Friday, March 14, 2008
Funnee
For some reason I can't link to the thing on Funny or Die that you should be watching, but go over there and put Brookdale Mayoral Debate into the search. Enjoy!
Stop and smell the unicorns.
As I have noted here before, I have a site for a short I made with some friends a while ago @ unicornbaby.com. On this site, my friend Kate wrote that unicorns are racist because they are white. Every once in a while, I get one of these awesome emails.:
From: [redacted]
Subject: I find what you have written insulting to all unicorn lovers
Date: March 13, 2008 6:58:11 PM PDT
To: unicornbaby@mac.com
you might wanna check your facts before you post lies.try looking around. unicorns are not just white. they are black, pink purple, blue and many other colors. I should know I have a collection of several THOUSAND piecesand pictures!!!
I love that she got so excited at the end and ran her words together. I love that she wants me to "look around" at all the unicorns. I am pretty sure I am leaving my husband for this email. I want to be together with this email forever.
From: [redacted]
Subject: I find what you have written insulting to all unicorn lovers
Date: March 13, 2008 6:58:11 PM PDT
To: unicornbaby@mac.com
you might wanna check your facts before you post lies.try looking around. unicorns are not just white. they are black, pink purple, blue and many other colors. I should know I have a collection of several THOUSAND piecesand pictures!!!
I love that she got so excited at the end and ran her words together. I love that she wants me to "look around" at all the unicorns. I am pretty sure I am leaving my husband for this email. I want to be together with this email forever.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Lady-blogging.
Usually, I like to make the ha-has. Or at least the rueful smirk. Or at the very least the eyeroll and the click away to another site.
But this whole Silda Spitzer thing, which seems to be garnering as much attention as the whole prostitute thing, has gotten me thinking. And by "Silda Spitzer thing," I mean her decision to go to the press conferences and stay with her husband and not imbed the heel of a shoe into that crazy fuck of a husband's face. And what a face it is. Scrunched up, gleaming with pleasure at his own cleverness, bobbing on that lanky body like the dot on an upside-down exclamation point. He looks harmless, law-abiding, do gooder-ish. No one that looks like Don Knotts zipped inside a Paul Scheer suit could possibly be so, well, gross.
And maybe it is his look that reminds me most of my own cheating-boyfriend-past. Mine was also tall and lanky. He was baby-faced and kind-looking. His face was scrunched, although handsomer because he was, after all, an aspiring actor.
And I was shocked to find out that he had slept around on me -- not because our relationship was good. It was broken from the start, we split up every three or four weeks. I had the feeling he was embarrassed to have me meet his friends, and then that feeling was replaced by the creepier notion that perhaps he essentially had no friends.
And the brokenness was also my fault. I was young. I had low self-esteem. In the reverse of Alvy Singer, I wanted to belong to ANY club that would take me as a member. I instructed my partners in the ways they could be cruel to me. "You don't really like me but you want to sleep with me? Okay! I am so cool with that."
The only thing surprising about the fact that this guy cheated on me was that I was surprised by it. But whenever we hit a rocky patch, he would say something like, "I know we're having trouble, but I haven't even held hands with another girl since we started dating."
I took that at face value because, you know, why not?
And then, and here's the part where I finally get to the point, after finding out about the cheating with numerous girls, including friend-ish types, I stayed with him. For three months. And here's as close as I can get to an explanation. I think I wanted to stick around to see him sweat, to see him grovel, to see him squirm. I thought the cheating was a reflection of me, and I wanted that image to go away. I wanted it to be replaced by something else. I wanted him to tell me what I was worth. I wanted him to say he made a terrible mistake. And he said it over and over. And you know what? That really did make me kinda feel better. Later in life, I would learn how to do that myself --but not yet. And I hadn't had that ah-hah moment where you realize guys like that are just guys like that.
The light started peeking through when I asked him, on another long night of harangues and tears, why he had really broken up with the girl before me. Having lately learned the art of confession, he said that he had cheated on her too.
And then I could see sweeping behind him a long chain of pretty and serviceable girls, each tossed aside for the next, each to him the same -- perfectly okay but not quite perfect. He was like a kid walking down a beach collecting shells. Selecting and abandoning them on a whim when his hands got too full.
We broke up for good one afternoon. I had told him I thought we oughta split. He begged me to reconsider. And I mean begged. I finally said fine, come over and we can talk about it.
I was met with a long silence and then, "Well, I can't right now. The Laker game is coming on."
Really, honestly, as far as break-up stories go, you have to admit that's a heck of a great exit line.
I hung up, and stopped taking his calls and emails. About a month later I was driving inland on the 10. I had started dating a guy who lived outside the city. My phone rang, and there was the ex, wanting to hash it all out again. I told him that I was on my way to an appointment and I had to go.
