Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Katrina


It really pisses me off how the Gov of Louisiana is calling for a day of prayer. A day of fucking prayer? Yeah, and while we're at it, let's thank god for the fucking flooding. I'm pretty sure he was on top of that. If god didn't want that to happen, it wouldn't have, so as far as disaster relief, I think you're better off praying to FEMA, the Red Cross or some Coast Guard. It's like god says in my recent reading of the comic book, The Preacher, "I'm a loving god- but don't push it." I'll use the words god and nature interchangeably to refer to the forces that be, and I think that my best guide as to what these forces would say are good or bad- is my instinct. And my instinct tells me that god does as god wants. And if nature wants to humble mankind, nature will.

And I don't think we should take it personally. When we die of old age, we die at the hands of nature- ya know- natural causes. And these are natural causes as well. I'm not wanting to be insensitive here, but a short life is still a life. And if it must end, it must. For those of us who know people who died young- their lives were no less a part of this earth and a part of all of us, and something real, tactile and full, than those who fade out by age. Let the cards fall where they may. But pray to fucking god after he deluges your ass? No, stop fucking with his well made earth by living on the mouth of one of the most powerful rivers in the world. If you're gonna use levees and dykes on a town, do it somewhere like Holland with no fierce bodies of water or annual natural disasters. New Orleans has met its destiny. You cannot inhabit what nature dictates as uninhabitable and not expect anything to go wrong. Not that anyone deserves this pain, except for maybe the developers who knew better all along. And I just don't understand why more people didn't evacuate. We all knew it was coming. The weather channel told me at least. It's just such human arrogance when we think we're so indestructible.
link to PDF of the first few pages of "The Preacher" ,a really amazing comic book
I'm so in love with comic books. I can't believe I've taken so long to shine on to them. There's just nothing quite like their style of storytelling. And you can read all different ones at a time.

Sarah Silverman is always my hero.

Last summer weekend at the beach house is nigh. DOOM! Also, my spam told me today that there is a plan in place to catch the Loch Ness Monster. Cool! Oh, and if y'all are wondering when my next night of stand up will be, the place I like to do it at has a waiting list, so I am pretty much waiting to be scheduled in. There is also a Friday night thing at the UCB theatre I may do, but I dunno about giving up Friday nights- ah well, I can at least go out drinkin and stuff afterwards. I will surely post on this site when the next show will be. I hope soon!

Oh yeah, and my momma is talking to me again. Time heals all wounds. Often the case anyways. Lovin my decision in taking this job. As you can see from some of my newest flickr photos . . .

Monday, August 29, 2005

Don't get mad at me. One of them must die, ok, so you have to choose.

Let's play who must die:

Wallet?

or Puppy?

Ok. That was easy. Puppy.

Let's try again.

Who must die?

Hank Azaria?
or

Baby Panda?

Trick question. The answer is the lady taking care of the Panda.
Thanks for playing who must die.

Mentionables:
On Friday night I got very drunk at Manasquan's beloved Osprey, where I am guaranteed to run into at least 5 people from high school, not usually the same ones. A boy walks up to me,
blah blah blah
Me: I'm from Morris County.
Him: Oh yeah, where?
Me: Small town, Roxbury . . .
Him: Me too!
Me: Oh. What year did you graduate high school?
Him: 98
Me: 99, . . . what's your name?
Him: (Says name)
Me: Oh I remember your name from the year book. (or some crap like that)
Him: And you?
Me: Heather Fink.
Him: Oh yes- I remember you . . .
God what a liar! He looked different. I look about the same. And he was there with other people I knew from high school who knew who I was too. Stinking liar!

So I wondered off. Took me about an hour on line for the bathroom. When I walked out I didn't know where anybody was anymore. So some guy started talking to me, said he's recogonized me from seeing me around Hoboken. I was too drunk to tell if I found him attractive or not, but I wondered around with him anyway. I also knew I was too drunk to put out, but that didn't stop me from putting exhorbitant amounts of sand on his crotch. His clothed crotch. He sat there and allowed me to scoop and place all this sand on his crotch. And when I am drunk I get fixated on things. Like in my mind I was hellbent on scooping up the sand with my hands and piling it on to his crotch. I couldn't control myself. I love the way that sand feels. Get me on the beach and you will see one sandy broad. I don't mind when it gets on my face or all over. I always have a sandy blanket and I don't care. I just love to scoop at the sand with my hands like my insane grandmother used to scoop into piles of shaved ham or sticky buns.

But that's not nearly the most interesting thing about Friday.
When the other girls came home, they found a man sleeping in their bed. Some drunk guy had wondered into our beachhouse and crashed on this one girl's bed. A friend asked him, "What's your name?" "Scott"; "Where do you live?" "Scott!" Long story short, they kicked him out of the house.
_______
As far as Saturday was concerned, a definate highlight was this guy who did a great and rare thing. He started talking to me, noticed I wasn't into him, and quickly gave up and moved on. Excellent. Why don't more guys do this?

Sunday's highlight was shopping! I got some great new shoes and shopping my brains out at this amazing vintage store and got all these great things. I was so in love with this place I think I was exploding. The highlight of my conquests was the purchase of this most beautiful dress that I put on and feel like a magical pretty princess. It looks like the wedding dress Jenny wore in Forrest Gump. I can't wait for some reason to wear it. If I don't get one I am just wearing it out for drinks.

