Saturday, January 31
The Notebook
Yesterday I went to a stationary store that I had been eying for a while. It was there that I realized I wanted a small notebook to carry around in my purse.
During the summer, Todd complimented me on how the Showpaper horoscopes had held up comedically since their inception [although they have definitely been suffering recently]. He asked if I kept a notebook with me to write down jokes to save for horoscopes, and I admitted that I did not; if a horoscope idea came to me while I was on the bus, I held it in my brain for when the time came to write them all up.
However, when I visited New York in December, I started a Twitter because I saw how much fun Rocawear and Shaquille O'Neal were having. I would walk around thinking of jokes and then promptly text them to myself.
Upon arriving in Paris, I bought a prepaid phone for communicative purposes but also with hopes that I would be able to Twitter from it. Most unfortunately, the phone is unable to send international texts, and Twitter's phone number is country code +44 [the United Kingdom].
Unable to text myself, I find that I still routinely create 140-character witticisms from everything I see, especially if I'm commuting somewhere alone. I try to remember them, repeating them over to myself a few times, but then I think of a new one and I want to remember that one instead. My brain has been altered by Twitter, prioritizing joke-creation over memory storage, so essentially I needed to change along with it.
I bought this notebook, which is
obviously meant for people hand-writing receipts. The next time you see me [unless you're in the US, in which case you will most DEFINITELY see me Twittering], I will probably be the weirdo constantly jotting down notes and covering them with her hand and making all the other kids at the party feel uncomfortable. Attempt to understand that it is something I need.
During the summer, Todd complimented me on how the Showpaper horoscopes had held up comedically since their inception [although they have definitely been suffering recently]. He asked if I kept a notebook with me to write down jokes to save for horoscopes, and I admitted that I did not; if a horoscope idea came to me while I was on the bus, I held it in my brain for when the time came to write them all up.
However, when I visited New York in December, I started a Twitter because I saw how much fun Rocawear and Shaquille O'Neal were having. I would walk around thinking of jokes and then promptly text them to myself.
Upon arriving in Paris, I bought a prepaid phone for communicative purposes but also with hopes that I would be able to Twitter from it. Most unfortunately, the phone is unable to send international texts, and Twitter's phone number is country code +44 [the United Kingdom].
Unable to text myself, I find that I still routinely create 140-character witticisms from everything I see, especially if I'm commuting somewhere alone. I try to remember them, repeating them over to myself a few times, but then I think of a new one and I want to remember that one instead. My brain has been altered by Twitter, prioritizing joke-creation over memory storage, so essentially I needed to change along with it.
I bought this notebook, which is
obviously meant for people hand-writing receipts. The next time you see me [unless you're in the US, in which case you will most DEFINITELY see me Twittering], I will probably be the weirdo constantly jotting down notes and covering them with her hand and making all the other kids at the party feel uncomfortable. Attempt to understand that it is something I need.
Friday, January 30
Thursday, January 29
Jordy
Jordy was actually a terrible entertainer to have at your gala or corporate event between 1992 and 1996 because his lip syncing was extremely sloppy and often times he'd forget to hold the microphone to his mouth. It would have been totally understandable if you booked him though; afterall, his fast-tempo, "it's tough to be a baby" hit was regularly played in discothèques across Europe, Brazil, Bolivia, Colombia and Japan.
His father, who produced the song and later embezzled his son's earnings, is the only audience member who legitimately enjoys the Jordy performance and attempts to discourage Whitney Houston from whispering to other people.
Can anyone confirm whether or not that's Glenn Close seated near Kenny G?
His father, who produced the song and later embezzled his son's earnings, is the only audience member who legitimately enjoys the Jordy performance and attempts to discourage Whitney Houston from whispering to other people.
Can anyone confirm whether or not that's Glenn Close seated near Kenny G?
Tuesday, January 27
Rock DJ
Isabelle and I will most likely be deejaying at an upcoming Panther show in Paris. I have yet to think of a deejay name, but Colby suggested that I name myself after a 1999 b-film that received little attention in the States but was distributed in France with subtitles; the movie is called, Η Επίθεση του Γιγαντιαίου Μουσακά, which can be roughly translated from the Greek to mean, "Attack of the Giant Moussaka." Although the movie was hailed as the Greeks' long-awaited answer to Plan 9 From Outer Space [or more specifically, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes], I should like to think that AOTGM was made because Panos H. Koutras considers being crushed by a sentient piece of moussaka to be a most delicious death. 
Monday, January 26
New Necklace: Offensive?
