My dream is to produce something called a Baedeker

Big props to Grant on his first book: Hatchet Jobs and Hardball, which contains "more than six hundred slang terms straight from the smoke-filled rooms of American political speech." I suppose this means he'll be getting too popular to sing karaoke anymore.

I promise not to come in your handbag

The NY Times was vascillating between the paternal and the prurient this weekend. What *is* it with their porn obsession? This week, it's all about what women want in their porn:

For the next round of films they produced, Mr. Graff and Ms. Holland passed over stylists who worked exclusively in adult films and instead hired an art director who also works in theater, a wardrobe person who also designs hats and handbags. "Women were telling us they were really into lingerie, and it has to be at least Victoria's Secret, but better you have Prada. And they complained a lot about over-the-top jewelry, so we paid attention to that," Ms. Holland says. The results are "closer to where we're going, if not there yet," she adds.

I Love Dick, or, Fashions of the Times: First Glance

OK, I just shat something that looked like a seahorse. Herewith, a few observations on the Fashion section of the Times.

Oh, yay! My creepers are *finally* back in style. (Kevin, you always said your day would come.)

Also, I like to imagine that the models in this spread are being chased by armed rebels. As a matter of fact, I like to pretend that I'm actually leading the insurgent army in their attack.

Man, Why Did I Ever Leave Greenpoint?

Max points out this great little flyer just steps away from the Greenpoint G:

Ibiza Party Foam

friday 8/27
10 pm
18 to party
21 to drink

dj shark * dj qta * dj gady

The hottest night of the summer.
Take a bath in the biggest bathtub full of foam.

Girls in top bikini free entry + drink
Guys in swimming cups free entry

Ride that sexy horse

Wow, there is something more disturbing than outright bestiality*: My Dark Horse Is Horny, an artmercial for Diesel. [Via Popbitch.]

*And that is a man wearing nothing but a handlebar moustache and nude manties.

Ain't No Time to Hate, Barely Time to Wait

Indulging in a bit of blogfucking (for he did, after all, link to me, but that's not why), go check out Jake's (of Glorious Noise) review of the Cure live.

That was a lousy summer. I had just graduated from high school and was working part-time in a frozen yogurt shop. Alone, surrounded by creamy scoops of happiness. My girlfriend dumped me for a community theatre actor, and my best friend was working third-shift in a factory, sleeping the hours I wasn't at work. Alone, lonely, alone. Reading a biography of Oscar Wilde, and listening to one album over and over.

So, I get on the train at Delancey yesterday...

He should've sent this to Metropolitan Diary:

the fucking guy who comes thru the front door of the car and is making his way towards the back hopping like a frog. yes, i said, hopping like a frog. he is acting like OZZY at a Black Sabbath concert via 1975, which is starting to make me wonder if i dropped acid before i got on this train. so, the frog guy and the disgruntled homeless guy meet in the aisle and are trying to get around each other. the frog guy jumps again, smashes into one of the metal poles in the middle and falls down. the other guy trips over him and they both start yelling.

Jeez, the least they could've done was sent a couple of those guys to the tanning salon

Well, whaddya know: The RNC bloggers are a buncha homely white guys with funny haircuts. [Via Romenesko]

[P-to-tha-mothafuckin'-S: Don't EVEN try and say that it's unfair to point out their physical attributes when every woman who works in politics is judged by those same absurd standards. This bitch sez: These dipshits are uglier than a lardbucket full of armpits.]

Protest Titties

Whoo-hoo!

[Thanks Reeves. And remember ladies, he's available! Though I can't be sure he wasn't the one who posted it.]

The Devil Made Me Do It the First Time

Last night I got damn near squeezed to death by two people I hadn't seen in a great while. Not at the same time, mind you: that's the type of thing that could be construed as premeditated.

What I'm listening to: Black Rose, by Waylon Jennings. It's a shoutout to one who knows, and who's coming up to visit soon enough.

