Archive for May, 2011

Some of Us Are Born Stars

Tuesday, May 24th, 2011

Okay, enough already. My dog needs a website.

Scratch that. I just bought him a website:

What he needs now are people all over the world wearing t-shirts with his image on it…for $27.99 each. And an agent. And definitely some lucrative contracts to sell dog food or life insurance or whatever you’ve got.

And I think it could happen. I do. I am becoming increasingly convinced of his ability to pay his own way, and then some.

Where do I get my unreasonable confidence, you ask?

Well, just look at this photo and lay all your concerns to rest. Clearly my boy was born to do Hertz commercials…or at least be featured in an Alaskan Malamute calendar. I haven’t seen form like that since Nadia Comaneci.

Happy Alaskan Malamute

This is quite possibly the best photo I have ever taken.


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A nice little song for the end of the world

Friday, May 20th, 2011

For better or worse, I expect tomorrow to be like every other day. In other words, I will be truly shocked if The Beast really does show up at 6pm. On the upside, I will be in the town in which I’d first appear in if I were The Beast: the modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah of Las Vegas. Maybe that’s not an upside, but at least I’ll realize it’s really going down nice and early, and be able to get a jump on my repenting.

So anyway, the song: ‘Society’ by Eddie Vedder.

This is off the 2007 Into the Wild Soundtrack which has been deciding to play itself a lot lately while my iPod is in random mode. The song ‘Rise’ got the most radio play, but I think this one is my favorite: it’s so sad and sweet.

Assuming we’re all still here, Eddie Vedder has a new album coming out – Ukele Songs – at the end of the month. I like the ukelele. It reminds me of Hawaii. Maybe I’ll have to learn how to play it one of these days? Anyone know if it’s much different from the guitar (which I can play)?

It’s a beautiful day here and I need to run some errands, so that’s it for this post. Enjoy your Rapture…or not. For better or worse, I’ll still be here, and I’m hopeful the world will carry on as it always has: messed up, sad, depraved, disappointing and yet somehow impossibly beautiful.



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Bad news, bad news, bad news, good news!

Thursday, May 19th, 2011

It’s kind of like duck, duck, goose…only with news. (and don’t worry, Mom: ‘bad’ is relative. It’s more like sigh, sigh, sigh, yay!)

Woman driving

I share this only to make my point. The defense rests.

Bad news #1: I keep getting these little eruptions (okay, pimples. Let’s just call it what it is: zits, acne, whiteheads, pustules, pimples) right below my mouth on the left side. (Cry to the heavens:  ***I’m TOO OLD for this shit! You can’t saddle me with wrinkles, white hairs, and zits simultaneously!***)  This has been going on for months and months: maybe even a year. Otherwise, I have great skin. I really do. I have the kind of skin that people comment on. I have great skin EXCEPT for the angry red area by my mouth. I put all this teenage zit cream on it and sometimes, accidentally overdo it to the point that the whole situation dries out like the Atamaca Desert. You can’t win for losing:  basically it’s irritated and angry no matter what, and I notice it in almost every picture of myself and it pisses me off.

Bad news #2: Apparently some people develop a sensitivity to flouride and exposure causes ‘acne-like eruptions.’ So probably my Sonicare – seeing as I tend to spray the mirror with bits of toothpaste whenever I use it – is in part to blame, but also, it’s quite likely that…

Bad new #3: I drool in my sleep. So not only am I gross, but I’m saturating my chin in flouride-rich slobber, thus causing these zits anew on a nightly basis.

Las Vegas at night

Vegas, Baby! Vegas!

Good news at last! It sounds like if I switch to non-flouride toothpaste (Toms of Maine, Kiss my Face), then I can drool it up and my skin will remain happy and non-red. My teeth may fall out, but my skin will look good.

So what else?

The weather is wonderful (70s and sunny all day today and tomorrow) and then I head to Vegas Saturday morning for a friend’s 40th birthday celebration. I was hoping for madcap Hangover-like events, but seeing as she’s made 7pm reservations at Maggiano’s Little Italy (isn’t there one of those pretty much everywhere???), well….not so much. I suppose we’ll also try on sensible shoes and maybe attempt to get Barry Manilow’s autograph. Clearly she’s running toward her middle age with open arms…but that’s fine because it’s HER birthday.

Negril, Jamaica

The worst vacation of my life was in Jamaica – not at Hedonism II, although I did spend some time in Negril – and I have vowed never to return. So, in other words, I was just kidding.

No, no. I don’t need to eat at L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon or go shopping or dancing or having a girl’s weekend that’s actually all girls (her British husband, although a very nice man, will be there fucking that up), because it’s HER BIRTHDAY. So this is the mantra that will hopefully keep my annoying and slightly disgruntled self in line while we’re watching the Bellagio water show for the tenth time or suffering through anything having to do with Cirque du Soleil: it’s HER BIRTHDAY.

And someday, when I turn 40, we’re all going to Hedonism II and taking ruffies and all my suffering in silence will be worth it…





I may not starve after all! I have a sponsor, and from time to time you will see the links. If you live in the UK and are looking for furniture, here ya go: The Furniture Market.

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Poor Roger Ebert looks rather horrific these days

Monday, May 16th, 2011

That’s neither here nor there – and only vaguely correlative to the upcoming delights in this post – but doesn’t he? I don’t know much about thyroid cancer except I DO NOT WANT IT. No, thyroid cancer, no! Bad cancer! Down! Off! Bad!

Roger Ebert.

Holy shit.

According to some article in Esquire, it (via a surgery obviously) took away Roger’s ability to talk, eat, and drink. Pretty much the only reason I get out of bed every day – and keeping me off the edges of super tall bridges – is the pleasure derived from eating, talking, and drinking. Anyway, kudos to Roger for keeping a pistol out of his misshapen mouth. God knows I may not be so courageous.


