Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Stretch Marks (Or, Ms. Patti Caldwell)

In my YouTube search for Jewess Jeans, I came across this clip - which I'd never seen before.

Here's Gilda Radner as Patti Caldwell...promoting her new album Stretch Marks.

It's got big hair.

It's got a bitter, bitter heart.

And it's got some hot late 1970s fashion too good to be true.


Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Gael, When We Made Love You Used To...Juliette? (Or, I Got My Education)

Almodovar's Bad Education is one of my favorite films...I'm particularly fond of it because it is all about relationships between men (as opposed to being all about relationships between women or all about mothers...or all about high heels...or all about Penelope Cruz's tay-taas).

When I first saw the film, I was obsessed with how the drag queened/trannified Gael Garcia Bernal looked like a very lusty, very voluptuous, very-better-ass-ed version of Juliette Lewis.

And...low and behold...the folks at think so too (see answer #2 above).

The screenshot is from some "Name this Star in Drag!" Quiz I took a few months back...I laughed out loud when I saw it.

Sunday, January 27, 2008


Yesterday, Buffalo Void turned three.

There have been fond rememberances.

There has been pillow talk.

There have been drawings.

There have been eyelashes.

There has been shameless plugging of products I named.

There has been shameless plugging of videos I made.

There have been stories.

There have been stories about my fictional vagina.

There have been nicknames.

There has been frozen yogurt.

And, again after another year logged, there has been a lot of practice.

And, yes, Virginia, despite my current writing and drawing and photographing and sassing and gassing and joking and poking and styling and profiling lethargy, there should be another year in store.

Friday, January 25, 2008

The Designer Nose (Or, Guaranteed to Ride Up)

This is finally (back) on YouTube...hurry and watch it before it gets pulled.

Here's Gilda Radner in the excellent SNL commercial for Jewess Jeans.

"She's got a lifestyle that's uniquely hers...Europe...Nassau...Wholesale Furs."


Thursday, January 24, 2008

What If He Was Romeo In Black Jeans (Or, What If He Was Heathcliff)

I was going to write something about Heath Ledger...but I'd rather let A.O. Scott of the Times do it for me:

"An Actor Whose Work Will Outlast the Frenzy"

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Untitled (Or, Excuses Are Like Nipples)

So, yeah.

Clearly January is not a banner month for single solitary lonely ass post about not posting...and here I am writing another boring lame ass post about not posting.

This makes me think of a modified version of something an old art teacher of mine used to say to students who had excuses for not doing work:

"Excuses are like nipples*, most people have at least one."

Before I jumble this up with multiple, let me try to remedy the situation before I get ahead of myself:

I've been decamping and undecorating and packing and moving and unpacking and recamping and redecorating...and it the whole shebang is finally about done. I only have two boxes left to unpack and many, many stories to tell.

So, without further's the first of the several thousand ditties I have had on the backburner for the last few weeks:

My brother was in town this past weekend. On Friday night, after more drinks than my aging system can handle, I stumbled home as best I could.

On the way home, I was stopped by an Amazonian woman in a flimsy wrap dress and coat far too light for the weather. She was teetering on the spikiest of stilettos, her weave swaying desperately in the wind. Adding to this top-heavy sight was the huge boxed sheet cake she was carrying.

Yes, a sheet cake.

"Ecu me?" she asked me.

I barely stopped walking to address her.


"Can you carry my cake fo' me to da club? It my birfday!"

The bitter cold prevented me from entertaining the further comedy of me actually stopping to assist her in her grand entrance to "da club"...with me carrying in her sheet cake.

So, I mustered my best Midwestern apology-toned "Sorry" and carried on down the street.

I heard her muttering some "Oh hells no" response, but I was too cold and drunk to let it fully register.

*My teacher actually said "elbows" instead of nipples...but "nipples" sounds better.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Eight Ate Eight (Or, A Triumphant Return to...What Was I Talking About?)

I'd say "Yeah, Yeah, Yeah", but clearly that's not sufficient to cover the borderline-two-weeks of not posting.

I had a couple of feverish, heady moments where I was all steamed up and hot and bothered and loose and willing and able and steady and ready to rock this rhyme and bust out something here...but I've been up to my eyes in boxes.

If I were a lesbian, I'd be in heaven.

Although I've been accused of being a lesbian more often than I'd care to admit, my box fever is simple really: I'm moving into a new apartment next week.

In lieu of the continent of various other "oh-shit-oh-shit-I haven't-written" excuses I need to make to cover my ass, I'll drop a teeny tiny bitchy sort-of-not-really-story instead.

Friday night I went out to dinner with a group of gay friends...the night got drunkity drunk fairly quickly, and although there were dozens (yes...dozens) of moments I should share, I can only remember three snippets of conversation - neither of which I can take credit for:

"He's a top? On top of what?"

"No, they're not strippers. They're from New Jersey."

"Christ it smells like penis in here."

Sometime soon I'll make like Stella and get her groove back...or at the very least I'll make like Stella Artois and get my Belgian beer on tap back.

Until then...

Yeah, yeah, yeah.