Like Traffic & Weather.

If you look close, you may be able to find a very drunk myself & Matt Sears, my dream date for this 100 person only concert on the deck of the Ship Peking at the South Street Seaport. Seriously can everyone just worship the amazing songwriting stylings of Fountains of Wayne RIGHT NOW THIS MINUTE?!? Thanks for that.

Sean Crespo Has No Prior Knowledge: America's Next Top Model.

My pal Sean asked me to come act like a turd for his very funny vlog at Television Without Pity. And wouldn't you just know- I did! Also this is not a picture of me but it is what came up when I typed "stupid models" into Google Image! WACKY ALERT!!!

Anyways please click over and check it out, they don't have an embeddable player so you have to make a quick trip to the site but GODAMMIT I AM FUCKING WORTH IT YOU SELFISH, ARROGANT TOAD!!!!!!

Ewww. Gross.

Songs What I Forgot: You're The Biggest Part Of Me, Ambrosia

I have been on the phone all god-damned day for work and just now, when I got to the part where I was seriously about to SCREAM if I had to be on it for one more second and as I was on hold for yet another fucking 10 minutes, suddenly, this song came on on soothed the savage beast. This is AM Gold in its purest form and it makes me very, very happy and giddy and much less likely to tell the person on the other end of the phone to do as I say before I reach down their throat and punch them in the fucking heart. And hey, you can't hate an appearance by Merv Griffin, everyone's favorite elevator killer.

GO TO A BAR RIGHT NOW AND ORDER AN ABSOLUT VODKA.

I am no corporate whore. But when it comes to comedians who I respect to the utmost, I may or may not change my tune. Absolut Vodka, I will buy your god-damned product because you gave Zach Galifianakis money to do an ad for you, with the caveat that he got to do whatever he wanted. And then, there was magic. Well done.

If you do not like Tim & Eric, then your name is Porter and you are my mean old roommate.

Thanks to Jos for this.

It Breaks My Heart, So Hard.

Such is Ready For The Floor by UK folk-synth dance sensations Hot Chip. This song is so perfect in so many ways. When I hear it it makes me almost want to cry because it's such a chorus of pure joy, and fun and that one night you went out with your friends and got wasted to the perfect place where you were trashed but were in no danger of puking and you danced all night with the hottest tall guy ever who may or may not have been an Olympic volleyball player and then made out on the dance floor like you were on the deck a sinking ship and then you went to Del Taco, ate a shit-load of food with their dope green sauce on it, walked home and passed out in your awesome comfy bed- and woke up only mildly hung over because you drank a lot of Dr. Pepper before you went to sleep. And also you had an easily hidden but very much enjoyed hickey.

SERIOUSLY though, Why is it the Europeans can craft so many perfectly fearless shameless awesome anthems to getting out and just fucking dancing your ass off?! What is the hang up in America about this? Cut the yappin' and get to scratchin', people (ewwww, I admit I went too far there). I wonder if it's rooted in homophobia (re: ballet/dancing is for "fags"-sad, ignorant thinking that I hate to admit some people do), and/or some sort of puritanical distrust of anything remotely fun involving the human body, like some sort of slimy residue left over from from the early "settlers".

All I know is that when I watch this video and see that adorable scamp dancing his ass off in a 1/2 a Joker costume, I feel sad for everyone else who's missing out on this band and on that choice to go out and just shake a fucking tail-feather. Will someone please introduce me to a hot tall British man who has an unapologetic love of old school hip hip, 70's-early 90's r&b and new-wave dance magic? Because right about now, I think they are kind of like fabled unicorns in which I catch a glimpse of them out of the corner of my eye and then they're gone, galloping away with my palpitating heart.

Anyways you should go out and buy all the Hot Chip albums, right now.

**3 Things Learned The Hard Way**

Thanks to my homey, E-Ski for this one.

1. You Teach People How To Treat You.

If someone walks all over you and you say it's OK, they'll do it again and again. You're saying "I'm not worth it, you don't have to respect me." While I'd like to think everyone that I care for would return that adoration by being respectful of boundaries, the fact is that the world just doesn't work that way. It's not easy when you're someone who always wants everyone to "like" you as I once did, to my own detriment. It's VERY Hard to confront people when you want very much for things to always be smooth sailing. But once you start doing it, it gets a helluva lot easier to say "You know what, you're being a dick. Cut it out or take a hike." This goes as much for romantic relationships as with friendships, natch.

