This is Where I Long to be, La Isla Bonita

Here I am in my new apartment on Central Park West, enjoying a foot rub from my brilliant man-servant Toto and drinking a bottle of my favorite wine, Sutter Home White Zinfandel (I developed a taste for SHWZ during my week-long training at The Olive Garden in Times Square when I was 18, during which we spent the long leisurely afternoons doing food+wine pairing with various delicacies e.g., lasanga, and I would get super smashed), snorting a few lines of some premium cocaine while my other man-servants toss fine Californian grapes into my eager mouth from vantage points in my luxurious penthouse (like snipers, but with fruit not bullets). Though Bed, Bath and Beyond PROMISED my SHWZ-spouting fountain would be arriving today, it's not here!

PSYCH! or, as i spelled it when people still used that word: SIKE!!

I'm at Haviland's. After a delightful morning of packing and packing and sweeping and packing, we hiked up to my new place to find that my room was not only still occupied, but like--not even anywhere near the layer of reality we know as "about to start packing." It was more like "someone is actively living in this room with no intent to vacate any time in the near future." and also "this someone is Messy McMesserson."

So we put all my stuff in another room, and I guess I'll move in on Saturday when this girl will actually be gone.

LUCKILY one amazing thing happened which is that I found a mattress on craigslist and it was only like, two blocks away.

Then I left my cell phone at the apartment where I picked up the mattress (p.s. me and hav guessed she was a lesbian and she totally answered the door in an HRC shirt! HOLLA!). Which I can't get til Saturday....so basically um--

Hey check this out. right now i'm watching the MTV VMAs. yeah, that's right, i'm 14. i'm drinking Clearly Canadian and eating cheez-its, too.

So I wrote this essay to get my nerve internship 1.5 years ago called "Why Shane is the new Jordan Catalano." And right now, I MUST point out that um, apparently I am pretty much a um--seer? future-teller. Whatever, they are TWINS now! And my essay didn't even say they looked the same it was about their 'tudes. (that's cool-lingo for attitudes)

So anyhow. I have no phone and no apartment and still no boyfriend to carry heavy objects, even though I put out a call last week. But at least I have my dear friend Haviland. Who, I might add, actually helped me carry the mattress two blocks (by then the movers, who did everything while we did nothing, had already left), although she needed to stop for Gatorade and motivational encouragement like in the NY marathon. JK about the Gatorade, though I had some last night. It was FIERCE flavor, and I thought it might help my overall disposition.

But Some Sunday Morning, I'll Wake Up From a Dream, and Wonder if You Miss Me

On the 31st, as I discussed in my prior entry, I will be leaving the stylish armies of scrawny boys in skinny jeans & impossibly short and slim-legged girls with jet black hair and cherry-printed purses for the fine overflow of Columbia University we call Warlem, or Harlumbia (I'm coining a term here, like "fetch"). So today's Sunday Top Ten is split into two sections.

TOP FIVE THINGS I WILL MISS ABOUT BILLYBURG

10. All those jokes I make about the hipsters? I kinda love the hipsters. I kinda sometimes am one, except less hip, more "ster." I kinda love their outfits. And feeling safely flanked on my way home from the L at 3am by people wearing boot-stocking-"skirt" combos so ugly that no one would even bother to mug us. Like Dorothy says about Jerry Maguire: "I love him. I love him for the man he wants to be. And I love him for the man he almost is." And now Jerry Maguire is like, crazy and knocked up Joey Potter. So there's that.

9. Spoonbill & Sugartown Bookstore. Is Heaven. The cute notebooks. The used books. The zines. The front table of unpredictable and delightfully hipster oriented literature. I cannot possibly love this place more than I already do. (photo courtesy of urban 75.)

8. One time at Wendy's in Ohio, my grandmother saw me talking to a boy (who was telling me I still had the tag on my overall-shorts, this was 1992, p.s.) and was like 'Do you like him? Do you like his lookin's?' Imagine this in a cute Ohio accent and then imagine this: I like Williamsburg's lookings. I love the buildings and the cute stores and this feels like New York to me. Yes. There you go. Make fun of me! I hope to move back here some day, and I'm sad to leave it. Seriously! (seriously, I was just serious!)

7. When I go to coffee shops in Manhattan, I start having heart palpitations and anxiety as I watch all the seats fill up while I wait for my NOT COMPLICATED iced coffee (I really do not understand why this isn't something they can't give you right away at Starbucks, why this is something that requires a Label and a Wait at the Bar with the Anorexic Woman asking "is this skim? are you sure this is skim?" (sub parentheses/confession: that woman is me, 'cept i'm not anorexic, just neurotic.) ) thinking "Oh my God, I'm gonna have this drink and then nowhere to sit, where will I pull out my laptop, I dont' want to share a table with the entire Sunday New York Times and that creepy dude hiding behind it, holy fuck, oh my godomigod i shoulda gone somewhere else but where?!" There have been times I can't find a seat at my Brooklyn coffee shop of choice, but usually I can find a seat. And be safely flanked by an army of matching MacBooks.

