Thursday, March 30, 2006

Skeletons are lovable



But also, aside from skeletons being lovable and dancing, this fills me with intense pleasure.


Hey. I get so pissed when I think about stuff of mine someone has, and then I have their stuff and it sucks. My stuff is better for putting on cats. And also for enjoying in it's own right.

I really fucking like this weather. I really fucking don't like the release of 9/11 calls and how NBC was advertising "Up next: Dramatic 911 calls". I don't really see why we need to hear them or why they are our business other than it being some sick twist on reality tv or as some propaganda peice to strike the fear back into American hearts.

Too much negativity.

I know I talked about ponies eating ice cream. But I want to talk more about ponies. This time it's about ponies having sex. I know you don't wanna think about it but it's real and it happens. I found this picture on the internet of two male ponies having sex. So basically they are gay ponies and they are making love to each other.

My blogs will continue to be vapidly absurd and meaningless as I fill voids because I am not interested in facing what I'm up to or what I'm feeling about it. Please excuse it. Too much stuff is private type stuff. Not the kind of stuff for putting on cats. Not this stuff:

Oreos

+ (plus)


Kitties

= (equals)

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Sometimes Babies Try To Fuck Around And Trick You Into Thinking They are Rabbits.


I bought 2 front row tickets this morning to Nine Inch Nails at the Garden State Arts Center. Yay summertime outdoor concert with my most favorite! I got such good tickets because of my wonderful fanclub membership. This makes me feel good about myself for a fleeting moment before I fucking hate the human condition.

I was really happy with last night's show. Thank you to the friends who came! And most especially to filmmaker Jarrah Gurrie for filming. He is doing me a huge service by finally getting my performance on tape. I hope to be able to have this clip on my site sometime soon as well. YAY Jarrah! Yay friends :) You make me feel nicer than a baby suckling on her mother's bosom.

I had an idea for this weekend's Hoboken Comedy Night: An Easter Egg Hunt. Yay! I'll try and find one of those plastic eggs and put something in them that people like. Like maybe a heaping spoonful of rice pudding. Maybe I'll just place spoonfulls of rice pudding all over the bar area in all different spots that people won't expect but especially the seats.

All women have periods. Once every four weeks, blood comes out of a woman's body from in between her legs. If you use a santitary pad it will not get on your clothes. You can watch a video about that here.

I wrote in my sidebar about the television program Best Pudding Ever and wanted to brainstorm about other fine programs that could exist:
Best Condom Ever
Best Condominium Ever
Best Aruba Ever
Best Organ Ever
Best Hams Ever
Worlds Best Clam Farm
50 Hottest Fevers
Most Burningest Rashes

Ok. There's many more to be thunk'd up. You try it.

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

I did a google image search for "Whitney Houston's Head". But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

When I was 14 I wrote on an index card "God, why give us a mind to think and hearts to feel if all you wanted to do was fuck us?" and I’ve always kept it in my night stand by my bed. I was pissed about how guys fuck chicks over. When I was 18 I wrote on the other side of the card "Comedy is power and a tool to maintain the status quo." I was pissed about how comedy fucks chicks over. I haven’t written anything on there since. I just reflect whenever I see it. I wrote this in my computer yesterday:

We are all strangers but we know the same water and we know the same wind.

At the time it meant something that was in my heart. Then I looked at it and it seemed so dumb. You can make any statement, like blank is blank, and it can sound like you're really saying something. The first recorded bit of Western Philosophy is cited as Thales saying "All things are water." Nice job fucko. I can do that too: "All things are latex." That could mean something too. "All things are water" is like abstract art. It gains from the flattery of the perceiver. Like someone you love. Like someone that you inflict your own ideas upon so that you see only what you want to see in them. The trickiest thing about being able to think is that our thoughts depend on our sensory faculties. And they are so faulty. Some people can't even see, but they are still human. It's so troubling to think about what there might actually be versus what we experience. We all live in our fantasies. If a person thinks that life is marriage and a baby, then that person can find that home.

That's why I am pretty sure the only reality is self knowledge. You have lost logic and sanity when you have lost yourself. There's so much happiness in truth. I had been feeling so shitty lately. I'd been engaging in various self-destructive behavior. But I got to a point, specifically Sunday. I reconnected with a bit of my past. Specifically I talked to my old best friend. We'd been best friends since we got periods. Then some shit got between us and we got mad at eachother and stopped talking. That was about a year ago. Right before Thailand. Anyhow, talking to this friend just reminded me who I was. I've been a friend nomad in my adult life. Migrating from one world to another. In one I am shy and awkward. In another I am a pompous asshole. I am every woman. It's all in me.