Everyone says Paris is ex- pensive but I got this Islamic pendant from a store on my street for 1€50! It has two stationary flags, a tassel, and an unintelligible text on both sides. Today is Lunar New Year's eve, and Lunar New Year is the PC term for Chinese New Year.
Paris has two Chinatowns, but as with Lunar New Year, the two neighborhoods contain populations from Asia that are not exclusively Chinese. Isabelle lives just outside of one of these Asiatowns, so tonight we're having dinner at her house! I'm going to wear this necklace because it looks like a Chinese Dragon costume and most-luckily colored red. It too is based in another part of Asia.
L'As du Falafel
Yesterday we went to Lenny Kravitz's favorite place to get falafel in the world, which isn't very interesting until you consider that it's most probably Zoe Kravitz's favorite falafel spot, too. L'As du Falafel's long lines partnered with their assembly-line expediency in constructing falafel sandwiches and the high rate of English spoken is wholly reminiscent of John Travolta's favorite place to get hot dogs - Pink's. Cited as the institution that made Travolta fat, the Los Angeles landmark stands as the holy grail of hot dog stands featuring a Rosie O'Donnell themed-garden dog. However, unlike L'As du, Pink's vends a product you can make at home in a few minutes; the L'As du Falafel falafels were exceptional, with chili sauce and little triangles of grilled eggplant in every bite. Always trust Lenny Kravitz! He's been around the world!
Friday, January 23
Cock Of The Walk
Today I regretted not buying Colby the boxers printed with the blond lady who pretends to suck the wearer's dick.
Thursday, January 22
Tuesday, January 20
Yes Pecan
I bought this pin on the first day of the Olympics [8/8/08] and wore it to 
Boadrums 2. I was wearing an Egyptian-themed dashiki, so when I put the pin on it, I was the toast of all the party photo- graphers. Today I wore it to celebrate the inauguration of Barack Obama [and the new Ben & Jerry's flavor, Yes Pecan]. It tipped off the supermarket clerks to speak English to me immediately [as most people revert to French until they hear the way I say, "Bon soir."]
Later in the evening, as Colby and I walked from his apartment to mine, two twelve-year-old boys sped past us, mocking, "French is cool! French is cool!" and then pointed at me and said, "Tourist." Then they walked casually and often turned around to look at us.
I yelled, "Discoteque?" back at them, which is not universally funny, but Colby whistled at them as though they were attractive women for the next two blocks. Then he poked in a code to open the gate wall of my apartment complex, and as I said, "Bon soir," to Charlie Chaplin's daughter and her husband, I felt proud to be a Parisian.
Boadrums 2. I was wearing an Egyptian-themed dashiki, so when I put the pin on it, I was the toast of all the party photo- graphers. Today I wore it to celebrate the inauguration of Barack Obama [and the new Ben & Jerry's flavor, Yes Pecan]. It tipped off the supermarket clerks to speak English to me immediately [as most people revert to French until they hear the way I say, "Bon soir."] Later in the evening, as Colby and I walked from his apartment to mine, two twelve-year-old boys sped past us, mocking, "French is cool! French is cool!" and then pointed at me and said, "Tourist." Then they walked casually and often turned around to look at us.
I yelled, "Discoteque?" back at them, which is not universally funny, but Colby whistled at them as though they were attractive women for the next two blocks. Then he poked in a code to open the gate wall of my apartment complex, and as I said, "Bon soir," to Charlie Chaplin's daughter and her husband, I felt proud to be a Parisian.
Sunday, January 18
My Gift Is Mysong
At the opening of the demo for Microsoft Songsmith, you assume it's an internet joke because the fake MPAA rating for the film is "S for Songtastic." The father's overacting and job scenario are weird enough to keep that assumption going, and when Lisa calls Songsmith the "cool new thing," you're wondering why the joke isn't funnier. But then Lisa keeps singing about the product. And then the father actually uses it to write a jingle about glow in the dark towels that almost makes a legitimate pun. At the midpoint, the Indian with both ears pierced brings to light that the video was made by Microsoft, and then sort of uses Songsmith to make a song that sounds reminiscent of Wings' Silly Love Songs, which most middle-of-the-road people admittedly like. He ends up being the video star, and when Microsoft changes the name of the program and reformats the demo style, he gets paid for a second acting job. In the first video it's a little blurry but in the second infomercial they clearly explain, with the help of the recurring Indian, that your vocals' accompaniment will sound the same regardless of what you sing because it's guided by the set tempo but can be affected heavily by a change in Jazz Factor.
Colby and Nick Noto will most likely use Mysong for all of their future homework assignments.
Colby and Nick Noto will most likely use Mysong for all of their future homework assignments.