History: I don't know when I first heard this song, but I know the most memorable time it was playing. I was 20, in the front seat of my boyfriend's suped-up BMW 3-series (oh, you know, the Haartge kit, the Schnitzer tires...think I fucking remember?), going to the Krispie Kreme after hitting some of Savannah's finer drinking establishments. There's this one sharp, almost 90-degree turn on Skidaway Drive (was that its name? seems fitting) that sent Caroline, who was sitting in the back seat, from one side of the car to the other, which required that my boyfriend do some overcorrecting on the road. (She had a lot of junk in the trunk, see.) We laughed at the time, as Waylon played, but later on in Krispie Kreme as we watched the sad old graveyard-shift donut-making ladies behind the plexiglas, my boyfriend leaned over and whispered to me, "We almost didn't make that last turn, you know."

Closer Still!

I've semi-successfully installed MT-Close2. Yay!

Only problem is I can only get it to work on the Great Leader's Blog, and not mine. Anyone know what I'm doing wrong?

[Edited to add: OK, I think it's working now.]

Improving Workplace Morale, Pt 1

It doesn't surprise me at all that dong would have discovered this, though why he knows they have them in red and white patent leather as well is a mystery.

I Believe the Stars Are the Headlights of Angels

Or, What I Did on my Summer Vacation.

Weaning yourself off of prescription drugs is always a challenge. As with quitting smoking, a number of daily obstacles and minor tragedies force you to question whether this was the right week, etc. etc. But, you know, there's never the right week. Until ibogaine gets legalized, I guess.

But wow, wow indeed. I don't like feeling unhappy, but I do like *feeling*. After the next few weeks of bursting into tears at my desk, I'm sure I'll end up doing better than I did before. Because the past year and a half, I've just been content doing nothing. I wasn't enjoying reading, or writing, or doing anything that was intellectually taxing. Plus, my memory was truly suffering. The past six months I've been having trouble remembering what I ate for lunch. I mean, I know that I did *eat* lunch, but it would take me a few minutes of retracing my steps, and sometimes looking in my garbage can, to remind myself of what it was I consumed. I've also, on many occasions, forgotten to return emails. It was too difficult to recapture what it was I meant to say, to remember what I'd already said, to recall what I'd done.

Well, fuck that with a brick.* In the past three days, I finished reading my best friend's excellent novel (After years of us joking around with the mutual greeting of "So, how's your novel?" one of us can actually put her money where her mouth is. Not that I expected to win that particular race.) and have started reading two other books--Cheever and Dubus III--with a great deal of happiness and enjoyment. Yay for words.

Also I am reading the Frommer's Guide to Costa Rica and planning a trip for November.

Finally, I am set to kick off my month-long birthday celebration starting this Saturday at meat heaven. I am planning on wearing a white dress. It should be a fun, intimate affair, as meals involving unlimited red meat served on flaming swords usually are, and this time I know not to get meat goggles and flirt with the waiters.

Those of you who'd like to be part of the 29th Birthday Sale-a-Bration can contact me directly. As the name suggests, I get cheaper as the weeks wear on.

* © Bad News Hughes, 2004

...

I haven't been able to post anything today because I'm being inundated with literally hundreds of spam comments per hour. Grrrr. Blacklist is only helpful to a certain point. I've got to do some template tweaking. First I must find out what a "template" is.

Common People

As usual, Maud is being a bit too hard on herself with regard to her apparent public drunkenness. I mean, she wasn't the only one pounding the bar while singing "15 Men on a Dead Man's Chest." She was the only one who brought a carved maple staff with which to do the pounding. Well, the bottom part was maple; the top was a small child's skull. But I digress.

So the bathroom on the right has a bidet! I'd never seen one up close and personal. Because I'd always thought in the back of my mind that using a bidet would be fun, I of course did a bit of experimentation. Thank god my pants were black and the bar was dark. N and I argued over whether its chief purpose was to clean your asshole or your chocha. I think it's good for both. But one thing it is most specifically NOT designed for is drinking from. And I learned that the hard way.

Through the transom

This is encouraging. It was just emailed to me:

You may be interested in knowing that at 12:30 p.m. today, as part of its 75th anniversary celebration and in coordination with Federal Aviation Administration air traffic controllers , Delta Airlines Flight 9995, a Boeing 767-200, will depart John F. Kennedy International Airport for a short flight over the New York-New Jersey metropolitan area. The aircraft will be at an altitude of 4,000 feet.