Anyway I am not going to close this one out without a little helpful information, provided from me to you. This article is all about Dental Dams.


(ps I have a comedy show tonight, pass it on ...)

Sunday, March 26, 2006

V for Fucking Terrible

What the hell. I talked about how much I thought V for Vendetta sucked and then blogger ate it.

Friday, March 24, 2006

Make Me Soft

I had a dream that I was rubbing the most luxurious lotions on my hands ... all up and down my arms (And I don't mean weaponry). It was hundreds of dollars per ounce and I was just lathering it on. It had a heavenly smell. I think it was like Hanae Mori's body lotion. I always walk into Sephora and put it on. I should probably just buy it, but I would never spend that much on lotion. I was in some relaxing dimly lit room. And all of the best products were displayed. The best lotion. The best lipgloss. And I could just use all of it, as much as I wanted. I was putting the lotions on just enjoying how soft my skin felt. This must have gone on very slowly for about an hour of the dream. I'm just saying that's all. I wanted you to know about this.

Last night was good. I really enjoyed just telling a funny story. I am sure that is going to be my style as my standup evolves: storytelling. Taking you through an experience and allowing moments to highlight the jokes I want to make. I really don't want to be another Sarah Silverman. I adore her, but she's already her. I'd rather take you into my realm, an offputting acceptance of the vulgar as innocent. Or whatever. Let's drink some beers!

Anyhow I got all pissed off. The man at the front said- "oh ... you're Heather Fink, two people came here looking to see you. I told them you weren't here so they left." Mind you this is at 7:05 and the show starts at 7. I was there I just didn't realize I had to sign in. I am disoriented. I am on painkillers with Codine in them. Well actually I hadn't taken one today. I think I am feeling better, or at least used to what has become a gentle throbbing. Like a neuro-companion. Anyways and anyhoo, I asked him- what did they look like? He said "an attactive white woman and an attractive black woman". Ok, well in my universe, there's a bunch of those. Thanks but no thanks. He said it as though such specimens rarely walk these parts of the earth. I was pissed the two people had come out to this obscure location to check out my show. And I was there. Just not, alas, signed in. I don't hate this man, lest word get back to him of my annoyance, however slim the chance of that may be. He just better reckonize that's its foolish to tell someone - no they aren't here- when he doesn't actually know who I am and could have checked with someone who knows. Like his cohost.

Anyhow- attractive white woman and attractive black woman, who are you? Thank you for coming. I just want to hug you with my soft lotiony arms.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Mammalzz



Found Porn.
-----

Moving along:
I have a comedy show tonight at 7pm at 317 East Houston at the Parkside Lounge. I'm not doing my normal set. I'm going to tell you a story. It will have silly moments!


Once again, Improv Everywhere accomplished another hilarious mission. Tee Hee. See it here.

My friend Matt is an industrious man. He's developed a cool new website:
winneroftheweek.com
It's a weekly contest where people share their experiences or their original slant on things and get paid for it. $50 each week is paid to the winner. Winning entries and other notable entries are archived on the site and there's potential for some serious mischief!

There are two contests going on right now: The best trip ever and the worse trip ever, (trip being travel and vacation, not drugs). Thanks for the clarification, Matt.

Anyhow this is a pretty cool idea. I love me some stories, yay stories! So far it's pretty entertaining.

-----

And alas. I feel better. I just really panicked. I thought my brain was broken. Glad to know it's just god gently telling me that he hates me and wants me to suffer just a little bit. I guess that's the price you pay for eating hooved animals and engaging in frequent heavy petting. With homeless retards.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Cat scans are fun.

A newborn baby puking; an old lady with 2 black and blue eyes; a young man in a room with a large glass pane looking out at me, half-naked, smirking at me as his hospital gown lies around his hips, after escaping his room he sits next to me, smiling, they tell him to get back in his room; a woman with her finger cut off; an old man's urine on the floor of the bathroom. I try to pee in a cup but I always get it on my hands. My female anatomy mocks me with the inaccuracy of it's aim. It knows I suffer of penis envy. In five hours at the ER the only pleasurable experience was the one minute when they gave me a cat scan. Cat scans are fun. I like lasers and moving tables and round things I can be inside.

I never want to acknowledge pain. I see it as weakness and failure. My head has been throbbing for 4 days now. Pulsing hard and continuously. Like my heart is beating in my head. I told myself that it would go away. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel like a headache. It's just pulsing, pulsing, pulsing ... I feel so weird. So disoriented. I know my name. I know what day it is. I just don't understand why it won't stop.

