Friday, August 31, 2007

My Baby Mama Deux (Or, 2 Days in Paris)

I have admitted this in the past: I have a thing - a big thing - for actress Julie Delpy. She's just the right combination of sexy and neurotic...I've been hooked since I can't remember.

I saw her new film 2 Days in Paris (which she also wrote and directed) and it threw me for a loop. I don't have it in me to write up a full review...but I will say that it's an accurate, devastating look at how romantic relationships - while many wonderful things - are studies in frustration...and deceit.

The film ends with this notion: no matter what, an individual can never, ever know someone else fully - no matter how intimate the relationship may be. There are always secrets...and there are always the lies that accompany them.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Our Miss Brooks (Or, Shut Up Louise)

I ate at a newish Italian restaurant in the East Village last night with a group of friends. (I would identify these friends by name, but I never know how they'll react.) The scene was beyond straight and, upon first glance, the crowd had exactly two tones: banker and bitch.

We were seated outside next to - remarkably - the only non-banker/bitch group there: a solo gay, a solo straight female, and a solo-so-close-to-sex-change-operation-you-could-smell-too-much- estrogen-in-the-air asian tranny.

All was well and good throughout dinner until the straight female announced to the waiter - loud, loud, loudly:

"OMIGOD. I mean...the food was amazing. I mean....the textures went so well together. I mean...there was just the right amount of contrast with everything. I mean..."

I mean...maybe she was just really into the food...but consider the following:

Did I mention this was an Italian restaurant?

Did I mention the food was barely-cut-above-average-Italian?

Did I mention such orgiastic, Times review praise was unnecessary and - perhaps - completely insane given the quality of the food?

Did I mention the woman had an extremely extreme tight dyed-black bob of a hairdo?

As we sat overwhelmed by her multiple foodgasm - waiting for some sort of calm to return, I said through clenched teeth:

"Would someone tell Louise Brooks to shut the fuck up already?"

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

It's Complicated (Or, It's Delicious)

Two weekends ago, my friend Anne coined the phrase "complicated deliciousness".

As in: "Why can't you handle my complicated deliciousness?"

It seemed apt at the time...and I've found myself using my new favorite phrase far too often in conversation.

For example...later in the same weekend, there was a not-so-special screening of the film Xanadu. When Olivia Newton-John reappears at the end of the film to sing the title song, she's in a glittery copper/brown (yes, brown) metallic halter-jumpsuit, heels, and a hair-fashion-forward blow-out so intense it would have left Farrah Fawcett-Majors' locks quivering in fear and chartreuse with envy at the time.

At first sight, the whole look was too much.

It was pure camp.

It was the dark side of Can't Stop the Music.

Until a further examination revealed...

Oh, no.

This was not camp at all...

It was just...

Complicated Deliciousness.

And I'm sure in 1980, I would have begged begged begged my mother to don such a look to take me to summer art class.

Ahead in Product Development (Or, That's Miss Kaydeross To You)

Clearly I made some grave mistake early in my career path. While I've been making things look pretty for a living, I could have been manning the copy desk at the corporate offices of Stewart's Shops. Their lines of soda and ice cream are truly blessed with the best names out there. (Hey, when you knock off 7-up, don't make up a new name, just name the bitch Citrus Pop and call it a day). Fuck Ben & Jerry's and their Phish Food...I'd take Death by Chocolate or the equally mysterious Kaydeross Kreme (see below) anytime.

Also, I'm not sure if Vichy tastes like the water from the Vichy Thermal Baths...but I'd drop $.99 on it anytime...

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

You Are Now Swappin' With The Best (Or, Yes, I Am Blind)

In addition to not writing anything during the month of August, I've also realized that I have barely watched television this month either. There have been no marathons of British reality shows to keep me occupied...or even any decently steamy, soft-core Cinemax movies to keep me up at night clutching my dirty pillows. What I did rekindle...was a love of the best/worst show on network television...

Wife Swap.

If you doubt its brilliance...check this out.

Or...this...which could be the show's masterpiece moment.

