Friday, April 28, 2006

...And Now Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

Where April went, I have no idea. I do know that I have (for the moment) beaten my workload into submission...at least for the weekend. I would have written more this past month, but I'm afraid most entries would go a little something like this...hit it:

All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy. All work and no play makes TM a (blank) boy.

The intentional (blank)s would be filled in with either "solvent" or "bitchy" depending on my mood at the time.

See how mercifully I've spared you?

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Strangers in the Right (Or, Discharging Glances)



There just might be a Baby Santie Claus after all...finally, after a year in stalled release date studio limbo, the Strangers With Candy movie will arrive in theaters this summer.

Knowing this has got me positively all puffy down there...

P.S. After taking, oh, a month off from regular writing, I know this is as lame as lame entries come. If anyone would like to offer me a trust fund or an Anna Nicole Smith-style faux-marriage hook up to an aged billionaire in need of a final lap dance, titty fuck and handjob or two in exchange for some cash money in order to float my bloated Manhattan living expenses in order to write write write, please let me know. Now, if possible...our operators are standing by....

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Sprung, Sprunger, Sprungest (Or, More of the Same)

Yes, yes, y'all...another week goes by with not a lot to say.

Or, rather, too much to say, and not enough strength of will to focus on how to say it.

In short, as it were, once again for the first time today, needless to say, never the less, more or less, more than I can say, every little thing she does is magic, it was the heat of the moment, it was the heat of the night, it was the night of the iguana, night and day, day and night, day for night, night train, night fever, midnight express, midnight train to Georgia, Georgia on my mind, the mind is a terrible thing to taste, on a clear day you can see forever, forever your girl, forever is a novel by Judy Blume, and for the first time this week I will say it loudly and with feeling, nothing new, nothing blue:

Spring has sprung, sprung, sprung.

I went to D.C., went to a wedding, went to a party, ate Easter candy, rode AmCrak back and have been trying to barrel through as much work as I can so I can get outside some time soon...

So, here's to the thrill of feeling the sun on my skin, right outside my front door without the need for an airplane to get me to it.

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

More Than I Can Say (Or, Spring Has Sprung)

So, yeah. I'm back to "light" blogging. What can I say? Spring has finally fucking sprung and in true New York fashion, that means spending as much time outdoors as humanly possible, preferably while drunk.

More and better soon, that's a promise.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

Liza With a Heh Heh Heh

This is a little played out at this point...but it still kills me. In promoting her restored concert special, Liza With A Z, Ms. Minnelli proves that, once again, what becomes a legend most is booze, booze, booze.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

America's (Tenth) Favorite Cookie (Or, Como Que No Clammy Sammy?)

So, I got ahead of myself.

It happens.

My last entry, the hot and soon-to- be- bothered pre-Basic Instinct 2 entry, was as shallow and unnecessary as a sequel to New York Minute, the Olson Twins' first (and hopefully only) feature film.

I went to see Basic Instinct 2 on Friday night...and...

Well...

It just wasn't bad enough. Sharon Stone didn't even flash her muff once for the camera.

Not even close.

There was no cookie tray, no clam-dance, no snatch-a-peek-a-boo-of my hot boom-boom box shot in the whole film. I was nearly bitter enough to approach the box office and demand my money back. I paid good money (well, $10.75) for a money shot that I never got.

I went to see Sharon Stone's party parts, and all I got was a truly lousy, ham-handed pseudo-thriller that was too earnest for its own good.

And, on top of that, 9 other films made more money than it did last weekend...so my dreams of seeing Sandy Bullock in a remake of "The Devil in Miss Jones" are just plain dashed, dashed, dashed.