It's a Panda! It's a Dog!

Heavens to Betsy, someone done gone and dyed their pooch to look like a panda.

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!

Bee Deedlybobbers, A Sword, A Jock Strap and Instructions on How to Become a Navy SEAL

orry for disappearing, kiddos. I'm in prepro for a mega massive shoot this Friday and, alas, I have no time for frivolity. But! Here's a quick hit of love for you:

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.

artifacts, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

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.

Trapped in the AWESOME

Om. my. stars. I love this so much.

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.

All Access: Celebrity Parties

Man, I didn't even know I shot this one.
Check it on out: All Access: Celebrity Parties premieres on VH1 tonight at 9pm, with a sneak peek at 5pm. I am tan, that's all I know.

Whatever Gets You Through The Night

picard, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

Sickypoo - No Show Tonight

So I have a whingding of a cold/sinusinfection mess. And there's a squirrel in my womb. And I don't think I'm going to do that show tonight. POOP POOP POOP!

Chicks and Giggles Tuesday Night

CHICKS AND GIGGLES
MO PITKINS
34 AVE. A (between 2nd and 3rd Streets)
7:30 PM
FREE!
chicks and giggles!

Here's your lineup:

Lianne Stokes
Mindy Raf
Susie Felber
Bex Schwartz
Amanda Melson
Becky Donohue
Leighann Lord

Getting Better All The Time

Okay, so I'm in a better mood. I love going to the gym on Wednesday nights and watching America's Next Top Model while I'm doing cardio -- nothing makes an hour go faster. And I totally dug on tonight's judging competition bits -- I actually laughed so hard during the impromptu commercial montage, I almost fell off the elliptical.

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.

For the Record

I am grumpy and cranky and in a horrible mood because lots of stuff sucks. BUT! For the record:


I love Harold Ramis, always and forever.

I STILL Want My Freezy Freakies!

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.

Blogger Blagg Salutes G.E. Smith

Thanks to my homez Whatevs for the tip -- I got a kick out of champagne and out of this wonderful ode to the magic that is G.E. Smith, entitled "G.E. Smith is Probably Rocking the Fuck Out Somewhere, Right Now."

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?

Dave Nabarro vs. Dave Navarro

With all this talk of a bird flu pandemic and Dr. Dave Nabarro getting all this talking-head time, I know everyone's getting confused: who's who?

And thus I present, a handy clip-and-save guide to Dave Nabarro vs. Dave Navarro.

Attend the Tale of Sweeney Todd

I'm psychedy-psyched because I'm going to see my good pal Michael on Saturday in the new Broadway production of Sweeney Todd. I've known Michael for aaaages and ages; we met through our mutual friend Ken, and I've seen him perform with his various bands a jillion times. I was so proud of him when Diddy handed him his Tony for "Assasins," and I'm so very excited to see him rock it as Sweeney. Especially because the NYT totally tripped out over the production.

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.

Back When the Presidency Was Still Majestic

So my roomie and I (and the kitties) just watched "Dave."

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!

Oliver Stone is Shooting in My Home Town

Crazy talk! El Stone is shooting his 9/11 movie in Glen Rock, and is apparently using Little Joe and John's barber shop as a location.

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.

Ceci N'est Pas un Penis

Ceci n'est pas un penis, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

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.

Happy November!

base of mountain, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Dig: foliage.

Suck it, LA!

Small Rock Invades VH1

mike and scrap, originally uploaded by starbexxx.

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:

Hootie.

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:
Chris
God bless man.
- Darius.

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?