Saturday, February 28, 2009

How very strange...

I am an hour early to work. Why? Because for some reason, my mind decided to play tricks on me and I thought it was 9:15 when it was 8:15. I'm probably losing it, you know. I didn't even realize until I got here and was thinking everyone else was late.

Funny. I think I was just kind of stuck in my own head this morning so much that I failed at time. These are the things I was thinking about:

1. How irritating adults who think they're adorable are. The other night one of the ladies from work and I went out to Bin Wine Cafe, for the delicious sparkling Pinot Noir- which is my favorite thing ever... and there were totally a pair of same-side-of-the-booth-sitters. Is that appropriate? In a place where you're drinking wine? I mean, I'm opposed to it in diners- and there are people that think that makes me a bit prim... but in a normal restaurant? You have to admit that's weird.

I am not adorable. As an adult, I understand this. I refuse to strive to elicit "Awww's!" from others. I am much too tall for that.

2. I've decided that a dude who tries to cheat on his girlfriend with you after having dated her for two months is more of a cheesedick than the married guy who tries to cheat on his wife of several years with you. I get this a lot. For some reason, I get a lot of dudes who think I'm like, some magically understanding, non-involved third party. I'm not even really human- I'm like some hookerwithaheartofgold/headshrinker/figmentofyourimagination thing. If I had a dollar for every "If only the world were different, and I didn't have these wretched societal obligations! I could be a free spirit like you are! You don't understahnd! You can just do whatever you want!" or whatever speech I'd heard in my life I'd be a bajillionaire or something. But anyway- this is the thing, and I'm not saying it's cool either way... I just think it's way weirder to try to cheat on someone you just started dating than someone you've been with forever and share a bank account and possibly children with. And yes, I understand that it's like, a way bigger and more important commitment. But the dating is far easier to get out of, I imagine. Especially if it's new. You can just break up with that person. I break things off all the time. Although I do it by not answering my phone- that may not be the route for you. You may be fond of talks. I might be entirely wrong about this, but, well, it was 8 in the morning, what do you want from me?

- Oh, I can start working now. I'll finish this later. There were quite a few more... all equally ridiculous

Friday, February 27, 2009

Varied and Sundry

1. I have taken up the peculiar habit of drinking straight lemon juice.
2. It is possibly not the best of all ideas to have two glasses of sparkling pinot noir (which, if you were wondering, is the best thing ever), two vodka and seven-ups, and two glasses of sangria. While I am not hungover, I am still a bit nauseated. But I'm in a *splendid* mood, so it doesn't matter.
3. I've been back from Rhode Island for several days now, and still my accent is lingering and popping up here and there. I suspect it was on full force last night. Which is irritating because I get really bothered and self conscious anyway when people feel the need to shriek "I just heard your accent!" at me when I say certain words.
4. As usual, we've had a drop-out for Sunday's Show. So now I've got to scramble and find me another dude to read. Eek! I might have to drop the gender parity concept, because it's way harder to get guys involved- oddly, I think they're just not that comfortable with the subject matter.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Good Skin

I feel pretty importantly about good skin. So much so that I once plotted to moisturize a man in his sleep. It's true. So... I thought I'd share with you my absolute favorite skin trick. Mostly because I don't quite feel like going off to work just yet.

All you need is Albolene (if you don't have any, run over to Walgreens and get some. It's the cheapest miracle worker ever) and a business card/credit card/ID of some sort. Smear the albolene all over your face, more thickly than you normally would. Leave it for about 15 minutes, and then scrape it off with the card. Then put it on again and massage your face for about ten minutes. Then, scrape it off again with the card.

And that's it. It's a little gross, especially because a couple layers of skin are going to come off with the Albolene, and if you haven't exfoliated in a while, it might be a bit, well, black. But I promise you'll look prettier afterwards. It's true. And now, off to work.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

I need to get out more

I have just been ever so Garbo-esque lately- not because I've managed to figure out being mysterious (I'm just not. I've accepted it.) , but because I've barely left the house lately. I actually think I haven't been out-out since the last show (and the next one is this Sunday). There are several reasons for this:

1. Stupid recession. No one has money to go anywhere.
2. It's cold and I don't so much feel like going outside to smoke.
3. I sort of got out of the habit, mostly because I avoided going to my usual places for a while because I was avoiding various sorts of unpleasant confrontations with various Mr. Goodbars.
4. I am doing lots and lots of writing
5. I was, after all, quite sick for about a week there. That might have something to do with it.
6. Oh, and then I went to Rhode Island this past weekend.

