Blog-quiz-theft, or putting the "little red machine" to the test

1. What's my mood like right now?
"You Oughta Know" Alanis Morrisette

2. How's the week going to be for me?
"Drug Me" Dead Kennedys (great...)

3. What kind of person am I?
"Montage, Part 2: Mother" - A Chorus Line (huh?)

4. Am I loved?
"Twilight Time" - Leo Kottke

5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
"All Things Dull and Ugly" - Monty Python (huh?)

6. What should I do with my life?
"Ghettomusik" - OutKast (huh??)

7. What is my theme song?
"Contrapuntas 8" - Bach (classic, yet bad-ass)

8. What is my best quality?
"Falling in love Is So Hard on the Knees" - Aerosmith (yikes)

9. How does my sex life look?
"Where you Lead" - Carole King (No comment.)

10. What's the meaning of life?
"Material Girl" covered by kMFDM

11. How do people see me?
"Mari Mac" Great Big Sea

12. Would I make a good catch?
"Pump it Up" covered by Doug Moe at ETV4

13. How crazy am I?
"Hugh Hefner" Lenny Bruce

14. Will I have a good life in general?
"No. 13 Baby" - Pixies"

15. Can me and Kylie Minogue* ever be more than friends?
EDIT - This makes no sense but says a great deal about the person I stole this from. So I refuse to answer on the grounds the Mr. X is a dork.

16. What's going to happen to me this week?
"Pusherman" - Curtis Mayfield (there are far too many sex and drug references in this particular Shuffle.)

17. Where will I be in a year?
"Turn Around" - Billy Joel (In my bedroom? Hmmm.)

18. What is my biggest wish?
"Prison Grove" - Warren Zevon (Fortunately not the answer to the previous question, but it does beg some other serious ones)

19. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
"Dejame Sonar" - Tito Puente (I'd imagine that means either listening to or creating some hella cool music)

20. How will I die?
"Rodeo: 3 Saturday Night Waltz" Aaron Copland (cool!)

21. What will happen after I die?
"Bookends" Simon & Garfunkel

22. How do my friends feel about me?
"Hanukkah Song," Adam Sandler

Well, that's joyful and weird.

Whatever happened to Andrae?

Or Santino, Nick, Daniels, or Zulema?

"Top Chef" is but a poor substitute. That chick is no Heidi. And the contestants are super-whiny. Whiny does not equal 'personality,' folks.

Who can top "You can cry, but you'd better cry and cut." Or the iniminitable Red Lobster bits? Alas.

It's not bad television, and clearly a valiant effort.

Tom Colicchio makes a sharp judge, though.


Come to my show!

Laugh Lounge
830 PM
151 Essex Street
F to 2nd Avenue
$12 + 2 Drinks

Will cover your cover if you want me to. Or come to your shows. Seriously.

Lou Reed's "New York" sums things up nicely sometimes

Busload Of Faith

You can't depend on your family
you can't depend on your friends
You can't depend on a beginning
you can't depend on an end

You can't depend on intelligence
ooohhh, you can't depend on God
You can only depend on one thing
you need a busload of faith to get by, watch, baby

Busload of faith to get by
busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
you need a busload of faith to get by

You can depend on the worst always happening
you can depend on a murderer's drive
You can bet that if he rapes somebody
there'll be no trouble having a child

You can bet that if she aborts it
pro-lifers will attack her with rage
You can depend on the worst always happening
you need a busload of faith to get by, yeah

Busload of faith to get by
busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by, baby
busload of faith to get by

You can't depend on the goodly hearted
the goodly hearted made lamp-shades and soap
You can't depend on the Sacrament
no Father, no Holy Ghost

You can't depend on any churches
unless there's real estate you want to buy
You can't depend on a lot of things
you need a busload of faith to get by, woh

Busload of faith to get by
busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
busload of faith to get by

You can't depend on no miracle
you can't depend on the air
You can't depend on a wise man
you can't find 'em because they're not there

You can depend on cruelty
crudity of thought and sound
You can depend on the worst always happening
you need a busload of faith to get by, ha

Busload of faith to get by
busload of faith to get by
Busload of faith to get by
busload of faith to get by

