Monday, August 28, 2006
Get this video and more at MySpace.com
I think my heart may explode from the preciousness of this. I mean...I'm hateful, spiteful and cruel, it's true. But this, this melts even my coal black heart, which is said to be fortified with an outer cage of iced steel.
Here's a short clip from one of the first episodes of Canada's celebrated comedy, "Trailer Park Boys". It's a fave of mine, they used to show it on BBC America a while back, but not anymore. The Canadian DVDs do work in our region and recently I've noticed that you can get them from Amazon (that wasn't the case a while back). It's rough and a bit all over the place, not the best acting, but it has tis scruffy sort of heart I really find endearing. I hear the later seasons are less like that, and to be honest I've yet to see anything past the first two. I need to get my paws on the Season 1-5 box set, I think. Bubbles is, hands down, the most engaging character I've seen in ages.
Here's the the whole first ever episode- it's long so if you don't give a shit about your job, it's primo work viewing. Seriously, I love shows where the focus is on the love between friends, not on stupid romantic love pursuits. It's so rare and it's so true and engaging to me.
Check it out, and enjoy the accents.
It's a fantastic tale of ill-fated hi-jinx at a hospital bulit on the mouth of hell, staffed by a crack team led by a be-spectacled anti-hero. This, then, is Garth Marenghi's Darkplace.
I loved him as Simon in The Office, and I love Matthew Holness even more after seeing this delightful romp of sci-fi dedicated to lampooning the pompous. The self-obsessed jackass that is Garth Marenghi will remind you of that idiot that wants to go on and on about the nature of satire and its implications on modern commedia del'arte while you're just trying to have a drink, a self-important, shameless diatribe in which they encourage you to talk, oh I don't know, maybe about Derek & Clive, and then shoot you down for even trying to engage with them. Garth portrays with aplomb the kind of dude who laughs at all your jokes if he thinks you're pretty & he's dating you, but only because he wants a hummer later. Ladies, we all know the type.
Check it out- it's playing on Sci Fi right now at some god-awful time, so hook up that there DVR. Also at that link- you can watch the first episode over the web, which may make you shit milk out your snot holes. And if you're British, feel free to drop me a line as I am shamelessly trolling for that handy dandy passport of which I spoke. Ta!
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Barring my potential plagarism lawsuit, you should really, REALLY watch this show. She's a great lady, that funny Ms. Kightlinger. The episode I watched tonight made me happy. I like awkward, it makes me laugh in all its many instances. On TV and of course, in life. If it didn't, I'd have swallowed all of the Vicoden in my dwindling collection at once long ago. Instead of one a a time, always before a night of heavy, heavy drinking.
[*Insert "Brandy Barber" and I think you'll see a striking similarity]
But today I saw this postcard on Postsecret and it made me feel odd. Is it bad to admit that I'll never 100% trust someone- romantically or even as a friend anymore? Am I punishing myself for bad things that have happened to me throughout my life in dealings with other people? I don't know the answer. I know that I'm still angry at myself for letting people take advantage of me in the past, but at the time, I didn't know it. Of course, after the fact, whenever I've mentioned to a friend something along the lines of, "Yeah, he was such a jerk and this one time, he said and /or did [INSERT SLIGHT FROM EX HERE]", they chime in with "But you can't beat yourself up for caring for someone else." Fine and good- but didn't I just kind of get beat up? Didn't someone just make me emotionally bite the fucking curb, as they say?
I guess I'd rather not be beat up by someone's inhernet cruelty anymore, and maybe by prefacing all interactions with that, I'm saving myself the extra step. By assuming you're going to cheat on me, it's that much easier when you sleep with your roommate in Mexico on that day trip and I find out months later. By being certain you're not putting in your daily phone call because you're fucking someone who's visiting from out of town, I save myself the agony of playing Jessica Fletcher and making the mystery complete by the end of the episode. By assuming you're unable & unwilling to commit, it makes it that much easier to fathom why you asked me, nay, INSISTED I move in with you and then, when I begin to make motions to do so, you shit your knickers. All of these are true, but you knew that, I imagine. And all of them nearly killed me. But now I think I harvested a little precious gemstone out of the pile of turds that I was presented in these unfortunate situations.
