Holy christ. That is all I have to say right this minute.
Josh Hamilton, I am in love with you. Damn, son.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
A Problem With The Problem Page.
Every morning that I go into work, I stop and wait at the same intersection. I tap my foot and stare around absentmindedly, waiting for the light to change so I can cross the heavily-trafficked street. And that's when I look above the button that you're meant to press to indicate to the signal that you're waiting for a WALK sign. My eyes fall on a white sticker with black typewriter style font. I expect it to say, "PRESS HERE FOR LIGHT". But this sticker is different. Instead it says, "PRESS HERE FOR LUCK". And I smile. Because I always forget it's there until I'm staring right at it. My heart leaps because I remember how happy it makes me to see it again. I'm pleased that no one has peeled it off, so much that I almost want to cry for a second at people's inherent goodness. And then I press the button, and close my eyes, and make a wish.
Trumpy! You can do stupid things!
I think drinking two overflowing glasses of red wine at 11 pm on a Sunday makes perfect sense. So does announcing "I'm French!", then putting on a beret and a neck scarf and forcing your companion for the evening to smoke a clove with you. Later, when the wool hat makes your head itch because you are allergic, feel free to hurl it to the ground and declare, "This is stupid".
I went to a lecture/talk given by legendary theater director Peter Brook tonight; amazing doesn't begin to describe it. Just as I was really becoming enthralled by what he had to say, hi-jinx galore began. I was overtaken with annoyance directed towards the retard sitting next to me who was furiously taking notes, verbally commenting to himself on Brook's words and rocking autistically in his chair, thereby making all of the 6 seats in the row quake. This did not bode well for the Q&A session slated to follow the panel, and I was not to be disappointed in my quest for more reasons to love abortion. I hate most all other people.
More on this later, I am off to bed.
But here's one more thing: walking home from my train stop I saw a subway poster advertising the new reality show, "Showdogs" (or whatever). Someone had written neatly, in humble black letters over the pet & its owner's smooching muzzles: DISTRACT US FROM WAR.
I went to a lecture/talk given by legendary theater director Peter Brook tonight; amazing doesn't begin to describe it. Just as I was really becoming enthralled by what he had to say, hi-jinx galore began. I was overtaken with annoyance directed towards the retard sitting next to me who was furiously taking notes, verbally commenting to himself on Brook's words and rocking autistically in his chair, thereby making all of the 6 seats in the row quake. This did not bode well for the Q&A session slated to follow the panel, and I was not to be disappointed in my quest for more reasons to love abortion. I hate most all other people.
More on this later, I am off to bed.
But here's one more thing: walking home from my train stop I saw a subway poster advertising the new reality show, "Showdogs" (or whatever). Someone had written neatly, in humble black letters over the pet & its owner's smooching muzzles: DISTRACT US FROM WAR.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Kind of Blue.
I ask of you, Faithful Readers: Did he ask me out?
Work crush: Uh, hey Brandy do you like cinema?
Me: (to self) I wish I could yank your pants off with my teeth. Well, if you count "Caddyshack" as cinema then yes, I do.
Work Crush: (does not laugh) Hmmm.
Me: Why?
Work Crush: Well then I think you should see [Stemy Italian Sexy Nudie Type Movie]that's showing here next week.
Me: Oh, okay cool.
Work Crush: It's really good.
Me: Uh, great.
Work Crush: I was going to go see it again, so...
Me: Mmm-hmm (eating gummy bears from purse, thinking about how hot Chevy Chase used to be in the 80s)
Work Crush: So we could maybe go, then.
Brandy: (to self) HOLY JESUS BABY CHILD CHRIST IN A MANGER! DID HE JUST ASK ME OUT?! AM I CRAZY?!
Uhh, well let me look at my schedule. I think I can...but I may have plans. I'll let you know.
Work Crush: Cool. Do you like weissbeers?
Brandy: As in Coors Lite?
Work Crush: (smiles) Maybe.
Things I Find Amusing.
- Nervous breakdowns
- Running out of rooms in tears; crying
- Loud,melodramatic wailing
- Live animals interacting with humans
- Perverts
- Dancing
- Spontaneous bursting into song
- Caustic indifference
- Defiance as a character trait
- Odd, archaic speech
- Funny weird names (i.e. Mister Salad, MC Pee Pants)
- Hatefulness
- Revenge
- Unflattering costume & makeup
- Rampant horniness (see "perverts")
- Inappropriate racial comments
- Filthiness
- Sloppy make out & groping
- Semi-nudity
- Biting
- Slapping
- Falling down
- Pantsing
- The word pants as in, "I'm Not Wearing..."
- Begging
- Melodrama
- Death threats
- Verbal abuse
- Abstract well-defined worlds, i.e. "Dog Show!" sketch
- Dead infants
- Middle American ignorance
- Fat frat boys
- Swapped genders onstage
- Insane people
- Non-sequiters
- uncomfortable silences
- Callbacks to earlier references
- Parodies of other shows
- Incongruous laugh tracks
- Sock monkeys
- Real monkeys
- Sad, slightly mistreated animals in Asian dry cleaner calendars
- Creepy porcelain figurines
- Blasphemey
- Animals forced to wear human clothes
- Old black & white films of animals in human clothes going on dates, getting married
- Bad sitcom theme songs ("A Second Wind" from Mr. Show)
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Some Enchanted Evening.
I've been a wee bit busy the past few days, so this post will be a long one. Hence, the segments divided by titles such as this:
THE PRODIGAL SON
About an hour ago, I came home and went to bed early due to exhaustion, having been up late and carousing all week. About an hour ago, the weekly hi-jinx that takes place on the corner directly across from my bedroom window began to take place in full force. They weren't as bad the night before, but I knew once the weather warmed up that it would only be a matter of time before the drunken urban serenades were to commence. And commence they did, as I was woken from my much needed slumber to hear the constant screaming of "WHAT, son? WHAT, son?" Over and over and over. Other comments included, "When my nigga gon' be ready to roll with me?" and "Nigga I done told you it's TM, trust and money trust and money!" Delightful. I waited roughly a half an hour, thinking to myself how this yowling sounded not unlike an a capella Ja Rule record, before I called in my weekly Old Lady Barber Quality of Life Noise complaint. As I was on the phone with the 311 operator, the yelling reaching a crescendo. It was so loud the operator could clearly hear the words the buffoon was saying. I sighed, and the operator snorted and said, "Now that's some drunk sad-ass nigger." Then he bade me good night and thanked me for calling the City of New York. Oh, how I do love the city of New York and its employees.
HELLO, IT'S ME
Todd Rundgren is a master pop craftsman, a visionary whose amazing body of works is sadly reduced in the average dipshit's head to the five o' clock drive time nightmare that is "Bang on the Drum All Day". So you can imagine the delight I had when, upon attending a long-standing comedy show for the first time this past Wednesday, I got to see Yo La Tengo do a cover of "I Saw The Light". It was simply lovely. And speaking of that show, it was a great night all around. It was one of those nights that you run into a gaggle of boys who have either been flirting with you for a long time or who you've always wanted to flirt with but never gotten the chance. Sara was immediately drunk and as a result, was hilarious. Her inebriation involved convincing a shopkeeper that she should have a bag of Cheese Doodles donated to her due to her recent thyroid cancer, eating off of some random guy in the street's food, and cutting in front of some couple on their first date at Vienerio's to try and eat what she had determined were "samples" off of the front counter. These were, in fact, whole cheesecakes, but no one was going to convince her of this fact. I, for my part, was looking to start a fistfight (I was provoked), making a pass at a guy who has a (never, ever there) girlfriend, and standing on the street in front of the bar, drinking a can of Coors Lite: The Silver Bullet out of a brown paper bag. So that's classy. I also was beyond annoyed at the fact that there is a guy who I seem to run into at all of these shows, who always peers at me but never comes up and talks to me. And when I say he peers at me, I mean it- I feel like I'm being stalked. Which at first, was cute and sort of flattering, at least in his case. But now it's just annoying. Look, I know you're in comedy because you were chubby and the prettiest girl in school spit on you when you gave her a Valentine. Join the fucking club, pal. But grow up, get over it, and come ask me on a date. I'm not going to do the work for you. Lesser men than you have tried, so what's the problem? (Note to self: Maybe he thinks I'm really a man?)
76 TROMBONERS
I got to walk around in the lovely sunshine today, and it was marvelous. Although, to be certain, I was at my most whup-ass. I went out to eat breakfast under the impression that I'd come home to freshen up later, but that didn't happen, so I had to go see a ballet at BAM scented in a vaguely homeless manner. And let's not even talk about my hair, which looked like a racoon had taken up residence within it. So, after the play and lunch with Porter & his sister, I came back home with plans to nap and to bathe, for chrissakes. When I got back upstairs, I realized I'd forgotten to go to pick up some groceries for dinner, so after swearing so loudly my landlord (a man who sprinkles the word "fuck" into sentences as if it were pepper) came out and glared at me, I trudged back down the stairs and across the street to the store. And while I was there, I saw a guy check me out really blatantly-like a wolf in a Porky Pig cartoon. And I about died laughing. Because I smelled like a fucking NFL locker room hamper, my hair was a disaster, I had a slight sunburn, and definitely had garlic breath due to my various meals. So, I'm thinking, if that's what it takes to impress the menfolk, then no more showers for me.
THE SPICE OF LIFE
The other night, Porter and I were having a semi-drunken walk home in the rain after eating a deep fried Mars bar. And he asked me if I’d even seen the Spice Girls movie.
MASON, HOW DARE YOU!
It was if I’d been slapped in the face. Did I did I not used to wear a Spice Girls T-shirt onstage when we used to perform together? In fact, did I not wear it in one of our very first UCB shows?! Do I not have 2 Ginger Spice dolls that my friend got me specially when he was in England?! Did you happen to notice that Spice Girls “Spicewatch” puzzle on my bookshelf?! Porter, you’re dead to me now. Beat it! I no longer have what the cool snarky kids call a "comedy boner" for you! And hey- "I actually like the Spice Girls!" How do you like them apples?!
THE PRODIGAL SON
About an hour ago, I came home and went to bed early due to exhaustion, having been up late and carousing all week. About an hour ago, the weekly hi-jinx that takes place on the corner directly across from my bedroom window began to take place in full force. They weren't as bad the night before, but I knew once the weather warmed up that it would only be a matter of time before the drunken urban serenades were to commence. And commence they did, as I was woken from my much needed slumber to hear the constant screaming of "WHAT, son? WHAT, son?" Over and over and over. Other comments included, "When my nigga gon' be ready to roll with me?" and "Nigga I done told you it's TM, trust and money trust and money!" Delightful. I waited roughly a half an hour, thinking to myself how this yowling sounded not unlike an a capella Ja Rule record, before I called in my weekly Old Lady Barber Quality of Life Noise complaint. As I was on the phone with the 311 operator, the yelling reaching a crescendo. It was so loud the operator could clearly hear the words the buffoon was saying. I sighed, and the operator snorted and said, "Now that's some drunk sad-ass nigger." Then he bade me good night and thanked me for calling the City of New York. Oh, how I do love the city of New York and its employees.
HELLO, IT'S ME
Todd Rundgren is a master pop craftsman, a visionary whose amazing body of works is sadly reduced in the average dipshit's head to the five o' clock drive time nightmare that is "Bang on the Drum All Day". So you can imagine the delight I had when, upon attending a long-standing comedy show for the first time this past Wednesday, I got to see Yo La Tengo do a cover of "I Saw The Light". It was simply lovely. And speaking of that show, it was a great night all around. It was one of those nights that you run into a gaggle of boys who have either been flirting with you for a long time or who you've always wanted to flirt with but never gotten the chance. Sara was immediately drunk and as a result, was hilarious. Her inebriation involved convincing a shopkeeper that she should have a bag of Cheese Doodles donated to her due to her recent thyroid cancer, eating off of some random guy in the street's food, and cutting in front of some couple on their first date at Vienerio's to try and eat what she had determined were "samples" off of the front counter. These were, in fact, whole cheesecakes, but no one was going to convince her of this fact. I, for my part, was looking to start a fistfight (I was provoked), making a pass at a guy who has a (never, ever there) girlfriend, and standing on the street in front of the bar, drinking a can of Coors Lite: The Silver Bullet out of a brown paper bag. So that's classy. I also was beyond annoyed at the fact that there is a guy who I seem to run into at all of these shows, who always peers at me but never comes up and talks to me. And when I say he peers at me, I mean it- I feel like I'm being stalked. Which at first, was cute and sort of flattering, at least in his case. But now it's just annoying. Look, I know you're in comedy because you were chubby and the prettiest girl in school spit on you when you gave her a Valentine. Join the fucking club, pal. But grow up, get over it, and come ask me on a date. I'm not going to do the work for you. Lesser men than you have tried, so what's the problem? (Note to self: Maybe he thinks I'm really a man?)
76 TROMBONERS
I got to walk around in the lovely sunshine today, and it was marvelous. Although, to be certain, I was at my most whup-ass. I went out to eat breakfast under the impression that I'd come home to freshen up later, but that didn't happen, so I had to go see a ballet at BAM scented in a vaguely homeless manner. And let's not even talk about my hair, which looked like a racoon had taken up residence within it. So, after the play and lunch with Porter & his sister, I came back home with plans to nap and to bathe, for chrissakes. When I got back upstairs, I realized I'd forgotten to go to pick up some groceries for dinner, so after swearing so loudly my landlord (a man who sprinkles the word "fuck" into sentences as if it were pepper) came out and glared at me, I trudged back down the stairs and across the street to the store. And while I was there, I saw a guy check me out really blatantly-like a wolf in a Porky Pig cartoon. And I about died laughing. Because I smelled like a fucking NFL locker room hamper, my hair was a disaster, I had a slight sunburn, and definitely had garlic breath due to my various meals. So, I'm thinking, if that's what it takes to impress the menfolk, then no more showers for me.
THE SPICE OF LIFE
The other night, Porter and I were having a semi-drunken walk home in the rain after eating a deep fried Mars bar. And he asked me if I’d even seen the Spice Girls movie.
MASON, HOW DARE YOU!
It was if I’d been slapped in the face. Did I did I not used to wear a Spice Girls T-shirt onstage when we used to perform together? In fact, did I not wear it in one of our very first UCB shows?! Do I not have 2 Ginger Spice dolls that my friend got me specially when he was in England?! Did you happen to notice that Spice Girls “Spicewatch” puzzle on my bookshelf?! Porter, you’re dead to me now. Beat it! I no longer have what the cool snarky kids call a "comedy boner" for you! And hey- "I actually like the Spice Girls!" How do you like them apples?!
Friday, April 08, 2005
Magnetic Fields.
I don't have anything to write of any value right now. Too tired. However, I do have a little slice o' visual nirvana. And knowing is half the battle, G.I. Joe.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Some Celebrity Pity Shot in US Magazine
From: Sara Allocco
To: Brandy Barber
April 4, 2005
Subject: My Favorite Part Of Last Night
Was when we were reading the magazine and you kept either shaking your finger or giving the finger to small inner city kids
To: Brandy Barber
April 4, 2005
Subject: My Favorite Part Of Last Night
Was when we were reading the magazine and you kept either shaking your finger or giving the finger to small inner city kids
This monkey's gone to heaven.
I am about ten minutes from getting on a plane to Rome, hopping on a Vespa to the fucking St. Peter's Basilica (or whatever the fuck it's called, I don't remember the proper name because I don't fucking give a damn), and taking a dump on the stupid Pope's corpse. WHO CARES IF HE DIED?!? Guess who I care about dying? Those poor people stationed in Iraq. Let's talk about them and how the U.S.'s own creepy thinly-veiled "holy war" religious right bullshit is poisoning this country- and the world.
I refuse to pretend I give a rat's ass. I hate compulsory christianity more than anything. Why do I have to act respectful of an organized religion that has oppressed billions over centuries? Eat me, "Pope".
I couldn't even escape this hyped up bullshit on NPR this morning. I had to hear how affected by this evil man's death "teenagers" were. Yeah, because thye're all knocked up and have STD's since you banned condoms, you ass.
This is making me so angry. I want to hotwire the Pope Mobile, knock him out of the casket, and run over his head.
I refuse to pretend I give a rat's ass. I hate compulsory christianity more than anything. Why do I have to act respectful of an organized religion that has oppressed billions over centuries? Eat me, "Pope".
I couldn't even escape this hyped up bullshit on NPR this morning. I had to hear how affected by this evil man's death "teenagers" were. Yeah, because thye're all knocked up and have STD's since you banned condoms, you ass.
This is making me so angry. I want to hotwire the Pope Mobile, knock him out of the casket, and run over his head.
Hey, Nacho, Nacho, Go To Sleep!
- Oblivious- Aztec Camera
- He's So Shy- The Pointer Sisters
- 110th Street- Bobby Womack
- Dirty Pop- N'Sync
- Deep and Wide and Tall- Aztec Camera
- Sunshine-Keane
- Everything You've Done Wrong-Sloane
- Mexican Wine-Fountains of Wayne
- Strange Magic-ELO
- Everybody, Everybody- Black Box
- So Fresh, So Clean- OutKast
- Sparky's Dream-Teenage Fanclub
- Chanson Papillion- Chaka Khan
- Kelly Watch The Stars - AIR
- Supersonic- J.J. Fad
- Is It Like Today?-World Party
- Jesus Loves You (But Not As Much As I Do)- Eve's Plum
- She's the One- Robbie Williams
- Midnight at the Oasis- that dog.
- Something About Us-Daft Punk
- Take Your Time (Do It Right)- S.O.S. Band
- Big Sur- The Thrills
- All For Swinging You Around- The New Pornographers
- Co-Pilot- Letters to Cleo
- I've Been Waiting- Matthew Sweet
- Street Life- Jackie Brown Soudntrack (forget her name)
- Forget Me Nots- Patrice Rushen
- The Real Roxanne- Roxanne Shante
- Friends of P- The Rentals
Intervention.
Inquring minds want to know (a.k.a. my Mom):
Sometimes, I am not drunk. I actually don't drink that much, it's just that when I do, I tend to go a bit beserk. I turn into Kim Basinger in Blind Date. And, as observed by Sara, Problem Child. Someone said to me the other day that you're only young once. While this is, in my case, an excuse for acting naughty sometimes, I liked hearing it.
I was the classic late bloomer. I drank once in high school when I was 15, got low-grade alcohol poisoning, and never touched a drop again until I was 19. I didn't do drugs, in fact, I would rag on my stoner friends who did. I was a wet blanket in that regard. I did get in trouble all the time, but it was for being a smart ass with an anti-authority chip on my shoulder. I was on Academic League, and also in Saturday School regularly. I once asked for a bathroom pass from a sexist History teacher I hated, then hopped over the fence to the teacher's parking lot and out a bumper sticker on his car that said. "Sexy & Single and Loves To Mingle". Then I came back and smiled at him sweetly. I graduated when I was 17. I dropped out of college for a year. I wanted to be a dancer. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to marry my first love and be a perfect wife. I wanted to stop being a compulsive liar. I wanted to be feminist activist icon. I wanted to be a comedian. I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to be a playwright. I wanted to be a theater producer. I wanted to be philanthropic fundraiser. I wanted to be the party girl I never was when the rest of my friends were. I wanted to move to England and marry a Brit. I wanted to move to Italy and retrace the same path as Lord Byron did before he died, a sort of homage to Sherman's March. I wanted to be Sylvia Plath and Charles Bukowski. I wanted to be someone's Annie Hall.
I kind of like being a trainwreck. I like not apologizing for it anymore.
Sometimes, I am not drunk. I actually don't drink that much, it's just that when I do, I tend to go a bit beserk. I turn into Kim Basinger in Blind Date. And, as observed by Sara, Problem Child. Someone said to me the other day that you're only young once. While this is, in my case, an excuse for acting naughty sometimes, I liked hearing it.
I was the classic late bloomer. I drank once in high school when I was 15, got low-grade alcohol poisoning, and never touched a drop again until I was 19. I didn't do drugs, in fact, I would rag on my stoner friends who did. I was a wet blanket in that regard. I did get in trouble all the time, but it was for being a smart ass with an anti-authority chip on my shoulder. I was on Academic League, and also in Saturday School regularly. I once asked for a bathroom pass from a sexist History teacher I hated, then hopped over the fence to the teacher's parking lot and out a bumper sticker on his car that said. "Sexy & Single and Loves To Mingle". Then I came back and smiled at him sweetly. I graduated when I was 17. I dropped out of college for a year. I wanted to be a dancer. I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to marry my first love and be a perfect wife. I wanted to stop being a compulsive liar. I wanted to be feminist activist icon. I wanted to be a comedian. I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to be a playwright. I wanted to be a theater producer. I wanted to be philanthropic fundraiser. I wanted to be the party girl I never was when the rest of my friends were. I wanted to move to England and marry a Brit. I wanted to move to Italy and retrace the same path as Lord Byron did before he died, a sort of homage to Sherman's March. I wanted to be Sylvia Plath and Charles Bukowski. I wanted to be someone's Annie Hall.
I kind of like being a trainwreck. I like not apologizing for it anymore.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
I Enjoy Being a Girl Fuckup.
PLEASE NOTE: While this may sound somewhat melancholy, it's actually a kind of embracing of myself and my eccentric and often slightly self- destructive behavior.
My parents often wonder when I went off the deep end, as far as graduate school is/was concerned. I had moved out to New York solely to pursue the goal of an MFA, but my interest was waning in an evident manner. I was spending more and more time doing comedy stuff, and less and less time pursuing the theater administrative work I was meant to in order to do well in the career field I had chosen. I can pinpoint it to the exact night.
This was taken after my very last day of finals in year two of grad school. It was also the evening of a good friend at the time's birthday. I had gone to the gym prior, and meant to drop in for a quick drink and then go home. And, of course, as we all know, whenever one plans to be responsible with alcohol, one must then double the regular amount of drinking one does and divide that by my first (and last) Red Bull & Vodka. Then factor in all of us trouping over to the old UCB Theater to the improv nerd party night of yore- Thursday Harold Night- and things get blurry. I am fairly certain that's the night I knocked over a bunch of my & my friends' empty Ballantine 40s during someone's show. What an asshole.
I remember staggering to McManus and forcing someone to slow dance with me to one of the 50 overplayed songs on the old jukebox. I am thinking it was "Bridge Over Troubled Water". I don't remember putting the flower in my hair. I do remember not planning to get that drunk, because I wore what has to be the MOST UNAPPEALING, UNFLATTERING, POST-GYM NIGHTMARE OUTFIT OF ALL TIME (this is where my phrase "gay PE teacher" stems from) and my hair is a shambles. I have on fucking Adidas shower shoes.
At about 2 AM-ish I remember Curtis (before he was my friend) coming up to us, addressing us as "ladies", and asking us to go to a party for the Toyota Comedy Festival.
A friend was upset over the fact that a guy she liked left without asking for her number. On the way out of McManus, I saw some butcher paper sticking out of a trashcan on 7th & 19th and decided to make her a sign reading, "Don't be sad, he's gay". [See cringe-inducing photo]
There was a blurry taxi ride. I recall being on the roof of the Gershwin, one of the four of us girls getting randomly kissed in the elevator, and spitting mouthfuls of keg beer on another as she was getting hit on by some very nice guy (who I suspect hates me for it to this day; I give him that). I think I was lying on a lawn chair at one point- never on the ground, because it was covered in Astroturf. I know I accidentally knocked a bottle off the top of the building and felt really, really guilty. And my friend Rebecca climbed the water tower.
We ended up at a diner at 7 am on Friday morning, where whenever one of my girlfriends would mention a guy I would interrupt her and demand, "Yeah, but does he have a big dick?" The lone guy who was with us looked fascinated and horrfied by my quest for schlong knowledge. I think he considered it a challenge of some sort. I remember smelling Ivory soap and Listerine on someone and realizing I smelled like the warm version of the now-fermented keg beer I had expelled from my mouth onto my horribly ugly shirt. I remember pointing & laughing at people who were going to work in their suits and high heels. I think that's when something in my just sort of snapped and I knew I could never do that for the rest of my life. I just couldn't, even if I tried. I knew I'd fail. It was terrifying. It was grand.
There's more goings on from that night- it went on into the afternoon- but that's enough. I think it serves to make it clear how, in one single night, I freaked out and couldn't handle the fact that I went to school to get a Masters in something it turned out I loathed. I hadn't gotten that drunk in years, maybe ever. It made me remember that I like having fun and being rambunctious and loud, and mostly not trying to pretend that I know what the fuck is going on and that I'm in control and I don't feel like acting mature. Because people, let me assure you- let the photo assure you- I am not.
Suz & Brandy in Wales, 1995.
This was taken in the huge Cathays Park in Cardiff's Civic Center the day after I drank 10 ciders, passed out, and hit the back of my head on the brick landscaping, splitting it wide open. I had to be rushed to the hospital and was given stiches. Socialized medicine is great, especially when you're a drunk moron who gives yourself concussions that are the potential cause of your diagnosed-later-in-life seizure disorder. Don't let anyone tell you differently.
Monday, April 04, 2005
I posted this list of words most commonly misspelled over my desk. While staring off into space thinking about anything but work, I absentmindedly noticed that it has, upon closer inspection, a very intriguing theme (even when the words are in no particular order):
privilege
accommodate
liaison
occurrence
minuscule
embarrassment
judgment
drunkenness
privilege
accommodate
liaison
occurrence
minuscule
embarrassment
judgment
drunkenness
Can I Just Tell You...
...that "Everybody's Changing" by Keane is one of those perfectly harmonized songs that just seizes your heart up and makes you have a pseudo-orgasm when you listen to it at top volume on your headphones, drunk, on the subway? And when I say "you" I mean "me".
Oh...I told you? Like, 27 times? Loudly, with most of the consonants slurred? My bad.
Oh...I told you? Like, 27 times? Loudly, with most of the consonants slurred? My bad.
"It's the day of the show, ya'll!"
This weekend was haunted!!!
Not really, but I saw a medium today for the first time and I am freaked out. So much so that I had to drink a lot of red wine. Good plan.
Now I am listening/singing to "Street Life" from the Jackie Brown soundtrack.
ITEM: MAKING OUT IS AWESOME.
Here is a list of girls I want(ed) to make out with:
1) Meredith Something or other, the actress from "Journey of Natty Gann"
2) Angelina Jolie in everything but mostly, in "Gia" and most of all in "Foxfire"- holy cats.
3) Claire Forlani just in general, except she is a bit short for me, since I am a huge tall monster. But her mouth!
4) Parker Posey in "Dazed & Confused"
5) Catherine Keener in "Being John Malkovitch"
I just re-read this and it seems I am attracted to dark haired, mid-height women. Just FYI, ladies.
There are more but I am drunk, tired, and full of Irish superstision over dabbling in the dark arts (as Sara says) and therefore, so skeeved out. So I shall listen to Kenny Loggins singing "This Is It" and finish off this bottle of wine. Solid!
Why, if you want to hit on me, would you choose to yell at me, "Damn! You jigglin', baby!". Do I seem like the type of woman who really responds to that particular figure of speech? I'd just like to know. I know this much: it is not something you expect or want to hear as you're walking from the L.I.R.R. to the M.T.A. late Sunday night, dressed not unsimilarly from a gay P.E. teacher, sans whistle. I mean, seriously, guy- I am fairly certain I had on Mom jeans.
Not really, but I saw a medium today for the first time and I am freaked out. So much so that I had to drink a lot of red wine. Good plan.
Now I am listening/singing to "Street Life" from the Jackie Brown soundtrack.
ITEM: MAKING OUT IS AWESOME.
Here is a list of girls I want(ed) to make out with:
1) Meredith Something or other, the actress from "Journey of Natty Gann"
2) Angelina Jolie in everything but mostly, in "Gia" and most of all in "Foxfire"- holy cats.
3) Claire Forlani just in general, except she is a bit short for me, since I am a huge tall monster. But her mouth!
4) Parker Posey in "Dazed & Confused"
5) Catherine Keener in "Being John Malkovitch"
I just re-read this and it seems I am attracted to dark haired, mid-height women. Just FYI, ladies.
There are more but I am drunk, tired, and full of Irish superstision over dabbling in the dark arts (as Sara says) and therefore, so skeeved out. So I shall listen to Kenny Loggins singing "This Is It" and finish off this bottle of wine. Solid!
Why, if you want to hit on me, would you choose to yell at me, "Damn! You jigglin', baby!". Do I seem like the type of woman who really responds to that particular figure of speech? I'd just like to know. I know this much: it is not something you expect or want to hear as you're walking from the L.I.R.R. to the M.T.A. late Sunday night, dressed not unsimilarly from a gay P.E. teacher, sans whistle. I mean, seriously, guy- I am fairly certain I had on Mom jeans.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
$2 Tecate in cans with lime.
I have had a lovely day, a la Bill Withers (used 5 years or so ago as a Gap commercial background song). I had brunch, I watched the Virgin Suicides and drooled over the makeout scene under the bleachers to "Strange Magic", I painted my nails, I played with Nigel, and I made myself a delicious dinner. Now I am preperaing to write a book review and go to bed.
This photo sums up my behavior at the end of a long, long night last evening. It represents inadvertently crank calling Kevin Allison and singing the "Petland Discounts" jingle, and also moving my zone of shame. Oh, and in loudly recounting to all who would hear the delightful story of sitting in someone with a boner's lap.
This photo sums up my behavior at the end of a long, long night last evening. It represents inadvertently crank calling Kevin Allison and singing the "Petland Discounts" jingle, and also moving my zone of shame. Oh, and in loudly recounting to all who would hear the delightful story of sitting in someone with a boner's lap.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Totally Crushed Out!*
-----Original Message-----
From: Anne
To: Brandy, Sara
Date: 4/1/2005 3:48:14 PM
Subject: bored
i'm sooooooooo bored. i've been doing mindless data entry,
which i don't care about, but i'm ready to go blow off some
steam. nothing ever happens on mars! boring! boring!
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
To: Anne, Sara
Date: 4/1/2005 3:50:14 PM
RE: bored
Anne I am NUTS, I'm on friendster cracking out, and [MUTUAL UNATTAINABLE CRUSH] is online!!!!!! I want to like, add him as a friend but I also want to retain a kernel of dignity. Hmmm....let's see who wins this round.
-----Original Message-----
From: Anne
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 3:54:02 PM
Subject: RE: bored
dude, just friendster him. come on. it will be hilarious.
then 5 minutes later sara and i will request to be his friend.
he intimidates me with his giant appendage!
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 3:56 PM
To: Sara ; Anne
Subject: FW: RE: bored
No way I'm not going first. Sassy, I DARE you to do it!
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:13:19 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
But my head is sayin' 'fool forget him',
yet my heart is saying 'don't let go'
Hopelessly devoted to you...
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 4:14 PM
To: Sara
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Are we in 4th grade?!
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:15:45 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Oh no. It's official. We are.
Do you get butterflies when you see him? I do
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 4:18 PM
To: Sara
Subject: RE: RE: bored
I DO!!! I freaked out when I saw him at the show, didn't you?!
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:19:29 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
There's something about him...he's very sexy in a date-rapey sort of
way....well actually no that would be dan's friend who isn't
really sexy at all...just date rapey
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 4:23 PM
To: Sara Allocco
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Yeah, like, he would look you straight in the eye and tell you to take
off your panties in a very calm, menacing tone. And you'd do it and
he'd say, "That's a good girl".
OK, I have to go masturbate now.
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:28:58 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Holy shit!! My ween tingles a little!!
*with much respect to that dog.
From: Anne
To: Brandy, Sara
Date: 4/1/2005 3:48:14 PM
Subject: bored
i'm sooooooooo bored. i've been doing mindless data entry,
which i don't care about, but i'm ready to go blow off some
steam. nothing ever happens on mars! boring! boring!
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
To: Anne, Sara
Date: 4/1/2005 3:50:14 PM
RE: bored
Anne I am NUTS, I'm on friendster cracking out, and [MUTUAL UNATTAINABLE CRUSH] is online!!!!!! I want to like, add him as a friend but I also want to retain a kernel of dignity. Hmmm....let's see who wins this round.
-----Original Message-----
From: Anne
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 3:54:02 PM
Subject: RE: bored
dude, just friendster him. come on. it will be hilarious.
then 5 minutes later sara and i will request to be his friend.
he intimidates me with his giant appendage!
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 3:56 PM
To: Sara ; Anne
Subject: FW: RE: bored
No way I'm not going first. Sassy, I DARE you to do it!
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:13:19 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
But my head is sayin' 'fool forget him',
yet my heart is saying 'don't let go'
Hopelessly devoted to you...
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 4:14 PM
To: Sara
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Are we in 4th grade?!
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:15:45 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Oh no. It's official. We are.
Do you get butterflies when you see him? I do
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 4:18 PM
To: Sara
Subject: RE: RE: bored
I DO!!! I freaked out when I saw him at the show, didn't you?!
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:19:29 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
There's something about him...he's very sexy in a date-rapey sort of
way....well actually no that would be dan's friend who isn't
really sexy at all...just date rapey
-----Original Message-----
From: Brandy
Sent: Friday, April 01, 2005 4:23 PM
To: Sara Allocco
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Yeah, like, he would look you straight in the eye and tell you to take
off your panties in a very calm, menacing tone. And you'd do it and
he'd say, "That's a good girl".
OK, I have to go masturbate now.
-----Original Message-----
From: Sara
To: Brandy
Date: 4/1/2005 4:28:58 PM
Subject: RE: RE: bored
Holy shit!! My ween tingles a little!!
*with much respect to that dog.
Brandy and Sara Are on a Rampage.
I will give you a shiny dollar if you can guess which of us wrote what on this sweet little note, which was passed back and forth during a casting class we took together this past fall. We sat in the back and glared at most everyone, with the exception of one or two very nice people.
We'll fix you.
Pre-Doom.
I was so happy on this day, I was excited to be with Porter in Pennsylvania, actually doing something instead of sitting on my ass complaining.
I forgot about these pictures and just found them, and this one especially makes me sad. Because I look so happy and hopeful, and in about 12 hours the country was fucked.
I forgot about these pictures and just found them, and this one especially makes me sad. Because I look so happy and hopeful, and in about 12 hours the country was fucked.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)