Saturday, December 31, 2005
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
VH1 ALL ACCESS: BAD HABITS premieres Monday, 1/02 at 9p
"Ahh, celebrities. Since the beginning of time, these paragons of humanity have been renowned for beauty, poise, sophistication, and nose-picking. Nose-picking. Stop the press and alert Miss Manners, the rich and famous have nasty habits, just like the rest of the world. The only difference is, when they flip the bird or sneak a peek at somebody's rack, there's a swarm of photographers' right there to take a picture - and that's where All Access: Celebrity Bad Habits comes in. Celebrity Bad Habits will chronicle every A-list breach of good etiquette, from terrible table manners, to over-the-top displays of affection, to the public exhibition of private parts. Featured bastions of poor taste will include: Cameron Diaz, Nicole Richie, Ben Affleck, Bill Gates, Hilary Swank, Anna Nicole Smith, Steve-O, John Travolta, Charlize Theron, Drew Barrymore, Jenna Jameson, the Queen of England, and more."
Saturday, December 24, 2005
After all, according to Saint Lenny Bruce, we killed Jesus, because Lenny found a note in his basement that said:
"We did it, signed Morty."
Ostensibly because he wouldn't be a doctor.
And so Santa's just getting back at us?
But possibly because we knew this Christmas thing was going to happen, and we were prophetically trying to prevent little jewish children from the heartbreak of Santa not coming to visit.
HAPPY WINTER HOLIDAY STUFF!
Thursday, December 22, 2005
December 15, 2005
Oregon Trail Should Come with a Warning Label
Guy #1: You're useless...you keep getting dysentery.
Guy #2: Maybe you're just a lousy trail leader.
Girl: At least he doesn't drown every time we cross a river.
Guy #1: Hey, you caulk the wagon, you take some chances.
--79th Street 1 station
I SO want to meet these people. Guys #1 and #2 and Girl, rock my cel. We should hang. I'll bring an extra axel.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
And what Solstice can be complete without Dar Williams (my teenage idol!) singing "The Christians and The Pagans"? (Listen to it here!. )
I've been far, far away from my hippie-wonder days for a long time, but it feels a little bit like my internal tides are perhaps starting to think about shifting, and I particularly enjoy this line from the song explaining why the Pagan lesbian is not a Christian:
"But we love trees, we love the snow, the friends we have, the world we share / And you find magic from your God, and we find magic everywhere".
Anyhoo! Speaking of songs, here is the song I wrote in my head as I was once again walking to work. It's vaguely to the tune of "Hooray for Hollywood," which I know mostly from that episode of the Simpsons when Mark Hamill was in "Guys and Dolls" and they sang, "Guys and dolls, we're just a bunch of crazy guys and dolls" to the tune of "Hooray for Hollywood."
Ahem. Without further ado:
T-t-t t-t-t-t Transit Strike!
You'll have to walk or maybe ride your bike!
And you can't even take a cab alone!
And then you'll have to pay for every zone!
And walking in the cold is not much fun!
And I can't get my Christmas shopping done!
I sure don't much like
the Transit Strike!
And, just for gits and shiggles: R. Kelly does the national anthem!
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
12:00 This is FUCKING CRAZY This strike could actually happen! This is mindboggling. This is like watching "Twister" except it's not a tornado and I'm not Bill Paxton, but it's that same level of energy. The energy of a tornado, not the energy of Bill Paxton, because he doesn't seem to have any energy, bless his limpid soul.
12:02 Will walking to work be like walking home during the blackout? Will we sing Christmas carols? Because I think widespread caroling would really boost spirits. And spirits! Spirits will boost spirits. Let us all carry flasks of whiskey. Like a human Saint Bernard, but for yourself.
12:05 I think it would be fun if everyone stuck his or her head out of her or her window and yelled, "Panic!" but in a slightly joking tone, a self-deprecatorily sheepish cry of mocking humor. And then we'll all laugh. But just for a brief second, because then we will be sad.
How long would this thing last, if this thing happens?
STRIKE WATCH! STIKE WATCH
Now that I live within walking distance of my office, I am not even listening to the contingency plan. Smuggity Mc Smug! No, wait, I am paying attention - because this shiznit is going to be CRIZAZY!
Monday, December 19, 2005
11:56 And so. It seems the transit strike might actually happen. And they've threatened to fine any transit worker who strikes because there's a law in place that they enacted after the last transit strike that says that striking transit workers get slapped with a ginormous fine. but can't the union take 'em to court over that -- isn't that downright unconstitutional? to deny a group the right to protest? SWEET JEBUS! Ain't that what this country was founded on???
11:58 OH NO, HOLIDAY SHOPPING IS GONNA BE A BITCH.
11:58:30 And what if they can't even open the stores because all the employees are stranded in Queens???
11:59 Oh, a speech.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
my boy jim over at Stereogum has unearthed the worst/best, most horribly awesome thing i've ever heard: "Hump My Tunnel."
it's one of the year's best songs mashed up with the WORST SONG IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.
arcade fire + b.e.p. = MY EARDRUMS ARE MELTING. and yet, they're melting in the worst/best way. It's so awesomely bad, it's almost awesomely amazing. because it's soooooooooo godawful. because I'm amazed at how something composed half-ly of something awesome could be this drecky. DAMN YOU, FERGIE, and your stupid lady lumps. For the record, if anyone EVER refers to any part of me as a lump or a hump, I shall slap that person silly, preferably with a large, stinky-rotten fish.
Jim's post also includes the phrase "audible question mark," which comes from our mutual friend Josh, who's the mastermind behind all creative turns of phrase, such as "I never meta postmodernist..." and my all-time fave, "kickawesome."
But anyway. About this mashup. It's so confusing.
Because your brain goes:
THIS IS SO BAD
BUT YET I AM SO CONFUSED
BECAUSE I AM ACTUALLY STIMULATED BY ITS HORRIBLENESS
BRAIN KINDA LIKES THE PAIN
BECAUSE NOW BRAIN UNDERSTANDS
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
So just a quick thought for everyone: I was thinking about moral law and searching for definite black and white instances of one way of life triumphing over another, and here's what I came up with:
If there are two people living together, let's say in an Odd Couple type of way, and one is neat and one is messy, then the neat person is always in the right. As in, the messy person is always wrong and must both acknowledge his wrongness and defer to the neat person by attempting to be clean. For example, let's say in one's household, the spices are alphabetized on the rack. And Messy Guy always leaves the salt on the counter -- not back on the rack, between Sage and Savory. And the Neat Guy totally has the moral right to say, "Messy Guy, you are wrong. You know Salt belongs on the spice rack in betwixt Sage and Savory and yet you continuously leave it out on the counter. Or you leave your magazines on the coffee table when you know they belong in the magazine rack. Or worse, you didn't take off your shoes when you walked in the door and you left messy tracks all through the house and that is wrong, wrong, wrong." And, truly, the Messy Person is wrong and the Neat Person is right, because the Messy person ought to know that just he because he is messy, Neatness is the righteous ruler of the land and the Messy Person must curb his or her messy tendencies in deference to the reigning morality of cleanliness being next to godliness.