I like streamlining the steps of what I now expect to be inevitable disappointment, at least a bit. In a way, it almost makes it easier to enjoy and appreciate the good aspects of relationships- because you recognize the artifice that they're predicated on and choose to accept it for what it is. I think that's a pretty smart way to do business, if I do say so myself. And hey- a lot less screaming from me, so everyone wins!
And when I say "us", I mean "girls". Because men don't have to worry about this type of thing. I could tell you why that sucks, and I could break it down for you as to why it's that way and I'd be more than happy to explain my insights onto how that could change. But sometimes, it all boils down to not wanting to live every second of your life in fear. And in order to do so, I just keep hoping.
I hope she's resting in peace. I really do.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
1) All sweater vest facts, all the time.
2) 72% increase in the usage of the term "BOO YA!"
3) EXXXclusive nude pics of my cat, Nigel
4) overall sense of self-important ennui to be replaced with chirpy tone reminscent of the bubbly Kelly Ripa (whom I apologize for referring to as having a voice similar to "a chipmunk being fingerbanged" in a December 2005 phone conversation when I had mild food poisoning)
5) three words: Hangnail. Photo. Journal.
But never you fear: I will continue to maintain a personal blog chock full of colorful photos and wacky narrations of my Quixotan struggle to make a complete jackass of myself as frequently as humanly possible. This will be private (to what I'm sure will be the great dismay of my single reader, currently incarcerated at San Quinton for public masturbation at the Nelson accoustic reunion concert at the Del Mar Fairgrounds in postcard-perfect Del Mar, San Diego). When this becomes the case, I'll invite those of you who care to watch the nimrod parade to do so. The title of this blog may is TBD, but for the meantime it's "TOP SECRET! KEEP OUT!!! FOR REALS I MEAN IT! YOU KNOW I CAN'T HEAR YOU UNLESS YOU KNOCK, CURTIS!!!"
The switchover will be gradual, but I guess I just felt like discussing it in order to force myself to honor my own delcaration. Because you know someone likes to make sweeping statements, and then, sees a shiny trinket and scampers off down the branch to grab, grab at it! Grab!!!
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Click on the party invite! Be there tonight for the fun! Come and wish Sara well on her journey away from the corporate world!
The Kissing Booth presents
Take This Job and SHOVE IT!
7 pm - party begins
8 pm - show begins
The D Lounge
101 East 15th Street at Union Square East, Basement Level
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Otto's Shrunken Head
14th Street & Ave B
Friday, August 18, 2006
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Well...not for nothing. But, maybe a certain someone should have waited his TURN in the line at Baskin-Robbins when we were TRYING to buy Sara her Dora The Explorer cake (that's why they give out those numbered tickets, I mean, duh). But SOMEONE, someone who was wearing an XXL American Flag T-Shirt tucked into his red sweatpants up to his nipples and velcro shoes, HAD TO go first for his scoop of Daquiri Ice on a sugar cone.
No one cuts in front of Brandy & Sara in line for ice cream. And I mean...NO ONE.
If you've got other plans on Saturday, watch your back.
Someone once told me that I Xanadu couldn't be my favorite movie as it was purely based on nostalgia, and that when I was little it made sense but as an adult it was foolish.
You know what? Get bent. When I found this on You Tube, it made me get so fucking excited, tears came to my eyes. Who said I had to pick Wild Starwberries or Seven Samurai? This brings me joy, I love to look at it, and I will never ever stop wanting to be in it. I will always wish it was me in all those costumes, with those ribbons in my hair, on those roller skates, singing with Jeff Lynne and ELO backing me up.
I love you, Xanadu. Now and forever. And anyone who doesn't get it is off the list. End of story.