6. This:



TOP FIVE THINGS I WILL NOT MISS ABOUT BILLYBURG:

5. this conversation with a cab driver:

me: I'm going to Brooklyn, Williamsburg, ****** (sorry stalkers, gonna x this one out. and by stalkers I mean my mother, who thinks that if I put any information about myself on the internet I will get stalked, which is an ignorant and problematic theory on many levels), it's the second stop off the Williamsburg bridge?
cabbie: Um, ok, you want me to take the Ulysses S. Grant ExpressLaneWay (or whatever)?
me: I want you to go whatever's fastest.
cabbie: So um, you'll be able to direct me when we get there? I don't really know my way around brooklyn.
me (glaring at the 'taxi riders bill of rights, convieniently located at primo glare-height): Isn't that like, your job? To know your way around New York City?
cabbie: Well, I do, I just don't know Brooklyn.
me:(to myself) Um, that's a lot of shit not to know. Maybe you should get a job at Duane Reade, where you can not know where the band-aids are. Or better yet, go to pharmacy school, become a pharmacist at Duane Reade, and then not know where my prescription is!!!!!!

4. This conversation:
me:Well, you could come out here.
"friend": Ugh. but you live in Brooklyn.
me:It's actually really close, you lazy asshole. Just close your eyes and imagine that you're still in Manhattan, and it'll take you a lot less time to get here than it would to any of the Manhattan neighborhoods where our friends can actually afford to live.
"friend": Ugh. fine. is the L train running?
me: (shamed) No. But you can take the J-M-Z.
"friend": (as though I have just told the "friend" to get to Brooklyn on the back of a swimming sadistic diseased donkey) the WHAT???

3. C-Town. Why do I always live so close to a goddamn C-Town and nowhere near another grocery shopping option? (This happened in Sparlem, too.) I swear their tomatoes are dustier than the top of my dresser. A girl needs more than Guava Cola to power her aching burning desires. Also the walk from Tod's is too long. And Suamac is overpriced.

2.No Delivery.com. For a phone phobic such as myself, I can endorse the fine services of this revolutionary website with full confidence. First of all, they honestly do check the orders and deliver them, which I tested many times at work AND you don't end up screaming "rice on the side!" to someone asking you "pineapple surprise?" They didn't have a lot of delivery.com in east harlem either (besides this one crazy Japanese-Chinese restaurant that will go anywhere, probably even to Astoria or another far-away land), but Sparlem has claimed to be many things and "good place to find steamed veggies" or "good place to find a salad with very detailed instructions for preparation and assembly" is not one of them.

1. Seriously. What the Fuck are they doing to the L Train? It took like, three weeks to fix up those crazy hoes on The Swan with big tits and straight teeth and like, 50 years to figure out how to get a man on the moon but they still haven't "fixed" The L Train when the only thing that needs to be "fixed" about the L Train is that it's NEVER RUNNING.
This isn't a new joke. But, you know, it's true?

Some of Them Want To Use You, Some of Them Want To Get Used By You

The graphic on the left is a timeline of Boys who Have Helped Me Move. As you can see, I've usually had a boy around--be he a boyfriend or a "close friend with a large Jeep who happens to be unemployed and lives across the street" or a "Whatever"--to help me when I move, which happens about every two minutes. Cuz I'm a Ramblin' Man, I'm a Desperado, etc. Also yes I am aware that Tolliver (cited as 'Mover: Ypsitucky 02') only weighs 135 pounds, but the thing about it is that even 135-pound boys (he was 6'4, p.s., so just kinda simmer on that ratio for a while) have something to prove which is that their souls weigh a lot more than 135 pounds and that they are not Wusses. The past few months have been unusually--but intentionally--free of what the grownups call a "steady gentleman caller," and I admit that I have enjoyed a respite from such things as the irrational fear of pregnancy and the magical sensation a woman feels in the morning when the remains of her A.M romp tumble from her cervix as she walks to work. But uh, right now, I could kinda use even an "un-married ex who lives in the tri-state area" or a "good male friend who happens to be unemployed and drives a large Jeep" or really, I mean, probably I would settle for any good male friend who will not be working from 9-5 on the 31st of august. We're not talking like a Melrose Place move or something, this is serious, it's from Williamsburg to Warlem (that's my new word for West Harlem), so like, obviously this situation is problematic. And don't tell me to look on CL for movers. I know. I know all about craigslist and I know all about tree trunks with posters on them too. But they aren't FREE. Or at least, like "just buy me dinner" free. I know that um, as a feminist or whatever, I'm supposed to think that I need men like fish need bicycles, which is funny because I did actually sell my bicycle today which I obviously need less than a man, but I have heavy stuff and men are just stronger than women. That's just how it is. Also I think if I had a really hard core butch lesbian friend, that might be good. I was thinking about that girl at the Lesbo White Party during Pride who told us we were pretty and most lesbians looked like John Goodman. That's what I need. A John Goodman kinda lesbian. This graphical collage of fun contains the biceps of myself, Hav and Lainy. I think the photograph speaks for itself. And also, one time I did move by myself, without any boys or butch ladies. That was when I ended up with a flat tire at 3am on the side of the road with a dead cellphone somewhere in New Jersey and was rescued by a man in a white van (which everyone knows is the vehicle that serial killers use) who said he was an ambassador of Allah, which was awesome because he changed my tire and didn't kill me. But then he called my cell phone about 20 times to see if he could become my gentleman caller once I moved into my NYC apartment. (I tried giving him a fake number but he tested it while I was there so I had to pretend it was a mistake) It's possible that much of this post could be considered un-P.C., but that's fine because I saw this thing on VH1 about how P.C. is over. I am still a feminist and I believe in human rights, religious freedom, and um, equality. Yup. Also "being a spoiled co-dependent asshole" is also Over, and is now considered "being cool." Update: I've hired movers. Which means that these guys are going to move all my shit while Hav and I eat Tasti-D-Lite and watch DirectTV. Any other friends without office jobs are welcome to join the party. We'll be listening to 'S.O.S' and Dolly Parton.

