Snurfle snurfle snurfle snurf snurf snurf

I am single and I have a lot of time on my hands. And apparently my new hobby is making sounds for animals that I think they ought to make. (You guys can stage an intervention at any point, really). So, in my head, I think that a goby fish climbing a waterfall would go "snurfle snurfle snurf snurf snurf!"



This one is for Joey who requested it after the mudskipper thing.

Mudskippers, Mudskippers, Fight Fight Fight!

This is how mudskippers fight.

Prisencolinensinainciusol

It is true that I can no longer get through the day without watching this.

Prisencolinen

sinainciusol

OLL RAIGH!




Great Scott. The backstory to Prisencolinensinainciusol is far greater than I ever imagined.

"Prisencolinensinainciusol" is a song composed by Adriano Celentano, and performed by Celentano and his wife, singer/actress-turned-record producer Claudia Mori. It was first released as a single on November 3, 1972, and later on his album Nostalrock. The lyrics are pure gibberish, often described as sounding like American English as heard by a non–English-speaker.

In an interview, Celentano explains that the song is about "incommunicability" because in modern times people are not able to communicate to each other anymore. He added the only word we need is prisencolinensinainciusol, which is supposed to stand for "universal love."

Celentano's rationale for the song was that, after releasing albums about ecology and social issues, "having just recorded an album of songs that meant something, I wanted to do something that meant nothing"

In modern times people are not able to communicate to each other anymore. Holy fucking shit, prisencolinensinainciusol. 


Also, can I get a what what for the fact that Celentano is also a vegetarian JUST LIKE ME?

... in which I Irrationally Want to Hurt a Character in a Commercial

This horrible horrible dreadful "don't talk to me until i've had my coffee" spot (for mcdonald's coffee! who is drinking mcdonald's coffee? No one who reads this blog, I can pretty much guarantee that) airs on VH1 all the time which means it is on the tv in my office every single day, drilling its way into my brain. And I have to say: I hate this character and also the actor who portrays him which such seething fury that if I ever encounter him in real life I will probably go all stabbytown on him.

Sux to Be You!

My dad has to spend 3 weeks a month in Sioux City. Did you know the airport code for Sioux City is SUX? They have a lot of gear about the SUX thing. This might be my favorite. It is horribly awfully wonderful.

edited to add: this one is also pretty horrible/fantastic.

Here There Be Bears

Remember when we learned that Arctic means BEARS HERE and Antarctic means NO BEARS HERE?
Some of us really like bears. So, here is a list of other things that have BEARS HERE.

Dentyne Ice Sugarless Gum, Arctic Chill

MotorStorm: Arctic Edge

Arctic Cooling Freezer 64 Pro Processor cooler

Power Wheels Arctic Cat Prowler

The North Face Women's Arctic Parka

Arctic Paws Salmon Bacon Soft N Chewy

Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not

 Arctic Splash Water Table

Einar's Arctic Freeze Hyper Hold Styling Gel

Arctic Air  Commercial Chest Freezer

Arctic Paws Omega MAINT Salmon Oil

If you buy these things, THERE WILL BE BEARS.
So, therefore, conversely, here is a list of things that DO NOT HAVE BEARS:

Antarctica Etah Eskimo Parka Byrd Expedition

Penguins Antarctic Emperor Penguin Cotton Tapestry Throw Blanket

Ice Scientist: Careers in the Frozen Antarctic

Antarctic Penguins Vinyl Shower Curtain

Those things will be boring and sans-bear, so do not buy them.

Happy Passover

This is what it says on the youtube thing:

Sometimes you have the world's worst sinus infection and you are going CRAZY with the pain and it hurts so much and you are taking all sorts of medicines and then at night when you try to go to sleep, this starts happening in your brain and also: happy passover.

And, honestly, I'm not like, totally insane, it's just that this sort of thing has been happening in my head because it hurts so much so I decided to exorcise the demon, so to speak, by just making the damn thing. Also, did I mention that I have the world's worst sinus infection? So i am stuffy. And in SO MUCH PAIN. I wish I could drill two holes, one under each eye, and put little buckets there like they do in Vermont to collect the maple syrup. Anyway. It's my Happy Passover card to you! Happy Passover.

I Love This So Much

This is the only thing getting me through the day. I am about to leave the office and go see my sinus specialist. She wears patterned tights. Last time I saw her, she raped my nose. She brought out this 3 foot snake thing and said she was going to put "just the tip" in my nose, and instead she totally raped my face. RAPED IN THE FACE. With an endoscope. Not really rape. Shut up, I am in so much pain. But you should watch this. It is joyous.


But -- this. THIS. This is the greatest thing I have ever seen.

via @JohnRoderick (thanks, Jrod!)

Chat Roulette Win!

Chat Roulette Win! This live piano-improv-song-as-commentary-whilst-chat-rouletting makes me happy like Jonathan Coulton's song about Flickr makes me laugh or like Stuckey and Murray's "Dramatic Song at the End of the TV Show" song makes me laugh. Also, I took some serious pain killers because I frakked up my back so maybe everything is just more funny than usual. And then I was walking back to my office from my mix and a pigeon flew into my hair and now I probably have bubonic plague.