There Is No Time

This is no time for Celebration
this is no time for Shaking Heads
This is no time for Backslapping
this is no time for Marching Bands

This is no time for Optimism
this is no time for Endless Thought
This is no time for my country Right or Wrong
remember what that brought

There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time

This is no time for Congratulations
this is no time to Turn Your Back
This is no time for Circumlocution
this is no time for Learned Speech

This is no time to Count Your Blessings
this is no time for Private Gain
This is no time to Put Up or Shut Up
it won't no time to come back this way again

There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time

This is no time to Swallow Anger
this is no time to Ignore Hate
This is no time to be Acting Frivolous
because the time is getting late

This is no time for Private Vendettas
this is no time to not know who you are
Self knowledge is a dangerous thing
the freedom of who you are

This is no time to Ignore Warnings
this is no time to Clear the Plate
Let's not be sorry after the fact
and let the past become out fate

There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time

This is no time to turn away and drink
or smoke some vials of crack
This is a time to gather force
and take dead aim and Attack

This is no time for Celebration
this is no time for Saluting Flags
This is no time for Inner Searchings
the future is at head

This is no time for Phony Rhetoric
this is no time for Political Speech
This is a time for Action
because the future's Within Reach

This is the time
this is the time
This is the time
because there is no time

There is no time
there is no time
There is no time
there is no time

Sick Of You

I was up in the morning with the TV blarin'
brush my teeth sittin' watchin' the news
All the beaches were closed the ocean was a Red Sea
but there was no one there to part in two
There was no fresh salad because there's hypos in the cabbage
Staten Island disappeared at noon
And they say the midwest is in great distress
and NASA blew up the moon

The ozone layer has no ozone anymore
and you're gonna leave me for the guy next door
I'm Sick of You
I'm Sick of You

They arrested the Mayor for an illegal favor
sold the Empire State to Japan
And Oliver North married William Secord
and gave birth to a little Teheran
And the Ayatollah bought a nuclear warship
if he dies he wants to go out in style
And there's nothing to eat that don't carry the stink
of some human waste dumped in the Nile

We one thing is certainly true
no one here knows what to do
And I'm Sick of You
I'm Sick of You

The radio said there were 400 dead
in some small town in Arkansas
Some whacked out trucker drove into a nuclear reactor
and killed everybody he saw
Now he's on Morton Downey and he's glowing and shining
doctors say this is a medical advance
They say the bad makes the good and there's something to be learned
in every human experience

Well I know one thing that really is true
this here's a zoo and the keeper ain't you
And I'm sick of it
I'm Sick of You

They ordained the Trumps and then he got the mumps
and died being treated at Mt. Sinal
And my best friend Bill died from a poison pill
some wired doctor prescribed for stress
My arms and legs are shrunk the food all has lumps
they discovered some animal no one's ever seen
It was an inside trader eating a rubber tire
after running over Rudy Giuliani

They say the President's dead but no one can find his head
it's been missing now for weeks
But no one noticed it he had seemed so fit
and I'm Sick of it

I'm Sick of You
I'm so Sick of You, bye, bye, bye

Bye, bye, bye

Vacation...all I ever wanted.

Oh lord, I need to get away.

Not that I've been working particularly hard (have I? Maybe. In different sorts of ways.) Not that I have an excess of cash (I don't).

But I want to get on a jet plane and fly, fly away. I have Reward points, I can catch a plane the the UK and hunker down in a Priceline-bargain hotel and run the streets of London, or EasyJet about to another country, perhaps. Or I can jetblue or ATA out to any major city within 500 miles and hop a train back, with a laptop and a few pairs of clean shorts. I still, God help me, have some credit, although I'd have a severe fiscal hangover when I got back. I'd be productive, I'd be at ease. I'd live off convenience stores and a box of store brand Balance bars and all the Poland Spring half-liters I can carry.

Most importantly, I'd do my best to be out of cell phone range whenever possible.

Some times you've got to go where absolutely nobody knows your name.


Pontiac Moon: Seriously has anyone seen this movie?

Right now an oddly compelling Ted Danson is singing Heaven, I'm in Heaven in an amateur singing contest in a bar.

