Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Design of the Times (Or, Motion)

I'm spent from a couple of hard-driven days at work...which means I've slipped sideways into a purely visual mode.

Here are a couple of design pieces (ok, both are film title sequences - which is maybe what I really should be doing, work-wise) that always drive me wild.


Above: Maurice Binder's title sequence for Stanley Donen's Arabesque.

Below: Saul Bass' title sequence for Psycho a bonus...a camp treasure that still makes me happy.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

What's the Wurst That Could Happen? (Or, Krautastic Tuesday)

I've professed my love for meat products to an embarrassing degree...but I can't help but keep on keepin' on that topic for this week's Krautastic Tuesday.

Germans "do" meat so well it hurts (see also: German Cuisine..."The average person in Germany will consume up to 72 pounds of meat in a year."). When I was in Berlin a couple of years ago, I was overwhelmed at culinary possibilities...even though meat products were all that was really on offer. I developed a nose for finding street vendors selling currywurst (a hands-down favorite) and, of course, had to pull over and get down with some curried sausage every single time I got a whiff.

When I showed my (German) family photographs of Berlin after I returned, my Grandmother seemed a little unimpressed with the imagery. She instead grilled me about the food...and was clearly envious when I told her probably ate her weight in Bratwurst the week that I was there. For a woman whose main food groups are butter and pork, my version of Berlin (where there's pork sausage waiting to be inhaled on every corner) nearly brought her to tears.

There are a few German restaurants in New York that I've been introduced to...and have since fallen in love with (Lederhosen being the downest and dirtiest...writing all of this makes me want to run to the Village and scarf down whatever lunch special they have on offer)...but I still dream of street vendors grilling up their wursts in the open air.

Three For The Road (Or, Illustration Friday)

This is the third and final stop on this week's Puppy Chow express.

I had to do this...above is my submission to this week's Illustration Friday.

Topic: Wrinkles.

And, I know, I could have drawn Goldie Hawn's ass or some other wrinkly thing...but I'm saving that for another rainy day.

Monday, April 28, 2008

Walking and Talking (Or, Street Life)

I just said I promised myself not to turn this into a dogblog, but material just keeps presenting itself...begging (like a dog) to be shared.

I wrote earlier that walking my dog is like trucking around with a bucket of sunshine. A side effect of this sunshine is that I now talk to random strangers on the street.

A lot.

Most of the time, the chit-chat is limited to details on the dog's breed, age, etc. etc. etc. with an occasional flirty line or two thrown in for good measure.

Sometimes though, what is said to me throws me for a loop...mostly because when I'm walking the dog, I'm fixated on his piss, poop, and whether or not he's trying to eat a used condom off the sidewalk.

Once, while I was pulling Bobo away from an open trash bag on the street, a guy lurched at me and grunted:

"Yeah him who's daddy."

And another time...again, dragging my dog away from some sort of street shit, a man growled:

"Yank him. Choke him...choke him."

Now, if I lived on the same block as the Eagle, I'd understand this lascivious dog banter.

Or...maybe I shouldn't walk the dog while wearing a leather harness and chaps.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Celebrity Math (Or, Quantum Juliette)

Are You For Rhea? (Or, Potty Poetry)

Since becoming a dog owner, I have promised myself not to turn BV into a cutesy-poo puppy show. Yes, I did post pictures of my dog...but I'm trying to keep it together, all things considered.

Anyway, I do feel compelled to share a little funny from a shitty (literally) day.

Yes, my dog Bobo has diarrhea.

It started last night...and has been working itself out (again - literally) all day today.

When emailing someone near and dear about the state of my dog's poopy affairs, I used the term "rhea" as short-hand for which N&D replied:

"Rhea Perlman?"

Being a semi-professional scatologist, I couldn't let the visual opportunity pass me by without a little riff. So, I replied to the question "Rhea Perlman?" with a poem:

Rhea shot out his ass
and did a tap dance
said "it smells in here -
reeks way worse than Cheers".
She wrung out her fro -
slid on poop to the do'
said "I'm off to my beau -
lil Danny DeVito."

Dedicated to Miss Nora and her cerebrity crients

A Piece of Retail Heaven (Or, A Complete Selection)

I have admitted in the past I have a fondness for the word pocketbook.

The word just makes me laugh.

A couple of months ago, I was in Astoria, Queens to see some friends and make love to some amazing Greek food (another thing I have intense fondness for). When I got off the subway platform, I found myself directly in front of the store above - whose signage advertises:


I thought I'd died and gone somewhere close to heaven... addition to getting a comic kick out of pocketbook...I love stationery stores more than I can say.