In three episodes, I was one junked up junkie. Above and below are stills from two of the three episodes that snared me. (Alas, I have no imagery from an episode that detailed a family of Pirates vs. a family of OCD Organziers. I must have been so overwhelmed by the term "Piratitude" and various yo-ho-ho-isms and "arrrrrrr!"s that I couldn't get my camera phone to the TV in time.)

Above is a girl named "Journey" - the beautiful, be-boa-ed child of a woman who legally changed her name to D'Eva (since she's, um, a diva). D'Eva and her husband are teaching their children the fine art of cosmetology...below is D'Eva in full effect - telling the family she was swapped to something about somethin' somethin':


And here is another featured swapper who - in her mid 30s - is trying to break into modeling:

And no, that's not trick photography - one of her eyes is so lazy, it's completely unemployed.

She's giving Sandy Duncan a run for her money with that eye.

I hate to be mean in such a fashion, but my own glass eye has always prevented me from the field of high-fashion modeling. I deeply resent her ambition and courage.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Love and Fudge on Long Island (Or, Unintentionally)

Yeah, I know. No daily writing....once again. I've been away a lot - and when I haven't been away, I've been making excuses.

Pictured above:
the "Fudge N' Stuff" store in Montauk...something tells me it would do much better business in Provincetown or Key West...but that's just me.

Also of note: I don't think heterosexuals (or heterosexuals with no senses of humor) even notice this store...but I giggled and guffawed and laughed and chortled whenever I walked by this place last weekend. But hey, they make fresh fudge and offer free tastes. There's also a bakery a few doors down that makes tons of whole-grain products...which is great in case they need to, um, make more fudge.

Monday, August 13, 2007

Pulp Non-Fiction (Or, Dirty Diana)

Summer means summer reading and summer reading means it's time to roll up your sleeves and dig into some quality dirt.

I recently tore my filthy nails through Tina Brown's The Diana Chronicles. It ain't no Jacqueline Susann novel, but the shit has some quality camp and dirt - made all the more campy/dirty by the facts that:

A.) All of the shit in the book really - or supposedly really - happened.

B.) I never paid attention to all of the royal scandals the first time around so nearly all of the scandals were new to me. All I knew was that Fergie's mammoth, ginger-spotted tits were drooping off the side of a yacht at one point in the mid 1980s.

C.) When Brits fall apart, they really, really fall apart. Those stiff upper lips really hold back motherlodes of scandal.

I was skeptical about reading it - since I initially thought the topic (see B. above) wouldn't hold my interest for 500 or so pages - but goddamn was I glued to it.

Or...as Prince Charles would say to Camilla Parker Bowles:

"I was as close to it as your tampon is close to you."*

*D.) The use of metaphors as modes of seduction in this royal tale is truly, truly appalling. At one point, Charles tells Camilla over the phone that he misses her so much, he wishes he could as close to her as her, um...tampon. Given Camilla's horsiness, I would have said "salt-lick". Just sounds hotter. Either way you cut it: no need.

Back in Inaction (Or, Write Power)

In the past, I've written apologies for not writing or taking breaks from writing or not writing because I was busy drinking or not writing because I was folding my socks or not writing because I was too busy drawing or not writing because I was too busy watching Spanish films dubbed into German or not writing because I was busy channeling Carol Channing playing Stockard Channing playing Tatum Channing's mother or sister or lover or transsexual high school drama teacher.

Anyway, here I am typing "anyway" as a way to say I'm trying my best to be back in the saddle here. It's August though - which is Italian for "naptime". So, these last two weeks of August, I will try my best to forego any and all naps to instead write something at least halfway entertaining or rude or stupid like it's February and there's nothing to do but sit inside, watch it snow, and dream of naptime in August.

At best, this entry will get my mother's attention. Even she recently asked, "You still have a blog?"

So, here blows the dust, here go the cobwebs.

Let discussion of bodily functions, the absurdities of day-to-day life, and Miss Sheryl Crow's current toilet paper usage resume...now.