Thursday, April 29, 2010

Oh, Billyburg (Or, Smoking)


This morning, I had the completely unfortunate thrill of riding the subway deep into the sweltering, useless ass of Bushwick, Brooklyn (Fuck you very much, FedEx Ground). On the interminable ride back, I was made painfully aware of just how middle-aged I am as the L Train (a.k.a. Fauxhemian Express) plummeted its way through various levels of hipster hell.

See, I'm not impressed by unkempt middle-class girls on the lam reading poetry books and listening to MGMT on their iPods loud enough for the entire car to hear fronting looks that hopelessly read "trying-hard-to-be-depressed-1980s-teen" and not "yeah-I'm-a-cool-girl".

Sorry Becky - you've got about 10 minutes left on this ride before daddy cuts off the cash and it's time for law school.

Anyway, this exchange made my trip:

HIPSTER CHICK: What the fuck is her job, anyway?

FAUXHEMIAN DUDE: She's, like, a model.

HIPSTER CHICK: Yeah...she's, like, really skinny.

FAUXHEMIAN DUDE: Bony.

HIPSTER CHICK: And what the fuck does her boyfriend do?

FAUXHEMIAN DUDE: From what I can tell, all he does is, like, smoke cigarettes outside of bars.

HIPSTER CHICK: Cool.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Love Is Like A Rock (Or, Skinny Little Bitch)


You stepped your heels in broken glass
So I could kick your scrawny ass
And all the drugs and all the burns
What a nasty
What a nasty, nasty piece of work
Oh baby does it hurt
Oh baby just go slower
Oh baby just go lower
Skinny little bitch.

Ladies and gentlemen...Courtney Love has stumbled back into the building.

Hole's new album Nobody's Daughter comes out Tuesday...and Ms. Love is working her whole Hole magic like it was 1994...or 1998. Either way, I'm glad she scraped herself together for something that - at first listen - sounds smoky, messed--up, and excellent.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Property Of (Or, New York Annoyances Part 1,899)


Just before a rain shower last week, I hurried to get my dog out the door to do his bidness. (He loathes the rain.) Anyway, as dark clouds rolled in, Bobo finally whizzed his heart out on the side of a building. Toward the end of said whiz, I could feel the clammy breath of a New-Yorker-In-Need-Of-A-Fight on the back of my neck.

NEEDY UPPITY MAN: Um....could you PLEASE not have your dog PEE on MY BUILDING?

ME: It's going to rain in a minute.

NEEDY UPPITY MAN: CAN'T HE PEE SOMEWHERE ELSE? Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks.

Yes, there were that many passive aggressive "aaaaaaaaaa"s in his Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks.

Luckily, the rain came down before I could get into it with her.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Strange Days (Or, Traffic)


I should stop doing this...looking up the search engine queries that led folks here used to be fun...but now it's just plain scary. Here's what went down this week:

Catch Phrase for Inhalants

Monster Fucker

Male Midget Escorts

Jerri Blank Chained to a Radiator

Midget Male Photos
Pube Home Perm

Janay Mitchell Starvin' Marvin

Venus in Gemini Slut

Not My First Time at the Rodeo

Oh, That Moon Is Bright!

Red Sonja (Or, Countlessness)

So, yes, I've admitted it here before: I'm obsessed with The Real Housewives of New York. I thought I had said the (ok, little) I needed to say about said obsession...until last week when Sonja Morgan was thrown into the mix as the latest hausfrau. Her entrance made it entirely clear that - as over-the-top gay as this show is - the show can indeed stand to get gayer. (Why Logo is even bothering with their "Gay Househusbands" show is a mystery...they will never be able to outgay this show.)

Anyway, Sonja is sexualized, drag-queen-hilarious ("I'm the straw that stirs the drink"), 10x more fashionable than any of the other ladies, and, most importantly, she is rich. She's rich like these other wives wish they could be. She's rich like these other wives pretend they are...but so clearly aren't. Note the following exchange between Sonja and the Countess (who with every passing episode is becoming more and more common...enough with the outsized turquoise necklaces already):

COUNTESS: Did you have time to find some things to donate from your closet?

SONJA: Well, there's the Palm Beach closet and the Colorado closet and the Miami closet...

COUNTESS: Oh.

SONJA: I'll just have the housekeeper throw everything into the elevator.

COUNTESS: (quaking with jealousy) You have an elevator? In your townhouse?

In 15 seconds flat, Lady Morgan made a French Countess look like a toothless hillbilly.

Throughout the episode, the Countess tried to work her passive aggressive magic on Lady M - to no avail:

COUNTESS: Oh, Sonja. I love your Judith Leiber belt. It is Judith Leiber, isn't it?

SONJA: It's Chanel.

For a second, I felt like Jennifer Saunders was ghostwriting the episode...Sonja just needs to drop a few "sweeties" and "darlings" into the mix and she'll be ready for Tallulah Bankhead-like camp immortality.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Diggity Dog (Or, Please Return to Your Red State)

Overheard yesterday on the subway:

FLORIDIAN MAN 1: Christopher Street? I hear that's where all the faggot bars are.