Thursday, January 8
Wednesday, January 7
Things I'm Bringing To France That I Should Leave At Home
1. My purple suede jacket w fringe: 
Usually I can't bring myself to wear this jacket in places where I won't have trouble making friends.
2. My prom dress:
Mia told me that if I don't wear a tradition- ally fancy dress to every eatery/ museum/ peep show/governmental office that I will be promptly asked to leave. Plus I want to help the French re-live the Gates. They loved the Gates!
3. The chicken bag:
The chicken bag is another item that I've outlawed in real life but today I cleaned the garbage out of it and put it in my suitcase under the belief that, although it's been gaining popularity in America [with help from Theodora Richards], I'll be the only person in Paris holding one. But then I remembered that Pylons is a French company, the Spencer's Gifts of the Rhineland, so on occasions where Parisians clean up after their dogs, they are likely using chicken bags to store the shit. And then when I wear it, I'll be asked to leave.
Usually I can't bring myself to wear this jacket in places where I won't have trouble making friends.
2. My prom dress:
Mia told me that if I don't wear a tradition- ally fancy dress to every eatery/ museum/ peep show/governmental office that I will be promptly asked to leave. Plus I want to help the French re-live the Gates. They loved the Gates!
3. The chicken bag:
The chicken bag is another item that I've outlawed in real life but today I cleaned the garbage out of it and put it in my suitcase under the belief that, although it's been gaining popularity in America [with help from Theodora Richards], I'll be the only person in Paris holding one. But then I remembered that Pylons is a French company, the Spencer's Gifts of the Rhineland, so on occasions where Parisians clean up after their dogs, they are likely using chicken bags to store the shit. And then when I wear it, I'll be asked to leave.
Pencil Collection
The first time I officially lived with Jenny was in East Williamsburg during the summer between junior and senior year. Before then I had slept on the couch in her on-campus living room, listening to her hamster run-out its late-night energy. In the Brooklyn apartment, she took the bigger room because she had a lot more stuff, and I took the room with access to the fire escape so I could sit outside all day. It was under this arrangement that I first met her pencil collection.
Sometime when she was little, inspired either by her mother or the heroine of a children's book, she began collecting pencils from places she visited, on either vacations or school trips. 15 years later, and she had a robust collection. There were pencils that shimmered and pencils that read, "Jenny," and pencils with huge erasers that were shaped after Disney characters or the branches of a palm tree. Her favorite was a pencil topped with a small clear plastic tube, which held multi-colored pebbles; I think it advertised a science museum.
And I envied it; all the things I had tried to collect when I was younger had disappointed me, and I was certainly too old to start a pencil collection and too impressed to copy her. I made repeated comments on a plan to force my [pending] children to collect pencils, but they came out weird at best.
Sometime during those summer months I went on a two-week trip to Los Angeles to visit my family. I'd call Jenny while I was away to check in on the apartment and because I missed seeing her. I went to the Getty museum and wandered around their gift shop and saw that they were selling commemorative pencils, which I never would have noticed before. The pencils were capped by a fake Grecian coin, and had Greek lettering on the sides. I bought one for Jenny to add to her collection.
From then on, I was intent on finding cool pencils and giving them to Jenny. Surely she was too old to add to her own pencil collection, much in the way I was too old to begin my own, but buying small presents for a friend is ageless! I went to the bookstore Whacko and bought a tan pencil whose large, red eraser made the whole pencil look like a giant match stick. I drove down Hollywood Blvd with my family and made them pull over so I could run into a tourist trap, now confident that places had visors and shotglasses also sold commemorative pencils, and from there I emerged with a pencil featuring a miniature clapper board on one end.
This trip - or extended stay in Los Angeles - I bought Jenny a pencil in the shape and size of a cigarette. The end that you can't sharpen is colored like a filter. Holding it horizontally, one side reads, NO SMOKING, as to spark it up would be to inhale lead; on the other is printed, BE GOODYJAPAN. I wanted to write about it before I gave it to her because it looks like a one-hitter, and I didn't want her to get too excited when she saw it, and then be let down.
Sometime when she was little, inspired either by her mother or the heroine of a children's book, she began collecting pencils from places she visited, on either vacations or school trips. 15 years later, and she had a robust collection. There were pencils that shimmered and pencils that read, "Jenny," and pencils with huge erasers that were shaped after Disney characters or the branches of a palm tree. Her favorite was a pencil topped with a small clear plastic tube, which held multi-colored pebbles; I think it advertised a science museum.
And I envied it; all the things I had tried to collect when I was younger had disappointed me, and I was certainly too old to start a pencil collection and too impressed to copy her. I made repeated comments on a plan to force my [pending] children to collect pencils, but they came out weird at best.