Maybe I don't know what I'm talking about.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Movies I Think You Should See (That Are Free Online)

For your convenience, and because I love you, I have compiled a list of some of my all time favorite movies that you can actually see online, for free! Yay!

Now, Voyager - If we are at all aquainted, you've probably heard me mention this movie at least 45,000 times. Bette Davis is spinster aunt who gets sent to Claude Rains' sanitarium, gets a makeover, goes on a cruise, meets Paul Heinreid and is all sorts of glamorous and selfless, and you will cry at the end. A lot.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - "Why do I always feel like a cat on a hot tin roof?" Because you *are* hot, Elizabeth Taylor. And so is Paul Newman. Burl Ives, not so much, but the other two make up for it.

The Philadelphia Story - Starring Katherine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and Jimmy Stewart. Kate plays a fiery socialite set to marry a kind of lame nouveau riche type dude, Cary Grant is her far more exciting ex husband, and Jimmy Stewart is a journalist covering the wedding. It's yar, darling, really it is.

Holiday - Another picture starring Katherine Hepburn as a fiery socialite and Cary Grant as a love interest, except this time it's Grant who's engaged to the lame person, Hepburn's sister in the movie.

Dark Victory- "I'll have a large order of prognosis negative!" Another Bette Davis picture, which could have been ruined by the presence of Ronald Reagan in it, but is not. Also, a young Humphrey Bogart is so retardedly sexy in this movie that you may have to fan yourself.

The Lady From Shanghai - "I told you, you know nothing about wickedness." I promise you that this movie will rock your face. If you've never seen it, you ought to be ashamed of yourself.

Camille - My favorite book, movie, and opera. Greta Garbo stars as Marguerite Gautier, the original hooker with a heart of gold (also, consumption). You actually may want to watch this before "Now, Voyager" to get some of the references.

Grand Hotel - If you were ever wondering what movie it was where Garbo says "I vant to be left alone"- it would be this one. And it is glorious.

Affair in Trinidad - Since "Gilda" is not available, here is another teaming of Rita Hayworth and Glenn Ford, where Miss Hayworth is a glamorous femme fatale, that I happen to be especially fond of.

Horsefeathers- I heart the Marx Brothers. This movie includes the song "Everyone Says I Love You" and is generally quite awesome.


Friday, February 13, 2009

Triskaidekaphobia? Not so much.

You should know that in the third grade, one of my favorite hobbies was spelling that word- so, despite the Murphy's Law aspect of my life, I have no ill will towards Friday the 13th. I like Friday the 13th. Friday the 13th comes right out and says "You know what, shit's probably going to go wrong today"- I like a honest holiday. Not like Thanksgiving, which never says anything about the fact that while you're being grateful and bonding with your family, that you're probably going to get into a giant fight with your sister and one of you will end up leaving the table in a huff. New Year's talks only of champagne and confetti, and never mentions that you're going to accidentally make out with some dork who will message you on Facebook a few days later to let you know that he is not looking for anything serious (Oh, the egos on these boys, really! I suspect we're all going to have to get some pins that state "Oh for godsakes, I don't want to be your freakin' girlfriend! I don't even like you that much! I'm just bored!" so as to avoid future confusion).

Friday the 13th is just like any other day, just more honest. Tomorrow is Valentines Day, the time of year where I stealthily avoid any and all Gentleman Callers and watch horror movies and drink wine with my girlfriends. Meanwhile, every dude on earth will be stressed out trying to plan shit, and every woman on earth will be slightly disappointed but trying to pretend she isn't. Awkwardness all around.