I can't think of any other Ultimate Binary Moral Relativity constructs such as this. Young doesn't always defer to Old, nor vice versa. Short doesn't defer morally to Tall, nor vice versa. Neither does Fat to Thin, Conservative to Liberal, Faith-based to Empirical, nor Coke to Pepsi. It just seems that Neat is always right and Messy is always wrong, and, as a lifelong messy person, this dichotomy fascinates me.
Note: I'm not messy like pizza boxes on the floor, I'm just messy in a I-know-where-everything-is-right-now although-to-you-it-looks-like-a-tornado-hit-my-room/office/desk/cubby. I don't put things away in the physical world because I put them away in my brain, like, duh.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
So, greetings and salutations, interplanetary visitors! I hope you have a Babelfish in your ear so you can understand English. Aussi, je parle francais mais je ne croix pas que vous le comprenez. V'gam, ani midaberet ivreet but I can't type in it.
Anyhoozinskis! On behalf of our humble little planet, I'm so sorry that we continously seem to use the power for evil instead of good. I'm sure you've been using nuclear fission and/or fusion for inter- and intra-galactic travel and curing disease and interesting ways to warp the time-space continuum to correct any horrible natural catastrophes, and we just haven't wrapped our feeble little minds around using the power for good. Yet. There's still hope. I live in a country called America, which is part of that big landmass with the little doohickey hanging off the south east coast (do you use directions the same way we do?) called Florida and the other little doohickey hanging off the south west coast called Baja California. America is theoretically a pretty swell place to live because we theoretically enjoy many freedoms, although practically shit is fucked up, yo. My country is currently involved in a war (you probably don't have those) based on false pretenses and selfish motivation. It's like if Mars attacked Venus because Mars wanted Venus' natural gases, and Mars lied about why it was attacking Venus, and then the Martians found out that there were more nefarious reasons for the attack on Venus but the Martian leader thought that he was right because of his Imaginary Friend named "God." It's kindasorta just like that. Right. So there's lots of similarly bad stuff happening all over this humble little planet, and people kill other people because they somehow believe that their specific Imaginary Friends named "God" are more real than other people's particular Imaginary Friends (who are also named "God," although in different languages), and there are wars and suicide bombings and hateful graffiti and physical assaults all because people on this planet seem compelled to assert the righteousness of their own Imaginary Friends. And we have poverty and hunger and disease and hate and some people are starving while some other people are paid to destroy their crops and still other people throw away millions of pounds of food each day because they're on diets. But we also have some fantastic things, like music. And sex. And diet coke. Wonder abounds! Please come visit us and teach us how to eradicate AIDS and cancer and heart disease. Or at least come and visit and indulge in a really great slice of pizza (with a diet coke). I'm quite sure that's worth the journey.
Monday, December 05, 2005
This sign is in the window of the Bubba Gump restaurant that's right across the street from my office and it just kills me.
See -- MTV was born in 1981.
And when I was a senior in high school and had a whopping bout of mono, I watched "Forrest Gump" about a million times on HBO, because it was always on and I lacked the energy even to pick up the remote and change the channel. (Once I was able to make it downstairs to the tv room, that was it, as far as energy expenditure went).
And, call me stupid, but doesn't Bubba die in Forrest's arms over there in 'Nam? So he bought the farm sometime during the Vietnam War (1954 - 1975). And we know he was looooong dead and worm food before Hurricane Carmen, the storm in 1974 that wiped out all the other shrimping boats, leaving Forrest and Lt. Dan the only shrimpers around, and thus launching the Bubba Gump shrimp company into its lucrative state.
And Forrest started the shrimp company with his winnings from being a Ping Pong champion, at least a year or so after he returned from 'Nam. So let's assume Bubba bit the big one at the latest in the early 70s, but probably in the late 60s. So Bubba's favorite was never ever MTV, could never have been MTV, no way, no how, no shit. Because Bubba kicked it probably 15 years or so before MTV graced the earth with its somethingness.
That's me, kids. Fighting for the facts.
And get your Tivo ready because So Jewtastic airs Monday, 12/19 at 9/8c. It's me and a bunch of other heebs, discussing what it's like to be neurotic, nose-y and nasal.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
i love shooting. love love love.
shooting of the film variety (And often of the electronic deer variety) but not of the violent variety.
love and kisses,
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Click through the slideshow. Brillz.
It's a panda! It's a dog! It's a panda! It's a dog! It's a panda AND a dog!
She's my sister! She's my daughter! She's my sister AND my daughter!
Monday, November 28, 2005
So, my roomie brought home a dresser last night that he'd found on the street (lemme tell you, trash night in Chelsea is kickawesome). And in the top drawer, he found these four artifacts: bee deedlybobbers, a plastic sword, a jock strap (sans cup, but seemingly unused) and a print-out of the requirements and instructions for becoming a Navy SEAL. We tried to figure it out -- did the wannabe SEAL buy the sword to practice all those stand-at-attention sword things those militerrific people do? Whilst wearing a jockstrap? And bee antennae? We just couldn't quite figure it out. If a dude were to toss his dresser, why would he leave these particular artifacts in his top drawer? Zug? The mind reels. And the rind meels.
In other Chelsea awesomeness, we went to Blossom last night, which is Chelsea's first organic vegan restaurant. It is a teensy bit 'spency but it is AWESOMELY DELICIOUSO! Go go go, my organavegan friends!
In other news, All Access: Red Hot Red Carpet 2005 premieres this Wednesday, November 30th at 9pm.
In other news, my friend and one-time costar of our I Love the 90s "Peach Pit" and "90s Specials" spots, Hal Sparks, has relaunched his website to tout his band, the oddly-named Hal Sparks Band.
In still other news, I have been asked to Grand Marshal the North American Cycle Courier Championships in Philadelphia. I hear it's a Dionysianly awesome bloody good time. I shall be there.
