Come see me in MORTIFIED! Tomorrow Night at 8.

Hey, I'm lucky enough to be in the August line up of the coast to coast sensation, MORTIFIED! I'll be reading from my diary that I wrote in at 15. Ever wondered why I only ever hear from 2 friends from high school (one of whom I technically became friends with after high school because we never really talked when we were there, but I digress)? Come hear me read and see why. Let's just say I was a self-centered jackass. I know, I know, but like, more than I am now.

Not only will I be there, but there are a ton of other really awesome people performing, so please come out to see it. And if you think you have something you might like to read, by all means, go to: www.getmortified.com and submit it for an audition!

Hope I see you there, you queerbo.

MORTIFIED! NYC
August 21, 2005 at 8 PM $8
The Magnet Theater
254 West 29th Street @ 8th Avenue
RESERVATIONS ARE A MUST- call 212-244-8824
wwww.magnettheater.com

I am in love with this man.

I have been for a few years. But today I have decided he is beyond perfection. He has red hair, so clearly, he's genetically superior. He's 6'7' tall, which makes me squirm with delight. And he's British.

Clearly the perfect man. Now I just need to crawl on top of him and convince him that I am the woman of his dreams. I'll get to work on that right now.

You think I'm kidding, but I am out of control, head over heels infatuated and am writing a letter to him RIGHT NOW!!!!

Stephen Merchant, you sexy devil, you.

The Day Begins With Tears.

After laying in bed fantasizing about Jason Bateman, I woke up, had a bowl of cereal, took a nice long shower, and padded around the apartment. I checked my email and then, came across this article.

It actually made me cry because I was so happy, so full of awe and admiration and pride that there's someone out there who has their dream come true and is still humble and normal and gracious. It's nice to have a hero. In the interest of full disclosure, I may also have cried because now I HAVE to subscribe to HBO and cough up more money to those bastards at TimeWarner. Oh, and my period. But still.

"Violate yourself, Paige."

Just when I thought this lovely day couldn't get any better, I turned on Oh! and Friends 'Til The End was on. AND it's the music video in the desert scene, natch. Upon this particular viewing, I realized I love love love the 1997 fashions. The super short silk slip dress with the platform boots. Word. And everyone has a Rachael cut and Chanel Vamp nail polish and matte red lips. Also, there are lots of leather blazers. Eeep. Micro-mini skirts in tartans, opaque black tights, Mom jean Levi 501s with a big belt giving you that paperbag waist look, all sorts of little vestigial backpacks, cropped boucle roll neck sweaters, and the infamous cropped poorboy mock turtleneck with those 3 or 4 bands of color across the boobs. I feel like I'm back in college and it hurts so good. Full disclosure: I think I've seen this movie at least 3o times over the past 8 years, on a variety of cable channels. And Laura my dearest SF friend had it on tape and we'd watch it quite a bit way back when, right before our daily TRL/Judge Jusy viewings. Like a fine wine, Friends 'Til The End only gets better with time. That is, if the wine had huge rat-bitten chunks of Velveeta floating in it.

I guess when blood begins to pour out of my vaginal canal, I become Betty Crocker. Because today I baked a blueberry cobbler and ruined a fairly nice pair of pants.

"The molecules have stopped. It's clean."

I decided to make a loaf of zucchini parmesan bread. Now I am inhaling it. I am watching The Ice Storm. It is the key party scene. Alison Janney is amazing. I want to be her. I never want to get married, not after watching movies like this.

I ran into a bunch of people today and it was great. Actually, it started last night. I was walking home from Sara's and saw my friend Erin at, of all places, a bus stop. She's an amazing actress- the photo of me seeing the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival? She was one of the leads. Anyway she's just this tall lovely drink of water, and it was such a pleasure to look up and see her randomly in the city. Then today I saw a bunch of old improv friends from UCB, and then I had coffee with my friend April, who gave me the most lovely necklace she made for me. All in all, it's been a marvelous day. It's been one of those days that I talk about from time to time where I feel totally in love with New York.

My parents bought me an iPod for my birthday and I love it so much I want to insert it into my vag.