-------
Radiohead's "The Bends" is their best album. I bought that in eight grade after they played "fade out" on the credits of an episode of House of Style back when staying up all night and watching 120 minutes or Alternative Nation dictated my musical picks. Uploading CDs to your ipod is time consuiming, but necessary when you look at your ipod and realize you have no Nirvana or Pearl Jam on it, I mean your lifelong staples are not in there. Soooo last night I shoved in my first CD ever- sooo great- Liz Phair's Whip Smart, Radiohead- The Bends, Pearl Jam- Ten, Nirvana- Unplugged and track 19 on No Alternative, Olive- You're Not Alone, Sleater-Kinney- Call The Doctor, Portishead- Dummy, Ash- 1977, Belly- King, and Rufus Wainwright's first album. I am so pleased.

But was displeased with the VMA's. Diddy is not charismatic. And I don't like the look of MTV Awards these days. The lighting sucks and the fact that they aren't live is boring.

Finally, I must thank my friend David for turning me into an avid comic book reader. I always loved Batman, Spiderman, and X Men from their animated series, and also some of the movies. But those old school comic books suck. However, Ex Machina is one of the greatest things ever, and I just started reading The Preacher, loved it, and next up is Batman "Dark Night". Still reading more issues of Ex Machina and The Preacher. I hate how fast they read though and all the suspense dammit! I like to make it last.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

The OTHER Heather Fink...


This is some scary stuff . . .
Email received this morning:

Hi Heather,

This is going to be a weird/funny email I think....You don't know me, but I have a weird story for you. Just to let you know who I am, I'm a 25 year old girl living in Hoboken, work in manhattan for a software company, nothing too interesting about any of that. Anyway, to the story...

The other day, I was standing outside my office, waiting for a friend to come downstairs. As I was standing there, this guy comes out of my building, and walks by me shouting "Heather! Fink! Heather! Fink!" Really oddly, like, saying the words very separate and staring at me with this weird smile. I'm looking at him, not saying anything, because I have no idea who he is, and why the hell he's yelling at me. I thought maybe it wasn't at me, that I was just paranoid, but then he kept turning back
to look at me, still saying the same thing. I thought it was really weird, but mostly forgot about it. Then TODAY, I'm getting off the path in Hoboken after work, and the same guy gets on, and immediatly starts shouting "HEATHER...! Fink!!!
Heather!! Fink!!" Of course at this point, I really freaked out. I walked home checking behind me the whole time, trying to think of any explanation! I get home and decide to google the name, thinking maybe it's some radio gag or something people are doing, and your website is the first thing that comes up on google. hey.... she lives in hoboken! I scroll down the
page and get to your "I fink therefore I am" picture .... and it looks just like me. Your other pictures -- not so much, but that one, looks *really* similar. How weird is that!?

So anyway, I just thought I'd mail you, partly because I thought you'd find it interesting, and partly because I thought maybe this guy has seen the *real* you around, and has shouted at you as well, and that would pretty much explain it for me, and I could sleep sounder :). Seems a bit too coincidental to be anything else though...

Well, that's it, write back if you want (I'd really like to hear if you know who this guy is or if you've had a problem with him or anything),

(I kept her name annon. cause I didn't hear back as to whether or not she wanted to be annonymous yet . . .)

So who is this mystery man . . . ? Eh?

PS- I just loved this recent Onion headline.

And this isn't a Heather Fink, but it's another Fink, an Orenda Fink.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Aeon Flux Trailer


A trailer for the highly anticipated by me movie Aeon Flux has been released:
Aeon Flux Trailer
The story of Aeon Flux is really exciting, creative and original so there's a strong chance this will be good. But I wonder why they dropped Aeon's famously tiny costume? Charlize is too covered up and I think Aeon's overtly sexual look is a part of her character. Ah well.

And don't worry if Aeon Flux isn't for you. There's always Snakes on a Plane

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The Baxter


I went to a screening of The Baxter last night, and as a long time fan of ex members of "The State", I really wanted to like this movie. Especially since its writer/director/star, Michael Showalter, is my favorite member of that group. But I didn't. I enjoyed it. I laughed here and there. But it really wasn't well done and I was disappointed. I do think it can charm people looking for something lighthearted and sweet, but the mainstream will be tired of its slow pacing and lack of action.

Maybe I've seen too much of their work, maybe I know all of their jokes and their familiar pattern of making fun of things, so it was all tired and old to me. It had such a great premise, but it was plagued by inconsistency and low energy. I really wish he did more with the original concept. It was a nice idea, and it was supposed to be relatable, but Showalter made it far too alien to achieve that. The film begs the question - when the hero guy sweeps a woman off her feet from this other guy (you know, at those speak now or forever hold your peace moments)- what happens to the guy left behind? And the film's tagline is that it is "for anyone who has been dumped". But it never explores what happens after and it never explores being dumped! That's what would have been interesting. Instead, it goes back in time and tells the story of the romance in an entirely played out way.

By far, the most frustrating thing about the movie is that you saw pieces of things that would be a great idea had they been more thoughtfully executed. For me, I have a test that I instinctively apply to anything artistic. I ask if I think I could've done it myself, better if at all. If the ideas behind something are so far beyond something I could have conceived, I will be blown away. But here I found myself thinking of countless, seemingly obvious ways to make this better, via editing the script, and the actual editing of the movie. I don't know what went wrong. Perhaps the seemingly modest Showalter has become over confident?
-
It's highly possible and evident in the Comedy Central version of Stella. The show and videos at the live show was some of the freshest most innovative and exciting comedy I've ever seen. But with the TV show Stella and the Baxter you get a sense of a lack of respect for the intelligence of the audience. Sometimes the jokes even seem far too inside, and there's no desire to include anyone else watching. That fresh energy these guys are capable of is missing, and the results seem trite.

