Sunday Top Ten Part Two: Back in the 90s ...

Hey, speaking of the nineties, remember when Bill Clinton was president? That was cool. Want something like that to happen again? Register to vote RIGHTNOW. The Republicans are pulling out all the stops, like that lady (I prefer the parody of that lady). What if I invented a blog where I promised to kill myself if Obama loses? Would that be un-funny? Is it to soon? It's too soon. Hey-o! JK, death isn't funny. I hate death. Everyone should have babies and pray to Jesus. I'm really too upset to write a blog right now, the Republican National Convention is pushing me over the edge. I was gonna finish this 90s blog [last night/Wednesday], but instead I yelled at CNN. Tinkerbell doesn't like it when I get angry, it gives her ulcers. Anyhow! The 90s!

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5. Beverly Hills 90210

The Walshes were maybe the 50th pop culture icons to employ the Midwest [or other quaint & simple locale]-to-Rodeo storyline as a pilot hook, and they pulled it off. [Also, many shows/movies substituted rough-and-tumble poor for "quaint&simple"] Since (and during) the 90s, many have followed in their footsteps: Ryan Atwood, Spencer Carlin & fam, the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, The Beverly Hillbillies, Haviland, etc.

So last night I saw the new 90210 'cause I'm trying to relax in the evenings and enjoy my newfound freedom to leave my room [I'm currently crashing with natalie while her roommates are in France]. It's now the 100th show to employ aforementioned plot device and unfortunately that device is officially done and DONE.

"A private plane? really?" = BORING, no longer interesting in and of itself.
"Oh my god, the spoiled rich girl wants to get out of a paper for her sweet 16 party!"=LAME.

If we wanna see rich kids use their rich kid stuff, we can watch The Hills, Gossip Girl, etc., where at least the characters are more than just cardboard cut-outs . We're supposed to believe that these new-class kids -- the kids who grew up watching 90210 and Fresh Prince -- are still gonna make fun of a girl just for being from Kansas? C'mon! They've seen this show already, they know better! One minute you're ripping on Brenda and the next minute she's sleeping with Dylan so fuck you guys I'm moving to Paris!! And I hate you both!

90210 broke barriers, but its sticky territory is now familiar and well-trod. Therefore, in the 21st century it ain't easy to create an inventive or surprising teen show -- the shock value stuff's been done and now you've gotta find a truly inventive way to make it really fresh & current. That "evil blogger" storyline on the new 90210 .. that don't cut it. [Teevee writers always have such a bizarre perspective on how the internet is actually used by teenagers.] Also, that poorly executed prescription drug deal? Doesn't cut it either. If we want that, we can watch Intervention.

I wanna see Colin in a high-speed chase with coked-out Kelly, I want David Silver flushing meth down the toilet when Dylan comes over, I want Donna on the bed with the rose petals ready for sexy time and I want that kid blowing his brains out and Brandon telling Andrea she doesn't know about condoms 'cause she's never done the dirty dirty and I want Ray pushing Donna down the stairs come on!!

Rehashing prior character's stereotypes [e.g., Andrea Zuckerman's daughter] is cute at first, but ultimately I don't think these characters will ever stand on their own. In the 90s, I had a serious relationship with Kelly Taylor & Valerie Malone & Claire ... I wanted to be them. I wanted to be cool and sexy and popular and if that meant I had to do crazy things like they did, I would, and I did, and it wasn't as cute when I did them. But despite these negative effects -- still! I totally cared if Donna Martin graduated! (also, check out this site of 90210 fantastichood)

I could barely get the names straight on last night's "New 90210." Despite its hopeless soapiness, I knew Brandon Walsh, David Silver and Valerie Malone like they were real people, and it's not just 'cause I've seen all 5 bajillion episodes. I knew them better from the pilot than I know anyone from last night. [that often happens to me w/r/t last night, though]

The difference between a successful show -- even a "bad" successful show, e.g., Dawson's Creek, Gossip Girl, The O.C., the original Beverly Hills 90210 -- and a shitty show is strong, fleshed-out, fully realized characters with distinct and NEW stories to tell. E.g., we need a lesbian reveal. The adopted black brother thing is just like South of Nowhere, it's over. Also, it's just like the life of Marie Lyn Bernard dot blogspot dot com, so whatever.

I mean, srsly, you know who needs a spinoff? EMILY VALENTINE, that's who.