I had been ignoring it. I went out and partied. I hosted a comedy show. I went out and entertained at a business dinner. I just can't, I just don't want to stop. I can do anything. I can do everything. I am becoming my mother. I must work hard. I want to be amazing. I can't be amazing if I don't work hard. I can't stress out. That's for wusses. I cannot have a little hard work break me down. It's stupid. The throbbing will go away. I haven't seen a doctor in two years aside from the teeth guy, the eye lady, and the man who checks my beautiful flower. The doctor said he can't see me. He said I need to go to the ER. So scary on TV. I never went there before. How can my problem possibly be important enough for them?

Why won't it stop. I don't have time for this.

I am sick. I am tired. I am plain fucking exhausted. Over-whelmed. Stressed out.

I don't deserve to be. Everyone has it hard. My mother slaves away at her job and has been for years. I see the tired waitress in the busy New York restaurant. I've seen the P.A.s working what seems to be 20 hour days. I see everyone around me. They work so hard. It isn't fair to the world for me to be bothered by whatever it is. I am just some dumb little 24 year old girl with pretty hair. I am not supposed to have any reason to complain. Think about the uglies. How hard it must be for them. I don't deserve self-pity. I have it good. I am lucky. There are so many unique benefits to being where I am.

I don't want to say the explicit materials I view at work disgust me. I don't want to disrespect someone else's idea of awesome. I want to suck it up and take it like a man. I don't mean like that, just ... don't want to let it get to me. Grow up. Be strong. Deal with it. What's the big deal anyway?

Surely, everytime I stop to imagine why my mind is beating, thumping, screaming in madness as though something wants to leap out of my head- all I can think about is- my god, I have so many things I have to get done. My god, I feel so unloved. My friends love me, my family loves me. I do not deserve to feel unloved. I should stop being stupid. Stop being a baby. "You have to learn to be happy being alone." I am independent. I am a loner, a wanderer. I don't depend on anyone or expect anything from anyone else because I don't believe that anything rewarding will ever come from someone doing something for me that I could have done myself. Doesn't play well with others. Well then why does she have such an active social life? It's nothing. It's just a play, a charade. Nothing meaningful. But what is meaningful anyway.

Two heartbreaks now. It's taking its toll. I am sad. I do feel alone. One heartbreak so intense I lost everything I knew about myself. I fell in love again and it was great. I just lost love two months ago. I tell myself everything is fine. I am not willing to feel sad again. I am not going to accept being broken. I just want to find my own peace of mind.

But I do want love. I do want to be loved. And everything in the world tells me that's just so stupid to want. But I believe people need each other. I believe we are meant to love and meant to care. We are the first generation that falls in love over and over again because marriage is for chumps and celebrities. Or at least that's what all the cool kids say. I don't want a baby inside me. I don't want a joint bank account or a three car garage. I don't want the neighbor kids peeing in my goddamn pool. Please oh please I don't want to be referred to as "the wife".

I saw a montage of all the hospital moments in my mind: I pictured the pain of someone who told me about his father dying in a hospital, there's Edie Falco with Tony Soprano, my tonsils being taken out, babies crying, this one time when my grandmother was admitted to a hospital the nurses said she sang all the time and they couldn't keep her with everyone else because she kept singing. I remember she used to dance the Peabody and sing some song or another "ta-dum ta-da tee dee dee" which always sounds pretty crazy but she knew the songs well.

My grandmother was paranoid schidzophrenic. She lived with us for 10 years. It always looms over me. If you are prone to schidzophrenia, it will onset in your 20s. I am still in my 20s. I think about this all the time.

I was obsessing over the idea of suicide on Sunday. The line between life and death is so thin it's incredible. A person can die by a silly accident. Death happens all the time. The will to live is so powerful that it's active even when you don't want it to be. But no matter how peaceful the idea of death seems, or how deep a hole I've dug for myself, no matter how deep and murky and invisible, the thread of will to live was never too murky or too invisible to cease to be. I never gave up even when I had given up. I think about the idea that "the existential absurdity" is to continue to live in spite of everything we know and realize about existence- that choosing life over death is absurd in the face of logic.

The book V for Vendetta spoke about the last inch of yourself you get to keep- integrity. That the world can whitewash a person into fitting its mold. That Fight Club line I always quote "It's only until you've lost everything that you can truly be free" or however it goes cause I am too tired to look it up. V for Vendetta talks about killing that part of yourself that hangs onto what you know so you can experience what is real. I don't think people need to breakdown like in Fight Club or V for Vendetta in order to be aware of truth, especially because any one person is naive to think they ever know a truer conception of reality over any one other person.

This is where it becomes crazy.

