Saturday, September 30, 2006

Anneurysm #24

Roxanne by the Police will never not be a song that drivers love to blare out of open windows.

In their defense, it is a great driving song. Or even a great walking song. Or just plain sitting. It's great sitting too. Check it.

They Race Cars in Heaven, Don't They?

They sure do. Here is my favorite monument in Barre, Vermont's Hope Cemetery. This guy died in the early 90s in his early 20s, and left a wife and two kids behind. Now he's doin' donuts in Heaven's Parking Lot. Click here for more pictures that I (took better with my camera but...) don't have the patience to post!

Friday, September 29, 2006

The Oldest Public School in the Nation: Boston Latin est. 1635

Hooray for public schools! Too bad they suck now. Thanks, White House. This one is so competetive however, I bet they still offer "frivolous things" like sports. And art. And lunch.

Kelly Likes Shoes

Seriously? If you don't click on this link, Doodle and I might have to kill you and your family with our bare hands. Trust me, Doodle will have no problem with this. I will. Don't make me do it. You know I'm not a violent person, I catch and release fucking flies for chrissakes. Kelly is the music you hear on myveryownspace, and they have their own damn space. Shoes. Let's get some shoes. OHMYGODSHOES.

The Hope Cemetery in Barre, Vermont

There's a granite quarry in Barre called Rock of Ages and a cemetery called Hope. Both have been there since forever, and the rocks have been there longer. Italian stone carvers came over to this country to work and settled in up Granite City, the site of the quarry. The rich ones are buried in Hope, a cemetery which is nothing less than an incredible (and free) outdoor art museum dedicated to honoring the dead in granite masterpieces.

My mother and I took a day trip to all the quarry and the cemetery one cloudy day on my vacation, and let me tell you, it was completely fascinating. OFF THE HOOK. And when I say OFF THE HOOK, which isn't very often, if at all, actually, it's good. You just know it's got to be good. These monuments went from the ridiculous to the sublime! There are not only stunning mausoleums in classic Greek style, but a carving of Coca-Cola truck because the deceased drove a Coca-Cola truck. There's a comb and scissors because the deceased-to-be is a barber. A his and hers carving of a husband and wife playing golf on either side of the monument? Got it. I took over 200 pictures that day, here are just a few. Click on them to make them larger. Read here for more information and more photos about Hope Cemetery.

This man was a husband, a father, a salesman a nature lover, and each are written and pictured on 4 of the 6 sides of this cube. The fifth thing is Together, symbolizing his marriage to his wife, depicted with the intertwining wedding bands. I can't remember what the 6th thing Mr. Martel is. Dead?
Only the best for the Red Baron.

Soccer anyone?

Doodle's got her stone picked out.

And I've got mine! All I need is a few million dollars. Anyone? Bueller?

It's Friday Night and I Just Got Paid--Scratch That, No I Didn't

Yes, it's Friday night around here at Two Can Anne Headquarters. Can't you just hear the beat of the club music? I'm bringing sexy back... I'm bringing sexy back...

Going through some photos tonight, I came across some nice ones that I'll post to celebrate end of summer, and the beginning of fall. Tonight there's a chill in the air, and Sam Champion says it may be the coldest night of the year so far, perhaps dipping into the 40s. Like I may have to do with this new dating service.

Enjoy my pictures from August 2006 in Vermont.

The barn: Doodle's favorite home

Barn Window: Where Doodle does her bird watching from the safety and relaxation of the third floor-- full of dead flies--on an old Victorian fainting couch which reeks of racoon piss and is covered in boxes. We're guessing at the piss type here.

Doodle on her gnarly chaise lounge with a friend whom apparently she caught LAST summer and brought up to her third floor smelly chaise lounge for the purpose of recreation, not sustenance. Picture your best friend, but he's nothing but a mouse skeleton with a tail and a bit of fur. Nice. I didn't have the heart to get rid of her friend. Or the stomach. But she had no problem snoozing next to his corpse. Cold-hearted freak, that Doodle.

Here is Doodle in more palatable photo, scratching her back underneath the clothes line. How cute are cat knees? They're insane. So cute they need to be broken Sopranos-style. Completely adorable.

Finally, my sister's coffee on the dock the morning we had to bring in the canoe and lock up the shed for the winter. She likes it light and sweet. Look, a leaf already.

Going Through Photos From the Summer, It Appears My Family Drinks

Does yours?

Lord Nose Everybody's Working For the Weekend

Got plans?

I had tons until I realized unemployed people can't party like it's 1999; I've got to party like it's 1933.

Tomorrow it's Oktoberfest at the Astoria Beer Garden. Who says the Czechs can't party like Krauts? They share a love of snausages, don't they?

