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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!
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.
Ladies and Gentlemyn, I give you the inimitable Lang Fisher as the holy Prophet Elijah at last night's seder. Please note both the Manischevitz helmet and also the handy-dandy helpful visual reference.
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.
So, here.
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.
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."
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.