I'm still greatly inspired by the work and career of individuals such as Michael Showalter, David Wain and Michael Ian Black. Former state members have had their hits and misses. Ken Marino has been gracing the screen in bit hot guy parts for the past few years, most notably on later episodes of Dawson's Creek- which I actually stopped watching before he showed up, but caught in reruns while I was unemployed and eating ice cream. Viva Variety failed to inspire me, but later efforts, such as Reno 911, highlighted by strong performances from Thomas Lennon, Ben Garant and Kerri Kenney, have. Here is a group of kids who started making funny in college, and have been able to try their hand at acting, directing, and writing for stage, TV and film, and that's exactly the kind of low key and flexible career in comedy that I aspire to.

In other news: isn't this the stuff cool movies are made of?

Monday, August 22, 2005

I am a writer.

When people ask me what I do I tell them that I want to be a comedy writer. This beautiful New York full of creative and ambitious people, is full of artists who stop me and remind me- no, Heather, you are a writer. And I always forget that which is painfully obviously true to me at least by now. I am a writer.

Of course I am a writer. It’s only been with my words that I was able to stun, mystify and freak out my school teachers for all of my years. I’ve been placed in detention, and received praise and surprisingly accepting attention for the things that I had written and given to my teachers from a very young age, like pre-school. Of course I am a writer, a comedy writer too. I would put on a regular stand up comedy show for my third grade class at Jefferson School. Of course I am a writer. I kept a book of poetry since seventh grade and have books full of all of my pubescent and teenage angst complete with tear soaked ink from all of those splendid moments when life overwhelmed me. Yes of course, it’s the one thing in school that saved my ass when test scores reflected my pathetic lack of effort, the papers. Thank god that I could at least whip out papers that would redeem me from seeming otherwise unknowing and unlearned. How stupid could I have ever been to think I should be anything else.

That is the ultimate thing, that is the number one thing that I know how to do- I know what to say. That self-righteousness- that I have something to say that others should hear- that is because I know that I am in the business of saying things. Being my boyfriend can be a harrowing experience because it means maximum exposure to the truth at all times. In fact the most difficult thing about me is my marriage to the truth and taking things for what they are. At all times I will call things and people who and what they are how I see them, and the most troubling thing about me is -when I tell someone how I really feel- the extent of my awareness of these feelings and the extent to which I will reveal them.

Someone who is involved with me at a deep level will be told the truth at all times and have to deal with someone who is unforgiving in her honest observations. That is if I respect them. And by far that is the thing that my family likes about me the least. That I never sugar coat the things I say and I never hide my opinions of them and their lives negative or otherwise and my lack of sensitivity for people’s disdain for reality is a horrible flaw. It causes me to make people cry and scream when I don’t want them to. I just want them to accept the truth and embrace it- to make better what is flawed- to find a way to love something even when it is broken. I just want the world to exist with open eyes. I want people to know as much as they can about the world as it is truly happening and to experience it as authentically as possible because I want them to distinguish between art and life and to even acknowledge when it is blurred as the mirror of its own self that it naturally is.

I am a writer because typing all of these words makes me feel so fucking good, and it’s doubly exciting that it can penetrate another mind and that a feeling, thought, moment, vibration can actually be shared because of this combination of letters and the existence of this brilliant fucking thing- language. Of course people are amazing, look at what we’ve done. Language and words, what unbelievable art beyond all of god’s creations, this is our own independent creation and we are wonderful. Perfect.

I’d love to give me the fucking finger. There. I just have. Literally actually while sitting here with my legs covered in a wrap made of melted chocolate bars neatly wrapped in nubile and overly salty pieces of olive loaf. I am lying about the legs and the food.

I’ll never shut up because I’ve never had writer’s block. Watch me go on and on and on.

R.I.P. Six Feet Under :(


So let's mention those things in need of mentioning:
Six Feet Under is the best show ever on tv. And that ending was so perfect. Don't read this if you haven't seen it yet- but in the last 10 minutes they actually go through each person's life and show in a montage what important events happen and how and when each one dies. It's so cool! It both made a point, and it makes peace with an audience who doesn't want to part with these amazing characters. A large part of the show is about how life happens, moves, goes on and you can't do anything about that. The final episode to me was about the relationship between freedom and life. It was very important to all characters that they place themselves in a position where they could live freely. Ruth wanted the freedom to be on her own, Rico, the freedom for his family to do things their own way, David, the freedom and closure to build a happy family, Brenda, the freedom to have a family, and of course Claire, the freedom to find herself. And I love that she doesn't marry her "one" until she's older. There's something so appealing to me about becoming your own person in the world and then making room for the love of your life after you've been able to know yourself. I loved these characters. And these actors. They were all so strong. These are the best female characters that there's ever been on television in one show. And these were the most real portrayals of human life I've ever seen in movies or television. It's able to take you to the places inside yourself that you often ignore or forget. And I love how they show more naked men in this show than all the other shows with naked women. How can you not love Ted! He's that rock of a guy that women like me exactly desire. The one who is responsible and knows how to always do the right thing. The conservative to my wild, who will be able to surprise me with openness and silliness. The Ted character, the Ron Livingston in Office Space character, and the Seth Cohen character, are pretty much the archetypes of guys who are "my type".