Saturday September 30th, 2006 - Astoria Beer Garden Annual October-fest

Mark your calendars... we'll be rolling-in the barrels to offer you some of the best beer ever made. You don't want to miss this one. Starting at 1PM till 10PM. We are featuring 2 bands, the Pilsner Brass Band and the Czech Polka Cruisers, a band from Texas.We will have plenty of imported and local beers. Food will be available from our restaurant or BBQ grill. We will have both Czech and American style food available. Admission is only $10 or $5 for BCBSA members. Children under 12 free. Please mark your calendar and plan to attend.



Thanks to a kind donation of a laptop after mine crashed, I am able to communicate with the world. However, my resume is another story. I just loaded Microsoft Office Works Suite 2002 (which I own from my broken down computer) so I can update my resume to 100s of folks dying in anticpation to receive it. However, I'm missing some pesky information. The serial code. Which is like 20 some odd digits. Which was on the back of the jewel cases. Which I threw out years ago when I switched from jewel cases to CD binders. Which means I'm seriously screwed. Any suggestions before I start flinging things out of the window? Please email me. Thanks.

PS I perused this site called serial code crackers or some shit like that, just to see what it was all about, and not only did it not have the information I needed, but it bombarded me with pictures of stuffed bald vaginas. Now I'm ill. Great.

Finally, Howard Gets a Real Piece of the Pie

Poor Anna Nicole Smith. Her son died tragically just after she gave birth to a daughter in the Bahamas. That is too terrible for words. And then it was revealed that the father of the baby is allegedly none other than her former attorney, Howard K. Stern, who has been in love with her and all over her like a bum on a baloney sandwich since he became her lawyer back in the day. He loved her fat, he loved her obese, he loved her thin, he loves her now. Remember him on the Anna Nicole Show? I couldn't decide who was more irritating, Anna or Howard. But I like stories about the mensch getting the hot blonde with big tits in the end. Sure, she may have conceded to a wedding (which apparently is not binding) because she's grieving, but whatevs. She needs him and he needs her. Either way, I hope it works out.

Have a Little Brandy

My friend Brandy is proof enough to me that I've revised a ubiquitous slogan to my taste:

Great Minds Die Alone in Their Apartments to Be Chewed on by Their Former Feline Companions.

Hatefully Charming.: The Making of XANADU.#links

But... But... But...

Do you ever run into those people who have such an intimidating demeanor that they make you feel like you're lying when you're not? Let me explain.

About six months ago I read in Harper's Bazaar (I was in the nail salon. Bite me) about this dating service that matches "discriminating males" with amazing broads or something like that. Essentially, the guys who feel they don't have time for the dating scene because they're too busy running their Fortune 800 companies or whatever will pay serious cash to this service which for the purposes of this story I'll call Prude Dude, just in case I get fired from yet another opportunity because of this blog. The ladies don't pay (that's how I like it) they just have to fill out the questionnaire and wait. If Prude Dude is interested, they'll contact you. I filled out the online questionnaire and forgot about it, figuring they weren't interested.

A few days ago, a Prude Dude rep called me to tell me they were interested in meeting me. Could I meet for coffee with the company president the next day? Coincidentally, I could. So, I left a message on her voicemail. No return call. Then it was that next day, the day supposedly for coffee. I hadn't heard back. So, I left another message on the cellphone the representative left, I'll call her Stacy. No return call.

Whatever, bitches and rich gross guys!

Yesterday the phone rang. "Anne? Hi! It's Sandra, the president of Prude Dude! How are you?"

"Fine, thank you, how are you?"
"Great. Listen, I was in town the other day and wanted to meet you."
"Yes, I understand that."
"Why didn't you call us back?"
"I did."
"You did?"
"Um ( I truly forget when I called back, so it's sounding like a lie.) Monday?"
"But I was in town on Tuesday. Could you have met me on Tuesday?"
"Yes, well, I called and left a message with Stacy."
"When? I really would have liked to have met you but you didn't call us back."
"But I did (Stutter, feeling like i'm lying but i'm not). Twice. With Stacy. (Here's where I should have said, Your problem getting messages lies with Stacy but I didn't because I'm an a-hole.)
"Ok, well we have a few special men we have in mind, to meet you, someone who is also very special." (Now i'm trying to think what exactly I did put in that questionnaire)
"Oh, thanks."
"Now, would you mind increasing the age range in the age requirement? You put down no one over 40."
"(sigh) That's fine. (frustrated with my own double standard and grossed out by the prospect of grey chest hair poking out of the top of a shirt)"
"Ok, well then when would you like to meet for coffee with me? Or should we just call you again when we're in town to meet you."
"Just call me."
"Ok, great. Bye, Anne!"