This movie has been on heavy rotation on HBO. So, I've dipped into it from time to time. And it's so freaking bizarre. Ted Danson plays a nutty-professor type, with an obsessive compulsive child and an agoraphobic wife (Mary Steenburgen, I think they met and fell in love on this film). And I believe the kid and father are taking a road trip to see the Apollo 11 launch even though the mother doesn't want the kid to ever get in a car. And look, there's Cathy Moriarty as a sultry voiced barfly!

Every time I flip on to this movie, something disconnected and strange is happening.

And Ted Danson is strangely, wonderfully attractive, with a strange stilted accent and shaggy brown hair and chiseled cheekbones and an amazing smile. I can't tell if he's a fantastic or a terrible actor. It's that kind of movie.


random miscellaney, or straightforward Web abuse

"You at the barricades listen to this,
Nobody's coming to help you to fight,
You're on your own, you have no friends,
Give up your guns or die!"
- Les Miserables

“Now I know the things I know, and I do the things I do; and if you do not like me so, to hell, my love, with you!”
- Dorothy Parker

“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering, one must not love. But then, one suffers from not loving. Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy, one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness.”
- Woody Allen


Whither John Hughes?

Do you want to be Lloyd Dobler-boombox-desperation loved? Do you want to be goofy-best-friend-Duckie Dale loved? Or the derivative female counterpart, Watts the drummer-chauffer loved? Perhaps awkward-wrong-side-of-the-tracks Blane McDonnagh love? Do you want to be John Bender insulted-with-longing loved? Or secretly-forsaking-all-others-for-my-best-friend's-girl Kevin Dolenz loved? Maybe even quietly-suffering-through-your-transgressions Wendy Beamish loved? Or flat-out-cute girl-gets-hunk-Jake Ryan loved?

Just don't you forget about me.

el sol eterno de la mente inmaculada

For my money, you cannot beat the vocal dubbing accurace of the Kate Winslet and Jim Carrey characters in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" on HBO-L.

Just in case you were wondering. I mean, weren't you?

Claro que si.


The pearl of the day.

“We are lonesome animals. We spend all our life trying to be less lonesome. One of our ancient methods is to tell a story begging the listener to say -- and to feel -- ''Yes, that's the way it is, or at least that's the way I feel it. You're not as alone as you thought.''”

- John Steinbeck

One of the most absorbing, fast, intense reads ever is Steinbeck's "Cannery Row." If you have not read it, I implore you.

The pearl of the day is my favorite hour too.


Tonight I walked some more.

From 107th street, past the seated comedy show barker who spieled me with "Free Comedy" before realizing that he knows me, me being charming and pushy at the same time. Past my old block, past the best falafel hut in the city, Jerusalem, most intensive veggie combo platter, yes even better than my locally beloved Damask on Avenue A, I ate most of my meals there when I lived in my rent controlled room on 104th. There was a Ben and Jerrys replacing the scary coffee shop into which I never, ever entered; the Associated, now a chain drugstore of some stripe. I recalled the Dominican families who stayed out late well into the summer, and beyond, cheerfully playing dominoes outside all the buildings on the block. Tonight was for many reasons a nostalgia walk, reliving the early 90s very very much out of context, many places were gone, many still remains, and a slightly willing victim to hear some of the tales. The great discount clothing store on 96th where I took clients to shop and shopped myself from time to time, where I ran into my model-bartender-fling from med school to their amusement, was now a Washington Mutual just like everything else. The Dive Bar still exists, the dart board and pool table and rest room in awkward juxtaposition, and I had many nonspecific smiles despite things. After 96th street I walked alone.

Blah blah blah

Scorpio (October 23-November 21)
I feel like you're still in a funk, Scorpio, even if you are shaking your head in disagreement. The truth is that you're in limbo and you'll continue to remain there if you don't face a simple fact. The truth is that you are not happy with yourself. Fine. Congratuations. Most people aren't–and those that are, probably shouldn't be. But you need to remember that your shortcomings do not define you. Somewhere along the way, you started to equate your faults with your entire existence. Um, that's just retarded. I mean, look at OJ, George W, the evil-looking Pope. If these people can walk around and live their lives, you should, too.

From girlspoke


We are not amused.

I just phoned my husband to ask him if I should get a boyfriend.