I am driving myself crazy. I'll beat genetics to the task. I have thought everything through to such detailed extremes. Everything seems so clear, it's honestly disgusting to understand the world so well, seeing all of it's vulgarity as reality lies spread eagle before me. To me, right now, the world is a pussy. Part sexual, exquisite, life-giving, miraculous, beautiful. Part vulgar, dirty, explicit, monstrous, intimidating.

I understand that the world is filled with pain. I understand that I am but a speck of dust within the desert. Kierkegaard talked about Angst as the feeling you get when you consider the enormity of existence. The vastness of the universe. I feel that. Despair in the face of the awareness of others.

I am worried about others.

Why do I suck so bad? Is it because I never forward those emails? Is this the hell that has been promised to befall upon me?

I have an unusually severe tension headache. They say it is a kind that if you don't treat it in the first hour, it can last 2 to 3 weeks. Supposedly it's due to stress and exhaustion.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

This Sunday's thoughts.


I am going to Puerto Rico with a boy. We are going to do it on the beach. And then feel annoyed and disappointed later when "doing on the beach" sounded like a cool idea until we got sand in our cracks and its so irritating to the sensitive skins and think about how we could've done it on the bed in the hotel. So then we kidnap a petite Puerto Rican man and shoot him in his legs and have a jolly old laugh.

Thank You For Smoking looks like a great movie.

I feel humdrum. Stella wants to get her groove back. I need to find me a smoove Jamaican. How ironic that I am going to Puerto Rico with an American! Haahaha! Lol

My friend Marc in LA said that the world is so manic these days. I said "what is that word I don't remember what that means". He said he means that there so many extreme highs and downs in today's modern world. Yeah I feel like that. There's so much instant gratification and then intervals of boring nothingness. I remember when kids used to do E and then talk about how having sex on E is the best thing you'll ever feel. I think I'd want to kill myself after having sex on E. Sex is so awesome and how could a person live with themselves knowing how much better they could feel. Each time would be so disappointing. There'd be no natural high. Doing E scares me. I never tried it.

And yet again every time I hear the song "God Only Knows" I feel so empty and pathetic. Sometimes I feel like my body mocks me in how tangible it is over my ideas and ambitions. I wish I could touch them with my fingers.

I love Bill Paxton. Go to Hoboken Comedy Night tonight.

Friday, March 17, 2006

Green stuff

I feel so bleak. I kind of hate these big drinking Holidays like St Patricks Day. They make me feel so obligated to have more fun that I'm otherwise inclined. I like having fun on any given day of the week, but it's like woo hoo, St Patrick's Day- you HAVE to have fun. And people are gonna be so wasted. I've had a lot of fun on holidays and while wasted too, but I dunno. Something about thinking about crowded places and beer being spilled on me ... ick. But then again I have great wasted memories in crowds so big you don't have to bother standing because there's no room to fall down. And the celebratory spirit, that's nice. And then weird random shit happens and there's decorations ... that's nice too. Anyways I don't like being told what to do. Don't tell me what to do, "saint patrick" and your stupid "day". I wore a green sweater today and now it's all like- ohhh st patrick's day sweater oh my god yay ireland.

But why do the stinky Irish get a holiday? Why can't the Dutch have one? At least in Northern Holland people aren't being bombed cause of god stuff. And in Holland we have bigger tits and fat spaceships. NL in da house.

Snakes on a plane.

This teacher threatened these girls with a knife for not doing the crabwalk.

Go GW Go GW. Northwestern you little bitch, stopping making red marks on my brackets I hate U.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Ponies Eating Ice Cream

<-- fuckin hell yeah- YUMMY

Ice Cream Cones. I like them.


Ponies. I hate them.

When I saw that Jetblue had tickets from NYC to Puerto Rico for 79 bucks each way, I bought em right away. Just now. YAY. The total with tax was 199. YAY. J Lo is gonna hang out with me and we are gonna be Butter Pecan Ricans together. YAY.

I'm performing in NYC tonight (7pm) at Standup NY on 78th and Broadway- it's right there near the 1 train stop at 79th. Please see it! YAY.

By the way, a friend of mine doubted whether ponies ate ice cream. Of course they are eating it. They eat it all the time. There was even this documentary about it. Which reminds me of the movie "The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit" starring Joe Montegna.

I've been reading V for Vendetta, haven't finished The Watchmen yet. Both Alan Moore. He's good. Damn good. Looking forward to the V movie. The costume looks very true to the book, but I haven't gotten to the part where Natalie Portman gets GI Jane yet.


Did you people see the Sopranos? Woah. I guess this is gonna be Six Feet Underish cause the main characters are gonna deal with this person's passing. (Don't wanna totally give it away if you haven't seen it yet).