The One Where I Try to Watch Television, Hate It, Miss Old School MTV

I don't think I've fully watched a television program since like, 1998 (because I have to always be doing at least three things at once, and TV is so passive it's basically only half a thing anyhow, like eating), but I'm still fairly selective about my background entertainment. Since we just got cable (and I've been without cable since like, January), I've been trying to develop my new Top 8. This is me watching TV. You can't see my computer, crossword puzzle, magazine or dinner, but um, you can see visual evidence of me wasting time by taking photos of myself and making them into a comic strip starring myself.

Sometimes I pick a Top 8 for a certain show: (e.g., 50% of TNT's programming blows, but the other 50% is Law and Order) or just a general faith in that channel's programming (e.g., Bravo, The N, Oh! (yeah really, seriously, I'm endorsing that channel and I'm not embarrassed about that, except I'm a little embarrassed about the exclamation point)). MTV used to be my #1--unless it was claymation wrestling, the chances were pretty high that they'd be showing something relatively awesome. But apparently I'm like, either a hundred years old, or MTV is dumb.

OK, so, um, I just did a blog search and discovered it's MTV's 25th anniversary. I can't believe that actually even matters. Who Cares? Guess who else is having a 25th anniversary this year and doesn't have any relationship to Ashley Parker Angel, whoever that is? Yeah, that's right: ME. The 25th anniversary of my birth. HOLLA!

Wasn't it their 25th anniversary last year or like, the year before that? MTV is an Anniversary Whore. They're that lame couple that "celebrates" every freakin' anniversary on earth: "It's our one-month!", "It's the anniversary of our first kiss!" "It's our two-point-five month anniversary!" "It's the anniversary of when I met his parents!" "It's the anniversary of the first time he busted a nut in my eye!" bla bla bla bla ...

So anyways, as I look back at the last 25 years of my life (cause my b-day's in one month, exactly!), this is what I miss the most:

Beavis and Butthead: Putting your t-shirt over your head and saying "I am Cornholio, I need TP for my Bunghole" is STILL FUNNY.


Loveline: This is where I gained 75% of my early sexual education (the remaining 25% was provided by Seventeen and Our Bodies, Ourselves). I also learned that most sexual hangups or bizarre fetishes are a result of childhood trauma. Like having a Super Sweet 16.

The Tom Green Show: Um, before that awful movie, this guy was really funny and also he tought me some really important comic skills, e.g. poking your friends in the face while they're trying to talk.

Undressed: When you're 16 and you have insomnia and it's summertime and you live in Michigan, there is no better way to spend every single night between midnight and 5AM than watching an Undressed marathon. It needs to be on DVD ASAP. Plus it's super duper gay. It was gay before the Gays Took Over America (ha!).


I guess people are really into that Laguna Beach nonsense, but the kind of convos they have on that show are the exact convos I hear from 17-year-old biznatches in skinny jeans at the Bloomingdales Train Station (aka 59th street) that I turn up my ipod to block out.


Singled Out:Before every dumb bitch on TV started acting like Jenny McCarthy, there was Jenny McCarthy.

-True Life: Before They Ran Out of Topics and started doing "True Life: I Have a House on the Jersey Shore"
How many times did you see that one with the two dumb blonde girls who kept getting plastic surgery and always ate a lot of Chinese food the night before they went to the surgeon? That was awesome.

Why is Cribs still on? Who cares what kind of palm trees Beverly Mitchell has at her tropical pool? I'll tell you who: morons.

We all know "The Real World: Gammorah," which replaced the original TRW in like, 1999 (the original which involved seven people living in a house and having Coversations about Issues and Personality Conflicts), is mostly just about Sucking Face. I can't even handle watching it. For the first 10 years or so, the people weren't that dumb, but now they are almost all dumb.