The aircraft, which will be painted gray over white (Delta‚s colors in the 1940s), will be allowed to fly over the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island after its departure from JFK. The aircraft will then fly over the Hudson River to the George Washington Bridge, where it will make a right turn toward LaGuardia Airport. The Boeing 767 will fly over LaGuardia Airport and return to Kennedy Airport.

Grand Theft America

OK, it's a little heavy-handed, but it's got a point: GRAND THEFT AMERICA [Thanks, Tizzie!]

Paris' boobies: OK. "Dong": not OK

Big ups to dong for getting a mention in both the Daily News and USA Today. Even if those are the two dumbest papers in the country.

I fucking love the newswires, part 67

Because otherwise how would I have found out about Declaration of Agreement to Resist the Enemy?

The signers of the ‘Declaration of Agreement to Resist the Enemy’ will publicly and openly pledge to fight and resist any attempt at taking control of our aircraft by any unauthorized persons. We pledge to resist and fight an attempted hijack with overwhelming unity. The members list page will contain the names of the signers and will send a clear message to any potential hijacker that we will not be passive.

BBBJ

Boldfaced Names:

"I thought she was the most pretty girl I had ever seen, and I really mean that. I really thought that that was the person that I'd hoped to see my whole life. And for some reason, because I hadn't made a film yet, I wasn't thinking of making a film, I thought we would look nice together in a movie.''

What's the big deal about this movie? It's only a Darien socialite blowing a Republican.

Baby Pigs

I went home this weekend to attend to my mother, the nine-and-a-half-fingered wonder. Really, it was nothing that a really expensive dinner couldn't fix. (Well, morale-wise; dinners don't make fingers regenerate, AFAIK.) I also got to pet some baby pigs, who squealed with delight as they forced themselves on me. Then I went and played with my best friend's baby, now 7 months old and very much a piglet herself with fat thrusting arms and legs and a vocabulary that consists of "EEEEEEEEEEEE!" and "PPPPBBBBBBTTTTHHHHT!" I realized that her pornstar name (first pet's name + childhood street name) was Salty Cummings, and I told her parents so.

NB: Don't tell parents these things.

Vomitorium 2004

This
looks interesting, but isn't the whole concept of the Roman Vomitorium a myth? I'm willing to ignore that just because I really like puking.

Fuck New York

Go watch this commercial. [9 MB]

Thank you.

Virtual Library of Eroticism

The Virtual Library of Eroticism: Exactly what it sounds like. You're welcome.

Oy vey

I accidentally deleted Gideon's comment from a post below due to overzealous despamming. Everyone go to her blog and make her feel loved, ok?

[Edited to add: D'OH!]

Bad Poon Risin'

OK, last song for the week. Wasn't that fun? Less actual writing + more bandwidth = breaking even. This one goes out to the Vidiot.

The Poontango, by Mojo Nixon.

How Poon is Now?

OK, the fourth song this week is by one of my favorite bands in the world.

Puddin' Tane, by Redneck Greece.

Caught between the poon and NYC

This third installment in our weeklong POON-A-RAMA is dedicated to Patrick, because he beats his meat a lot.

A Chitlin Circuit regular, Shirley Brown brings us the auditory delight of Poontang Man.

There's a Miss Crazy on Line Two for You

DT: You are lucky that Im a good person...:

You were the greatest connection I ever had believe it or not. I know it sounds absurb but it is.... The only and wisest solution I see is for us to make peace and be friends again....... I dont think you realize that could be a real bitch like your exes and hate you for everything....but no I always been sweet and tried to work things out with good intentions. Ok i admit I might have reacted 2-3 times in a bad way in the heat of the moment after being attacked, thats totally human and normal......so I think you are pretty lucky that Im a good decent person and that I want to make peace instead of war.

Beards

A sweet, sylvan wind is blowing thru the office as I type. Yes, Work Stud(y) Boy has returned. He looks all growed up, with his neatly trimmed beard and short hair. Like Ashton Kutcher, one of the office ladies remarked.

