Wednesday, July 30, 2008

The Genius of Beth Grant (Or, Sparkle Motion)

A few weeks ago, I attended the premiere of Sordid Lives: The Series (more on that later). The entire cast was present...including Beth Grant. In a sea of over the top performances from the likes of Leslie Jordan, Caroline Rhea, and Bonnie Bedelia, Grant easily steals the show. As the back-combed, chain-smoking, pill-popping Aunt Sissy, she's a marvel.

For those of you familiar with the work of Beth Grant you already know she's a national treasure. She shows up in character roles just about everywhere (from The Golden Girls to Speed to Pearl Harbor to Flags of Our Fathers to Little Miss Sunshine to Six Feet Under).

When she turns up in the last act of No Country For Old Men in a battered wig and thick Sophia Loren Collection eyeglasses, she singlehandedly steers the somber film into semi-camp terrritory. When she declares: "I'm just filled up with that cancer!" you can't help but laugh despite yourself.

My friend Patty recently got into an argument with someone regarding Ms. Grant. Evidently, Grant appears in a current insurance commerical.

PATTY: Beth Grant in a commercial? That's a crime.

BYSTANDER: I'm pretty sure no one knows who she is.

PATTY: Can it, bitch. Beth Grant is a star.

To confirm Patty's thesis, below is Beth Grant in Donnie Darko delivering the best line of any film this decade:

"Sometimes I doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion."

Monday, July 28, 2008

Up My Alley (Or, Men in Film)

For no good reason...other than I am a sucker for film stills....Men in Film.


Pink Is The New Lurid (Or, The Big Little Missus)

I still have to do a last-two-weeks-in-rewind post...but in the meantime:

Today on the street I saw what appeared to be an 80 year old woman wearing a skin-tight, bright pink tank top that read:


I had to do a double take to make sure it wasn't Cameron Diaz.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Enough Is Enough Is Enough (Or, Illustration Friday)

Here's my timely submission to last week's Illustration Friday. The topic was Enough.

Click on the bitch for a larger, mo' better version.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Golden (Or, Sluts Heal Faster)

Over a year ago, I was at a dinner party full of fags and there was a heated debate over Estelle Getty's death. Someone at the party was absolutely convinced that she had died. I argued that she was still alive. I aruged on and on and on until I was blue in the face and someone else at the party had the good sense to jump on IMDB and stop the insanity.

I was right that Estelle Getty was still alive.

I'm sad to report that the loser of last year's dinner party know-it-all battle would today be a winner.

Estelle Getty died yesterday.

I'm sure every and all gay blog will have a tribute, so I will quit while I'm sort of ahead. I will drop my favorite line of hers from The Golden Girls:

Blanche is deeply wounded after being unceremoniously dumped by a boyfriend. Dorothy consoles Blanche for a tender minute or two. Blanche suddenly leaps to her feet, confident in her own unwavering beauty, and rushes out the door to find a new man.

After the abrupt exit, Sophia says:

"'s like I always say: sluts heal faster."

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Sugar Walls (Or, No Need)

Yes, yes, yes.

I'm here again typing: yes, yes, yes.

Over a posts...but shitloads of shit to say.

My lack of blogging actually has everything to do with lack of time...and nothing to do with lack of inspiration.

I don't have it in me to pull a week-in-reverse-move right now, so instead I will bring attention to a new beacon on my neighborhood's retail horizon:

A little store front that once housed a gay clothing store is now occupied by a women's lingerie shop.

I'd wax poetic on a possible insurgence of local M-to-F trannies, but I'm sure it has more to do with all the new Mommies and Me in my 'hood and their need to keep their shit tight....

(Yes, I can't leave that hanging) that their shit is saggin' and draggin'.

Anyway, the long lost point of all this about the lingerie store isn't my fairly obvious rage at the breeding machine that has taken hold of Lower Manhattan. The point is that said lingerie store has a camp factor that might be lost on its customers.

The store is called Sugar Cookie.

Are Prince and Sheena Easton back together?

Twenty-plus years after Prince gave Sheena her "Sugar Walls", they've reunited and have decided to take their interest in their own sweet science a step further. They've taken up sewing little tiny paisley printed thongs and bras and sweeten up...uh...some cookies.

I did laugh out loud when I first saw the store's signage. It reminded me of a story my friend Lucas used to tell about how once he thought his sister said "My cookie smells like Albuquerque" as she exited a restroom.

