Sunday, April 30, 2006
Look what I found! A photo of me performing at Brutal Honesty. I was talking about sex. As usual. Note my glowing blue beverage, my favorite beverage of all time.
Thanks to Brandy's photo stream!
Yes, that's right, it's a Prague blog! I'm in a smoky cafe where there's free wifi, because I horked my boof's laptop for the day while he's shooting. It finally stopped raining today (swell!) and I'm inside (stupid!) but I had to slog for about an hour and a half to get to this place and now I'm making the most of it. Take that, Prague spring (the weather, not the cultural uprising). It's lovely here, just as lovely as I remember it from my first visit (Prague 1.0) in April, 1997. Except that I fracked up my calf muscles something fierce by overworking out on the infernal arc trainer, and we are staying on top of the giant hill where the castle is, so every trip to and from the hotel requires either hiking straight down or hiking straight up and now I feel like I am walking around in a way that can best be described as how Martin Short, when playing the old woman who just wants pudding, hobbles in a wobbly, bow-legged way.
My flight here was mildly uneventful, if by uneventful one means getting the world's worst migraine and waiting it out in the flourescently-lit Frankfurt airport during a two-hour layover, where the German CNN blasting in the waiting-area was so loud that I had to decide that German CNN is the most abrasive sound in the whole world, a sound that could only be improved by drowning it out with Death Cab on my ipod. Yeah, I'm that person. Suck it.
But I finally made it here, 15 hours after starting my journey from JFK, where I drank overpriced glasses of white zin in order to prepare myself for the Transatlanticism (see, I told you I was that Death Cab person. Suck it). I have become inordinately fond of white zinfandel, and I must reveal that while I was in the Los Angeles, I bought a cheap-ass bottle of the white zinfandel at the Trader Joe's and watched Top Model in bed with the bottle resting on my sternum and thought, "This is good."
My passion for Top Model knows no ends. I was telling my friend Tom that I love Top Model so much, it would almost be difficult to choose between Top Model and having sex. Luckily, that is never a literal choice to make, seeing as Top Model airs Wednesday nights, and really, who's having sex at 8/7c? But the point remains the same - I mean, really? An hour of Top Model or an hour of having sex? The choice is almost too difficult to make, and that's coming from a person who loves both activities with equal ferocity. But Top Model this past week was almost too good to handle, between the girls jetting off to Thailand and the expulsion of Nenna, who looked so good on tv but took lame-ass photos. And that clip show!!! Who watched the clip show? It was like a mutiple orgasm of Top Model greatness, and served mostly to solidify my ever-growing girl crush on Joanie (who is known, in my household, as the Christ Whore, due to her daddy being a preacher and her amateur stripper nights back home.) Oh, Joanie! You are so sweet and so nice and you just want to understand Thai culture and not offend the Thai women by flashing your breasteses. How I love you. If only I'd had a bottle of white zin resting on my tummy ... but, no! That would have been too much goodness for my weary soul.
I am going to leave this cafe relatively soon and go figure out if one really can bring Absinthe back into the USA. I expect you won't hear from me til Wednesday, when I return, but fear not, I will be armed with bagfuls of souvenirs for all the folks back home, and possibly a visit from the green fairy (but not of the Kylie Minogue variety)
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Hugs and kisses to you all - I'll be back next week. Keep your noses clean, kids.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Don't forget -- watch So Notorious this Sunday night! Three episodes in a row, commerical free, starting at 10pm! And I shot all the host wraps in between the episodes. And got them out in record time. Which is why I'm now exhausted.
But, at least I'm back, back in the New York Groove (ick). No more driving!
Here's what I learned:
* one can actually make a right on red in the Los Angeles. In fact, if one doesn't make a right on red, people will honk and the old people in the convertible next to your Camry will yell yell yell.
Monday, April 17, 2006
I'm off to LA for the week to shoot Tori Spelling. Yes, I know how mad awesome that is. And yes, my brain is already having trouble thinking anything but "Donna Martin graduates!"
So, here's the deal: next Sunday (4/23), starting at 10/9c, we're showing three episodes of "so noTORIous" in a row -- no commercials or nuthin'. So I'm shooting Tori's host wraps for the minimarathon.
The greatest part of this whole shebang is that my hotel is in Beverly Hills, 90210.
Isn't it rich?
Say hi, I'll be the one driving the wrong way down the 405.
Friday, April 14, 2006
When I was younger, they called me "Big Nose Becky."
Yeah, I know.
It's big. I know. I KNOW. No need to hold your finger alongside my nose and say I'd be prettier if I fixed it.