My weekend- let's see, worked as Script Supervisor/PA on an episode of Sesame Street, the good part was the crew, I like this group of people, the bad part was that there were no muppets or puppets. I really like muppets so I was failry dissapointed. The show was about going to the bathroom and was brought to you by the number 2 and the letter P, seriously. They already filmed the puppety parts on other days. My day was with little children screaming different words for poop and pee.

And finally- Welcome back to school law students . . . those of you who like your Brian report, and like to ask me "How's Brian" and "Have you talked to Brian lately" I suppose that I am happy to inform you that I don't really know or care. I guess I feel good about myself because it used to matter to me where he was, Jersey or otherwise, but when a friend of mine asked me about him on Sunday, I was able to realize, well, school starts for him Monday, surely he's back, and that's something I would've been thinking about. And that it hadn't crossed my mind was something to feel good about. So I guess I've finally transferred into the territory that I don't bring him up and that I don't talk or think about him anymore unless someone asks. And even then don't think I'd have anything interesting to say. Surely he's just living in the most miserable city I know of (Newark), with the biggest psycho douchebag of a roommate I've ever met, and spends his days in the most miserable environment I've ever been in (Seton Hall Law School) where he has the chance of running into the closest thing to satan (Dean Kathleen Boozang) I've ever encountered, and long distance dating some chubby girl. Granted I was chubby too. But chubby is such a fun word to say, I gotta take the chance when the chance comes to. Ah well, the kid likes his misery anyway so to answer the question, yes I'm sure he's fine.

Best part of the weekend was seeing Dara. Dara is great. Here is a song for you:
Yay Dara
You ate my meatstick and you liked it
Yay Dara
You drill at people's teeth and stuff
Yay Dara
You live in Baltimore goddamn it come back to Jersey
Yay Dara
Your boyfriend is hot and you guys like to do it
Yay Dara
Your family is crazy like mine
Yay Dara
We used to think we were Beavis and Butthead in 8th grade
Yay Dara
She tells the best stories
Dara Dara Dara
Do my Dentistry
Dara Dara Dara
(to be sung to the tune of Kelly Clarkson's newest hit single)

Also, I was wondering about this withdrawl of Israeli Jewish people from the Gaza strip- isn't this a major huge big deal? Why aren't people freaking out over this? I don't think I really understand what's going on. Isn't this monumental? I think I need some kind of documentary or news special with black and white pictures to better inform me. Kinda like Ken Burns talkin about the Red Sox, but I want them to talk about this whole Gaza strip deal.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Fire a Cap in My Ass 'n Call me Kip Winger- I would just love to pack me some heat!

still my fave . . .
I love guns. I love in movies when a character gets ready to be some kind of vigilante and they go to some place and stock up on all kinds of cool guns. I think I'd feel sexiest dressed up like Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2, after visiting that place in the desert with lots of weapons. I admire the gun fights in Robert Rodriguez movies like Dusk Till Dawn, Desperado and Once Upon a Time in Mexico (some of the most beautiful gun scenes ever). As a young girl I remember that weird gun Arnold has in Commando with the 4 big holes in it was so amazing, seeing it today fills me with childlike wonder. I envied Jennifer Lopez in Out of Sight when she was given the gift of this beautiful silver looking thing. I don't know what all the guns are called like all the boys who like to play that 007 James Bond video game. But that doesn't mean I like them any less.

Once Upon A Time When J Lo was Cool . . .

Guns are perhaps the finest mechanical creation of man. Art aside, the fact that we have created these devices, of varying shapes and form, that are capable of removing life from things in one second's time, wins my fascination. It's always amazing when humans find their own way of doing "god's" or nature's work. It's raw human power and achievment. It's sexy, strong, and satisfying. And that you can have that kind of power in your hand, it's hot.


But I am big into gun control. It should be really hard to get a gun, and I want anyone who wants to get a gun to have to go through an extensive screening process, and for the dealer to be able to collect detailed information from the buyer, simply because gun violence in the real world is fucking horrible. I don't believe in taking lives and I don't think purposeful violence is cool. But the world turns as it may, and violence and blood are beautiful things. Beautiful in that they are humbling and complex, not that I embrace or enjoy pain in others. Anyhow, I heard there was a shooting range in Hoboken but I think it's closed down now. I would really like to seriously get into shooting as a hobby. I had once thought that simply bringing a gun into the world was bad because someone could accidentally get their hands on it. But I suppose if a person is careful, I dunno. Maybe I'm being selfish. I just want some cold hard steel.
__________________________
As I was reading this article about Steve Carell's new movie, The 40 Year Old Virgin, guest starring darling little hotty pants Paul Rudd, I realized that just thinking about his performance as Brick in Anchorman makes me smile. He's damned damn lovable. He's funny in other things he does, though the American Office makes me wince (wow that's the first time I've ever used that word), he does his best considering he has the stupid task of redoing a perfectly well done and perfectly currently relevant to American culture role- my overly worded obvious point is that the Americans who would embrace The Office are happy enough with Ricky Gervais. Anyhow, Carell makes us realize that deep inside, we all truly love lamp.

I think I forgot to review the movie Tigerland weeks ago when I saw it. Perfect movie. Compelling story, well cast, well acted, well told, beautifully shot, original concept. See it. I loved it. It just happens to have sexy dudes in it too.