Speaking of the real real world....STEPHEN IS THE NUMBER ONE HOTTIE IN PUBLISHING! Thanks for your votes, kiddos.

Sunday Top Ten Things I've Lost That I'd Like Back Please: Still it's Sunday Morning I Miss You the Most

I used to have this map called "Streetwise Manhattan," which I called my 'tourist map,' because I always thought if someone saw me use it in public they might mistake me for a Slow-Walking-Road-Blocking-Bumblefuck (aka a tourist), and so I have this special sneaky way of unfolding it within my bag so it looked like I was digging for chapstick when I was really looking for the closest place to get the V train (P.S: the answer is NOWHERE).

Um, so when my roommate's friend was in town two weeks ago, I decided to spread the joy I receive from this map by lending it to her. I don't think I'm getting it back, and I'm realizing how often I used that freakin' thing. So while I'm wandering through midtown like fuckin' Magellan, I'd like to go over some other things I would like returned to me please.


TOP TEN THINGS I WOULD LIKE BACK, PLEASE.

10. MY ILLINOIS T-SHIRT

It's orange. It was my Dad's. On the back it said "Asset."
Last Seen: Manhattan, July 2000
Suspect: Ryan Clayburn. Admitted once to re-possessing it, avoided all further queries on the topic.

9. BOB MARLEY: LEGEND (CD)
Last seen: In The Bravada, The Little SUV That Could, Summer 2003
Suspect: No Leads. In possession of empty case, however. Hoping to re-coop while some stoned asshole is looking the other way.

8. MY ABILITY TO SLEEP AT NIGHT


Last seen: 1988
Suspect: That freaky dude from the movie Willow. Prior to Willow, I was already a bit edgy because of the 1985 film Return to Oz, which is the scariest movie of all time and has these freaky villans called WHEELERS. I used to have nightmares that Willow/The Wheelers would come into my window and kidnap me.

7.1989 BASKETBALL PROGRAM: MICHIGAN V. IOWA, AUTOGRAPHED BY ALL MEMBERS OF THE NCAA CHAMPIONSHIP MICHIGAN BASKETBALL TEAM

Last seen: 2002
Suspect: My mother, who threw it out with a "big box of magazines" (aka my Leonardo DiCaprio collection) when she moved from our house to a little apartment.

6. MY F*%##'n DRIVERS LICENSE
Last seen: June 26, 2006
Suspect: Hopefully some 17 year old who got really drunk from it.
See my blog entry on the topic.

5. BANANA REPUBLIC FLEECE

Last seen: Spring 2000
Suspect: Unknown. Went missing along with other key items (see Illinois t-shirt) following my move out of 305 Amsterdam, which occurred under duress after Ryan (my BFF and roommate)'s friend Evan tried to kill me with a blowdryer. In August, Evan tried to kill Ryan with a broom. Where's my goddamn fleece, psycho?!
p.s. check out my hot motorcycle helmet in Geneva in that photo! OW!!


4. MY FUCKING TV-DVD COMBO
Last seen: January 2006
Suspect: Matty, who is currently snoring in my bed. I am going to poke him in the ear. I gave it to him when I moved 'cuz he was bored in his apartment all day (I was being altruistic) and then he gave it away when he moved!

3. PAM HOUSTON- "COWBOYS ARE MY WEAKNESS"
On the left you can see the copy that I no longer have, and I describe why it is better than the other two bookcovers. This is the best book ever, but don't judge a book by it's cover, y'all.

Last Seen: Winter 2000, University of Michigan
Suspect: Samara, my First U-Mich Best Friend and fellow hyperhidrosis sufferer. I lent it to her. I've since bought a replacement copy, but I really liked the old-school book cover on that copy and it's impossible to find now. This original cover reminds me of Jamie Delp's copy, and hers was the first one I read, and it changed my life forever, and I want it back.

2. FROSTED FLAKES T-SHIRT
Turquoise t-shirt, once worn by Lewis Bernard as a shirt-dress for sleep (when he was about three feet tall), then worn by Marie as a hipster t-shirt, then re-born as a torn-up sexy gym t-shirt by Nat. Might look better on her.
Last seen: On Natalie Raaber, 2005
Suspect: Natalie Raaber. In fairness; I currently possess two (2) C+C California tank tops and one (1) three-dots shirt that rightfully belong to NAR which I do not intend to return.
p.s. Nat i love you!


1. STEPHEN BARBARA'S LEAD IN THE "HOTTIES IN PUBLISHING" CONTEST

Last seen: 4pm, Thursday August 17th, 2006
Suspect: Douchebags.

It's your last night to find every computer you possibly can and vote for Rambo. As you can see in the photos, it was his 13th birthday last Thursday, so he really deserves this! Also clearly he is a ladies man--look at all of the hot chics at his fiesta!! Vote, assholes: mediabistro's hotties in publishing

In the Flesh Reading Recap: It's Amazing, When the Moment Arrives You Know It'll be Alright

In the Flesh. August 16. 8pm. Happy Endings Lounge.NY, NY.