In yet still other news, a fan has asked me to call her friend and wish him a merry Xmas for his Xmas present. I kinda want to fly to wherever he is and wassail him in person.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
So. R. Kelly's Trapped in the Closet. Perhaps you've read the cliff notes. And, sweet spatula, it's so good.
We were watching it in the office today and my officemate was agog and incredulous that this might actually be a real piece of music, intended to be sincere. She couldn't believe anyone might actually discuss a midget shitting himself in a real song. And I told her that I think it was, actually, intended maybe kinda sorta to be taken seriously. Hence the brilliant DVD commentary. And just general brilliance. I mean, geez louise, blow me offa my knees, it's just the most goll darn entertaining thing I've ever watched. The horrid lip syncing, the mindboggling epic story, all of it - it's so genius bad that it transcends to a new level of genius. Because it is damn difficult to make anything more entertaining, more eyeball-glueable, more water-cooler-gossip-inducing than In the Closet.
A tip of the hat to you, R. Kelly.
If I ever have babies, please don't pee on them.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Monday, November 14, 2005
Thursday, November 10, 2005
And I'm writing some stuff that's making me happy, which is always a good feeling.
And I've been listening to Tegan & Sara's album "So Jealous" on repeat, and that's keeping me awesome. And now I'm dorking out and listening to the Killers' "Mr. Brightside," which is my guiltyguilty pleasure of good-feeling and it's making the thunderstorm less disturbing.
And here's what I wanted to share: No matter where, no matter when, no matter how, I am always amused and entertained and quietly thrilled when someone starts a conversation by saying, "Longtime listener, first-time caller."
I wish there were more of that in the world, I rightly do.
Also, I'm so glad the person on Lost who died tonight was the person on Lost who died! (How's THAT for not giving anything away, my little Tivo-watching readers?)
Also, if you have HBO On Demand, I highly recommend watching One Night Stand #59, Flight of the Conchords. It tickled my funnybone in the most delightful of ways and I heart them.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
So you all know I've been obsessed with Freezy Freakies since I love the 80s 3D. And I haven't been able to find them on ebay, so I emailed the fine people at Swany Gloves, the manufacturers of the original Freezy Freakies (version 1.0). And they sent me photos of their new Freezy Freakies (version 5.0?) that you can buy at Bob's Stores and BJ's Warehouses and stuff like that. I don't think there's a Bob's nor a BJ's in Manhattan, but perhaps all of you lucky people in the suburbs can buy freezy freakies for this winter.
Personally, however, I'm still waiting to buy a pair of 1.0's, preferably with a unicorn or a castle or a magical snow fairy on 'em.
Monday, November 07, 2005
I'd just like to say that G.E. Smith is rocking out two buildings down from mine. I see him all the time and I always expect that he'll be making the rockface.
Ever see GE sans the rockface? Probably not. Not unless you live two doors down! Jealous?
Friday, November 04, 2005
Back in the day, when I was working for a major theatrical production company that shall not be named, I remember bitching to my friend Kenan about how ALL I WANTED IN THE WHOLE WORLD was to go to an opening night performance, and then be at the opening night party when someone would rush in with a newspaper hot off the presses and read the review out loud to everyone in attendance. This doesn't happen anymore, which makes me sad. But the reviews are good! I guess reading them online is still exciting, but it really doesn't compare to the scene that happens in my mind with the producers running out to the newsies on the corner and buying the whole stack of papers. Dang.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
It's not as dookie as it sounds. See, we were watching "Altered States" from Neflix. It's a flawed film, sure, but it's based on a Paddy Chayefsky novel and the concepts expressed within are pretty awesome. And it was just getting good, and then we paused it to cut up some apples. We're a little OCD with our apple-eating rituals in this house, so it takes a little while to prepare the snack. And when we got back to the TV, our Xbox (on which we play DVDs) was on the fritz. And, try as we might, we couldn't get the DVD to work again.
So we turned to HBO On Demand and were seriously contemplating watching a new movie, one that neither of us had ever seen. But we couldn't help but noticing that "Dave" was on the list of offerings, and we started recalling all the killer set pieces:
"Once I caught a fish this big" and when he sings "Hail to the chief, he's the one we all say Chief to," in shower, and "Oh no, poor Joe, he has no EYES!"
And so we looked at each other and realized: fuckit, we actually wanted to watch "Dave." For, like, the 7th time each. Because I've only ever seen the whole thing once start-to-finish, but I'd seen most of the movie whenever I stumbled across it on late weekend afternoon.
It's one of those perfect movies -- like Ferris Beuller's Day Off, or The Goonies, or Kindergarten Cop, or Ghostbusters -- that's so well-paced and so mildly entertaining that you'll just watch it whenever it's on (usually on TBS or TNT). In fact, I once spent an entire winter watching various bits of "When Harry Met Sally" in between errands and evening plans. That kind of movie.
And so we settled in to watch "Dave." And GEEZ LOUISE! It's astounding. The role of "President" is treated with such merit and gravitas and majesty! And every time they show the White House -- holy shit! It's such a beautiful and majestic building! And the score swells and it's shot with such pride and esteem and, golly gee! Back in 1993, we RESPECTED the Presidency! The President was a dude we all treated with respect! The White House was something AWESOME!
And now, if we were showing the White House on film, it would be accompanied by mournful music. Or "wah wah" Drunken-blues-style music. Or even a Raymond Scott tune. It's a source of disdain and disgust, and, at best, mild amusement. It's a source of frustration and consternation and aggravation (damn, if I don't sound like a Guthrie right now).
Le sigh, le grande sigh, indeed.
Speaking of Presidents, we watched ex-prexy Carter on CNN last night. And, damn it, he's this out-and-about Christian (ox Xtian as I used to write it during religion classes) and yet he's outwardly espousing that this administration has taken religious fundamentalism too far. He wrote a new book called "America's Moral Crisis" and it's about how there's no longer a separation of Church and State and that the War in Iraq is wrong because we went to war without being directly threatened and based on incorrect evidence. And that we should keep science separate from religion and that people can believe in god but that creationism should be kept out of science classrooms. Bless his rational, believing-in-science soul. After all, the dude isn't just a peanut farmer, he's also a nuclear scientist. And how about that Habitat for Humanity?
