Rebel Without a Job

Doodle, 9/26/06

I Love Being Belittled By a Little President

President Bush reacted oh so undefensively and in typical form to the declassification of the report (which was produced by his own administration) that the Iraq war has made the threat of terrorism worse by saying that those of us who believe this are "naive" because the idea is "preposterous."

What?

Is he saying that the war in Iraq has not created many more angry punks all over the place with headbands and Kalashnikovs and nothing to live for who want to kill us and everyone who associates with us? I know I was at my personal level of fill before the war, thank you very much, and I'm willing to bet that more than 50% of the people in the U.S. (if not the world) agree with me. My people: The naive and preposterous. I'm just waiting for him to call me a stupid idiot. It's around the corner, I just know it.

I love this quality, this belittling, always right disposition? Especially in a man. Reminds me of my ex-boyfriend's father. Great guy. Really respected his wife's opinion. Once when she was showing off her nails to me, fresh from the salon, he said, "You got your nails done? In that color? It's ugly. I hate that color. What idiot gets that color? What's for dinner? Tacos? I hate tacos. What a stupid idea. I can do 50 one-armed pushups. What can you do? None. That's right, none. Don't be stupid." Miss him!

The Robot: Always Funny

Ok, I couldn't resist posting another video of another news reporter, this time covering the violent crime beat in some podunk town. There are several instances of funny in this little flick. I watched it 3 times, but it's early yet.

They're Gonna Jack Off the Cost of Heating My Home?

Unacceptable! I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore! But first I'm going to laugh at this stupid shit a few more times.

In My Netflix Queue

Sleepaway Camp.

Supposedly it will be delivered today. Oh, the horror!


Spoiler:
If you want to cheat and see the ending, go here. Surprise!

I Found My Bank Card

You know, the one I lost, panicked over, and cancelled? Yeah, that one. I found it. Now I have two. One works.

Have I Told You Lately How Annoying Zach Braff Is?

Well, if not, let me tell you. Zach Braff is annoying.

He really crept up on me with his annoyingness. At first, he was a blip on the screen: the awkward, facial-expressiony and lippy star of Scrubs. But then he put out the movie Garden State, began dating Mandy Moore, made more tabloids photographed outside of his scrubs, gave interviews that made me want to punch him and hug Mandy when she finally dumped him. I could say more, but Josh Levin says it better.

Butterfly Conspiracy?

The thing with having bangs is, you have to "do" them. Sort of. Anyone who still sports a terrible 80s hairdo knows this well, but I (not having the wispy bangs that my hairstylist Butterfly recently talked me into since the 8th grade) seem to have forgotten this. Tonight I left my hair wet just a little too long and went out this evening too see a show (called "News to Me," review to follow) where I apparently sported "funny bangs" and was the subject of kind-hearted ribbing from my friends.

"Nice bangs."

Are the bangs are cute and do they make me look younger? Yes. But since the "bang cutting" a few months ago, I've found that the only way to rectify things when the bangs get too long is not to be a cheap-ass and cut them myself like I did in Junior High (and 2.5 weeks ago): twist them into a rope and cut straight across--but instead, go visit Butterfly to fix the problem. I created. Or she created? Which led me to the theory that perhaps that is what Butterfly wanted all along: me to visit my hairstylist more frequently. Darn it all! Just like the damn dentist! More visits require more time and money invested! All in the name of teeth and hair!

Neeny would say that pesky things like hair and teeth are dragging me down and draining my bank account. I remember once on a visit to my grandmother seeing my dear Aunt Neeny with some strange bruising on her face near her jaw. "I was tired of having my teeth fall out and all those visits to the dentist, so I had him pull 'em all," she said.

"Of course. Problem solved!" I replied, with a weak, uncomfortable smile. Are those bruises from the dentist's shoe on her jaw as he pried and pried with his two hands, a plier, and all his might?

Her line: "Why did God have to go and create teeth and hair?!?!"

I don't know, Neeny, I just don't know. But Dr. Castellano and Butterfly may have an idea.

I'm going to hold out until my wisps are poking me in the retinas, but I do have a dentist appointment on Wednesday and I'll make sure to talk to the hygenist and see what she has to say. These days, Dr. Castellano only has time for a "Hi, how are you, great teeth, did you have braces? See you in six months!" it seems.

Side By Side

Boy, Doodle cat and I sure do love hanging out together. It's dinner time, and she just gave me that look. That "Where's my dinner, bitch?" look.

My favorite reply is always, "If it was up your ass you'd know where it was!"

And we laugh, and laugh, and laugh. It's totally one of my favorite things to say. I guess it's more me laughing and less her laughing. Sure, she doesn't appreciate it as much as I do, obviously, but whatevs, you know?

Shock! Horror! Disbelief!

I am saddened to deliver the following news: Aaron Carter has called off his engagement to his older brother's ex-girlfriend, a former Playboy Playmate!

Shock! Horror! Disbelief!

!

!

!

Who the hell is Aaron Carter?

Gummy Cola Bottles: Little Pieces of Heaven

I'm crazy for these things. And sour gummy cola bottles? Forget about it. Insanely delicious and ridiculous. Gummy cola bottles should be a staple in everyone's kitchen. Add in some soup, noodles, peas, and tuna, and you've got yourself a Tuna Noodle Gummy Cola Bottle Casserole.

The Dr. Phil House Was Rough Today

Doodle, 9/25/06

Doodle was disgusted with the behavior of these two blobs in front of their kids. I was just tired of looking at the dude's jean shorts, white socks, and white sneaks. There is something about those acidy washed, hemmed a few inches just above the knee, practical denim shorts on men that makes me very angry. And violent.

