by showering us with their renditions of 80s pop songs and "ironic" versions of boy band ditties. oh, oh, oh, how i hated it when they stormed into the library during finals to give everyone a "break" by singing in the lobby. how i wanted to fling heavy objects onto their percussively-hooting heads. and oh, oh, oh, oh, there was that day when the fucking girl a capella group (the group that wasn't as "good" as the better girl a capella group) came into the frosh dining hall to "enlighten" us all with their fucking lite FM rancidness. how i wanted to fling vast quantities of stale bagels at their mouth-breathing, breastbone-pounding, eye-booger-noise-making heads.

But, hey, check it on out -- this particular collegiate a capella group decided to perform Nintendo theme songs.While acting them out. Wait for the Ninja. And the Zelda bit towards the end. I'd still like to throw desks at these types of people, but the Nintendo shiznit is mildly amusing.

Home Improvement is the New Going Out

So .. we're in! After a whirlwind adventure of not sleeping, purging as many material possessions as possible, and straining my hamstrings, we're officially in the new money pit. Ooops, I meant to say the new apt. My room is getting there -- Josh came over and installed the most AWESOMEST closet system EVER and built my Ikea furniture for me because he's the greatest friend ever. And we're working on turning our dysfunctional kitchen into a somewhat working kitchen. Someday. And our bathroom is turning out rad -- originally, I thought we were going with a jungle theme, but we're not actually theming it, we're building a Swiss Family Robinson bathroom. Like we're in the jungle and made a bathroom. For reals. I shit you not.

But speaking of the bathroom ... every time we use the bathroom, gallons of water flood down into the courier service that lives under the money pit. And apparently we have the worst landlord in the world. Although he did pull out the radiator in my room (now my bed's in the best feng shui location! and no more radiator-induced sinus crap!

Anyhoodles. I'm beat. Whooped. Exhausted. I shot All Access Awesomely Bad Celeb Baby Names yesterday -- Jamie Oliver (the naked chef) has a daughter named Poppy Honey -- and I renamed her "Hymen Vagina."

Heh.

Aroo! Moving! Aroo!

We're moving tomorrow. Holy fuck, how did I come to amass so much fucking stuff? HOLY MOTHERFUCKING DILDO SHIT.

Now is the time on Sprockets when we panic: PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANIC!

I'm internerd-less for a few days, kids, until the nice Time Warner Cable man comes. Keep your noses clean, yo.

love and kisses,
bex

It's a BEAVER HAT! BEAVER HAT!

Beaver Hat, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

Oh my stars. It's a BEAVER HAT. See, Josh is having a Canada-themed party called ROCK OOT (with or without your COCK OOT) and I told him that Canadians often wear beaver hats. So he ebay'ed a beaver hat and found this site. I mean. It's for real. It's a BEAVER HAT. But it's a BEAVER. hat. It even seems to have a clitoris. I mean, it's a BEAVER HAT. Phil says its sheer beauty is indication of a higher intelligence -- the fact that it's a beaver hat / beaver hat is proof that there is a god.

Oh my stars. Beaver hat. BEAVER HAT!

Check Me On Out, I'm Being A Talking Head (not of the David Byrne variety)

bexAAbeachbodies, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

Hi ya'll -- just a quick note. I shot "All Access: Beach Bodies" today and here's what I looked like doing so. I also did pick-up v/o for that NOVA ScienceNow project I worked on a few months back; I'll link to that site as soon as it's online. In other news, I'm swampy mcswamp swamp with foot problems -- we did the mega IKEA run yesterday and bought so much stuff that I will spend the rest of my life with a hexkey. Josh says to become one with the hexkey, which means that I will turn into a bexkey. Ouch, that was just stoopid. Stoopid bexkey joke. ANYHOO. So I had blisters on my feet so I was walking funny to compensate for it so now I have perma-cramped calf muscles and I am scared I'm going to end up like three inches shorter and then I won't be nearly as Amazonian as everyone's come to know and heart. Sigh. Anyhoo. During today's shoot, I recited a poem I wrote when I was a kid about wedgies:
You gotta pick it out,
Squeeze it out,
Side to side!
You gotta get that wedgie
Out from inside!

Domestic Bliss

Oh man, whatta weekend. And BOY do my feetsies hurt like a mofe. The Smell train was being all fonky all weekend and only running to Lorimer, so I had to do the 25-minute trek from Bedford Ave. far too many times. Yeeeouch! And mildly spooky, but more on that in a bit.

