MCs Look Me In The Face And Their Eyes Get Weak.

Hats off to our Angela, who acted as cruise director for Brooklyn Friendships Dance Party Staurday nite. I highly recommend you hightail it to Black Betty for EPMD, Audio Two, Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam With Full Force, and some Biggie Smalls. I could not have been happier to prance my drunk ass all about the place swilling the Champagne of Beers out of the bottle (HEAVEN) while they played "A Rollerskating Jam Named 'Saturdays'". Too good to be true- and yet, it was. IT WAS!!!

Later we staggered to Kellog's, then left and staggered over to Bedford for spinach rolls, lasagna pizza, and lots of angry striped tight entitlement. And who should we see but the fantastic Desiree Burch, host of SMUT! and all around sassafrass. She came into the pizza place and screamed, "THE BUS IS COMING!!!" then ran out. What. Has to be my favorite cameo to date. I fucking love Brooklyn.

Rent Party.

Clockwise from the top: John Francis smokes Camels; Jesse & Vince are about to be lured to Welcome to the Johnson's by promises of NYU trim; Aubrey gets a time out; Brandy & Sara scream it out; Prodicer and all around champ Jon Friedman; O'Donnell can't keep his hands off the merch and Stokes is horrified about it.




The Rent Party benefit for Peter & Kim was a hoot and a holler. I was hammered on watery beer by 8 pm, and that is always a good thing. Jon Friedman is always a delight to behold, and there were stellar performances from the ever-charming Lang Fisher, Cassidy Henehan, and Peter Kassonove himself. Love to Kukoda, Bailey-Yavonditte and Stokes for coming out to show love & support. Later, the world famous John F. O'Donnell dropped by and with him brought a cavalcade of hangout fun. There were many trips to the bathroom to drink illegitimately, because I am classless and broke. I forced Aubrey to discuss Mr. Show loudly directly following a comedy show- what a goddamned nerd I am. Then we headed off to Welcome to the Johnson's and closed it down. So many cans of PBR. So, so many cans.

My Favorite Philosopher, You Ask? Remy Ma.

Now shorty tryina push up on me like a wonderbra,
Listen when I speak I wouldn't want you to take it wrong,
Now, number one, I don't need you,
Gettin' with you, only see you when I see you when I see you,
Lesson Two, you can never play me, (whys that why's that)
Cuz I'm such a fuckin' lady,
Three its all about me I'ont wanna talk about it
if you love to hear it, here it go I wrote a song about it.

See I look to good to be fuckin' you
And I look too good to be lovin' you,
You know I look way too good to be stuck with you.

I'm conceited, I got a reason.

See, I look too good to be gettin' wit,
And I look too good to be havin' kids,
Cuz you know, I look way too good to be in the crib.

I'm conceited, I got a reason.

Like Being Punched In The Face.

thanks to PostSecret.com

But, Plug!

The sad thing is...I just laughed at my own queer pun. Barber, yuck.

OK this is the last time I trot out the fucking prom dress photos. That shit is stale. But this one was comissioned by Giulia Rozzi and Abby Gross, who coincidentally had her blog hacked by some Al-Quada operative, no joke. They asked the question: "Brandy & Sara; what did they do before they had each other?" This photo sums it up. (Cameo by the handsome Kurt Braunholer). And this, my main mans, is how we will feel if you do not come out to the show tonight!!!!

RENT PARTY!
FRIDAY, APRIL 28th, 2006 7:30 PM

Tonight, Jon Friedman (The Rejection Show, Ritalin Readings, Tremendous Rabbit Productions) invites friends and comedians (and in some cases both) to perform for a good cause. RENT PARTY will benefit comedian Peter Kassanove and his finacee Kim Ritter, who were victims of a recent burglary. Kim's engagement ring was stolen! If that doesn't make you want to come out and show support, then I promise if you do attend, I will sit on your lap & gyrate (if you are 5'4" or smaller this is not recommended dueto OSHA regulations).