Monday, August 14, 2006
Sorry Anne! They took what I had here, which was a code for the "shit on the marble stairs incident" video from VH1's Flavor of Love 2 off YouTube due to copyright infringement. To all ya'll who missed it, I feel sorry for you. "Somethin", indeed.
Instead, enjoy its replacement. Cute enough to choke a moose.
I love music so much, and sometimes I forget just how much of a hold it can have over me. This weekend was dictated by wonderful music discoveries, re-awakenings, and moments of pure joy.
On Friday after seeing Kimmy Gatewood's The Breakup Show at the PIT, I retired to the awful Triple Crown. But the weather was so amazing, and the large group we were with sat outside on the patio and enjoyed it while listening to the putrid sounds coming from the subpar jukebox. That is, until "The Logical Song" by Supertramp came on, and I almost knocked over my High Life due to punching my fist into the air and yanking it back down in total delight, exclaiming, "I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG!!!" Made an already lovely night of visits with friends that much more lovely. That, and the turd stories Altman and I were exchanging, thereby greatly deterring the Irish barkeep from his coke-fuled pick up attempts.
Saturday, I was waiting tables and noted during a lull that a crate of records had been dumped on the corner. Since it was in Red Hook, I dispatched my lovely bus boy Chris to fetch them and we drank Boylan's Black Cherry soda and thumbed thru all the vinyl. As I predicted due to neighborhood, these were no ordinary records, they were clearly a DJ's cast offs- I nabbed Whoudini, The Who's Quadrophenia, some Teena Marie and a bunch of fucking gems I am in shock I got my hands on. Just too good to be true. I went next door after my shift and treated myself to a manicure/pedicure (complete with a daisy, my first foray into nail art), and the radio station they had on in the salon played all sorts of retro soul, including a personal fave, "The Second Time Around" by Shalamar. Then, I got taken out to a belated birthday dinner at my favorite Peruvian place on Smith, Coco Roco, and after shoveling squid ink infused paella into my mouth, I got drunk off a single very strong mojito and ended the night at nearby SAMPLE, drinking homemade strawberry infused vodka with a splash of lemonade, then just multiple vodka lemonades, then, and this is when there was trouble, I was presented with a shot of fresh peach juice & peach schnapps and a slender flume of Vevue Cliquot Champagne. Oh, oh dear. I may have tripped and almost knocked over a stack of cookbooks and ripped a world map down off the bar wall in the process. It was a grand fucking night, I had no idea I'd end up so smashed for free as it was not in the cards, and it couldn't have been nicer as the weather was, again, idyllic. And then- as if magically- SUPERTRAMP CAME ON! This time it was "Goodbye, Stranger" (lots of stuff from Breakfast in America this weekend). I holwed in glee. Ben, ex BF and dear pal, told me to simmer down as he sipped his champagne. It did no good. Then we staggered home and had some sort of slap fight out front of my place while Porter was trying to sleep above us. I am nothing if not totally inconsiderate.
And today, after getting to work with our pal Pat Stago on a film project, Sara and I were treated to a grand supper at Calexico in Park Slope, and then headed off home after a pitstop at the all new Beauty Bar Sunday nite comedy show. I came home and was fucking off on the computer and somehow, discovered a little song by this gorgeous British songbird, Corrine Bailey Rae. It's called "Put Your Records On" and honest to god, I listened to it just once and fell in love with it. It made me so fucking happy, blissfully happy. It's so good, so rich, so joyful- the best of what neo-soul has to offer. Plus, a cowbell- thank you VERY much. I put it on at top volume and danced to it, it made me so wiggly and overjoyed. It frightened Nigel, and, I'm sure, Porter (who was luckily in his own room cartooning). I got the whole album and I know this is going to just make my life for the next couple of weeks. So excited about that, I almost want to cry.