Pretty, pretty, goofy, scathingly hot Tobey Maguire. I want someone to talk to me about my aura the way he's talking to Katie Holmes, right before she passes out in his crotch.

I miss my brother, he went back to school.

Now I Ain't Saying She A Gold Digger...

..but she ain't messin' with no broke niggaz.

Oh Kanye West, you little scamp. I am on your side on this one. No boys, I won't date you simply because you're Wall Street trash with a huge paycheck and the lifelong adoration of your local drycleaner who you keep in business with your stupid button-up shirt & Dockers ration for the week. I don't care about the total earnings, per se. It's the manners. It's the fact that you ask me what I want to drink and make sure I have at least my initial cocktail in my hand within 5 minutes of my arrival. And that if you ask me out then you expect to pay for things. Now of course, if I ask you to something- a show, a concert, etc.- I'll take care of it, and gladly. You deserve to have me spoil you, too. But the fact that you say thank you when I do is so awesome. I guess that means you have to have some money, yes. Not much, just enough to treat me like a lady. Because even when I don't let you pay all the time, I appreciate that you make the attempt. It's the generousity that gets me. Acting like a "broke-ass" isn't just about the money. It's about your respect for me; it shows that you think I'm valuable and worth treating that way. Cheapness is as much an emotional behaviour as it is an approach to cash. That simple $7 Sapphire & Tonic is sure to earn you a night in the sack that would cost hundreds from your local Russian in-call massage service. Fairly generous returns, and maybe even a hand job. Or two.

Something I Love.

I cannot, WILL NOT stop being in love with the newest season of The Surreal Life. You shall never tear us apart.

I went to karaoke last night, and as I was leaving the house I told my little brother I'd be out for an hour. This was at 9 PM. I stumbled in at 3 AM (or 4?) and somehow managed not to puke via sheer will power. Also, I was distracted by hot makeout.

Whenever there is a torrential rain storm I seem to end up having a blast at karaoke. And drinking a lot of Maker's on the rocks. Thanks to the fabulous Portia and Emily for a Vassar-esque night not at Vassar.

My word.

You are Lydia from Pride and Prejudice! You
are a young, lively creature, without much
thought for much of anything beyond the next
moment of pleasure... at your most extreme,you are Louisa Musgrove in Persuasion,
jumping foolishly from a great height. At your
best, you are the belle of the ball, the life
of the party-- any party-- every party! You
are the most fun, and you know it.

Which Jane Austen Character Are You?
brought to you by

Delicious Brooklyn Friendships!

Matthew, Anne, Me, Steve, Sara, & Porter.















"Please, sire, I've cleaned the soot from the chimneys. Might I have a crust o' bread?"
















Oh, dear!
















Steve, Porter, Sara, Matthew, & Anne.

I wanted my brother to meet some of the members of my (BOYZ II MEN/A.B.C./B.B.D) East Coast Family, so we had an impromptu Brooklyn dinner tonight. Everyone was in great spirits, laughing and being gregarious. And nary a drop of alcohol in sight. We were laughing to the point of having tears in our eyes, and everyone in the restaurant, including the waiter who I (meaning Kathy & Terry, my folks, who paid for the dinner) tipped generously, hated us. Mission accomplished! Since my parents are so far away, I like them to know I have some great people around to keep an eye on me. I'm so proud of my friends. The bastards.
















Porter and Brandy love making dreams come true!

We're Off To Grimaldi's.

Steve, my little brother, is in town and we're off to DUMBO for our Grimaldi's feast.

Enjoy this. I did.

The Descent Into Madness Begins.

This is what misery tastes like. Like chocolate covered caulk.


So the next 30 days are going to be awful. Simply horribly awful. Everyone is allowed to feel beyond sorry for me. Aside from some breaks here and there- a staff brunch, my MORTIFIED performance, etc.- I'm going to be miserable at the library, acting like Rodney Dangerfield in "Back To School". Eeep.

Please feel free to send me cheerful emails, baskets laden with exoctic fruits & Jaques Torres chocolates, exorbitant spa products, or, if you are a hot boy, to neck with me. I love the necking.