I wanted to move in.

The store was closed when I was there that day...I was dying to know just what a "complete selection of...pocketbooks" really is. I might have to haul ass back out there sometime to find out.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Je Suis Un Cochon (Or, Piggy Does Peaches)

This is too good to be true...

Here's Miss Peaches' "Fuck the Pain Away".


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Dust in the Wind (Or, Riding the Bus With My Make-Up Artist)

In my early twenties, I lived in Boston. Whenever I would visit New York, I would take the Peter Pan bus (hey, it was cheap...and, despite what people say about her glass eye, Sandy Duncan is an amazing bus driver).

Anyway, I once took the absolute last bus from Boston to New left Boston around midnight and got to Manhattan at some ungodly hour. I'd never taken this last bus (which was the first and last time I was to make the late-ish night trek), and it was naturally full of characters.

In less polite terms: it was full of drunks.

The Peter Pan busline certainly knew this about the last bus from Boston...since the bus they assigned to make this late night run was ancient, stinky, and dustier than Kansas in the 1930s.

I sat somewhere toward the middle of the bus. A woman with a huge make-up case (it was the mid 1990s, so I'm sure it was a Kaboodle) sat in the row in front of me. Just above the woman's head was one of the bus's television monitors...covered in grime.

Without missing a beat, the woman opened up her Kaboodle, took out a giant blush brush, and proceeded to dust the filth off of the T.V.

She then tapped the blush brush, tucked it back into her Kaboodle, and blurted out:

"Feerrrr Chrisssss's fuccccckin' fillllllthyyy in here."

I could only think how fucking filthy her face would be the next day when she sobered up and needed to freshen her blush.

Primitive (Or, Illustration Friday)

It's it's only fitting that it's time for my submission to last week's Illustration Friday. Topic: Primitive.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Männer (Or, Krautastic Tuesday)

I've tried several times to reign in this week's Krautastic Tuesday topic Deutsche Männer (German Men) to no avail.

At first, I was going to pay tribute to sexy German actors...but there's really only one (Til Schweiger) two...(Benno Fürmann)..uh..uh..or maybe three (Sebastian Koch).

Then, I was going to write about homoeroticism in German culture in the time of the Weimar Republic...but that got to be so overwhelmingly Queer-Studies-Thesis-That- No-One-Will-Ever-Read, that I had to abandon it before I bored even myself to tears.

Clearly, I'm spent.

So...what can I say about German men?


If you're so inclined, there are a few films about German men (some gay...some funny...yes, somehow...sometimes...Germans can muster up a laugh):


Der Bewegte Man (starring Til Schweiger)

Was Tun, Wenn's Brennt?

Der Krieger und Die Kaiserin

Keiner Liebt Mich

Next week, it's back to meat products...

Monday, April 21, 2008

Twink Twank Twunk (Or, Mammaries)

As I mentioned earlier, my friend Lucas was in town most of last week. Lucas and I have been friends for over a decade. Like most of my friends, he loves to make fun of me for various reasons.

For example, he told me last Wednesday: "You know Trevor Marie, you wouldn't be much without that giant chest of yours."

Ah...old friends.

Anyway, last summer, I went to Tulum with Lucas and another friend Jeremy. Once upon a time, the three of us were partners in crime. I brought along a picture of the three of us that was taken on my birthday in 1999 (when I was a wee 28).

As I've also mentioned here, I didn't wrap up puberty until I was 30. Seriously - there is a clean break in what I look like pre- and post-30.

In other words, I am unrecognizable in photos of me that were taken prior to turning 30.

So, on day one of our trip, I pulled out the 1999 photograph to show Lucas and Jeremy. There the three of us were, all late-20s smiles with Lucas and Jeremy looking exactly the same as they do now and with me...looking like a fetus.

Jeremy said, "Shit...we were all so young."

Lucas, ever the blushing rose, said, "'s the version of Trevor we signed up for..."

With an eyeroll in my bearded direction, he finished:

"...and look at the Trevor we're stuck with now."

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Ditto Ditto (Or, A Belated Weak in Review)

There's nothing like having a friend visit from out of town to shut down a blog for a few days.

I'm back in semi-inaction, and if I weren't still hung over from Friday night, I'd be eight shades of productive today. Since said hangover is still hanging out, I'm making this as fast as humanly possible.

I went to see the (always-excellent-live) Gossip perform on Tuesday night...while their show was good, I was more entertained by their freewheeling covers. Hearing Beth Ditto barrel through the opening of Dolly Parton's "9 to 5" was something to behold.

