Other stupid shit I did this weekend

Got sick (see previous);
Slept through a movie I'd already paid for (@#%@ Fandango!);
Tripped and fell so hard into my bed that I got huge bruises and damaged a couple of blood vessels in my leg;
Closed two of my fingers into my front door;
Ate too much food.



Some things don't change. Some do.

I did this little quizlet almost nearly a year ago. So? I don't know, I can't sleep. Deal with it, campers.

Updates in bold.

1. Spell your first name backwards: ellehciM

2. Story behind your journal name: It's a variant of a phrase that my friend Janet and I developed to describe something quite different. In other words, a long complicated private joke that means nothing to you.

3. How old are you: 39

4. Where do you live: NY, NY


5. Wallet: Black Fossil leather checkbook wallet, stuffed with business cards, receipts, courtesy cards but rarely money which usually goes in my pockets. I'm getting better about keeping cash and cards and change in the wallet, but now the checkbook is getting shredded.

7. Toothbrush: Gray and black Crest bendy ergonomic one. I should get a new one
Cheap green 'crest' toothbrush, from the dollar store (Hence the quotes), not intentionally bendy. I shold get a new one.
8. Jewelry worn daily: Platinum diamond engagement ring on the wrong hand. Weird stone and silver ring I bought at the Clearwater festival. Diamond is in storage.

13. Sunglasses: If I wear contacts, I wear cheap off the street plastic ones. I just busted my $5 oversized '60s ones that I loved. I've worn glasses nearly exclusively this year, so no shades, unless I'm in 'character'

14. Favorite shirt: Either my black vneck sweater or my LL bean grey and green mens flannel.

16. CD in stereo right now: Booty Olympics "Boystyle" Beethoven something, I'm too wrecked to get up and check.

17. Piercings: Two in each ear.

18. What you are wearing now: Above-mentioned LL Bean grey and green mens flannel shirt. Striped high cut briefs. Grey JHU tshirt and Pfizer sweats.

19. Wishing: I could get off my ass and my projects and problems would magically disappear. The same, and sleep.

20. Wanting: Elves. Lots and lots of elves. Smaller tonsils.

21. After this: getting off my ass. taking meds. maybe cereal. Sleep?

22. If you could get away with it and murder anyone who would it be? Can't abide murder, unless someone hurt a friend or family member I would kill to defend them.

23. Persons you wish you could see right now: Hmm, there's a few.

25. Something you're looking forward to in the coming week: My friend Mike is coming to town. Everyone's coming to town. And I have some big shows.

26. The last thing you ate: Last night i had hot and sour soup. Besides Claritin and Klonopin I had a tangerine.

27. Something you are moderately afraid of: Moderately? Uncertainty.

31. Do you believe in love? Yes, much to my detriment.

32. Do you believe in soul mates? Goddamn, I hate that word. No.

33. Do you believe in love at first sight? I'm not sure that's love, but it's something.

35. Do you believe in God? I don't know, really.

38. What is the longest you've ever watched TV? Oh, dear, mindless marathons have trapped me...

44. Who is someone that you really wish was still around? My great-aunt.


45. Who are your best friends? I have a few. Not all of them are geographically close. Some are moving farther away, and that's bumming me out.

46. How many people have you kissed? There's kissing and then there's kissing.

47. Would you be in a long distance relationship? Oy vey. Perhaps. I like space. Not unless I'd fallen madly in love.

48. Still have feelings for anyone you've been in a past relationship with? Oh of course, who doesn't? Although at least one ex says I don't have nearly enough; he tends to hang on to nearly everyone in some form or another, I really don't. Yes.

49. Do you know what it feels like to be in love? I'm pretty sure I do, but recent life events have caused me to wonder. Shit happens. But yes, I think I do. I don't know.

50. Would you sacrifice your favorite possession for your best friends? Of course.


51. Where is your favorite place to shop? J. Jill catalog. Bloomingdales on sale if I have the right salesperson; otherwise Filenes Basement.

52. Have any tattoos? No.

61. Do you do drugs? Rarely do I do illegal drugs.

64. What are you listening to right now? Oddly nothing, although Foreigner's "I want to know what love is" is going through my head right now. Nothing.

65. Who was the last person that called you? My friend Mike about his travel plans for this week. Frank.

66. Where do you want to get married? Vegas, drunk. Ha! Of course I am still technically married right now. Alas.

68. What would you change about yourself? Be less angry at myself and more focused on positive changes in my life.

69. What are essentials in your life? Cash, family, friends, Internet, carbonated water. No carbonated water, and not in that order.


71. Hair: longish, curlyish, dark brown, messy

72. make-up: None. I haven't showered yet. Worn off by now.

73. music: Maudlin shit. Just put on Steve Earle. Musicals. Les Mis, South Park, Moulin Rouge.

74. mood: tense cranky

75. State of Being: uncertain fluish


in other news

I'm sick. I went from 0 to fucking sick in an hour. My throat is swelling up, my eyes are burning. And I'm starving, which happens when I start running a fever. Goddamnit. This officially sucks camel balls.

Camel balls?

I gotta get some rest.

TV Women who May be Retarded (with all due respect to the retarded)

1. Kina from "Real World Road Rules: The Duel" and such. "I'd have won that challenge...if it wasn't for my body." Clearly, all her cranial blood supply is cut off at her gums.

2. Rachael Ray. "Yum-O!" And why are her breasts so forlorn?

3. Kendra from "Girls Next Door." Go Kendra, before it gets away!


Another ESPN gem

Lest you think that chick sportswriters can only write about chick stuff, here's another gem from Jemele Hill.



Why me? Why does weird shit happen to me?

I'm nursing what I believe is a dislocated jaw. Either that, or a recently relocated jaw that hurts like a bastard. What was I doing to earn this? Street fight? Stage combat gone wrong?

Nope. Chewing.

In my heavily scarred life, I have, among other things -
- run a screen door into the back of my foot
- gotten a shard of cadaver in my eye (while wearing glasses)
- burned my stomach on a cookie sheet
- slipped and fell INSIDE A HOSPITAL dislocating my knee
- fallen down subway steps (6 train)
- gotten a concussion from an improv show
- face-planted while leaving the stage at the Parkside

Now, I've dislocated and relocated my jaw (I think. It's starting to swell, now that I've removed the icepack). I didn't know whether to call the doctor or dentist, so I called the dentist.

I feel like a moron. A moron in huge amounts of pain.


Clam up, noseface!

I really enjoy the Comic's Curmudgeon; so much, that I am considering buying an 'air quotes' tshirt.

It's selective in its likes (Curtis) and dislikes (scathing serial commentary on For Better or For Worse). It's got neat archives that are fun to browse, especially if you are a recovering strip junkie like me.


Sense memory

I never considered myself a touchy person, in terms of touchy-feely-ness. But there are some touches that I remember, years later, so vividly that it makes me shudder a bit from how real and beautiful it was.

The feel of someone's hands on your shoulders as they gaze intensely into your eyes, deeply, perhaps for the first time, as you look up at them. The caress of someone stroking your skin, remembering how soft and pretty it's always been, as trees rustle on the breeze blowing in. The wonderfully uncomfortable sensation of resting your head on someone's shoulder and having a hand play in your hair, absently, while focusing on something else. Having your hand, squeezed, in a gesture of "I'm here and I like this." A leg tangled up with yours as you drift off to sleep.

Quality, not quantity.

arrrrggghhh (a fair amount of time in the making)

I just want someone to fall madly and truly in love with me, and be able to follow through in a way that doesn't make me insane, annoyed or heartbroken.

To quote the legendary Harvey Fierstein, "Is that so wrawng?"




I started to post about my lovely weekend, and somehow don't remember what happened to the post.

Anyway, it was lots of fun.

But I'm so behind on THINGS.

I also notice that there's a certain lack of personality, or at least consistency, in this bloggero.

Does anyone care? Nah!

Bahahahahah. I'm working too late and have miles to go before I sleep.


Icky in Pink

ESPN, and especially Page 2, are my frequent workday companions. I'm a great fan of Mary Buckheit and Jemele Hill, two fine chicks whose sportswriting I admire.

Today's Page 2 featured them both:

Lighter Reading (Mary Buckheit on sports-'fashion')
Heavy Reading (Jemele Hill on Katie Hnida's rough times in NCAA football)

Great stuff.


Yeah, I'm hot. Or at least toothy!

See previous, or Beauty Products Revisited

Yesterday, I bought Aveeno Exfoliating Body Scrub and Vaseline Intensive Care Firming Lotion.

I have no idea if this stuff works. Yet I felt a profound need for it.

I will keep the public informed as to my smoothness and firmness.


This was the week that was

Let's take advantage of how scatterbrained I am. I kept meaning to post, but it's hard to type unobstrusively here at work (yes, I'm working today) and it's the last thing I want to do when I go home.
Some highlights:
  • The world's worst comb-over.

  • Don't drink and...drink.

  • I am a GrownUp - Shopping at Duane Reade for products by Brand, that May not Be on Sale, and May be for Women over 30.

  • Comedy - Oy Vey!

  • Obsession: or, why must all my list contain an Odd Number of items?

Enjoy your day! Here's a couple of tapirs for you:


More random uselessness, or useless randomness

I tried to sign on for 10 minutes to let people know that I am wearing an exceedingly ugly shirt today.