Note: Chat Roulette Win because I only tried to Chat Roulette once and Lindsay and I put on costumes and then my camera on my laptop didn't work and it was so sad and was decidedly a Chat Roulette Fail... but if this guy Merton ever chat-roulette-sang to me, I would totally sing back.

oh! credit to @TheSquare!

YOU GOT CATTED!

The greatest thing in the world has happened. Somehow, overnight, someone, or someTHING, mysteriously decorated Scott’s cubicle with carefully chosen and artistically arranged photos of adorable, adorable kittens. They didn’t leave a note. They didn’t sign any of the photos or leave any sort of clue to indicate their intentions. All we know is a mysterious and anonymous person or smoke monster waited until everyone else left the office and then DECORATED SCOTT’S CUBICLE WITH ADORABLE KITTENS.
Is this a thing? Are people doing this around the office?
Because if it’s not officially a thing, can we make it a thing? When I first saw Scott’s cubicle I was like, “Dude, you got catted!”

I propose that we start catting people.

You can cat me next. I'm on the 21st floor.

... Which brings us to the theory of Continental Drift

In re: today's news that the earthquake in Chile moved the entire city of Concepcion ten feet to the west, perhaps one is thinking of Berkeley Breathed's prescience back in 1983 when he noted that the Earth sometimes quakes and shakes to realign America's political leanings. Here's hoping that quake in Turkey last night took us back to the left.

Where's the bear? He's the bear in sloungewear!

This is probably my favorite thing ever:

VH1 TV Shows | Music Videos | Celebrity Photos | News & Gossip

Fantasia for Real image spots on the other bloggy

I forgot to do it a million years ago before I went to Thailand, but I uploaded the Fantasia For Real image spots to the blog-about-things-that-i-direct.

I LOVE BEARS.

I love bears. Please, a bear, please hug me like this. (photo via my dad's facebook page and I have no idea why; I truly hope the girl in this photo is his cousin or something).

The Only Time I Will Ever Appear in the New Yorker

Woohoo!

The Greek word Arktos, meaning “bear”, is the origin of the word Arctic. Antarctica means “no bears."

How did I never know this? Isn't this one of those awesomesauce facts they teach you in elementary school to convince you that learning is fun-damental? Thank the stars I felt compelled to check and see if the Central Park Zoo has polar bears -- it does. I am going to go visit them as soon as possible. Polar bears!

From their website:

Polar Bear (Ursus Maritimus)

Zoo collection includes: Gus and Ida, both born in late 1985 at a facility in Buffalo, New York. They have been at the Central Park Zoo since it opened in August of 1988 and are two of its biggest stars.

Found in the wild: Along the coasts and inland streams and lakes of Alaska and Canada, Greenland, Norway and Siberia. The Greek word Arktos, meaning “bear”, is the origin of the Arctic name. Antarctica means “no bears”, so do not believe those commercials that feature a polar bear and a penguin together. It just isn’t true, they live on opposite ends of the earth.

The more you know! DING. Antarctica means NO BEARS. Honestly? Screw you, Antarctica. I love me some bears. I LOVE BEARS.

Tribal Council Song

I sing this song when I watch Survivor! Usually I sing it in my head. But I decided to sing it out loud, because, heck, I can either be FULL OF RAGE or FULL OF DOING THINGS. So I am doing things. Despite their stupidity. If you watch Survivor with me, we can sing it together.

Lutzing Into Enternity

In honor of tonight's Opening Ceremonies (I am an uber-dork about the Winter Olympics), I thought it would be nice to reprint an article I wrote in 1997, when the Nagano Olympics were mere moments away.

Lutzing Into Eternity

----------------------------------------

Our candidate for Slovenia's next national hero.