What do the following people have in common?
1. Axl Rose
2. Steven Tyler
3. Marie Lyn Bernard
4 Joan Jett
5. Mick Jagger

It's pretty obvious. Um, they're all ROCK STARS!


Okay. Since I'm obviously only capable of writing at a fourth-grade-reading level in my blog ... read this instead. Then you will see I'm not kidding about being a rock star. I would talk about myself, but um, I'm much better at making fun of myself. Seriously. Okay, there was this reading and I read a story and I wrote it three days ago but it turned out quite well. The reading series is called "In the Flesh," and if you didn't go to the reading then Santa is giving you COAL this year. COAL. Yup.

Hav and I were hoping to have the cutest outfits there ... but check this out:
What you can't see in that photograph is that she is also wearing fishnets and cute heels. That photo is curteousy of brianvan. I cropped it though. To narrow your focus on the incredible cherry-theme. Look at his photos though. This guy knows what he is doing.

I'd like to also mention that I mentioned cherries in my story. And also it was not in reference to popping cherries. It was different. If you wanna know more about that, you're going to have to--as the Spice Girls would say--"get with my friends."

Some highlights...
(yeah, that's us again. Whee!)

That the cabbie dropped us off about four blocks from the reading, BUT totally right in front of Kristaaa!! Who was lost, per usual. You should see Krista and I lost together. That's a story....

Me: "I'm sorry, what did you say? I was watching Lily run her hands over her fishnets."
Haviland: "Um, yeah!"

Adam from New York Magazine (to Krista, who is leaning on my shoulderblade and crying in joy for my evolution from her "ditsy" suitemate circa 1998 Interlochen Arts Academy to her "ditsy, but in a funny way" friend circa 2006 new york city): Is that your girlfriend?
Krista: No but...
Adam: But you love her.
Krista (crying more, nodding vigoursly): I do!

One of many adoring fans told Haviland "I've seen you at Henrietta's."
Haviland asked when. The girl said a few months ago.
You know what that means ... she is obviously referencing ... SPICE GIRLS NIGHT!!!!! (techincally, it was Cinco De Mayo, but we decided to dress up like the Spice Girls instead, because we are More Fun.)

"I'm sorry, I believe you actually saw Posh Spice?"

But seriously ..... I met/was complimented by/enjoyed listening to so many amazing amazing people; including:
-the news editor of my favorite magazine
-the author of my first-ever "Blog I Read Every Day," Audacia Ray
-RKB herself, who gave me the best blog-post-summary a girl could ever ever dream of...
-the aforementioned Lily Burana, Riain Gray, Sheri Goldhagen, etc.

Most importantly....

I told everyone to vote for Stephen in the grand contest for mediabistro's hotties in publishing and one salacious lady exclaimed "Will he take his clothes off?!" HOT.

Ladies: HE WILL. See my previous blogpost, where I created a cute photo of Stephen-as-Rambo. I'm not sure if that's exactly what he looks like naked, but I imagine it will give you some sort of idea. You know, to like...work from? Or whatever?

That's my agent, Cameron. Me. And HP Stillwell, co-partner in artistic excellence and overall rock stardom.

Thank you, though, really, for everyone who came and supported me. And everyone who came, and everyone who talked to me afterwards even if I was drunk and silly, and RKB for organizing it, and Krista, Cameron, Don, Stephen, Lisa, Jenni, Katy, Anna, Lainy, Emily, and my dear friend Haviland who rocked the fuck out of every character in my little story. And Gillette, because you're the best a man can get.

As um, Gwenyth Paltow might say...mwahhhh brrrr wahhhh!!!!

In the Flesh and Stephen for Hottest Agent: All the Cameras, Come Out, for a Public Affair, All Night, Let's Rock

Outline of Blog Post:
I. Stephen's Blog
a) Early DMLA
b) DMLA now
c) Make fun of Stephen

II. My Reading
a) Delf-deprication
b) Talk about Haviland and make jokes
i. Talk about our costumes
c) Date/time/location/etc

---

So when I started at DMLA in the spring of '05, my primary duties involved sitting in the kitchen with Rachel and Cameron, eating yogurt bowls, making fun of bad query letters and talking about the various dudes that Rachel went on dates with. Then Rachel left for another agency and Stephen Barbara joined our fine team, injecting the office with a big dose of MAN. He even dressed up for work and showed up on time!
Luckily, Stephen also talked about his dates, like how he thought his ex-girlfriend had a better ass than mine, which is dubious. Also he called it a "bedonk-a-donk." And I was wearing my best-ass-framing jeans (the Juicys, for those of you who who are familiar with my collection) that day. I call Stephen "Rambo" because I think it's funny. Stephen just started a blog. This means that he's added blogging to his daily duties, which previously included "checking soccer scores" and "not reading books."

Stephen doesn't need to read books unless they are written by dead Russian guys or his clients, which is pretty much the opposite of my reading habits.