It's blue, green, pinkish-tan and white paisely. Under the button placket and cuffs (that are permanently rolled up, a great look if you have long arms), there's a pale blue stripe. The buttons stop short of the top, which means you have to look at the black lace camisole that I incongruously put on this morning.

Not a pretty sight. Trust me.



My cat just slid off my file cabinet, taking all the papers and clothes with her.
I've been on the phone for 2 hours.
I've been drinking Irish whiskey, which is very very tasty.
Dr. 90210 is on.
I thought I was going to go out, but I didn't.
I need to bake a pie.

Tenacious D - so cool!

I love funny/funnylooking/musical guys. Don't you? If you do, go see the new Tenacious D picture. Then download the soundtrack. Then continue to be amused and amazed.

"Dude (I Totally Miss You)" is my new favorite love song.

Totally predictable but so fucking hilarious. Nice bits by Paul Tompkins and Amy Poehler.

I don't go to the movies enough, and am ridiculously disappointed when the movie sucks, and ridiculously giddy when it's fantastic.

I can do without the ten previews of shitty movies. Please. Especially when I'm popcorn-and-soda free.


Man am I good!

Here's the menu. Remains up for grabs!

Toasted Rosemary Walnuts (from Laurie Colwin, "More Home Cooking")
Wild Turkey (from Quattro's Game Farms, Union Square) with Herb Butter
Turkey Gravy (fresh)
Baked Sweet Potatoes
Green Beans with Orange and Toasted Maple Pecans (from Cook's Illustrated)
Buttermilk Mashed Potatoes
Dressing with Pine nuts and Dried Cranberries
Butternut Squash Lasagne (from Giada DeLaurentiis Everyday Italian)
Cranberry Sauce (berry and the sliced kind)
Pear Chutney (homemade, also from Laurie Colwin, "More Home Cooking")
Pumpkin Pie (homemade)
Pecan Pie (homemade)
Apple Pie (from Black Forest in Lindenhurst)
Butter cookies with frosting turkeys on them.

OK. I'm not perfect. I didn't make the pie crusts. But I did make fresh maple-flavored whipped cream.


Haps all.
Thanks for my lovely family for making it all worth it and fun.
Photos to follow!


Obsessive? p'raps.

It bugs me that now that I've switched my Blogger account, my old posts are Not Labeled.

This will take time, that I don't have, to fix. Think I'll attempt it? Bet on it.

Did I just correct the commas in that sentence above? You betcha.

Random walks, continued

Yesterday I walked around my neighborhood. Slightly too chilly for my thermal shirt, denim jacket and corduroys...in other words, perfect. Bright and early in the East Village means a certain level of calm and quiet, with oldsters out buying the Saturday paper a day early, some hungover dog-walkers, store owners sweeping their sidewalk narrowly within the borders of their stores projected on an invisible line to the sidewalk, a few dedicated scribes in coffee shops with laptops, toast and black coffee. Stopped into Odessa to get a light-no-sugar and tasted the sweetness from where the pre-loaded cup had been emptied. Adjusted the brown bandanna (a remnant of a past relationship, if not a remnant then a reminder) that was sliding down over my eyes and hardly sheltering my shower-wet hair. I walked to Tompkins Square, past the homeless group milling about, awaiting the Christian meal truck, past the empty chessboard tables in the area where Tent City used to be. I sipped my coffee and strolled in lazy loops, pausing on a bench, balancing my phone between neck and ear as I wiped the stray coffee from my pants leg. I rounded the large paved expanse in the middle where small film crews and photogs often pause. I passed the playground, the dog run, and found a happy spot in the middle of the park. When the leaves are all on the trees, you feel sheltered, and it's as if there are no buildings surrounding you. Peering through the trees in November, you can see the tenements and occasional high-rise cross-hatched by the bare branches. I happily kicked some leaves, as no pile of leaves should be left unkicked. I passed the Parks Department man who was leaf-blowing and smiled, perhaps too late. At the east end of the park I saw a gathering outside the old church. Was it a wedding? Funeral? Just a Saturday mass? I walked along the eastern edge of the park, passing my family's ancestral home on 7th Street.

It was nice to have company on my solitary walk, even by way of cell phone. I'd have enjoyed it either way, but it was quite pleasant.

Autumn. New York. Cliche? Perhaps. Wonderful.


A huuuuge blow to my self esteem

Not really. According to current standards of bloglebrity, I'm not up to blogging snuff.

So everyone who sees this...love me! At least electronically.

Thanks to Will Hines, everyone's favorite C-list blogger. Of course this will only shoot him straight into the B-list-osphere.

D-List Blogger


Reproduced without permission...the most brilliant intercontinental conversation EVER.

Originally titled "Cunts x 10."* See if you can figure out why?

read them, count them, and count them again, you cunts:

Scarpe708: This is fun, I like improv with you, you cunt
mir777: You are a good scene partner, for a silly cunt
Scarpe708: The English can be quite fuuny, as we are cunts...
mir777: So can New Yorkers, because we are witty Jewish cunts
Scarpe708: I will ALWAYS love you New York, you're still cunts
mir777: I love England, even though it is full of Cunts
Scarpe708: You are still counting to ten, you clever bitch cunt
mir777: Yes, I am brilliant even when I am a cunt
Scarpe708: I can't keep up now, can I? you funny cunt
Scarpe708: I will blog this, you know that, don't ypu? cunt
mir777: It's getting harder and I'm starving, you distracting sleepless cunt
mir777: Yes yes yes yes yes blog cunt cunt cunt cunt
Scarpe708: And scene, cos we can still end up saying cunt

9 words plus cunt to a sentence. get it? cunts?

*non-Anglophiles should know that the old c-word isn't nearly as BAD in the UK, home of 'scarpe708,' as it is here in Noo Yawk City.

ps - Cunt!


And what's with that hair?

The young....(circa 1985)

The terrifying...(circa 2001)

The not too shabby...(circa 2005)

A controversial rejoinder.

Plaid boxers. No doubt.


A controversial opinion.

Republicans. Why are they so darn sexy?


Nyet, nyet, nyet.

Sorry, Billy.

I rented "Gorky Park" because (a) I loves me a good Cold War intrigue novel and this was a fine one, and (b) I loves me some William Hurt.

Wrong, wrong.
What LANGUAGE are you speaking? All the Russians are essentially voiced as working-class Brits, but Mr. Hurt, your accent of faux-Soviet-stilt combined with dialect-tape upper class English, slipping back into American WASP every ten words or so.
Distracting! Arrgh! Arrgh!

I'm waiting for Lee Marvin to appear. Then, back in the red envelope you go!


Who's your fave Girl next Door?

Holly's the main one. Bridget's the smart one. Kendra's....the blonde one.


Vote for Mark & Ari!

They're good people. Funny people. And the film is friggin' hilarious!


Soundtrack of your life if your life were guided by iTunes "Shuffle"

Blog meme! Stolen from Dunford.

Opening Credits: "Distant Fingers," Patti Smith
Waking Up: "Why you Wanna Treat me So Bad," Prince
An Ordinary Day: "We're Not Gonna Take It," Twisted Sister
The First Date: "What can I Do?," Antony and the Johnsons
Falling in Love: "Javert at the Barricade," Les Miserables Soundtrack
The Rumble: "Already Said Goodbye," Booty Olympics
The Break-up: "La La Love You," Pixies
Getting Back Together: "Maybe This Time," Liza Minnelli
Life's Okay: "Decomposing Composers, Monty Python
The Mental Breakdown: "Love Me till the Sun Shines," The Kinks
Cruising: "Sister Christian," Night Ranger
The Flashback: "Solitary Man," Johnny Cash and Tom Petty
The (Frat) Party: "I Can't Make you Love Me," Bonnie Raitt
Everybody Dance Now: "I Never Had a Chance," Mendoza Line
Regretting: "Tomorrow is Today," Billy Joel
The Long Night Alone: "Uptown," Prince
A Death: "Prelude Act III, Tristan un Isolde," Wagner

My iTunes is a tad hostile this morning, what can I say? (Due to an input error, this is the corrected version and, if possible, even weirder than the first)


What to do, what to do....

I'm fucking hungry.

Breakfast Club is on the TV.

It's not clear whether it's going to rain or not.

I feel somewhat isolated from a community I sort of used to be a part of.

I need to write jokes but my heart isn't in it.

Things are changing. Things need to change more.


Superheroine's Demise, Google and the reluctant feminist.

When CBN's turn misogynistic: a commentary.

From shrub.com, a pretty interesting blog on stuff that I'm only kind of interested in. I generally loathe -ists of any sort, but there's some good, smart and honest writing here. Here too, which appears to be pro-feminist stuff written by a dude.

The world of gender politics and politics in general has always made me itch, but perhaps some stuff is worth looking at.

I don't know exactly what the point of all this is. It's miles away from my original posting idea, which is probably a good thing. Because I believe my original idea was something along the lines of sexuality and difficult relationships. I could be less vague, if I wanted to be. But that's neither here nor there.

One Google leads to another, as you know and I ended up informed, and in a slightly smarter place.


bits of food news

1. Lemon Propel Water is strangely delicious. Usually lemon 'flavored' things taste like cleansers of some sort, but Lemon Propel is ridiculously tasty!