She's a Bad Mamma Jamma

Doodle, 9/29/06

Suddenly I Have a Headache: I Blame the BBC

The BBC produces a good radio news program because the reporters ask the hard-hitting questions of shifty politicians to the point of embarrassment for the listener. That is good.

What is bad: listen too long to these BBC radio hosts' annoying accents, and soon your find your brains dripping out of your ears and onto your keyboard. There are four or five hosts I'm familiar with, Owen Bennett Jones is one and he's bad but not the worst. There's a broad who makes my hair turn white, and it's not her this morning. I don't know who is on today, but soon they'll be off because I can't listen anymore. Headache.

Proof I've Always Loved Rainy Days

I'm trying to go through some old crap around here and I came across a booklet called "Writing Journal" which apparently is something we had to keep in one of my classes in elementary school. The first entry:
Rainy Days
Rainy days make me feel happy sometimes because I know that the rain is helping the flowers and plants so they will grow. And I also like to walk in the rain. It makes me feel happy.
Anne Altman, April 5, 1979
Wow. What a crappy piece of crap. But, 'tis proof that I've always loved rainy days. And it's raining today! Yay! So, suck it.

I Don't Feel Like Cleaning My House

Do you feel like cleaning my house?

Ok, great.



One Hairy Reason Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Sigfried and his stalker named Doodle, 2003
R.I.P. Sigfried

You Like Fermented Horse Urine? I Like Fermented Horse Urine!

Borat Sagdiyev (also known as Sacha Baron Cohen) was in Washington D.C. yesterday. Having been rejected admission to the White House by security, he stood outside of the Kazakhstani Embassy to make remarks including:

"Jagshemash, my name Borat Sagdiyev. ... I would like comment on recent advertisements on television and in media about my nation of Kazakhstan, saying that women are treated equally, and that all religions are tolerated — these are disgusting fabrications."

I cannot wait to see his movie, "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America For Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan"

Oh, I'm in love. Of course, he's probably already got a lady. They always do. We're myspace friends, you know. No, I'm not bragging, I'm just saying. Yes, there is a difference.


Doodle, 9/29/06

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Bryant Gumbel Needs To Be Repeatedly Punched 'Til He Goes Away

Hello. I was flipping channels tonight and was sucked into an interesting story about the 1970's Pittsburgh Pirates and their cocaine-running mascot, the Parrot. I was fascinated with baseball's first drug scandal, and the fact that the Parrot was doing most of the running and the pitcher was doing most of the snorting. Pittsburgh Pirates' Rod Scurry wasn't the only pitcher to love the drugs; here's an amazing story about Dock Ellis and his LSD no hitter! And those Pirate baseball hats? Hilarious! They look like Long Island Railroad hats! "Tickets, please!"

The only problem is that it was Bryant Gumbel doing the story, as it was his show, Real Sports.

His problem? He is unbelievably annoying. Always was. Always will be. Why did he not get fired for saying shit about the NFL?
His older brother Greg Gumbel? The one with the afro who gave into his weight problem and comments on football games? I like him. He's the good Gumbel.

greg. the good gumbel.

Greg's not the one looking at you like you're an asshole, talking to you like you're an asshole. The disposition is all very G.W. Bush-like without the retardation and more snippy with Bryant. In a nutshell, he thinks he's so great. He looks like a guy who is not fun to be with, a guy who you'd cringe to play Scrabble with, and totally friggin' smug. Blecccchhh. Bleechhh, I say!

bryant. the bad gumbel

Aw, Man, She Had to Use the 50/50

If You're On Survivor, and Someone Says They Trust You

Don't trust them.

Trust me.

What's Up With Me, You Ask?

Well, the majority of today was spent listing things I own --but don't want to own anymore-- on eBay. So far, so good. I've got 3 people "watching" this one thing, and nobody watching the other two. Yet. Right now I'm trying to type up a clever description of this "buttery soft" black leather jacket I need not to have anymore. I figure the clever-er it is, the more action it will get on the "circuit." The story about the jacket is inherently interesting, as I bought it impulsively for a stupid friggin' date I had with a gross guy. Let that be a lesson to all of you contemplating buying leather jackets impulsively for stupid friggin' dates with gross guys.It won't work with you and the gross guy, and more importantly, it won't work between you and the jacket. You'll find yourself on and eBay in no time.

I Love Bingo Masks


Bingo Mask will have folks shouting more than "Bingo"! They'll be startled at the sight of this full-face mask and cap combo that'll create a sensation at Halloween gatherings or costume parties. Female mask sports gray hair, lipstick and rouged "cheeks", male has oversized "jowls", nose and ears. Made of lightweight latex with eye, nose and mouth openings. Caps adjust to fit all sizes.