Unfortunately, because I have no reputation to protect, I'll say just about anything on my blog. Or, you know, put a photo of Stephen on Rambo's body, because that makes me laugh. His blog is called 'Rambo the Agent.' Since i came up with that nickname, I'm gonna get most of the roys on his blog including foreign roys and sub-rights for audio film pay-through options or WHATEVER.

---

Tomorrow night, you could:
1. Have sex
2. Go watch people read stories about sex.

I know that "1" sounds better, but sometimes it really isn't, you know?

So there's this reading tomorrow night called In the Flesh, and there'll be some people there reading stories. For ten minutes you will get to see Me read, with my friend, Broadway Star Haviland P. Stillwell, reading dialogue for all the characters except me, the narrator. How will I pack that much fun into ten minutes, you may ask? Well, because I talk very fast, just ask my therapist who has to listen to me pack 24 years of mental trauma and it's impact on 7 days of my traumatic life into our weekly 45 minute sessions. Also Haviland and I will be wearing cute outfits, probably. I even got my nails polished and the color is "wicked," then I smudged most of it by digging for my cellphone in my bag, but whatever. That reminds me of how Rachel would paint my fingernails black when we were supposed to be doing work and Don said 'What is this, a slumber party?' (See that, see how I brought that back around? There's more where that came from, playas!!)

So it's at the Happy Endings Lounge. 302 Broome Street. At 8pm. I have a little plug in my sidebar. Bla bla bladi bla bla.

Also, it's sort of like a "meet the stars" event because a lot of people who I talk about in my blog will be at the reading, e.g., Stephen.

Sunday Top Ten: People I Really Wanna Ziggah Zig AH

Because my whole life is in a state of utter disarray, I can't think of anything "witty" to write today. So, in the spirit of the "In the Flesh" reading on Wednesday that everyone who is reading this right now should be at if they have a soul:

TOP TEN PEOPLE I REALLY WANNA ZIGGAH ZIG AH*
(as in "So tell me what you want, what you really really want, I wanna (huh) I wanna (huh) I really really really wanna zigazig ah," from a poem by the Spice Girls)

10. The entire cast of Dawson's Creek

The N, my favorite network (that's where I learn to talk like a 13-year-old), is presently (seriously, right the fuck now) rocking my socks with their "Degrassi Every Episode Marathon" for the next 5 weekends, but they are going to start showing re-runs of "Dawson's Creek" starting tomorrow, y'all! I took this quiz on "The N" called "What Dawson's Creek character are you?" and I'm Jack: "Even when you're in one of your quiet, anti-social moods, your friends know they can always turn to you for sensible, straightforward advice." They left some stuff out though, like "Jack is a homosexual." If I was 12 and "chatting" on The N and I took this quiz and it said I was like Jack, I think I'd pretty much know what that meant. But that's why I don't work for The N. I work for Jesus.

9. But More Specifically, Pacey.
I'm still really sad that Tom Cruise is screwing up Joey so bad. Joey should still be with Pacey!

8. Brian Kinney

I've been watching "Queer as Folk" which makes me want to be a gay man (this is not a new thought). I remember reading that Shane's character was modeled after Brian Kinney. But, unlike scrawny ol' Shane (who I love, of course, despite her lack of assalicious action), Brian Kinney is more or less physically my ideal man. Tall, brawny, sexy, hair to grab, cute ass, and my heartstrings feel super-tugged-upon when he's cute with Justin. I wanna be a gay man and have a one-night stand with BK and he never ever ever has to call me again ever.

7.Christina Aguilera in her new music video, "Ain't No Other Man"

Seriously, hottest thing ever. Everyone vote for it in That MTV Music Video Awards Show that basically launches a full scale advertising assault on NYC every goddamn summer.

6. Beh-Beh?

I don't know what I want more from this particular advertising campaign from bebe: to be Mischa Barton, to have Mischa Barton's shoes, or to do Mischa Barton. Whatever it is, I probably can't afford it, but it sure is nice to think about.

5+4. Chandler Bing + Josh Lyman = DOUBLE TROUBLE!!

Last night, Hav and I enjoyed the fruits of my Netflix subscription in the form of a DVD containing the pilot of what is officially our (our=all cool people) New Show of The Year, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. So, Bradley Whitford and Matthew Perry, who are like, the Gods of SuperMale Friendship on Television (Josh+Toby, Chandler+Joey), are playing a writer-director team in charge of a sketch comedy show, the SNL of L.A. It's gonna be fan-fucking-tastic. They even use "West Wing" font! This is the best casting decision ever (runner up: Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes in that long music video thing based on "Romeo and Juliet" by Shakespeare).

3. Elvira Kurt

She was on the Rosie Cruise and she was on our bus from the Seattle airport, and me and Hav concurred that she looked/dressed like an older Shane. She was with her partner and their cute baby who will be funny too because they got sperm from a gay guy comedian (also the baby will probably, I'm guessing, also be gay. Gay is OK!), even pulling off an amazing set on the night everyone was puking on each other because of the tsunami. She was interviewed on afterellen.com this week. Sorry, I just wanted to talk about the cruise again. It was so much fun!