And while I disagree with the fact that he is not a fan of Roe V. Wade, Carter at least acknowledges that it ought not to be overturned (he advocates lowering the number of abortions by making it easier for mothers to support their children by offering them financial assistance and by education young people about sex so they know how to prevent unwanted pregnancies). Longtime readers know that I am a very big supporter of maintaining legalized abortions (US out of my Uterus!) and that I'm supremely concerned about the direction the Supreme Court might take. But I have to say, hearing a devout Christian statesman advocate sex education is refreshing, in an age when our President wants to promote abstinenceinstead of sexual health and pregnancy prevention. According to a report by the Union of Concerned Scientists, "During President Bush's tenure as governor of Texas from 1995 to 2000, for instance, with abstinence-only programs in place, the state ranked last in the nation in the decline of teen birth rates among 15- to 17-year-old females. Overall, the teen pregnancy rate in Texas was exceeded by only four other states."
And beyond the politics themselves, Carter is just so fucking presidential. He doesn't stammer, he doesn't stumble; he speaks eloquently and sincerely. He's well-spoken, he uses rhetoric, and he's quite the statesman, always answering questions diplomatically and thoughtfully. And I look for the Presidents of yesterday -- the Carters, the Clintons, the Daves -- leaders who made us feel like things might just be okay, even if lots of stuff sucked. Right now, it just seems like things really suck and our President is not only responsible for the suckfest, but continues to make things worse. Oh no, poor Joe, he has no ETHICS!
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
That's where I used to get my hair cut!
This is not interesting to anyone except, perhaps, my little brother, who continued to get his hair cut there long after I was being snipped by my mother's stylist, a woman named Danielle who once "highlighted" my mother's hair into a blonde-on-brunette checkerboard, I shit you not.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
So whilst we were at my boyf's cabin this weekend, I decided I wanted to buy some colored pencils so I could sketch costumes for the Up With People theatre troupe that was forming in my head. So we drove into town and visited their lovely art store, right on Main Street.
And imagine my surprise when we got to the cashier, and directly above her head was a furry grey penis! I tried to mutter sotto voce, "Is it me, or is that dirty?" but there were children all around me and I fear I was not too sly. The cashier (pretended, at least) ignored me, and we paid for our purchases and left, but not before I snapped this photo of what THE MAN wants you to believe is simply a harmless elephant mask, although if you were to wear this mask, people would point and laugh at you for wearing a penis on your face, with a symmetrical scrotum resting just below your chin.
Actually, you would be awesome. But people would probably still laugh and call you "Dickface" behind your back.
Jealous much? Last Friday, Mike Doughty and his upright bassist, Scrap (note: Scrap is both an upright man, as well as a player of the upright bass) rocked our office. VH1 is playing his new video for "Looking at the World From the Bottom of the Well" (watch the video) and ATO records put together a little "Thanks, VH1 Talent Department" performance.
I am not part of the Talent Department but I snuck (sneaked?) into the gig.
Actually, I didn't sneak at all. I'm friends with some of those Talent cats and we're all one big happy fambly under the Viacommunist umbrella.
And I got to watch Mike mingle with the bigwigs, and I talked to Scrap about Balactica for a long time, and it was a swell way to end the week. (NOTE: I was erroneously informed that Balactica picks up in December. Alas, this is not true. The DVD of Season 2.0 comes out December 20th. Le sigh, le sigh).
As you can see in this photo, Mike and Scrap were performing in the head-of-the-department area. On my floor, we call this region the "Creative HQ," but I'm not sure what Talent calls it. Often, VH1 employees are treated to VH1-pimped artists performing in the VH1 reception lobby. Most often, I am far to busy to go see Trey Anastasio or Jaime Cullum or Maroon 5 or Keane or Aqualung. In fact, I am usually out of the office when these perqs are happening. Sometimes, like when Trey Anastasio performed, I try to be as far out of the office as possible.
The only other VH1 performance I ever attended was when Darius Rucker performed in the reception lobbby. And right now, you are scratching your head and asking, "Bex, who, pray tell, is Darius Rucker?"
And I answer:
Now, I am not a Hootie fan, nor am I particularly fond of Darius Rucker's solo, gospel-tinged work. I went to the Hootie performance because I wanted to get Hootie's autograph for my friend, Chris.
Chris is also not a Hootie fan, nor is he particularly fond of Darius Rucker's solo, gospel-tinged work.
I wanted to get Hootie's autograph for Chris, because once upon a time Chris and I spent an entire languid, August evening driving around New Jersey with a copy of Catcher in the Rye, asking everyone we saw if they had seen Hootie.
Yes. We were Hootie-hunting.
It started earlier in the day. Chris and I were trying to figure out how to entertain ourselves that night. Chris had just graduated high school and was about to head off to college. I was about to be a junior at Glen Rock High School. We were bored. And we were hot. And worst of all, we were angry.
We were angry because every time we turned on the tv or the radio, we heard Hootie. Hootie was everywhere that summer, and his assault on music-loving eardrums was just too much. We decided that Hootie had to go.
And so we did what any music-based assassin would do - we stuck Catcher in the Rye in the glove compartment and prowled the not-mean-at-all streets of northern New Jersey, searching for Hootie. And if we found him, we were going to sit him and tell him that if he didn't stop singing everywhere and all the time, we would be forced to do something mean.
We weren't going to shoot him or anything, we just thought he needed to learn an important lesson. And we were going to teach him that lesson. And we were also going to teach his grandmother to suck eggs.
But, alas. We would approach a pedestrian, roll down our windows and ask if they'd seen Hootie, but no one has even caught a glimpse of the homogenized lead singer. We gave up the Hootie hunt.
And then, a few years ago, Chris saw Hootie in Disneyworld. And then, a year or so later, I saw the bass player from Hootie in front of Space Mountain. It seemed the Hootie forces were aligning in our favor.
And then came the day when a superspecial email landed in my mailbox. I was cordially invited to a Darius Rucker performance right in my very own lobby.
And so I went. And I showed up just as Hootie was finishing his last song. And I waited as the crowd thinned out, and I asked him to sign my notebook. I said, "Could you sign this 'To Chris', please?" And he said sure.
And he wrote:
God bless man.
ZUG??? As Chris says, it's quite the unusual theology. Was he telling Chris that God blesses Man? Does that mean Man singular (Chris) or Man plural (Everyone Else)? Is it a command: Hey God, please bless man! Is it a prayer: I hope in the future that God shall bless man? Or did he intend it to read "God Bless, man." Like he's sooo cool and casual that he just throws that out: God Bless, Dude. Yo Chica, God Bless.
Who knew Hootie was such a mystic?