Can I fuck with people or what?


full moon

The sky is almost slate blue, not even black, streaked with clouds reflecting strangely.
imagine the most complex blue eyes into which you've ever gazed.

Tonight I walked.

I set out late tonight in search of stage time. Instead, I walked.

I walked around the West Village, the part you can get lost in. All the windy brick old streets, with the quiet pretty townhouses. I walked to the gay bar at the improbable corner of Eleventh and Fourth Streets, and it was jammed, far too jammed for a Monday, so I left. I walked and smelled the faint chocolate from the new location of Li-Lac. I walked past Bleecker, did a lap for good measure, a lap of indecision. I walked Eighth Avenue and continued on Hudson, past the little concrete park where I'd had some nice times with some nice friends. I saw a pet portrait gallery next to a baby beauty shop. Past the Sazerac House, where I'd improbably watched the World Series alone one year, remembering Randy Johnson on the Diamondbacks. Past the White Horse, nodding sagely, remembering its implications. Feeling lonely, a little, and remembering I had a notebook and a pen, with which loneliness is not possible. Sat at the bar at Cowgirl and hastily ordered catfish, writing a poem while it cooled. Talked to a friend on the phone about alcoholism while sipping a stiff Wild Turkey. No judgments, here. Drafted a script outline. Got the once-over from a hostile butch who drank half a glass of water, picked a fight with the bartender and left. Sketched out a character for a show host. Settled the tab as the eternal process of cleaning the empty bar seemed to finally wind down. Walked some more. Saw some fashionable gay boys picking on each other, loudly. Everyone seemed spirited, yet restrained, like they were scared it was spring, and only wanted to put one toe in the water of life in a new season. Places were closing, cabs were hailed, small groups laughed nervously outside the terrible dirty delis. A thin dark-haired woman sat in the window of a bar on a velvet chair. I let her read my tarot cards. She looked like Gilda Radner; she did not seem to know who Gilda Radner was. She spoke of agony and happiness and choices and positive, strong magical forces. The candles and the incense made me feel strange and good. Behind the red velvet curtain was a bar whose name I don't know; hookah smoke, or perhaps more incense, drifted past as people left. She was Egyptian but spoke with an English accent. I wrote down her name.



More Things I think I'm supposed to like but don't

1. Family Guy
2. Lost
3. Most Coen Brothers films
4. Sketch writing
5. Sweet potatoes

What I need to do, really, is write. Not scribble.

I know job searches can be boring, but...

To email yourself this job (on Hotjobs):

"Separate multiple email addresses with a coma."

Things I wished I liked more

1. The movie "Sideways"
2. Wine
3. Spa treatments
4. Pickles
5. Football (American)


Two quotes found on a Post-it for which I cannot find attribution.

"Approach things with open hands as opposed to closed fists."

"I want to know you...People share things...that's what intimacy is all about."


Analogies, lame

Sometimes it just feels like trying to make up a waterbed.

Group Dirty Mind

Doesn't seem to just exist in improv.

An entire room full of open mikers - granted, a smaller, smarter room than is necessarily the norm - managed to riff an evening's worth of jokes on porn, after the second comic (a friend and funny, funny man) came up with a story about his wife discovering his 'real stash' of dirty goods.

Fascinating. Really fascinating. By the time I got up there (two from the end, 14th in line), the host brought me up with "I KNOW she has some material about porn."

Needless to say, I did not disappoint. You want a porn rant, you got one.

But it was neat to watch. Callback after callback, story after story, riff after riff. Regardless of preparation, pre-existing ideas. Even the baffling woman who got up and said "I'm not doing porno, sorry," and basically read the news without punchlines, she spoke of some new Paris Hilton tape.

Incidentally, a full 25% of the room were lawyers by day. Hmmm.


Big Brother is Watching You (but I'm not watching big brother)

The DVR is a window into one's soul...the deepest darkest corners of the human psyche.

That's precisely why I don't have one.