So I spent Friday afternoon in a "Logo immersion" meeting, learning all about our new channel. Hip hip hooray. Then it was off to Josh's nonsurprise unbirthday party, an event commemorated by Josh's near-perfect elk-killing streak. Elks were slain and pepper-fuckers were consumed and we all chipped in and got Josh this original Maakies cartoon (Jed's wondrous idea) and it was lovely and touching and there was certainly a real moment of touchingness.

And then back to the boyfriend's house for awesomeness and some high seas action. See, the boyfriend has a lofted bed that I always call "the pirate ship" because when I was in nursery school, there was a lofted platform where you got to nap during naptime if your mother (or, in the odd case, father) was the helpermonkey for the day. I went to a "co-op" nursery school (in a church!) and there were always helpermonkey parents. Anyhoo. So, the pirate ship was a-rockin' and apparently there was too much a-knockin' on the neighbor's wall. Whoops. No more late-night piracy in bed, that means. Avast! Ahoy, mateys!

On Saturday we tackled the new money pit (aka "the new apt). We're doing this super-sounds-of-the-seventies striping thing against the wall -- the bottom half of the hallway and living room are "oklahoma wheat" in this kinda seventies/rollerdisco angled shape, and we're putting a stripe of brown and a stripe of orange on top of the "oklahoma wheat." ("grandfather clock" and "racing orange," to be exact). the whole design scheme was inspired by this merrimekko wall-hanging that hung over my parents' bed their whole married lives, until they moved to the condo. Noah loves it (Although apparently my parents hung it upside-down their whole lives -- Noah says the signature is on the bottom the other way. So.) And then we painted the bathroom "artichoke heart" green. We're going for a super done-up jungle theme -- we already have a jungle shower curtain, and we have all these pipes in there that we're going to paint like bamboo (anyone know how to paint pipes to look like bamboo?) and put monkeys and vines in there. The jungle bathroom. And now that it's "artichoke heart," we can call it the "artichoke heart of darkness." and if someone clogs the toilet, it will be the "stuffed artichoke." teehee.

Josh helped me choose the colors for my room -- it's "Milano Red" and "Japanese Koi." SOOOO very WWII, eh? It came out superintense -- my bed will be in the red side and my "office" area (Deskypoo -- to be purchased tomorrow at Ikea! WOO!) will be in the yellow half. And i have oh-so-much to do -- I have to install one of those closet organizer jazzys and stuff. The 'rents came in today to help us put up some shelving (we didn't trust ourselves) and my dad talked us out of drilling into our brick wall to install floor-to-ceiling bookshelves -- i think we're going to build our own. Are we that handy? Back in the dizzay, when i was all theatrey, i was a total handy person. I've lost faith in those abilities, but surely I can do it? I hope?

On Saturday, the boyfriend took me to this awesome hummus place and I was daunted by a plate of the most awesome hummus i've ever had. Then we went to a bar, where, randomly, this bar patron recognized me from "Britney's Most Shocking" and recognized the boyfriend from a shoot they did together. Small world (but I wouldn't want to paint it). Then we went to the divine Miss Meredith's party at "crime scene," a bar that's allegedly crime-scene/L&O themed but fails in the total theming department. I heart theme more than anything and I was sad it didn't measure up. But my work buddies were there, as well as not one but TWO Norwegian heckachopter pilots (does everyone in Norway fly heckachopters???)

And then I took the Smell home and had this bizarre incident -- I was walking home, and I have to cross McCarren Park to get there. either way, walking down bedford or driggs, you have to cross the park. and driggs is faster. and i noticed all these drunk guys at north 10th, right before the park. and so i just started walking. and i heard loud noises so looked back, and saw this little guy running. he looked like he was jogging, so i stepped to the side to let him pass. but then he slowed down, and stopped running right next to me.

And he said, 'it's not safe for a beautiful woman to walk home by herself, let me walk you home." and i said, "oh, no, really, i'm fine." but then he said, "there are bad men out there" (and by this time, i was FREAKED, but i was like, play it cool, girl), and he said, "so, you're really drunk?" And i said, "no, i'm not, actually. i'm totally fine." and he said, "there are drunk guys back there" and then he asked where I lived. And i said, "oh, a few blocks away, it's nothing." And he said, "no, no, i'll walk you home." and so, so as to prove that this was all normal, I started making smalltalk -- where are you from, what do you do, etc.?