2. Paris Hilton
Jeremiah texted me and said I reminded him of a "smart Paris Hilton." What the hell is that supposed to mean? "Open Minded Dater"?
(J, if you've figured out how to use computers I want you to know that I love you even though I make fun of you. And you remind me of a smart Flava Flave.)

1. People Who Did My Survey
The results are as follows:
Skinny jeans are pretty slammin' on the right person so I should probably get some since I am the right person,
only one-third of you go tanning as much as I do which means I'm gonna die,
everyone is crazy and most of them are in therapy,
a little more than half of you are livin' large like me (aka in debt)
everyone reads books which means you are all going to heaven with Jesus,
only 22% of you have Never gone homo,
Boy Crazy Stacey is Our American Idol but most of you never read the book anyhow,
29-30 is too old to shop at delias and I should stop eating the cookies,
and you're all wiped, wired, unhappy but having fun and guarded.

In other words: I am not alone, just like Michael Jackson always told me.

The Magazine is OUT and I Just Had to Laugh, I Saw the Photograph

So, it's on the newsstands. At least in NYC.


1. It features possibly one of the worst photographs of me ever taken, rivaling the one in Disneyworld where I'm wearing a Buzz Lightyear hood (see photo, right), but at least that was supposed to be ironic.

2. My exes, on the other hand, look fucking amazing.

3. Why do my exes look so hot? Because I'm the "open-minded dater" who goes for "really pretty people who are all wrong for me." Yep. Yeah. That's me. And by "that's me," I mean, "When the fact-checker asked me to verify that quote, I told her no. No verification on that sucker. I did NOT say that."

3a. It's possible that I did say something like that, but I didn't mean it, I was probs just quoting Krista, who once said, not even seriously, "You like beautiful idiots," referring to M---y and J----h and no one else. Also, J wasn't an idiot, he just wasn't an intellectual, but he wasn't wrong for me, just not right, which maybe means I'm an idiot? I dunno, he was nice to me.

I don't date pretty people who're all wrong for me. I mean, that's just not true. And if I did, I'd tell myself to cut it out, like, now.

3b. I totally love Virginia (who wrote the article) and absolutely trust that she passed on the correct information to the you know, higher-ups, esp. 'cause she showed me the info she had and I signed off on it.

So I'm not blaming her, I'm blaming, um, urm, hm ... the Paraphrasing department? Whatever it was that I possibly said, I totally took it back during the fact-checking "process." Especially since all my hot dumb exes aren't even in this story! (They can't read, so I know they aren't reading this. And if they are--Jordan Catalano, I always knew you could read if you just tried really hard! )

[That's a joke, fact-checker.]

4. Hey, fact-checker: your ass is grass.

4a. Here's a fact for ya': I hear they're hiring at Duane Reade.

4b. (I'm just kidding, I love you. This's all in good fun. MC is still in my top five favorite magazines.)


5. I checked on the fact "Marie is cool." Turns out that she is. Thus, I present, the improved version. The photograph is more recent. You may think it is of a different person. No, it's not. It's me. In both photos. It's just that in the published photograph, I look like a douchebag.

The Original:


The Improved Version:


6. The only awesome thing about this article is that they describe Marc as "a Republican with a penchant for Ben Affleck movies." HA! Sorry, buddy. (P.S. Your photo is hot!! Wanna hook up? We could rent Gigli and make out? JK Denise, he's all yours. Happy engagement! Good luck finding things to talk about!)

Also, they selected some absolutely hideous photograph of John and I in San Francisco which they've cut John out of (??) and labeled: Bernard's San Francisco treat? An invisible ex.

Seriously, I could make fun of that, but I don't think I even have to.

Still Waiting for My Big Debut: I Ain't Gonna Work on Maggie's Farm No More

I know when magazines come out. I don't know a lot of things, like calculus (or how to spell calcualaus) or how to spell the word for the fourth day of the week that starts with "W," or how to make a plain box with HTML, or anything about that TV show "Lost," or how to read minds. But I know that Marie Claire has never come out after Glamour, Lucky, Vanity Fair, Cosmo, jesus christ. The Year-End issue of Life magazine with all the best photos of 2007 is obviously going to come out first. Then I saw this:

According to the New York Times, this is the first issue with the new editor, which means perhaps they are switching things up a bit. As in taking longer for it to come out. It's like I just want the dentist to pull my teeth already. The irony of all of this is that I am on the cover!!

"You should just tell people that you're gonna be on the cover."
-Haviland

Before I went blonde again, I got a lot of comments about lookin' like Maggie G, which I sometimes suspected was because we are both lanky and "quirky" and willing to carry heavy objects on our bony backs for James Spader. I mean, other than that, we really don't have that much in common, looks-wise.

That being said, I am putting a hex on Courtney Cox. Every time I see her face staring back at me from the August issue, a little piece of me dies inside.