Look, fine. Meh. You can bring it, if you want, but let it be known that I was deeply scarred back then and nothing's changing at this point.
This was taken at the AWESOME of all AWESOMNESSES "seder at mo's" last night, where I met my future sleepover-party buddies with whom I will drink the Manischevitz and shrink the dinks. They're the besties.
Anyhoo. ... so, yeah, I'm Jewish, in case you couldn't tell.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Full disclosure: my boyfriend is buddybuddy with Jeff, which is why we schlepped to Philadelphia (to hang out with him).
But: this movie is amazing. Jeff has created a captivating portrait of Daniel Johnston (the man, the myth, the legend), of whom I've been a fan since the early 90s when Vin Scelsa would enthuse about him on "Idiot's Delight." Daniel, if you don't know, is a brilliant singer-songwriter who slid into a very deep, dark and disturbing battle with mental illness. And this movie - which is really a biography as opposed to a doc -- is gorgeous in its storytelling (well, Daniel "tells" via hundreds of audio cassettes he compulsively recorded over the years, and there's lots of incredibly revealing interviews with Daniel's friends and fambly and industry veterans, and then Jeff "shows" the story in several genius ways, ranging from beautiful footage to animation to simple-yet-effective shots of the aforementioned cassette tapes). I saw the film on Saturday, and I can't stop thinking about it (and listening to my old Daniel Johnston tapes)
I have to go to a meeting, but you MUST see this movie. No excuse.
Click here for TICKETS AND SHOW TIMES!
If'n you're in NYC: see it at
THE SUNSHINE THEATER
143 East Houston Street on the Lower East Side
And if you've already seen this amazing movie of AMAZINGNESS, then you'll appreciate this photo:
After the screening, we headed to a Belgium Beer Bar called "Eulogy" where Jeff (I'm sitting next to him) held court in an extensive and enlightening q&a. The bar was pretty crowded so they had to sit us in the COFFIN ROOM. (Yes, our beer bottles are resting on a coffin. The coffin contains a skeleton wearing that Hawaiian shirt thing you can see in this photo). Just like in a Funeral Home.
I’m going to the funeral home
Buy me a coffin shiny and black
I’m going to the funeral and I’m never coming back.
So, the show opens with Cyndi telling us about Mack the Knife. It's a song heralding Mack for murdering people with his knife, setting fires and raping a child-widow.
Some of his crimes include:
* killing a man on the Strand
* murdering a rich man, Schmul Meier
* Jenny Towler: killed with a knife in the chest
* Seven children and an old man killed in an arson fire
* Rape of a child widow (minderjährige Witwe) in her bed
Here's everything you ever wanted to know about Mack the Knife.
And for some reason, a song about murder, arson and child rape inspired McDonald's to create a charismatic jazz-loving mascot.
Because nothin' says burgers and fries like a good knifing.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
The ad shows this fairy flying around and blasting things with her magic wand. The spot is controversial because this butch-looking dude says "Silly little fairy" after she smashes into a wall, and so she turns him into a "Cute" guy walking "wimpy" dogs. And that's offensive.
Anyhoo - so over the course of the spot she waves her wand and turns a building into a candy castle, and a train into a toy Christmas train, but she blasts the Dodge Caliber and her magic is deflected. Alas, she can't trasnsform the Dodge! What anguish! She tries and tries, but her magical pixiedust bounces right off the car. A-lack! A-day! Oh woe! Oy vey! (And then she flies off in a tizzy and smacks into the aforementioned wall, and then the "silly fairy" controversy bit starts). And then we get the tagline:
The new Dodge Caliber: ANYTHING BUT CUTE.
The thing is, I honestly didn't get that she was turning things cute.
The whole time I was watching the spot, I was sure the tagline was going to be:
THIS CAR DEFLECTS MAGIC.
And I actually sat there and thought to myself, "Wait -- this car deflects magic? But don't you WANT your car to be blasted by a fairy's magic wand? Perhaps she could make your car grow wings like a beautiful pegasus. Or perhaps your car could be like a magical paintingbox, and its exterior shall be made out of watercolors! And if you had a magical cat named Mortimer, he could perhaps dip the tip of his tail right into the watercolors on your paintingbox car and you could paint rainbows across the sky!"
And then I thought: "Who in the world would want a car that deflects magic?"
And then I realized: They're marketing this car to fundamentalist christians.
Perhaps you'd like to watch the spot. But don't think "Anything but cute." Think "This car deflects magic" and see where that gets you.
Thanks to Jalopnik for the link.