by Becky Schwartz
 
      Michelle Kwan started skating at age five after watching her brother practice hockey. When Tara Lipinski was three, her mom took her to a roller rink for a free Care Bears giveaway and thus was born a gold-medal career. Nicole Bobek turned to skating at age three after first pursuing professional gymnastics, ballet and modern dance. These lovely ladies of figure skating made it to the Olympics. I'm nineteen. My brother doesn't play hockey. My mom hates the Care Bears. And I can't even do a cartwheel. To hell with the odds­! I'm going to be an Olympic figure skater. I've sent letters to eight governments of foreign countries. Next stop: Nagano, Japan. (See below.)
Monday, December 22: Today I start training. I've heard that professional skaters get up before dawn to get valuable hours of rink time. No problem. It's 11:30 and I'm off to a vigorous workout. Downstairs. With Jake, as in "Body By." We work the abs and pecs. Michelle skates for six hours a day, but since I've just started, I think I'll take a nap instead. Because there is no ice rink nearby, and I don't know how to skate anyway, I've decided that my kitchen makes an acceptable substitute.
Saturday, December 27: Watched eight hours of figure skating on TV. Bushed.
Sunday, December 28: Completed a rigorous eighteen-hour marathon of figure skating. Dilemma: Discover Stars on Ice and Battle of the Sexes are on at the same time. Solution: Flip between the two, don't watch the instant replays and change channels whenever Verne Lundquist analyzes style.
Tuesday, December 30: Time to kick it into high gear. Can finally distinguish the jumps -- ­ you have to face forward for a lutz and backward for an axel. Not sure about the toe loops. The Salchow is, I think, a toe loop with an extra elbow wobble. Might need to research that. From the Recreational Figure Skating FAQ archive: "The Salchow starts from an 'open' LFO 3-turn followed by a strong check on the LBI edge. Leaving your hip open will extend your free leg behind you in the direction of travel. As the skating leg rises after the check, the free leg and shoulders are released (swung around) and the skater jumps, landing on a RBO edge after one rotation." No problem.
Monday, January 5: Salchowed my hips into an acute attack of bursitis. Out of commission for a few days.
Thursday, January 8: Nailed the camel spin for the first time. What a way to start '98. Looks like this just might be the year of the Schwartz. According to the Skating Archive, when executing the camel spin, "The upper body should be pushed, forced counterclockwise, as you are moving your arm. You can get a fast spin without a lot of speed on entry if you coordinate the body well, but speed on entry doesn't hurt either." If I push off from the refrigerator and avoid careening into the stove, I can complete a full rotation. The speed-on-entry phenomenon is a little difficult to master, but I know that with practice I'll get it. The Hamill Camel, pioneered by hairstyle goddess Dorothy Hamill, involves rotating your torso to achieve different angles. Dorothy didn't have any breasts. Damn.
Saturday, January 10: Fourteen more hours of skating-viewing under the belt. Still haven't hit the ice. Keeping in shape, though. According to the Skater's Fitness Guide, my objectives are: to improve strength, endurance and flexibility; to improve difficulty of jumps performed towards the end of the free program; to lose fat; and to avoid injury.
Sunday, January 11: Avoiding injury, I narrowly escaped a collision with the back door after the cat's waterbowl interfered with my death spiral. Note to self: very difficult to complete a death spiral without a partner, but if you hold onto a towel rack it gets easier. I'm practicing on the kitchen floor. If you rub your feet with butter, you get the same effect. Fun fact: Midori Ito, gold medalist, once jumped over the guardrail and into the camera pit. She still took fourth. Still haven't heard back as to whether I've made the team.
Wednesday, January 14: The lutz is when you stick your foot out and the axel is when you pull it in. Or vice versa. Not sure. Lutzed down the driveway and into a snowdrift. Axeled through the 7-11. Not allowed back. No problem. Good skaters don't eat Slurpees at 3 am, so I won't either. Good skaters also have coaches and a pair of ice skates, but these are only minor setbacks.
Saturday, January 17: More skating on TV. Michelle Kwan steals the gold at the Worlds! Tara was crushed. I think she's better athletically, but Michelle's got the grace and elegance. I think the problem is that Tara looks like an elf and the judges really went for Michelle's sexy Pocahontas number. I've seen each of their routines nineteen times now. My directing teacher says that the best way to learn how to direct is to steal from other people, so I'm following that advice and incorporating aspects of their performances into my own choreography. That triple axel/­triple toe loop combo is a bitch. Time to jack up those leg lifts.
Wednesday January 21: Still haven't heard from any countries and Nagano is getting closer and closer. Finished choreographing today. I'm the first American woman to land a quadruple! A quadruple is when you spin four times in the air and then land. I can spin four times in the air; I just have to jump between each spin. On the way to the gold. Practicing victory speeches: "This is going out to all the oppressed people of my country who sacrificed so much to get me here." "This is so corny."
Friday, January 23: I asked Eric [Ducker, co-editor of GRAIL] to take out the competition and bitch slap Chen Lu. He said no. Damn. Triple lutzed into the power table at the café. The leotard should cover the bruise.
Sunday, January 25: Not sure if this Olympic dream is happening. No problem. Couldn't take the Intro to Skating course because it overlaps with my religion class. The end of the world vs. sequins and tights. Maybe I can wear the outfit to class? Haven't gotten on the ice yet, but I wiped out in the backyard.
Wednesday, January 28: Andrus Field is frozen over, so I taped rulers to the bottom of my shoes and hit the rink. The rulers broke, and I think I may have bruised a rib. Tried calling Slovenia but couldn't get connected. I'm thinking that my original routine might be a little lacking in the presentation department­thinking of choreographing to some new, avant-garde composition by someone in the Newsonic Concert Series. Maybe I could commission something along the lines of, "Experimental Music by Which to Win the Gold and Capture America's Collective Heart and Get Your Face on a Wheaties Box."
Sunday, February 1: Don't think I'm going to Nagano after all. No one's come through and I'm pretty swamped. I'll give them two more days, and if I don't get any offers, I'll give up. Still haven't mastered the one foot figure eight. For that matter, still haven't mastered skating. Which reminds me­ -- still haven't gotten on the ice.

36 Songs Using the Same 4 Chords

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

It will probably come as no surprise to you to learn that these are my FAVORITE 4 CHORDS.

So, if you would ever like to write a song for me, odds are really good I'll like it a whole lot if it uses this chord progression.

Fuck that Man's Last Stand bullshit

That Dodge Charger spot in the superbowl about how hard it to be a man so you deserve a fucking sports car made me soooooooo angry! Seriously? It's soooooo difficult to be a man and to get along with your partner and share responsibilities? And I am just in an angry place. Call me kneejerk, but I made an instant slapdash dirty response.

The original:


My reaction:

This Thing Looks Like That Thing

I say this with the utmost of affection and admiration because I think Nick Kroll is just a fantastically amazingly funny person, but I was watching RuPaul's Drag Race and the man-who-plays-Tatiana looks so much like Nick Kroll that for a second I thought it was. And if it's not, then think of the fun they can have making videos together.