Also, my coworker O hasn't shaved in like 5 days. "You growin' a beard?" I asked.

"No, we moved a week ago and we still haven't unpacked the bathroom mirrors. I tried using the twins' Fisher Price Baby Toy Jingly Mirror with Honking Action* but it distorted my face and I cut myself.

*Not its real name.

Whitey On the Poon

OK, our second poontang selection is for Ufez, whom I've neglected mightily and who probably hates me now.

Wang Dang Sweet Poontang, by Ted Nugent.

Is it just me?

...or is that girl on the left a little hefty to be working for Vogue?

(And before you think I'm sitting here un-silently judging her, bear in mind that the other window open on my desktop is my FitDay calorie counter into which I'm entering my entire day's menu just to make sure I'm "allowed" to eat it.

Damn that was embarrassing to admit.)

The Week of the Poon

Wow. Is this fun? Was it ever? I'm tired.

But I'm very happy to note that pal and occasional-guest-host Tizzie is coming to town this week, and the anticipation is killing me. But rather than, say, tidy up the apartment in honor of her arrival, I will post a song a day in honor of our lady Tizzie. The overarching theme? Poontang! (It all started when I was listening to Ted Nugent this morning. Anyhow.)

OK. Starting off, we have Poontang, by the Treniers. [Edited to add: Yeah, having like 18 mp3s up at one time is killing my bandwidth. One at a time, gentlemen!]

No Unpleasant Bending

While I'm sitting here in front of the computer on this shite Saturday, I am listening to Mr. Apollo, by the Bonzo Dog Band. I'm enjoying it very much, and I hope you will too.

I'll Bang the Drum

Holy shit, I almost forgot to tell you: The Live Ones are playing at the Lakeside Lounge tonight. At a surprise birthday party. Around 9:30. (I hope I didn't ruin the surprise.)

What will they think of next?

What does Supreme have in store for Fall '04?

Then the other buzz is and it may just be a rumor...but hey you walk down the street and you can't help but here the constant whispers so maybe there is some truth to it? But anyway here it is.... What they're saying is that Supreme is gonna bust out a version of thejacket Michael J. Fox wore in Back to the Future 2!!! Yep the one that self drys (not sure if this one will or wont self dry, people on the street seem divided on this one)!!!

Ueber-mich

What is the German word for skinny little hairball in a fuschia marblebag? [Danke, Charles.]

Bad Idea Jeans Expands its Clothing Line

Um, I'm going to pass on the "I Had An Abortion" T-shirt for now. Or as N put it: "Why not just make a T-shirt that says Nutjobs: Please Shoot Me in the Head?"

On the other hand, I *would* wear a shirt that said "I Wish I Had An Abortion." Or maybe, "Can't Talk Now--I'm On My Way to Have An Abortion!" Or maybe "Ask Me About My Abortion."

(Via Brittney.)

March on to Esperantopia!

Apparently the 89th Universal Congress of Esperanto was held last week. I guess my invite got lost in the mail.

Altaf Gohar, the president of Pakistan Esperanto Association, said in interview, "To tell you the truth, our delegates seatedat the committee meeting can't understand what people are saying. I am really feel ashamed."

Infrequently, these things write themselves

Walk softly and carry a big Gun?

Have you ever considered what you would do if you were traveling in a remote, unpopulated area and your vehicle broke down or your tire went flat? And for some reason that expensive cellular phone plan has a dead zone exactly where you are now stranded? What if the wrong person stopped to help you?

What if it's the Gabor sisters?

Art School Sluts

I ::heart:: Eon McKai. And not just because I was once an art school slut myself.

What else are you supposed to do in a town full of bars and devoid of bookstores?

"Hey, mind if I stop by after class and pick up that Spray Fix?" Wink.

Admittedly some of this was born from necessity: I lived in a house that had no heat, and it was cold, so cold during wintertime. The problem is that art school boys are so sensiteeev. I'd find myself running into them another time at the bar, and they'd take me aside and tell me, plaintively, "I thought we had something special."

It was like This Is Your Life. Sans golden curtains.