2. Never apologize for liking what you like.
I have loved the movie Xanadu since I saw it when I was 6 years old. It makes me happy. In a world full of lies, bullshit and evil it is one of a handful of things that just transports me to somewhere fun and safe and enchanting. Is it a god-damned Ingmar Bergman masterpiece? No. Does it feature the lead from the Warriors AND an Australian country-Western singer gone pop mainstream superstar on roller skates? Hell, yes. And that right there is, to me, priceless. For so long, I felt kind of bad about this- especially in New York, the land of film school refugees clad in black cargo pants, Adidas Sambas and sporting goatees, who all want to reference Kurosawa while subtly stroking the semi-hard boner they've once again given themselves under the table. You know what? I want that time back. I want that time I wasted being unfair to myself to try and "fit in" with a bunch of cretins BACK. Point being- don't waste yours not being yourself.

3. Being financially independent is very, very attractive.
Rich people who were born with $100 bills jammed up their assholes are not financially independent. People who settle into marriages and proclaim they're totally happy being "stay at home Moms/Dads"- unless they have a couple of years of savings in the bank- aren't, either. Being financially independent to me means simply that you live within your means and you know what's going on with your money at all times. Not obsessive- not checking what Jim Cramer said about stocks on your iPhone every 5 minutes. And not blowing through cash like a drunken lottery winner from an Alabama trailer park in the K-Mart. And while we're at it, not going out to bars and waiting around trying to get drinks bought for you. Add that to the list. Buying your own fucking drinks and having enough cash to do so- now that is something. How about buying a round for a really great group of pals, just because? Because that's the kind of shit people who are financially independent can do because they know what the hell is up. They know when to spend and when to save. They don't whine about having no money and then eat out every night and expect you to, too. Nope. They know when rent is due and don't go out on a spending spree right before, and they have a $1 hot dog when needed without complaint to make sure that bills are paid on time. It's not quite cheap- because they are not stingy per se. They are sensible. Just being in charge of your financial well-being is great. And letting other people do it for you or influence you, that is lame.

Where Are Your Manners?

Dear everyone,

It is just not nice, nor fair to take a hidden video of me lumbering around, squeaking thru yet another red-wine induced hangover. Shame on you.

Signed,

Me.

For Those Who Still Think It Exists.

Hard To Live In The City, Albert Hammond Jr. (Live)



New York, New York, Cat Power (Live)



New York, I Love You, LCD Soundsystem

#2: Use A Strategy For Happiness.

Today's entry in my new book obsession told me figure out what I wanted and then, develop a strategy to go after it. So here were my thoughts. Enjoy them in all their vapid splendor.

1. Put together an awesome outfit of muted charcoals and black, giving me plenty of leeway to prance about wearing my gold foil spike heels (which I may have ruined after Thanksgiving when I stepped in mud and demanded this be photographed as some sort of yuppie commentary on Williamsburg's condo explosion. I had had a lot to drink. Clearly.)



















2. Listen to 50% more Chromeo (always a mood enhancer- "Fancy Footwork" will change your whole day)



















3. Get my hair cut to morph into one that more closely resembles that of lovely Karen Elson (after all she managed to snag Jack White with it so it's obviously a winner).

Come On, Get Happy (dipshit).

In an effort to balance my hectic life I have decided it is now time for me to re-read a book I grabbed a few years back. It's called The 100 Simple Secrets of Happy People, by David Niven and I recall really enjoying it when I read it before. As I read each entry I think I will try to reflect on it in my blog, albeit probably in a really angry, mean way. I'm always true to myself, after all. THAT is a constant.

Today's entry was: Your Life Has Purpose & Meaning. Which, after initially reading, I scrawled simply, "What is my purpose?" I kind of want to pinch myself really hard right now, hard enough to leave bruise marks. And I'd also kind of like to know the answer. I know this, as of a few weeks ago it stopped being "to get really drunk and act like a jerk-face to the amusement of whoever happened to be close enough to hear my yammering".


What about you, dear readers? Do you know your purpose? Do tell.

Ain't Love A Kick?

My pal Alty featured a link to this heart-warming, delightful article on her blog and I had to share. Sometimes I am sad that I haven't met the right person to be my husband yet...and then I read this, and darned if it didn't fill me with hope. So for all you love birds out there, enjoy!

MOUNT CLEMENS, Michigan (AP) -- A man who killed and dismembered his wife was sentenced Thursday to serve at least 50 years behind bars by a judge who called his actions "demonic."

Stephen Grant choked his wife, Tara, to death, then cut up her corpse in a machine shop. After the killing, he tearfully told reporters he wasn't involved in her disappearance.

"Stephen Grant is evil personified," Prosecutor Eric Smith said.

Grant, on the advice of his lawyer, did not speak during the sentencing.

A jury found him guilty in December of second-degree murder. Prosecutors had sought a first-degree murder conviction, but the jury could not unanimously agree that Grant's actions were premeditated.

The defense was seeking a sentence of 15 to 25 years. But Macomb County Circuit Judge Diane Druzinski agreed with the prosecution recommendation of a sentence of 50 to 80 years for the killing.