Monday, October 31, 2005
We fled the city, choosing to carve punkins and drink cider instead of running amok across Manhattan, in search of the Best Halloween Party Ever.
Fleeing was a good choice.
My boyf's pumpkin is on the left. Mine is on the right -- it vaguely resembles Crazy Eddie, n'est-ce pas?
And speaking of crazy -- so, dig: I hadn't carved a pumpkin in years and years. And when I was kid, we always got the smaller pumpkins -- the ones that cost 3 bucks, max. I always got the round ones and my brother would get the tall ones -- I like Ernies, he likes Berts. But this was my first grown-up pumpkin to carve, and so I got a very big, way-more-that-3-bucks pumpkin.
And when I was a kid, I faintly recalled that pumpkin-carving always made my hands feel funny. But the tingle was always short-lived and it never really bothered me enough to mention. But this time!!! Carving a ginormous pumpkin?? INTERROBANG! Whilst scraping out the goo and seeds, I noticed that my hands started to feel like they were burning. But I kept going, diligent pumpkin-carver that I am. And my arms were plunged into the pumpkin up to my elbows. And I scraped and scooped and did all sorts of innards-removal and then I realized my hands were REALLY burning. So I washed off the goo, and I had nasty hive thingies all over my wrists! And I eat pumpkin soup all the time, so it can't be that I'm allergic to pumpkin; it must be some sort of contact dermatitis with pumpkin or something.
Has anyone else ever experienced pumpkin burn? Because holy shiznit, it SUCKS. And I am I totally weird? Is pumpkin goo my personal kryptonite? My gourdriffic Achilles heel?
Please, I beg of you: tell me I'm not alone.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Now, was this suicide foreplanned so as to freak out the kids in her neighborhood who would eventually go up for a closer look at what they thought was a really well-done yard decoration? Like: "I'll get those nasty kids, the ones who rip up my flowerbeds and egg my windows, once and for all! Bwa ha ha ha!"
Or was she so distraught and miserable and depressed that she simply had to take her own life, and she didn't even realize it was Halloween?
Or did she just not realize that Halloween-in-America means faux bodies hanging from trees?
(Note: if you bought this hanging body, could you get it to clap during the "Knights of the Round Table" number?)
Someone call CSI. This is TOTALLY next year's Halloween episode.
Note: is a swollen-eyed girl the opposite of a sunken-eyed girl?. Rumor has it that a certain someone is going to rock my office later this afternoon. Woot!
... so last night, all of a sudden, my apartment smelled like maple syrup! Or, rather, more like the maple-syrup-esque odor of Waffle Crisp (note: this WHOLE WEBSITE is about breakfast cereal. Whoa.) Now, waffle crisp isn't a bad odor -- it's just an all-pervasively-mapleriffic scent. And everywhere I went -- my bedroom, the bathroom, the living room -- everywhere, it smelled like Waffle Crisp (except the kitchen, which always smells faintly of the kitty box). And I thought maybe it was me, and I sniffed myself, and even I smelled like Waffle Crisp.
So I thought I was surely hallucinating. I thought, gee, I'm taking some new allergy medications, and a gallon of eyedrops, and maybe the drugs+eyedrops+Bex combo smells like Waffle Crisp.
But, I was not hallucinating!!!!!
Lots of people smelled Waffle Crisp!
Dear me. An entire city smelled maple syrup, and I bet there are other people out there who thought they were the only ones experiencing Waffle Crisp flashbacks in their brains. But it was real!
Unless ... unless we were all undergoing a collective hallucination, like in So Long, And Thanks for All The Fish, when the destruction of Planet Earth is explained to the public (now living on a replacement Earth) as mass hallucinations:
``Come on, you remember all that stuff. The hallucinations. Everyone said it was a cock up, the CIA trying experiments into drug warfare or something. Some crackpot theory that instead of invading a country it would be much cheaper and more effective to make everyone think they'd been invaded.''
``What hallucinations were those exactly ...?'' said Arthur in a rather quiet voice.
``What do you mean, what hallucinations? I'm talking about all that stuff with the big yellow ships, everyone going crazy and saying we're going to die, and then pop, they vanished as the effect wore off. The CIA denied it which meant it must be true.''
Mass-maple-syrup-smelling as CIA coverup?
Oh boy! Crazy crackpot conspiracists -- get your guns!
Thursday, October 27, 2005
I am not a happy camper.
I just wanted to share.
Here, this is funny: (courtesy of Josh)
Q: How do you titillate an ocelot?
A: You oscillate its tit alot!
BWW HA HA HA HA HA!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Thanks, Nate, for bringing up memories of last year's drunken Halloweening.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Last Friday, I was working all night and my brain started to hurt so I momentarily distracted myself with an IM conversation with Liam. I present it in its entirety because it makes me happy. Pretend you're reading a screenplay or something.
Bex: i met rue mclanahan the other day, she was doing v/o at the audio house i was at
Liam: Are you shitting me?
Bex: for reals
Liam: You met Blanche Golden?
Bex: her skin looks like cardboard
Bex: the one and only blanche elizabeth devereaux
Liam: Really. She looks like she takes great care of herself
Bex: she does, i'm sure
Bex: but she be old
Bex: and liver spotted
Bex: with makeup, i'm sure she's smoking
Liam: You are an honorary gay man
Bex: i have been, ever since i launched Logo
Bex: and because i like sucking cock
Liam: She was the slutty Golden Girl
Bex: she was the BEST golden girl
Liam: I always like Bea Arthur
Liam: To me, a little bea is never a bad thing
Bex: or her penis
Liam: She was the original Yenta the Matchmaker
Bex: she's a goddess, that one
Liam: Now played by Rosie O'Donnel on broadway
Bex: do you remember when she and urkel did the urkel?
Bex: on that awards show, in like 91?
Liam: I never followed Family Matters
Bex: it was the opening number
Liam: Poor Bea Arthur
Bex: and they were singing "do the urkel, do the ur ur ur ur ur kel" and urkel and everyone was doing the urkel
Bex: and bea said, "but i don't wanna do the Urkel"
Bex: it was breath-taking
Liam: But she ended up doing the Urkel, didn't she?
Bex: i believe she did
Bex: at long last
Liam: There will come a day when we will all do the Urkel in one form or another
Liam: It's showbusiness
Bex: BUT I DON"T WANNA DO THE URKEL!
It's like Mike Doughty sometimes sings: "I don't need to walk around with Urkel."