In other news, on the flight back from the Deep South (I’ve been gone literally, thus my blog-related disappearance. That and a general lack of anything useful to say). So anyway, on the flight the in-flight magazine had these little synopses of upcoming new releases, so I though I’d share with you for your entertainment planning purposes…with slight edits. (My comments in brackets.)

THE BEAVER (groan): Jodie foster directs and stars opposite Mel Gibson (double groan) who will speak only with a beaver puppet on his hand (Are you f*cking kidding me? Insufferable. I’d rather make out with Roger Ebert.)


MIDNIGHT IN PARIS (perhaps): In Woody Allen’s (yes!) latest film, Owen Wilson (no, no, no!) finds magic (still no) as he wanders through the city of lights (Is every city the city of something? What’s Cleveland?.)


EVERYTHING MUST GO (if you say so): Will Ferrell (meh.) plays a relapsed alcoholic who loses his job and gets kicked out of the house (so it’s a feel-good movie, I take it), only to spend four days on the front lawn trying to sell all of his possessions. (Why do funny people feel the need to “stretch”? Play a grown man who thinks he’s an elf or a drunken fool streaking all by himself, and we’re behind you all the way. Force us to endure two hours of you playing an aging comic unable to connect with audiences, and we’ll come after you like a pack of wolves.)

Not even on video. Not even on an airplane with a dead computer battery and no iPod. Perhaps, however, with a gun to my head...

Happily, I think these are some damn positive signs that I might actually be able to sell a movie script. Hell, my dog might be able to sell a movie script.

I just proposed the following as a book concept and got shot down, but maybe it would work on the big screen?


Tragicomedy about a woman with a shoe fetish who gets addicted to snorting bath salts (or whatever it is they do with them) and accidentally chews off her own feet. There can be a lovable mutt too. And maybe a sexy neighbor who’s both sympathetic and totally grossed out.


(If you ask me, it’s the kind of role Natalie Portman or Ann Hathaway could really sink their teeth into. Yuk yuk yuk!)


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So Are the Days of Our Lives

Monday, May 2nd, 2011

Here’s a bunch of random stuff from my phone from the last couple weeks that I really should delete.

I am sharing it with you so that those things that briefly fascinated me (or seemed to hold enough potential that I was moved to take a picture at that time, but then that was all that ever happened) are not lost to the world.

Bask in the wonderment of it all.

Vacuuming the street

Unlike the dog, it knows to wait until the little green guy appears.


Some days I like to take my vacuum cleaner out for a walk. It enjoys the exercise, and I appreciate the quiet time together.

Vacuuming outside

Just your average day: on a stroll with the wet vac.

I’m just kidding. The dog keeps lifting his leg (indoors) and I had to buy a steam cleaner off Craigslist. I talked the lady into bringing it to me…sort of. She agreed to meet, so long as it was an exit of I-5. Thus, I had to walk up there and then drag it through town and back to the apartment where I commenced an exciting afternoon of wetting down and sucking up urine stains. A$$hole. He’s damn lucky he’s so cute.

Adorable Malamute

He's turning Japanese. I really think so.

See what I mean? He’s so stinking cute. And looking a bit Asian in this photo. And that’s the root of the problem: who can really stay mad at a face like that???


I love Pho

I love Pho, and - clearly - Pho loves me.

I think the waiter at the Vietnamese place was trying to tell me something…

Lady Gaga hasn't thought of this yet. Or has she?


If you had your choice between wearing a Hefty Heavy Duty Trash Bag in public and getting wet…wouldn’t you just get wet? Yeah. Me too.


Babies shouldn't drink alcohol.

This is from a book in my office. It makes me laugh AND it's sound advice.

See caption. I pretty much told you all there is to tell you on this one.

Toilet stall graffiti

Bathroom stall wisdom.

This was from the bathroom stall at El Corazon, taken the night my friend Karen performed there. I was – roughly – three beers along when it seemed like a good idea to photograph this.

Alaskan Malamute destructive

Simple pleasures.

Admit it: who doesn’t enjoy tearing the crap out of a cardboard box?

Discarded neck tie

Damn, that's an ugly necktie.

This necktie was discarded in the stairwell, and I briefly thought maybe it was another pineapple in the elevator moment. But then I took a better look at the photo and realized this was not that in the least.

It’s still there, by the way, if you’re interested.

Crazy person's house

I did not know this.

Sometimes insane people identify themselves by covering their homes in signs preaching excess craziness. I find this not only considerate, but helpful. Cross this guy off the trick or treating list…

Lady feeding pigeons and seagulls

This lady chaps my hide.

This is the pigeon and seagull (equal opportunity) feeding lady, because who doesn’t love a swarm of overfed, avian jumbo jets spewing crap from the sky? Plus she always acts like the dog is the Anti-Christ when he goes after the bread chunks and scares off the poop bombers, thus proving that in the battle for his soul, the angels are currently winning. At least at the moment…

Seal point Himalayan

Me and the rarely-photographed Fu, partly because he doens't like it and partly because - let's face facts here - his face is really dark and doesn't exactly photograph well.

Me and my monkey cat. No doubt he’s considering how hard he’ll need to claw me before I’ll get the camera out of his face and put him down. “I’ll cut you, lady! I’ll cut you!”


Carpet cleaner in a crosswalk

If anyone ever Googles "Carpet cleaner in a crosswalk" and then selects images, I hope at least this one ranks high.

It’s like the Abbey Road album cover, only with superior sound quality: I propose  00:47:26 of the sound of a vacuum cleaner running would be more pleasant.

Oh, wait. I just looked it up and “Here Comes the Sun” is on that album. I take that back: they’d be equally pleasant.

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