Sunday, July 13, 2008

Crocheted Bikini (Or, Privacy, Please)

Overheard yesterday at the local dog run:

WOMAN ON CELL PHONE SANS SHAME AND NEED FOR PRIVACY: ...I'm totally so hungover. Yeah. I'm just walking the dog now. Last night was insaaane. Totally. ...I figure later on I'll just go to the bar at the Chelsea Hotel - you know, the place where that Sid Vicious thing happened. I live, like, a block away from there. It's so cool. Anyway, I'll just go there and chat some guy up and have him get me high. What? Oh, yeah, I do that shit all the's cool.

(ten endless minutes of chit-chat later...)

Oh God...I got this amazing crocheted bikini and I was at the Jersey shore and they had one of those photo booths. I took all these pictures. I'll totally scan them and send you them - I look so fucking hot!


I tried and tried to get away from her side of this endless cell phone conversation. I moved three times, which only seemed to amplify her voice. When I finally left the park, I thought I'd be free of the crocheted stoned bikini talk...but, alas, no. She left two seconds after me, so I was stuck with her for an entire avenue block. I kept hoping she'd notice I was listening so she'd pipe down a little, but every time I caught her eye, she got louder.

Hell, her phone probably wasn't even on.

Three...(Or, Sing Me Spanish Techno)

I'm always happy to let my fingers travel down random (and not-so-random) YouTube paths...

Here's the video for my favorite song of Summer, 2005 - The New Pornographers' "Sing Me Spanish Techno".

While I really enjoy these latter days of a television without music videos (which can free the mind to create its own imagery for songs), I was thrilled to find this one...the narrative rocks and takes the best turn it could possibly have taken.


Saturday, July 12, 2008

Foggy Fog (Or, Illustration Friday)

Above is my submission to this week's Illustration Friday...topic: Foggy.

Not much is foggier than Jeanne Moreau wandering the streets of 1950s Paris...

I took the background photograph of the Arc de Triomphe with a plastic Holga camera in 1996. The film sat in a drawer undeveloped until a few years ago.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

I Love Lasagna (Or, Violet, I Think She's Stoned)

I have gone on and on and on about the merits and joys of a barely seen film called Smiley Face. It's directed by Gregg Araki...and stars the always hilarious Anna Faris. It's about a day in the life of a stoner...and I was beside myself when I saw it.

Above is my favorite section...which is - hands down - the best filmed example of the stoned mind at work. Oh, how the minor wanderings of the mind spiral to peaks of true genius.

Er...rather...supposed genius.


And, yeah, I totally now have a framed picture of President Garfield in my apartment...because...I love lasagna.

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

All Up On Top Of Me (Or, Ankle Water)

Overheard on the street over the weekend - after a big rainstorm...

WOMAN ON BICYCLE: Frankieeeee...I said slow the fuck down. You drove through dat mothafuckin' puddle and you splashed water all up on top of me. Look at my fuckin sneakas...they is ruined.

FRANKIEEEEEE: Shut the fuck up.

WOMAN ON BICYCLE: You know you ain't gettin' none now...splashin water all up on top of me an shit.

The next day, this incident came back to I splashed water all up on top of me in the shower.

I kept quiet though.

I didn't want to upset Frankieeeee again.

Monday, July 07, 2008

Tell Everyone (Or, The Best American Summer Movie Is...French)

I just saw what I already know will be my favorite movie of the summer...Tell No One (Ne le dis à personne)'s actually the best American film of the summer...even though it's French.

A splashy yet highly unpredictable car-chase-and-who-done-it- twisting-until-the-end thriller, Tell No One simply rocks - I can't even write about it properly...I just want to run back down to Houston Street and see it again.

It's American in content - but entirely European in execution...Hollywood would have messed it up something good.

It also stars a favorite actress of mine (Marie-Josée Croze) that I have a massive hetero crush on...I'd cross the Kinsey scale for her in a heartbeat.