Emily Valentine could host a talk show or a judge show. Or maybe it could be about the punked out kids she has.

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4. Delia*s & Other Mail-Order Clothing

Maybe I still shop at Delia*s, maybe I don't. Actually, I don't shop anywhere now, online shopping is dangerous and gets people into debt. I should check it out though, I need giant plaid platform sandels from the discount domain. Anyhow, regardless, their catalog was like Sassy without the articles. Though we enjoyed tearing apart each issue by literally scrawling snarky commentary all over the girls airbrushed thighs and delightfully anachronistic facial expressions, we similarly enjoyed their clothing, which came in the mail -- remember the MAIL?! I loved catalogues, especially in boarding school. Online shopping has now taken away the fun I used to have trying to get the J-Crew woman to tell me about her family and how her day was going. She'd be like "good," and I'd be like, "Level with me, Anjalaka, HOW GOOD? like, honey glaze good or deep peacock good?"

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3. SNICK

As I've mentioned 5,000 times, I grew up in a prisoner of world wars camp in a communist commune where I had to grow my own vegetables and if I wanted milk my Ma would make me go out back and milk Bessie and if I mixed meat and milk I got whipped with sugarcane. Therefore I wasn't permitted to enjoy the things other children enjoyed, such as Fruit by the Foot and SNICK. Luckily I had lots of friends, 'cause I was funny if not a little Somalian in the cheekbones, and they'd invite me over, and then we could eat pop tarts and watch SNICK.

Still; my memories of Clarissa are vague. Howevs, I recall this: she rocked outfits I could only dream of rolling. She mastered the denim rolled-up shorts over the leggings which I tried to pull off too but my leggings were too baggy.

I always seem to remember Ghostwriter, one of my fave shows I was allowed to watch in the liberal hippie dungeon where I lived, as being on Nickelodian, but obvs it was on PBS.

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2. It just gives your color ... a kick!

"So when Rayanne Graff told me my hair was holding me back, I had to listen. 'Cause she wasn't just talking about my hair; she was talking about my life."
-Angela Chase, My So-Called Life

Glintz! Glints! I just remembered!!!! Featured Dylan McKay's wife who got shot! Look! Here's the tv ad, remember it?

We had a lot of bold ideas w/r/t hair color in the 90s. Consequentially we expressed ourselves with Manic Panic, Nice 'n Easy, Sun-In, and the always reliable magic markers (you could give yourself baby blue highlights during lunch!). Many a towel and bathroom floor was ruined by glops of inevitably crimson glow-ish hair dye -- a sure sign to our parents that we'd done it again. Blonde to red to black to brown to purple and back again, just whatever. Salons were not punk enough for us.

It wasn't about going natural, it was about pissing off your parents and having something fun to do on a Friday night. For example, it's difficult to rebel when you live in a barbed-wire enclosed jail cell like I did. But one thing I could do? Dye my hair, the one thing my mother (claimed she had) told me not to do before my brother's Bar Mitzvah. Whatevs. Look at that dress! I'm GOLDEN.

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1. Your Photos

Vashti's ready to hang ten at the skate park
got her helmet on, she ain't afraid of the dark
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Crystal says cowabunga dude 'cause she's ready to pump it up
what's in the fanny pack? can i get a what what
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like blossom ms. jackson's got flowers on her babydoll dress
madonna says call 1-888-2-confess
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M.C Hammer's pants have got nothing on cookie's hot green shoes
she's ready to dance to Hewey Lewis and the News
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That may be a laser gun in his hands or puffy paint on the shirt
he clearly doesn't know what's gonna happen to kurt
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moonkiller can't go wrong in pink pants and shoes with polka dots
like the chicago bulls she's making all her shots
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A.C Slater would love the wash on these smashin' shortalls
Clarissa explains it all: don't go chasin' waterfalls
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Meghan has a lot of deep thoughts, thus she needs a beret
She don't gotta pray just to make it today hey!
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Jonathan Brandis has got nothing on this Ladybugs-esque do
Sinead O'Conner says nothing compares to you
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See that hair flip? That's pretty much as rad as life got
Snoop Dogg says drop it like it's hotttt
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FYI, that's not Carly, that's torrie's sister
she's gonna bust a move like mister mister

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"Grownups like to tell you where they were when President Kennedy was shot, which they all know to the exact second. Which makes me almost jealous, like I should have seen something important enough to know where I was when it happened. But I don't yet. And in fact it was a better time then, and people knew what they were supposed to do and how to make the world better. Now nobody knows anything."
-Angela, My So-Called Life
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(register, y'all. be there when something happens.)