Sometime during those summer months I went on a two-week trip to Los Angeles to visit my family. I'd call Jenny while I was away to check in on the apartment and because I missed seeing her. I went to the Getty museum and wandered around their gift shop and saw that they were selling commemorative pencils, which I never would have noticed before. The pencils were capped by a fake Grecian coin, and had Greek lettering on the sides. I bought one for Jenny to add to her collection.
From then on, I was intent on finding cool pencils and giving them to Jenny. Surely she was too old to add to her own pencil collection, much in the way I was too old to begin my own, but buying small presents for a friend is ageless! I went to the bookstore Whacko and bought a tan pencil whose large, red eraser made the whole pencil look like a giant match stick. I drove down Hollywood Blvd with my family and made them pull over so I could run into a tourist trap, now confident that places had visors and shotglasses also sold commemorative pencils, and from there I emerged with a pencil featuring a miniature clapper board on one end.
This trip - or extended stay in Los Angeles - I bought Jenny a pencil in the shape and size of a cigarette. The end that you can't sharpen is colored like a filter. Holding it horizontally, one side reads, NO SMOKING, as to spark it up would be to inhale lead; on the other is printed, BE GOODYJAPAN. I wanted to write about it before I gave it to her because it looks like a one-hitter, and I didn't want her to get too excited when she saw it, and then be let down.
Tuesday, January 6
New Plastic Necklace
Whenever I enter a flea market I'm instantly drawn to large emblems that are or could easily be attached to a chain. Unfortunately, these things do not come cheaply. The most attractive necklace charm would be the hood ornament of a car, especially from an obviously old model; they can rarely be found for under $70, mostly because someone had to risk jail time by ripping it off a car and then welded it onto something with a hook. Once something campy becomes expensive, it's value drops down to zero.Luckily, I found this plastic substitute. By being unassuming and having little do with the 90's street wear revival, which certainly included medallions on over-sized metal chains and became passé soon after becoming popular, this necklace was instantly well-worth $1.
NOMTOC, or the New Orleans Most Talked Of Club, whose Coat of Arms I now wear feature a jug of alcohol and two candy canes, was started in 1951 and formed initially as a carnival organization. Entrance into New Orleans' most talked of club requires yearly dues to paid to fund the floats they build for their February parade. It's similar to the Fat Tuesday celebration that New Orleans is thought of for, except that it's rich in culture and not horrifically trashy. Unlike Macy*s Thanksgiving Day parade, which shows off unsightly advertisements on wheels, the floats in NOMTOC's parades are colorfully painted, creatively inspired, and covered in feathers. In 1970, they started having yearly kings & queens of the social club, who were then featured atop the floats. The most recent list of NOMTOC Royalty shows that 12 of the former kings have died since being crowned, but all of the past reigning queens are still alive.
Monday, January 5
Give Back, Give Pack
It's not really fair when my dad's girlfriend Mia and I buy presents for each other. Aside from Mia inherently being a better gift-giver, she always goes to rural Pennsylvania right before Christmas to clean up, and brings me piles of insane vintage and original-American-inspired shit, accumulated for under little-more than the wave of a ten dollar bill. She effortlessly picked up these two fanniepacks in Lewistown, PA and they were instantly two of the best ones I own.
New Dress: Gr8 Pumpkin
According to its tag, this dress was originally priced at $25, 
even though it was obviously cut from a holiday bedspread. Because it's currently considered off-season for Halloween-themed dresses, it was marked down to $5.99, but in the reality of people who don't teach kindergarten, the off-season is the only time 
you can wear items printed with Jack-O-Lanterns. Three years ago, I was a kindergarten teacher for Halloween, so I bought a Halloween sweater-turtleneck set from Kmart. I probably donated the turtleneck on Nov. 1st but sometimes I still wear the sweater, usually in the summer, over an orange bra.
Sunday, January 4
Dog Country
When I was first flew to Los Angeles in September, I was wearing Bean boots and a middle aged man in line to board the plane started talking to me about hunting. He had recently been to Maine, which I could relate to, but couldn't identify what area he had been in or name one town he'd seen.
He did know a bit about West Hollywood, though: "Gee, there's like, a dog for every citizen of West Hollywood!"