The judge called Grant's actions "demonic, manipulative, barbaric and dishonest." Grant also received six to 10 years for mutilating the body, to run concurrently with the longer sentence.

Grant, 38, showed little emotion during the hearing, although he looked troubled as Alicia Standerfer, Tara Grant's sister, described how the couple's two young children are struggling with the loss of their mother at the hands of their father.

"He's so much of a coward, he doesn't even look me in the eye in the courtroom," Standerfer said afterward.

Grant contacted the Macomb County sheriff's department on February 14, 2007, and said he had not seen his 34-year-old wife, an operations manager for a large construction firm, since they argued February 9 about her frequent business trips overseas.

On March 2, after allowing deputies with a search warrant inside his home, Grant borrowed a friend's pickup truck and drove away. The deputies found Tara Grant's torso in a container in the garage.

Authorities picked up Grant's trail by tracking cell phone calls that led them to Wilderness State Park, more than 200 miles north. He was found hiding under a tree and wearing only a shirt, slacks and socks in 14-degree weather.

During the trial, a jury heard a graphic, three-hour recorded confession Grant gave while being treated for frostbite and hypothermia at a hospital. They also heard testimony from the Grants' nanny, who said she had sex with Grant the night before he strangled his wife.

Copyright 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. (except in my blog so suck it)

Songs What I Forgot: You Give Good Love, Whitney Houston.

This song is the jam. This song, which I have had on repeat since roughly 2:30 PM or so today, makes me want to leave my desk right now, report directly to a happy hour, shotgun 3-5 glasses of a reasonably priced pinot noir, and then slow dance up close and personal like with someone, maybe let's say, someone I work with who may or may not have a girlfriend. Our actions together could include a ratty old b&w photo booth in the, oh I don't know, the Lakeside Lounge and the results would ensure that by week's end, he DEFINITELY would not have a girlfriend. This is not to say he'd become my boyfriend. I'd be too hungover to listen to him whining about how he thought he may have made a mistake to offer any sympathy or even my couch since his ass was kicked out of their Park Slope co-op- because no one and I repeat, NO ONE is moving into the Barber household until he does so by being legally married to my ass. No thunks.

Instead I'd fix a glare on him, blow a plume of smoke in his face and say "What do you want me to do about it, cupcake?" in a sort of raspy, exhausted Faye Dunaway voice- one that sounded like a come-on and a death threat at once, coated in honey and edged with a razor-y rasp. And that would be that.

Thanks Whitney, and thank you alcohol. You make things work out so nicely.

This was rediscovered as a direct result of my friend Wendy Ho and a delightful tribute to her from a sexy, sassy gal named Jazzmun. I am a new forever fan and plan to drop in to Club Cobra on my next California sojurn. Fierce, fabulous and oh, so Whitney-riffic- check out that link for a rendition to remember.

Songs What I Forgot: Bad Boy, Miami Sound Machine

Wow. I mean, WOW.

My roommate Porter and I were discussing Miami Sound Machine the other night, do not ask me why (I was late for a wedding shower but could not resist the dissection of their first hit CD Primitive Love, which my Dad owned). And we both recalled this song gem with delight and fondness. It would be an understatement to say I absolutely used to LOVE this song. Surely, it was used in every mixed boys & girls dance class for the recital circa 1984, no? Because it sure as hell was in mine. "Bad" being the operative term.

Enjoy the alternate cast of "CATS", or, if the very suggestion of human adults clad in spandex and fake fur would cause you to have nightmares for the remainder of your earthly life, click here for an alternate take of the video (because one is NEVER enough when it comes to Gloria Estafan, people. GET IT RIGHT). Up to you.

Happy Valentine's Day!

An oldie but, a goodie!

Enjoy your day.

Also I am too lazy/busy/sick to write, sorry.

xoxoxo,

Me.

Honey's Bunnies @ The Kissing Booth [Uber NSFW]

Thanks to all our fella comedian friends who came out for this and horrified/delighted us.

Enjoy!

The Kissing Booth: TONIGHT!

The Kissing Booth presents: The Kissing Booth After, After-Dark

Friday, January 25th, 2008

THE TANK
279 Church Street between Franklin and White
Doors at 11:30pm

**Admission this month is FREE!
**Basement Dance Party to follow show with $3 Beers 'Til Dawn
**PLUS: FREE Shot if you arrive dressed in pajamas!