Finally, in spite of the fact that I have a blog that talks about me and my world, I have to say, I have no sympathy towards bad websites, blogs, or myspace/friendster pages. Oftentimes there is nothing worse in the world than a cheesy cutsie personal webpage. Forget it, there is nothing more disgusting to me than coming across some webtrash littered with loud colors, a wav file playing in the background, some butterflies, and unneccessary abbreviations and exclaimation points, and quotes like "I am a caring and sensitive girl!!! OMG!". It is nausiating enough living in a world where girls pretend to be cuter and more coi than they truly are because they think boys will like that- must it be translated into html ready form? If I can smell desperation from a webpage, it's freakin sad, but moreso, it's irritating. Nothing makes me want to slap stuff, aside from Peter Krause's fine ass (come on you knew I had to go for that one), like a girl when she's puttin on the cute. Take that same girl and get her in a room with no boys around and you can damn guarantee that bitch will start nagging and whimpering and smearing her damn pms around like those dorks in yogurt commercials. I love other women. I love a lot of other women's webpages. But the kind that I am speaking of, well they should make me a sweater or some cupcakes and shut their darn word holes.

(I almost forgot to mention that I hate when people cut and paste the results of internet quizzes, like . . . - what kind of asshole are you? 69% big asshole . . . you are a freakin douchebag, unlike moderate asshole, who is an asshole with a twist of compassion . . .)

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

I am sniffly and sore throated. This is what I get for being out in that goshdarned Sunday rain.

Doesn't mean I can't link to the bestest post I co-wrote with my boss so far:
Something worksafe about chickens and Madonna.
He's freakin hilarious.

Also, Bret Easton Ellis will be doing a live reading from his new book at Barnes and Noble on 17th st tonight at 7pm

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Proof that celebrities take poops in the woods just like the rest of us . . .



Im-ed today:
JM: but i work for diversity services, helping out minorities who want to be lawyers...and also the disabled....and also academic achievement for those who are failing out its ok...i dont really do anything tho
i made a flyer and i make labels and print out letters, im a male secretary
Me: you would just do anything to fuck a black chick wouldnt you

Asked yesterday:
Me: So I think I am going to go to the Gap after this cause I gained a size after going back on the pill. Need some new pants for work.
ST: So why are you on the pill?
Me: Um . . . come on now. You know.
ST: . . .
Me: I guess I'm an optimist?

IM-ed later about Pamela Anderson Roast:
JM: lisa lampinelli...shes gonna make fun of pam...thats like a turd making fun of a sunset

Did I ever tell you I love Pamela Anderson? I love the show VIP and her column in Jane. I think she's super cool although I think her choice of being in cheesy porn and baywatch is stupid. Though I can't blame her. Hasslehoff. Bitches caint resist.

Finally, life is great. Someone sent us a picture to casting of him sucking his own very large p*nis (I use a star when it's a word I don't want people googling to get here.) Also Im-ed today:
DW:WHAT IF YOU GET SICK OF C*CKS FROM SEEING THEM TOO MUCH?
Me: no. i wont. it makes me like them more

On another note, these comments are getting interesting.

Jerry from Ben and Jerrys will be at the Hoboken Ben and Jerrys this Friday at 4:30- see the bitches flock!!!

Monday, August 15, 2005

I suppose this means that god hates nature


I don't care if they're tasty, crunchy, or formed in the image of the bear- I'll have nothing to do with the likes of them.
My boss said I can/should feel free to disclose where I work here. So, I'll be co-writing some of the entries here: http://www.lucasblog.com/index.html My first entry was "Michael's Mailbox". By co-write I mean that my boss tells me what he wants to say, and then I write it up and punch it up with some fun and jokes. Everybody likes fun and jokes! Except for Montel Williams. That guy is always giving people a hard time. Why can't a person assault somebody without you jumping down their damn back about it Monty? Why so grumpy Monty McGrumpykins? Ugh, Monty McGrumpykins? That reminds me of a name of a teddy bear type mofo, but probably a teddy graham, a stale or soggy one. Yes that's definately the name of a soggy Teddy Graham I am fairly certain. DON'T QUESTION THE LOGIC IT'S JUST THE WAY THINGS ARE.

Brings to mind various feelings similar to being poked with an unneccessary amount of force.

Fucking finally- a female breaks this comedy barrier:
Ellen to host Emmys, next up, oscar hosting, and a good late night talk show- like Conan or Letterman or whatever. The only thing close to this was Rosanne doing MTV awards once. Oh, and I'd like to see maybe even a straight, possibly feminine person do it sometime (do they have Sarah Silverman's phone number? Amy Poehler's? Amy Sedaris? Oh wait a sec, they don't get nearly as much Media attention as their male counterparts, I almost forgot . . .)

Boss- the precious gem of quotes he is today referred to Jessica Simpson as a mainstream p*rnstar. I think he's right on the freakin money.

Last night while wondering around Chinatown with a dearly missed friend, we walked past, stopped, and stared at this: "Feminist" (i.e. Crazy and militant and unpleasant with boobs, rather than truly caring for female empowerment) Jello Wrestling. Definately a good place to stare.

Weekend highlight: Running into the ocean naked (ok well we were all wearing underpants) with my friends on Saturday night. And subsequently walking through Manasquan with a friend to his car to get dry clothes while he wore nothing but a towel at 3 am. My only prior skinny dipping had been in hottubs (mostly my hottub at my rents' house) and pseudo naked on European beaches- that doesn't count I don't think cause it's allowed. Verdict? It's invigorating, but I'll be damned if I didn't get a little sand in my . . . ears.