2. BirdsEye makes chopped spinach you can steam in the package for the ridiculously lazy who can't Find a Bowl or a Knife to Chop With. I made a vaguely sushi-restaurant-appetizer, delicious (not for everyone, granted) salad for lunch with some leftovers:

Chilled frozen cooked spinach
1/2 package silken tofu (firm)
1-2 tsp sesame oil
1-2 tb soy sauce
Sesame seeds or gomasio (seaweed/sesame seed/salt combo - reduce the soy sauce a bit)

Mash up the tofu a bit with the back of a fork. Stir in the spinach and drizzle over remaining ingredients. Toss and enjoy!

3. I have a slight crush on the perky outdoorsy Kashi commercial lady. I love her sporty outfits and attitude! But she's not on the website although you can get free Kashi bars and stuff. Darn it!

I'd have posted more pictures and links, but I refuse to go down the product placement road any more than I already have. But if I'd found the Kashi chick, things may have been different!


Meh. Meh. Meh.

I really don't like the word 'meh.' But I'm somewhere between bone-weary and viciously anxious, so I guess it averages out to 'meh.'

Every time I try to type 'meh' I end up with 'men.' Hmmm indeed.

Oddly, I feel fairly well, which I attribute to my new fitness regimen of no crappy food. Fun!

I am so (see above) that the merest idea, whiff of human contact makes me pull the metaphorical pillow over my head.

Although, I have to say that I wouldn't mind some. Pillows. Human contact. Whatever. Meh.

You meh are all alike.

"You don't know how much you're going to miss me."
- Aurora (Shirley MacLaine), "Terms of Endearment"


My oh my, mate

I seem to be flirting, again.

I've filed off a few rough edges, I hope.

Perhaps the sweatpants will be swapped out for a good eyebrow-and-leg waxing.



Simple, really.

Maybe a hug.
New sweatpants.

Fuck it all.

a cliche? Perhaps. But a fucking classic.

Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You've gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street
And now you find out you're gonna have to get used to it
You said you'd never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And ask him do you want to make a deal?

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people
They're drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things
But you'd better lift your diamond ring, you'd better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse
When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose
You're invisible now, you got no secrets to conceal.

How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?


Herbal Tea: A Rant

As I sit here with great hope and a fragrant cup of Celestial Seasonings "Honey Vanilla Chamomile," plucked from a pretty yellow box with charming bears and sweet quotes abound, I take my first warming sip and feel compelled to pen the following words:


Yep. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Herbal tea fucking blows. Here's a list. A fucking hateful list, broken down at times by flavor.

I'm not much of a tea-drinker to begin with (excepting in certain restaurants when culturally appropriate/interesting, or when ill). And when I try, to foray into the world of the fruity and herby and spicy and smelly and soothy and foul leafy crap-water-tinting foul (did I say that?) excuse for beverages...Ok, deep breath. I will explain, neatly below.

There are limited exceptions, and I will grudgingly admit them at the end. Not even grudgingly, because I can make a case that they're not smug smelly wet-dog chewed-gum herbal....Ok, let's get organized, here.

1. Herbal Tea Often Smells Better than it Tastes (The above-mentioned blend, Harvest Spice, and many promising sounding treats.)

Celestial Seasonings (hereinafter "CS") is the prime culprit here. You want to love these. They promise a wealth of warm, tasty flavors. You read the charmingly wordy box while waiting for the water to boil, dip the super-organic string-free bag (slightly irritating to the burned fingers and a little annoying to retrieve without dripping tea), retrieve (see above) and breathe in the herbs, sweet and reminiscent of Something Else. Generally, you are on a diet and would rather eat Something Else.

Go and eat Something Else. Even if it's a goddamn cranberry muffin.

Because the smell gets progressively more noxious and the taste is of hot water with a cranberry-muffin wrapper wadded up in the bottom.

2. Weird Fruit Flavors. Why?

I once bought some Apple Spice tea. I like Apples. I like Spice.

I do not like them dipped in water. Not even the smell was remotely pleasant.

The box stunk up my cabinet to the point where I had to roach-scrub it (if you've never experienced this, bug-bomb your apartment in the winter and watch the fallout) to remove the sickly fruity odor of Glade Air Freshener lit on fire.

Similarly, any citrus-type tea that I've experienced makes me want to wipe down wood furniture.

3. Mint Tea. Fuck you.

Perhaps if I travel to Morocco, I'll have a proper cup. Maybe it's better there, the way you eat improbable foods while traveling or drunk.

Every time I've had mint tea, it's tasted like diluted chewing gum. And I don't even like chewing gum.

4. By the way, Green Tea is not Herbal Tea.

I love how people are smug about ordering Herbal Tea because it's not coffee. "I'm healthy, I'm pure, I don't do caffeine, I'm a damn hippie." Well, screw you for going to Starbucks and paying $2.00 for a cup of hot water with a sock full of dead leaves in it. (Yeah, I know, I'm a hypocrite because coffee is a bunch of ground beans filtered through a sock. Whatever, I'm on a roll.)

You can, however be smug about green tea. It's good for you. It does, however, have caffeine, and it is NOT herbal tea.

5. "Medicinal" teas.

Often found at health food stores. They are expensive, nasty tasting, and often make you crap. 'Nuff said.


There are a couple of "herbal teas" that I will grudgingly admit to enjoying, from time to time.

When I worked up in the Bronx, I was given a blend (1 bag each in a single cup) of chamomile and something called 'tilo' in Spanish after a terribly stressful day. (Badia brand, found in the Key Food). It was astoundingly calming, and ridiculously inexpensive to boot.

I also enjoy ginger tea, but I maintain this isn't truly herb tea. Ginger is fucking magical. It soothes your stomach, gives you a healthy glow, clears your system, and helped me quit smoking.

I promise that I will be eternally smug and superstitious about ginger, just like you damn hippies and your herbal teas.

Obsession with dead TV shows...Is there any money in this?*

I just flipped to "NYPD Blue."

Boy, does it make me appreciate "Homicide" more. Because "Blue" seems hackneyed and trite by comparison. Seriously. And I used to really like that show, up through the Zach from Saved by the Bell years. I had caught re-runs from the David Caruso years, and those may have actually been a bit better, when it wasn't the Show how Intensely Crappy Sipowicz's Life Is Show.

Forgive my poor construction there. But, damn. Even Season 7 (the ostensibly 'shitty season') of Homicide is overall better then the ten minutes of the Jimmy Smits era NYPD Blue episode I just caught. I was quite surprised.

*If anyone out there can answer this question, I'll toss you a percentage of same. But I will not give you the pseudonym "Bayliss" in this journal. For the four or five of you who read this journal, you'll be happy to know that "McNulty" and "Munch" are now, under slight protest, taken.


Details, details

You know what the neatest thing about "The Outsiders" (the movie) is?

The teeth. Yeah. Coppola, that genius, doesn't miss a trick. I mean, what if the greasers had the shiny-white teeth that teen pre-Brat Packers Dillon, Swayze, Cruise, Estevez and the like actually had? No, they're definitely grubby, neglected, too much Soda, soda.

Check out the teeth. And stay gold.


Kinda sets a mood, doesn't it?

The first rule of Fight Club is - you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is - you DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Third rule of Fight Club, someone yells Stop!, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule, no shirt, no shoes. Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule, if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.

- Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), "Fight Club"


the good, the bad, and the ill-fitting....

I fucking hate women's clothes sometimes.

I got this smart skirt at a fairly reduced price on ebay:

Given clothes I've purchased from this company before (Torrid), and being in possession of a couple of 'kind of fits not really' dresses, I figured sizing up was appropriate. And body image being what it is, I didn't feel so off the mark in ordering the particular size that I did.

Turns out...not so much. At least with a skirt. Low/mid-market fattie clothes, and even some of the pricier stuff tends to be cut flatter on top and bigger in the arse and hips, shortish in the legs (depending on manufacture; I have much better luck with certain vendors, but even my buddy Ralph "Lauren" Lifschitz has been known to let me down, as I am now the proud owner of a polo-shirt/belly-shirt). Even with the neat corsety ribbons in the back, I'm swimming in the waist. And at this juncture, and hopefully far into the future, this is not good. And it comes a time where you have to wonder whether or not you want to invest any money in altering relatively cheap clothes.

Anyone who is handy with a sewing machine in the East Village for whom I can trade favors (resume? nasty letters? a few batches of biscotti?) please give me a shout.

Sigh. In the abstract, it's a cool costumey skirt, no? A couple of notes:
- I think the ribbons belong squarely in the back.
- Although it looks longish in the picture, it's a miniskirt on me.
- This would look snappy with the boots from a previous post and a white stretch shirt. And pearls. But this is not interview wear, folks. At least not for day jobs.

From Homicide: "Night of the Dead Living"

If you spent any time in Baltimore without air conditioning, you know how hot it gets, even at night. This was the story of one night, and wondering about a candle that was always lit in the squad room, mysteriously, and how a roomful of the city's best detectives couldn't figure out how, who or why it was there.

Script quote courtesy of Homicide: Scripts on the Street.

(Crossover note; PO Thormann is played by Lee Tergesen, later Beecher of "Oz.")

Inside the squadroom, Munch blows out the candle. Thormann, wearing a tuxedo, walks over to him.

Thormann: What do you do that for, every night?