Jon Friedman hosts...THE RENT PARTY!
A Benefit for Peter Kassanove & Kim Ritter

featuring readings & performances from:

NOLA's Own Cassidy Henehan (The $1 Room)
Rich Zeroth (Swollen Head)
Lindsay Robertson (Ritalin Readings)
Jessica Coen (editrix of Gawker.com)
Brandy & Sara (Galapagos, The P.I.T.)
Lang Fisher (The Wiener Philharmonic)
Agent Murray Lundquist and his newest act, Caleb Hodgekiss (Brad Steuernagel & the fantastic Mike Burns, The $1 Room)
Peter Kassnove (comedian and burglary victim)

Friday April 28th, 2006
Mo Pitkin's House of Satisfaction
34 Ave A
7:30 pm
$10

A Grave Error In [Panty] Judgement.

Sweet was the bestest. Although I spazzed out in all the hustle and bustle of re-hauling out my silly prom dress for another run, and in so doing, forgot my contacts, which sucked a d because I couldn't very well wear my glasses with my glasses with the whole look I was going for. I'd have looked like an unholy cross between Gilda Radner as Lisa Loopner & Lisa Loeb. Yikes. So the whole night, I was squinting around the bar with my rooster-ed up bangs and cat eye liner. I managed to ignore my friend Nathan for a good while- thankfully, he came up and said hello. Trying to explain that you don't have your contacts and can't really wear your glasses and are basically blind without them unless someone is a foot away sounds so, so lame. That's actually how I knew I had to get glasses my freshman year of college- I kept blowing past people at school and then getting angry phone calls about it. That and the fact that I couldn't even read the exit signs in the 405 or the 5 and tended to end up in Compton a lot. I digress. He was gracious, and I was somewhat drunk. Perhaps this aided and abetted the blurriness.

Anyway, what a tremendously fun show. Sara ended up winning the prom comptetiton- I was out early, because I took one for the team. You had to be there. There was karaoke, a dance off, and hard boiled eggs. All good things. Anne Carr did a character that made me cry because I was laughing so hard as the Twinkeis being spat out, and Todd Barry was amazing as always. Tom Shillue told a kind of pedophile prom date story ( he was in his 20s she was still in HS), but he's so charming you can't help but want to hug him no matter what. I am a huge fan of anyone who puts a Bionic Woman/Man reference into a set- he has my heart. Plus, the footage from The World's Best Prom was so creepy and fascinating- a must see. And Seth's Mom did a dance, which really, if you missed, you should be ashamed of yourself. Later there was dancing and it was awsss. I accused Sara of requesting Toto instead of Fascination by the Human League, but DJ David Wain played both so it was OK. Everybody wins. Angela grabbed my boobs, Anne hemmed her own prom dress onstage, and there was a lot of high kicking. It was a fuckload better than my actual prom, which ended with perfunctory sex with my long-time boyfriend (who did not dance once that entire night) and me being in bed by midnight, stone cold Steve Austin sober. I didn't drink back then. How very sad.

















I was going for punky-prom-debutante, but instead it turned into "Babette The French Whore".
















Sara is interviewed by Kira, Seth's Mom.
















Gregory, Ang, and Sara, who has just belched atrociously.
















Anne & Sara in a prom altercation.
















Ms. Anya, Ms. Marianne, Allocco and Barber, whose bangs are no longer in the Rooster despite copious amounts of hairspray. Dancing all raw to "Young Turks" by Rod Stewart does that to hair.

Last Minute Plug- SWEET Tonight!

Sponsored by the producers of the new documentary The World's Best Prom, tonight's SWEET will also feature a cameo appearacne by myself and my comedy muse, Sara Allocco. We shall be competing to win a prom date with the fiesty scamp Seth Herzog. And you should be there to cheer one of us on. There will be bleeding and not from the vags this time, butt-lick. Plus you could totally look at David Wain and stuff. If you have any taste and appreciate The State, is all. WHATEVER, JUST DROP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Seth Herzog hosts
SWEET @ The Slipper Room
167 Orchard St. @ Stanton
8:30 pm $5
plus, we two in the prom attire below (again this week- can it, already)

Because it is bitter, and because it is my ass.

Who, in order to cannily title her lame-ass blog, likes to bastardize famous literary passages in the style of a 10 year old naughty ADD boy named Duncan who stole Mommy's Sharpie from her crafting basket and defaced a nicely bound, tasteful volume of Joyce Carol Oates? That would be me.