What if people made ice cream out of innocent little ponies? What if ponies farted? The world is so full of mystery and wonderment.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

These are the things that happened in LA


Wednesday:
Sunny and gorgeous, breakfast by the pool at my hotel, The Standard, in Hollywood. Waiters in LA act weirdly, laying on fake charisma as hard as they can. It's sweet, but nausiating for the average New Yorker. There was a model in a fishtank at the hotel. On the first night the woman had a perfect ass, I thought such an ass only existed in photoshop and in dreams. She altered my reality in that moment.

Met with businessy people. Tried to eat lunch at fancy places but nothing was open for eating at 3pm. Felt feelings of desertion. Ended up at a Ruby Tuesday's like place. Had nice company. Enjoyed using my GPS navagation. But it made me distracted while driving. Got a few fingers that suggested anger.

Ate Sushi at Katana. (Food not as good as NYC but very pretty.) Met up with a lovely group of people, including a young man named Mark who likes to dress as an eccentric, with various accutrements on his outfit. This time is was a grandpa hat with a pom pom on it. As he joined our table and had no seat, he stood awkwardly nearby. Jessica Alba, who was sitting next to me, turned to Mark and said "I like your hat." And then she chatted with our table. She was so genuinely nice it was surprising. And also she's quite lovely in person. Mark knew who Jessica Alba was, but didn't realize that was her. So he was quite natural in conversing with the lady. Later we went to Sky Bar at the Mondrian. There was a beautiful view of the city but all my pictures sucked cause of the lighting. Both places were exclusive kind of spots but I couldn't believe how rich LA girls dressed worse than Jersey girl stereotypes. I makes me sad cause these fuckers waste so much money on looking like turds. NYC girls spend disgusting amounts of money on their outfits too, but they give a good show for it.

Thursday:
My internet mysteriously stopped working. Stupid laptop IP address wireless confuckuration not doing what it should. Visit with friend in Santa Monica, enjoy a drive to Malibu and take in some very pretty views. This is the calmest, most relaxing part of my trip. Still fielding many calls in anitication of the evening's events. We eat lunch by the ocean. Ahhhhh ....


The GAYVN awards! Getting ready. I wear the following: simple navy blue Nicole Miller strapless gown. Got it at Marshalls for 50 bucks, orignal price, around 500. Mom sewed it so it fit like a glove. Mom is so awesome at everything. Wish I knew how to do all the cool stuff she does. Wore it with grandma's costume jewelry, a fur shrug, and the gold heels from Parisian designer Charles Jordan that I got in a fancy shop in Bangkok for 80 bucks- US price: 300-400. Fuck yeah.

At the awards I realize something: the entire gay porn industry knows who I am. What the fuck? Ok, well, I guess this is my reality ... gay ... porn. Still never feels normal. Or ordinary.

I also realize that LA and NY have different feelings about Michael Lucas. In NYC, everyone is so in love with him and always so excited to meet him. In LA, people certainly got excited about him (is that really him?!. etc) but in LA you'll also find all the other studios. Yes all the other studios that he pisses off. They all hate him. They envy him. They booed and threw ice. It was weird.

Skipped out on Chi Chi La Rue's after party in favor of celebrating my friend Jordan's leaving the Carson Daily show at his house in Hollywood Hills. Carson Daily eye-fucked me like crazy but all for not. I can't seem to take famous people seriously. Plus he might not have been eye-fucking me. I am very full of myself after all and I might have been confused by how hot I am. Anyhow, I had a puff of some reefer. One puff and it did me in for the night. A friend drove me back to my hotel and I left my car at the house. I got french fries at the hotel diner. While waiting at the counter for my fries, some weird drunk guy said random weird shit to my right, while at my left some annoying british man introduced himself saying "I've been seeing you around the hotel." Good to know, fuck-o.

Friday:
Call a cab bright and early because I know that is a day to do some post GAYVN award work for the bossman. Pick up my car. (god how do LA people do it?) On the drive back I pass my cab driver. His car is smashed. I feel guilty. I made him drive out there. Oh well. He was ok.

Join my boss for a pow-wow at his hotel. Do businessy things. Drive around to various porn shops to check out product placement. The day is miserable. I'm caught in the middle of arguments. It's a shitty day. But finally my boss discovers something. I have "All by myself" from Celine Dion on my iPod. He blasts it. Tension dissapates. He replays it over and over. Acts it out. We're laughing. All is well.


My boss' birthday party is up in the hills off Mullholland Drive. It's hosted by one of his close and personal friends. The view is stunning up there. The roads are scary. I make a note to keep sober as all hell. I am driving.