Munch: What's with you?

Thormann: I gotta got to a wedding.

Munch: At this hour?

Thormann: It's a long story. The wedding's in Connecticut - Old Saybrook. Eva and I are driving up.

Munch: Uh-huh.

Thormann: I know you're the one who lights the candle.

Munch: Yeah.

Thormann: So, why?

Munch: It's for all the ones who've been killed.

Thormann: Uh huh.

Munch: What I don't know is, who lit it when I was gone?

Thormann: I did.

Munch: You?

Thormann: Yeah.

Munch: Why?

Thormann: I figured it was important to you.

Munch: It's gonna be our little secret, okay?

Thormann: Yeah, sure, okay.

The air conditioning kicks in.

Munch: Air conditioner's working.


Er, how about a hug-

You know, you can diet and exercise to look more shapely, clean up nice, therapize out of a funk, read up and edumacize yourself...but can anyone really make themselves more lovable?

I don't think so, really. Indeed.


On a semi-unrelated note, I've looked over the scripted characters I've done over the years. Starting in first grade, here's a sampling:

The Selfish Giant - title role. (first grade. Mostly because I could read)

Some play in fourth grade where I was a time traveler accused by historical/literary figures of being a liar. I wasn't a liar, but time travel is cool, and it turned out I really had a head injury. Cool.

Ludlow Fair (Lanford Wilson) - Agnes. Zhlubby single city gal, tough on the outside, with a screwy romantic center that isn't revealed till the final monologue. (College One-acts festival. Of course, I couldn't even commit to rolling my hair during the final monologue, and got the director to let me shave my legs instead, adding comic relief. Note that shaving your legs twice in two days is a bitch.)

An incredibly filthy sketch where I played a racist Ukranian dominatrix. I love this character, I do. She just wants to be famous, is that so wrong?

Glengarry Glen Ross (David Mamet) - This was a reading, to be fair. I played Williamson. In a cast of characters where most people hated each other, everyone hated Williamson. I did a fine job, indeed. I fucking love this play. Typecasting?


no more grilled cheese before bed

I had a "discovery channel health" nightmare that i weighed 402 pounds on a digital scale...like the kid in "I'm 16 and morbidly obese." Scary! Not for nothing, but I was shopping for a digital scale on the Bed Bath and Beyond website before bed. I also bought sheets and a damn bath mat though, so what the fuck!


Come see this.

The Pulp Fiction quiz -

beatles or elvis?
partridge family or brady bunch?
peter strauss or nick nolte?
talk or listen?
betty or veronica?

Great finger on the personality pulse pop-culture quiz. Thanks, Quentin!


Comically simple!

With a nod to John Waters (as I first probably saw this in B-more anyway, and it was just quoted in "Dirty Shame," Waters' last film that's on LOGO now)...

a ridiculously catchy short film made at CalArts in 1974 now on Flash!

Do you like?

hee hee.

I would dedicate this to a friend (I'm sending this entry to), but I don't have a pseudonym yet. Will report back soon!


When lousy sleep happens to good people....

"Us sing, and dance, and holler, just wanting to be loved."
- Shug Avery (Margaret Avery), "The Color Purple" Yeah, I cry like an idiot.

"I've got a husband. I don't need another one."
- Janey Carver (Sigourney Weaver), "The Ice Storm" Now, who inhabits a character better than Sigourney? Tell me, people I don't know!

"You're chewing gum?"
- Miles (Paul Giamatti), "Sideways" I think I finally like this movie.


Broadway Flea Market 2006!

It's already Tuesday and I haven't gotten around to this yet. Every year I attend and rhapsodize about the folks, finds, etc. So here it is!

Sunday turned out not to suck too badly, weatherwise, but since major storms were predicted, the 'let's get there early' strategy didn't work out and the place was thronged at 10 AM, when I met my college-and-theater/market buddy Jessica at the starting point, 44th and 8th. I kind of love meeting at 'the usual place' since there's so few things in life I'm consistent about; I can't remember when we started hitting the Flea Market. Every year, things are a little different, but basically the same...but in that good way. Before I get any cheesier, let's move on.

I think because of the rain, there were way fewer books then last year. Usually we come out with buttloads of dollar books and plays (that's where I scored my highly useful copy of "Glengarry Glen Ross") - I meant to pick up that extra copy of Shurtleff's "Audition" (highly recommended by Billy Merritt, and I've lent mine out twice), but I absently laid it down and forgot. I did grab "Writing the Broadway Musical," as we discussed how all the new ones happen to suck mightily. It's true! Which memorabilia sweatshirts are going to be $2 next year? Hmmm!

We browsed show jackets and bathrobes - nothing as fabulous as the Tony Awards robe she scored a few years ago. I made a huge find at the "Broadway Bares" stripper/fund raiser booth (I've never used the wrapping paper I bought long ago, it's still in my headboard drawer) - gold lame heels, gold sequin wristbands and a blue feather boa, all for $15. Hello halloween! I was highly tempted by the gowns on the "Hairspray" rack, but they were, pricewise (but not size-wise) out of my league. We avoided playbills, pored over kitsch, snorted at inflated prices ($100 for a Sweeney Todd pie plate? Indeed not!) and picked up a few odds and ends. A light haul, overall.

We caught a glimpse of Bebe Neuwirth in the non-cloistered 'celebrity photo booth.'

The quality find this year was post-fair-examine-the-stash breakfast at the coffee shop at the Edison Hotel , which I'd heard about but never seen. Wind your way through the lobby and fabulous heavy-duty old country food awaits you! I'm a sucker for restaurants that still have whiteboard with black letters pressed in them. "I thought the blintzes would be light..." said my dining companion, staring down a Dixie cup full of sour cream. I gazed over my pancakes and dish of bacon and noticed that they never charged me for that coffee refill after all.

Good times, once again. Let's hope they bring the drag queens back to the raffle wheel someday!


Hero Machine 2.0!

You've gotta love this site!

I like that there are two ass-kicking female form options. And lots of hair, boots, sidekicks and accessories for all!

Seriously, deep down inside, this is what I really look like, Ace bandages and all.

Show me your Superheroes!

This post is about me.

I am supposed to be at H&R Block meeting the once and/or future ex to do the taxes. At noon. On 23rd Street.

It is 11:48. I am not dressed. I can't locate the W-2s.

This is not good.

My stomach hurts.

Edit: Meeting Postponed! Meeting Postponed!


This post is NOT about you.

Regarding "Cathouse: The Series"

1. Is Airforce Amy closer to 20, 30, 40 or 50? Yeesh!
2. If you're going to dye the hair that blonde, ladies, how 'bout springing for the eyebrows too? Not a good look, Sunset!
3. Is it just me, or are people shelling out good cash for some pretty tame stuff? I mean really, if you're going to push the limit of your precious University of Alabama Alumni VISA, why spend it just watching your wife get furiously fondled by another woman? Maybe America really is bo-ring!

Pet my pussy, but only if you stimulate me first. It's only logical.

Good lord, what is a pet date?

I'm fascinated by highly specialized dating sites. Even though I'm not looking for anyone lately. It's the same thing that draws me to the clothing racks in vintage stores and tiny dressmakers' shops in the East Village, gazing at 50s crinoline frocks and 60s sheath dresses. Just Not for Me, but the colors and textures are interesting.

For the merely snooty, or the creepily eugenic. these are sites for the intellectual-elitist (GoodGenes is more inclusive than the Right Stuff, oddly enough).

However, this is now my favorite one:

Trek Passions: OnLine Dating for SciFi Fans.

Live Long and Prosper, sex fiends. I'm going to polish off my Bajoran ear cuff and sharpen my bat'hleth*.

I wonder if anyone meets face to face.

*waiting to get spelling correction on that.


"Grrrrreetings Princess Cindy....and how are ya?"

In my opinion, the best "SuperSweet 16" (or as the girl's mom says, Super Swit Sixtin) episode is the Staten Island one. Where did they 'suddenly' get the $14,000 anyway? Did the 'brothers' beat the crap out of Prince Charming behind the catering hall? Will the tiny loud girl fall during the "Dirty Dancing" dance?

Oh, when bad TV happens to good people. I fondly recalled the time I hypnotized an otherwise well-educated culturally literate friend of mine (cable-free, proud Netflixer of documentaries, British public television and the "West Wing") with four or five straight episodes of "Next."

There's a new RW/RR Challenge starting Thursday. I can't wait!

"Peter Jennings Is Dead" - Live at the Monmouth County Fringe Festival!!!

The reviews are in!

"Who ARE these people??"
- Larry David

"Schmaltzy! I LOVED it!"
- Alan Alda

"You have to publish these things in threes, right?"
- Roger Ebert

"Peter Jennings is Dead" is the meta-satirical story of two rising young wordsmiths hurtling towards the center of the sun...one swig of cheap tequila and scathing remark at a time. And they KNOW. Just. How. Amusing. They. Are. Do YOU? Do THEY? DO THEY???

The Monmouth County Fringe Festival is fortunate to welcome these talented and breathtakingly attractive folks fresh from their well-received runs at LiveArts06 in King of Prussia, Pennsylvania and SpringArtSouth in Bel Air, Maryland.