I've designed myself a new bauble based on the fact that, last night as I was riding home on the subway I realized my heart is much like a grenade. So now I want a real grenade pin, miniaturized, which I will have gold-dipped in order to fashion a necklace out of. I'd love to have a small gold heart hung directly in the middle.

Gentleman caller(s)? Do make it so.

All Those Rumors She Hear About Were True.

So much fun helping out Mister Kukoda. Great comics all around-special shout outs to Jessie Delfino's magical pussy, Trophy Dad's delightful videos (the commerical about a razor made specially for alcoholics was top notch), and Kurt & Kristen, hosts of HOT TUB at the PIT. Plus, sister got her hair did. All in all, an enchanted evening.

Tonight, Tonight, Tonight Like Genesis And Shit.

Take one of each of these things...
Throw in a little of this little rapscallion...
Add in a dash of gaudy glamour...
And you've got the place to be tonight. Come out and support Jack Kukoda (featured abve making untoward sexually harassing comments at me as I sip white wine at dinner) who has put together an outstanding benefit with lots of super comics featuring a kick ass raffle (with such delights as dinner for 2 at David Burke & Donatella, Coach handbags, a Virgin-Atlantic CD Grab Bag, Comedy Central Schwag, and more) which will be overseen by Butch & Sundance themselves, Brandy & Sara (featured being delightfully myopic). We will allbe attired ever so formally. And by formally I mean, sans class, taste or regard for basic human decency. Do attend, shan't you?

ALL PROCEEDS TO GO TO THE JAMES F. KEPPEL FOUNDATION. For mor information, or to make a donation, please click here.

Are You Ready To Get Murdered?!

Somebody went on a shoe shopping spree last Thursday and blew all their waitressing money like a buffoon. These are all the delightful pairs I snapped up in my compulsive fit and it was magic. There's another pair for which no photo could be gleaned, a leopard set with peep-toes and a bow and they are slingback 1940's platform style. Because I need to be taller, clearly.

Anyway I figured since my feet were so sore after scampering around doing everyone's fucking bidding, fetching sides of mayo and milkshakes and hot dogs with extra red onions while being drenched in grease-scent, that I deserved a fancy pair of shoes to wear when I went out and glammed it up. So I got 5. Makes sense, right? I have excellent decision-making skills. Yes, yes I do.

I wore one of these pairs of shoes- the green ones- on Saturday night, in a torrential rainstorm no less. They seemed comfortable at the time. Then I got drunk out of my mind, drank shots of Maker's, and stomped around half of Chelsea and later Brooklyn like an ass. I actually have BRUISES on the soles of my feet and was hobbling about the apartment Sunday. That's what you get for being vain & dressing up like a candy-ass. I should have just worn my Pumas.

MORTIFIED! NYC This Saturday & Sunday.

Hey all- I am not going to be in this installment, but you should go if you haven't because this is the one year anniversary of the show's debut here and it's still one of the most inspiring, crazy and creepy night in town. Not to be missed, seriously.

MORTIFIED! NYC
Saturday April 22nd & Sunday April 23rd, 2006
The Tank Theater
(I am too lazy to put all the details in now- so check out: www. getmortified.com for those)


I should put up some sort of graphic but I am distracted and may or may not edit this later, so check back for one, I mean if that's your type of thing and all. Or, not.

"That's her art. Her art, is like, hair styles."*

When things were going badly a month or two ago, I purchased myself a piece of jewelry I love. It's a gold necklace with a perfect replica of a door key, but in miniature. I love the fact that it's something fancy & shiny but also, something so mundane and ordinary. I wear it every day. Somehow it has become this icon of me. I get asked about it a lot, and depending on my mood, the answer changes. Last night I was slammed with a bunch of tables full of annoying (versus fun) drunks and working the last few hours of what was a two day period spent putting in 8 hour office days and picking up 2 8 hour wait shifts at night with roughtly 7 hours of sleep in between. I was not to be easily amused. Please enjoy the following. I did.

