Archive for November, 2005

I’m going to poop my Worldwide Pants

Due to a freak accident, fate, a well-placed birthday and some “connections” I get to go to a taping of David Letterman tomorrow. Which is cool.

Hey friends from high school, remember how one summer we saw a full gallon of milk lying on the ground in a parking lot and ran it over with Becky’s car and it exploded in a lactic tidal wave because Dave did it on that Primetime Special that Becky used to make us watch over and over? Ok, so that probably was one of the funniest things we ever did ever. BUT listen! Tomorrow. Letterman. That’s cool and all but do you all know who the guest on Letterman is tomorrow?
Oh right, IT’S OPRAH.
She of the Angel Network, the Book Club, the Favorite Things! I feel a little like the Amy Poehler character in the Oprah SNL sketch whose head exploded:
Head Explosion

GothaMystical Frisco Burritos

Today’s show listings

Dysfunctional Gothamist

Family Style

I will return after these messages.

A good blog requires time, love and tenderness. Bear with me while I do some remodeling. Addendum: I have no idea what I’m doing!!

Just to clarify (and to avoid a new entry devoted to this boring subject) here’s what happened with the old blog…I tried to get an RSS feed, which is apparently really complicated on my old server Geeklog, and I think maybe my feeble blogtarded hands hit a wrong button and I messed things up a wee bit. In making the fed-up switch over to WordPress, I have temporarily lost (until we figure out how to recover/cut/paste/retype) my old entries. Except for this one below which Luke somehow recovered. I don’t know. So enjoy a really old attempt at puns and in the meantime, here are some new names I came up with this weekend, on the off chance I decide to open a store devoted to custard.

Brulee Vous Couche Avec Moi Ce Soir?
Custard’s Last Stand
Pudding on the Ritz
If You’ve Got It, Flan It

Miscellaneous Gothamist


This just in: Giant Flesh Eating Velociraptor Reincarnated into Vaseline

My eyelids have been so dry lately I have been doing anything and everything to make them return to their pre-26 year old form. I don’t know the cause for the dryness, all I know is I am aging fast because Heckle and Jekyll are opening a shoe store on my face. (Crows Feet, guys. Crows Feet.)

So I took some drastic measures this weekend and I’m slapping on any kind of emollient with moisturizing, soothing abilities that did not warn me of avoidance with the eye area, including that old anti-baby-butt-chapper, Vaseline. I worried that maybe Vaseline wouldn’y do the trick since it’s not known for its Pro-Retinol, Q10, firming, fountain of youthifying properties, so I did what anyone who is worried about unintentionally blinding themselves would do. Ye Olde Google Search.

I found a website that was right up my alley called The Frugal Face, with tips about cheap ways to care for yourself without spending a Frugal Arm or a Frugal Leg. It started with the Frugal Author touting things like hydrogen peroxide as toner and diluted baby shampoo as a cleanser. Interesting. She then shuns all department store brands of makeup calling them more harmful than drug store brands. Hm. Harmful to the wallet perhaps, but I don’t think La Mer Eye Balm is $300 an ounce for NO reason. I doubt Vaseline is JUST as good, like she says, but at least my worries are quelled because I haven’t gone blind yet and she seems to think it’s ok to apply the petrolatum liberally. But this Frugal Frida here was starting to sound a little too Frugal, to the point where I was wondering what else she might be scrimping on. Higher education? Common sense? I just don’t know at this point if we, me and Frugal Fannie, can go on together, me with my suspicious mind and all. My fears were realized though when I read “Some women have an aversion to using petroleum products because they don’t consider them “natural”…Petroleum comes out of the ground from dead dinosaurs. What could be more natural and organic than that?”

All of a sudden I felt like I was taking advice from the lovechild of Miss DiPesto and the lady who plays stupid people all the time but was most recently on Everybody Loves Raymond playing someone stupid’s stupid mom. So, I decided a run to Kiehl’s to shell out for some Abyssine Serum was in order. Small price to pay for a temporary cure to the old Pterodactyl Eye, you know, when you psychosomatically think your corneas are burning and falling off.

My Wish List is Slightly Less Amazonian

To all of you who are keeping track of my wishlist, I’ll have you know that one item has been purchased!! So come all ye gift givers, get on the bandwagon like that first person did and buy me stuff. (In the spirit of full disclosure, um, I am the first purchaser of said present because I’ve been really well behaved this week, HOWEVER, the fact is I still got the ball rolling and it just might behoove our friendship if you joined in the spirit of giving.)