Saturday, July 05, 2008

Five Tings (Or, Freezerburn)

A while back, I thought the always wonderful ModFab had gone into a blog deep freeze...yet today I was happy to find the site totally fresh and in season. To celebrate MF's freshness, I swiped its 5 Things Meme and thunked out my answers:

5 jobs I have had:
- Grocery Bag Packer
- Landscaper
- Library Cataloger
- Photographer's Assistant
- Graphic Designer (can't seem to shake that one)

5 movies I can watch over and over:
- Blade Runner
- Showgirls
- Bad Education
- Notes on a Scandal
- Body Heat

5 places I have lived:
- Kent, OH
- Annandale-on-Hudson, NY
- Parikia, Paros, Greece
- Boston, MA
- New York, NY

5 TV shows I love:
- Ladette to Lady
- The Minor Accomplishments of Jackie Woodman
- Squidbillies
- In Treatment
- Anything on Ovation

5 places I have been on vacation:
- Paris, France
- Berlin, Germany
- Reykjavik, Iceland
- Tulum, Mexico
- Negril, Jamaica

5 of my favorite meals:
- Sashimi
- Currywurst
- Steak Frites
- Anything of the beachshack variety (Lobster Roll, Fried Clams, etc. etc. etc.)
- Ribs, Ribs, Ribs

5 places I would rather be now:
- Berlin
- Barcelona
- Mykonos (or any of the Cyclades)
- Tokyo
- Curaçao

Friday, July 04, 2008

Au Revoir, Les Cochons (Or, Fo Rent)

Much has been said and said and said and said and said and said and said and said and said about the closing of Florent, the landmark restaurant in the Meatpacking District. I won't launch into a history of the place (which seems even more unnecessary now that the place has already been reopened - practically unchanged - as R&L Restaurant), but I do feel compelled to cough up my favorite story from dining there.

It actually happened a few months ago, right when the rumors of Florent's closing were confirmed as truth. My friend Torrey and I heatedly began plotting as many meals there as we possibly could. In March, we went for a late lunch/brunch on a Saturday and sat at the counter. We both ordered entrees and decided to share an order of French Toast. I can't handle sweet breakfasts straight-up...but I will take a syrupy chaser to a savory meal.

After our orders came, we asked our waiter for the usual selections of condiments (ketchup, mayo, butter, pats of butter, sticks of butter, etc.). The waiter brought everything to us on a little side plate...and greasy culinary heaven awaited.

As I tore into my cheeseburger, Torrey grabbed the little tub of butter from the side dish and started prepping the French Toast, slathering each slice with creamy fatty goodness.

"Omigod...this butter is amazing. It's so creamy. It's going everywhere - I love it."

I looked over and was similarly taken aback by this miracle butter. It really had covered the toast with little effort.

"This shit is genius," Torrey continued. "What is it? Pre-melted or softened or something. It's amazing."

Halfway through my burger - ready to kick it up a notch with a fistful of fries - I started poking around the side plate for the as-requested mayonnaise.

I didn't see it...but I did see a huge pile of individually wrapped lil tiny pats of butter.

"Oh, shit."

"What's wrong?" Torrey asked.

"Well, there's a lot more butter here...and apparently no mayo."

We both looked in unison at the empty "miracle" butter tub.

"Fuck. That wasn't butter."

"Guess not."

"Did I really just smear mayo all over the French Toast?" Torrey asked.

"Looks like it."

We made eye contact and in a single feverish beat, we made the simultaneous decision:

"I'm still going to eat it."

And, with that, we did.

After housing a cheeseburger and fries, Torrey and I ate the French Toast...with Mayo.

But...don't worry.

We also drowned the bitch in maple syrup.

Bye, Bitch (Or, Happy Birthday, America)

Jesse Helms - U.S. Senator, Art-Hater, Gay-Hater, Diversity-Hater, and all around Un-American Asswipe - left the planet today.

Yes, the manbitch died.

So...take your pick: rejoice in some schadenfreude today at the loss of one of the 20th Century's worst Americans...or celebrate a little birthday gift to our country.

Thursday, July 03, 2008

Mirror (Wo)Man (Or, Overheard on the Street)

(POSSIBLY) BITCHY WOMAN: I can't BELIEVE she called me a bitch. Fuck her and those lousy outfits of hers. I AM NOT A BITCH. How many times to I have to tell her that. She always makes me yell at her. God, she's a cunt. I can't believe she called ME a bitch when everyone hates her. Everyone does hate her...don't they?


Tuesday, July 01, 2008

Yes, She Really Says "Dali Lama" (Or, Titastic Tuesday)

I just came across this today...the video for Dolly Parton's recent single for "Better Get to Livin'". What's better than Amy Sedaris in this (um...I'm still on the floor), is that Dolly rhymes her own name with and references the Dali Lama.

Meta never metastasized so good.