H & R Advice Column #3/VLOG #27: You've Got Feelings, We've Got Video

Hello friends & family, welcome to your audio-visual entertainment one-stop megashop of the world wide webbernets. This week, in honor of Haviland's East Coast presence and a busy few weeks, we bring you our Third Very Famous Advice Column as a VLOG. This is Part One, containing only 50% of your feelings/our answers. I've also transcribed the questions below -- though slightly paraphrased and condensed -- in a fuller form than what we read on video. We thought it'd be best to read/answer live on camera, and as I'm presently cutting & pasting said questions, I'm realizing ... um. Well, we skimmed. We did what we could do!

Anyhow, definitely watch the movie first, it's funnier that way and it's kinda okay. You know I'm telling the truth, because that? What just happened? See what I did there? That's not what I do.

Right ... that was actually be the first time in my entire life I've recommended visual entertainment over reading. I never, ever, ever do that. Obvs the secret about flying lesbians and the video Papi sent us from her cave are in the video.

Tune in to find out how to be a bisexual, have a climax, and overcome your addiction to sex with pineapples.

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Dear H&R,

If you'd told me four years ago I'd ever fall for a girl, I'd have laughed in your face -- all my relationships were with boys. My senior year of high school I had a drunken makeout with my best friend -- a girl -- and while hammered we made out a few more times that summer, but it was always innocent. Now we remember it as wild, reeling with our impending independence, fundamentally ridiculous, etc. I went to college and dated boys, did bad things, and eventually met a boy I thought was the one. When we broke up two years later, we didn't stay friends 'cause we'd been such assholes during the breakup.

Senior year of college I was heartbroken & alcoholic, trying to have fun. Then I met a girl. We were both straight but we started having weird feelings we'd never had for a girl before and eventually (drunk of course) we finally made out. We freaked out, decided it was a mistake ... and we failed future attempts to not talk or just be platonic when we did. We didn't know what we were doing, so we drank a lot and said "fuck it, let's give it a shot." We tried to keep it casual, "Papi Doesn't Do Breakfast," etc., but when we were sober (an increasingly frequent state) it got really relationship-y. We'd freak out. WTF OMG. Why am I in love with a girl. Dated on and off for about a year but ultimately she was uncomfortable about being with a girl forevs, due to her traditional family. It's been mostly a surprisingly amicable/healthy break-up. We love each other but know it's not right.

We both date boys now. When my gaymo friends take me to the bar, I don't look at anyone. Am I just attracted to straight girls? Are there any other weirdos out there like me? Is it possible to just go gay for one person? I've always considered myself a Kinsey 5, but then there's that year-long aberration ... am I not being open-minded enough?

Also ... since I've never had an ex-girlfriend before ... we're both affectionate still. Haven't entirely adjusted to the "just friends" thing. I don't think we want anything to happen, but we do non-sexy cuddling that I don't do w/my other female friends. Is that weird? How do you stay "just friends" w/an ex w/o ever acting inappropriate? (i.e.. If they come to visit you from out of town are you supposed to make them sleep on the couch or floor to prevent non-sexy cuddling from happening while you're sleeping?) How do you and Haviland do it??

-Unable to Solve For Ex

[I'd like to add to the plethora of coverage in the vlog ... that anecdotally -- I feel stories like yours usually end up in one or the other or both going back to girls at some point, even if not permanently. Y'know, like in Brokeback Mountain and many popular lesbian romantic comedies. JK, no such thing, but in many books, movies and teevee shows, as well as amongst my friends. In fact, my personal story's not so different from yours, I guess. Ultimately my advice is ... it sounds to me like you're curious about what could happen if you let it ... and if you feel this lingering curiosity is preventing you from getting serious with a boy right now, then look at that and figure out what to do with it. If not, then just keep on living/loving/laughing and see what happens. It took me about six years to acclimate to the possibility myself -- and I come from a liberal town with a gay mom, went to art school, live in New York City, and have befriended a significant number of attractive gay female friends. I'd recommend you read Tipping the Velvet & A Woman Like That & Surface Tension and take The L Word 'What Character are You?" quiz on facebook.