Written by and starring Isabella Bonaventura-Shapiro (Bronx Public Television Seminar Series, SpeedBall HappyTime Theatre, ArtsArena) and Trent Regan Sharpe (Masters of Disaster, SpeedBall HappyTime Theatre, NewArtsFest 2.2). Directed by jean-pette josephson (Shakespeare by the Sea, SpeedBall HappyTime Theatre, Beckett on Beckett).

Showtimes 230 and 430 PM Friday, Saturday and Sundays (630 PM show added!). Tickets $5, $4 with FringePass.


Obsessive much? The beginnings...eh?

I used to really love hockey biographies when I was in elementary school. Any biographies, really, but I went on a mad streak I think, in fourth or fifth grade where I read every single non-fiction hockey book in the school and probably the public library. Books about the 'original' six-team NHL, and every hockey player bio there was. Bobby Hull, Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard. Knew about obscure Canadian towns, helmetless hockey, the absence of the forward pass.

New York Rangers
Montreal Canadiens
Toronto Maple Leafs
Boston Bruins
Chicago Black Hawks
Detroit Red Wings

That was it until the 1960s. And I did NOT google that, suckas!

I actually remember when helmets were optional. Remember hockey hair? Mike Bossy? I remember feeling guilty being a die-hard Islander fan because they were a lousy expansion team. Of course, those were impending DYNASTY years, suckas.

The one actual hockey player in my high school was a buddy of mine, and a die-hard Ranger fan who was five-three and openly ridiculed (actually, mostly for being a Ranger fan if I remember correctly). He got tall and gorgeous shortly after graduation.

I never got an actual Islander replica jersey. Too expensive. I opted for a real-ish Mets jersey, no number (too expensive, and I couldn't decide between 12 - Ron Darling - or 16 - Lee Mazzilli.) It was pinned on my dorm room wall, and I can't find the damn thing now. I never did the girl thing and got a 10K or 14K faceted gold Islanders/Stanley Cup charm at the Tri-County Flea Market. Never.

Hockey pretty much sucks now, though, doesn't it?

Ohhhh CANADA we stand on guard for theeeeeee!


Obsessive much? The beginnings...eh?

I used to really love hockey biographies when I was in elementary school. Any biographies, really, but I went on a mad streak I think, in fourth or fifth grade where I read every single non-fiction hockey book in the school and probably the public library. Books about the 'original' six-team NHL, and every hockey player bio there was. Bobby Hull, Gordie Howe, Rocket Richard. Knew about obscure Canadian towns, helmetless hockey, the absence of the forward pass.

New York Rangers
Montreal Canadiens
Toronto Maple Leafs
Boston Bruins
Chicago Black Hawks
Detroit Red Wings

That was it until the 1960s. And I did NOT google that, suckas!

I actually remember when helmets were optional. Remember hockey hair? Mike Bossy? I remember feeling guilty being a die-hard Islander fan because they were a lousy expansion team. Of course, those were impending DYNASTY years, suckas.

The one actual hockey player in my high school was a buddy of mine, and a die-hard Ranger fan who was five-three and openly ridiculed (actually, mostly for being a Ranger fan if I remember correctly). He got tall and gorgeous shortly after graduation.

I never got an actual Islander replica jersey. Too expensive. I opted for a real-ish Mets jersey, no number (too expensive, and I couldn't decide between 12 - Ron Darling - or 16 - Lee Mazzilli.) It was pinned on my dorm room wall, and I can't find the damn thing now. I never did the girl thing and got a 10K or 14K faceted gold Islanders/Stanley Cup charm at the Tri-County Flea Market. Never.

Hockey pretty much sucks now, though, doesn't it?

Ohhhh CANADA we stand on guard for theeeeeee!

Englightenment comes in the strangest places.

Corollary: Book covers are neat! Remember when you used to have to make them out of paper bags? Which I claimed were cooler anyway, cause you could write and doodle on them, and make hearts you had to cross out, and write the word "KISS" in fun Kiss fonts (of course I didn't know what a 'font' was in 1977) and draw the only doodle cartoons I knew how to (the Peanuts characters; Linus was the hardest cause of his funny shaped head under his spindly hair; Snoopy on his house was the easiest and was extra funny if he was smoking a cigarette). Those glossy book covers with college seals on them were dumb and didn't fit onto science books anyway and would slip off by October anyway and by then nobody cared and they'd end up jammed in the back of your desk to be fished out on the last day before Christmas along with some candy wrappers and some pencils and a torn paperback cover for a hockey biography you forgot to return to the library and that now you were responsible for. Big time. But now book covers come in stretchy fabric, one in a package for paperbacks and make the covers of your book kind of bendy but they're great for covering up the covers of books you don't want people to see on the PATH train. I don't know if that's why I bought them, and I felt ripped off because I thought there were two in the package but there was only one. And I must have bought them with that in mind, because I bought two books, but you can only read one at a time; at least, I can, I don't multitask well when it comes to reading, actually reading, not re-reading or bathroom reading like "Life in Hell" or something.

Forget it. I'm not going to tell you what I was reading on the PATH train. I will tell you, though, it was enlightening. And, at the moment, covered in stretchy blue fabric.

Note to #1 Cousin: You'll be glad I didn't! And don't forget to come for drinks, bring my "little cousin!" too!

(If you're reading this blog, you're probably invited for drinks!)


Anonymous messages about Nothing.

Dear Anonymous,



Dear Meldrick,

Nice hat. And, thanks.

(Kidding. Someday I'll have that quiz up...but I no longer have Kay Howard hair.)


Fascinating bastard (the title of my short-story collection to be).

"You are a fascinating bastard."
- Blair Brown (Emily), "Altered States"

"Altered States" is an incredible love story. If you're a stupendous nerd enamored of well-turned science-babble and tacky 1980-era (vector-graphics meet Nova meet stop-motion) special effects, that is. And, the debut of William Hurt, creating the first of a string of pale, strong-jawed performances before stoicism and restraint were discovered simply to be Limited Range.

But what a fine looking mad scientist he is. Y'all know I can't resist an irresistable, self-centered whacko, especially one so damn rangy. So pale his rangy naked body (and yes, he is often naked, poor exploited Bill Hurt) glows slightly blue in the darkness. (He spends most of the movie flanked by a couple of shaggy Jews. Guess who's the Jews, youse! Answer at the end of this work of literary art.)

And (spoilers, my Netflixy friends...) Blair Brown, no slouch herself in the brains and pallor department here, sticks with him. Brings him back from the ultimate void. No mere affair, no simple dalliance. The fucking depths of multidimensional space, the beginnings of time, creation, G-d and the universe itself...the terrible, terrible void...

Damn. I love a happy ending. A happy, naked, glowy, ending. And vintage-1980 lasers and mitotic cell slides. The rising-string soundtrack, however, can take a walk.

Who's the Jews? Bob "Great in Everything" Balaban and Charles "Maybe Not a Jew but Looks Like a Damn Hippie aka Renko in Hill Street and Merv Griffin's Cousin" Haid.

Trivia Bonus! Who else makes their movie debut? A very tiny Drew Barrymore!


Yes, I know what day it is

Today I've awoken, annoyed enough that I have to get on a PATH train at World Trade Center to Newark-

Oh, yeah. Damn.

Nothing much else to say, really. NPR is doing the 'creative' take from the Sears tower. Channel 5, the heartfelt take from Long Island. NY 1, straight up from downtown.



...but this amused me a LOT

Meth Mural!

Things that have amused me mildly today

1. An email from a super-high-tech company to me (in response to a job application) addressed: "Dear Sir or Madam"

2. "I was hyperventilating...seriously, it was like the worst day of my life."
- Carmen Electra's personal assistant, when some other celeb turned up with Carmen's dress at a red carpet event because the other celeb, without the PA's knowledge, BOUGHT THE DRESS IN A STORE.

3. My Thomas's lite bagel had no hole. Guess you get what you deserve when you buy lite bagels in a bag.

Yes, I want people to stop reading my blog, I do. I fear it has, up to this point, been far too stimulating.

As flaky as a home-made pie crust

But not one made by me, or that braless whore Sandra Lee, or that toothy twat Rachael Ray, or that bobbleheaded teeth-gritting self-loathing-because-she's-not-Martha Ina Gartner.

Anyway, for several reasons, at least one biochemical and one professional, my sleep cycle is flip-flopped and it is causing me severe distress, so I apologize for actual or perceived flakiness on my part. I shall return, shortly.

Busy, busy. I can't afford to feel this awful and function this poorly right now.

Giada DeLaurentiis is lovely, actually. Her food is nice and simple, her presentation earnest and unaffected. Although, as my friend "Keller"* says, she does appear as if she's "perpetually gazing into a Christmas ornament." And she has old man hands.

*not cause he's crazy but because he's got a crush on Christopher Meloni.

Recipe!! These are for the superlazy, culinarily inept, and to be published in my upcoming volume "Cooking for PUSSIES"

Cans of Chilaquiles - ridiculously easy, and calorically flexible.

Corn Tortillas (cheap ass ones are better, since they're thicker - Goya or Key Food brand)
Can chopped or stewed tomatoes, drained. The kind with chiles are nice.
Can refried beans. I use Old El Paso fat free.
Large (12-16 oz) jar of salsa.
8 oz bag of shredded cheese, some orange kind. I used Kraft Free, actually. Sure, you could go ahead and grate your own. Whatever.
Sour cream.