Let the misery...commence.

Someone Likes To Be Distracted By Shiny Things.

I just wasted 30 seconds of my life to take this quiz. No duh.


Maybe you're looking for love...But mostly you're looking for fun.You could get serious with the right person.For now, though, you're enjoying playing the field.

Best. Birthday. EVER.

Saturday marked the onslaught of what has to be my favorite birthday ever. I've never really had fun on birthdays, even whan I really wanted to. John threw me an awesome party on my 28th, but I was in a deep funk because of some dumb ass boy so it was tainted with my pouting. Since then, it's been pretty slim pickings, so to speak. The year after, the person who I was closest to at the time didn't even show up to my party until midnight, and she was beyond hammered. She had told me she'd be there at 7. You can imagine how happy I was. Last year, my relationship was disentegrating and I was so unhappy I cancelled my bar-b-que rather than fight with Ben in front of everyone.

I wasn't even going to have a damned party this year, to be honest. I did some deep thinking (aka whined to Mom & Sara & Anne). I tried to pinpoint what I really wanted to create- a fun, crazy hi-jinx laden environment where everyone could have a relaxed time, even if they didn't drink, where we could all hear one another, where people could smoke if they wanted and where no one had to spend ludicrous amounts of money. And so, I eschewed a stupid, crowded, loud bar party. Ms. Lady Anne (and adorable roommate Kris) were kind enough to host at their East Williamsburg apartment, which had a spacious patio and a eardrum splitting stereo- perfect for dancing to Destiny's Child, as per the birthday girl's demands. Instead of being stressed out and spending too much money on overpriced drinks, I got to drink 5+ bottles of champagne, talk to each of my lovely friends, feast on delicious treats, and dance dance dance! I had intended to head out to go dancing later when we were all good and smashed, but we were all having so much fun at Anne's I just decided to stay there. Anne also had everyone design me horrid bird-themed birthday signs, which made me so happy/grossed out I could cry. Everyone was having a blast- and then the second wave of "party" began at 11:45 pm- but that's a decadent story involving a screening of Velvet Goldmine, the Xanadu soundtrack, and yet another forgotten bottle of champagne. Scandalous!

The classy spread included:
Goldfish crackers
Fudge Stripe cookies
brie & herbed goat cheese
rosemary crackers
cracked pepper crackers
cheesecake
queso & chips (courtesey of Anne)
brownies (courtsey of Anne)
fresh salami & prosciutto
dill hummus with carrots & grape tomaotes
and, Anne's infamous Weenie Bites! This time, fully cooked!!!

I had, all in all, a dream birthday. Everyone was just the right shade of drunk (or otherwise), I got to eat awful delicious food, my plastic tumbler didst overflow with cheap chilled champagne, I had a cute boy as my date who slowdanced with me to ELO, and I was surrounded by the people I loved the most, who were also genuinely having fun, not just humoring me & yet another lmae-ass NYC bar party. Thanks to all who came and brought me a bottle of champagne and your love- it meant the world to me. I can honestly say I had the best birthday party ever, and for me, Little Miss Party Girl, that's saying something. I have some of the best friends ever. Just feast your eyes and see!



Sara does the splits after she & Anne's spirited rendition of "Sisters". The fan was broken by the end of the night. Is it a mystery as to why?

Brandy: Come straddle me and take a picture.
Sara: I'll be feeding you this.
Brandy: That's great.
All onlookers: Get a room, you two.

Action group shot! That's April, Suzanne, Rosanne, Sara, Anne, Dan, & Matthew.

Sara & Anne scarf weenie bites and scream "Food Glorious Food" at Dan, who is clearly trapped like a rat.

The gigantic, industrial fan was a true hit in the warm apartment. Plus, you can pose like you're in a RATT video and drink an entire bottle of proseco in mere minutes.

"Last Night I Had So Much Fun".

I tend to be a happy drunk.

However, one night, last winter, after a long drunken karaoke session, where I drank a distrubing amount of beer from a 40 oz. and then became inexplicably angry, I attempted to make a deposit at my local bank on the way home. I had just left Webber and Anne on the corner of 7th and 26th in my huff. I decided to endorse the check, and I don't really recall why I started scrawling- maybe my pen didn't work? The results are featured here. It's to my credit that I knew what I was doing was insane enough to deserve photo proof. That makes it less horrible...right?