I love Beth Ditto...but there's something...well...young about some of the things she says in interviews. She rips apart gay men for supposedly causing women's body issues...yet she hangs out with Kate Moss like she was the coolest heavyset bulldyke in town (guess it's OK to be a woman who fucks with a woman's body image rather than a man).

And, given the crowd assembled to see her at Webster Hall, I'm not sure why she has to hate on her biggest fanbase. There were more gay men than women in the a long shot.

Regardless, I can't hate that much on a woman who once, when called a "fatass" at a Hollywood party, simply barfed all over they guy who insulted her.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

M83 (Or, Let's Just Pretend the Last 20 Years Never Happened)

I can't get enough of's their new video for "Graveyard Girl" which is so suburban 80s high school I can't take it...


Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Stalling Stalling Stalling (Or, Krautastic Tuesday)

Now that I'm roped into this (insert German expletive here) feature...and people actually email me and complain when there's not a Krautastic Tuesday posted, I find myself constantly behind the 8-ball in trying to wrap up my weekly Teutonic ode to whatever.

While I was all hot for a topic a while back...I find myself pushing off that bad boy for yet another week. Yes, I've dropped hints that it's about German men...but it's just too sprawling for me to ever get my smartass sensibility around when I'm down to the wire. lieu of the extended remix about German men - here's a little ditty from...

...Bette Midler.

"As many of you know, I married a German boy. Yes, I married a kraut. Every night I have to dress up like Poland so he can invade me."

Monday, April 14, 2008

Word on the Street (Or, Death Becomes Her)

Two snippets of conversation overheard on the street last week:

WOMAN 1: I'll flat out tell her she's a whore.

WOMAN 2: Really?

WOMAN 1: Oh yeah. She's my cousin. I can tell her shit like that.


WOMAN 1: I can't believe it. Sheila's demeesed.

WOMAN 2: Oh shit. She's dead?

Saturday, April 12, 2008

The Unbearable Cuteness of Bobo (Or, From One Extreme to the Other)

After yesterday's photo post about soft-core sort-of-not-really X-rated wrestling, I felt the need to swing to the other extreme of imagery...

Here are a collection of photos of the new man in my life...Mr. Bobo Bojangles Bostoferson.

I already have a backlog of stories about dog ownership...and the drama/comedy/melodrama/absurdity it entails. But, for now, I'm going to let the pictures do the talking.

He's funny. He's sweet. He loves yogurt...and meat.

Walking him in my neighborhood is like trucking around with a bucket of sunshine - I'm still amazed at how many random people jump in our path to pet and squeeze him and puff up his little puppy ego in every way imaginable.

With that load of cutesty crap, I'll quit while I'm ahead. Here's Bobo:

Friday, April 11, 2008

This Fight Has Been Rated NC-17 (Or, File Under: Demography)

I've recently discovered something on Showtime called EliteXC Xtreme Combat. I hardly ever watch it more than ten minutes at a time...usually just the intros showing various shirtless "fighters" all oiled up and ready for bruising.

I usually get bored...and hardly ever make it to an actual fight before I change the channel.

I assumed these fights were just boxing matches with a few kicks and marital arts moves thrown in.

However, earlier this week, I caught the show mid-fight...and was astonished. Above and below are some scenes from the "fight" I watched - which is pretty much a scenario from a Colt Studio production...with shorts and gloves on.

These two fighters never left the mat - they were entangled in the missionary position for a good twenty five minutes in various configurations and, um, roles.

I was titillated enough to take these screen captures...but couldn't help this supposed to be for straight guys?

I would qualify this entry as being "not quite safe for work viewing"...but the two fighters here are sort-of clothed...and Showtime didn't air any "scenes in this fight might be overwhelmingly homoerotic" I won't either.

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

My Former Fictional Staff (Or, A Part-Time Lover)

I often joke about my fictional staff (see also: 80east Design's Fictional Holiday Party, 2006).

When I moved in January...I neglected to tell my three fictional assistants where I moved...and it looks like one of them has ended up back at the King Burger (see above).

Say hello to LaDawna Marie - also known as Bon Qui Qui.


Tuesday, April 08, 2008

Bist Du Ein Warm Brüder? (Or, A Belated Krautastic Tuesday)

Last week I was all hot and bothered for this week's Krautastic Tuesday topic...and here I sit on the following (ahem) Wednesday without an entry.

So...that hot-to-trotty entry will wait another week. In its stead, here's a mini-krauty two-parter that's semi-related to the topic I was so worked up about.