Some drunk post-frat douche nozzle: So...(chuckles in a way that surely charms the 20 year olds he still manages to pull quim from if he gets to Shooterz! at the right time after they've had one too many Stoli Orange & gingers) What's that a key to?

Me, smiling pleasantly, narrowing eyes ever so slightlly and leaning close to him: My charcoal-black, minscule heart.

Some drunk post-frat douche nozzle: (stunned silence)

Me: Would you like to hear about the specials?


*co-worker, said straight-faced to another co-worker while I choked on pretzel stix, sniggering.

...But The Karaoke Ban On "Love Hurts" Is Still In Full Effect.

Popcorn, I love you. I am crying thinking about how very much. You were by my side thru one of the most traumatic breakups of my adult life, and you never once blinked when I called you crying at 2 am. You always had time to come out carousing with me and were instantly on my side thru all the resulting drunk boy drama that ensued back then. I wouldn't have made it through 2005 without you, and I can't imagine how it's going to be without you. You became such a part of my life so effortlessly, and honestly cannot thank you enough for your selfless, compassionate support. Jesus christ, you're my life partner! I just had to testify to the fucking inter wide web that that child's my heart. Ms. Lady Anne, I love you and I support you following your heart. And now I hate Texas even more than I did before, if that's possible. Word is bond.

WHITE CASTLE TRAGEDY: A NEW HOPE...

As all 2 of you who read this blog (meaning my Mom and a chronic masturbator in Malaysia from what I ascertained via SiteMeter) may recall, last week I had my ink-black charcoal heart broken when I walked over to where a White Castle used to be and was no more. I called Directory Assistance and asked for White Castles in Manhattan, and was told there were no listings. And then, I sat on a hot dog vendor's milk crate seat and cried. Ok, not really, but I considered it for dramatic effect but ultimately decided against it lest it break and I fall on my fat ass in the gutter on 32nd and 5th to the amusement of the many, many German toursits thronged there. I try only to fall in the gutter after being kicked out of tiki bars in the East Village because I swiped an entire Scorpion Bowl off someone else's table and/or hurled a Red Strip at someone's head. CLASS ACT LIKE KID N PLAY, YA'LL!!!!

Anyway, crisis averted. One of my lunchtime strolls revealed that not only is there a White Castle in Manhattan alright, but that it is in the same area just on the West Side. And someone plans on going there and getting a single White Castle jalepeno cheeseburger which she will eat half of and then feel sick & full and throw out the remainder of. I may not be able to control my excessive drinking or my feelings of crushing inadequacy, but at least I can make sure I'm skinny enough to get dudes to offer to open doors for me and try to buy me beers and the like. I'm the boss of applesauce!

$ex. Ca$h. Chao$.

I Enjoy Being A Gaunt.

Pictures are for funs and for friendships. Hip hip hoo-rah to that.

I went to a fabulous birthday party for Ms. Carla Rhodes, who is my red-headed doppelganger (if you are John F. O'Donnell, click HERE to learn what this big boy word means). It was full of stuffed birds, tambourines, fashion stylings, BBC programming gems, daisies, Morcheeba, late night car rides over the Brooklyn Bridge, and booze. All good things. I haven't had that much fun at a party in a while. Plus I got to hang out with Canadian sensation Aubrey Tennant. What a dreamboat. Carla dressed him up all pretty like and I think he looks like much more attractive version of Rick Ocasek, he of the Cars, but not of the New Cars.

Sunday I was loathe to leave Brooklyn, although I wished I could get my shit together and do so. Instead I kept it 718 (OK seriousl ynow someone punch me in the fucking face for that one, I'm begging for it) and took neighborhood snaps and had a meeting of the Brooklyn Lonelyhearts Club, sans Ang.

I'm going through a wierd phase where I keep touching my own boobs a lot. Can't tell you why, just keep doing it. Thought I'd point it out in case you guys saw me do it and thought I wasn't aware of what I was up to.

I think I need a catchphrase. I thought of a brilliant one today on the way the the powder room, but was distracted by a very faulty tampon sitch and, poof, lost my newly minted genius statement. I'll get to work on it, though. Please feel free to contribute if you have some ideas. Extra points for use of offensive yet slightly arcane language.

I still like eating. I just take less bites. I am on the half of a half diet.