As I was leaving the ATM vestibule, I took a huge stack of deposit envelopes, grunted hatefully, and threw them into the air and then stood in the shower of them. Then, I went and hailed a cab as the sun came up and was as pleasant to the driver as if I hadn't just abusively endorsed a legal document and then defaced an HSBC branch location. Therein lies my charm.

(Please notice that I scribbled "MAGIC!" on there)

Suede Head.

Ben took me to Gravy for my birthday. It was so fucking hot outside that we kept dipping into boutiques to air conditon ourselves for the 5 block walk back to my apartment. When we got to my corner, Ben said, "Look who's in the window." Nigel was sitting there, looking out onto the street. This was the first time I'd seen him do this. I always hope I'll look up and see him perched there, surveying the activity below in a haughty manner. This was the first time I did, and I was so proud. I got a bit misty eyed, and Ben laughed at me and then scurried home to air conditioning.

You Will Die at Age 58

58 Not bad, considering your super wild lifestyle Want to live longer? Try losing a few bad habits.

What Age Will You Die?

I realized just now that I act like the Church Lady, glasses and all.

I was named after that song.

From Page Six, at the opening of Jarmusch's Broken Flowers:

Newcomer Pell James stopped to tell how Murray amused the cast and crew between takes.


"He's very good with the karaoke, like he was in 'Lost on Translation,'" she said. "If you're ever at a karaoke bar with Bill Murray and you want to request a song, request 'Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)' by Looking Glass."

"How To Get a Girl To Make Out With You."

Been very busy, upstate at Vassar surrounded by chipmunks and toads and squirrels a plenty.

I'll be back soon and I'll write more then.

I just looked at my site meter and someone typed in the sentence I used to title this entry, which led them to my blog. Awesome. I had to then go and see what other sites came up under that search. That's where the link came from.

Peace out.

"I'm the leader of this pet store."

Where has Brandy been, you ask?

Why, enriching the dramatic minds of impressionable young ones, that's where. Enjoy this photo-blog which shall sum up my hi-jinx the past two weeks.

See Brandy up to her old tricks! Here she is with her adorable co-workers at the Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival, chaperoning a field trip of 30 odd acting apprentices to see The Two Gentleman of Verona. And there's a picture of the Powerhouse Theater at Vassar College, where she's been known to get drunk at an opening night party and throw trays of "wraps" at the brick walls in time to "Love Is A Battlefield". Aren't you proud she's setting such a good example for the artistic youth she's charged with instructing?















My cabin at Vassar. Sometimes, it's even bug-free.




















Rosanne's covert bag full o' cheap beer. As teaching/administrative faculty, we all pretend we're not drinking at events where the kids are and they in turn pretend not to notice we, in fact, are. Mostly because they're trashed.
















Max & Ben, post lady-clothes at the outdoor Shakespeare performance. They are minors. God is cruel.















Tadd and I are not lying down. We're tall and whoever took the photo is crouching, drunk.




















Apprentice Company Manager Aram earns his allowance. In an Oscar the Grouch bra I found on the floor at Dylan's "80s Dance Party", no less.
















Vassar's Powerhouse Theater. I've drunkenly danced on these bricks at opening night parties times too numerous to count over the past decade.

Aram, Rosanne & I at HVSF last night. It was amazing.

"Free samples at the meat factory!"

funny bumper sticker
Originally uploaded by allygirl520.

I like this for a variety of reasons.

I miss Babs and Dy-lan.

I really do. Those scamps.

I am drinking a ginger ale and being pouty. I feel like I did when I was 13 and sitting at home, certain that there were cool older people out having a fun time at bars, and counting down the days until I too could go and have a drink at the bar and dance, dance, dance.

Except now I'm really extra pouty because I'm actually old enough to go out.

Big Audio Dynamite.

I spent the entire weekend upstate and the difference is obvious. I've been in a much better mood the past 24 hours and am looking forward to going back up soon.