Owen has been staying with me for the past week, and throughout that time we have been aggressively coo-ing at dogs we've seen on the street. My favorite dogs to see on the street are Greyhounds [discouraging Italian Greyhounds] and Owen's favorite are Doxins [especially the baby weiner dogs]. Adopting a majestic animal that was needlessly bred for competition and then, with age, considered useless, is noble and wonderful; buying a designer version of the needy breed is beastly. Yesterday, we went on a hike to Runyon Canyon and saw a group of middle-aged friends who each had their own Italian Greyhound. Larger breeds would run up to the miniature dainty dogs and lick their genitalia, sometimes two at a time, which looked a lot more like rape than communication. This image also helped turn me off to Italian Greyhounds.
Today, Owen's love for Doxins was heated when we went shopping at the Fairfax High School. There was a weiner dog in a wheelchair, it's two hind legs held elevated in a brace and replaced by wheels.
"I can't tell if it's heart-breaking or heart-warming!" He thought for a moment. "Heart-warming!"
As luck would have it, within minutes, Owen found a cardigan covered in Doxins, it's buttons shaped like plastic hot dogs. Quick examination of the sweater's tag showed that it had originally sold exclusively by QVC.
He did know a bit about West Hollywood, though: "Gee, there's like, a dog for every citizen of West Hollywood!"
Owen has been staying with me for the past week, and throughout that time we have been aggressively coo-ing at dogs we've seen on the street. My favorite dogs to see on the street are Greyhounds [discouraging Italian Greyhounds] and Owen's favorite are Doxins [especially the baby weiner dogs]. Adopting a majestic animal that was needlessly bred for competition and then, with age, considered useless, is noble and wonderful; buying a designer version of the needy breed is beastly. Yesterday, we went on a hike to Runyon Canyon and saw a group of middle-aged friends who each had their own Italian Greyhound. Larger breeds would run up to the miniature dainty dogs and lick their genitalia, sometimes two at a time, which looked a lot more like rape than communication. This image also helped turn me off to Italian Greyhounds.
Today, Owen's love for Doxins was heated when we went shopping at the Fairfax High School. There was a weiner dog in a wheelchair, it's two hind legs held elevated in a brace and replaced by wheels.
"I can't tell if it's heart-breaking or heart-warming!" He thought for a moment. "Heart-warming!"
As luck would have it, within minutes, Owen found a cardigan covered in Doxins, it's buttons shaped like plastic hot dogs. Quick examination of the sweater's tag showed that it had originally sold exclusively by QVC.
Friday, January 2
My 13's New Year's Resolution
I guess the Los Angeles TV channel "My 13"'s New Year's Resolution was to suck because they reformatted the 11pm news show to actually just broadcast Fox 11's news. The original show was my evening tradition, with the two anchors - the slut and the gay [who are actually married!] - the tacky news stories [grandfather kidnaps own grandson for meth-funding ransom and leaves boy in Vegas], and Mark Thompson, the dancing weather man who loves current hip hop but doesn't know where the beat is at.
The majority of the stories are still, Two Dead After Mistaken-Identity Drive-by In East LA, but the newsroom set is now modeled after CNN's, or some other station that recognizes world-wide crisis. The new newscasters are ugly but show 0 cleavage to make up for it. Mark Thompson still dances but he is forced to first explain weather trends for at least 50 seconds.
I'm not really sure what made this video backward.
The majority of the stories are still, Two Dead After Mistaken-Identity Drive-by In East LA, but the newsroom set is now modeled after CNN's, or some other station that recognizes world-wide crisis. The new newscasters are ugly but show 0 cleavage to make up for it. Mark Thompson still dances but he is forced to first explain weather trends for at least 50 seconds.
I'm not really sure what made this video backward.
Thursday, January 1
Necklaces With A Lot Of Garbage On Them
Sometimes I build up necklaces the way the occasional traveler will stuff their key ring. It usually starts out with an Israeli fish on a long chain; the little golden mouth open as though I had baited it by leaning over a decorative lake. Then I'll add a second Israeli fish because, hey, what's $10. 
Then I'll find a lucky rabbit's foot in my drawer from the time I bought a pack-o'-ten on eBay. I've been told they're actually cat feet, and I must admit that they do smell an awful bit like our felines' fur [with formaldehyde]. From there the necklaces take off. Mia will give me a dream catcher from a Native American gift shop and I'll hang it on my necklace from the plastic loop that held its price tag. Someone loses the black rubber band of their inexpensive wristwatch or one of their gold, bamboo-textured hoop earrings, and within the hour it's close to my heart. I avoid using actual key ornaments, like leather coin pouches from Barbados or a big plastic heart that reads DAD because of their weight. Because weight [and being unconsciously tugged on, and being left on when I fall asleep and have fever dreams] will eventually break the chain and all of the junk will fall on the floor. And I'll bend over, pick up the essential charms, and let the rest get swept up after everyone goes home.
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