May 31, 2004
Hare Krishnas stay away, 'cause 18 bands are gonna play!
Murphy's Law opened for Andrew WK last Wednesday and Lisa and I spent half the time pointing at the stage going, "Oh my god, is that....?" All these familiar faces from back when we used to see that band on a monthly basis were there. That's back a long, long time ago in a period we like to call "the eighties".
And then, after the show, by the t-shirt table, I saw one of the guys who used to roadie for Slapshot and felt compelled to go up and say hi.
"Hi...Wrecking Machine? It's Noreen," pointing at myself. "How are you?"
It only occured to me later that I was addressing a middle aged man by some punk rock nom-de-plum he used to go by and that it might have made more sense to use his actual birth name, Jon.
In a funny coincidence, he showed me, by way of his cell phone, that he had been talking to my ex-boyfriend only hours earlier.
In an even funnier small world incident the next day, I got a letter from my mom containing the cover of the Living Section of the Boston Globe. The article was on fashions that gay people are wearing to get married in Cambridge and Boston. It was slightly confusing, as there was no note from her pertaining to the article, and I didn't know if she thought I would be into the gay marraige thing or the fashions. (And I use the word "fashion" loosely.) Then I realized that the first photo on the page had Hank in it. Hank also used to roadie for Slapshot and he was the minister at my own wedding. A tiny, microscopic world, I tell you.
And now some words of wisdom from two of my favorite people: John Stewart and George Saunders.
Happy Memorial Day!
May 28, 2004
No time for chit-chat today folks. Just funny pictures like this:
Click here to see more stupidity.
May 26, 2004
I have been bugging Jennie about sending me photos from Friday night, because I was obsessed with one of the pictures I saw on the camera where Lisa W. looked just like Ozzy. I got them today. I was not disappointed.
What is UP? This photo is INCREDIBLE.
Now for more normal ones where I seem to resemble my mother:
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Does Chase totally look like a perv in that picture with me and Jim or is that just me?
Republicans learned how to google-bomb and the best they came up with was "waffles"? Try dumb motherfucker.
The Guardian reports that Iran may have duped the US into the Iraq war and happily, George Bush's approval rating sinks to an all time low.
Where to get your anti-Bush fashion.
MTV to start gay network and Noreen wants a job. I have network experience! I worked for UPN! Although, that may be counted against me. Seriously, besides America's Top Model I don't think I watched any of that network programing. Oh except for Shasta McNasty - that's some shit.
So mean, but it made me laugh and reminded me that I have Pixies tickets. Yeah, that's right, we are going to see the Pixies in Camden New Jersey, and I don't even know where that is. Psyche!
May 25, 2004
Happy birthday to me, I live like a flea....sing along eveyone...
Ok, my birthday has already came and went but I am reminded of it this very moment because I just tried out this "Venom Flash" that Anne gave me. The package says "spicy, tingly lip venom spiked with subtle silver shimmer." And I do admit, that is some nice subtle silver shimmer. But damn! This shit burns! Is that supposed to be part of the whole thing? Like it gives you some quasi-allergic reaction so that your lips blow up? Cos my lips feel as if they are growing exponentially.
Anyway, what I really want for my birthday, besides all the cool gear I already racked up (and we're talking Hipster brand shot glasses and Francis Ford-Coppola wine amongst the booty) is a piece of real estate. So somebody who has experience buying property in NYC needs to school me pronto on how to board the mothership. I am lost, I tell you. I would prefer that this person have an actual condo to offer me at a too-good-to-be-true price as well. I'm not that demanding and we do not take up that much space. I just ask that I get to keep the cats. No really, where do people find their places? On craigslist? Do I need a good real estate agent? Is there such thing as a good real estate agent? Is everyone trying to rip me off? Is this a master level game of chicken that I am not ready to play? Should I get Botox so that they can't read my facial expressions? Advise, please!
And now I just realized that I left a friggin cheesecake on my desk at work on top of all my papers and crap and it is most likely defrosting and fucking my shit up. My coworkers, bless their hearts, bought me a cheesecake for my birthday. Cheesecake. Who eats cheesecake? Who even knows where to purchase one of these so called cheese-cakes? Everybody, and I mean EVERYBODY, knows I am obsessed with chocolate, and yet I get a friggin cheesecake. And of course it is customary to sit and eat a piece of your birthday cake in front of everyone. So it took me like 5 minutes to choke down a sliver of the offending cake with a full bottle of water. Next they are all up my ass about taking the cake home. And my claims to be on a diet, to be diabetic, to have a sudden allergic reaction to cheese all fell on deaf ears. So I just left without it. I come in today and there's a note for me "Noreen. Your cake is still in the fridge!" I then tried to pawn the cake off repeatedly on the D. the marketing assistant thinking, like Mikey, he'll eat anything. But no. He now claims to be on diet too. So my next plan was that I would leave the office at the end of the day with cake in tow and slip it to an unsuspecting homeless person or trash it on the corner. And now I realize that instead I left it on top of my desk and it is melting gooey, sweet cheese all over my paper work. Damn.