Note to self: humid weather makes covering the hickey on one's neck up with concealer a tad more difficult.

Did you know Nigel has a blog? Porter sdays he likes it better than mine, and I guess I can't blame him. Nigel is pretty much the world's most magical cat.

The Honeymoon, She Is Over.

I can't make my hair look like it did yesterday. And I tried, valiantly. But it was pure magic that was worked on my red mane yesterday. And now the magic is gone, and I seem to have put a devilish pox upon my head. Eeep. But the memory lingers on. (Brandy puts on furry legwarmers, pirrouttes about apartment).

I can't watch enough Food Tv. There is no such thing as "too much" when we're talking about Paula, Giada, and even squeakily Satanic yet really talented Rachael Ray. I love cooking; I'm not terribly good at it but I greatly enjoy it. I love laying in bed until late morning, then deciding what delicious thing I want to eat, then strolling to the store, getting the ingredients, and doing my best to assemble it. It's even better to do with someone you're making out with. I love cooking for cute boys. Although I have to say, Anne and I had an amazing pigs-in-a-blanket brunch one fine Sunday as well...what?! OK, we are dating. You heard it here first.

But If Things Work Out, She's Gonna Stay...Awhile...

New haircut! Outrageously expensive! Look at me! Look!
Bad indie album cover pose and all! I count Nico and Loretta Lynn amongst my influences! Also I publish a 'zine! And I write a literate sex column! And I wear cowboy boots and sundresses because I'm a millennium Annie Hall! LOOK!

Thanks, Ana at Ouidad!

Salsa In The Living Room?!

This is why Am New York is dumb.

Because in today's "celebrity" birthdays paragraph, they mentioned Gonzalo "Gonz" Martinez De La Cotera from the band Marcy Playground. But AM New York did not mention Norman Cook (The Housemartins or, more notoriously, also known as Spike Jonze co-conspirator Fatboy Slim) having a birthday today.

Who the fuck does that?! If you're going to mention a musician in your stupid purile celebrity birthday thing, why not go with the one that the avearge dope who reads it may actually recognize?

The only reason I even read the damned thing was that it was free on the table at the deli when I sat down to have my everything bagel & iced coffee. Later, the stupidity of it popped back into my head and after 3 seconds of internet research, I found out that Mr. Cook had a b-day today as well.

I guess what I'm saying is, when do I get a job at AM New York now, looking up inane shit that's fit to print?

Oh, What A Night. (July 9, 2005)

The Four Faced Liar, 10:00 pm
The night began inauspiciously enough. Sara met me in the Village and we went to a little bar a friend recommended due to the high percentage of hot Irish bar staff. I was not disappointed. Angela joined us, and after a couple of Sapphire & tonics, everything was magically drunk.








Dark Room, 12:00 am
After a marathon stroll to the Lower East Side, we were in search of somewhere to go dancing and cause trouble. This place is atrocious but always provides entertainment galore in the form of scenesters and wanna-be scenesters. Sara verbally abused a man in an honest to god clown suit complete with blinking nose, and Anglea met a nice guy named Edgar. I got excited that they played "Your Love" by the Outfield.

NO PHOTO PROVIDED DUE TO: I AM LAME
The Magician, 12:45ish am
After deciding that the Dark Room was no longer funny and was instead reeking of desperation, we escaped to the Magician in order for me to play Matthew Sweet, the Beach Boys, and Echo & the Bunnymen on the jukebox (which I was too drunk & distracted to do after we got there) and stare longingly at boys with more expensive haircuts than mine. I realized I was pretty drunk when someone played "Imagine" and I screamed "Who the fuck goes out to a bar and plays this song?!" But really- who does that? How depressing. Edgar and Angela encouraged me to talk to a cute boy but I was too freaked out. As drunk as I was, I was still too shy. Bad idea, Brandy.








Welcome to the Johnsons, sometime at like, 2:00 am?
OK. This is when it all got kind of fuzzy. There was Ms. Pac Man and screaming from Sara & I as a result of it. There were 2 or three cans of PBR for me. Annie arrived at this point in what she called her "prom dress"- a very pretty non-stuffy black evening gown. She had been at a family friend's wedding and as such, was hammered. Perfect. We decided there were no cute boys and we ditched the bar to embark on a search for them. This is when things began to stray off the bicycle path- literally.