Thursday, February 12, 2009


This morning I was late for work because my dresser attacked me, so I had to take a cab. No big deal. I get into the cab, and see that the driver appears to be rather dishy. Well, I don't know that he was dishy as much as he was wearing a tweed sportscoat... and I have a longstanding weakness for men in tweed sportscoats. But anyway, we got to talking, and he was a Frenchman from Algiers, and then proceded to explain colonization to me, which I explained that I understood from having taken history classes and reading Camus. Also, there's a movie with Hedy Lamarr. Then we got to talking about Italy, and how it's pretty much the best place ever, By the time we got to my stop, dude was still chatting about the train from Naples to Palermo for like, five minutes, which was cool because I ended up being a little early anyway.

But then he turned around. Dude had like four teeth in his head and they were all black. Shiny black, like an oil slick. It was nothing if not disturbing. And he wasn't even that old- he was only a little older than me. How does that even happen? I mean, you'd basically have to not brush your teeth for 20 years straight, right? I've never seen anything like it.

As a result, I have flossed four times today.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

A Mature Model Who Sizzles for Clients

The girls at my work totally get me (and my deep, nearly obsessive love for fantastically terrible things), which is why when this lady came in and dropped off a brochure of sorts for her "services" they totally saved it for me.

It is, without a doubt, one of the greatest single things I have ever encountered. It's in the shape of a purse, hand decorated with a sharpie. And on the outside it states:

"With customers clutching their pocketbooks this winter as tightly as their
coats, 2009 is proving to be a challenging marketplace..."

But it gets better! on the inside it reads:

"Let's brainstorm ways to make your business irresistibly "hot" in 2009.

As a model/actress/spokeswoman, a writer and creative producer, I'd
like to discuss ways we can create an event tailored to your store.

What makes me different is I am a model who not only can wear a size
6, but a mature model with whom your customers will
immediately identify
--- and I have the experience to interact with your
customers and bring the sale home.

Whether you are already planning a modeling event of your merchandise, or would like to consider asking me to create something special at your store contact me at (email address).

Looking forward to meeting you at your earliest convenience."
And then there are the pictures. Which I would feel bad about posting, but like, picture Susan Powter in a Glamour Shot wearing one of the hat's from In Living Color's "Men on Film"


(Except with sequins! And photoshopped eyelashes!)

And on the side of these pictures, it reads "A Mature Model Who Sizzles For Clients."

Now, of course this is hilarious. However, I have decided that this lady is in fact my new hero. Because clearly, she wakes up in the morning, looks in the mirror and thinks she's the best ever. I do not. I wake up in the morning, and look in the mirror and think I look a bit like Marla Singer- not in a hot way- just because I forgot to take my eyeliner off last night. I don't sizzle, nor do I make any claims otherwise. I hardly have low self esteem, but any delusions of grandure I might have are nothing in comparison with hers. I kind of want them. My goal this year is to come up with a shit ton of fake sounding jobs and then go around offering my non-existant services. Also, to have a fancy picture in a sequinned hat.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Comparitively, Your Love Life is Pretty Boring

We all have *things* that we love. I love my non-functional lamp, One-Arm Juanita; my shoebox full of pictures of people I don't know; terrible/wonderful things I've found at dollar stores and flea markets; books; crates full of clementines... etc. But, um, there are some people who have things that they love love. Like, romantically. And sexually. And no, they don't require batteries.

Meet the Objectum Sexuals. One lady is married to the Eiffel Tower. Another to the Berlin Wall. Another to some weird German amusement park ride.

Watch Married To The Eiffel Tower [Part 1] View More Free Videos Online at

The rest of the insanely amazing doumentary can be found here. I guess you could say it's sad that they've had such crappy relationships with people that they've convinced themselves that they are in relationships with inanimate objects and monuments, but I'm kind of happy for them, actually. Like, if that's what gets them through the day, and they're into it, I don't see much harm in it- I just find it fascinating. Although I will be avoiding touching certain areas of the Eiffel Tower on my next trip overseas.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

HA! I told you Etta wasn't going to be happy about that.

You know, sometimes people say "I hate to say I told you so"- I don't. I love to say I told you so. It's one of my favorite things to do. It makes me feel vindicated. I like feeling vindicated.