So we were watching the tv and we saw a spot for a new line of Gatorade called "Rain" and it made me think -- SWEET JESUS, there are so many flavors of Gatorade! And are there any people who are not flavor-loyal? And what if I were to sample every single flavor and variety of Gatorade and tell you about them? Because who knows what the hell "Rain" is supposed to taste like? And what does "Glacial Freeze" taste like? Or "Extremo Colon Blockage?"
And how many flavors are there? SO MANY!
And then I realized I could probably only handle maybe one per week, but, hey, all giant projects start small.
So today I'm sampling Gatorade Thirst Quencher - Cool Blue.
It doesn't taste blue. It tastes vaguely citrus-y -- maybe a little tangerine, a little orange lollipop? It's cloying and high-sugar content and, while it resembles that stuff in toilet bowls, it just tastes like faux-citrus plus a weird "blue raspberry"-esque aftertaste. Just wait til next Sunday when I try a new one! (or give up. we'll see how long my excitement lasts).
So I see this sign in my subway station every day on the way home from work (it's only in the downtown station). and, I get it, the Customer Service Assistant is here to help you and you can tell she's Official because of her red suit.
But, seriously, each time I see this poster, all I can think is that it's trying to say:
"IF YOU'RE A LOST KABUKI ACTOR, WE CAN HELP."
Also of note, Dan 'Mobius' Sieradski recounts my one-time encounter with then-mayor Rudy Naziani when I accosted him about the whole no-dance thing:
while strolling along 5th ave., bex and jen began to discuss the pathetic ludicrousness of mayor rudy giuliani's recent crackdown on dancers. yes, that's right, the führer is at it again, this time enforcing ridiculously strict penalties for dancing in bars without cabaret licenses. pubs and taverns all over new york city have now been oh-so-gracefully adorned with signs blaring the caution: "no dancing." those in disregard are often ejected from the premesis by owners fearful of incurring stern punishments.
this great infringment upon our civil liberties has not gone without notice however. in response, concerened citizens such as rev. jen and ms. badgorilla, became actively involved with an organization known as the dance liberation front (d.l.f.) which, last month, staged a demonstration known as the million mambo march, and paraded from tompkins square park to washington square park, rallying support for their cause: the freedom to dance.
and so, like a surrealistic vision—a waking dream—here we were, standing in the midst of the fashion district, surrounded by boothfulls of books and intellectual literary types, burning with this intense desire to hand-deliver ol' adolph g. a piece of our minds. and as though it were some divine syncrhonistic event—what by some may be considered a true 'act of god'— bex swiftly turns only to find mayor giuliani steadily approaching her.
"mayor giuliani!" she calls out.
the mayor instantly reaches out to shake bex's hand. "hi, how are you?" he says.
she extends outwards and grasps his hand, and with grace in execution, instantaneously leans forward and remarks, "mayor giuliani, could you please not make it illegal for people to dance in bars?"
he looks at her quizically. "dance in bars? what?" his entourage rushes him forward.
"liberate the dance mayor giuliani!" bex urges, "liberate the dance!"
[i might be paraphrasing here. i was kinda still in shock that like, out of nowhere, i was just standing there next to the infamous rudy g.]
rev. jen begins to chant, "D-L-F! D-L-F!"
the mayor scurries off.
after a moment of 'processing,' i snap to and announce, "bex, you've got to house the mayor! gotta get your groove on against him! that's civil disobedience! bex, you must freak the mayor!"
and so we ran off, in search of hizzoner ...but to no avail. for he had already gone.
Well recounted, Dan Jewschool! You make me remember the days when I was young and impulsive.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Brooke Thompson, aka "Pumpkin" from Flavor of Love is going to gay-marry her girlfriend!
I guess that after you come in 3rd in a contest to woo Flavor Flav, perhaps you re-evaluate several of your life choices.
"Pumpkin" has led a tumultuous life since Flavor of Love ended. Popculturevultures will recall that she was recently fired from her gig as a substitute teacher because all the schoolkids were gawking at her ... sure, "gawking." Not because she spit in someone's face whilst calling her a tranny (such upstanding morals and values!).
Just for the mammaries:
And, while we're at it, people keep sending me the "New York's Greatest Moments" video. It makes me physically ill, but you VH1 viewers seem to dig on it, so, meh. Here:
OMFG, why does Lost continue to be almost awesome but NOT? I get it, I get it, Hurley's imaginary friend who was Charlotte's Jewish husband was just a manifestation of Hurley's inner neurosis/psychosis whatever, but what the hell am I supposed to take from the fact that Libby was also nuts? POOP ON YOU, LOST. POOP ON YOU.
