Thursday, May 31, 2007
Bruce Springsteen's Downbound Train:
The Beatles: Maxwell's Silver Hammer
(clip from "Let it Be")
Now that you mentioned them, why don't you guess the number of people who mentioned my shoes tonight without my prompting? I don't remember! How about the number of people who raved about my shoes when I brought them up (which was all night)? Oh, I don't know, everyone?!?
Number of months I've been waiting for cabs to go finally credit card (but not equipped with t.v. screens):18
And the one night in my life I get into a taxi which is credit card capable, I'm flush with cash and so busy placing an elephant shoe into the "Oh, Shit!" Handle to show it off to a companion that I don't even notice the new technology until I get home and upload pictures to Flickr.
But hey, how cute are my elephant shoes!
Anne's Elephant Shoes, Made in China, May 30, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
San Fran to LA $11.81, LA to San Diego $5.45..."
Tonight I'll be at Mo Pitkin's to see Mortified. I'm not in tonight's cast, but instead I'll be in the audience snickering with empathy.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
I bawled my eyes out during a PBS D.C. Memorial Day Special hosted by Colin Powell and Jimmy Smits and others. Came outta nowhere. Ok, not exactly nowhere. I cried when an actress (whose name escapes me right now) read aloud the letters a mother had written to her son every week while sitting in front of his headstone at Arlington. Gut-wrenching. This morning, I read that President Jackass went somewhere today to give his condolences to more grieving mothers. Makes me sick. Jive Talker. If I was one of those poor mothers and this SOB tried to give me a hug, I'd kick him in the junk. Or, to avoid a secret service beatdown, diss him like Alicia Silverstone blew off Elisabeth Hasselbeck, that's for sure.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
December 2006's Smithsonian Magazine had a great article by Fergus M. Bordewich on the fate of the Arabia Steamboat. A submerged tree sank the Arabia in 1856 while making its journey which began in the Monongahela River in Pennsylvania. Among it's passengers were soldiers to forts in Montana, Mormon settlers on route to Utah, and it's cargo contained thousands of items for barter or sale in the Western frontier. The boat sank in less than ten minutes, but all 130 passengers and the crew survived.
I work in a highrise in lower Manhattan in a building with sweeping views of the waters which surround the tip of the island. The boats I see are the water taxis to New Jersey, the Staten Island Ferry, and occasionally a tug pushing a barge. In Mark Twain's day, the waters would have been bumper to bumper steamboats. They were the SUVs, and the rivers in which they navigated, the I95.
David Hawley and his brother and father searched for the remains of the Arabia deep below the cornfields of Kansas, land which was once river. What they found in the excavation is incredible, a real buried treasure of the historical kind. A time capsule from 1856. A case of brandied cherries, whale-oil lamps, syrup jugs, overcoats and top hats, bottles of wine, "Dr. Hostetter's Stomach Bitters," lice combs, jars of skin cream, flasks of perfume, Parisian buttons, glass beads imported from Italy and Bohemia, clay pipes, and my favorite: a jar of pickles.
I found the pickle part fascinating because, well, I totally love pickles (Hello, Quiznos pickle bar), but also because my Grama Altman was quite a pickler back the day. She had a garden from which she canned and jarred vegetables and fruit with amazing results. When we were selling the old house, we decided to have a kegger to clean the joint and remove it's remaning contents. When we opened up the door to Gram's root cellar (She said "root" like it rhymed with "foot") we found a jar of electric green pickles from the early seventies. My Aunt Betsy said she remembered Gram had put too much food coloring in that season. Our friend Carol grabbed the jar, opened the top, and it went "Pop!" and she ate a pickle without even a second's hesitation. We recoiled in horror. She said it was good.
Naturally, I was curious about the state of a pickle jar 100 years more vintage than the electric green variety, particularly a batch submerged in water and dirt for 20 more than that. Story has it that a fellow excavator of the Hawleys named Jerry Mackey also opened this particular jar just minutes after they had unearthed it, and he passed it around the group. No takers. "Well, I'm starving," said he, as he picked out a pickle and bit off the end --while everyone else held their noses-- "That's one very good pickle." Awww, pickling. You're an awesome process! Provided, of course, you're done correctly and you pop like you're supposed to.
The Hawleys started a museum which contains the remains of the Arabia and it's contents (over 700 objects) aptly named the Arabia Steamboat Museum. The next time (the first time) I'm in Kansas City, I'm paying a visit! Time capsules: Awsesome. Incidentally, there may be a time capsule buried in the backyard of my old house in Swampscott, Massachusetts, folks, containing some crap from 1976. Warning, before you all start booking flights to Boston and start digging, you must know there's the chance it's already been unearthed. By me. I never was one for that patience thing. I seem to remember digging it up in 1977 because I couldn't wait (or I wanted something out of the box), making it significantly less interesting. Ah, well. Me. Sigh.
I still love Rosie, and for once, I love Donald Trump. Apparently he has since sided with Rosie in this recent meow meow on The View by saying something to the effect of "Elisabeth Hasselbeck is one of the dumber people on television." Word. Word to the Big Bird word.
It is with great pleasure that I introduce to you, Easy Lover, by Phil Collins and Philip Bailey. Let me tell you somethin': She'll get a hold on you, believe it. Before you know it? You'll be on your knees. So, you might want to get ready for that shit. Ok, bye.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Where this song puts me (please note, the video is subtitled with incorrect lyrics, just go with and karaoke like you know you want to):
Back at a birthday party at Cheryl Yanofsky's house after she had moved to those condos near the mall. There was dancing. I remember Driver's Seat playing and Larry Kahn doing the "steering wheel." Sharon was there."Membah that, Sha?"