And yet, we will all, in one way or another, end up doing the Urkel.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Oh, such joy and rapture. We went to see my faveywaveyest rock star, Mike Doughty last night, and the show was kickawesome.
Now THAT's what I'm rockin' about.
We had superspecial vippy seats up in the balcony, where we got to watch both the show and also the audience rocking out (except for the imbeciles who insisted on chatting loudly throughout Mike's solo-sans-band numbers. Poop on them).
And, alas, there was no "Janine" and no "The Only Answer" but we were treated to nearly every track from Haughty Melodic and an awwwwesome "True Dreams of Wichita" (during which I tried to initiate the boo into the "you had it but you sold it" moment) and a Paradise City / The Gambler mashup of epic proportions, as well as an extended version of "Firetruck" all curled up into "It's Raining Men."
I heart Mike Doughty always 'n' forever.
10 photos of Senor Doughty rocking Webster Hall, as taken by little ol' me, can be found right here.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Whoop de hoo! Personally, I think it's fracking hot that she compares "Breaking Bonaduce" to "Network:"
With VH1's new series Breaking Bonaduce (Sundays at 10 p.m. ET with multiple re-airings throughout the week), reality televison approaches the nadir foretold by the 1976 film Network: It attempts to garner an audience with the dangled promise of an on-air suicide.
And, yes, we've been dangling that promise since we started promoting this show way back in August, after I shot Danny and Gretchen and learned all about their bologna-covered ratdog.
Holy shit, I've turned into Diana Christensen and I didn't even realized it until Slate told me so.
This is the Anti-Smoosh. They're called "Prussian Blue" and they're on a mission to use their blondhaired/blue-eyedness to spread the message of evil.. Please note that ABC named their jpeg "Nazi Twins." To further illustrate their evil, I offer this snippet from an interview in Vice about their name:
Interviewer: "Please tell me the significance of the name Prussian Blue."
Nazi Twins: "Part of our heritage is Prussian German. Also our eyes are blue, and Prussian Blue is just a really pretty color. There is also the discussion of the lack of "Prussian Blue" coloring (Zyklon B residue) in the so-called gas chambers in the concentration camps. We think it might make people question some of the inaccuracies of the "Holocaust" myth."
ACK! Scary, scary folksinging Nazi twins! Aaaack!
NO HEILS TO PRUSSIAN BLUE!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
This post is relevant only because I am so extremely stoked to see Mr. Mike ROCK the Webster Hall on Saturday with his merry band of cylons.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
This is how it works -- set your digicam for a long exposure and take a picture; while the photo is snapping, toss the digicam in the air. And you get magic!!
Here is camera-tossing the blog, and here's the scoop from the flickr group:
DEFINING A CAMERA TOSS (and some tips)
- Hands free. Your hands may not be on the camera during the majority of the exposure. Most often that means throwing it. Toss is about fluidity, not just jostling your camera about.
- Experimenting with timers and remote triggers highlly encouraged.
- Good catching skills or construction of camera crash nets/pads/bungees/shells highly suggested for high dollar cameras.
Oh man, just check the photostream.
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Snicker, snicker. Snort, snort.
Like she jumped out of a supply closet with a cock ring and a riding crop?
Also ... Hey, CNN: slow news day? If this is your fracking lead story????!!! Interobang!!!
See, see! See what I have won from ebay! What a perfect evening this program promises -- I can think of nothing better than a cup of tea, a good lie down and me.
The question, of course, is what do I do with this?
Perhaps if I ever become an escort, I could use it as my ad in the back of the Village Voice.
I'm trying to figure out what "A cup of tea, a Bex, and a good lie down" means.
Ah-ha! It's oldfangled dinkum Australian slang, the Aussie equivalent of "Take a chill pill." Check it:
Language is dynamic and consequently expressions that are widely accepted and commonplace for one generation will disappear when circumstances change. No one today talks about "a cup of tea, a Bex and a good lie down" partly because Bex (a form of powdered aspirin) does not enjoy the popularity it did in the 1950s.
See? They used to prescribe Bex as a cure for "nervous tension". Teehee. That's a silly, silly idea. I cause nervous tension, I don't alleviate it.
And, oh no! The Bex-taking Aussie ladies developed kidney failure!
Oh, dear. Perhaps that explains why I was so unpopular in grade school.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Don't believe me? En garde! The gauntlet is thrown! I met Joel in London but now he lives in Paris, so he's a theaterguy (ask him about "performing the world") and a sometimes media guy and an academic guy (photography and performance) Parisian with a Yorkshire accent. And he was telling us how he shot this thing for Motorola as the face of 3G. But he hadn't seen the final product yet. So we went to Motorola's webhome and discovered -- lo, and behold. Joel is totally Motorola's version of our 80s 3D "Hologram Guide" character. Please behold Joel's reign of Informative Authoritarian Face-of-3G Awesomeness. Make sure you click through all the options and listen to his very detailed spiel. And take the quiz! Especially if you answer incorrectly; he'll admonish you.
We took Joel's quiz, and then we took Kirk Cameron's quiz about god. We leaned an awful lot, particularly the fact that Kirk Cameron's god sure sounds like a real nasty sonofabitch. And we also realized Kirk must be an awesome proselytizer, because really, who's not going to let Mike Seaver into his or her home?
This photo features Mr. 3G Himself leering lasciviously at our engineer's My Little Pony.
We were struck dumb by how sexy this late-model My Little Pony is. Such widespread anime eyes! Such alluring curves! Such ... muscle definition and Yoga-esque tone?
Wait ... we all recalled the ponies of our youth ... the pleasantly plump, cutesypoo original ponies. And without warning, they evolved into new, sexysexy, supermodel, heroin chic ponies! Ack!
And, oh, how this new pony is such a sassy, little flirt!
And we are not the first to note the sexysexy aspect of the new My Little Ponies. The fineminded Lore Sjöberg from a website called "The Brunching Shuttlecocks"" offers the Porn Star or My Little Pony? quiz.
I took the quiz and failed, miserably. Mortifyingly wrong, considering a unicorn pony named Moondancer was once a cherished possession. Oh, Moondancer. How I miss you and all the fun times we shared, pretending to ride over rainbows with Pinky Jr., the gray kitty, and Rust, the teenytiny bunny.