And so it goes with this. Now, after the innauguration, many people had the pleasure of hearing me kvetch about Beyonce singing "At Last" while Etta James was alive and well and in fact still touring. I was not pleased with it. And I knew, deep in my heart of hearts, that Etta wasn't either. "Maybe she was sick with a cold!" some people said, "Maybe she *wanted* to pass on the torch (song)" said others, but I knew, I just knew, that Etta was not pleased, and did not sign off on that.

I win. Also, if there is in fact a fight, my money is on Etta.


I just read this article in AdAge about the Verizon Wireless commercial featuring Italian American stereotypes, and I've been seeing more and more like it lately. I've been trying for some time (like, 18 drafts worth) to iterate how I feel about this sort of thing. It's not easy. I'm not really sure how these stereotypes affect me. For the most part, I don't feel like they do, and I don't feel like I identify with them other than "oh, some people on the outskirts of my family are a bit like that, maybe." Also, I have little issue with people assuming I could have them killed at my whim.

But then again, I do get some things here and there. "You must be crazy/have a bad temper" is a big one. I was once told that I didn't "seem Italian" by some dude from Indiana, which was kind of shocking (I told him I left my gondola and dancing monkey at home)- but then again, he was from Indiana. I've been told I'm "white," "ethnic white," "mediterannean" and "not white, Italian" by various people. At the same time, I am the recipient of white privilege more often than not. Race, darlings, is a social construction.

The stereotype of (younger) Italian women as vamps and femme fatales is something I have both benefited from and been negatively affected by. As a result, I am cautious when dating men who are more "officially white in a midwestern sort of way," because I've had a lot of issues with those types making assumptions about me based on my ethnicity, or seeing me as somehow less important than girls who are non-ethnically white.

Truth be told, however, I think that "The Godfather" and movies like it actually helped the Italian American community more than anything. People forget- hell, I forget- that when Italians first came here, we were not exactly welcome. The largest lynching in history was of 11 Italians in New Orleans, not to mention Sacco and Vanzetti, and internment camps in WWII. After The Godfather came out... they didn't really fuck with us so much, did they? Not to mention the fact that well, weird as it sounds, it made us look really cool. It made being Italian something people would want to be if they could, rather than something they looked down upon. It didn't, like so many other portrayals, make us look buffoonish and ignorant (well, except for Fredo)- but rather extremely perceptive and intelligent- if a bit calculating.

I tend to laugh a bit at Olive Garden commercials and the like, but I don't totally fault people for thinking that the Italian American concept of family is an aspirational one. It's one of the things I think is kind of awesome about us.

We tend to participate in our own stereotyping more than other ethnicities do, but a lot of that is because, despite the whole American "melting pot" thing, we've held onto our ethnic heritage and customs pretty tightly. Which is pretty cool, for the most part.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

I am now convinced that Andy Kaufman is alive and in charge of Christianity

There's just no other explanation anymore- this shit is just getting too freaking hilarious:

But wait... there's more! The comments are also genius- per essample:

WOW !!!! To Glory be to God forever the
ex-masturbatur [SIC] t-shirt is blazin hott [SIC] got to purchase me one i'm a witness that freely by grace through faith proceeding with true repentance JESUS is a habit breaker. I struggled wth masturbation and was bound by my own self ambiton [SIC] at times when I wanted to worship God my sprit [SIC] was willing , but my flesh was weak so when I realized I had a problem and ask God to examine my heart he uveiled [SIC] my mask and wicked heart Christ broke me down and renewed my mind I have'nt [SIC] been the same since.

I'm telling you, this is a work of comic genius. Someone decided to see what ridiculously embarrassing sort of attire they could convince people to wear in the name of Jebus, and came up with this. I'm getting them for all of my friends. I also recommend you watch their movie, and giggle maniacally each time the girl talks about people being "in bondage to masturbation." Unless, you know, you're more mature than I am or something. Which I doubt.

Allen says: That God sure is petty, running around being worried about people touching themselves...

via Feministe

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Because Diet Coke Is For Pussies?

Last night, I was innocently watching Heroes and trying to figure out what the hell was going on, when I saw a charming commercial for "Pepsi Max." It's a new diet cola... for men!