I had two fun birthday nights in a row. On my actual birthday we went to Daily Chow for dinner and then on to Otto's Shrunken Head for flaming bowls of cheap liquor. The best part was that not only the alcohol was on fire, but all the little umbrellas they put in it were in flames as well. It was a fun,very unplanned evening. Then I actually invited people over to Pete's Candy Store on Friday night. I did however neglect to tell the people that we were in the backyard, causing some to wander the streets aimlessly while others had to call in for location. I apologize for that. In the future if you are ever meeting me at Pete's I am in the backyard.
Oh, and Jennie, send me your photos!
May 19, 2004
"Let's divy up those blankets!" Don's first words on Colonial House.
Are you watchin? huh? I am loving it. I am holding Don's comment about "2oth century women" against him. I also have his discman which he may or may not see at the end of the series, depending on the way the editors choose to portray him, and thus what I think of him. But he is on my television right now swearing and protesting the sabbath, so I think we will still be down.
Saturday night went to "sucking at life" at KCDC. I can't remember the name of the artist, but we totally dug this Where-the-Wild-Things-Are-type work some guy did. And free beer!
Then we went to see The Briefs at Northsix. They made me jump up and down and wish that I too, had thought to wear a telephone cord around my neck. Punk rock.
Then it was on to Sweetwater, where the bartender gave us free shots of some whiskey based concoction that I definitely should not have been imbibing. Because it made me think it was a good idea to go on from there to Seth's house and drink 40 ouncers all night. What? I know. Jim left me there at some point in the late night/early morning in the company of two strangers known to me only as Olga and Uncle Hector. I stumbled in sometime that morning verging on a panic attack over the fact that Jim's parents were due to show up that morning in Brooklyn. Whoops.
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Sweetwater is number one!
Jim M. sent me a variety of poop links the other day that I will in turn share with y'all: poop, more poop, poop again, poop comin' at ya, and some shitbegone paper.
I saw this ebay link and immediately thought of my friend Rob who has a bunch of Ghostbuster-loving (some might say obsessed) friends. And then I found out it wasn't even one of his friends - there are more of these people out there! Check out the short film Bustin Makes Me Feel Good, that Rob and his friends made wearing their own homemade packs.
May 10, 2004
Prize for the most vile, misogynist rant masquerading as a movie review goes to Mark Ames at the NY Press. He can't himself, he has a small dick. Micropenis, I hear.
Man survives six nails in the skull.
Presidential advisor Karen Hughes speaking about abortion rights in America:
"I think after September 11th the American people are valuing life more and realizing that we need policies to value the dignity and worth of every life...particularly at a time when we're facing an enemy, and really the fundamental difference between us and the terror network we fight is that we value every life..."
Good lord, I love when people invoke 9/11 to support their views. I do it all the time. It lends such validity to a point that may otherwise not be taken seriously. You know, because the perfect way to exercise the freedoms that we in this country at times take for granted is to smoke in bars. Ain't nothing more American than tobacco. No where more public than a bar. Cry freedom, my friends.
Sign the petition asking Hughes to apologize to women.
IQ as it relates to voting preference. No surprises here, except... the population of Conneticut has the highest average IQ? I tend to think of Conneticut as a very large pit stop between Boston and NYC - all highway, gas stations and Mickey D's. I have been mistaken for all these years.
Beacon's Closet is a total Garment District rip-off down to the pink and black color scheme. Jim went and sold clothes there today and got a whopping $12. Easier to leave everything in front of the house for the homeless to pick up.
Jim's belly sans moles:
May 5, 2004
Fresh Direct comes to my neighborhood! I have been waiting for this day for a very long time. Now I need a new excuse for delivery every night.
This week, The Shining re-enacted in 30 seconds by bunnies.
Antidepressants. Created to make everyone happy. But everyone knows that they completely demolish your sex drive. Now they are found to kill romance too. Where's the happy in all that?
May 3, 2004
Let's see, boy draws picture of Bush's head on a stick. What would you do? Call the secret service, of course.
Vincent Gallo chocolate. Chocolate, yet somehow unappetizing.
Cost fucked Madonna, I forgot what Revs did. In the early 90's they were everywhere. Now there's a book?
Writers listen up, annonymous peoples want your fart stories.
An alcoholic writer, a whore and an artist on zoloft. I think I've lived with these guys before.
Hubert Selby's last exit. Yeah, I had to go for that.
Torture at Abu Ghraib. The photos are horrifying. You can go to the memory hole to view them for yourself, plus a lot of other things you are not supposed to see.
The cost of war. I stole that last link off Rachel. How's that for full disclosure?
Can't leave y'all on such a low note...So Pac Manhattan!
Peace out.
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