Although Tatiana does not look like Nick Kroll. Just in case you were wondering.

Walrus Hats

You know, when you're crossing the north pole with a curtain rod and an old duck, you need to stay warm. You might need to wear a walrus hat. This means nothing to you but I am tremendously entertained by it.

Parents of Awesome

I forgot that I submitted this, but look, here is official internet proof that my parents were awesome (note: my dad is still very awesome).

When my dad sent this to me, he captioned it "newlyweds," which means that they were both a whole lot younger when this photo was taken than I will ever be.

note: mom was the awesomest, too.

The Goat That Says What

Thanks to @JoshFrench, this has basically made this Monday afternoon the greatest Monday afternoon of all time (after jurorcat, and all).

I'm on a list!

Today I am happy like a cat! Or like a blue catperson who lives in a glowy, glowy world full of magical beasts with which one can communicate by plugging one's hair into their genitalia-like regions! Look, there's little ol' (not-blue, not-catperson) me (@starbex) on this list of terrific tweets! Mothersmusher!

And also. Here is a photo of a monk using an ATM!

And here is that slapchop infomercial turned into a rap.

For the Person Who Has Everything

via Catbird. Tumblr., one of those things that you see and you're like "this is so obvious and perfect, why have I never seen this before?"

The Greatest Thing on the Internets Today

A VH1 reality show bus overturns, "spilling more than 2,000 lbs. of slut" onto the interstate. The Onion reports: (via @vultureblog)


VH1 Reality Show Bus Crashes In California Causing Major Slut Spill

Photos from Thailand and Laos

I done went traveling! If you're at all interested in looking at hundreds of photos of Thailand and Laos (and who wouldn't be?), go to my shutterfly site!

Deception Pass!

I am trying to make "Deception Pass" happen. To be used when you've been hoodwinked, swindled, shock 'n' awed, bamboozled, cheated, lied to, or generally psyched out.

The actual Deception Pass is a strait of water between Whidbey Island (not really an island! or something. I am still confused.  DECEPTION PASS!) and Fidalgo Island in Washington, somewhere outside of Seattle (someone else was driving).  Look at this bridge spanning Deception Pass! There ought to be Lost Boys dangling from it, or Sparklevamps playing superbaseball or something.

Anyway, the point being that "Deception Pass" is very fun to say! Like "Man, the sign at Tailor said the kitchen was re-opening in September and now the chef's gone and they will never serve me deliciously weird food ever again." DECEPTION PASS!

Or, you know, like "That boy said he was going to call me and then he NEVER CALLED! Deception Pass!"

Or "I think my boyfriend is cheating on me and lying about it. DECEPTION PASS!"

Or even "Those morningstar corndogs are NOT actually vegan! DECEPTION PASS!"

Use it three times and its yours! Go forth and make it happen. (Please? For me?)

Cyndi Lauper Dressed as a Kitty (with Anne Boleyn and a Time Bandit)

Bustin' Makes Me Feel Good

I had the sads but then I watched this and now I have the happies:



(via Videogum)

"I Know Where the Red Fern Grows" - a poem, by Maya Angelou.

"Where the Red Fern Grows" came up last night and just this afternoon. I don't need to explain it, because you get it -- you remember: dogs, coons (as in actual raccoons), mountain lion, dog heartbreak, red fern. You cried a lot when you read it. Sometimes you are in a lot of pain due to a herniated disc in your neck and these things start to happen:

and then, of course, this eventually happens:

You're welcome.

It's not really depression if you still wash your hair, right?

I'm depressed. But, I washed my hair! People on tv who are depressed never wash their hair. Ergo, I'm not really depressed, right?

Man. I looked for photos to prove this theory but the internet is no help when it comes to google-imaging "depressed tv characters with unwashed hair." Bummers.

Bex Directs

I made a blog to showcase stuff that I directed (hire me, hint hint, hint hint). I could have been trendy and used tumblr but I decided to go super retro old-school and rock the blogger. So!

Please tell everyone you know.

http://bexdirects.blogspot.com/

The Best Fork in the World

This is what I think whenever I'm in a museum and they have silverware on display. And then I laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.

Hey Ladies!

My Favorite Headline Ever

Brett Gelman's VH1 ad with Paula Abdul funnier than anything during MTV's VMAs

(Thanks, Sean!)

Paula Abdul Hosts Divas (the :45 version)

VH1 TV Shows | Music Videos | Celebrity Photos | News & Gossip

Paula Abdul Got Her VH1 Divas Hosting Gig At An Employment Agency"

VH1 TV Shows | Music Videos | Celebrity Photos | News & Gossip

Tee Shirt of the Day

Yakety Yak, Take it Back

Extensive research into MC Skat Kat reveals he was "launched into the mainstream years later when he appeared in a public service announcement titled "Take it Back", where he sang the title song about recycling." Apparently, I missed this stratospheric launch (it occurred in 1991, so I was probably prepping for my bat mitzvah) but happily, youtube is always there to fill in the gaps in my pop cultural knowledge. Observe:


I wish the audio were better because I can't hear most of the lyrics, but a few notes:

This is ostensibly a PSA for kids:
1) threatening that if you don't recycle, Ozzy will stop rocking (that is some real guilt-inducing shit right there)
2) the PSA stages a protest against "city hall" demanding that you call the government and complain that they are not recycling (or something? the audio is futzy here, but, egads, in the early 90s, Hollywood was basically demanding the youth of America stage a town hall)
3) Barry White
4) Who went home and did it after this shoot? Bette and Ozzy, right?
5) Perhaps you would like to buy this for me?