Soda as a gendered product kind of blows my mind. I remember when Tab came out with that whole pink can, it's a cola for women thing... but I don't recall that taking off so well. My dad has been drinking Diet Coke (Caffeine Free!) for as long as I can remember, and I just cannot fathom any dude I know getting all "Oh, no thanks, that soda is for the ladies, it might make my dick fall off. Thank goodness they're making a diet soda for my needs now!" Really, just outside of it being bizarrely sexist for no apparent reason... they're addressing a need that I'm pretty sure isn't there. I've seen some unnecessarily gendered products before, but mostly they were from other countries, such as this candy bar, which I saw once at the World Market:

They use a special kind of ball enhancing chocolate maybe?

And this, which I see in Chinatown:

It's not subtle, I'll tell you that much. The thing is, there are lots of products that are marketed specifically towards one gender (cleaning products, yogurt, power tools, cars, etc.)- but this direct "It's for men!! Manly men!!!" direct approach seems especially disconcerting.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Isn't this what we had a third wave for?

I just read this article in the Guardian about political lesbianism- or rather, the idea of women "becoming" lesbians as a feminist statement.

Um.... No.

I call shennanigans. For one, um... that is one choice you don't choose. If we say that women can magically become lesbians to fight the patriarchy or whatever, than we give credence to religious weirdos who think they can turn gay people straight with a dash of holy water. It just doesn't work like that. For another- didn't we get over that shit when the third wave happened? My mom stopped going to a lot of feminist meetings because she got a bunch of shit for being a "breeder" because she was married to my dad (who happens to be awesomely feminist). The reason for my mother's feminism in the first place was because she didn't take kindly to people telling her what to do or how to be, so that just didn't sit well. Also, I think men are perfectly capable of being feminist, and in fact expect them to be. Or else. But how will they become more feminist if we go off into the wilderness to hold potlucks and sing Joni Mitchell or whatever?

I, obviously, think it's swell that my mom was a "breeder"- and not just because I wouldn't exist if she wasn't. She raised me as a feminist, she raised me as a woman who would never even consider that she was inferior for even a second, she raised me to be smart and funny and to not take any shit, she raised me to understand gender socialization, and to know that Barbie was not an accurate representation of what a woman should look like. I consider myself especially lucky in this aspect of my life. She also helped my dad, who came from an insanely chauvinistic culture, understand feminism, and become a feminist himself. He went on to help create diversity training programs for companies like his own that are still used today. What's more awesome than that? That is feminism in action.

If feminists retreat from the system, feminism will never *be* the system. And it should be. This sort of "we'll just take our toys and go home" feminism is totally unhelpful, and assuming that all men are out to get you is prejudicial and also, um, crappy. How can we expect men to be feminist, and to reject male privilege if we go off on our own, ignore them and refuse to tell them what that even entails?

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Varied and Sundry- Superbowl Edition?

  • Last night, we went to the Darkroom and I debuted my fancy new Joan Holloway dress with my glorious red shoes. If you think you're sick of hearing about it now, just wait until you see me wearing it every time you see me, because wearing it as a uniform is the only way I can justify it's purpose.
  • Speaking of uniforms, some unfortunate looking creature wearing a lavender paisley ascot comes up to us last night (for the third time) and asks me if I am an airline stewardess. Mind you, dude was wearing a fucking lavender paisley ascot. Who is he to judge my fabulous dress.
  • I am going to my first Superbowl Party ever today. I know nothing of football. I will be the girl bringing the brie and petits toasts.
  • Mr. Catface is being a nudge. He wants to make sweet love to my laptop.
  • We talked last night about crying in bars. I have an excessive amount of pride and don't cry much, and have thus only cried in public once. It was in the bathroom at Orzo's, and it was my lady time, and the boy I was with (whom I was retardedly smitten with at the time, despite his conservative leanings, possibly because he resembled True Love Elvis Costello and liked horror movies) started making fun of anti-war protesters. Which, you know, I was. I got really upset because I felt like everything I liked about myself and was proud of was something he thought he'd have to overlook. I don't know, but I totally lost it. It was worlds of embarassing- and it was a bajillion years ago, but I still get redfaced thinking about it.
  • I have no idea about what I am going to wear today. I really have to do my laundry. I do not want to go to work. I want to stay in bed with Mr. Catface and eat clementines.