Wednesday, July 30, 2008
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
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
Click on the bitch for a larger, mo' better version.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
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:
"Well...it's like I always say: sluts heal faster."
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Yes, yes, yes.
I'm here again typing: yes, yes, yes.
Over a week...no 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)
...now 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 panties...to 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
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 time...it'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.
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
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 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.
And, yeah, I totally now have a framed picture of President Garfield in my apartment...because...I love lasagna.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
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 me...as 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
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
5 jobs I have had:- Grocery Bag Packer
- Library Cataloger
- Photographer's Assistant
- Graphic Designer (can't seem to shake that one)
5 movies I can watch over and over:
- Blade Runner
- 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
- 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:
- Steak Frites
- Anything of the beachshack variety (Lobster Roll, Fried Clams, etc. etc. etc.)
- Ribs, Ribs, Ribs
- Mykonos (or any of the Cyclades)
Friday, July 04, 2008
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.
"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."
"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.
We also drowned the bitch in maple syrup.
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
(POSSIBLY) BITCHY WOMAN'S FRIEND: [shrugs silently]
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
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.