McCain/Palin = Tighe/Fey?

I am surely not the first to point this out, but my friend Matt and I have decided:

Ahem:

Is this not McCain?


And is this not Palin?


Locke's Dad + Liz Lemon = McCain/Palin.

Do you want a president who would steal your kidney? No. No, no you don't. That's why you're voting Obama/Biden on November 4th. Just checking.

This is How I Feel Most of the Time Right Now

When I'm not hugging my panda, this is how I feel all the time:

I'm Not Saying, I'm Just Saying

The Greatest Love of All

From Noahsam ... .. who says "The most powerful love all ... it's a forbidden love."

Why doesn't that panda love meeeeeeeeeee?

Big Idea / Bad Idea

Back in March, right after I was out for the count with horrific stummy problems, I did a segment on Donny Deutsch's show "The Big Idea" on CNBC. And now, due to the fact that I am highly anxious and not sleeping so much and therefore have late-night/early-morning bandwidth for being technomological, I have put it on the internets for your viewing pleasure. It's me and the lovely Bernadette Pauley duking it out about a variety of topics that were, uh, topical on March 13th.

Quelle Dommage: The Worst Morning Ever Story

So I woke up this morning with a hankering for an iced hazelnut coffee. Luckily for me, I had hazelnut coffee in my freezer so I decided I would brew a big ol' full pot of coffee, which I would then transfer into a handy-dandy glass pitcher and keep it in my fridge to enjoy iced coffee throughout the week. I am not fancy about my coffee, nor am I snobbish about its freshness, to be sure. I just want caffeine, preferably with fake sugar and fiber-enriched soy milk. Now, I hadn't made coffee in my coffeemaker for many, many months. Ever since my stummy became sick, I sort of don't drink so much coffee, and when I do, it's usually iced and purchased en route to work or during work or some such. When I caffienate in the morning, my drug of choice is Yerba Mate because it doesn't really frak with my stummy and it also provides a pleasant pick-me-up.

But! This morning was not like all other mornings. I poured the water tank full of water from my Pur (I'm a Pur girl, not a Brita girl) pitcher and scooped the coffee into the coffee filter and hit the "on" button and then went on my merry way to take a shower and shave my legs and exfoliate and do all the things that ladies do in the shower while listening to 101.1 CBS FM in the mornings. While I was showering, I heard a tremendous noise, but there are almost always loud noises in the morning in and around my building, since I live above a subway and on a very busy thoroughfare and there are people who live near me who apparently torture their children during the day (judging by the sounds of it) and they are also re-paving the streets so there's lots of heavy machinery making lots of rumblings all the time.

So I wrapped myself in a towel and padded through the living room to get some coffee before I got dressed and ... ruh-roh. The kitchen looked like a scene from Apocalypse Now, if Apocalypse Now took place in a white kitchen in which an entire pot full of hazelnut coffee had apparently exploded. It was a hazelnut disaster. The walls were spattered, and there were 12 cups of coffee dripping down the fridge and the pantry, all over my (white) kitchen table and my (white) kitchen counters and my (white) appliances. And there was broken glass everywhere (people pissing on the stairs, you know they just don't care) (not really, I was just making a Grandmaster Flash reference for you) so I put on my flipflops and grabbed a roll of paper towels and three different spray cleaners and I cleaned the kitchen and coated myself in a fine sheen of hazelnut coffee and dyed my towel hazelnut coffee colored. So I took another shower.

I can only imagine there was some sort of crack or something in the coffeepot, and since I haven't made coffee in months and months and months, I didn't notice. Note to self: always check for cracks and/or explosives in one's coffeepot before brewing 12 cups of hazelnut coffee!