The World's Best Photo in the History of the World, Ever

You guys, this is the greatest picture in the history of forever.


The man in the pink hat carried a watermelon!
The man in the pink shirt carries bananas!
The man in the middle is perhaps a mime, or perhaps developmentally disabled! I just can't tell! Mime or mildly retarded? This could be a hot new party game. Or a blog-to-bookdeal situation. Here, I'll start: this is a new blog called Mime or Retarded? More to come!

Also! Watermelon Man is wearing a giant diamond ring on his right ring finger, and we all know that Right Hand Rings are for women who know they're never going to get married but they still feel like they deserve a conflict diamond, so they buy themselves a Right Hand Ring because nothing says "I am an independent woman" like buying oneself a gemstone that was probably sold to DeBeers by a warlord. Nice! But why is Watermelon Man wearing one?

And why is Banana Man wearing a shirt that says "We do the blues?" And why are Possible Mime / Possible Buddy With perhaps a Touch of Something Off's pants so high and so tight? And what is in his sandwich? Is he eating a ketchup sandwich? Eating a ketchup sandwich points to mild retardation.

Unless he is eating a watermelon and banana sandwich? Is that what all of this means? Mime/Possibly A little Retarded guy is being "sandwiched" by Watermelon Man and Banana Man. Thus, Mime/P.A.L.R guy is the filling between the white bread! Watermelon Man and Banana Man are the bread and Mime/P.A.L.R. guy is the sandwich filling, figuratively, but he is eating a sandwich that is a literal representation of the metaphorical sandwich! This is like a living, breathing metaphor-analogy, like when they have that Living Chess Game at the Renaissance Faire.

We found this photo by google-image-searching "Mr. Dithers" because wouldn't Mr. Dithers make a great tattoo for someone who was dithering about what tattoo to get? And then, this photo happened, because it was posted on someone's Myspace page, and that someone was named Mr. Dithers. I logged into myspace for the first time in like 12 years to ping the guy who posted the photo and find out the story of the the World's Best Photo in the History of the World, Ever, but, alas, I have not gotten a response. So, dear internet, I turn to you: who are these people? Where are they? And what is happening? Internetters, you are my only hope.

UPDATE:
Meredith Mo was the first awesomeperson of awesomeness to ring in with an actual, verifiable answer: the guy in the middle is Rik Mayall of "Young Ones," "Blackadder" and "Drop Dead Fred" fame. Here's his IMDB page . Then I did some more sleuthing and found this exact photo on this guy's "Hall of Fame" gallery of photos of himself with famous people! The caption reads "Ky, Rik Mayall & Jim Hoffman working on movie "Drop Dead Fred" -- Ky is, apparently, "The Rocketman", although I will continue to refer to him as Watermelon Man. Which means Bananas Man is Jim Hoffman, although IMDB turns up only one Jim Hoffman -- but he didn't work on "Drop Dead Fred." Hmmm.

Actually, even though this photo is no longer all that mysterious, I think it's just as weird. Weirder, perhaps.

Hear Me Roar! Benefit for Sylvia's Place

You guys! I am MC'ing a wonderful benefit this THURSDAY, August 20th!

It's at 6pm at the Bowery Poetry Club - 308 Bowery. Please do come!



It is estimated that close to 40% of the 20,000 runaway and homeless youth in New York identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender (LGBT). These young people often face violence and discrimination from service providers and peers, when attempting to access support. While LGBT specific resources have been shown to effectively help youth create a healthy path to independence, the few existing programs have faced tremendous budget cuts due to the economic downturn. For this reason, now is a particularly critical time to give voice to this cause.

Together with author and activist, Emanuel Xavier, The Hear Me ROAR! Project is hosting a fundraiser to support our work with MCCNY-Homeless Youth Services/ Sylvia's Place, honoring the voices of LGBT homeless youth.

A suggested $15 minimum donation will include:

PERFORMANCES BY

Village Voice columnist, Michael Musto
Poet and author, Emanuel Xavier
Club/electro/punk musicians, Air Kiss on Mars
Poet, Chip Livingston
Percussion/Dance ensemble, Segunda Quimbamba
Spoken word artist, Simply Rob.

Mistress of Ceremonies: VH1 Comedian, Bex Schwartz

PRIZES FOR RAFFLE featuring donated items.


This event is kindly sponsored by NEXT magazine
The Estee Lauder Companies, Inc.
Sara’s Gracious Goodies
Fred Marcus Photography
Hot Blondies Bakery
Dickhouse Entertainment
Bekka NYC
Fragrancenet.com
Emily Drazen Photography
Shaw Family Archives
Hirsch Vineyards
Backboneandwingspan.com: Pilates for Posture and Spinal Support



The Hear Me ROAR! Project uses artistic expression to raise awareness and funding for LGBTQ youth services in New York. We are currently partnered with Sylvia's Place, a 24-hour emergency shelter, to document the experiences of LGBTQ young people on the street.