This month your hosts Brandy & Sara bring you an homage to Hugh Hefner's classic program Playboy After Dark, Kissing Booth style. Come be part of a hip, swinging bachelor-ette party, the kind of bash where guests drop in to chat, while cool people lounge in their swanky cocktail clothes exchanging bright ideas and being all jive. Show up in your own pajamas and you get a free shot. Join us for what is sure to be a night of smoking jackets, cognac, and suave, sophisticated sexism. And look who's going to drop by to mix and mingle:

JOHN F. O'DONNELL (host of Kingdom of Heaven, Comedy Central's Fresh Faces of Comedy)

GREG JOHNSON (host of the Greg Johnson & Larry Murphy Show)

Videos from GORDON & LUBELL ( www.Stashwax.com)

PLUS: Candy, dancing, men in bunny ears, shamelessness, and pictures of you looking all sizzling hot taken by our incredibly talented co-hort Nathan Kloke ( www.nathankloke.com ). And maybe, just maybe, a real live Kissing Booth!

http://www.myspace.com/thekissingboothnyc

Cost: FREE!

Official Site: http://www.myspace.com/thekissingboothnyc

Dance Dance Party Party!!

Dance Dance Party Party (DDPP) is more than a dance party, it's a mother-effin' revolution! As seen in the pages of Time Out NY and Bust Magazine, this weekly NYC all-female jam fest something that I think you should check out very soon. And look here...

Laura House from Bust Magazine says:

Now in its second year in N.Y.C., DDPP has recently cropped up in Chicago and L.A. as well. No matter where the party starts the format is the same. It's held in a dance studio (everyone throws in $6-$8 for rental costs), lights are dimmed, and a 90-minute ipod set of stellar jams is cranked. A light machine spins in the corner as women spin through the room in their own blissful orbits, free from greasy guys leering or hipster chicks throwing 'tude. 'It feels weird at first, [co-organizer Glennis] McMurray says, 'but it's also awesome because you're with a bunch of other women having a bonding experience.' There is no formal instruction at DDPP, but there can be moments of what McMurray calls 'spontaneous choreography,' when participants can't resist restructuring famous steps like the zombie moves from 'Thriller,' or the 'Maniac' routine from Flashdance. 'The best part,' says McMurray, 'is when people are shy [at first] and then they get started and realize this really is an environment where no one is going to stare or judge.'"

To learn more about DDPP NY and our other locations visit www.dancedancepartyparty.com!

Cost: $6-$8

Official Site: http://www.dancedancepartyparty.com

My pals Glennis and Marcy are at the helm of this and I wanted to help spread the word- and so should you! Tell other lady pals to come on out and shake a tailfeather at DDPP. It just sounds like magical fun, now doesn't it?!?

I have been very sick.

And so I have been on the couch, coughing up significant chunks of lung and drinking lots and lots and lots of broth. So much so, that I never want to have a bowl of soup, ever again. Even though laughing makes me have a hacking fit that ends in me wheezing uncontrollably for breath, I had to watch various episodes of this show, and I cannot stop howling with laughter at this fine commercial in general.

Do yourself the favor of checking Tim & Eric Awesome Show Great Job out. Life-changing.

Songs What I Forgot: Debut Edition!

OK, so this came out when I was 14 and this, combined with a lot of "Need You Tonight" by INXS and my first sighting of a very young, very beautiful Keanu Reeves having fumbling sex in a sleeping bag in the terrifying cornerstone of stark 1980's teen angst films River's Edge was way too much for me to handle. HUMP OVERLOAD!!! I used to listen to this song a lot, so much in fact that I began to hate it and the CD it was off of. Which if I recall, was an early entry into my already budding collection that boasted the Eurythmics and Elvis Costello and the Attractions (OK that one may have been my Dad's but I liked to pretend it was mine).

Recently, I was out getting ridiculously drunk due to the open bar I was presented with starting at 5 PM during a producing showcase I attended with my frequent troublemaker and co-producer Alty. Sadly we decided we "needed" a nightcap (OK again, just me) and went to the nearby Slainte, where this song came on and I was pleasantly reminded of it being the jam and all. This version, with the fantastic MC Lyte guesting, is the sickest. Enjoy.

Check out my bird.

So much to say and so bad at making the effort to do so. Sheesh. Perhaps this classy album cover can sum it up for me.

Nope, nope. Cancel that.

Hope everyone's New Year 2008 is going swimmingly. I myself have gone on a money diet and re-quit smoking. My cat had to have an enema and I am attempting to not be so negative and mean all the time.

Maybe I will write more later. Maybe I will not. OK, I will, we all know I totally will. Guys, don't go throwing yourself off a bridge in despair.

One thing that I've been meaning to do it to take this blog apart, removing a slew of old posts that no longer need to be accessible to the public eye. As I'm doing this month by month, scanning the archives, I promise to try and be better about frequent updates. And wave goodbye to anything where you can make anything other than a vague ID on me, because the trail of electronic litter is coming to a much needed end. Know that.