Saturday, November 15, 2003

I had a lil' bit to drink at dinner
I'm also the worst pool player ever ("I'm the worst Poochie ever"). I had a conversation about Cheap Trick too. So, now I'm totally in the mood for some fist pumpin' music.

haiku about my day
No destination
Dad and Lucas at the game
We took our sweet time

Washington, Georgia
The long streets lined with old trees
A great house for sale

Drive home at sunset
I hear about my grandad
I never knew him

At the grocery store
Vegetarians buy steak
For the men we love

Rebecca is here
Thirty-nine songs by ABBA
Dad blows a speaker

The coals were too low
No one drinks the Amstel Light
The steaks are perfect

Under paid and over worked
After dinner talk

Friday, November 14, 2003

Praise Him!
Looks like King of the Hill wasn't too far off.

Dear John Cameron Mitchell,
Thank you for writing Hedwig, making the movie, and changing my life.

Dear Scott Sosebee,
Thank you for giving me the "Songs from and inspired by" Hedwig record for my birthday. The only thing that can come close to JCM singing 'Origin of Love' is Rufus Wainright singing it.
p/s: You were right, the Yoko Ono and Yo La Tengo (Yoko Tengo?...) song is awful.

Tonight I head to Atlanta to eat Moroccan food, toss dollar bills at belly dancers and hopefully see someone at the Claremont Lounge crush a beer can between her boobs.

"I just want a bachelor's degree"
I'm having an argument with someone in my on-line class on whether providing free higher education for prisoners is an "incentive" to go to prison. I don't think incentive and prison should ever be in the same sentence. I've never heard such illogical answers.

Thursday, November 13, 2003

Please note that powdered coffee creamer does not work in iced coffee. It was the only thing at work I could find to mellow the coffee's strength--I didn't put enough milk in at the shop. It doesn't dissolve one bit in iced coffee.

Help wanted. Duran Duran, no need to apply.
But maybe you guys can! Has anyone seen Hitchcock's Notorious? I watched most of it on TCM the other day, but I think I fell asleep (BG no teasing!). The surprise ending made no sense to me. I'm looking for someone who can explain what happened.

Wednesday, November 12, 2003

best birthday
Surprise, surprise surprise and another year around the sun. Thanks to Big Gray and Ms. Comrade for organizing a surprise at the Manhattan for me. I got a Kate Spade purse and way too drunk. What more could a girl ask for? I have to get up in 6 hours, but it was worth it. Thanks to everyone!

Stuck in Time
I can't ever check blogs at the radio station, b/c for some reason the last entry for everyone's (except catoptric) is stuck in August. Weird.

Hope your day today is better, Mame

Tuesday, November 11, 2003

Dear Love Actually,

I think you're the best movie yet to come from those writers, producers, or whoever they are. There wasn't a moment I didn't like. Yes, you're, um, slightly predictable and unrealistic, but I say if you've got a good formula then stick to it. Every now and then I like to indulge in a movie with a positive ending (although, it was entirely positive). There's great British humor, a little sadness, an incredible ensemble, and to top it off one of the most perfect Beach Boys songs to end the movie: God Only Knows. Despite the fact that you're a 2hr and 15 min. constant reminder that I'm not in a relationship, I think you're the best romantic comedy of 2003.

The Agent

Worst day ever.

Monday, November 10, 2003

Antsy x 4
I've made the round of blog checking no less than 5 times in the past hour--I cannot concentrate on work at the moment. I've got a presentation in 2 hours. It's short, but I'm still apprehensive. I have this fear that everything I know is wrong. Last time I gave a presentation for the class, my partner and I made the mistake of showing a video clip. I, unfortunately, was the one who asked the question that followed the clip. The clip was more of a visual aid, kind of pointless, but it broke up the monotony. So, I asked the question and apparently didn't cover the topic adequately (I never intended to cover everything. I was focusing on one aspect), b/c one of my two teachers said something like "well, that's what happens when you watch the movie instead of reading the book." I was too shocked to respond. The irony: I read the whole book, never watched the movie, and showing the clip wasn't even my idea.

Now We're Talking
Finally, politicians (conservatives included!) are listening to what criminologists have been saying for years.