E6331 — Bingo Mask (Male)

E6330 — Bingo Mask (Female)

Buy one for your mother here.

Let's Paws For Dr. Phil, Shall We?

Things My Mother Loves

Dear Nancy O'Dell

Dear Nancy O'Dell
Your hair really looks like hell
You're tall, you're thin
You host a popular show
There's no need for you
to look like a 'ho
What you need is a good haircut
One that won't make you look like a slut
Because you're 41 this year
And it's all very clear
I say this because I care
So never fear, be a dear
a poem by anne altman, all rights reserved

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

What You Gonna Do?

With all that cat up in your grill?

Sure, Doodle has been bombarded by her human companion's penchant for papparazzi of late, but I feel it's only fair to share that she's up in my grill as much (if not more) than I am up in hers. I catch her at the laptop signing in as me, reading comments, leaving comments, it's ridiculous. Or, she's sitting on my lap as I blog and telling me what to do. Now that I'm posting more pictures of her, she's demanding all kinds of editorial rights. Frankly, I feel I'm being bullied. Bitch, get off my jock! And my computer!

A Walk to the Dentist and Home Depot: In Pictures

Doodle wasn't much help in psyching me up for the cleaning at the dentist. I can understand why. We get her toothbrush and liver-flavored toothpaste out once every couple months, she hates it, I hate that she hates it, she doesn't talk to me for about an hour, I give her a treat, and we forget the whole thing ever happened. Anyway, it sucked, like I thought it would. And my hygenist is annoying. She may be as bad as the scraping.

Lady, there's no need to sport those metallic wedge pumps or that teal leather bag. I don't care if they're Chanel, nothing could distract anyone from that Mt. Kilamanjaro back pack. You might as well be wearing two different shoes, one with a hole in it and the other dragging a shitty piece of toilet paper. A nice pair of sneaks is what a practical, fast-walking-to- th- subway type of gal like yourself needs. Don't bother with fashion. It's not your bag.

Phew, ok, that's better. A nice pretty top of a building.

Ahh, I love old office buildings pre-1960. They're all very solid and Clark Kent-y. Look at this door knob. Now this is a door knob. Not that plastic gold thing that spins and spins on a piece of foam core door that makes you feel like if you turn it to tight you might snap it off. That's not a real knob. Lance Armstrong is a real knob, but that isn't. This is. Brass or glass, baby.

And look at these wooden doors, these terrazzo floors. Solid. The ingredients for echoing hallways and a door that makes you want to slam it for the sheer noise of it all. Makes you miss the days of slave labor when you could get great work for nothin'. Slam a door these days and it doesn't make a whiff. Imagine being a surly teen growing up in a trailer and trying to slam your plastic snap accordion door. "I hate you! zzzzzip/snap!" Not the same dramatic effect, I'm sure. How you gonna get grounded for that?

I figured this Home Depot plant I bought last month deserved something better than the ghetto green plastic container it came in, even though Doodle bit the shit out of it. I'm not even sure it's still alive, to be honest with you. How can you tell when a plant is dead? Anyway, I chose the one on the right. 6 bucks. Self-checkout. Check it.

It's Time to Bless the Pets

Or rather, it's time to bless the human companions. This was recommended to me by someone who thought I might be interested in bringing Doodle cat uptown for a little exorcism. She hasn't been to church since Sigfried's funeral. You know, Sigfried the goldfish, won at the San Gennaro festival a few years ago whom she killed in a tragic accident by pushing the "cat proof" screen into his face whilst fishing?

She'd go just to see the camel. Or better yet, the smell of camel crap. Doodle's gross.

Pre-Dentist Ritual

I just finished flossing and brushing my teeth 16 times today so that my dentist doesn't think that I don't floss and brush 16 times a day.

Wish me luck.

Anne's Christmas Wishlist #1

I know I'm getting ahead of myself here since it's not even Halloween yet, but I wanted to put some bugs in your ears about what would make a great Christmas Gift. For me. And everyone else in your life.

In my opinion, there aren't enough Mock Turtlenecks with Quaint Printed Designs in the world. Get one for someone you love. If you don't, you clearly don't love them enough.

$12.99 each if you buy three, you know. Ah, Blair. You know just what I need.

Doodle's Revenge

Good Morning, 9/27/06
It should also be noted that yesterday Doodle apparently jumped up on the kitchen counter and ate the turkey out of the half sandwich I had sitting there as if to say, Snooze: Lose. She left the tomato and cheese for me.