"I love you," he said hopefully. And I could have said a bunch of stuff about how false that was, but instead I grinned and just said what he wanted to hear.
Oh sure, uh huh, "I love you too," I said.
And then, from him, "I think, you know, in a couple of years it will work out between us."
I can't remember what I said, just something to pacify him. And then I hung up and kept on going.
I didn't give it much thought after that. I was already on my way to somewhere else.
But this whole Silda Spitzer thing, which seems to be garnering as much attention as the whole prostitute thing, has gotten me thinking. And by "Silda Spitzer thing," I mean her decision to go to the press conferences and stay with her husband and not imbed the heel of a shoe into that crazy fuck of a husband's face. And what a face it is. Scrunched up, gleaming with pleasure at his own cleverness, bobbing on that lanky body like the dot on an upside-down exclamation point. He looks harmless, law-abiding, do gooder-ish. No one that looks like Don Knotts zipped inside a Paul Scheer suit could possibly be so, well, gross.
And maybe it is his look that reminds me most of my own cheating-boyfriend-past. Mine was also tall and lanky. He was baby-faced and kind-looking. His face was scrunched, although handsomer because he was, after all, an aspiring actor.
And I was shocked to find out that he had slept around on me -- not because our relationship was good. It was broken from the start, we split up every three or four weeks. I had the feeling he was embarrassed to have me meet his friends, and then that feeling was replaced by the creepier notion that perhaps he essentially had no friends.
And the brokenness was also my fault. I was young. I had low self-esteem. In the reverse of Alvy Singer, I wanted to belong to ANY club that would take me as a member. I instructed my partners in the ways they could be cruel to me. "You don't really like me but you want to sleep with me? Okay! I am so cool with that."
The only thing surprising about the fact that this guy cheated on me was that I was surprised by it. But whenever we hit a rocky patch, he would say something like, "I know we're having trouble, but I haven't even held hands with another girl since we started dating."
I took that at face value because, you know, why not?
And then, and here's the part where I finally get to the point, after finding out about the cheating with numerous girls, including friend-ish types, I stayed with him. For three months. And here's as close as I can get to an explanation. I think I wanted to stick around to see him sweat, to see him grovel, to see him squirm. I thought the cheating was a reflection of me, and I wanted that image to go away. I wanted it to be replaced by something else. I wanted him to tell me what I was worth. I wanted him to say he made a terrible mistake. And he said it over and over. And you know what? That really did make me kinda feel better. Later in life, I would learn how to do that myself --but not yet. And I hadn't had that ah-hah moment where you realize guys like that are just guys like that.
The light started peeking through when I asked him, on another long night of harangues and tears, why he had really broken up with the girl before me. Having lately learned the art of confession, he said that he had cheated on her too.
And then I could see sweeping behind him a long chain of pretty and serviceable girls, each tossed aside for the next, each to him the same -- perfectly okay but not quite perfect. He was like a kid walking down a beach collecting shells. Selecting and abandoning them on a whim when his hands got too full.
We broke up for good one afternoon. I had told him I thought we oughta split. He begged me to reconsider. And I mean begged. I finally said fine, come over and we can talk about it.
I was met with a long silence and then, "Well, I can't right now. The Laker game is coming on."
Really, honestly, as far as break-up stories go, you have to admit that's a heck of a great exit line.
I hung up, and stopped taking his calls and emails. About a month later I was driving inland on the 10. I had started dating a guy who lived outside the city. My phone rang, and there was the ex, wanting to hash it all out again. I told him that I was on my way to an appointment and I had to go.
"I love you," he said hopefully. And I could have said a bunch of stuff about how false that was, but instead I grinned and just said what he wanted to hear.
Oh sure, uh huh, "I love you too," I said.
And then, from him, "I think, you know, in a couple of years it will work out between us."
I can't remember what I said, just something to pacify him. And then I hung up and kept on going.
I didn't give it much thought after that. I was already on my way to somewhere else.
The Conversation In The Spitzers' Car On The Way Home From The Press Conference
FROM CNN:
'Deeply sorry' Spitzer resigns
New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer said today he is "deeply sorry" that he did not live up to what was expected of him. Spitzer resigned, effective Monday, amid allegations of involvement in a prostitution ring. developing story
INT: LINCOLN TOWN CAR
Eliot Spitzer drives. His wife, Silda, checks her Blackberry.
ELIOT: So, that went okay, I think?
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I mean, considering.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: Hey, how about Britney being on 'How I Met Your Mother?' That oughta be a trainwreck.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I wonder if she and Barney will have a 'slap bet.' That would be funny. Hey, maybe I'll write for TV now. Do a couple of specs. See if I can get an agent. Heh heh.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I'm joking.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I mean, unless you think that's a good idea.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: Did you see those coupons we got for Domino's Pizza? We should get pizza tonight.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I like pizza.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: So. I guess you're still mad about the hookers.