Tour de France 2005, 3:15ish am
There were many photos taken on the bike someone had oh, so foolishly chained to a pole outside the Johnsons. I had to pick Sara up to put her on the bike, and pick her back up to set her down. Some random drunken pals that were leaving the bar offered to take our picture, with one of them insisting he would do the honors as he was a "photo major". We bought his line. One of them insisted that I was "hiding", and I tried to explain that I was a huge monster compared to all the tiny tiny ladies I was with, and therefore was adjusting so as not to be an Amazon in all the photos. But what came out was this following loud drunken comment: "I'm too big". How elegant!















There was an awful styrofoam helmet hanging from this bike and I clamoured for a photo of Sara crouching on her hands and kness wearing it. Now at this point, a guy who had been sitting out front of then Magician on his bike the whole time we were there, now rode across the street and somehow talked Sara into getting on his bike. I immediately hated him and blamed my lack of makeout on him, and I named him Lance Armstrong.





















Sara had her heart set on a snack, so we went to get crepes. The clock was ticking, and I was craving a good stiff G&T and a tall gent to breathe it onto and had my heart set on Lakeside Lounge. But the clock was ticking to last call 4 am, and there were numerous distractions. One of these was a joint from Lance Armstrong, one of these was Sara grabbing a cute guy's phone and screaming "You're a whore!" into it, then hanging up. It turns out he was waiting to meet his freinds- the very same friends whose ranks included "photo major" from before! Sara threw herself on the hood of a BMW and sang "Here I Go Again" and made many new friends (sans the car owner who- after this display- managed to come out and drive away unnoticed by us). I finally lost my temper at this point, as I realized it had taken us 45 minutes to simply walk around the corner. Luckily a kind man named Sean happened to be walking by and gave me a beer.


But I was in a such a mood, that later when I spilled a bit of it on my top, I then dumped the rest of its contents down my front, yelled something close to "wet t-shirt contest!" (I think?) and then threw the bottle in the air. It sailed neatly over the fence surrounding a car lot adjacent to the projects on avenue A and smashed into a million pieces, like a movie sound effect. Now, there is talk from others in the party that the rear window was also smashed. I wouldn't know- I didn't look back. I was too busy pouting over lack of makeout and booze. What a diva.


We made our way to a bodega to get money for Angela & I to take a cab back to the amazing borough of Brooklyn. I think this final photo sums it all up nicely. Yes, Sara is modeling her penis made of apricots and a turnip. And Angela somehow has gum stuck to her money...we still don't know how. Thank you kindly. Good day to you, sir.

















I said, good day!

It's Fun To Do What The Machine Tells You.

HIJINX!

SCANDAL!

WRECKAGE!

SPITTLE!

All in one night.

When Sara posts the pictures tomorrow, I'll go ahead and fill in the blanks above.


Also, to whoever's car was in the lot adjacent to the projects on Avenue A- I am genuinely sorry about your rear window. I didn't think they were so fragile. Apologies.

Gypsies, Tramps & Thieves.

Tee hee.

I can't sleep, have terrible insomnia again. This does not bode well as I have to be up in a scant hour and forty-five minutes to catch a train upstate to teach. I'm on an awful schedule that I can't seem to shake. I can't get to sleep until frightfully late, then I'm asleep during the day and it's not a deep restful sleep because the sun is out, duh. So then I wak eup late in the day, depressed and tired. I feel like I'm in some NYU pre-med deprivation study. At least then I'd get paid.

Plus at this hour there is nothing good on TV because every channel seems to run some god awful informercial from 4 am until 8 am. Jesus! I remember when there were three or four infomercials, now there's at least 20 (Who just dated themselves blatantly? This one). The Cher hair products one was a personal fave. I wonder if they still even make & sell those Lori Davis products.