For more information about MCCNY-Homeless Youth Services/ Sylvia's Place, please visit www.homelessyouthservices.org

Glitter Puke

Hey you guys! The Beatles: Rock Band facebook page hit 10k followers today, and some of us announced we would puke glitter and dance on tabletops if that happened. My tummy is in bad shape so I'm not about to dance on tabletops, but, look:


Glitter Graphics

This Bird Likes Rock Band

I am relatively certain that this video is why the internet exists:


I like Rock Band, too. Especially The Beatles: Rock Band.

For What It's Worth

For what it's worth, you guys, in case you were also born in the late 70s and grew up thinking that the song about "Stop, children, what's that sound, everybody look what's going down" was about hunters trying to shoot woodland creatures, that song is NOT ACTUALLY ABOUT TRYING TO SHOOT WOODLAND CREATURES.

However, it is still difficult to convince my brain otherwise.


PS: Pun intended, obvs.

Ha! I Kill Me.

My brother Adam and I met ALF. I'm pretty sure this was around 1987. It was definitely 7:16, at least according to my giant watch.

The VH1 Mobile Site -- Have More Fun With Your Phone!

Fun with greenscreen and stock footage! Typically, I wouldn't post a vh1 spot on the internets, but the level of sillyness in this spot tickles me pink. Or green. Greenscreen. Also, I play (the voice of) a panda in it. PANDA. So, uh, to make this relativistically kosher, if you watch the spot, then you have to go to the vh1 mobile site on your smartypants phone. M.vh1.com on your phone, yo.

Oh, credits:
I wrote and directed it.
Amber Harris produced it.
Sound fx genius = Matt Richman
Flame awesomeness = Mark Bernardo
Smoke tracking/comping perfection, moon embossing and skywriting: Dale Boyce, Creative Group

Panda on Pony Action

This is Not Funny At All, but My Love for Open-Source Makes my Heart Swell

Perhaps my favorite incident of wiki-vandalism ever.

Extraspecial thanks to The Square and its respective twitterer.

Comic Sans, You Scourge

The other day I said something on Twitter (eek, can't use the word 'tweeted,' I just can't) like: "If you send me an email written in comic sans, I get to make fun of you and it for 4 years."

Michelle Collins, ladies and gentlemen, is pure twitpic win:

The Jurassic Park Dinosaurs Say Heeeey

My co-workers are always entertained when they hear me chortling from my office. Today's culprit? "The Jurassic Park Dinosaurs Say Hey," courtesy of Lindsay'n'Gabe over at the Videogum.



This is really stupid but just so very wonderful.

The Bret Michaels at the Tonys / Gyromite Mashup You've Been Waiting For

So I haven't been sleeping? But I took a sleeping pill last night and it didn't work. But I don't remember a few hours. Apparently, I made this. It is the most wonderfully stupid thing ever created on i-movie, ever.

The Best Tony's Moment EVER OF ALL TIME

Oh, man. I can't stop watching Bret Michaels getting whomped in the head by Tony's scenery. I've watched it so many times I had to loop it:



Extra special thanks to the lovely Lady Joselyn Hughes at the Tosh.0 blog for titling this clip "Bonk of Love" and encouraging it to go all H1N1 (get it? viral? three weeks ago? sorry).

Anthony Bourdain = Sydney Earle Chaplin

OMGeebers, you guys, I think my tv boyfriend Tony Bourdain is actually Sydney Earle Chaplin. I saw it on the Tonys; I am pretty sure it's true.

The Beatles: Rock Band

If the trailer for The Beatles: Rock Band doesn't give you goosebumps, we're probably not going to remain friends.

I mean, seriously: greatest game ever, y/y? 09.09.09 can't come soon enough.

you should watch it on the official site, because there's a rip on youtube that's fuzzy and shitty, so just go here instead.

Edited to add: legit game trailer embed:

Dear Ryan Murphy; Please Hire Me

Because I sort of feel like everything would be better were I working for GLEE. Oh, GLEE. You will so very much totally be my new favorite show this fall. Especially if you continue to do things like this:


Full disclosure: sure, Don't Stop Believing is mad over-exposed and over-used, son, (as per Uncle Grambo over at Vulture), but that still doesn't stop me from dropping to my knees to interpretative-dance it at weddings.

And sure, there are clearly 20 people singing even though we see 5 members of the Glee Club on stage, and sure, it's RIDICK when the Zac Efron jock guy plays the drums and then hands off the drumsticks and the drums keep playing, but, frak it: this show has Jane Lynch saying things like "your resentment is delicious" and it features cheerleaders who are so Bring-it-On-y that they're wearing the EXACT SAME CHEERLEADING OUTFITS as the Toros, and the writing is pretty damnfine good in a this-is-smarter-than-your-typical-hour-long-drama-about-singing-teen-dreams way and Ryan Murphy et al. are sort of awesomely being straight up about high school life, and luckily people only burst into song when they're practicing or auditioning (to "On My Own," no less) or in fantasy scenes, and seriously, when the kid in the wheelchair plays that guitar solo, isn't it wonderful?