A few months ago, I bitterly changed my anthem from "Conceited" by Remy Ma to "Return of the Mack" by Mark Morrison. But that has changed, I've changed, and now it goes a little something like this: Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite songs, you go ahead let your hair down. Sapphire and faded jeans, I hope you get your dreams, just go ahead let your hair down. You're gonna find yourself someway, somehow.
Friday, August 11, 2006
My ex boyfriend Ben loves to mock me and this is what he says in a melodramatic voice whenever I make the mistake of mentioning a show I am slated to perform in when we converse. He thinks people that get up onstage are needy jackasses that have to have constant attention in order to reaffirm themselves. And to that I say, "Yep. What of it?"
Anyway, I am now going to talk about some shows I did this week, because I think the people that make them happen deserve some praise and all of the people I performed with were funny. Also I want you to noctice how very in demand* me & my comedy partner are, AKA, "MY REEL!!!!!!!!"
Sara and I had the pleasure of performing at The Shark Show this past Saturday. It was a hoot, all of the hosts are grand- Gabe, Nick and Dan were there that night- and they made everyone feel at home. It was a fun crowd and they seemed horrified and delighted by the antics of Betsey, one of our fave characters who may, or may not, have her own series very soon on the Family Channel. Also on the bill, Sean O' Connor and Baron Vaughn- both very funny guys. There are no pictures because I got too distracted with memorizing lines and then, I got too drunk at Mo's. And then we went to a Yacht Party, and then I barfed...but that, you knew.
The next day, painfully hungover, Sara and I attended the MAX! in Central Park Shin-dig. It was a gorgeous day and we got lost at least three times total in Central Park, but we made it there during the last hour. Clutching Gatorade bottles and gigangtic gourmet sandwiches, we sat on a park bench like two feasting lemurs and watched Matt McCarthy, Jenny Rubin and the remaining few comics works their magic. It was a surreal show- the crowd was quiet but not unresponsive, if that makes sense. They all sat really far from the stage because that's where the shade was, so it looked like no one was there in all the pictures, which is hilarious. I think Jon Friedman pointed out that it was kind of like talking to yourself. When Sara and I got up to do our set, I tried not to swear per Central Park's request that we not go "blue" and managed to only say "fucking" once. Good work! We also saw all sorts of other lovely comedy types wandering around, like Carolyn Castiglia, Michelle Buteau, Baron Vaughn (again), and Gabe McKinley. It was like a Romper Room episode but with hangovers. All in all, a fun time. Even Rob Cantrell agrees- thumbs up for fart machines and tension! And thumbs up to Matt & Jenny for making the show happen! I really wish we had gotten there earlier to see more of the performers.
Then Sara and I strolled through the park with Lang, Jon and Adira. We saw the Central Park Dance Skaters which looked awesome, and, after getting seperated, the two of us then espied the Carousel. We ran to it without hesitation, and mounted up. It was so fun- much faster then we thought and in our hungoverness, we were highly disoriented. Then we bought ice creams. I will put the pictures up later because Blogger is being a pain in my ass (see above post because it wouldn't let me downlaod and I'm in no mood to fight with it).
Tuesday we took the stage at Rififi to perform at the Drink At Work show, and it was a blast. All the comics were great- Jay Bois, Matt Little, Mike Burns, Sven Weshler and host Craig Baldo- and it's always a treat to see Carol, Ces, Maryanne and Sean. Really fun.
And finally, I give props to last night's show, where I showed the cult classic video that is "Puppy Love" at the charming MCC's all lady revue. Again, a bevvy of fabu ladies took the stage- Sara Schaefer, Lang Fisher, Michelle Buteau, Adira Amram and Stickerbook, who just keep getting more hilarious and kick-ass every time I see them. Last night the 4 of them- Becky Yamamoto, Eliza Skinner, Jen Hamakker and Sue Galloway (minus member Becky Donohue) were so awesome, I was fixated. I wish I learned to play some musical instrument instead of fucking off so much as a kid. They made me want to take piano lessons again and pay attention this time. Check them out! Also, many of them run a collective blog called Hello, Hilarious! and it's grand. Click on that there, too.