Friday, August 12, 2005

How you doin

I feel great. As some of you know, I have hated and dreaded doing standup these last few times. Well third time's a charm. Last night was my first good night. it felt right, I felt that people's laughs were genuine and not sympathetic, got feedback, met with other comedians who want to collaborate, and was even told, and I'm quoting, that my comedy was "intelligent". I was so surprised that what I did was actually substantive enough for someone to even make an observation about it, especially a nice one like that. I think I am finally starting to "get it", as far as how to approach doing standup and knowing how to tap into what works. Also, I think I had previously underestimated the usefulness of memorizing a joke- very helpful indeed.

What also helps this good mood is that my boss is fucking hilarious. He just comes in this morning with the funniest story and sort of reinacts and performs it for us. Just brilliant. This job/life of mine is a sitcom. An awesome sitcom/HBO comedy. I should probably get on top of that one, eh? It would surely beat Veronica's Closet, of course without supercute Dan Cortese . . . or maybe . . . Dan Cortese can be in my show too.

Ah hell, who am I kidding . . . that show was pure gold in its finest most carrot filled form . . . well maybe my show could aspire to something like "Joey".

Happened yesterday: Enter wholefoods on 24th and 7th ave to get lunch, Nervous Jody Foster has paniced look in eyes (think sitting in that round spaceship thingy in "Contact", or for that matter, "Nell" or "Panic Room"), walking faster than other humans are capable of, she breezes past me, makes momentary eye contact, eyes full of general fear, heads to exit the store via the entrance, and thrusts a black baseball cap on her head with utmost might and conviction. And the only other person she reminded me of was Matthew Broderick the time I ran into him on Bedford Street. Poor wide eyed celebrities, so afraid of the big scary world . . .

Other workplace highlight- they bought me a G5 Mac Computer! This place is so neat!

And I started reading the comic book "Ex Machina" by Brian K Vaughn- it's so fucking good. You will like it even if you aren't into comic books. Such a pleasure to read.

Most finally, I met a nice young man who has a nice camera and agreeable sense of humor to mine to FINALLY make the comedy videos I've been DYING to freakin produce. YES. Today was a good day.

_______________
Sent to me today:
XXXXX SUNDAY, AUGUST 13 XXXXX
Critical Tits

Celebrate the right of women to go topless, and protest the unlawful
arrest of women who do so. Whether you choose to bike or blade, do it
topless -- and demonstrate everyone's right to bare their chest.

This event is happening in part as a response to the recent arrest of
a New York woman who was arrested and jailed for refusing to put on a
shirt. Please let everyone know and encourage all to attend so we can
collectively heighten the awareness that it is a man's as well as a
woman's right to bare her chest in NYC.

If you will: Bring permanent markers so we can write on our bodies
the law (penal code 245.1). The cops are obviously unaware that the
right for a woman to go topless in NYC was recently passed and need
to be schooled by us this Sunday.

Tavern on the Green
67th Street and Central Park West, Manhattan
2p; $free"
_____________
I don't have any desire to show randoms my boobs, but apparently others do. This will undoubtedly be entertaining.

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Being Is

I have always had a sense of self righteousness, like I have something to say that people should really hear, and they'd be better off for hearing it. Because that's exactly the kind of vain cunt I am. I'm sure it pisses some of you off the way I make self-depreciating comments that make light of things you truly hate about me and wish I would hate more. But fuck if I care that I'm not perfect. Obsession with being right and perfect and accepted all the time just isn't one of my weaknesses. My weaknesses include the following: vulgarity, excessive behavior, being annoying, getting really hyper, and really loud when drunk, narcissism, not knowing what's appropriate, saying something embarrassing, getting distracted, forgetting people's names, not being able to edit myself, saying the wrong thing when excited, a sometimes crippling fear of being misunderstood, touching and sometimes using other people's stuff secretly without asking, being gross, crying too much, screaming too much, getting too angry with my family, inability to suppress desire, sucking at sports, talking about myself too much, mental laziness, paranoia that nobody really appreciates me, not being able to understand the sports, being addicted to boys, penis envy, being too nostalgic, sloppiness, and getting too serious about moral issues, and I'm sure there's other crap too. But goddamn it I am proud of it all. Not that I want flaws- I try my best to be my best- but there's just some you have to come to terms with, everyone has em, and will always have some. Sometimes when I know my flaws are showing I smile like an asshole inside about it. I like having a guy look at me and think I am pretty and then talk and have him think I am either psychotic and/or completely disgusting. It think it's funny. I like being human. I love the vulgar rawness of the flawed human spirit. Runs in pantyhose and stained glass, blood and guts and tears. I love to think about what it felt like to be the saddest and most desperate I've ever been. Crying, immobile, malnourished, and pathetic. To simply contain that moment in memory, the exhausting voracity of my pain all condensed into a tiny incomplete visual, it moves me. My memories move my own self. Perhaps that's how I know I must love my condition.

Being Is- that's Parminides famous little phrase, the truest words ever spoken. Fuck Thales' "All things are water." Touted as the first known philosophical writings. It's disposable. Being is was the first thing ever really said. It doesn't matter if I love or hate the human condition because I both love and hate it and I can't come to a conclusion one way or the other. Because love and hate exist together and can never be mutually exclusive. They are. We are. Being is. That makes me happy and furious. Because it makes me. It is. Being is. And I don't give a fuck if you think that's pretentious. I'd like an audience of people who can appreciate that, and if you're not it, well . . . you know. I could say something pithy and diva-ish.
Choose your own adventure, write the last line for yourself.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Preview of a new look for the site

I've long grown tired of the current look of my site, especially the boring banner up top, so I'm going to try to work around this photo:

It's going to take some time, but I am sure it will be an improvement. I know it's not the most glamourous photo, but it's natural and it's just me unretouched, blemishes and all if you look close, and not made up. Keepin it real like I like ta . .