And then I got dressed and put my hair into pigtails and put on some heels and realized I should really take out the trash, because my trash can was, by now, filled with an entire roll of hazelnut-coffee-soaked paper towels. So I grabbed my gym bag and my purse and pulled the trash bag out of the trash can and set off down the stairs. And halfway down, I slipped and fell down a full flight of stairs and landed on my butt. And somehow when I slipped and fell I managed to toss the trash bag up into the air, and I watched it tumble down, in slow motion, spilling its contents all over the stairs and all over me.

So I went back to my apartment, got another roll of paper towels (I buy them in bulk) and cleaned up the trash from the stairs, getting rotting vegetable matter all over me in the process. So then I had to go upstairs and take another shower. And put on fresh clothes. And put my hair back into pigtails.

It was really tremendously amazing.

And now my butt is bruised and hurts like a motherfrakker.

Awesome.

No Milk Today

So I was happily fumbling through dreamland, all cozied up in my bedding, as snug as a bug in a rug. I sleep all curled up into a nautilus/fetal sort of position, with my panda under my arm (I know. Seriously, I know. But he's such a tragic panda! ) And I was having this really vivid dream about being in a sort of industrial kitchen and preparing such tasty victuals as the most awesome grilled soy-cheese sandwich in the world, along with a delicious and refreshing Soy Russian (like a white Russian, but with soy, like duh) and in my dream it was very hot in the industrial kitchen and I was just drenched in sweat and commented about it in the dream and then suddenly lurched into awakeness and realized that I was actually drenched in sweat because I'd managed to burrow into a little nest under my quilt and my den of pillows, and it was sort of weird. But the weirdest part was that I woke up singing Cyndi Lauper's song "Lactose Intolerant" which she sang on Letterman in 1995, just around the time the first Starbucks opened in a neighboring town and I had my first frappacino and paid the consequences dearly. And then I went to get some water (must rehydrate) and looked it up on youtube and it's there. So, it must be a sign from the Universe to share it with you:


Lyrics:
I lack the enzymes to
Properly digest lactose
I can't drink cow's milk
I can't drink milk from a goat
Yogurt, cottage cheese...make me throw up
Please no cream in my cup
My stomach is swelling
I am lactose...intolerant
My throat is constricting
I am lactose...intolerant

And so, for whatever reason, I'm glad you could all experience the awesomeness of Cyndi Lauper singing about an affliction that affects oh-so-many of the Jews and apparently 100% of the Native Americans, according to wiki. Word.

Rocking the 201

For those of you who don't live in Bergen County, New Jersey, odds are really good that you don't receive "201 Magazine" -- the "Best of Bergen". I am honored to be featured in their July edition as one of the "Rising Stars" from Bergen County (alongside no less than the Jonas Brothers - squeee!) And I know you're all like, "Damn, I would so very much like to read that full-page article about you and gaze in rapture upon the photo that was taken but moments after you broke your big toe into many pieces!" Ka-blam: luckily for you, my dad is super tech-savvy (He's an engineer, doncha know) (not, however, the kind of engineer who wears a striped hat and drives a train - believe me, i was confused for much of my early childhood) and he scanned the article AND transcribed it (to send to my fambly members who do the email thing, I think) and I am mooching off of his good will to share it with you. Avec vous. Yes, indeed.

So, behold: this is me, on my way to becoming mildly somewhat almost recognizable amongst denizens of the affluent sections of Bergen County who have a 201 area code:


(photo by Ted Axlerod, who gamely lugged lights up four flights of stairs to my apartment and photographed me in my kitchen. Yes, my kitchen is bright red. You'd love it).

(you can clickity click on that photo to see it larger, I think).

And here is the accompanying text, by Ian Spelling, who's totally rad.