I ran into my one of my exes today as I was on the way to class. It was odd. Thank god I had makeup on and some semblance of a decent outfit versus my usual androgynous gay PE teacher look. It would have been awesome if I had a cute boy dripping off my arm, but ah, well.

Sometimes when you wear a skirt and heels, guys hit on you. I need to remember that when I stumble around and pull on clothes in the morning under the guding principle of "It's clean and does not make me scratch at myself".

I just went into an inexplicable frenzy and bought a bunch of cookbooks online. I want to start entertaining more and cooking at home for friends.

Cats have 3 eyelids.

I think I will go to karaoke tomorrow night in Queens.

For some reason when I'm riding the subway I assume everyone is staring at me.

Someone told me I had the "sexy librarian" look going for me recently. I was delighted, as I always assume I have the "dumpy soccer Mom trying for hip" look going on. If that Mom was drunk and obnoxiously forcing her friends to dance to Destiny's Child at their own party while wearing a baby blue feather boa, after jumping on their bed and dumping a vodka lemonade on it. You know, same old same old.

I am going to go lay in my bed and close my eyes and play possume for and hour and fifteen minutes now. Thanl you kindly.

"Coconut will not go gently into that goodnight".

He shall rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I do so love Raising Arizona.

I do not like people who leave their cellphones on in restaurants and then let them ring, over and over and over. I don't CARE if you have graduated tones, you're still a douche nozzle for doing it. RUDE.

People, save the date. I am celebrating my 21st birthday August 6th, 2005 and it shall be scandalous.

I woke up and prayed today, which happens on occasion. No, I am not religious- in fact I think organized religion is soma for idiots who cannot think for themselves and I choose to be moral on my own merits rather than earn "Jesus brownie points" by pretending to be charitable. But I do believe in a higher power which I make no apologies for. Apprently, this higher power was not in the United Kingdom early this morning. It's sort of strange to pray when religion is certainly what motivated a mass murder. But what else can you do? I woke up, started crying, and grasped at meta-physical straws. Human beings are pretty fucking stupid to one another.

Makeout Vacation.

It's pouring rain, which makes me all a-flutter. I have some sort of rain fetish. I don't really know why. I don't know where it comes from. I just know that when it happens, I get crazy. I want to go outside and make out in it. It's kind of juvenile I know- maybe it stems from some sixth grade fascination. But it really gets me hot & bothered.

Rain and fighting.

Jeepers Creepers, Semi-Star.

Central Park, New York City.
Originally uploaded by branleighbarber.

Imagine my suprise when I turned on Comedy Central and saw they were showing episodes of Mr. Show. Delightful, even with stupid commercials interspersed. The Jeepers Creepers sketch now looks like a Polyphonic Spree video.

I have so much that I've been meaning to write about, stuff I saw that inspired me greatly. A bunch of shows over the past two weeks that I was so impressed with. But I am so lazy that I spend more time thinking about the paragraphs I'll write rather than actually doing it. When I'm in the shower, I have these amazing insights I intend to write down the minute I'm dry & fully clothed. Rarely happens.

OK, I have officially seen that brain-numbing Attention Inventors commercial 5 times in the past two hours. "I shoulda goden a pay-dent!!!!" I swear that when that douchebag says that line, it makes me believe in IQ-enforced sterilization.

Man oh man, was Nigel ever angry at me when I got home today. There was a lot of acting out. That's what I get for being a bad cat parent.

Also, I am not moving home for at least another year. Freak out temporarily averted.

I think I'm moving home.

Seriously. I think I'm going to move back to California this fall.

I fucking hate LA.

People there get the opportuinty to take a writing class with Scott Auckerman, who I have both a talent & humping crush on. I suppose it would just be another opportunity for me to make a fool out of myself by slobbering on him much like I did to my former teacher Kevin Allison, when I offered to have he & his boyfriend's baby. I wish I was kidding. Sadly a lot of thought went into it on my part and I thought it was kind of cute to say it outloud. Then I had another drink or six.

This made me feel strange.

Animal cruelty? It seems the answer is yes.

Grandpa wins by a mile!

You tell me. Because I don't know.

BEAT IT!

Nigel just wants to be left alone.