In a baking dish (I use a 2 quart, or a 13x9x2 may be slightly larger) sprayed with nonstick spray:
Layer the following:
Tortillas (tear some to fit)
Refried beans
Salsa mixed with canned tomatoes
The final layer should have no beans and slighly less salsa/tomato mixture, just enough to moisten, and topped with cheese.
(it's roughly 3 layers of tortillas, by the way)
Bake at 375 until cheeze is browned and bubbly, about 20-30 minutes.

Let cool (this is nuclear hot.) Serve with sour cream. (Reduced fat sour cream does not suck. Fat free sour cream sucks greatly).


My my, aren't we cynical?

"I think you should only fuck when you're really in love...of course it could be for a very short time."

- Sam Kinison

From now on I am only going to fall in love in three hour increments, tops.

I had a brilliant IM conversation earlier this evening about love (I never thought I'd say that.) Unfortunately, it's gone deleted.

To paraphrase that old chestnut, "The most wretched way you can get burned, is to fall for wrecks and get wrecked in return."

Like I told another old friend tonight, I'm made of stone. I am, I swear. She didn't believe me. I also told her I am one-sixteenth empath and one-sixteenth retarded. It's true!



Attention span: poor.
Nutrional analysis: pathetic.
Bags under eyes: huge.
Self-evaluation: D+ (my favorite grade of all time)

Look, I had this brilliant entry parsed out in my head, about the finer distinctions between "lonely" and "lonesome." Then I got sidetracked by the idea of nicknames, and how I finally decided that, not only should my friends appear in here (the non-bloggy ones especially) in creatively disguised names, that may or may not change, they also may be named after television characters with whose universe I am currently obsessed. Hence, the part of the conversation above (re lonesome, lonely and its sequelae, literary and personal) that inspired that discussion I had with drinks with my longtime buddy, the sharp and snappy "Meldrick Lewis."

I'm sure he'd be pleased with that appellation.

Before I use any longer words or eat another croissant cracker, or browse another stupid web page, or case another airline for cheap fares overseas, I'm going to curl up in a ball and collapse, thank you.

Meldrick. Perfect! Just wait for the "Which Fontana/Simon/Wolf Character Are You" quiz in Salon or some such suitable vehicle. (And of course, who was the most annoying "Homicide" character - Falsone? Mike Giardello? Megan Russert? Brodie? Deep in my heart of hearts, I may covet Tim Bayliss in leather, but I crush hard on Michelle Forbes.)

Ok. Go to bed. For real.

I have just realized I have tied my hair up with a drinking straw.


I am in Oz.

Let's put it this way. I realized this after I got a promotion to work in the Warden's office last night because of my mad skillz.

If life were Oz, right now, I would currently be in a room with Burr Redding, the white small-town sheriff who was in protective custody with "Mobay" and Clayton Hughes (and who also tripped CO Howell down the stairs for O'Reilly), and the rich preppie kid who Beecher tried unsuccesfully to 'save' from becoming an Aryan prag. (Sorry for the inaccuracies, but I want to limit my electronic trail and not go on ImDB.) Augustus Hill's already left for the day.

And I am an unmedicated Miguel Alvarez.



In case you've been asleep at the proverbial wheel...

At this time, this blog is apparently about the following:

1. An unseemly obsession with "Homicide" and any number of connections thereto (Tom Fontana, Baltimore, bisexuality)
2. Food (including but not limited to recipes, food quirks and hateful Food Network troll-bitch-hosts. Look out Ina Gartner, look out.)
3. An unhealthy, overwrought analysis of relationships past, present and future often through the use of slightly obscure ballads.

Just so you know.

Meanwhile, the Richmond County Fair is September 9th and 10th. Did you know that Richmond County (aka Staten Island) even HAD a friggin' fair? Does that mean deep-fried Italian sausage on a stick? Fuhgeddaboutit!


Recipe! II

I just made some smashing pork chops, with ingredients found around the house. (I'd defrosted then forgotten about them, and they needed to be prepared, just like in that Raymond Carver story "Auction" where the fridge breaks and she has to prepare all the meats in the dead appliance before she heads to an auction to buy a new-used one...but I digress.) Judicious use of prepared ingredients is fine; however, in no way should you compare me to that braless dipsomaniac whore, Sandra Lee, another hateful hussy in the Food Network's stable and the 'star' of Semi-Homemade cooking, adding booze to Cool Whip and calling it magic. Bitch. Anyway....

Pork Chops That Are Wicked Fancy And Smell Great!

4 Boneless Pork Chops (Fresh Direct)
Honey Dijon Salad Dressing (or some other vinaigrette - not creamy - dressing)
Fine Bread Crumbs mixed with a sprinkling of dried oregano (whomp stale French bread in your blender or food processor and save in a container in your fridge, or use the canned kind - plain - if you must. Panko is too gritty for this recipe, as much as I love being snooty and all).
2 zipper-type plastic bags, gallon size. (Oh, generic branding)
About 1 cup (yes) medium-grade balsamic vinegar
About 1 cup red wine
1 red onion, sliced into half and then into thin strips
Olive Oil

Pour about 1/2 bottle salad dressing into bag (If you're too snooty for purchased dressing, mix up about 1 cup of 3:1 olive oil/white wine vinegar plus 1 TB dijon mustard) and add chops. Marinate in fridge from 15 minutes to 1 hour.

In your big Calphalon or nonstick skillet, heat about 2 tsp olive oil on high heat till it swirls about.

Pour about 2 cups crumbs into another bag and add 1 TB oregano, salt and pepper. Toss wet chops in their to coat. Slip each chop into oil, using a fork. Brown on each side, about 2-3 minutes, swirling oil around in pan.

Now, pour the vinegar on. This is very aromatic. Reduce heat slightly and cook down the vinegar; watch this, it tends to caramelize in roughly 5 minutes or so. Turn the chops around and over to coat. Watch to see that the vinegar has almost evaporated and is thick in the bottom of the pan.

Add the wine (carefully, it will splatter), scraping up the vinegar and stirring it into the wine. Add the onions and mix into the wine sauce. (If you are feeling naughty it would be appropriate to swirl 2 TB of butter in at this point, but it is completely optional. I did not do this.)

Let the onions soften and the sauce reduce slightly, until it is as thick as you like it; this should take just a few minutes. Check the chops - they will be white inside but still juicy.

It's really easy - you can be pretty imprecise with the liquid measurements and still be happy. The key is to come up about halfway to the sides of the chops. And don't overcook them!

Subject Change! More on the batting cages!

Manly Thing To Do #1: Batting Cages and Why they are Cool (Or, Don't just be the chick who holds the guy's wallet! Get in there and hit the damn ball!)

1. You will sweat, seriously. Great for upper arms and twisting at the waist. And to be effective, you've got to get your legs involved. Otherwise you will have a pussy-ass swing, kind of like bowling by standing and shoving the ball down the lane or shooting baskets underhand. I myself have never, ever shot a basketball underhand. That is for total pussies. Word to the wise - even if you think you're macho, you probably kind of suck. Even if you are a master of the slow pitch, medium pitch is TWICE as fast, and the mat at the backstop makes it scary loud. So, know when to be a pussy. OK?? OK!

2. You will look dorky but cute in a batting helmet. Stride over to the drink machines and get the low-cal black cherry Powerade. Yummers!

3. Need I say that whacking a ball is a total rush and a great stress release? Or is that just me and my super-wound-up-ness?

4. It's pricey but not a bad activity-fee, if you know what I mean. Chelsea Piers is stingy on the balls ($2 for 10) but if you're not used to it, you'll work hard. You will also take more time than you think, especially if you chat, whine or marvel at your friends/s.o./object of desire between swings.

5. A Peroni and a justifiable (and finely prepared) plate of fried calamari on the deck at the Frying Pan afterwards is highly recommended after a quick touch-up in the ladies room. (It's also near the spot where you can do free kayaking and such. Hooray! But that's another topic for another time, as is my secret desire to be able to figure-skate again, and to swim around Manhattan.)

what it's about and why it makes me sad

Make it go away or make it better
Isn’t that what love is supposed to do?
Make it go away or make it better
Cause I would do either one for you

This is not the way you should see me
This is not the face I recognize
Could I lay my head down here for a moment?
Would you sing to me like I’m your child?

Cause I’m not angry I’m not crying
I’m just in over my head
You could be the angel that stayed on my shoulder
When all of the other angels left

Make it go away
Cause I am weakened
This is more than one should have to take
If you do this for me then I will promise
I’ll make it go away for you someday

There are reasons with silver linings
There are lessons but I don’t care
Cause I just need a hand that I can hold onto
When it’s darker than death out there

- Holly Cole, "Make it Go Away"

I cannot begin to say how many people I've tried to do this for. And I'm so sorry when I've tried and failed.

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love and be loved in return."
- Moulin Rouge (and other places)

Terribly, terribly sad. There's quotes about loving and losing, and never loving at all. But can you love wrongly? Does love stop? Is real love ever misguided?

I wish I knew.

I'm never philosophical, and this worries me greatly. I'd rather just hold on to something concrete, like a song. The song is beautiful, really.

I heard it on "Homicide."


A small scrap (or square) of wisdom...and other miscellaney

Life's too short to buy cheap toilet paper. Seriously. Splurge on the good stuff.