And then he said, "where's your boyfriend?" and i said, "He has to go to LA so i'm just heading home to chill out with my roommate." and he said, "oh, so you already have a boyfriend?" and i said, "yes." and then we finally got across the park and he kept walking with me, and i said, "really, i'm just a few blocks away" (Because i didn't want him to walk me home b/c i didn't know what i'd do when i got to the door -- there were all those cases of people being raped in theiy foyer/entryways in the Burg last year, and I was like: "i'm sure this is a good person but i am too freaked out to let him walk me all the way home, ack ack ack!"

And so finally I pretended to know someone in a bar we were passing, and I thanked him and said goodbye and he turned around. And i waited a little while, and then walked home. I'm SURE he was a truly good person, but I was sooooo wary. Dammit, I was wearing a dress -- does being in a skirt or dress make me seem more femme-y and thus more helpless? Was he really a good person? I'm so conditioned to expect the worst from people ... I hate that, as a chick, I get scared walking home alone, whereas my male roomie never does. GROWL! That sense of fear and helplessness makes me feel gross and icky -- I mean, in theory, I could've kicked the guy; I took Tae Kwon Do and I was taller than him. But is it horrible that I suspected the worst? That I couldn't believe that a random stranger would care so much about my welfare that he would insist on walking 20 minutes out of his way to make sure I was safe? Am I a horrible person for being freaked out?

But I arrived home safe 'n' sound -- schwoo. And woke up to do more apt stuff and then interview Michael Buble for AOL -- he's rather charming and funny, despite being a Canadian neo-Sinatra. I like him on our "I Love the" shows and I think he has a neat voice -- he makes it all seem so easy.

And now I'm whooped. WHOOPED! And we're getting up early and heading to Ikea. The big move happens on Saturday -- less than a week til we're outta the 'Point and into Chelsea. And I can wake up to Chelsea Mornings every day. Hip hip hooray!

Ah, Bathsheba

Bathsheba falcon rock, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

I realize, friends, that I never blogged about my long-ago journey to Barbados. It was pure kickawesomeradness. My flight was delayed leaving JFK due to snow, so I wore my bathing suit under my clothes so I could go straight to the beach. My travelin' companion picked me up from the teensy tiny Barbados airport and took me straight to the ocean, where there were monstrous waves that immediately ripped my bikini from my body. Baptism, Barbados style!

We stayed on the East coast of the island, which is crazyass rocky. As you can see above, there are these rock formations that have been eroded from eons and eons of ocean action. I got all tripped out thinking about just how long those rocks have been there -- like, for all of humankind's presence on this globe, the bottom of that rock has always been eroded like that ... mindfuck! Cerebellumfornication!

We spent the weekend soaking up sun and rum ... lots and lots of rum. We ended up going to this tiny little rumhouse near where we were staying and performing Karaoke.

Songs I drunkenly murdered in a tiny Bajan rumhouse:
1) Torn - Natalie Imbruglia
2) Genie in a Bottle - Xtina
3) Hey, Big Spender - Peggy Lee
4) To Be With You - Mr. Big
5) a whole lotta other ones I no longer remember

We also ate fresh coconut and gallons of Bajan hot sauce. Fabuschmabu, yo.

Ew, this was totally one of those Dear Mr. Henshaw blog entries. So sorry. I just wanted to share the photo.

Wouldja Getta Load of This Sassy, Sassy Buck?

buck, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

This is Buck. Buck Henry, to be exact. He lives on the wall of a cabin way up in uppity upstate. As a longtime vegematarian, I am not so much a fan of ye olde taxidermy (except for deer scrota, of course). Dead animals who live on walls often scare me. They give me the heebie-jeebies. They make my knees knock willy-nilly. They make me feel all namby-pamby.

Thing is, Buck has lived on his wall for a long time. He's probably lived on the wall longer than I have lived on this planet. So, it's really not my right to ask him to leave, even though he scares me a little tiny bit.

But, look! If Buck wears my rainhat and my rainbow scarf, he no longer looks scary! No, no, no! He looks sassy! And jaunty! And gay! Like he's about to go cruising for a hunter in the woods. "Hey, hunter," he might say. "Nice rifle-butt."