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Josh and I went to slay electronic elk, and on the way to a therapeutic session of Big Buck Hunter we passed a thrift store. This was the window display: apparently, it's a mannequin dressed as Ms. Dick Tracy meets the Phantom of the Opera, and a Bear. A bear who eats bodies but not hands. Please note the disembodied hand in the lower right quadrant of this photo. Why has this thrift shop chosen to display its wares in such a way? What is the story of this shopwindow? Who wants to write the winning caption in the comments section? Let 'er rip.
a) lived in Williamsburg
b) been in an NYC rockband
c) been an early-twentysomething in NYC
then Gary's life could be your own.
I devoured his columns like a weasel devours a three-legged chicken.
And now, there's a book!
And now, the truth is out -- Gary Benchley is none other than superawesome guy Paul Ford! He discloses the truth right over here.
And now I can disclose that Paul Ford is good friends with my friend Steve. Steve once accompanied me to one of my post-Nipplegate reaction breast-puppet shows. And that, friends,that is the reason why, on page 22, you will find Gary's account of going to Galapagos and seeing a woman do a breast-puppet show.
You can also read Gary's Galapagos adventure in the fourth installment of the serialized Letters of Gary Benchley right here. To entice you, please read Gary's Galapagos description -- it's one of the most awesomely simple/complex analyses of the WB scene I know:
There is a bar called Galapagos, which is also an art and performance space, and when you walk in there’s a large black reflecting pool surrounded by a rail. At first the pool looks incredibly deep, almost bottomless, but it is actually shallow, and you can see your reflection in it. It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. To me, that pool is Williamsburg.
But the book! The whole fucking book is like that! It's SO FUCKING AWESOME RAD, it is my doubleplus number one recommendation.
I also highly recommend Harvey Danger's new album, "Little by Little." You can, in this want-it-for-free-RIGHT-NOW age, download it for free right over here. Zug? Sputter sputter what? For FREE? Yes. Read why right here. The album's stellar; Sean Nelson and his cronies created some topnotch stuff. Peppy pop, solid melodies, swirly harmonies. I disagree with their current choice of single but I wholeheartedly endorse this album.
And speaking even more of rock stars, my favoritest rock star and buddy Mike Doughty is rocking NYC on the 22nd and I'm fracking stoked. Especially because I am now immortalized on his blog for revealing that Captain Adama survives Boomer/Sharon's attempt on his life at the end of season 1 of Balactica.
In other NYC-centric news, our mindboggling hologram for I love the 80s 3d is still at Regal Cinema (13th and Broadway) but now it's on the 1st floor, right next to the ATM machine, so you don't have to buy a ticket to see it. Free entertainment in NYC! How fantabulous!
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Why? Because you ought to know them. And also because "Bangkok" is TOTALLY the funniest name of a city ever, beating out even Sheboygan and Poughkeepsie. Bank-cock? Sounds good to me! And mostly because I simply cannot believe this song was such a huge hit (and my officemate has it as her ringtone) and I think we should all adore this song for all its seedy absurdity:
ONE NIGHT IN BANGKOK (click here to listen to the song -- you're going to need to skip past the first minute or so of vaguely offensive "Thai" music until you get to the actual song ... but it's worth it. Oh, it is sooooo worth it.)
Bangkok, Oriental setting
And the city don't know that the city is getting
The creme de la creme of the chess world in a
Show with everything but Yul Brynner
Time flies - doesn't seem a minute
Since the Tirolean spa had the chess boys in it
All change - don't you know that when you
Play at this level there's no ordinary venue
It's Iceland... or the Philippines... or Hastings... or... or this place!
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free
You'll find a god in every golden cloister
And if you're lucky then the god's a she
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One town's very like another
When your head's down over your pieces, brother
It's a drag, it's a bore, it's really such a pity
To be looking at the board, not looking at the city
Whaddya mean? Ya seen one crowded, polluted, stinking town...
Tea, girls, warm, sweet, sweet
Some are set up in the Somerset Maugham suite
Get Thai'd! You're talking to a tourist
Whose every move's among the purest
I get my kicks above the waistline, sunshine
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
Siam's gonna be the witness
To the ultimate test of cerebral fitness
This grips me more than would a
Muddy old river or reclining Buddha
And thank God I'm only watching the game, controlling it
I don't see you guys rating
The kind of mate I'm contemplating
I'd let you watch, I would invite you
But the queens we use would not excite you
So you better go back to your bars, your temples, your massage parlours
One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster
The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free
You'll find a god in every golden cloister
A little flesh, a little history
I can feel an angel sliding up to me
One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble
Not much between despair and ecstasy
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble
Can't be too careful with your company
I can feel the devil walking next to me
And thus concludes my public service for October 12, 2005.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Mr. Babylon's Only Lost Blog You'll Ever Need.. I'm a Lost dork and I read all the boards (lurker stillz) when time permits, but something about this particular blog just tickles my fancy the way it likes to be tickled.
My boys, The Long Winters, are Spin's band o' the day!
This roundup of kickawesome mp3 blogs (thanks, always'n'forever, to Stereogum for the tip. And superspecial hearts to the new 'gum writers. Jed 'n' Jim are j-tastic!
Gorilla vs. Bear has been tickling my eardrums for quite some time -- go visit and learn about bands you've never heard of because you don't have discretionary time to surf the bsphere.
Yes, I just used the term "bsphere." Suck it.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
But, oh! Jamey Sheridan will always be Randall Flagg, no matter which L&O he's on! And Laura San Giacomo will never look as lovely as the white-haired Nadine. And, oh, to watch Molly Ringwald and Gary Sinise make out in what must be one of the most awkward makeout scenes ever to be captured on film, featuring two actors who clearly don't often make-out in front of cameras! And m-o-o-n spells Tom Cullen! And beautiful Rob Lowe who can't talk or speak, but he emotes homoeroticism so clearly!
And, oh, how one assumes that everyone who goes to Boulder is enlightened, and yet they still do what god tells them to do. Even though god soooo didn't tell Larry to carry that damned guitar all the way to Vegas. Stupid Larry. Even if he does rock out "Eve of Destruction" at the exactperfect moment. And still! Why does everyone travel in such impractical clothes? Jumpsuits, people, jumpsuits! With lots of pockets! Like, no doykies!
And Ruby Dee! As Mother Abigail! Who suffered through the worst makeup in the history of the miniseries. She looked like a turtle to me then, and she looks like a turtle to me now. It's the makeup. And the hunched shoulders/shawl combo that looks so much like a shell.
And, in a random note -- didja hear? Stephen King killed Lennon!
I spent the weekend curled up in a cozy cabin, watching movies.
Watch The Corporation! And you'll never drink milk (at least not in America) again!