SILDA: ...
SILDA: ...
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I wonder when CSI will have new episodes.
'Deeply sorry' Spitzer resigns
New York Gov. Eliot Spitzer said today he is "deeply sorry" that he did not live up to what was expected of him. Spitzer resigned, effective Monday, amid allegations of involvement in a prostitution ring. developing story
INT: LINCOLN TOWN CAR
Eliot Spitzer drives. His wife, Silda, checks her Blackberry.
ELIOT: So, that went okay, I think?
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I mean, considering.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: Hey, how about Britney being on 'How I Met Your Mother?' That oughta be a trainwreck.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I wonder if she and Barney will have a 'slap bet.' That would be funny. Hey, maybe I'll write for TV now. Do a couple of specs. See if I can get an agent. Heh heh.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I'm joking.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I mean, unless you think that's a good idea.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: Did you see those coupons we got for Domino's Pizza? We should get pizza tonight.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I like pizza.
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: So. I guess you're still mad about the hookers.
SILDA: ...
SILDA: ...
SILDA: ...
ELIOT: I wonder when CSI will have new episodes.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
This is what happens when I go back to having a dayjob. Are you happy now?
Latest News:
Ticker: Exit polls show big racial divide
Will prostitution-linked governor quit?
Experts, colleagues weigh in on Spitzer
Fallon quits as Centcom chief
Gangster held in killing of teen athlete
CNNMoney: Dow soars 417 points
I didn't even know Jimmy Fallon was the Centcom Chief. I bet he got fired for laughing in the middle of war strategy sessions just to draw focus from other officers in the meetings, and they just said he quit.
Ticker: Exit polls show big racial divide
Will prostitution-linked governor quit?
Experts, colleagues weigh in on Spitzer
Fallon quits as Centcom chief
Gangster held in killing of teen athlete
CNNMoney: Dow soars 417 points
I didn't even know Jimmy Fallon was the Centcom Chief. I bet he got fired for laughing in the middle of war strategy sessions just to draw focus from other officers in the meetings, and they just said he quit.
Great Ideas
I have decided to make a pamphlet about menstruation for young girls called "There Will Be Blood." This is a good idea, right?
Also, um, you know what I don't care about? Having a satin-y tampon. Oh my god, I feel classy when I'm using a Tampax Satin. What is the thread count of this tampon? Oh, really? I think I'll give these to my maid then.
But my instructional pamphlet is still a great idea. Also, there will be a companion video where Daniel Day Lewis tells you about your body.
Shallow Thought Of The Day
I was just thinking about people who work on gossip blogs, and how it must be hard to decide whether to run items and all that. And then I thought about how that would make me nervous, and then I thought something like, "Well, I'm not a gossip blogger for the same reason I'm not a doctor. I just don't really want to make decisions that affect other people's lives."
Sometimes, I out-dumb myself.
That said, I hope this is who gives me an emergency appendectomy:
He'd just draw a doodle on it that said WHORE or something, and then draw some white dots coming out of my nose and sew me back up.
Sometimes, I out-dumb myself.
That said, I hope this is who gives me an emergency appendectomy:
He'd just draw a doodle on it that said WHORE or something, and then draw some white dots coming out of my nose and sew me back up.
This is a neat site, and I'm not just saying that because they excerpted my book, I'm saying that because I'm a shallow, self-promoting lady.
Hipster Book Club
Really, though, if you like to read, you might find some neat books to buy. Like mine. HA HA. Just kidding. Why can't I stop? Buy my book. What? Who said that? Okay, no more self-promotion. I love me! And books I write! Ok, seriously, I have to go make posters of myself and then have sex with them.
Hipster Book Club
Really, though, if you like to read, you might find some neat books to buy. Like mine. HA HA. Just kidding. Why can't I stop? Buy my book. What? Who said that? Okay, no more self-promotion. I love me! And books I write! Ok, seriously, I have to go make posters of myself and then have sex with them.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Confession
From CNN:
Anti-epileptic and anti-anxiety medications were detected in a portion of the treated drinking water for 18.5 million people in Southern California.
I'm totally addicted to water now. It's like I need it to live. I wish that someone could help me. It's like I'm crying out but nobody can hear. I have got to get off the junk. Today, I did something I swore I'd never do. I turned a trick because the guy promised he could get me some water. And now I probably have a disease. And the water he gave me was some schwaggy bullshit too. I am so anxious and having so many seizures now. Help me, Dr. Drew Pinsky, I don't even know myself anymore. I want to stop drinking water, but the disease is stronger than me. Okay, I am going to go rob a bank now to get money for water. This is your fault, water. I didn't wanna live like this.