FUNNY FACE
Bex Schwartz is a writer, director, commedianne, singer, host, commentator, blogger, and familiar face to VH-1 and MSNBC viewers, but at the end of the day, she sums it all up thusly:
"I am" the 29-year-old Glen Rock native explains, "a comediator."
Come again? Comediator?
"It's an official term," Schwartz insists. "The whole thing about what we do on VH-1, or that I do on the news channels is, I'm being a comedian and a commentator. So I think the logical intersection is 'comediator'. I can hardly believe it's my job," she enthuses. "I mostly don't get paid for my on-air stuff, but we can pretend I do! I do it for the love of being on television. There's so much pop culture gossip out there, and I like deconstructing in a comedic way - and hopefully, in a more intellectual way."
Growing up in Glen Rock, Schwartz thought of herself as satirical, rather than ha-ha funny. She focused on directing after college and gravitated toward avant garde/post-modern theater and performance art. "I was very earnest," she says, "and I was going to change the world through art." Later, unprepared for a show in Manhattan, Schwartz improvised by sounding off about her family and life - and the audience cracked up. That paved the way to stand-up opportunities and later, her current day job as a senior writer-producer-director of on-air promos for VH-1. Nowadays, the lines between her day and night gigs are, she explains, "blurred beyond recognition."
Of course, there's always the danger that Schwartz could become so hot and so famous, she'll be the butt of exactly the kind of pop-culture skewering at which she excels. Not that that scares her. "I think that's the ultimate goal for anyone trying to make it in the entertainment industry," Schwartz says, "that random people like me end up making fun of you on television."

It's such a nice piece that I will forgive Ian for putting a hyphen into "VH1" (no hyphen, people! you could get fired for such an offense!) and I think he was calling me "Funny Face" in a nice way, not implying that I have a funny face, although, of course, I do have a rather funny face.

Anyway! 201 Magazine! On Newsstands in Bergen County now! You can say you knew me when! (bwa ha!)

"Somebody's Dad is Waving Right There"

Finally ... FIIINALLY ... FIIIIIIINAAAAALLLYYYYYY someone has taken the time to decipher, transcribe, and illustrate Joe Cocker's "A Little Help From My Friends" performance at Woodstock. I truly had no idea that Joe Cocker was a poet of such tremendous impact. This is the most enlightening experience I've had in months and months.

Reality Show SCANDALS

You guys. My all-time favorite television appearance re-aired last night on "Showbiz Tonight" so I wanted to share it with you. Seriously. All-time-fave-rave-talking-head appearance EVER.



PS: So I've been drowning in Rock Honors: The Who (Thursday, July 17th at 9/8c, only on vh1!) and then I went to Costa Rica and then I was an interfaith ministrix/Reverend SuperJew for the best wedding ever so I have been mega-lax on the updates. Whoopsies.

A Bullet-Eating Duck

Someday, perhaps when I've been drinking, please ask me to do my impression of the Bullet-Eating Duck and the Bonus Round Bear from the coleco game "Carnival."

It's must-see-tv.

SUPER HOT COMEDY ACTION! Thursday, June 5th! 7:30pm!

HEEEEY YOU GUYYYYS. I am filling in for my good buddypal Auntie Sara tomorrow night and hosting her amazing show, "Family Hour." Here's the scoop:

Come see why the New York Post calls Family Hour with Auntie Sara "one of the city's best bets for alternative comedy!" This hilariously unique family-themed (but not family-appropriate) night of stand-up and storytelling happens each Thursday at 7:30 PM at Ochi's Lounge/Comix. From attempted murder to Survivor audition tapes, these comedians' parents (and grandparents, and cousins, and siblings) have done it all. Best of all, Auntie Sara gives you FREE HOMEBAKED COOKIES! No cover, 1 item min. purchase. See http://www.sarabenincasa.com for more info. This week: special guest host, Auntie Bex Schwartz! (VH1, CNN) (that's me! -- ed.)

Featuring these amazingly talented and wonderful comedians:
Greg Johnson
Dan St. Germain
Gilad Foss
Cousin-in-Residence Kambri Crews
Mara Herron
Carmen Lynch
Godfather-in-Residence Tom Shillue
H. Alan Scott

Thursday, June 5th.
Ochi's Lounge at Comix - 353 West 14th, just east of 9th Ave.