I think John left me a message that he might come out to New York so we can yell at each other. That might not be what he said. But if it was, that's kinda funny.

Freaking Out About Upcoming Appearance in Marie Claire

I noticed my friendly magazine-salesman (I think he sells other things too, like beverages, tobacco products, candy bars, gum and DVDs featuring aspiring young actresses with disarming facial expressions) unpacking a stack of the brand new Glamour this evening (I had to see him through the FOG OF HEAT) ...

"Um, do you know when the new Marie Claire comes out?"

"Uh," he says, juggling about ten cell phone products in his hands (he might sell those too, I don't even remember the last time I paid my cell bill let alone purchased an accessory, whatever)

"Tomorrow."

Tomorrow! TOMORROW?!!! ONLY A DAY AWAY?

P.S. I did not write an article for Marie Claire. if I had (and I will, someday, because I totally heart marie claire and I will one day be a star), I'd be humble about it. BUT I don't like talking about things that I have done that are legitimately cool, cuz that wouldn't be self-deprecating enough. (and maybe because I don't do cool things, but whatev) No, someone else wrote an article. I'm just in it. Yes, it's true, I saved a village in Mexico, lost twenty pounds and just bought 100 outfits for less than $100.00!

This blog entry, which will be seen by (unfortunately) less than the 1,514,525 Marie Claire readers, is me making peace with this. I am preparing for the Zen.

Like how I shot a bolt of metal through my bellybutton to make piece with my tummy. Which actually worked. Well also I stopped eating so much pizza.

See look!:
Anyhow. E.G., I don't talk about my real-live-personal-life on this blog, but considering I'm writing a book about myself (if you're going to tell me I'm some sort of narcissist, I would say to you "Thanks Captain Obvious!" HA! Gotcha, Suckah!), I should get used to this idea.

like--I've been in stuff before, sharing questionable secrets, but MC has a serious circulation. I mean, SERIOUS. However, clearly MC has me beat on circulation. I mean, you know, right? WAL-MART SERIOUS. But also, no one else salivates over a stack of fresh magazines at the magazine store like I do, so maybe not that many people read mags like I do.

OK really, I'm worried I said something retarded.

Basically, I was put in touch with a writer while I was working at nerve, I thought the story was about girls who were friends with their exes, it turned out they were just looking for girls who were friends with their exes so that these aforementioned girls could get in touch with their exes for a story on match-the-girl-with-her-exes.

Yay fun right?

First I tried to get out of it five or six times, once actually sending an email to the super-sweet editor (I'm being genuine, she's really awesome) containing this paragraph as my conditions to be in the article:

So I need you to put three hundred dollars, a lifetime subscription and a freelance gig in a briefcase and leave it in front of the Hearst Building. I'll show up dressed like Edie Beale and say "The eagle as landed" and you can hand it to me. Not you necessarily, but like, whomever has time. It could even be an intern.

Anyhow because the writer is really sweet, and everyone at marie claire was so cool, and also the beauty bag which enabled Haviland and I to never leave our cabin on the cruise without at least five shimmery products and three shades of eyeshadow......I did it.

I told the writer my CAPTIVATING life story and all my various "exes."

John: Perfect! High school! Love! EX NUMBER ONE.
C.T: Not a very captivating tale.
S.D: I'm athletic and artsy, he's athletic and artsy, we're both super-good in bed—people would guess we were a couple right away, therefore eliminating the "surprise" factor the story is going for.
J.H: Perfect! Older man! Republican! TOTALLY REFUSED TO DO IT. (He's a cop now. I understand ... J, if you're reading this, aren't I funny?).

I know what you're thinking...that's only ONE ex! Well, Marc (him and I had nothing in common whatsoever, except for when he made me see Mission to Mars and we both agreed it was atrocious) and Lo stepped up to be my quasi-exes. Marc's fiancée is unimpressed and will probably kill me with a pitchfork before Labor Day.

A few weeks ago, a fact checker asked me to confirm statements like "You have a weakness for beautiful people." That is when my panic transformed into beyond panic, which is better, because beyond-panic is just another word for nothing left to lose.

Convo circa two weeks ago:

Me: "I wonder if my grandmother is going to see this magazine at Revco or Wall-Mart and call me and say honey, I didn't know you were a lesbo!** Come back to Reeseville and go to Wilmington College!"
Lo: "Yeah..when's it coming out?"
Me: "August. Oh my God, I'm going to have another anxiety attack."
Lo: "I wish it was coming out sooner! I wish it was coming out next week!"

**I am not a lesbo, but I think that word is funny/fun. I think labeling is old school, but that being said, I'm writing a book about bisexuality. So Um. Right.

I'm counting on Lo to support me during this trying time.

When the lady took my photo at my office I wasn't blonde yet and I should have gone tanning more often and I'm pretty sure I said something dumb.

OK.

If anyone sees the article and thinks I sound like a real princess and wants to be my next ex-boyfriend, please email me, thanks.

I'm smoking and listening to Madonna. Things are lookin' up.