OMFG, America kicked off Mandisa? How about horrible horrible Bucky? Or WTF-is-the-fuss-about can't-sing Taylor? Admittedly, Ace is mildly dreamy (if I were 16) and I think that Paris is fine in a big-voice/teensy-person way, and I'm okay with McPhee although I think she's a one-trick-pony (and not of the Paul Simon variety). But I truly thought this was the season America was finally ready to accept the big, black belter. Color me wrong. America, how could you. You are a stupid nation of idiots for voting off Mandisa and keeping horrible horrible Bucky.
AMERICA! WTF, America? You vote off Mandisa? And you haven't yet voted to impeach our President? Even after today's revelation that HE WAS THE MOFE'ING PERSON WHO AUTHORIZED THAT LEAK TO THE TIMES!!!! How you gonna take that?
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
The Hebrew explanation on this youtube video reads "קלייי השולטת מדברת עברית" which, I believe, translates to "Kelly The Cutie(?) Speaks Hebrew."
I really like how she reads Hebrew with a Spanish accent. She's saying something along the lines of, "Hello, Friends of Alona and Atria (?)" whom I presume to be the lucky ladies who not only forced Kelly Clarkson to read Hebrew, but then videotaped the momentous event and put it on youtube.
Once again, courtesy of Constant Reader Ian.
Keep on fighting the good fight, foot soldiers of the No Penguin Revolution (which will, decidedly, not be televised).
Who else has spotted beacons of the No Penguin Revolution (NPR)?
Send 'em on in!
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
So. Perhaps you don't have any "no penguins" stickers of your own. I offer two suggestions:
Suggestion One: For those with fauxtoshopping skillz:
Your assignment: Steal this "no penguins" image from my flickr set:
Show the world where penguins are no longer allowed.
See? Like at the Great Wall of China:
Get yourself some "no penguin" stickers. You can email me at starbex AT gmail DOT com for more info.
Thursday, April 13
Mo Pitkin's House of Satisfaction And The 14th Street Y Present:
The Second Night Seder
(One show at 6:30, one show at 9:30.)
The Menu: Matzoh Ball Soup Gefilte Fish / Chopped Liver / Salad Chicken / Brisket / Stuffed Cabbage (with greens)
Desert - Flourless Choc Cake
Service items... 4 glasses of wine (that we're going to fucking BLESS!) ... Haroset... Horseradish... Parsley... Egg
Buy cray-cray expensive tickets for $65.00 right here!
Monday, April 03, 2006
It was awesome. Tonight, they took on the Boy Scouts. YEAH, FUCKERS!
Anyhoo - I was excited to spot a familiar face. Familiar to me, at least, because I certainly saw every episode of VH1's Strip Search at least once. (Not because I lurfed it, but because I'm surrounded by television sets blasting the VH1 all day, every day). And there was Johnny.
Johnny was playing a doctor/homeland security dad whose wife was trying to get their atheist son into the Boy Scouts. Because the Boy Scouts won't let you be a Scout if you're an atheist or a homosexual. And that's BULLSHIT because they get public funding and they meet in public spaces and yet they openly practice discrimination and send a message of hate and intolerance. BULLSHIT, Boy Scouts.
But yay for Johnny! Superviewers will recall that they found him in Vegas, where he was desperately trying to become a Blue Man. I guess when they kicked him off the show, he went back to Vegas and then Penn & Teller (who shoot in Vegas, I think) cast him as the dad dude. VH1 reality throw-off done good!
Granted, Big Tobacco is evil and smoking is bad for you.
But ... they're airing this spot called "Fang" wherein there's an angry doggie named "Fang" who snarls and growls in a cage. And no one wants to pet him.
And then Ms. Truth changes his name to "Fluffy" but people are still reluctant to pet him. Why? Because he's snarling and growling and yipping and nasty-looking.
Why? Because the fuckers at The Truth keep him in a little tiny cage!
According to The Truth, the "Fang" spot illustrates this point:
"According to one tobacco company VP, in 2001, a company name change could focus attention away from tobacco." So, like, changing a cigarette's name from "Coffin Nail" to "Pretty Meadow Filled with Butterflies" doesn't hide the fact that cigarettes are bad. Thus, changing the poor dog's name from "Fang" to "Fluffy" doesn't hide the fact that he's being mistreated and should be let out of the godforsaken tiny cage.
The Truth doesn't seem to have any qualms about animal cruelty. Check out this *adorable* cartoon on their website prompting you to watch the "Fang" spot: