December 22, 2003
Highlights from the past two weeks:
Went to some random party where I met Anne's roomate who is from Roosevelt Island. I had never actually met someone who was from Roosevelt island. As a matter of fact, even though it is less than a mile from Manhattan, the only thing I really knew about it was that you had to take this ski lift like contraption at 59th Street to get over there. I was told that the F train now stops there, so I'm planning an excursion. Especially when I read the history of the island. Not only was America's first "Municipal Lunatic Assylum" built there, but it also was officially called "Welfare Island", and some genius came up with the idea of sticking everyone infected with smallpox over there. Now I'm obsessed.
Liz was visiting that same weekend. So fun! I finally got to try out Relish with her and Kate. It was suprisingly good and reasonably priced.
I also went to Union Pool for my first time and am thrilled to death to report that they have those patio heaters under which to smoke. It makes all the difference in the world.
Saturday we went to see Mudhoney and Lubricated Goat at the Warsaw.
Reliving the grunge years - Always fun. Jay and his friend Rick stopped by to slum it in Brooklyn. Jay was rocking it old school with the disposable.
Highlight of the evening: running into the bass player of Mudhoney at Enid's and telling him his band rocked. Lowlight of the evening: Lisa Georgetti lighting my hair on fire. (And when I say fire I mean honest-to-god flames. I'm lucky I am not bald and blind in one eye... She immediately jumped in a cab following the incident.)
Speaking of grunge - Jim's favorite jeans had completely fallen apart and while he could live with holes in the knees, the crotch area was completely gone and wearing them was bordering on obscene. As my mom is a master seamstress we asked her to patch them up. Jim even supplied her with a patch in the same material and shade as the jeans themself. For some reason, completely unclear to us, she decided instead to go buy her own dark jean fabric and patch up every hole she saw with it. The results: The Grunge Pants. I tried to convince Jim to wear these to the Warsaw but he declined.
Your most important job at the office party is ensuring you have one the next day.
Jack White kicks the ass (and face) of a Von Bondie.
Christmas would not be complete without a story or two from the New Yorker
Oh, and if you love George Saunders like I do - read the story behind the writing of his story.
Santa's elves laid off. The Easter bunny is watching his ass.
Triumph the Insult Comic Dog speaks out.
John Stewart prepares for Indecision 2004.
I admit to having a soft spot for messy, opinionated, drug addled, unpredictable, antagonistic individuals. Thus my obsession with Courtney Love. But recently I've just started to feel like she's crazy. Not crazy in a bad ass way. Crazy in a "I need Lithium and a rubber room" way. And that really is no fun. Her new single can be found here.
Wait! I almost forgot...Moveon.org is running a contest called "Bush in 30 Seconds". You can find Jim M's submission here. The one he did called "Bush Murders Children" was turned down by the legal department of Moveon.org. What a shocker. Anyhoo, I would direct y'all to Moveon.org's site to view the spot, however, the way that contest site is set up SUCKS. There is no index of videos. So you have to randomly flip through hundreds of videos to find the one you are looking for. And to top it off, you are forced to vote on them to get to the next page. I'm begging you people, re-design immediately.
We spent all yesterday watching the DVD of The Office. The whole first season in one package. Definitely worth the money.
Nation's safest big city? New York of course. City where crime never sleeps? Detroit. We're definitely losing that New York - it-ain't-Kansas vibe when freaking Gary Indiana rates higher on the government's guide to dangerous cities.
History of celebrity sex tapes.
So I'm feeling a little code-orange at the moment and need to pack up my stuff and get out of town. Happy Holidays!
December 9, 2003
I vote in presidential elections. I always have. Not always for the candidates who are running - In the 1992 election I voted for myself as a write-in candidate. That year my polling center was located on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Upon hearing me ask for a write-in form, some random woman who filled out every stereotype of a female resident of the Upper East Side (fur, jewels, hair, dog) begged me and I mean BEGGED me to vote for Clinton. I held on to my principles, however misguided they were and basically opened an FBI file on myself.
During the last presidential election I was living in Virginia and voted for Nader. I do like Nader, but would not want him to be president of this country. He's a little too protectionist, a little too this-is-for-your-own-good for me, but since VA is a solidly Republican state I didn't feel like I was wasting my vote. Just voting for a third party.
This year I am voting for whatever Democrat is the forerunner. I don't care who it is...I am just voting against Bush.
In case you didn't click on the above link. This is the photo they have of Janeane:
When did this happen? Do I detect Botox? I think I do.
Speaking of looks - I actually think Renee Zelweger looks better with her Bridget Jones weight.
I didn't need a quiz to tell me this but it's nice to have confirmation of the fact:
You're a
True Punk. You know that punk isn't all
about studded jackets and mohawks. If you're
political, you're actually informed. Most of
the stuff you love is from before the 80s,
though you know bands like Fugazi kept the
spirit going.
You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
Report: Poor People Pretty Much Fucked.
December 8, 2003
Oh! We're watching the Hebrew Hammer right now...the cat in the dinner scene LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE OUR CAT BOB SAGET. We are freaking out. I have no idea why this is so exciting to us...We just love those damn cats.
December 6, 2003
"When I move you move. Just like that. When I move you move. Just like that.
That's all that's been going through my head for the past week. You should hear me rap. It's bad. Not bad meaning bad, but bad meaning GOOD. Naw, I'm kidding, I suck. I have to apologize to my co-workers for subjecting them to my lame hip-hop delivery on a daily basis.
Not so sure that approaching 720 adults at a street festival in San Francisco, asking them their sexual orientation, then measuring their fingers constitutes a legitimate study...but it did present some interesting results. So Jim was asleep a little while ago and I snuck into the bedroom and pulled out his hand (both hands were stuck under his pillow) and saw that his index finger is longer than his ring finger. So he wakes up later and goes "What were you doing with my hands while I was sleeping?" and I"m all "What?" and he's like "What were you doing with my hands while I was sleeping?" And I go "Nothing" and he goes "Yeah you were! You were looking at my hands while I was sleeping!" and I said "You're crazy". I mean, how am I gonna break it to him that he's not really a man?
[Note: Jim just read this and he showed me his hands while awake and his index finger is shorter than his ring finger. "That makes me all man Noreen." Point taken.]
Speaking of Jim - everytime a big truck goes by and blows its horn Jim shouts "I'm rich Beyotch!" (reference to Chapelle's Show) and every single time it makes me laugh. That show is funny. No one seems to like it.
I wasted ridiculous time on this yesterday. Now you can too.
The NY Post published this list of "party pooping" problems. When you can't remember the name of the person you are talking to they suggest saying "Hey pal!" but not "Hey chief!, "Hey big guy!" or "Hey you!". I've never heard someone use "Hey chief!" but I will attest that "Hey you!" is basically akin to yelling out "What the fuck is your name!?"
Yeah, I don't know what kind of parties these people attend but if being dressed in the same outfit as somebody else is the worst thing that can happen to you, its not really a party now is it? Why are your guests wearing clothing to begin with?
Some real party pooping problems:
The bathroom door is locked, yet no one has gone in or come out in at least a half an hour.
Answer: First listen for sounds inside at the door and check under the door jam to see if there are moving shadows. If there is noise and/or movement in the bathroom - obviously people are in there either having sex or doing drugs. Just start banging loudly and screaming "hey what are you guys doing in there!? Get the hell outta the bathroom! Got any more coke?!" The door should open and the participants will sheepishly exit. Or they may get up in your face like "Hey, I was sick alright! Why don't you shut the hell up?!" Either way the bathroom is yours.
If there is no movement or noise whatsoever, someone has passed out in the bathroom. Feel free to kick the door in.
The neighbors complain.
This one you really should have taken care of in advance. Make sure you invite your neighbors to your party. If you are like me, you don't know these people at all, and they don't know you, thus they don't wanna come to your stupid party. But the fact that you informed them you would be having a party and even invited them will make them less inclined to call the police as they are no longer operating under the cloak of annonymity. Calling the police on the raging kegger in apartment 3G is a lot easier than calling the police on that sweet girl who invited you to her party.
If they do call the police, make sure you take your revenge later. Ignore them when you see them in the hall, when they are coming in the building after you don't hold the door, jam toothpicks in their mailbox lock so they can't get their key in to check their mail, apply for tons of free offensive mailings, magazines, etc and have them sent to their address, talk shit about them to your other neighbors, expose them as jerks they really are on the internet... you get the picture. Please contact me if you need more suggestions.
A fight starts.
If this is merely a verbal altercation everyone else in the room should just pretend they don't notice what is happening, while lowering their voices so they can hear every word. Then you can gossip about the scene for the rest of the evening.
If the situation actually comes to blows, you can use the old standby "You're gonna have to take it outside". Or simply take out your gun and say something along the lines of "Just give me a reason bitch." and it should be all over.
You run outta drugs.
Get a delivery service for christ's sake.
Some guy pukes on your floor/porch/whatever.
First of all you are at a really lame party if nobody pukes. So pat yourself on the back for a shindig well done. Then the puker has got to go. If he's that drunk it should be no problem to shove him out the door.
Oh I have puking story! Um...I'm gonna have to supply a little history here: Years ago my brother choked at the diner table. His air passage was completely blocked - he didn't make a sound. It took a while for us to even realize he was choking (he did not make the universal choking sign - two hands to the throat - he just sat there looking like a constipated child). Ends up that I was the only one who knew how to do the heimlich maneuver in the house. (Luckily enough one of the only graduation requirements at my highschool was CPR class.) So as I screamed at my parents to call an ambulance, I tried to give my brother the heimlich. And tried...and tried...It didn't work the way it did on the dummies at school. I had to heimlich him like, no joke, twenty times. Kevin is 6' 2" and I am not, and trying to get the right angle on his stomach was near impossible. And then, when the roast beef was finally dislodged there was no dramatic meat-flying-across-the-room moment. Kevin just leaned over and it kinda dropped out. The whole scene was deeply horrifying.Ok, so back to the here and now: Jim and Kevin and I were all at my parents house for thanksgiving. It was late. My parents just went to bed and the rest of us are in the living room watching television. Jim went into the kitchen alone and makes some sort of gagging/choking/coughing sound. As we are obviously scarred from the Kevin choking incident of 1992, any time someone clears their throat in that house my entire family jumps to attention. As we did. We bum rushed the kitchen and then all stood there in the doorway while Jim heaved over the sink. Someone said "oh, he's just vomitting" and we all felt better. And stood there and watched him puke some more. Then dispersed. Jim thinks my family is weird.
