Hello, my name is Bex Schwartz and I am about to sing you a ditty. [A Ditty:] This is my home in the blogosphere. It's not as round as a bathosphere. But it's my place in cyberspace so I hold it dear. BLOG. O. SPHERE!
Hug me, please.
Dear Tyra, When I was on vacation in Costa Rica in June, I took a bunch of photos in the pool and I said I was being JUST LIKE TOP MODEL, because I thought I remembered a shoot with one's face half in and half out of the water. Except, I apparently didn't remember it -- I foresaw it! With my psychic top model powers! Maybe, Tyra, that means that we have a subconscious link - like a neural network of awesomeness stretched across the sky. Check this shit out, baby! June 17th, 2008! I'm not all fancy glam made up, nor was Nigel shooting me in a wetsuit, but look! Same idea! Samesies!
It might be because I am hepped up on decongestants and other things designed to make me feel like a human again, but since "We Didn't Start the Fire" is first song I ever sang backwards, it occupies a small but important place in my heart. That's why when Verizon Wireless employees sing about their fundamentals to the tune of that Billy Joel showstopper, my heart goes pitter patter.
Again, I am on cold/flu medicine drugs. Take everthing I say with a grain of Mucinex-D.
My best friend Mandy forwarded an amazingly devious and wonderful way to stick it to the (wo)man.
I, of course, hope that every reader of the blog (all 7 of you -- haaaay!) are as Go-Bama as I am, but if you feel weird about donating to his campaign (which you shouldn't because, seriously, the alternative to an Obama/Biden executive branch is pretty much certain hell) perhaps this is an idea for you. McCain thought he was being all pro-Lady by choosing Palin, but what he basically did was slap us all in the vagina by nominating a crazytalk Prolife woman to be his Vice President and probably President because he doesn't seem long for this world, and a Palin presidency is so terrifying I would have to leave the country if it happened. And so ... so you don't want to donate to Obama (but, really, you ought to), but you want to protect a woman's right to choose and you want to keep the government out of your uterus -- so here is a "fiendishly brilliant alternative" to donating to Obama's campaign.
Make a donation to Planned Parenthood. In Sarah Palin's name. And here's the good part: when you make a donation to Planned Parenthood in her name, they'll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in her honor. Click here to donate to Planned Parenthood website in Sarah Palin's name. You'll need to fill in the address to let the good people of Planned Parenthood know where to send the thank you card to Sarah Palin. The instigator of this idea suggests sending the card to the McCain HQ, which is:
McCain for President 1235 S. Clark Street 1st Floor Arlington, VA 22202
Perhaps this could become a nice interweb hack, and the press will pick up on the millions of dollars being donated to Planned Parenthood in Sarah Palin's name and run stories about how she ought to be ashamed by her anti-abortion stance as a woman with a uterus, and then won't the ovary be all over her face.
Update: This is Patt Morrison's idea! Kudos (the chocolate and peanut butter variety).
In a wonderful instance of the universe being awesome, mere days after pouring my love for Ghostbusters all over the internets, I am thrilled to announce that I am changing hotels tomorrow -- not just because this hotel requires crazy circumnavigation to get to because of too many impossible-to-make-left-turns but also because they smash glass bottles outside of my room every night and it is very far away from everywhere I need to go in LA -- but mostly because I am switching to the very hotel that played "The Sedgewick" in Ghostbusters. That's right. I will be staying in the very hotel where they got slimed. I hope Slimer is still there, but is the helpful, lovely Slimer of the cartoon rather than the mischievous beastie of the movie. Although I have already pulled a Lucy Ricardo and ironed an iron-shape into one of my skirts, so what additional damage could a beastie Slimer do? Nothing. Exactly. SLIME ME, SLIMER! I want to feel funky, too!
I would like to say, for the record, that were I in a situation like on Mad Men when Bobbie Barrett was asking Don Draper what he liked, I would not hesitate to answer. These are things that I like that are right on the very tippy toppermost of my tongue:
Pandas! Reality television! Also some more pandas! Science Fiction! Futurism / Singularity thinkings and thoughts! Survival from Zombies (both literal and metaphorical) Snorking! Rich's top model recaps! Still yet more pandas! The Hold Steady! Ghostbusters!
And that's just on the very outermost membrane. I could go on. But I shan't. Because, in light of all the delightful news about Ghostbusters 3, and also after a discussion with a friend about Ghostbusters 2 --
ahem -- (yes, it's flawed! but, yes: it's a movie about ghostbusters (ghostbusters!) with an evil Carpathian villain and Peter MacNicol and its message is that you have to be positive and nice because that is the only way to destroy a giant seething mass of pure evil slime that has taken over your city and filled it with bad energy and there are crazy ghosts running amok and ladies are being attacked by their very own fur coats and the ghost Titanic shows up ("better late than never!"), and sometimes goll darn it, you might need the Statue of Liberty to rally the people into being nice and positive because, clearly, ISN'T THAT WHAT NATIONAL MONUMENTS ARE ALL ABOUT???
{in 2008, i feel like the Statue of Liberty would not be able to get a mob of New Yorkers to generate positive vibes. They would have to shower the city with Insta-Health-Coverage and Affordable Real Estate vouchers and then people would be thrilled}.
But perhaps, in 1989 national monuments still made people happy. And it gives one hope to think that even if evil slime is making crazy electrocuted-prisoner ghosts turn your courtrooms upside down, you can counter evil slime with good vibes and turn it into good, happy slime, and then if you were to think happy thoughts and also perhaps play Howard Huntsberry's cover version of the Jackie Wilson song "Your Love Keeps Lifting Me Higher" for the slime because it seems to particularly like that song, and then you could perhaps harvest and harness the power of the happy slime vibrations, and then you could apply that potential energy to the Statue of Liberty and turn it into kinetic energy, why then -- then you could make the Statue of Liberty walk to the Art Museum, and then people would see it and be cheered! And then their good will and joy could break the evil slime's hold on the city and all would be right with the world and Dan Ackroyd would be acting like he was on Ecstasy. Whatta message, am I right? Even when evil slime is oozing all over your city and making holographic ghosts chase its inhabitants around the city, things will get better by thinking good thoughts and doing good things. I am an avowed hippie, and I say to you: think good thoughts and do good things and things will get better. ) --
unahem. -- So. Therefore. I find myself thinking often about Ghostbusters. GHOSTBUSTERS!
Anyway. So Ghostbusters 2 is no Ghostbusters 1, but it's still awesome. Because ... it's the Ghostbusters. So, please, rap along:
In 3rd grade, a friend and I were totally obsessed with Alice Cooper's song “School’s Out” and we brought the song in and played the cassette for our class around the last day of school, after which I exclaimed “Dirty looks! Dirty looks!”
And, like, totally kept on doing that for months and months whenever I was excited about something. “The ice cream man! Dirty looks! Dirty looks!”
Because I have a long and sundried history of mis-interpreting lyrics, I somehow determined that the refrain from the song went “No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers! Dirty looks!”
As if “Dirty Looks!” was something that you would say when you were stoked about something, eg “School’s out for summer! Right on! Dirty looks!”
I mean, I did that for MONTHS. It wasn’t like I was trying to make “Dirty Looks” happen, I sort of assumed it was something that the cool kids (because who was cooler than Alice Cooper?) said.
“Oh boy, a new episode of Alf is on tonight? DIRTY LOOKS! DIRTY LOOKS! DIRTY LOOKS!”
So, on that note: I'm going to LA on Monday. Who wants to hang out? Dirty looks! Dirty looks! Dirty looks!
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