FLORIDIAN MAN 2: How you know that?

FLORIDIAN MAN 1: Dunno. Faggots.

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 1: Oh, Christ. We was drunk last night! I don't even 'member the flight in from Lauderdale.

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 2: Shit, I know it girl! WOOOOOO!

FLORIDIAN MAN 1: Then 'member we ate them hot dogs and sammiches off that guy on the street.

FLORIDIAN MAN 2: Right. That was expensive. We paid 'bout twenty bucks for those hot dogs and sammiches.

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 1: Oh man...that hot dog was gooooooooooooood.

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 2: Yeah, it was hot too. That hot dog was hotttt! Woooooo!

FLORIDIAN MAN 1: What are we goin' drink tonight? Whiskey?

FLORIDIAN MAN 2: Beer.

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 1: Beer.

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 2: Beeeeeer! WOOOOOO! NEW YORK CITY!!!

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 1: I can't even believe we is here.

FLORIDIAN MAN 1: Where the fuck is the Statue of Liberty? We got to git off at Rectum Street.

FLORIDIAN MAN 2: Rectum?

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 1: This subway car is moving too fast!

FLORIDIAN WOMAN 2: I know. It's like a ride at Universal Studios! WOOOOOO!

They got off at Rector Street. Hopefully they got lost and jumped by a roving gang of Financial District Faggots.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Bonnet Up On It (Or, Poor Glenn)

A recap of recent events (OK, here's the Easter shizz I promised last week but got too caught up in the countdown to tax return deadline...goddammit):

I was running down a list of the celebrities I see at my gym for my mother. After saying "Tate Donovan", my mom had a confused look on her face. I qualified Tate's place on the list by saying:

"You know, the male lawyer on Damages."

"Glenn Close goes to your gym too?"

After not-really-accidentally taking over Easter dinner cooking duties from my mother, I asked her opinion a couple of times:

"Is the ham done?"

No response.

"Are the potatoes OK?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"Do you want to taste them?"

She just shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't know why I asked you." I replied to the shrug. "You don't eat this shit anyway...you'll just have your usual Boca Burger and cigarette."

I was waiting for a punch to the arm. Instead I got another shrug and:

"Can you open another bottle of wine?"

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Hetero Hilarity (Or, Fight Club)

An interchange I witnessed Saturday morning between a (straight, male) pedestrian and a (straight, male) motorist at a traffic light on the West Side Highway:

MOTORIST DUDE: Watch where you're going, dick.

PEDESTRIAN DUDE: Fuck you.

MOTORIST: Really? Fuck. You.

PEDESTRIAN: Oh, you're trying to impress your boyfriend by picking a fight with me, huh? Oh...sorrrrrrrrrrry. I didn't realize that thing in the passenger seat is a chick.

MOTORIST: Oh, yeah big man - you realllly want to fight me?

PEDESTRIAN: Or is it a chick with a dick? You like sucking cock?

MOTORIST (opening his car door, ready to pounce): Come here so I can kick the shit out of you.

PEDESTRIAN: I would, but I'm too busy feeling sorry for you. You have to stick your dick in that thing. I'm sorry, honey, but he's out of your league.

MOTORIST: I GOT KIDS IN HERE, PRICK!! FUCK YOU!! STOP FUCKING TALKING ABOUT MY MOTHERFUCKING WIFE LIKE THAT!

PEDESTRIAN: I didn't see those trolls in the back seat. Sorrrry!

As compelled as I was to slow down and soak it all in (Trolls! Chicks with dicks! In front of the children!), I was hoofing it to the gym and the rest of the exchange trailed out of range. I did turn around a couple of times to see if the motorist ever got out to throttle the far wittier pedestrian.

He didn't.

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Thursday, April 08, 2010

And So This Is Easter (Or, Jebus Who?)

Ok, fine. So this ain't no story.

This is however The Importance Of Easter in four pictures: flowers, chocolate, Peeps (which I love to look at, but hate to eat), and more flowers. I should have also rolled out the Easter ham for some glamour shots, but that porkass bitch was feeling shy - her brown sugar glaze was not so ready for the wind machine, the close up, the retouching. Maybe she'll roll herself out for Christmas time (Jebus loves a ham, goddammit!) for some staged Paparazzi photos of her running to the grocery store in sweatpants and a baseball cap...trying to look casual holding out her Starbucks cup - logo forward.

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Tootastic (Or, Behind)

I have deliciously unreal stories of my Easter weekend spent with candy and ham and candy and ham and more ham and italian food and candy, but I have yet to get my shit together...and lately when that happens, I toot uncontrollably. The toot in this case is a site I just redid/reworked/remodeled - www.smith80.com (which was what suited.com used to be) which has been sitting and idling with old content for some time now. Anyway, it's updated with new work and rehashed old work - in general, it's the same deal with a new new face.

So, here's to smith80's plumper cheekbones and smoother forehead...and sorry I tooted.