Anti-epileptic and anti-anxiety medications were detected in a portion of the treated drinking water for 18.5 million people in Southern California.
I'm totally addicted to water now. It's like I need it to live. I wish that someone could help me. It's like I'm crying out but nobody can hear. I have got to get off the junk. Today, I did something I swore I'd never do. I turned a trick because the guy promised he could get me some water. And now I probably have a disease. And the water he gave me was some schwaggy bullshit too. I am so anxious and having so many seizures now. Help me, Dr. Drew Pinsky, I don't even know myself anymore. I want to stop drinking water, but the disease is stronger than me. Okay, I am going to go rob a bank now to get money for water. This is your fault, water. I didn't wanna live like this.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
I solved a mystery.
Even though I am retired from the force, I still see a case every once in a while that makes me want to put my detective helmet back on and get out on the streets.
Today was one of those days.
NYPD: Person on bicycle seen near Times Square blast site
By TOM HAYS Associated Press Writer
1:57 PM EST, March 6, 2008
NEW YORK - Police released footage from a private security camera on Thursday showing a cyclist riding up to the Times Square military recruiting station where a small bomb was detonated.
Um, hey police. I know who rides bikes:
You are welcome, again.
Today was one of those days.
NYPD: Person on bicycle seen near Times Square blast site
By TOM HAYS Associated Press Writer
1:57 PM EST, March 6, 2008
NEW YORK - Police released footage from a private security camera on Thursday showing a cyclist riding up to the Times Square military recruiting station where a small bomb was detonated.
Um, hey police. I know who rides bikes:
You are welcome, again.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
You Are Welcome
Okay, I am not saying I am a scientist or anything, but I just invented something that's going to change the world. The hot-dog bong.
AMERICAN DOMINATION IN HOT-DOG EATING CONTESTS IS ABOUT TO BECOME A REALITY.
YOU'RE WELCOME, FREEDOM.
AMERICAN DOMINATION IN HOT-DOG EATING CONTESTS IS ABOUT TO BECOME A REALITY.
YOU'RE WELCOME, FREEDOM.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Too Hot For Radio
Well, it happened! The day every little girl dreams about. The day a radio host in the South actually CANCELS A SCHEDULED INTERVIEW WITH you because your book is "not right for the bible belt."
I was going to get on the air and say "Dildo, dildo, Jesus-dildo," so I guess she pulled out just in time!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
You Are The Wind Beneath My Matted Crepe Dress Shirt, To Be Worn Loose or Tucked In
This isn't one of those blogs where I tell you shit about myself all the time and take pictures of myself in cute outfits, not because I am modest, but because I am boring and ugly.
But yesterday, I got an extremely personal email that really touched me, and I think that I'd like to share it with you.
I hadn't heard from this person in awhile, and I guess I thought they didn't care about me, or even worse that they didn't even really KNOW me. But then this came through, and I realized that *I* was the asshole.
This person and I had gone on a vacation together some years ago, and after we stopped being close, I had deleted all my photos of the trip, but obviously they didn't and they put together this montage of our time together in Barbados with captions that made me realize the depth of this person's care for me, and needless to say we are now back in touch.
Thank you life, thank you love, thank you everyone.
From: tanietssimpson22paivp@hushmail.com
Dear Wendy,
And after that, I was crying, but she didn't stop there, she kept going, making me realize everything I'd been missing out on.
Yes, she knew I wanted to make you appearance known, and more...
If you have a friend or family member that you haven't reached out to in a while, remember that one little email can repair a friendship that you thought was totally broken, and also remember that, as tanietsimpson@hushmail says, Skyway Dr., Bldg 1 Hangar C -- Edgewater FL 32132.
But yesterday, I got an extremely personal email that really touched me, and I think that I'd like to share it with you.
I hadn't heard from this person in awhile, and I guess I thought they didn't care about me, or even worse that they didn't even really KNOW me. But then this came through, and I realized that *I* was the asshole.
This person and I had gone on a vacation together some years ago, and after we stopped being close, I had deleted all my photos of the trip, but obviously they didn't and they put together this montage of our time together in Barbados with captions that made me realize the depth of this person's care for me, and needless to say we are now back in touch.
Thank you life, thank you love, thank you everyone.
From: tanietssimpson22paivp@hushmail.com
Dear Wendy,
And after that, I was crying, but she didn't stop there, she kept going, making me realize everything I'd been missing out on.
Yes, she knew I wanted to make you appearance known, and more...
If you have a friend or family member that you haven't reached out to in a while, remember that one little email can repair a friendship that you thought was totally broken, and also remember that, as tanietsimpson@hushmail says, Skyway Dr., Bldg 1 Hangar C -- Edgewater FL 32132.
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