I would really like to thank myself for buying myself Nada Surf’s Let Go and I think myself really knows myself well to know that I wanted this. Do not judge me, I have told you all a million times I am 3 years behind the cool kid times, so this is right on schedule.

Also, I don’t mean to harp on the wishlist, it’s just that its been a good week and I have little to complain about so greed is my default setting when “complaint” mode is shut off. You might want to print this page out, those of you who would someday like to reference the time I said “I have nothing to complain about” and use that as proof that I was once happy. For if there is one certain thing in this world it is that I will surely complain again. And if there are two things, there’s that and also, Oprah should be like, president.

Fifty Cent, Peace

In America. You know it, the movie where the Irish family moves to America to escape a tragic life and then meet a tragic guy in their tragic building and then The Corrs play a tragic song. When that movie came out and was subsequently nominated for an Oscar for best original screenplay, it was a known fact that director Jim Sheridan wrote the screenplay with his two daughters and it was loosely based on their own lives. The line between fact and fiction was blurred though for some people because dear friend, we will call him Clef Killer, couldn’t wrap his Lipnicki-like 8 pound head around the fact that the two little girls from the film actually WROTE what they were starring in. And at such tender young ages!

After discussing the fact that they were actors, not actually related to Jim Sheridan, and probably would have been about 4 and 6 when the screenplay was written, it made a little more sense. The movie was written my Jim Sheridan’s real daughters, not the girls who were loosely based on his daughters, who, again, would have been 4 and 6 and probably would not even know how to use papa Jim’s copy of Final Draft Pro in order to contribute. You know…Had they been his real daughters. Who wrote a screenplay. At the ages of 4 and 6.

(I love you Clef Killer – don’t be mad. I have a point. No I dont.)

So Jim Sheridan is also responsible for another semi autobiographical film that’s being released today, Fiddy Cent’s Get Rich or Die Tryin’ which, aside from Sheridan’s involvement, has little to do with In America. But I present some hilarioso comments from the thoughtful, engaging reviewers of IMDB. (I love IMDB commenters so so much):

I think 50 should stay with his singing career and stop waisting me and other peoples time.

some of you guys don’t know what real street is, you can better watch movies like shriek, harry potter, finding memo and sh*t like that.

It is 100% pile of steamy crap with corn and flies. The script was if it was written by someone in the third grade.

By the way: I haven’t liked 50 cent since “In Da Club”, but this movie has changed that somewhat. I respect where he came from, and his new tracks are hot.

watched my own private screening this evening (i work at a movie theater as a projectionist, so i just canceled dreamer lol)

do not listen to the critics on this movie unless its ebert

Not making this next one up:
Get Reich or Die Trying
I have seen several black films and I must say that I think this one is the best I have seen in a long time. The movie sucks you in and takes your breath until it lives you in tears.

Funny, that’s exactly how I feel too right now.

Chengwin Gothamist


A Girl’s Best Friend

A girls best friend I took a sick day yesterday and caught up on the real loves of my life – TV and magazines. I was reading Vanity Fair and found an ad that I am in love with. Luxury jeweler and diamanoid cutter Michael Beaudry creates art beautiful enough to wear with pieces like these:
Maybe classy. I don't know. If Talbots knocks them off then you know it's classy I guess. When I worked at Talbots (did you all know that I worked at Talbots? yes, even after I got my college degree, I worked at Talbots) we had a bin of jewelry called “David Yurman knockoffs” because Talbots is only for the most refined women whose husbands finance their wardrobe but only to a certain degree. The David Yurman knockoff bin was like the Canal Street of the Burlington Mall. ANYway. Michael the Diamonique-Cutter Beaudry has an ad in Vanity Fair which I am certain is geared toward every mom who has ever been featured (and tried to steal focus from her daugher) on MTV’s “My Sweet Sixteen” or any woman from Staten Island whose home was purchased in cash with funds from her husband’s sanitation company. Ahem:

A note to all my Potential Suitors make sure when you buy me jewels, the Four C’s of diamonds (Color, Clarity, Cut, and Carat, of course) accentuate the Four C’s of Me: Cleavage, ‘Crylics, Camel Lights and Coke, Diet.