The house is unlike anything I've ever seen. It would make MTV Cribs look like poop houses. In the front are two glass display garages filled with cars. One has 8 cars, mostly lamborginis and ferraris. The other one has a mixed blend of old and larger cars. It was a nice and very tame party. I made an attempt to talk to everyone in the room and I got a lot done. I wanted to make people know that each one was important to me. And some were more important business wise than others but still. I like to be sincere and genuine. I tried. I worked hard. I talked my ass off. I think it paid off. Man I know a lot about gay porn. As usual, my night was weird.

Walked my tired ass to bed. Got a call at 3:30 am. Voice sounded like the british man at the diner the night before. He said "Oh. Hello! Would you like to join me for a glass of champagne?" "No."

Saturday:
Breakfast at a restaurant. Food sucked again. Goddamn it where's the fancy stuff. Saw Ari's assitant from Entourage. He stood alone and looked really nervous. I thought about saying hello but he seemed like he wanted to either be left alone and me saying hi would make him angry, or he was kind of sad about being alone. Either way I didn't say hi because I feared the outcome of my interaction would be discomfort. It was too early for discomfort. But he's so adorable on that show. Oh well.


Met up with 2 other friends and went to the Getty center. We rode a tram! A tram to the top of a hill! It was so super pretty. Then I was in a museum. Looking at art made me feel weird again. Didn't want to deal with the feelings the paintings gave me. Had a nice time anyways. Ate dinner and got really drunk and tired after 2 glasses of champagne. Marc told the waiter that he didn't want him to pour him more coffee in his half full cup of coffee that had gotten cold so he asked if he could dump it out in this other cup. It was a weird way of asking but the waiter thought Marc was being rude. He got really mad and wouldn't serve our table anymore. In fact, he emotionally stormed off in extreme distress. Anyhow, I was so so tired. Plans to go to 3 different parties were shot. It was my last night there and all I wanted to do was sleep and go the fuck home.

Sunday:
Yay airplane yay airplane. On Jetblue they don't serve meals so you have to buy beforehand. I bought a big salad. They didn't give me a fork. I asked Jetblue for a fork. The lady said "since we don't serve food, we don't have any forks." Fuck you lady. I feel so stranded. So alone. So forkless. I never felt more forkless in my entire life. I eat salad with my hands and get dressing and bacon bits all over my fingers. I wipe them on my blanket. I smell like salad for hours.

The final frontier

(Please note, I wrote this on the plane and if you confuse easy just ingore this whole thing. Or if you prefer the humor blog posts over the most serious reflective ones, also, find your 'simply scratching the surface' above.)

The thought of visiting LA always gave me a lot of anxiety. A town littered with fake people and fake places never attracted me. (I’d never visit Vegas without obligation) Part of me was also intimidated. LA seems so important. So much happens there. People are supposedly glamorous and powerful.

It was amazing. I walked away from Hollywood with an even greater sense of sickening arrogance than I’d ever had before. Perhaps it’s New York. Perhaps I think too much. I always uncontrollably seek meaning in all things. It’s easy to deconstruct the world this way and I’m pretty quick with the cynicism (though I'm still an optimist so there's hope in my heart). An essential element of being a cynic is the innate behavior of instant dissection of all things consumed. Any image my eye sees, any sound that falls upon my ears, my mind rips apart its base until I’m left with either what distinguishes this element from all other things, or with nothing. I don’t know if other minds work the same way because I’ve never crawled inside another. But I’m worried that this way of thinking is too uncommon, because this instinct of analysis allows for art.

If a person has standards, judging harshly and quickly, that person can easily filter out all bullshit till they are left with something substantial. It is said judge not lest ye be judged, but I want to be judged. I want to be held by impossible standards so that I am forced to be my best. I want the world to suffocate me in judgment until in my very last breath there is the air of brilliance choked out of my lungs.

Two ideologies are my enemy: relativism and falsehoods. Do not mistake creativity with lies. Creative and imagined worlds should be created and are invaluable to our social capital. But all creative art is a mirror. Art mirrors life. Life does not mirror art- that is an act of a lie. Any time a person accepts a lie as truth because it is fed to them that way, technology and art suffers. You cannot build upon a ground that doesn’t exist. If someone believes a lie, as with all beliefs, they will build a conclusion on top of that idea. And as all activity goes, seeing as how time has not yet stopped, the building is like a poison because it is born out of nothing real. So for this reason I hate the “spin” in the news. And this is also why I hate fake tits. Fake tits create a lie in the world about how breasts can be imagined. They say to the world that the miraculous features of a woman can be simply recreated with cheap plastic shit. It’s a crime.