Imagine that! Just by cocking a Maine fisherman's rainhat over one antler, Buck becomes so awesome. Just look at that gleam in his eye. He's totally on the prowl for some sweet, sweet deerhunter ass. To lick, not to shoot.

Speaking of which, it is totally not Josh's birthday today. And so tomorrow night we will be hunting electronic bucks galore. But not the sassy ones.

Holy Fuck, Holy Fuck, Holy Fuck

SONY figured out a way to let you watch TV in your brain!

Thanks to my awesomerad buddy, Jason, I was hipped to this news about SONY's new patent. Jason said, "Are you ready for the future?"

I said: FUCK YEAH.

Then he told me about this new patent that puts "sights and sounds directly into your brain."

I read the article; as far as I can tell, it's non-retinae based stimulation of the visual neurons in the cortex. So you can "see" without actually seeing. Jason says it'll be like a helmet you put on and then you can watch tv in your brain.

Once I watched a cartoon in my brain. There was a happy cartoon cow and she was driving down a country road in a yellow car. I was coming down and my friend was having sex in the next room with this guy we picked up, and they were concerned that I was upset because they'd abandoned me, but I told them to go ahead and have a blast because I was very immersed in the cartoon. It was a great cartoon. It had songs.

Anyhoo. So this "Sony Dream Hat" (as Jason calls it) will let you watch tv (of cartoon cows, or otherwise) in your brain. Just like hallucinating, but for reals.

HOLY FUCK, the future is so here!

Amerika, Hurrah!

Words fail. I have watched this video four times and all I know is:

it kinda makes me long to move to Canadadia.

and, yes, it's for real.

But we're not moving to the Sleeping Giant to the North, land of lemmings and moose. We're moving to Chelsea, land of swanky bars, really buff men and our new apartment. I've been doing lots of work for Logo, so perhaps the whole move is just one giant write-off.

What color do I paint my bedroom? My grown up bedding is reddish/purple/gold (to match my Lenny Bruce poster). Help! Because, secretly, I want to live in a red bedroom. Which would make it seem like I live in a bordello. and Josh says Jed painted his bedroom red and went crizazy -- like the Yellow Wallpaper, but the Red Walls instead.

Who is Crushing on A Girl named Brittney?

Hearts and stars to whoever put this poster on the subway.

Who is this mysterious poster putter-upper? Because I would like to buy this person some jello.

Watch me say "Panties" on tv

Oh boy! I didn't even know this show was finished -- All Access: Celeb Showdown 2 premieres today! There's a sneak peek on RIGHT NOW and the premiere is tonight at 9pm (8pm central, 7pm mountain). I just saw myself say the word "panties" on tv. "Panties" is the WORST WORD EVER. The only thing worse than the word "panties" is the phrase "moist panties." Moist panties themselves are fine, of course, but the expression makes me (and every other girl I know) feel ickypoo.

More later, love bunnies. At least it's stopped raining. Because we all know that April showers bring May flowers. And what do May flowers bring?


Pilgrims.


What did the ghost say to the bee?
Boo, bee!
(best. joke. ever.)

I feel like I need to elaborate on the "moist panties"-induced ickypoo sensation. Let's see.
REALLY ICKYPOO:
1."moist panties"
2. yeast infections (note: we just learned that ladies should aboid using glycerine-based lubes because they break down to become sugar and having sugar in your cooch is basically asking for a yeastie) (double note: let's call yeast infections "yeastie" from here on in, shall we?)
3. if someone were to stick a knitting needle into your eye
4. that scene in American History X where the guy has to bite the curb and then someone stomps on his head
5. President Bush
ICKYPOO:
1. dead pets
2. if a homeless person urinated on the subway and then you sat in it, and you also happened to be wearing a miniskirt and no tights
3. olives
4. a mouse stuck in a glue trap and its eye is in the glue and you can see its exposed eyestalk
5. the dying flopping action of a just-caught sunfish
VAGUELY ICKYPOO:
1. steely dan (the band, not the vibrator)
2. mushy eggplant
3. tara reid's frankenipple
4. eye sties
5. when a dog humps your leg

ASSUREDLY NOT ICKYPOO:
spending the weekend with my BOYFRIEND (yes, i'm coming out of the closet about this one, gang. I have a BOYFRIEND, my first-ever boyfriend, and I am very happy. Between my BOYFRIEND and moving into Chelsea, I have absolutely nothing to complain about, other than being highly overwhelmed by the impending move).

BOYFRIEND!