So my friend, the world is your bisexual oyster. Eat it up/out.]

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[I realized we just assumed this was written by a woman, though I don't know why made that assumption. Hm. Unless I left something behind while paraphrasing.]

Dear H & R,

My girlfriend and I have the beginnings of a problem. Its a sex thing so if you consider that an inappropriate topic please stop reading and hit delete. I promise not to be offended.

For about two weeks it's been difficult for her to reach climax during sex. She wants sex, but it happens even when she's the initiator. It's not that she's physically unable, 'cause she eventually does, and it's less intense. It doesn't actually bother me, but it bothers her, like I'm waiting on her or something, and I don't wanna do that. She says there's nothing different she'd like to try and our relationship hasn't suffered yet.

But I feel a little inadquete even though she says it's not me and don't know what to do/say.

We've been together for almost 10 years, there's been no other recent changes in our lives, she's not cheating ..

Thanks,
Story of O

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Dear Riese and Haviland,

For many years, I have lived in fear. I have many, many demons that I am afraid to even speak of, for fear that once let loose upon the Internet, they will haunt me forever. But you two ladies seem very worldly and wise (and have great asses, too), so I think you can help me with my problems.

First and foremost, I have a problem with fruit. And it's not allergies, phobias or anything that simple. You see, I am uncontrollably attracted to fruit products, and I am unable to make it through a day without having sex with a piece of fruit.

You name it, I've boinked it . Watermelon, regular melon, grapes (sadly) and coconuts. Those were always the toughest, but hey, you don't go to Hawaii on vacation to not fuck a coconut, you know? Ha! LOL OMG!

But my addiction is out of control. I have to order Fresh Direct these days because grocery stores won't let me in anymore. If I walk past all that fruit, it's too much. Do you know what it's like to have security toss you outside with your pants down and you erection impaled on an apple? Of course you don't.

I've tried getting off fruit on my own, but it's just too hard. There's no patch for my addiction, so I tried to ween myself off fruit sex by wrapping my johnson in fruit roll-ups. Alas, it just heightens the excitement. I am at a complete loss.

Are there support groups? Clubs? I'm desperate here. If you can solve this problem for me, I'll let you know of my other deep, dark secrets.

OMG, LOL, LMAO, ROTFLMAO, OMFG, Whatevs,
Fruit Salad Jones

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You guys, the cruise leaves So soon! Yay!

What's Worse, the Stomach Flu or Dial-up? Or both at once?

One of the differences between New York City and suburban Detroit is that people are not piled all up on top of each other, sharing their wireless service like tuberculosis. That means that not only am I attempting to update my blog from a machine that is not my pet Sparky the MacBook, but I am doing so from my Mother's "computer," using dial-up, via America Online which apparently still exists. I tried to sign on under my old screen name 'R Pop Tart' but I forgot the password. I can't remember who I had a crush on then.

"This might be more blog-worthy than Greyhound"
-Carl, after my 45th trip to the bathroom to wretch up my intestines, followed by chills, hot/cold flashes, and other symptoms that I am fairly sure are related to either SARS, anthrax, the West Nile Virus or Meningitis.

Thus, I am actually NOT in Ohio.

I am in my sweatpants, eating cup-o-soup, and I've spent the entire day in various poses of misery. Maybe Jesus is punishing me for coveting Emmit Honeycutt. I've been told that Christmas cookies aren't going to be good for my stomach but I can't help myself. Also I felt that perhaps around 2pm I was completely out of body fat and I felt very cold. So I'm trying to bring sexy back, via sugar cookies, which so far are going down better than the two sips of water I dared to ingest 12 hours ago.

But really how could I feel wretched sitting at this lovely desk.

To my right we have a variety of social-work and psychological therapy type literature, such as "choices & consequences," "paths to recovery" and "facing the shadow." Also I see a back-issue stockpile of Real Simple magazine and seven single-serving sized packets of McDonalds grape jam. Yes that's right, grape jam. I also find this a bit perplexing, though perhaps it is somehow related to the 'Anatomy Coloring Book,' which I am too weak to retrieve. There is a box labeled 'Faith.' Again, my weak limbs are overruling my perverse curiosity in this particular matter.