Sunday, November 09, 2003

Coming straight to you from NYC
This was sent to me by a good friend in New York via email. It's long, but well worth it...

so my buddy and creative partner d*** is putting together a book of photographs from the china club, a studio 54-esque mainstay for celebrities and their hangers-on throughout the last several decades. friday afternoon he asked if i wanted to join him at the club for a private duran duran concert for some contest winners. now, i won't go so far as to call myself a duran duran fan, but i would be lying if i said i didn't know all the words to hungry like the wolf and rio. and the reflex. um, and save a prayer and girls on film and ordinary world. definitely not a fan, though. anyway...

i show up around seven (i'm on the list!) and walk upstairs to the main floor, pausing long enough to look at the old black and white photographs of derek jeter, blondie and that guy from baretta that killed his wife. i meet d*** and our friend j****** in the back and begin drinking the free vodka that's lying around the "VIP lounge." i also meet d***'s friend d****, the owner of china club. this man is a cartoon caricature of a new york city club owner: gray silk suit, huge barrel chest, slicked back hair and those yellow j-lo sunglasses (note: it was not sunny in the club). he was perfectly nice, and a huge fan of d***.

after a few minutes of insipid chatter from some local dj the band comes on. and i will tell you, they put on quite a show... at one point i believe i was actually pumping my fist in the air to mimic the throbbing beats. but that remains unconfirmed. it was a solid 2 hours of solid 80s hits, and i enjoyed every minute of it. not as much as j******, though. she finally fessed up to being a superfan at age 12 ("you don't understand... i actually sent simon le bon a birthday card. i am so pathetic.") and was doing her best to hold it together.

after the show ends we decide to go up on the roof and smoke a joint that i rolled for the occasion. after much pushing and shoving through the masses we are able to find d****'s wife m***, an attractive blonde 40-year-old who is completely housed. "so nice to meet you," she says, giving me an open-mouthed kiss while adjusting her gold glitter halter top. she then leads us past the bouncers and screaming fans, who are clutching their pens and old concert t-shirts religiously, then upstairs to the roof.

this roof is amazing. it looks exactly like the ninja fighting scene in kill bill: pagodas, buddhas, reflecting pools, trickling waterfalls, bamboo... and suddenly it's me, d***, j******, the inebriated wife and duran duran. we say hello to the former megastars, shake hands and then head into the corner to smoke (except for j******. she has a lot of questions for the band).

we are soon joined by drunk m***, her "special friend" mimi and some sleazy guy in a black leather coat and dark sunglasses (note: it is not sunny on the roof, either). oh, and richie f, the guy that does the fishtanks for all the china clubs. right, perfect. upon smoking the joint the guy in the leather jacket (a dentist) begins talking to me, asking me if i like to party and if i'm "on the scene," whatever that means. at one point he showed d*** and me a typed, closely-spaced list of girls' names and physical descriptions that he keeps with him for reference at all times. not much more to say about that. after a few more minutes of brutal conversation, he points out three korean girls in the corner of the deck. "see those lovely ladies over there? i purchased them for the evening, so let me know if you'd like me to introduce you." actually, i'm all set on korean hookers for the night, but thanks. he then goes into the relative merits of indigenous asians versus "the transplants." apparently girls who live in, let's say, korea, only have access to rice and that is why their butts are so flat. the meat-eating korean-americans, on the other hand, are able to have a much fuller shape.

i extract myself from this gem of a conversation and head back into the lounge area. i sit down on a couch and promptly begin eating fistfuls of those delicious new guacamole-flavored doritos. remember, i am very stoned. someone sits down beside me, but i am too busy eating to look up. "man, you have got to try these things," i mumble, crumbs cascading out my mouth and onto the bamboo table. when i finally remove my face from the bowl i realize it's simon le bon sitting on the next couch, and he's staring at me, dumbfounded. think fast, j****. "so, um, how's your wife [supermodel yasmin le bon]? i haven't seen her in any magazines lately." he informs me that they divorced more than 4 years ago, then turns to talk to a groupie in fishnet stockings. i am now definitely "on the scene."

at that moment the dentist comes back over and sits down beside me on the leather couch. he starts pointing out some hot "skirts" with great "cabooses," then proceeds to tell me that his 25-year-old girlfriend has recently become friends with his 22-year-old daughter. "really good friends, if you know what i mean," he says. i don't. "let's just say that i had the hottest threesome of my life the other day with them, and let me tell..." i didn't hear the rest, as i had clamped my hands over my ears and was chanting "la la la la la" at the top of my lungs.

i sprint across the room to find d***, who is politely trying to decline dinner invitations from d****, m***, the dentist and a whole host of other ne'er-do-wells. "we've decided on dinner," m*** slurs, "but the one thing i haven't decided on is what i want afterwards -- dick, or pussy." her husband doesn't miss a beat: "either way, i'll be right there watching!" the crowd laughs heartily, the way one would at a dinner party upon hearing a particularly witty bon mot, and i suddenly realize that i am in way over my snellville head. d*** and i hide behind a giant golden buddha until they leave, then make our way out into the streets.

needless to say i went straight home, took a scalding hot shower and prayed for our souls. i also remembered to save a prayer 'til the morning after.

god bless you, duran duran.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?