I got about a quart of blood removed from my veins, one tube at time. I'm tired.

I need to throw a party, and soon. The question is not why, but when and where. A dinner party? Happy hour? The dreaded karaoke bash?


First Idiotic Thing Heard Today

"And it's a good, delicious dinner of breast...cause that's the healthiest part of the chicken right?"

- Rachel Ray, 30 Minute Meals (stuffing chicken breasts with some kinds of nuts and drizzling them with some space age compound called EVOO. Yes, I know what that is. I guess when you have 30 minutes, you can't say "oil" but you can say "screaming hot" in reference to pan temperature.)


A poll for the gentlemen and perhaps a portion of the ladies

Please to tell me, what is hot? (And then please to tell me why I am typing in a bad fakey-Slavo-American accent? Okay, that bit's over.)

a) Woman hitting a baseball
b) Woman playing a saxophone
c) Woman smoking a good cigar
d) Woman firing a gun (presumably not at you; let's presume a nonhuman target)

Curiousity abounds?! At one point, I'd post a poll on the jolly old improv boards, but I'm trying to diversify my internet options and sample population at the current time. I've also done three of the four things above as an adult.



In the spirit of two culinary gems of blogs, Put it In your Mouth (mysteriously un-updated lately, come back!) and Good American Wife, whose author I will be greenmarketing with this weekend, I am posting a simple yet tasty dinner recipe that cooks and kitchen amateurs alike will certainly enjoy!

Shredded "Barbecue" Chicken for the Apartment-Dweller

2 boneless skinless chicken breasts. (I'm sure thighs would work well too)
2 cups chicken broth (I used the Fancy Organic kind in a cardboard box. You can use whatever brand you'd like)
1 bottle (12 oz) barbecue sauce (I used a Fancy Organic maple-smoked Annie's brand. Again...use your favorite).

Whisk together the sauce and the broth in a saucepan or large deep skillet. This takes some doing, because they are texturally dissimilar; don't worry if they're not completely together! Heat to a boil, stirring (the sauce will melt a little, and they will mix).

When bubbly, slip in the chicken breasts. Cover the pan, turn down to simmer (gentle bubbles) and cook at least 1/2 hour; flip them over every 15 minutes or so. Check in 1/2 hour; chicken should be super-tender when pulled with a fork and not pink.

When done, turn off heat and let cool a little. Shred chicken in the sauce with 2 forks, pulling the meat apart. Toss in the sauce to coat. Pile up on some soft rolls, like hamburger or hotdog rolls (my personal choice). A side of coleslaw is nice.

Coleslaw made with Dole bagged coleslaw mix and fatfree blue cheese dressing is great with this. Make it while the chicken is cooking, and it gets slightly squishy, slightly crunchy. If you are alone or in really close company, put some on top of the sandwich.

HINT: If they still have this, get the Calphalon 'starter' pan at the otherwise annoying Bed Bath & Beyond. Get the 10 or 12 inch. It comes with a lid and will cook nearly everything in the world you need to cook. Just don't scratch the bottom with your forks. It is incredible, and for Calphalon is pretty cheap (probably 39.99. It is completely worth it. It cleans up with a napkin. It is completely worth it. Don't buy any other Calphalon, if you love it go to the outlet, for cripes sake. No one needs a nonstick spaghetti pot, by the way.)

HINT: If you think it may look done earlier, check it. If it's slightly overdone, don't sweat it, that's what sauce is for. But underdone chicken breasts or thighs are just nasty, seriously.

Sure, one may say that Season 7 of Homicide may suck

But for my money you can't get a piece of dead-on amazing legal drama than the last five minutes of "The Twenty-Percent Solution."

Holy crap, that's well-written, dramatic, smart and just really neat.

Danvers smoking is also adorable. Hee hee.


Forgive me Lord...or ohmygawd

Help me.

First off, I actually used the words "cute outfit" tonight in a sentence.

Second of all, I actually crave a pair of shoes. Well, boots, actually, and they're still pretty bad-ass.

I blame the hormones. I do. But damn, those are some sweet boots.

(I could also be going through my 'it's fall, and I think I like tall boots, but I don't" phase. Perhaps, like men, I just haven't found the right pair. Did that sound wrong? Hmmm.)


More Balto-crime fiction trivia

Are the stock footage-shots of the housing projects being blown up in the first episode of the Wire Season 3* (being commented on by Bodie and Malik) the same ones being lamented by Det. Meldrick Lewis in Homicide**?

*HBO On Demand.
***I continue to be ridiculous.


insomnia time theater

In this world there's a kind of painful progress, longing for what's left behind and dreaming ahead.

- Angels in America

Headache Dreams

1. In a dreamy battered new-old apartment. It had levels (Levels, jerry!), white plaster walls and wonderful architectural details, beat up wood floors, a dreamy-dusty quality to it as light streamed in the painted-white-wood frame windows. The rooms had high ceilings. The kitchen had tin cabinets, some with glass panels, and was spacious, with a great big wooden table like Mark's in Brooklyn or ours in Baltimore, with an abundance of groceries. There was a side door leading outside into a nebulous neighborhood that was so lovely. One of my roommates was ethereal, and resembled vaguely someone I know named Becky or someone I went to college with named Patty, I don't recall exactly. My room was in disarray but I had a feather bed and an iron bedframe.

2. I was at a job in a courthouse, the lighting was dim and the elevators terrible; I was heading to or from a large auditorium, running into colleagues, and I was so confused. Did I have theater tickets or not? Was I due at a lecture? The elevators were small and shaky and the stairwells barely lit, with heavy doors behind them.

3. I was with friends, new and strange girls younger than me. I had a broken large handbag with a too-short strap that kept slipping off my shoulder; we were in a McDonald's and were running to a house party in a strange city; I was juggling my bag, work clothes because I had partially changed, and a soda. I spilled the soda, and they laughed; I got another one as they headed to the car. The counter girl, their friend, gave me another. I dropped that one too, and was embarrassed to ask for another; I was a mess, covered in spilled drink, but I needed to get another; I was frozen. I couldn't put my stuff down because there was soda everywhere.


One giant post instead of three stupid little ones

1. Pair o'Docs, or why the eff am I on jDate?

For someone who doesn't want involvement, I spend too much time on cheesy personal ad sites. Kind of like eBay for humans; I like to ponder how accurate they are in their descriptions, see how long it would take for them to be snapped up and the like. I'd come up with a better analogy, but the Diet Coke is fogging my brain pan.

Fun Facts:

- There are non-jews on jDate, didya know that? Oy!
- Nerve personals is incompatible with Firefox. Ouch!
- Once, my friend M- and I played email tag with a plushie (or is it furry?) on alt.com. The photos received were legendary. (Considering there were costumes AND stuffed animals, our friend may have been both.) Grrrr!

This is how not interested I am:
- There is a Star Trek-related paperback in my bathroom.
- My sheets are barely attached to my bed...because the cat clawed them.
- I haven't cleared the laptop browser of embarrasing web browsing acts nor cleared my coffee table of an embarrasing quantity of takeout menus.

I am slightly disturbed to find out that I am out of Nair, however. I'm nothing if not slightly prepared. I'm still slightly vain about that.


I've got a bunch of shows coming up.

I've got one Tuesday at the Laugh Lounge that I'd really like to invite you to. Whomever you are.

Check it out here.

3. My feelings at this moment can best be expressed by Courtney Love.

I missed a party the other night because I was dead dog tired.

I missed a workshop today because I am stone cold stupid.

I showed up at the dentist Friday and had no appointment.

Just a peek into my aforementioned damaged brain.

"I'm Miss World. Somebody kill me."
- Hole


Fontana, Simon, and the Venn Diagram of crime shows


If I haven't mentioned it before, I'm obsessively plowing through all seven seasons of Homicide: Life on the Streets. And lucky for me, On Demand has re-upped The Wire and Oz. There are a ridiculous number of connections between these three shows, as well as Fontana-generated (cameos as far back as St. Elsewhere and a short-lived show called "The Beat" which, having just discovered it, I must locate.. Mark Ruffalo and Lea DeLaria? Jeez), Dick Wolf (L&O and its incarnations) and David Simon (The Corner) connections. You see the cast of one, you've got a third of the cast of the other. Even a pre-Carmela Edie Falco appears on two Fontana shows (Oz and Homicide). Dean Winters is pervasive, Lee Tergesen has a self-effacing cameo flair to him, and the Belz is everywhere.

The record-holders are, of course the Belz - appearing in the SAME character in seven or eight shows (You can look it up in Wikipedia!) - two different L&O (regular & SVU), Homicide, the aforementioned The Beat, X-Files and Arrested Development. I can't locate the others, but damn.

Who appears to beat all in different incarnations is the omnipresent and odd-looking Reg E. Cathey. He's been on Oz (Don't Fuck with Querns), Homicide (drug dealer Bernard Weeks), L&O (hell, who hasn't?) and the Corner (fuck, no one watched that except me).

I need to get back to work. Or hop down to Bawlmer for a weekend. Or stalk Tom Fontana just so I can check out his Oz tattoo.


Who amongst you doesn't think that Gov. James Devlin isn't an embittered ASA Ed Danvers (Homicide)? (Ahh, Zeljko Ivanek!)