In front of me is a stunning photograph of Lewis and I dressed like monks or something in a sadistic Disneyworld photo shoot re-creation of Fanastia. I have a bucket in my hands like Little Red Riding Hood and Lewis has a wand. There's also a photo Alina and I took with the Mall Santa Claus, circa high school I think. Both of thse photos are very romantic and employ pleasent cultural figures (Mickey Mouse, Santa Claus), which is nice, right? (who am I? where am i? my head hurts. my stomach hurts. Haaavvvilanndddd) Also there are some motivaitonal greeting cards that claim the brightest light you can hope to see is the one I give to you when I smile. Also May success wash over me with everything I do, etc.

To my left we have "Robert's Rules of Lesbian Living," which include:
-Life is a process. Lesbian life is the process of processing the process.
-It is not against any written lesbian law to wear panty hose. They just seem silly under your softball uniform.

Either I am freezing or dying.

The true Christmas miracle is that Carl was a sweetheart the whole time I was sick although he missed the great chance to drive me to Ohio this morning as I was unable to walk or move. And although his car did not have heat, it was not particularly unpleasent as we drove from my Mom's place to his place, and the no-shock thing was kinda like riding a really dangerous roller coaster.

They don't get "The N," which means I don't know what happened with Spashley tonight. The agony, the absolute agony!

No photos. You have no clue how long it took just to load the 'create a post' page.

I've decided that when I get married, i want krista and natalie and haviland and ingrid to be my bridesmaids and I want Lewis to be my ring bearer and I want him to wear a monkey suit. I think that would be really funny. You know, a monkey at a wedding?

Sunday Top 10: You're Coming Out, I Want the World to Know

The cover of "The National Enquirer" this week promises to tell you who is gay and who isn't. This is an interesting premise (I mean, granted, we're talking about a paper that built it's empire on stories about Michael Jackson impregnating three thousand pound aliens and giving birth to cat babies), which somehow seems less fun than talking about who is giving birth to alien babies. And then there's Perez Hilton, that savvy blogger with the site and the money and the photos, who has been outing people for a few weeks, which makes some people pissed, some people smile, and some people develop anxiety disorders and then lose their mind and then muzzle Kelly Ripa on Daytime TV. Personally, I think it's all a bit silly, because as the Late Great Kurt Cobain said, everyone is gay.

I don't think who Clay Aiken wants to boink is nearly as important as a lot of other things that are being kinda-sorta covered up right now. And Jodie Foster? Really? Really! You don't say.

SUNDAY TOP TEN: THEY'RE COMING OUT, I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW

10. East Harlem would like to come out as not being "the next East Village." Also, it's not the next Lower East Side, or even the next West Village, or the next Tribeca or the next No-Ho. East Harlem is the next East Harlem.

This is the view from my ex-East Harlem apartment on 115th street, where Krista and I set up our happy warm hardwood-floored home from September of 2004-January of 2006. Our block was really quite lovely, except for the morning that Krista stepped over a dead person on her way to the train and called me in a total state.

East Harlem itself lacked many things (a place to buy tampons after 11pm, a safe street at night from the subway, a good grocery store, fresh-direct east of First Avenue, food delivery from a various international locales besides Mexico, China, and PizzaLand, an office supply store, a reliable crosstown bus), but East Harlem if you like that kind of thing is a fantastic place to breathe and walk in this city, because it has a life and culture that the East Village no longer has (in case you count twenty-year-old girls whining that they didn't want avocado in their Soosh-aaahy while wearing $500 sweatpants as "a culture"), but don't sign the lease for that $700/month steal expecting Mimi Marquez to come barreling down the street in hot pants and beg you--you the melancholy former junkie/musician from Scarsdale-- to come out tonight because her "body's talkin" to her and her body is saying "time for DANGER," that it wants to "commit a crime," "be the cause of a fight," and "put on a tight skirt and FLIRT with a STRANGER!" So you know, take your striving back to Williamsburg. If you like: 1. Goya products, 2. A street fair for the entire month of July which means Elephant Ears and flying children, 3. The frequent opportunity to purchase four neon pink thongs for 4.99--go to East Harlem. But there is no Angelica's Kitchen, no hypothetical Live Cafe, no Tunnel nightclub, no cute girly boutiques that advertise in Bust magazine, no lesbian mystery bookstores and no Nyuorcian Poets. And there ain't gonna be, you "young professional" you.

Also, it's really far away.