And relativism- that’s the trash of those who say “Oh well, who am I to judge … to each his own, … or I can’t really say what’s right and wrong for someone else.” This is confused with more useful wisdoms: You can judge but you might be wrong, and just because someone does something reprehensible it does not discount the person in their entirety. But you should and can say what is good, bad, right and wrong. You should know so that you do not live a life of coincidence and accident. Have you not cheated on a lover because the opportunity has never arisen? Do you not rape because someone would find out? Do you not punch because no one is provoking you right now? A person should know what they think is right and what they think is wrong because an unexamined life is not worth living for a man (yeah that’s Socrates). Perhaps an animal can simply live by instinct and happenstance, but for a man, you’re only gift and privilege is the ability to reason, an ability wasted by those who have no judgment and no taste.

And let me clarify this much: I enjoyed LA. I had a blast. It was so much fun. But I hate the place. I hate that it pretends to be amazing. I hate that something so fake and vapid lures some of the world’s most talented stars and minds to its corner of the world. I hate that so many have been fooled into living in this theme park.

I have a sense of humor, however, towards all things that I hate. I’m glad for extremes, even those that I do not understand. I’m glad for all that is stupid so that I may not forget to laugh.

In conclusion, I was just surprised that a place I had built up in my mind was so freakin lame in so many ways. I went to the land of the famous and was utterly uninspired. I have no attraction to things that come easily, and LA is the embodiment of the slutiest slut in all the land.

I don’t want to conclude that I didn’t have a good time or that I didn’t enjoy myself. I did. I’m just happy to say EAST COAST HOLLA BITCHEZZZ EAST COAST EAST COAST NYC in ya ass fuck yeah.

Monday, March 13, 2006

This Sunday

I am, in fact, back

and ready to attack.

But I'm a little sleepy.

But I'll attack.

And I'll tell you about stuff.

In the meantime, I'm doing a show in NYC on Thursday, and another great Hoboken Comedy Night is this Sunday.

Thursday, March 09, 2006


Is Thin In?
Hey dudes, I'm quoted in here. Yay. (Can a Hoboken friend pls save a copy for me in the NYC? Remember about the shoelaces ...)

Ok, having fun in LA, met Jessica Alba last night ... gay porn awards tonight. Yippy Pippy Motherfucker

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Finkywood time.

When we landed in LA I saw the biggest highway I ever laid my eyes on! There were so many lanes and lights at night, it looked like a big sparkling diamond necklace. It's probably much less pleasant up close. Like your face- woah!

We had a delightful trip. My boss very much enjoys making jokes when he realizes he gets a reaction out of me. So he had a lot of fun making comments that there was a bomb on the plane when the flight attendants were nearby. I kept telling him "no joking!" Thank goodness his words were blanketed in his Russian accent or I think we'd be in jail. At one point he even took my coffee stirrer and pretended it was an antenna coming out of his head to signal to the bomb. Hard not to love the guy, right? And don't worry, he managed to work a few rape and murder jokes in too. I always have a nice time reminding him what isn't ok to repeat in front of anyone else.

Boy oh boy- LA! I hope I can get Rodney King's autograph!!!

In other news, please grab a copy of the NY Daily News on Thursday. I'm supposed to be quoted in an article about Anorexia as a female comedian who jokes about it. Hope they quoted me properly, or at all ... we shall see :)
(Friends- save me a copy just in case! THANK YOU I WILL PAY YOU BACK WITH A LIFETIME SUPPLY OF LUXURY SHOELACES. ACT NOW OR YOU WILL HAVE MISSED YOUR BIG FUCKIN CHANCE.)

Monday, March 06, 2006

Big assed ladies like me look dumb in capris.

Why do people act like a martini is so fancy? It's just marketing to make you feel good about drinkin a whore's drink: vodka. Vodka's totally for whores. Nah I don't mean that. I just like tossin around the fancy language. But seriously- when did people start thinking that taking vodka and dressing it up pretty makes it a sophisticated drink? At least make it dirty and salty like a good Saturday night.

Whisky, scotch, bourbon, cognac- those are simple and sophisticated. They have flavor. You sip them and let their smooth flavors dance on your tongue. Vodka? Ok, the best vodka is the one with the least vodka taste. You don't savor that shit, you drink it down because you want to get wasted. Vodka is a ticket to another place, and it's not about quietly digressing to a paler shade of amber colored reality.
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I liked Michelle Williams' Oscar dress best of all dresses last night. Most of them were boring and nothing special. Reese's was ok but it didn't compliment her figure or skin tone. Salma's made her too boobyliscious, like Jolie's lips, her boobs can easily go from sexy to cartoonish. Her dress from last year was amazing. Oh well. I remember a time when I thought Michelle Williams wasn't particularly cute. Then she wised up and got anorexic and it looks good on her kind of like Nicole Richie. I'm tellin you- anorexia is your ticket from kinda famous to really famous. And it will easily grab you some contracts with fashion companies to model their stuff. Man I love modern ideas of beauty! I can't help it, I read all the fashion magazines with their pretty pictures of things till I become mezmorised by their idea of hot. Starvation baby, women don't deserve to be hot and healthy, fuck naw!