Day 2

I'll try to make this as quick as possible cause I actually have a ton of stuff to take care of today but let me just say that I love this job. I adore it. Screw anyone who has a stigma against it. This is a legitimate business that sells fun, play and sex. Sex is good. And not only are they known for being the classiest, most upscale company in its arena, but they also have strict safe sex policies and are against drug use within the industry. They don't do h*rdcore or pen*tration shots (don't want google bringing that audience here though) and also always use condoms. It's gay men only, and the models are really interesting people. My boss is this amazing personality and is close friends with some of the coolest gay celebrities who contact him and work with him regularly. One of their latest videos, the most expensive gay p*rn ever made, even has celebrity cameos and the music is composed by Boy George. Cool stuff, right? One other really fun thing is helping my boss write his blog. He's really really funny, and he'll dictate what he has to say and I basically put it together nicely and punch it up with a few jokes. They are already being well recieved. This is my first job where I'm being hired for my ideas and my writing, and I can really be myself and have a unique voice in doing so. The position is important and I get to deal with all kinds of cool people. And the legal issues the company has to deal with are interesting too. I can't wait to start planning fun events.

Anyhow I'm also happy to be working here because I'd like to continue to bring this company into mainstream acceptance. The people here are great and the business they do is legit. If we live in a culture where the objectification of women is seen as cool while people don playboy bunny logos worldwide, surely a company that specializes in clean, safe porn for the gay market can be embraced by popular culture as well.

And on a sad note, I watched Six Feet Under last night. Requiem For a Dream is the one thing that I watched that made me most disturbed/upset for the longest amount of time, but the newest Six Feet Under is the saddest/upset thing I've ever seen. I think I cried the entire hour of the episode. It's so so good. The acting was so amazing. It's unbelievable the way that the writer/director/actors found subtle ways (some not so subtle) to convey their grief, from the shoveling of dirt, to Claire's cries- I think I cry just like that, when it's so unbearable you just drop the phone kind of thing. I was amazed. And oh so so sad.

Monday, August 08, 2005

Good Morning



I haven't really done much work here yet, but man I already love this job. PS, I have a confidentiality agreement with the company so I'm not gonna share the company name here. And to further protect my privacy, I even get a new last name while on the job. Cool, eh? Anyhow. the atmosphere here is so fun. Let me remind you that I am in an office, not on a set or anything like that. It's just the co-workers. All creative and friendly people. And I don't have to answer phones, finally! And there's a whole foods and Jamba Juice around the corner. Yay.

But I'm also feelin great because aside from having a solid Friday and Saturday night, on Sunday night I was treated by the following:
I'm driving home from the shore in hours of rainy traffic, going past white castles and baja fresh and ice cream places, with an exhausted bank account and a wallet lined with a tiny bit of untouchable beer money, thinking about the hot dogs in the fridge and corresponding can of beans I had bought a week ago that had my name on it. I get home, cut up the hot dog, at some tobasco, ketchup, maple syrup, peppers and onions, and get ready to add the beans.

Then I open the cupboard.

Where are my beans.

My beans are not behind the sugar.
They are not behind the tea.
My beans are gone.
There are no beans.
Damn roommate. You ate my damn beans. Then you went away for the weekend so I can't violently punish you in retrobution for eating my beans and at least fulfilling my appetite for violence if not my empty stomach.

Pick up the phone, feeling bummed,
Me: Hey what's up . . .
Christina: Come over, me and Christy are cooking a feast.

Not only was it a feast, it was a lovely, candlelit outdoor summer dinner with about 6 bottles of wine between 8 people, Christi's Chicken Ciccatello/Marsala, and Scandinavian tea cake and ice cream for dessert. It was so freakin pleasant. So goddamned freakin pleasant.

Furthermore, this was said this weekend:
Person: "Are those real?"
Me: "Of course they are! They aren't that big."
Person: "I just thought maybe you had good taste."

Friday, August 05, 2005

Getting Umbilical

So I did get "the job" and everyone has been really cool about it- every single person I have talked to, with the exception of one person, thinks this sounds fun and interesting. And I am looking forward to it myself. Unfortunately my mother thinks I am entering a world of depravity and that I am sick in the head. A nice young lady told me last night not to let her rain on my parade. Man I would love a parade. I don't like parades all that much, but if it was my parade I think that would feel pretty great for my self confidence. All those elephants and flutists just in my namesake? Wow I'd feel pretty special. Hopefully there would be zeppoles and face painting. I always like it when people write words very large on their foreheads. Getting back to the matter at hand, instead of bitching 'bout my sitch w/ my momz, might as well just share the email I wrote her that sums up my position on all this:

I'm sorry but I am happy with how I live my life and the decisions I make in it and you can either love me no matter what and let me make my own mistakes or not love me at all. It's that simple. I have a mind enough to know what is and isnt good for me and if I find something better I will take it. Either way this could only increase my unemployment amount if it ended. I want to try it out for now. I am not going to argue with you about it. Love and support is not conditional if you mean it. This means you should be able to be supportive of me as a person even when you don't agree with me. I'm an adult and I can live my own life and if you don't let me you're only pushing me away. I refuse to get in an argument about this over the phone. You can cool down on it and not stress. I know how to take care of myself and you aren't me so therefore you cannot make my decisions for my life.