Warm Brüder is a German slang term for a homosexual male. It's quite endearing when literally means warm brother...perhaps implying that man-to-man action is purely accidental:

"Gerhardt and I were so cold sleeping in separate beds. We got in bed together to keep warm...and the next thing we knew...we were shopping for matching his-and-his towels and setting up house on Nollendorfplatz."

So, the next time you're out and about and need to greet a German, kindly ask:

"Bist du ein Warm Brüder?"

As for part two of this mini-entry that's rambling on to has to do with something near and dear to my heart: kraut.

I have been craving sauerkraut lately...I'm not sure why. I did eat some on a disturbingly large hot dog a few weeks ago at the Brooklyn Diner in Times Square. I ordered the diner's famous hot dog...which turned out to be insanely pornographic. I had to cut it down to thirds - I
was afraid of looking like I was trying to give head to John Holmes in front of a restaurant full of little old ladies and gents.

I nearly asked the waiter:

"Do you have the needle-dick version of this hot dog? This one's a little too girthy."

The kraut, however, was slammin'.

Thursday, April 03, 2008

Yeah, Yeah, Yeah Part 8900 (Or, Music)

Today has been...a day.

I have topics to write about sitting here in front of me on a to-do list...a list that will not get shorter no matter how long I'm chained to the computer.'s some music I can't get enough of right now.


The Whip - "Trash"

Cut Copy - "Lights and Music"

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Permanent Wave (Or, Permalicious)

Here's the what-the-fuck Google queries that brought dozens of people to BV this week:

Courtney D'Amico
Krautastic Tuesday
Put Her Tits On
Know the Toe
Boy Home Perm
Ogilvy Home Perm
See You Next Tuesday Joke
Drive-in Theater Sluts .com
Persian Girl + Dubai
A Gemini Slut
Quill Gays
Mama Deux
Google Dolls in Buffalo
Tyra Banks Passport Photo personal favorite...

Home Perms for Body on YouTube

When You're in Pittsburgh You Have To Do Something (Or, Illustration Friday)

Well, since I'm nearly a week behind in writing, here's my submission to this week's Illustration Friday. The topic was homage.

It's pretty obvious what this is an homage to - I took the self-portrait this is based on at a photobooth in the Andy Warhol Museum in Pittsburgh five years ago...when I was between beards.

This entry's title is an homage too - kudos to those who can identify this quote:

"Well, when you're from Pittsburgh, you have to do something."

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Lola Famanna (Or, Krautastic Tuesday 2)

Since this week's Krautastic Tuesday was a bust when it should have been busty, an addendum came to me while I was reading a comment left to the first entry below.

The lovely German actress Franka Potente (star of Run Lola Run) also starred in the Bourne Identity with Matt Damon. I saw the first Bourne movie when it came out at the huge multiplex in Times Square. The crowd was - as is typical at the 42nd Street theater - loud, loud, loud.

When Franka and Matt Damon finally get down get down, a woman sitting in the middle of the theater whelped out:

"OH Helllllls nawh. Why is that fiiiiiine piece of asssss gettin' freaky with a bitch who look like a man? Shit. I should have been in this mothafuckin' movie. I freak that Matt Damon reeeeal good."

She went on like that a little longer to herself. The audience was so entertained by her soliloquy on why she should be banging Mr. Damon, no one shushed her.

Of course, given this little ditty that's recently hit the airwaves...maybe it was Sarah Silverman?

Mission: Impossible (Or, Krautastic Tuesday)

In thinking about this week's Krautastic Tuesday, I had worked up this fantastic theory about how every decade produces a great female German sex symbol (or, if you'd like, Sexbombe) - a blonde liebchen who's titular, icy, and emotionally unavailable.

Today, in trying to grid this fucker out...I could only come up with three women that fit my (now clearly) cockamamie thesis.

I hit the Berlin Wall, if you will.

I wrote up a map of the three blondes that did work (Marlene Dietrich, Claudia Schiffer, Heidi Klum), hoping that somehow other sexy ladykrauts would materialize in dirndls and braids, carrying steins of beer and trays of hot wursts for me to suck on.

But...I had to delete what I wrote.

My Mission: Impossible statement sounded like a jackass voiceover for Access Hollywood reworked for German public television read by David Hasselhoff.

I also tried to work in some of Fassbinder's muses from the 1970s (Hannah Schygulla and Barbara Sukowa)...but that didn't work either.

All of this hot air (or, less than hot air), led me to next week's at the very least, I have something better (and, yes, hotter) in store.

In the meantime, here's something to hold you over - a preview of krautastic things to come.