BHDO1LP: [smoking cigarette] --puff, puff--GIMME SOME COFFEE."--puff, puff--
BHDO1LP: --puff, puff--GIMME SOME COFFEE.--puff, puff--
BHDO1LP: --puff, puff--GIMME SOME COFFEE.--puff, puff--
You: I said, no.
BHDO1LP: --puff, puff--GIMME SOME PUSSY THEN. --puff, puff--
Good: Bacardi Silver 03. Tastes like a nice diet creamsicle soda. But with a kick--so vacuuming the house on a Saturday night of a holiday weekend by yourself makes you feel like you could be at a BBQ, and if you squint, the sofa covered in cat hair looks more like a swimming pool. Provided you have tunes on and a cute hat. Oh, and your new elephant shoes.
- Gross: Organic Goji Berries. Don't shop after happy hour. I had two beers (Two Can Anne), and I bought these afterwards while stumbling around Whole Foods. I sincerely regret the purchase. Sure, goji berries are apparently the secret to immortality, and the first flavor to hit your tongue is sweet. But then sweet turns to salty, followed immediately by a strong rotten fish eyeball finish which lingers. Tastes like death. Ironic, no?
The Golden Years
All I do these drawn-out days
- 2 cups Jose Cuervo Golden Margarita (a mix of tequila, Grand Marnier, and lime)
- 2 cups dry red wine
- 1 lemon, 1 lime, 1 orange, all sliced
- 1 cup seedless grapes, sliced
- 1 large pitcher
Mix all ingredients in the pitcher and refrigerate until chilled.
Friday, May 25, 2007
What you call a dude who turns out to be blonde when you meet him in person. Not the hot dark-haired fella whom you had fantasized him to be. Generally not an appealing surprise, to meet a blonde. Once a person recognizes that they have just been surprised by a blonde, the event is usually followed by a sigh.
~synonyms:disappointment. bummer. lame.
Sorry, toeheads. Blondes don't float my boat. Or whatever the kids are saying these days. Liz ain't keen on them either. So...beat it.
*term created by liz.
Surely I've mentioned my brand new elephant shoes? They're so adorable. So so so so so so so cute. I pity the fool who hangs out with me tonight when I'm wearing these puppies. Not only will I ignore everything that you do or say, I will constantly interrupt you with comments like the following:
- "Can you believe how cute these are? They had 'em in a kitty too, but those were gold and I wanted silver. More versatile. Don't say anything to Doodle."
- "Did you see my new shoes? Lookit!"
- "Nineteen beans, bitches. Alright, 20 beans. At Century's. [pointing to my toes] Cute! And comfortable! Even when they were attached with that plastic zip cord, I could tell just hobbling around that they were gonna be comfortable."
- "Look at my shoes. They are so cute!"
- "Hi, I'm an elephant!" (impersonates an elephant by weakly bringing my elbow up to my nose and swaying it outwards like a trunk)
- I hate to interrupt you guys, but I just wanted to point out something: (points to shoes) Got it? Good. Glad to hear it.
- Seriously (points to shoes), have you seen shoes this cute in a long time? No, no you haven't. I know! They're awesome! Awwww....shoes.
- "Did you notice the elephants? At first you just think it's like a flowery decoration, right? I know! They're so cute!"
- "Hey, (twiddling my toes), remember us? The cute shoes? Hey! Yay!"
- "We've been talking and talking and drinking and drinking and you haven't complimented me on my cute new elephant shoes in like, a long time. At least a half hour. Bring it. Tell me good stuff about my shoes and why they're so great."
- "OMG, 'member when I didn't have these cute shoes and then it was like, bang! Suddenly I had them, and nobody can imagine life without me having them, you know?"
- "Oh, hi, shoes! I love you."
PS: You too, Renee Zellweger. You're skinny too. We get it. You don't have to stand in that Hands-Clutching-the-Hips-Fucked-Up-Contortionist Pose for us to see that you're skinny too.
PPS Renee, one more thing, may I ask you if there any other reason why this happens to be your favorite pose? Because it's really terrible. When you pose like this, your favorite way, you appear to have a disfiguring disease that forces you to stand hunched over. A severe scoliosis, if you will. Or what the Elephant Man had. It makes people uncomfortable. Take me, for example. It makes me uncomfortable. And you don't even have what he had, so why the heck are you standing like that? Gas? A clever way to squeak out a toot? Your intestines seizing because from lunch at that fuckin' Sam's Falafel Cart across the street from my office--which, I might add, I've warned you and everyone else in the world who reads this blog about as the post falafel experience can only be described as Violent)--, but whatevs. I can't tell you what to do.
`YES, yes I can. For the love of Christ will you STOP DOING THAT?!!?!!
You're not gonna get any straight men to marry you with that vogue. Would you stand up straight, push those titties out and get your shit together, already? Thanks. Bye.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Please stop funding the inhumane exotic wildlife trade. You are not equipped to take care of a python, an alligator, a cheetah, a monkey. Chicks don't think it's cool that you have animals like these in your crappy apartment, and they're still not going to bang you. It's cruel, not cool. And you're even more lame when you realize that the animal has grown out of the Mr. Turtle pool so you then dump it in the nearest body of water.
As you were.