9. Friday Night Would Like to Come Out as Thursday Night, and vice versa: Call me crazy, but I think Friday night is the absolute best night to stay in and clean. Why? Because you can watch "The N" (new episodes of Degrassi and South of Nowhere) while you wash dishes for 1.5 hours, and you are tired anyhow and it's hard to deal with people after a long work week and because also:

"Why not make your life easier? I mean, life is so fucking hard, even when it's easy." (Margaret, Six Feet Under)

Thursday night is the sexiest night of the week. So just do what you wanna do then. Everything is too crowded on Friday night.

8. Meeting for Lunch would like to come out as Eating Not Just a $10.75 Plate of Mixed Greens and Petrified Grilled Chicken, but as also Eating Up Your Whole Goddamn Day.

7. Drew Barrymore Would Like to Come out as Thin. Why is she continually held up as an example of a woman who is "voluptuous?" I saw her once and she is the tiniest thing ever. Not as tiny as Shane, who is SO much thinner in person than I ever even imagined which means that Sarah Shahi must be like, ridiculously tiny too (like Drew Barrymore), and y'all need to eat a sandwich, all of y'all.

6. College Degrees Would Like to Come Out as Relatively Useless Pieces of Paper: However, it remains a less useless piece of paper than a high school diploma. So you know, study kids, (sound of whip snapping), children, I said study!

5. Jennifer Lopez would like to come out as a Replicant. Seriously, why is she on the cover of every magazine all the time? The thing about J-Lo is that she has done a lot of things that are very pleasant and entirely forgettable. Aside from maybe Selena (which I didn't see) and that music video where she's almost naked with that pole and the shimmery gold costumes or something, I can't credit her with making any great contributions to the artistic universe. Except for her ass. Oh and I heart her lingerie line.

I'm not even gonna talk about Gigli, because at least that shit was so bad it was memorable. I'm talkin' about Shall We Dance. About Maid in Manhattan, Jersey Girl, The Wedding Planner, Monster-in-Law.

If they are throwing her in there all the time just to add some diversity to the Charlize Theron/SJP/Paris Hilton/Meg Ryan rotation, here's some suggestions for other potential Hispanic cover girls:
Rosario Dawson, Iyari Limon, Rosie Perez, Daphne Ruben-Vega, Roma Maffia, Penelope Cruz, Selma Hayeck, Elizabeth Vargas, Michelle Rodreguiez, Alexas Bledel, Sarah Shahi.

Anyhow, she's on the cover of Harper's this month. Second time this year. I'm just sayin'. What did she do this time? Is she going to say something cool in her interview really? I mean, Angelina Jolie gives a good interview. J-Lo? Really? When I see her on the cover of magazines, she always is airbrushed so much she hardly looks like anyone at all. Which is why I, on behalf of Bladerunner, must let you know that she is not a real person, she is a replicant.



4. I AM: The Girl Who Stepped On Your Feet, Ran Into Your Century 21 Bag, Elbowed You in the Face, etc.
That was me. Yup. I'm actually totally over it. This is a crowded city, you gotta hustle.

3. The Following PlayList would like to Come Out as the Only Thing For Grey December:

Elliot Smith. Somebody That I Used To Know
Jeff Buckley. Lilac Wine
Feist. Lonely Lonely (Frisbee'd Mix)
Depeche Mode. World in my Eyes
Rufus Wainwright. The Art Teacher
Azure Ray. November
Ave Maria
Heavenly. She and Me
Delibes. Dome Epais
Radiohead. Nice Dream
R.E.M. New Orleans Instrumental Number 1
Ani DiFranco. Shrug
Imogene Heap. Hide and Seek
Jeff Buckley. So Real
Melissa Ferrick. Break Up Song
Leonard Cohen. Everybody Knows
Tom Waits. Tom Traubert's Blues

2.I'd like to out myself and most of my friends as not having it all together. That's right. We are all a huge mess. Standing by the door last night, on my way out to make a mess of things, I looked at two friends and said "We're a sad bunch, aren't we?" and I said "I need to get ready to go out" and she said to me: "Don't go out there. Things get worse out there, in the world."

What are we doing, where are we going, we are striving like monkeys following dreams that look like bananas and we're happy to see you, or maybe just pretending we are. We are trying, this is our time at the edge, we even carve out little pieces of this imaginary online universe to tell each other who we are without getting reactions right in our faces or our ears, so we can control somehow the output, the image, the response, the reverb. This is our time at the edge?