We Passed the Hash Pipe and Played our Doors Tapes

I was so thoroughly charmed and delighted by SNL's season-ending grand finale "Goodnight Saigon" humgdinging ding-dong of a sketch (thank you hugs'n'kisses to the always wonderful Videogum):



Maybe it's because there is nothing I love more than a star-studded finale, or maybe it's because I am consistently enamored with earnestness, or maybe it's because I remember being on a family trip driving through California and listening to that "Billy Joel Greatest Hits Volumes 1 and 2" mondo cassette and eagerly anticipating each time "Goodnight Saigon" would finally come on, right after "Allentown" (where our fathers fought the second world war; spent their weekends at the jersey shore) because, at age 12, I had just figured out what it was, like, really about man, or maybe it's because we kept that cassette in the station wagon and once my mom was doing errands and sort of half-listening to it and when the opening helicopter-noises from that song came on, she pulled over in a fright that she had blown a tire and then drove to the gas station so that Jack the mechanic could check her tires and tell her that, no, she didn't have a flat tire, it was just those helicopter noises from the beginning of "Goodnight Saigon" or maybe it's just the way Ferrell plays those maracas at the top.

Either way, I love this so much that I want to put a ring on it. And also, um, sort of maybe I kind of want to own the Billy Joel's Greatest Hits Volumes 1 and 2 mondo-cassette again. Remember that swelling chorus in "THe Night is Still Young?" I sure do.

For Mom

I know, this blog is supposed to be about pop culture and stuff like that, and it will revert back to its normal levels of observational snarkitude shortly, but I just wanted to put this on the internets. This is the eulogy I delivered at my mom's funeral:

I want to start off by reciting my mom’s favorite poem: “Comment,” by Dorothy Parker. I think my mom was a sort of modern-day Dorothy Parker – they shared the same biting wit and dizzying intellect; short, fashionable haircut; and love of words, and my mom taught me this poem when I was just a little girl and had no absolutely no idea what it meant:
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am the Queen of Romania.

And I just have this perfect image of her pausing dramatically while delivering that last line “ and I … am … the Queen ... of Romania.” The line was really “Marie of Romania” but my mom would always alter it and say “the queen of Romania,” but either way, it summed up my mom’s philosophy and also allowed her to use the word extemporanea, in everyday speech.

My mom’s vocabulary was blistering and she was the most clever and eloquent person I’ve ever met. My mom loved to talk – to anyone and everyone -- my mom could charm and fascinate absolutely everyone. No one worked a room like my mom. She was a champion schmoozer, and everytime I’m at a cocktail party or some sort of crowded event, I always find myself turning into my mother.

When you’re younger, you’re always so terrified of growing up and turning into your mom, but I think I’m more terrified of not turning out to be exactly like her. It’s true, we have the same dimples, and we both talk with our hands, and we share a love of cheap wine and shopping at Loehmann’s. My mom loved her chardonnay and she loved buying Carole Little suits at deep discounts. She always said that was the 11th commandment: thou shalt never pay retail. And when I was younger, I was always sort of slightly embarrassed that my mom would get a little tipsy at weddings and bar mitzvahs and insist on doing the bump with her patented “doing the bump face” which sort of involved looking surprised and saucy at the same time, while bumping hips with someone, often a gay man, -- and she would always find a man to dance with her if “Proud Mary” or “Old Time Rock ‘n’ Roll” came on and my dad didn’t want to dance – and I was telling my best friend Noah about how that used to embarrass me and he said “but that is EXACTLY what you do every time you go out dancing.” So, maybe I’m on my way to beginning to start to approach the sheer awesomeness and amazingness that is my mom.

And as I’ve gotten older and my mom and I have gotten closer, our relationship changed from purely mother-daughter to just being really good friends. My mom always said that to my boyfriend John – that she was so proud that it wasn’t just that Adam and I were her children, Adam and I were her friends. And, it’s so true. We could talk about anything. I could call her any time of day or night with any sort of problem and she would talk me down off the ledge and listen to anything I had to say, and she always had the perfect solution or advice or suggestion. And she would do that for anyone – my mom would have marathon phone conversations with all her friends. My dad would say, “How can you have anything left to say? You just talked to her yesterday!” and still, she could talk to Cheryl or Sherry or Karen or Eileen or David or Sherry or Terry until it was time to switch on the local news and watch the weather. She insisted on watching the weather every night, and I can’t fall asleep unless I know what it’s going to be like outside tomorrow.

Mom was so dazzlingly bright – her mind worked so fast, it’s a wonder the rest of us could keep up. She was the master of puns, you might say the ultimate cunning linguist. And she was fiercely irreverent and would have been thrilled I just dropped that pun in front of a rabbi. During the last two weeks, she lost her voice and was only able to talk in a whisper. But that didn’t keep her from being as sarcastic and witty as ever, even if we had to strain to hear her. And even while undergoing really intense and aggressive treatment, her brain was as sharp as ever. She was so, so proud of her children and she remembered every details we ever told her about everything in our lives. She was so thrilled that Adam followed her footsteps into publishing, and I know that she watched every single show I ever appeared in, no matter how trashy, and everything I ever directed, even when I was in college and it was pretty pretentious. The highpoint of my career was when my mom appeared in the tv show I was directing as a character called Renee Paper Mache, sort of like a Cynthia Plaster Caster, but with noses – and all my bosses agreed that she was the best part of the entire production.