And it's really stressing me the hell out to be in a place where I need to say that to her. But she's gone completely mad and there's no way I am sharing her comments about all this. But this is what I am going through right now. There have been times in my life, one in particular, where I made a life decision based on what she told me I had to do, and it was the wrong one. Cutting the umbilical chord. This just may be the first time I have ever done something my mom has not approved of without talking it out with her until I have her approval. She's really not had to deal with me doing something she doesn't want me to do. And it's become important to me that she accept me no matter what decisions I make. I know I am not doing anything wrong. I am excited by the whole thing and looking forward to a fun and interesting new job. I'd been feeling things like shame and guilt these past few days over my decision. But I think that if I get through this, I'll be much closer to defining my life on my own terms. Either way I refuse to regret someone else's decision and not my own.
_____________________
I started doing things my own way after lifeplan A bottomed out on me. Ever since I've switched to Plan B- AKA- follow your own heart, trust yourself, and follow the fun, I've been so goddamn happy. I think men can even smell it on me. You know how old dudes will say stuff like "the boys must be lining up the street for ya", and then in my mind, like many other girls, I would think to myself, "well, actually, no, old dude. They seem to be intimidated by my confidence and the fact that I am not a blonde dumbass, possibly, who knows, maybe my forehead is too big, but no I don't know where these f'ing 'boys' are."

But these days it actually seems this case. This past year the fuckers seem to be everywhere like ants under sticky candy. The other day my friend Christina said to me, referring to me, that she's never seen someone have so many dudes all over her when going out. Ok yeah, I am sharing this with you audience, and of course I feel good hearing that and all and the point isn't bragging. Here's the point- When she told me that, I thought to myself- hmmm, well if that's the case- I know exactly why and I'm happy to share it.

Here's why: in large part it's obviously confidence, we've all heard that one before, and being yourself- I know that much has something to do with it. But the real secret is my honest outlook on the whole game. I'm happy with myself and my life. I have my own life and my own mind and my own fun. Even if I like a guy, if he doesn't call me or doesn't make an effort to be in my world, fuck it. I truly do not need him and could care less. Because I have no interest in the game. If I have to bother, stress, or get fucked with by a guy, I'm just going to drop his name from my phonebook. The second I have to deal with an iota of bullshit, I'm out and that's it. So I really think men can sense this on me. They can sense that I don't need them. They can sense that I could care one way or the other whether they talk to me or not. I will extend myself so long as I am having a good time, and yes I will go out of my way if I am certain that I will have fun and it won't cause me any kind of irritation. I can be confident and I can be myself because I don't treat 'getting a man' as important. Whatever happens happens. And I believe that for both women and men, you need to know yourself on your own and be happy with yourself as a complete individual. Until that happens, you either won't be able to 'score' a person you really want to be with, or, if you are with someone and depend on them that much to complete you as a whole, your relationship with either fail or become vulnerable because of that issue.

So that's the truth. I know that's the difference in me, and aside from simply going out more often, I'm certain that's why I get that kind of attention. Because I am happy, having a good time, and I'm not needy with these boys pretty much ever. If I find a situation with a guy provides me with hassle rather than happiness, it's over. And I wish for all of you who don't feel this, to find it somewhere in their mind, because I know that at least for me, it makes life better. Of course I'd like to say for people who are in relationships that are for the more long term and you have issues, then don't run from those- talk them out- if you're in something where you guys might actually have a 'future' of course. But this girl isn't interested in the future right now.
________________
Ok, take it away Frank!

And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I’ll say it clear,
I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain.

I’ve lived a life that’s full.
I’ve traveled each and ev’ry highway;
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Regrets, I’ve had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out.
I faced it all and I stood tall;
And did it my way.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried.
I’ve had my fill; my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that;
And may I say - not in a shy way,
No, oh no not me,
I did it my way.

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!
________________________________
Links: Romantic Comedy mission, The Cobra Snake, The Phantom Zone.

PS- I left my cellphone charger at my beach house and my phone may run out of batteries today. Just so y'all know. Think I am gonna turn it off and then on later. Sooo, expect that.

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Hey, dirtay, Baby I Got Your Bunnies, Don't you Worry. They're OK. I've been feeding them lettuce and carrots.


Performing Stand-Up again August 11 at a really cool place (same as last time) in NYC's lower east side. Click here for more info.

I think I have too much on my mind to even talk about it, but I will make a shout out to a certain young lady from a certain law school I used to go to who is friends with a certain "Dave" from that school who informed me that you're an avid reader. Yes you, you the one who got wasted and put on my Kill Bill costume. Surely that should happen again some time. Frankly, it doesn't happen enough in this crazy world we live in, that young women go home with other young women and put on their Kill Bill costumes and wigs. God Bless America.

Great Free Music Downloads from SubPop Records, Recommended:
Postal Service,
Sleater-Kinney,
Hot Hot Heat,
Shins,
and
Thermals.

Oh yeah, New York is so cool, I randomly went to this party 2 weeks ago without even really knowing what I was at, then reading in the magazines that night, time, and place I was at, this special party was happening. I remember seeing all these people that night and thinking- Isn't that . . .? Then my friend saying, No, no way. Guess it was. Silly city. Still wondering why they let us in. I think we were really drunk and confident.