Paper magazine published a discussion between a bunch of guys who did not make the cut on the casting call for Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Michael Musto's comment made me laugh out loud on the subway:
"Michael: At the end of my audition they said, 'Give us a hip tip,' and I said, 'Sample sales and Fischerspooner.' I thought they were going to vomit."
It's that time of year again. Time to spread some holiday cheer and love. How cool is it that there is a time of year that we decorate everything with twinkling lights, midgets dress up as elves, overindulgence is not only tolerated, but promoted and we all get new stuff?
I hope you have all read the Santaland Diaries by David Sedaris but if not: listen up fool.
Speaking of fools, I pity the one that doesn't get me this for X-mas.
Or how about some Prozac earings? I'm flexible people, c'mon!
December 4, 2003
So I'm sick. That means lots of time on my hands cooped up in the house...Alright, alright I'm making excuses for my behavior. I admit it, I've been on friendster. I have been looking up random people and flipping through profiles. And I just have to say that I am so very, very impressed that Stacy managed to post photos of herself with Ozzy Osborne, Joe Strummer AND ICE-MOTHERFUCKING-T. Rock.
The Simple Life: Does watching it make me a bad person? Does the fact that I could watch it every night make me worse?
link... link ... link... link...I'm obsessed.
This is a strange and disturbing story. I am almost feel bad posting it. Almost...
December 2, 2003
Day 11.
I have been sick for eleven days now. Eleven days is a short time if it is full of dancing and singing and candy and bunnies but eleven days of constant headache, sore throat, coughing and snot is a very, very long time. Endless in fact. My trip to Boston is a total Nyquil induced blur. I slept. A lot.
I went out three times. Once to the park for a walk where I disturbed some geese who were just minding their own business. They wouldn't let me within five feet of them. Thus, they were forced to circle the pond as I trailed after them snapping photos.
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I lasted like a half an hour...
Next, I tried to do my x-mas shopping. Jim drove me to a mall... yes, a mall. The Cambridgeport mall to be exact. I became overwhelmed and overheated and couldn't even shop for shoes. That's when you know shit is rough.
My final attempt to socialize with other humans was to go see Elephant. Man, that movie blew. What's up? What's with all the awards and hoopla? What is wrong with my man Van Sant? Ok - picture this - I follow you through a high school hallway with a camera. Then I follow your friend. Then I follow your other friend. Then I splice the footage together so that there is no linear timeline whatsoever. Your friends pretend to shoot up the place. Two boys have sex in a shower...You just saw Elephant. Pretty, but vapid.
Hope I didn't ruin that for anyone.
Oh, the blonde kid is hot. I think I have the same taste in boys as Gus.
So my trip to Boston was basically a bust. Sad.
What is IPod's dirty secret? That they wear out after about 18 months. Serious, yo. IPods have an internal rechargeable battery, and when the battery dies, the IPod is worthless. Sadly, thishappened to Jim's IPod. He was obviously pissed and cursing Apple's name...but you see here's the problem - he was hooked. Those IPods are addictive man. He stayed away for months, no music, no access to the ITunes store, trying to use his old discman, all the time coveting my still-working IPod. Last week he broke down and bought a new one. Protest Apple!
Speaking of protests, what happened to Chris G. running for office in Greenpoint? Represent, Chris. I don't know his complete platform, I only remember that he was against the proposed power station, he wanted the old Williamsburg public pool made into a skatepark and he wanted to re-open the fire house the city recently closed. Sadly, if the station hadn't closed maybe 29 families wouldn't be homeless for Christmas. Chris is also anti-squirrel and pro-pelican. He has my vote.
Real World real-life sex assault.
Well then intern as one.
Blalking and emauling. The wave of the future.
"HOY HOY!"
- We all know this is how Monty Burns answers the phone, but do we know why? Check out some subtle references from the Simpsons.
My first selection from Netflix? Dark Days. Good documentary with a suprisingly uplifting ending.
Whoa, that reminds me...we saw a preview for Prisoner of Paradise before enduring Elephant the other night...I don't think there will be any uplifting ending on this one, but I definitely wanna see it. Ok, Prisoner of Paradise opens throughout December in these select cities: New York City; Beverly Hills & Encino, California and... Brookline, Massachusetts?
That damn Brookline connection again.
My bus ride back to NYC:
love, noreen.
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