I love hi-jinx and all those of you who make them happen and create them so expertly onstage for all to see. Peace.
* ie, people feel sorry for us and book us as a way to earn brownie points with jesus.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Since I now live the jaunty life of a waitress/freelance writer/turn of the century orphan, I have the luxury of sitting on my couch watching films while others are, as my parents are wont to say, "acting like adults and making a living". I'd add that I'm also eating bon bons whilst lounging, but those are expensive and I tend to subsist on pretzels I snatched off the craft services table from a film shoot months ago. At least I'm practical.
Today's movie from my personal collection? Trading Places, directed by the fantastic John Landis. What can I say about this movie that hasn't been said? It's a fucking classic. This we know. But I love watching it over and over. The party scene where Billy Ray Valentine screams at all the rude guests- that is why I don't have parties. I turn into that person- I can't enjoy myself when I'm hosting at my house, I get too nervous and worry and generally am a creep (this does not apply to hosting at other venues, as has been the case the last few times I've hosted parties with other people at other locations- I tend to get realy drunk and have a great time then because it's someone else's job to clean up). I love watching him scream at everyone about the Persian rug. Plus all the party guests look like they just got off the L train after stocking up at American Apparel.
There is a lot of toplessness in this movie and I for one say, yay, because everyone has real boobs. That's so rare these days, to see that. I hate fake plastic surgery boobs. They both creep me out and make me very sad. Yuck.
I love when Jamie Lee Curtis pulls off her wig and has her cute short hair. She's awesome in this movie.
I also noticed that in the jail scene, the guard is the dad from Beverly Hills, 90210. I wish I wasn't so analytical and didn't catch the details like that. It doesn't just apply to movies, I do it in daily life, too. I wish I was stupid. Well, stupid-er.
Just also noticed that the guy who yells at Al Franken and the other dude about the gorilla in the train station is the hilarious gay guy from Airplane. "First, the dinosuars came, but they got fat and died..." That guy. Jesus. What a nerd I am.
Uh-oh. The Belush. (sigh) In an ape suit, no less.
I just love this movie so much. It's still as funny and subversive as it always was. What a delight. Don Ameche steals the show. And all the shots of old NYC and Philadelphia are amazing.
"Fear? That's the other guys' problem." Indeed.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
In other news, I keep hallucinating that I'm hearing that stupid whistle sound that comes on at the end of PC Richards commercials. I'm not well.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Ladies,I know I missed out on the festivities this weekend. How sad. Please let me know of your future party endeavors. I would like to be there.I would like to witness it all.
Sara Jo Allocco [and Brandy]
Here is what you missed:
- lots of magic pink rum punch drinking
- brandy screaming at someone for not asking her on a date
- sara insulting someone then trying to blame it on someone else
- sara & anya singing a harmonized duet while Barber rolled her eyes
- dancing to Steely Dan
- Brandy refusing to drop the date thing- I mean, really, why didn't he ever even TRY to ask her out?!?
- getting yelled at on the fire escape stairs by a woman in-swear to god- hair curlers, a robe and slippers
- lots of navy stripes, plaid pants and ascots
- OK, let Brandy spell it out for you: D.A.T.E. !!!
- Sara butting into a serious conversation and being snubbed
- pulling an Irish exit, ditching Lang by accident
- mysterious trip home no one can recall but somehow Brandy lost $20 along the way
- the two of us, side by side, on our hands and knees, puking up pink punch in the bathtub
- puke on my bedroom rug
- puke in a $900 python handbag
If that sounds like an evening of fun then please do join us next time. I miss you!!!
LOVE YOU MUCH!!!