When my mom first got sick, I talked to some of my friends about when it was time to have “the conversation” – as in, the conversation where you tell your mom how much you love her and how much she means to you and how she is responsible for everything good and wonderful in your life. I wasn’t sure, because I didn’t want to be maudlin and I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or make it seem like I was scared she was going to die. And I thought, we all thought, that we had so much more time with her. She went so quickly, that I think all of us are in shock and dazed and confused. And I held her hand and we said goodbye and told her how much we loved her but I never got to have the actual talk with her, and this is what I wanted to say:

Mom – I don’t know how I’m going to live without you. You are my rock, my guiding star, my beacon of sense and strength and power and love. You are such a powerful woman, and such an amazing role model, and I wish I could be even half as good of a person as you are. You are a truly good, decent, wonderful person who genuinely wants other people to be happy, and your commitment to doing good things in the world and telling everyone about the good things that other people are doing is so inspirational. I hope that someday I can be as good of a person as you are. Thank you so much for making me laugh, for cheering me up, for believing in me no matter what. When the mean kids in grade school made fun of me, thank you for encouraging me to fight back simply by being smarter than they were and helping me write parodies of all their favorite songs. When I took to my bed because I didn’t get into Brown, thank you for pulling me back out and telling me that Wesleyan was a better place for me to go anyway. Thank you for nursing me through mono, and a tonsillectomy at age 17 by reading to me from Winnie the Pooh and the Very Blustery Day in your special Winnie-the-Pooh reading voice. Thank you for not freaking out when I went vegetarian, when I pierced my nose, and when I got a tattoo. Thank you for making every one of my friends feel like they were part of the family.

When I was at Camp Ramah and I was sooo homesick that I cried every single day, thank you for breaking the rules and sneaking into camp with the temple’s prospective parents groups - I’ll never ever forget that moment when we were all sitting on the A-side field and I was sad and homesick and crying and someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around and you were suddenly standing there right in front of me, even though you knew you could get in trouble for it because you were supposed to stay in the van. Thank you for introducing me to the magic of the vodka gimlet – dirty rocks on the side. Thank you for teaching me how to be a powerful, intelligent woman who can walk into a room of strangers and leave with 20 new friends. Thank you for loving my dad so much, and showing me what it’s like to be best friends with your spouse. Thank you for staying together for 37 years of marriage and showing me what a real relationship looks like. Thank you for teaching me how to make fried matzah (perhaps the only dish you truly mastered). Thank you for showing me how to be fiercely loyal to everyone you love. Thank you for the love of show tunes, Barbra Streisand, and Judy Collins. I’m so sorry that when I was six and playing Monopoly with dad and he landed on Boardwalk that I stomped away and scratched the record right when Barbra was singing your favorite line of Send in the Clowns. Thank you for teaching me how to do the twist using a bath towel as an educational tool.

Thank you for being the most amazing woman any of us will ever know, and the most wonderful and perfect mother. Mom, I love you so much. When my Zaydee Hal passed away, I remember my mom sitting on the couch and saying she was so sad and that the worst part was, she just wanted to talk to my grandfather so he could cheer her up. Whenever anything hard or bad or scary happens in my life, I call my mom. And now I know exactly what she meant – right now, things are so hard and bad and scary that I just want to call my mom. But instead, I know that she taught me enough that I can look inside myself and find exactly what she would tell me to get me through this:

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am the Queen of Romania.

So here’s to my mom, The Queen of Romania.

Doo Wah Diddy

I Miss My Mom

Leslie F. Schwartz -- raconteur, wit extraordinaire, and beloved wife and mother-passed away on Wednesday, April 29, 2009. Leslie graduated from Poughkeepsie High School, class of 1968, and Barnard College, class of 1972, where she met her future husband, Robert Schwartz. Leslie had a keen gift for bringing good to the world; she could make anyone laugh and she spent her life striving to bring awareness to those doing their best to end others' suffering. After college, Leslie started her career at Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich. Her love of the written word led to her award-winning column in the Ridgewood News called "Suburban Supermom" which distilled the daily trials and tribulation of life in the suburbs into nuggets of wit and sarcastic wisdom. She then chose a life of service - first as Director of the Office of Public Information for Bergern County, then as the Director of Public Relations of Bergen Region Medical Center, and later working in the publicity departments of Mount Sinai, and the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. Leslie was drawn to Mount Sinai after watching how well they took care of her father, Harold Fleisher, and returned to work for the hospital after a stint in the realm of general healthcare P.R. left her wanting to do more for doctors who served people in need. Leslie is best remembered for her razor-sharp wit, her commitment to serving anyone who lacked a voice, and for her strength and power and unwavering spirit. Leslie passed away comfortably after battling lung cancer, leaving behind her husband, Robert Schwartz, and her two children, Bex and Adam, all of whom credit her everlasting sense of humor and love of humanity for their own outlooks on life. Leslie also leaves her siblings, David Fleisher and Sherry Woocher, and her mother, Terry Fleisher. The funeral service will be Friday, May 1st at 10am at the Menorah Chapels at Millburn, 2950 Vaux Hall Road, Union, NJ. In lieu of flowers, please send donations to The Hal Fleisher Leukemia Fund, c/o Jewish Family Service of Dutchess County, 110 Grand Avenue, Poughkeepsie, NY 12603.

Please leave memories about my mom here - we love hearing from her friends and colleagues.

I Love My Mom

This is my mother holding hands/paws with a moose.