1. I read something really beautiful today in the form of a short essay by Brian Doyle in The American Scholar, as reprinted in The Best American Essays 2005. I luckily found the entire essay transcribed here and you should check that out asap. If you are too lazy, here is just the last paragraph from Joyas Valadoras:

“So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end--not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched up by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words ‘I have something to tell you,’ a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mothers papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your fathers voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children."

Sunday Top 10: Jesus Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Last night, circa midnight, as Haviland and I were planning our wedding talking about How to Take Myself Seriously, my roommate MM called (using initials in totally vain attempt to avoid potential googling by the AlAnonitute)--and I generally don't answer the phone, because I'm: 1. deaf, 2. busy--but Haviland suggested that maybe my apartment was on fire. Obvs this is a sensitive topic right now, so I did.

However, it wasn't the apartment that was on fire. It was our souls, burning in the pits of eternal damnation!

Apparently the flames of our mutual sin-i-tude have driven the AlAnonitute, who was living here before either of us, to move out. (Okay, honestly, I have no idea why she's moving out. And she's a nice girl, I think, really a perfect roommate--docile, quiet, never home, never complained (to me)-- and besides my occasional maddening guilt over the fact that, as a schoolteacher, she is way more Noble and Good than I will ever be, I found her altogether non-invasive and pleasant).

So my theories relating to the origins of her desires are based upon some very shoddy detective methods (observance of Self-Help and Jesus literature in her room and my total ire towards anyone who, two years ago, asked a lesbian to move out because she felt uncomfortable living with someone who could want her body, which, p.s., is super unlikely, if you know what I'm sayin') and the fact that, as Sherri points out, it's always fun to make fun of Jesus.

However if she is moving in with her boyfriend, I hope she knows that is also a sin. In fact, I believe it's called "living in sin." Burn THAT, King James!

TOP TEN REASONS APARTMENT 1A IS NOT A PLACE FOR GOOD CLEAN VIRTUOUS LIVING

10. Average Time Spent in Refrigerator by the Average Alcoholic Beverage Before Being Consumed: 3 hours.

9. The Company We Keep. My best friend in the city is a lesbian--a lot of my friends are either lesbians OR at least have had sex with a lesbian! MM's boyfriend is a member of one of the most famous Heavy Metal bands EVER. If I had a boyfriend, he'd probably be a member of an indie-band that maintained it's Artistic Integrity while slipping into poverty and General but Trendy Levels of Disillusionment and Resentment Towards the Man. You can imagine the immoral behavior just bursting through the cracks of our drywall.

8. Banned Books Because my room is small and I am large, I often do work in the living room. Which means some of my books (in particular, books-I-am-reading-for-book-i-am-writing) are on the shelves there. Some of these titles, to the virgin frigid eye, may appear to be somewhat disarming, among them: Bisexuality and the Eroticism of Everyday Life, Her Way: Young Women Remake the Sexual Revolution, Fever: How Rock N' Roll Changed Gender in America, Gender Trouble, and, of course, A Tribute to Freud.

7. Pill Poppers On the note of "Things I Did Do for Jesus": I don't think Jesus wants the AlAnonitute to be taking Ambien--that's like, artificial and stuff. He probably does want Stephanie and I, however, to enjoy a restful night of sleep every now and then. So we took care of that mis-appropriation of pills. Life is hard, y'all!

6. Strong Hell-Raising Content Of the 20 DVDs (not including the John Cassavetes collection, because I've only got so much time, people) on the shelf in the common room, the MPAA has found these films guilty of the following sins against the rating boards (obviously all rated R or NC-17)
Adult Language: 75%
Nudity/Sexuality: 50%
Graphic Violence: 40%
Strong Sexual Content: 35%
Substance Abuse: 35%
Violence: 25%
"Graphic" Substance Abuse: 20%
"Pervasive Strong Language": 10%
"Graphic Sexual Dialogue": 5% (Closer)
"Sex-Related Cartoons": 5% (Crumb)
TV shows, and therefore without MPAA ratings, but I can tell you from experience are filled with adult language, possibly even pervasive strong language, and possibly, though not necessarily, Sex-Related Cartoons: 10% (Family Guy, Little Britan)

5. Degrassi...It Goes There. According to the promos, Degrassi "goes there," and for the first few weekends I lived here, the Degrassi marathon kept me endlessly entertained as I set up and did work that required only 50% of my brain. There=pregnancy, homosexuality, violence, drugs, abortions, god-club, rape, internet porn, etc. But like, with high school students, and um...shiny packaging. It might be a little confusing. If you aren't like, familiar, like, with it. p.s., sometimes MM puts in foreign old-school black and white porn for background imagery while we do work.