Thumbs up:


Thumbs down:

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Speaking of fashion, I gotta say this:
I think it's all about black and white and rocker chic right now. Plus white leather shoes- for men and women. Men: White leather lace up dockers/golf shoes or white dress shoes. Women: White pumps= so hot. For women: Big buckles and accessories plus fuse the whole military/ functional G-star type thing with British tight fitting stuff. The gold button thing is already in style and that works with it. The skinny fit pant works with it too. Majorly tapered with bright colored socks and pumps. Frilly colored shirts and various vests. I guess just a mix of boho plus military- but old school military- no camo print stuff. Anyway if you wanna drop it like it's hot on your casual wardrobe, I think this is the way to go. That and bermuda length shorts, it's the new capri. Which I am glad about cause big assed ladies like me look dumb in capris.

I don't know much, but I know I love you.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

What the fucking fuck.

May I reiterate- what the fucking fuck. My boss rescheduled our flight but hours ago to fly out Tuesday. I was all mentally ready for this. He's throwing me into flux. My frail mind and body cannot handle such last minute changes. Well, I can. But it's unpleasant. Why not earlier why! Grrrrr. Now I have to cancel Universal Studios. Life is but a roller coaster of stuff going on a metal track at a carnival.


Anyways, Hoboken Comedy Night was a thing of happy making. The audience was great, the performers were great. That's really all I can ask for. Can't wait for more night. Y'all better want it cuz I'm puttin it in you. (that's what she said) Anyways anyhooo, very happy with the turn out.

I wish the cupcake frosting I'm eating right now was full of more chocolate chips and less cupcake remnants. Any chocolate chips, in fact ... uh those would be good. The cupcakes were about 2 weeks old.

Shutup Reese Witherypoon goddamn
Jack Nicholson you need a throat lozenge
Oscars stop being boring stop being boring
Ang Lee I love and heart you kissies you're so cute and so asian

Ang Lee: so coy, so crazy sexy cool
First, Ian and Ryan threw a party on Hoboken St Patty's Day. And then they got bagpipers to come and bagpipe. You may not guess this much, but bagpipers in your apartment is a really good time for everyone. Thanks Ian and Ryan!

See the bagpipers here.

And then we danced to George Michael's beautiful music.

See the dancing here.

And did you know the GWU is being good at basketball games? Well I'll be darned.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

These socks have lobsters on them

And in other news, here's the trailer for the short film, "Sex and Camping", that I worked on as Script Supervisor this summer.
Yay trailers- click here.

Ok dudes, my blog has been bad and naughty lately. I haven't been writing as much as I'd like. I usually like to seperate my work world from my comedy world, but I'm pretty much giving up on that. Anyhow, I'm getting ready to go to LA next week. We'll be there from the 6th to the 12th, and I'll be walking the red carpet at the gay porn awards. yay fun yay. Still hoping to find an open mike while I'm out there.

And if you are in the NYC area on Sunday evening, please check out Hoboken Comedy Night. It's my first time producing a comedy show since Capitol goga and I hope I still have the magic to make it happen. The acts are super super funny, so Hoboken should be fuckin lucky I am shovin this awesomeness in its pretty little face. Yeah that's the attitude. Take it bitch, take it. You like that, city suburb you? Do you like it on your fat little brownstone lined street corner? I'm gonna shove my comedy all up in your PATH and then make you a steamy Benny Tudino's pizza all over your sweet little Elysian Fields ...

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Dear job,

I like you, really I do.
You've got a lot of dick in you, much more, in fact, than any previous employment I have, uh, been employed by and stuff.
You're fun.
You've got great style.
But what's with all the fucking emails? Seriously.
And could you not make me do so much stuff?
Why can't you just give me money and then we have a fancy fun party, knockin around moraccas and eating delicious snacks. I like combos but sometimes I'd rather have cornnuts. That's just me. I am a unique individual.
Anyhow, like I said, I enjoy you. I've got a lot less to complain about you than most other jobs. Sometimes you're hard and stressful and overwhelming and overpowering my life. But you make me smile, job. Maybe it's cause you've got such great cheekbones, for a job anyway.
I guess I just need to take a nap, and I'll probably feel better about you in the morning. You know what, in retrospect, you're not bad. I think we just need a little space. I think I am going to go out with my friends tonight. You can't come.

See you in the morning :)

Love,
H to the Rezzlle.