"If you'll excuse me I'm going to take an all night drunk, and then I'm going to go find the shark that killed my best friend."

I think this was the line Bill Murray said. It was a long movie. But it made me laugh.

I watched Closer and there was a lot of sobbing. I would like to say to anyone who went through a recent breakup, especially if there was infidelity, you may want to avoid viewing it. I also was beyond turned on by Clive Owens, who I have had dreams of being ravaged by since Croupier. He is such a beast. I fantasized that Clive Ownes was saying to me (instead of lucky, tiny Natalie Portman), "You're going to take all your gear off right now, and you're going to turn around very slowly, and you're gonna bend over, and you're gonna touch the fucking floor for my viewing pleasure". This fantasy proved to be a better feeling than when you get the biggest slice of birthday cake, with the rose and all. Seriously, there's a scene between them (in a champagne room, no less) that summed up more than a few of my past relationships, and I suppose this similarity should have made me sad. Instead it made me wish I was still getting laid by some of those gorgeous, deranged hot losers of yore. When I moved to New York, I started seeing smarter boys, and the sex has suffered greatly. I no longer feel the need to make excuses for liking men that are bigger than me, taller and/or stockier. If I can hold my own in a street fight, than so should you be able to. It would be great if you also could discuss Heaven 17 and/or Tom Perotta novels, too. I find it attractive.

When I started looking for intellectual compatibility over the strictly physical, I expected that sex would be the least of my issues. Good plan, re-re.

So anyway...Clive Owens. Please do it with me.

Thai Sesame on Smith.

I just discovered this new feature on Blogger and became excited. What a nerd.

Have That Removed.

skeered
Originally uploaded by branleighbarber.

I still have a crush on John Laraoquette. Who can resist the pervy diligence of Dan from "Night Court"? Not me.

Here is something I would like taken care of immediately. I no longer wish to turn on the television and see any fucking commercials featuring computer generated animation utilized to make animals speak. Case in point: a stupid talking dog that may or may not disclose the family recipe for baked beans. I wanted to take my own life when I was forced to watch it. It's not funny, or cute. Let's not even get started on the toilet-paper hawking bears in the forest that prance out from behind trees where branches have been magically rigged to accomodate toilet-paper rolls. Does a bear shit in the woods? Apparently the answer is yes when he uses Kleenex Cotenelle to wipe his hairy ass. It makes me not want to buy your stupid products. Fuck what Middle America falls for, I'm not having it. No more anthropomorphic (sp?) sales-animals for Brandy. Can someone get on this? Jesus what do I pay you people for?!

I just watched Annie on AMC, and I was surprised how much of it I remembered. Of course, I watched it constantly when it would air in HBO- my schedule was made around these repeats that year- and had the cassette of the movie soundtrack, which I must have played until the tape gave out. I sang along absentmindedly while Nigel sat by me, putting up with my tone-deaf yowling. And of course I cried constantly. My uterus is an enemy these days, sending out hormones that fell my attempts at being a truly sarcastic bitch and making me weep at the most corny, treacly crap. In then end I was forced to use none other than Kleenex brand facial tissues, to my chagrin.

Now I'm going to watch It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. I love Jonathan Winters.

dont look back

Friends & Lovers
Originally uploaded by branleighbarber.

Meet Pee-Wee & Claude in person. At the last, that's right, THE LAST in our month-long run of sketch show at The PIT this Saturday night.

People, what more could you want?! There will be free Malibu & Pineapple jello shots. There will be me partially nude. There will be Sara in a dirty pink sweatsuit that says "Sweety Cherry" or some such nonsense. And, of course, these two boys who are pictured in the bed.

It's going to be tons of BYOB fun, and the party after will go on until at least 5 am. Don't be lame. Come out and be part of it.

CALENDARIZE!
written & performed by Sara Allocco & Brandy Barber
directed by Kevin Allison
featuring Matthew Weiss

Saturday June 25th @ 11 pm - $8
Show info & tickets here.

We suggest you pre-buy your tickets. Hell, we suggest you just buy them, moneybags. And bring all your cute single, 6' and up, dark-haired guy friends. Especially if they wear glasses.