YES WE CAN

HAPPY DAY!

Things Like This Make it Possible To Get Out of Bed in the Morning

Yes, tigers. There are things to make even the most permanent over-sleeper (that's me. I'm not wired for the mornings) get up in the morning. Things like unicorns, and soy vanilla pudding and The Hold Steady. But, more importantly, there are things like the classic "We Are the World" video (a highlight of 1984, to be sure, and the focal point of my first-grade existence), done all-new-all-over-again -- this time, starring Japanese impersonators playing each celebrity role and mimicking their lines. If just for the guy doing Bruce Springsteen (which was always the part I played when my friends and I would recreate this video), this is youtubular amazingness. It tickles my pleasure center.


And, O goodness; the Cyndi Lauper lady. Dead on, sister, just dead on. And Ray Charles! Gah! Ray Charles!

I don't know if you share the same near-obsessive compulsion with W.A.T.W., but I used to watch that shit over and over again and I knew every word and I could even identify everyone in the video (why is Dan Ackroyd there?) and if you'd like to know everyone who pops up, there's info here, but it's sort of cheating because, really, you should be able to recognize EVERYONE - Al Jarreau, whuuuuut?

(hat tip to the always wonderful BWE.tv for the amazingness).

Send them your hearts so they know that someone cares, and their lives will be stronger and free.

BEST FREAKOUTS EVER - now on CNN.com

Hey you guyyyys!
That piece I was in on "Showbiz Tonight" last week about the "Best Freakouts EVER" is now available for your online viewing pleasure. Watch it right here!

Why You Should TOTALLY Watch So You Think You Can Dance

Because people like this Robert Muraine cat are SO STUPID SICK (thanks, Mia Michaels).



I mean, whuuuut? Those are LIQUID LIMBS, people. Liquid!

I love this show sooooo very much. And now that Idol is over (and Survivor, and Gr'anatomy, and Lost is almost done, and there's no Big Brother for a while,) and I am laid up with a busted-up broken-down toe, I needs my fix of t-t-t-t-tasty tasty tv.

A Tableau

This is my broken toe. And my panda. And my firecane. And my new oversized pillows. These are basically the items around which my life is rotating right now. It's phenomenally glamourous.

Best Freakouts EVER -- on Showbiz Tonight

... watch me on last night's Showbiz Tonight! Discussing "BEST FREAKOUTS EVER."

House's FIRE CANE (which is also MY fire cane)

Last night on "House," drunken House forgot his firecane and Amber had to get on the bus to give it to him (even though she had driven to the bar, which was weird, because why would she leave her car at the bar and take the bus with House, shouldn't she have let House get on the bus sans cane and then dropped the cane off at his townhouse, or even given it to Wilson to give to House the next day at Plainsboro Teaching Hospital? I guess if she hadn't gotten on the bus, we'd have no two-part finale, but for a smart lady, I thought she made a dumb-ass choice). But! We got a nice long look at House's firecane, which just so happens to also be MY firecane, because I am hobbling around on it since I can't put any weight on my right foot, which is the foot with the broken big toe. So I was clutching my House firecane just when House received his own firecane! So House and I shared a real moment!

Of course, my friend Lindsayism / 'gum already blogged about House and his/my firecane last week so you already know where to get a House firecane of your very own.

But you should be forewarned that I already have House's firecane and since I am biting his style, you will be biting mine. But I'm sort of okay with that. Firecanes can take NYC by firestorm! (I am on a lot of painkillers. Forgive me).

Fergalicious - BACKWARDS

A few weeks ago, I performed "Fergalicious" (by Fergie!) backwards at the ToxicPop 5th anniversary party.

I hurt my back pretty hardcore so I wasn't able to do the 'ography I'd intended, but I sort of almost emulate-ish Fergieness. And I'm singing it backwards. Because that is my special human trick.