Sara Jo (& Brandy)
Sunday, August 06, 2006
I drunkenly cornered one of my guy friends this weekend and actually said this to his face. Not because I wanted to go out with him- and I think he was on a date at the time that I pulled this stunt- but because I was annoyed that he had never hit on me before we got to be really good friends. WHAT. Who acts like that?! I also may have told one of my friends that if he wasn't so young, I'd sleep with him in order to make his ex jealous. I thought I was being really vampy and all-sexylike with this creepy comment. He, in turn, looked vaguely horrified and hightailed it out of the conversation. Real becoming conduct, Brandy. That's what happens when we drink straight rum right out of the flask. Yuck. [CUE: Isn't She Lovely by Stevie Wonder]
You just wait til those boys got a look at me in this month's GLAMOUR, on your newsstand now! Turn to page 310 to see me making a merry jackass out of myself. I bet my dance card is going to be chock-a-block after this latest exercise in depravity. Enjoy!
Saturday, August 05, 2006
In publicity for our upcoming Shark Show performance, a link to Sara's blog from early November 2005 was sent out. I clicked on it, and it was a lovely jaunt down memory lane- but then I looked at this link that discussed our infamous six host 2005 Halloween party.
Recently, I went on the record by saying this particular night was doomed, that I wish it had never happened- long story involving me meeting someone who turned out to be not who I thought they were. I even went so far as to put my foot down about having another party this year- I was dead set against it. But when I look at these pictures and see all the people that were there, all the really wonderful fun we had, I realize that having one person turn out to be a bad friend is not that big a deal. Being betrayed by someone you cared for isn't the end of the world. Not mine, anyway. And it makes me mad at myself for spending so much time lamenting over being treated poorly by one person who acted in a selfish manner towards me when all along, I had so many really great people supporting me and assuring me that it would be better, that I'd realize this was for the best, that I could do better for myself. You were right. I was wrong. Thanks, guys.
Anyway...there was a time I couldn't bear to even look at these photos without crying or getting angry. And now, even though they still made me a bit sad, I'm able to look past that. What was all in all a fairly small, uneventful albeint painful period where I exercised questionable taste, then whined about it ad nauseum is more and more of a memory, and now all I see is Sara, and Ang, and Giulia and all sorts of other lovely friends who I know will always be there for me, who I trust implicitly and who I am well aware I'm really fucking lucky to have.
R.I.P. Tai Lounge. You served us well.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Come out and see Brandy & Sara up to no good this weekend! You get two chances. Here it go:
Saturday night we'll be performing a sketch at the fabulous Shark Show at Mo Pitkin's! These four guys- Ari, Dan, Nick, and Gabe- are delightful and we couldn't be happier to be in their show.
And then Sunday, we'll drag our hungover asses out to take part in what will surely be known someday as the Woodstock of comedy, MAX! in Central Park. This is going to be a big to do- Check out this amazing line up of NYC funny ha-ha jokey time types scheduled to perform!
Brandy & Sara
Al Del Bene
So come spend the weekend with Brandy & Sara. We'll even make you breakfast in bed.
We had a fantastic time acting as the style (Sara) and content (Brandy) judges at last night's Poetry vs. Comedy show at Galapagos! It was a genuine treat and I loved all of the performers.
You should check out the show- go to producer Cheryl B.'s website for more info. And kudos to hostess extroidiannaire Carolyn Castiglia for including us. Lastly, shame on that misogynist Bad Ass Larry. What a pervert.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Often, people say to me, they say, "Brandy. Will ever there be a man to tame the wilderness that is your savage heart?" And I say unto them, "Get bent". And then I say, "Yes. Yes, there is a man. One man, a man who can use a Disney's Haunted Mansion album like the one I had when I was little to make some of the sickest beats ever to have raps laid over them. One man who is so, so def"
That man...is Cut Chemist. Do yourselves a huge goddamn solid and buy his new album if you haven't already. You can also hear his genius on Jurassic 5's albums (not the most recent one, as he's departed to support his solo effort).
I mean, clearly we are meant for one another. He loves Old School rap. CHECK. He has awesome socks. CHECK. He's tall. CHECK. Has dark hair. CHIGGEDY CHECK. Did I mention he loves Star Wars? Oh, it's been checked, bitch.
Let the stalking commence!