4. I'm more of a 'Utne Reader' kind of girl. Someone in this apartment subscribes to Time magazine and gets catalogs from the Omega Institute, and it ain't me. Also, it's not MM.


3."In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety" I've been known to mistake men's boxer-briefs for "shorts to be worn around the house" and MM usually cleans in five-inch heels and skirt worn as a chic strapless mini-dress, which is one of my favorite things about her, because it's really funny.

2. Um..this blog? If she finds this, then I actually probably will go to hell.

1. When she confessed to accidentally taking my yogurt instead of hers, I screamed: "You are going straight to hell! Don't talk to me anymore! Just get out of here, I can't trust you!" Obvs I was clearly sarcastic, and she laughed, but then I realized that she actually believes in Hell. And I uh, am a Jew.

Tuesday You See, She Had to be Free, but Somehow I've Got to Carry On

TOP TEN REASONS I DIDN'T DO A SUNDAY TOP TEN
(While we're on the topic of "things I didn't do," I'd also like to mention that I also did not write the 15 e-mails I owe various people that I love/want to love/gave birth to me, write a book proposal, return phone calls, be responsible, do laundry)


10.That Moving Thing. That No-Phone Thing. Followed by that Last-Minute-Decision-to-go-to-Nyack-Thing.



9. The Degrassi Every-Episode Marathon This weekend involved the moment I've been waiting two weeks/all my life for: Paige and Alex's lesbian love affair! Also it's pretty much the best show on television. I also enjoyed the 3,546 promo spots informing me that Shawn is coming back next season, which is awesome, 'cause he's smokin hot.


8. Sometimes we actually have the conversations you fantasize that we have.
The photograph below followed several glasses of wine, a breadbasket, assorted appetizers and the fruit I stole from the bar for Hav which the waiter informed me he did not "appreciate" (Yeah dude, DUH! Wanna know what I'd appreciate? The goddamn mixed greens I asked for or the bread you're clearly like, harvesting the grain for as we speak. Then I wouldn't have to be diggin' for orange slices like a soccer mom at halftime):

Topics of Discussion over aforementioned drink/snack/meal:
First Girl Crushed On
First Girl-Kiss
First Girl Fucked
Various drugs and their reported vs. actual effects on sexual activity
Why Lesbians do it in the Bathroom, and while we're on that topic, let's talk about all the times we've had sex in the bathroom.

7.This is what I'm dealing with, people.
This is a little photo collage of various messes from my room, circa ten minutes ago.


6."You Girls Look like Models!" "We are!"
Preparing for our future as Friends Forever with our own beautiful houses in the beautiful land outside of NYC who will be doing lots of photo shoots for Vanity Fair.


5. Turning boxes (most not so clearly labeled as this one) into a a bedroom.


4.Everyone in this place was eating lobster except these two monkeys.
A sunset, seafood, cabernet, and a discussion of things like how good it feels to be teased, tied up, spanked and burnt by talented lovers. See the photostrip I created with my superior photoshopping skills. We're just absurdly, ridiculously cool.

3. Shelter from the Storm?
There was a bit of a storm here on Saturday. I was moving/setting shit up, and, like most of my quests to "be budget," my hunt for plywood quickly resulted in a more expensive affair: paying two five-foot-tall men in raincoats to carry a boxspring and a bedframe (which I purchased while totally soaking wet all over everything) to my apartment and put it together. Outside, the tsunami raged and fresh undergrads in Harlumbia giggled and puddle hopped.

2. Cruisin' Together/The Waterfront Seating Hunt


1. I spent a shitload of time in line at Duane Reade, obviously. E.g. just now. I rewarded myself for the thirty-year wait with some Reese's Sticks, which were quite tasty and I enjoyed eating them as I was heckled on my way home in my SupaLova sweatpants (aka I bought them at Big Dee's on 14th street and cut them up).

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.