Nobody needs to know my fondness for TV poker shows, not just that Bravo-come-lately "Celebrity Poker Showdown" but those badly-lit smoky-casino tournaments on the lesser sportschannels like ESPN2 and MSG. (See also the Strongman Competition, Futbol/Football/Soccer, and sundry other odd sports.) Nobody needs to be privy to my futile crushes on hulking, arrogant, gorgeous gay/'gay' men like Santino Rice (Project Runway), Jonathan Antin (Blow Out) and the guy from Open Bar. And I don't need some machine spontaneously taping top-anything lists on channels that used to play music videos but now play top-anything lists, retro-retrospectives, and...Real World Road Rules Retreads.

I won't even program VH1 and MTV into my remote, that's how viciously closeted I am about my guilty late night channel-surfing love for Next, RW/RR and occassionally, if I'm feverish and home, Made (Make me a Waveboarder!)and Real Life (I am a Bulimic/I am a Competitive Eater).

Forgive me, network television, for I have strayed. I can't abide "Lost," and I've never laid eyes on 24. Someday I'll watch Desperate Housewives, maybe.

And "America's Next Top Model" starts this week. My ostensibly non-tv-watching friend guiltily whispered this to me last night on the phone. Who knew he liked skinny babes? Certainly not his thirteen-inch black and white late-model Zenith.


Excerpts from "The Elephant Man"

(his voice is gaining strength)
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not
want. He maketh me to lie down in
green pastures...
(he continues through the following

Treves and Carr Gomm are alone on the landing, speaking quietly.

It was a nice try, Treves, but the
man is so obviously mouthing your

Yes, I'm very sorry to have wasted
your time, sir. I just felt that
I had to do anything I could to
protect him.

I'm sorry too. He simply doesn't
belong here. He's be much happier
somewhere else, where he could be
constantly looked after. Believe
me, Frederick, it's better that it
worked out this way. Good day.

Merrick has come to the end of what Treves taught him to say.
He makes one last, desperate attempt to be heard.

Treves, disheartened, stands on the landing as Carr Gomm starts
down the stairs.

(now full voice)
Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil, for Thou art with
me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they
comfort me...

Treves is staring, open-mouthed, back into the room. Carr
Gomm looks up at him.

What is it, Treves?

Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies,
Thou anointest my head with oil...

I didn't teach him that part!

Treves rushes back into the room, followed by Carr Gomm.

My cup runneth over. Surely goodness
and loving kindness shall
follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of
the Lord forever.

There is a long silence as all three men stare at each other.

How did you,know the rest? I
never taught you the rest of it.

I don't understand.

Tell me, John, how did you know the
rest of the 23rd Psalm?

I... I used to read the Bible every
day. I know it very well. The
Bible, and the Book of Common
Prayer. The 23rd Psalm is very


Why did you let me go on like
that, teaching you what you
already knew? Why didn't you tell
me you could read?

You did not ask me.

I never thought to ask. How can
you ever forgive me?

Oh, no do not say that. You have
been so kind to me. I was afraid
to say too much. People always
want me to be quiet. You wanted
me to speak, but I was afraid.
Forgive me.

We do have a lot to talk about, don't


Can you imaaine what his life has
been like?

Yes, I think I can.

No you can't. You can't begin to
know, no one can.

From Script o Rama


To all the boys, girls, friends, relatives, buddies, pals, and etc's I've been lax about keeping up with...along with your projects, shows, good times, events and stuff.....

I officially suck.

I hope to crawl out of this physiological and what not hole ASAP. I am sure that beating myself up about it will make it go sooo much faster.


Hugs and shit.


don't tell your lawyer the babysitter's dead

If nothing else, the ex will bring me bottles of Vitamin Water, saltines and seltzer when I am projectile-retching for the second day in a row, more or less. So I'm down a bottle of wine and all my leftovers and ice cream are gone, and I had to squawk at him about the floor covered with old newspapers. It's pretty nice of him, really.

I just don't understand why he thinks I'm 'cute' when I'm sick. I always thought that was weird. Who the hell is cute when they're sick? I'm green and stringy-haired and dragging ass in a sports bra and sweats. This is not cute.

Not at all.


You Are Miss Piggy

A total princess and diva, you're totally in charge - even if people don't know it.
You want to be loved, adored, and worshiped. And you won't settle for anything less.
You're going to be a total star, and you won't let any of the "little people" get in your way.
Just remember, piggy, never eat more than you can lift!

Why can't I NOT be sick???