And who doesn't believe that the creepiest crossover wasn't Christopher Meloni - while he was Christopher Keller (Oz) he was Det. Elliot Stabler on SVU. Couldn't watch SVU without thinking of Keller's murderous, rapin' but hot arse.

What's on now? From "The Wire: Season 2":

ASA Rhonda Perlman: I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your wife, I'm not your soulmate....what the fuck am I?
Det. Jimmy McNulty: We're good together.
RP: Answer the question.
JM: No.

I'm a fucking lunatic. Any way to profit from this?

What a character! Or, guess who bought a new scanner.

I'm adorable! (age 3?) and I do look like my dad. Awwww!

I caught this! (Age 7) Unafraid of the slimy (I'd already dissected my first fetal pig, thank you) and displaying my characteristing and amazing joint flexibility (Look at that wrist! weird!)

I hit this! (Age 21) Check out the killer form on that swing. Nobody flings a bat better on the "jenkins jets" Biophysics department softball team! (catcher, warm-up pitcher, occasional third baseman if I recall). I miss my glove.


What am I doing RIGHT NOW?

1. Listening to Prince: The Hits 1.
2. Drowning out my colleagues banter about rent stabilization.
3. Working.
4. Having anxiety.
5. Turning up Prince louder.
6. Drinking my second cup of coffee.
7. Watching a colleague toss my bag of pretzels across the room. The bag is open.
8. Inhaling "Chipotle" fumes at 11:49 AM.
9. Preparing to go to pharmacy to fill anxiety meds prescription.
10. Turning up Prince.


Shameless plug.

Miss me?

Check out www.superegocomedy.com - Shameless Plug of Epic Beauty!

More later. I'm beyond literate.


Still want that eggplant parm hero

I'm working overtime, my legs are killing me, got shows and classes, gotta clean the house....and so much more exhausting bullshit I don't need.

The delivery guy is often the pizza chef. Tall, grizzled blondish guy, fortysomething.

Maybe I need a HERO.

Nah. Just a hero.


add message, then mix

1207 AM:

Me: "I got the (divorce) papers in the mail today."
He: "Can I come over and meet the new kitty?"
Me: "Now?"
He: "Yeah...I'm in the subway."
Me: "You'd have to sleep over, that's crazy (etc)"
He: "I'll sleep in the bathtub. I want to meet the kitty. (muttering, repeating, etc.)"

Although the offer of a eggplant parm hero was tempting, I remain solo this evening, albeit a bit hungry.

"Wow..it's got seats!"

I love love love Pimp my Ride! Out of my demographic again, and even more so since I Don't DRIVE. (I also love "Car Talk" - go figure.)

First off, it's the anti-"Sweet Sixteen" - These are people who, dammit, clearly need a damn ride, or a break. I can't imagine being in California, carless. No rich bitches here!

Second, Xzibit is mad adorable. He's got this way of telling you what the sh*t is - how much of a piece of shit your car is, even how over-the-top the millions of video screens or crazy paint jobs are - with an amazing, subtle, near-wink. He's hilarious. I've never heard his music, but he's a hell of a host.

Third, the new garage - GAS - and the garage in general, is a happy fucking place. Like a tricked out Santa's Workshop where ANYTHING can happen. These dudes are hot, quirky, mechanical - and they can do weird shit like sew, paint, install a pottery wheel, for fuck's sake.

Fourth, people are genuinely happy at the end. The mechanical hotties take huge pride in their work; the pimp-ees get a load of free crap in addition to their astounding over the top vehicle. Did you ses the ice-cream truck one? It had a DVR and a robot arm for handing out ice cream. 'Nuff said.

I'm in love. And wonder when the NY edition happens so I can get my brother's disgusting limping Toyota pickup pimped out. I'm thinking lots of monitors, a sweet tape/CD deck (he's scared of the iPod), and a nice cow pattern painted on.

Get Pimp'd!


Rock on.

Meet Goldie.

3 years old, abandoned, adopted from those kitty-rescue people at Petco.

She is currently doing laps around my apartment. I think she hates expensive pet food (thrust into my bewildered hands by Jodie, Kitty godmother). I almost escaped the adoption area, but this girl kitty (no name known) looked so sad and longing in the last cage on the way out. Seriously.

I think she likes me. I've got to go locate her now.

Fear is the mind-killer

WARNING: Upsetting rant ahead.

Yesterday I yelled at a guy for slapping me on the shoulder. Granted, he didn't mean it as an act of aggression, but it was the second time, he was a jerkwad, and my blood is thinner, as my friend DJ Southern Belltower notes, than 'onion juice.' Besides you shouldn't touch anyone, at anytime, really.

The fact is, I am terrified. Terrified.

I went to the hospital last week, because I had a blood clot in my leg. I knew as soon as I felt the pain in my calf, that I was doomed; anxiety set in, fear and anger. Lots and lots of anger.

I was in the hospital five or six days, depending on how you count them, getting my blood thinned, as well as removed from my body in great bruising quantity.

This sucker is still in my body, it is potentially mobile and can yet kill me. At least that is my reasonable belief.

When my lungs got clotted, at least I knew they were already there, safely and surely keeping me from breathing.

Now, I don't know if the shortness of breath and tiredness and achiness are clot-related, hospital-inactivity related, or depression and anxiety-related.

I feel like a fucking ticking time bomb. And I am afraid. And I am furious.

I cannot manifest vulnerability without becoming defensive and angry. And I am very much both right now. I don't know what to eat, drink, whether to stand up or sit down. I don't want companionship but I am terrified to be alone. I don't know who to unload all this to; people get bits and pieces, if they don't get torn to bits and pieces.

Ticking. Time. Bomb.

But I will not stop going to my Delaney class. Because if I dropped dead in the middle of a fantastic, truthful scene, played to the top of my intelligence, I'd consider it a life well spent.

Somebody please read the notes at the funeral.


Did you ever have 'die happy' moments? Moments that you realized, if I died now, got hit by lightening, whatever, I would be content and complete just because of where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with, or some combination thereof?

I had one with my husband once, listening to a chamber music concert at Temple Emanu-El a few years ago. The music, the setting, the feeling of warmth and happiness, perhaps the notion of being in a spiritual (Reform, sure, but whatever) place made me think that particular thought.

I've had a few more since then; I don't care to share them all.

But I equate being supremely happy with being ready to die. What's wrong with me?

My doctor had me call him today for test results. He hasn't called me back. Fucking compliance.

I am scared to inform my temp agency that working in Newark would be a physical hardship right now. Because, quite frankly, it would be. Usually, I'd play through. I play through pain.

Am I taking care of myself? Or am I just an incredible pussy?


More than anything else, I want to lift weights. I want power.


Apologies once again for you three people who read this thing. It was not a plea for sympathy. Maybe just a little understanding. I don't know. My family doesn't really get it; I don't know what friends to tell. Do you call everyone, say hey I'm not quite dead yet? Email? Is there a card for this? Still haven't figured this out.

Certain People are on my case for not being quick enough to acknowledge sympathy; for crying; for expressing fear; for venting anger. I don't know what to do with them. A fair amount of them are related to me.

But honestly, I don't think anyone can understand, aside from a couple of people who I am eternally grateful for.

I will not cry in public, I am going to drink my coffee and use all the expensive Internet access I just got.

In conclusion, Starbucks can blow me.


stolen from someone who stole it from myspace who probably doesn't even read my blog anymore.

Get more meta (or techno-dull) then that, then call me.


1. My ex is... working right now, one would think.

2. I am listening to... the annoying strains of "Family Guy" from another room.

3. Maybe I should .. go to bed.

4. I love ... my nephew.

5. My bestfriends ...are few and precious.

6. I don't understand ... why I do the things I do.

7. I lost ...several Palm Pilots this year.

8. People say ... Do I care what they say? Oh probably.

10. Love is ... scarey

11. Somewhere, someone is ... jerking off.

12. I will always ... be a little hopelessly in love with a few people.

13. Forever seems ...unlikely

14. I never want ... to say never.

15. My cell phone ... is serviceable and overused.

16. When I wake up in the morning ...I am a grumpy bitch

17. I get annoyed... too much.

18. Parties ... aren't my strong suit unless I am throwing it.

19. My pet is... recently deceased.

20. Kisses are the best when ... I am getting them

21. Today I ...shopped and hosted a fairly succesful show.

22. Tomorrow I will ... catch up on things, if possible, and deal with my blood.

23. I really want ... to go on a long trip.


Subject: 4 things for FUN!!

A) Four jobs I have had in my life:

Social Worker
Lab technician
Card/gift shop assistant

B) Four movies I would watch over and over:
All that Jazz
A Mighty Wind
The Blues Brothers
Bull Durham

C) Four places you have lived:
Bethpage, LI, NY
Baltimore, MD
New York, New York
Bronx, NY

D) Four TV shows you love to watch:
The Wire
Pee-Wee's Playhouse
Project Runway
Real World/Road Rules Challenges (shut up)

E) Four Places I have traveled to:
1. London
2. Toronto
3. Chicago
4. Miami

F) Websites you visit daily: (or semi-weekly):
Fox Sports Net

G) Four of my favorite foods:

Mac & Cheese
an amazing steak

H) Four places I would rather be right now:
In bed with a reasonably but not ridiculously cuddly person
Jersey Shore
Las Vegas