Don't ever watch Sin City! Because you'll want those two hours of your life back! All the style in the world is no substitue for lack of substance. And Robert Rodriguez went all indie and left the guild for that??!! Interrobang!
Watch In the Mood for Love! If just to see the movie everyone else rips off.
And, for the love of all things awesome, please watch Network! Because it's so fucking prescient! And because no body has the ovaries to make a film like that anymore. And because everyone in it just shimmers with talent. And because, really, aren't you mad as hell and you're not going to take it anymore? Jesus fuck, I know I am.
That musta been the best fucking wedding reception ever.
I am not in Miami. Did you (not) miss me?
Friday, October 07, 2005
Or you can just read it right here:
Thursday, 10/6 - we were at Scruffy Duffy's (not my choice! A going-away party for a colleague!), trying to drink away the pain of being in a sports bar surrounded by midtownies, and yet there, holding court right in the middle of the bar (so that everyone walking into the place had to walk right by him?) was none other than that handsome plumber dude from desperate housewives - James Denton. I only know his name because I watch ET at the gym and they're always interviewing him about whether his character is going to get it on with the anorexic formerly-Lois Lane lady. But he seemed very nice and was chatting with anyone who approached him. He put his hand on my back when I tried to squeeze through the crowd to make an escape from the Scruffy-ness and, I tell you, I felt a little tingly.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
But I'm going to Miami! For work! Can I get a whut whut?
And no, I'm not going jet-skiing with Diddy. I have to do a shoot.
Do I know anyone in Miami? Let me know if I do.
Man! I am jonesing for some freezy freakies, much like the way a junkie might jones for smack.
You might also like to learn that the numbers may be interpreted as gps coordinates and that The Hanso Foundation has a website.
So we've been working for aaaaaages on this holographic kiosk of radness for I Love the 80s 3D, and it's finally up and running in theaters NEAR YOU! Okay, I don't know if it's near you, but if you live in NYC, check it out on the 2nd floor of the Regal Cinema in Union Square. Its a throwback to EPCOT-y 80s science-driven 3D wonderland preshow informational presentations ... starring both a Holographic Guide and a "sentient spheroid with a heart of gold and a head full of lead!"
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
So there I was, watching myself looking fat and ugly on Awesomely Bad Celeb Fashion (look, it was on at the gym, ok?), and during a segment about the muumuu, it struck me. There, at the Monster in Law premiere, was Randy Quaid wearing a muumuu. And there, right above him, was Alexis Arquette glowering out from the movie poster. Except -- it wasn't Alexis Arquette! It was Jane Fonda!
At least, that's what it looked like at the gym. Maybe one's brain gets mushy when one ellipticals for too long.
HIP HIP HOORAY
HAS MADE MY DAY!
Sunday, October 02, 2005
In less tragic news, I turned on "word verification" in my comments thingie because I am getting rammed with spam, and I don't mean that in a sexual way.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Okay, it's no Hopkin, but I was quite taken with this poster for a kid's lost cat in Sevilla.
I tried to translate the text: "perro perdido rasa pasto aleman si lo encontreis llamar al: / si lo encotrais llamar al:" using Babelfish, but it gave me:
"lost dog strickles grass German if encontreis to call to: / if encotrais to call to:"
Him name is Strickles?
Also: killer dolphins on the loose!
As someone who does this sort of thing for a living, this recontextualization is not just tickling my fancy, it's stroking it into oblivion. Brillz!
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
So I was trolling Gawker and I noticed an ad for the new Cami Dee movie, "In Her Shoes.". (Warning: excessively annoying music on that website). And it suddenly smacked me whoomp-upside-the-head that Toni Collette in "In Her Shoes" is actually Tina Fey!
Toni is Tina?
Tina is Toni?
And this has NOTHING at all to do with Tony and Tina, makers of my very faveywaveyest type of glitter that I wear every single day? And, additionally: nothing to do with Tony and Tina's wedding, neither the musical nor the film??
Am I taking too many headache medicamations?
I don't know who the lovely people are who put my info up on tvtome and tv.com and the like, but, heck, I made it real slippery-slidy easy-like for you to get all the deets. Woo!
So everyday I walk past the new Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square -- and, lemme tell you, as a five-year veteran of working in Times Square, a new tourist trap is JUST what we need. Oh boy. Now it'll be even more annoying and frustrating to leave the office at lunchtime in search of vegan soup. Le sigh, le sigh. Anyhoo ... everytime I pass it, I can't help but chuckle at the posters they have up in the window.
Assumedly, one is supposed to read these posters as "I rock New York" -- ha ha, the Hard Rock rocks New York, I geddit, I geddit. But my brain always twitches a little bit and I interpret these posters as "I stoned New York."
Which, honestly, is a much more appealing tagline.
Upon further reflection (geddit? geddit?), I've realized this is actually a kinda neat photo. Or else it's just because I'm stuck at home today with a buggy and the cold medicine is making me trippy.
Hard Cock Cafe! BWA HA HA!
Me on the BBC? A dream come true! When I lived in London, I called Chris Evans' show once and won tickets to something because I recognized the quote "and the rowers keep on rowing" from Willy Wonka and he kept making me say "Wonka" because my American accent made it sound remarkably like "Wanker" to his ears. But now I have trumped my initial London radio appearance! HUZZAH!
Monday, September 26, 2005
Thanks to the always up-on-gay-penguin-news Towleroad for the tip!
2) Polyphonic Spree
(put 'em together and what do you get? Bibbity bobbity boo, and the Glove and Boots' puppetriffic video for one of my fave Polyphonic Spree songs, "Hold Me Now.")
3) Pickles, epecially of the Branston variety, because then you can make a
4) Ploughman's lunch which is my favey-waveyest meal right now, particularly if I were to enjoy it at a
5) Picnic, where I could frolic in a meadow, filled with the joy that comes around every autumn, when we're treated to oh-so-many
6) Premieres! Especially of the seasonal variety, but also of the Hollywood movie subgenre.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Sweet jebus. I got backlogged and didn't watch my beloved Battlestar Galactica for a week (it was on my tivo!) and we finally did a double donger and watched two weeks' worth of episodes tonight and OH NOOOOOO! The season finale? Already? I have to wait til January? Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Thank you, I just had to get that out of my system. Mildly titillating entires about tampons and vh1 shows (watch All Access:Awesomely Bad Celeb Fashion on October 3rd at 9pm!) to come.
Just remember, to is a preposition, come is a verb.