Plus, the close-up personal web diary of the wife who has been cheating on her husband is gross because she's a slobbering, hyper-ventilating, red-eyed, boogery mess, a la Blair Witch Project. (See for yourself, here).Since half of Dr. Phil is commercials and previews for upcoming scenes, they kept replaying it to our chagrin. Doodle was like, "Shut the fuck up, already!" Bleeccchh.

Construction across the avenues for a brand new view-blocking and unaffordable highrise (yay!) is irritating; add that to the piano "playing" by my upstairs neighbor's kid who's got all kinds of problems, and yours truly is truly stressed out. Time for Cable On-Demand Exercise television. Hula or belly dancing today?

Shhhhh: Doodle's Christmas Present

Direct marketing is highly annoying and utterly effective! The company from which I purchased Doodle's Water Fountain has just spammed my inbox with a listing of their new products. I was about to hit delete when I saw this:

A little cat grass garden hanger thingie! So Doodle can get all of her green nutrients in between yearly visits to Vermont instead of biting the shit out of my Home Depot plants which I stopped buying regularly because she was biting the shit out of them?

Doodle's worth it.

Anne's Visit to the 2006 San Gennaro Festival

Last night was the final day of the San Gennaro feast in Little Italy, a much-loved 79-year old tradition of greasy food and greasy people. Oh, right--and a salute to San Gennaro himself, the Patron Saint of Naples. I would have stuck some dollar bills on that cat and everything but having lost my job and all...

Here is a series of photos I managed to take before my battery pack ran out. What you won't see: the Dunk the Clown Tank. That bitch was sinking too fast for a clear photo. What you will see: Guidos, guidettes, cops, fried Oreo's (you know how much I love the possessive Oreo), greasy zeppoles in paper bags, and last but not least, hip, very current stuffed toys like Gizmo. Step right up, folks, even if you lose, you win.

The best part of the evening that is not documented here was an incredible live doo-wop band called "Just Friends." The majority of these guys were in their sixties, and their rendition of "In the Still of the Night" made me feel like I was back in the 1950's again. Very, very cool.

Pray For Her: Doodle Is a Bills Fan

Doodle, 9/24/06

Given that, it's needless to say, but Doodle had a bad day yesterday. Look how pissed she is here watching her team lose to the Jets! She kept shouting at the television set, "Why aren't we running the ball?" Her favorite player? Lee Evans. The Patriots also lost-- to Denver--which I was not prepared for. I mean, the Bills collapsed, sure, but The Patriots always win. Tom, what happened?

And the Giants!?! How about that nonsense? Losing by 30 in the first quarter and then scoring as many points in the 4th and still not pulling off a win? I just like to see Eli Manning--the whiniest looking Manning in the triumverate-- in pain.

But the best was Jeremy Shockey's seemingly endless locker room "interview" where he shit talked his way into a hole in a "momentary" lack of judgement: "We were outplayed...and outcoached; you can write that down..."

Abbondanza!

Hungry? I bet you are! You're looking at a couple of delicious whole wheat pita mini pizzas made right here in the Two Can Anne Kitchen. How did I make them? Here's the recipe:

Turn your oven broiler up to...well, broil. That's like, as high as it can go. 500 something? Ok, wait for the oven to heat up and lightly brush pita bread with some extra virgin olive oil and a pinch of kosher salt.

When the oven is nice and hot, put the pitas in the bottom broiler, just for a second to crisp up before you put on the sauce. You don't want a soggy pizza. While they're lightly toasting, go into the bedroom and make the bed. Wait until you're about to smooth out the blanket (and before you fluff up the comforter, approximately 3 minutes) and then return to the kitchen which is now completely filled with smoke. Open up the broiler to find flames engulfing the pita breads and licking at the exterior of the oven.

Freak out.

Go to shut the oven door for a second, and then realize it's probably not a good idea to let it burn out in there. Consider throwing tap water on it, and then remember that you're not supposed to throw water on a fire, it does nothing. Take box of kosher salt and throw it on fire. Fast. Turn off oven.

And you're done! Voila! Put them on the counter and take a picture of them. Offer them to Doodle. When she declines, throw them in the trash and start over with a new pita, this time only using the heat from the oven which almost caught on fire and destroyed your apartment building.

Eat and enjoy. Then consider that new toaster you have your eye on. For everyone's sake.

Poor Grammar Reigns During Football Season

Sure, I admit it: I'm a hyper-sensitive grammar Nazi. And during football season, it appears as if I'm the only one. I can either scream at the t.v., or blog about it. I've chosen to do both.

What, since advertisers are marketing to football lovers, they're assuming all football lovers do is eat, drink beer, watch football, and not read? And let's say that's the case, does nobody on the advertising/marketing team in the ad firm (or the client itself) read? Or at least farm out some proof reading?

First offender: KFC. KFC keeps touting it's $1 meal and how it takes your dollar "further." Ok, that's impossible. Further means: deeper, more extensively. It's not a unit of measurement or distance. KFC may take your dollar farther, but you may want to explore your options further and buy your deep fried chicken parts from a more intelligent vendor.

Second offender: NFLshop.com. Or something like that. This commercial stars the Manning Clan of Men and is so highly annoying that I can't seem to figure out what the company is. Papa Manning, Peyton, and Eli are running around the house; apparently Mom isn't home. They're making a big mess. They decide to make breakfast, and throw some eggs on the floor. Then they leave the kitchen. Here's where I go through the roof: we go to black screen and text which reads: The Manning's Are Ready For Football.

The possessive Manning-apostrophe-s'es?

Are you fucking apopstrophe-s kidding me? How about the Mannings-Plurally-Are Ready for Football but more importantly the Mannings Are Ready for a Punch in the Face? Sure, the Mannings didn't write the ad and are most likely not responsible for the Manning's are Ready for Football flub, but they're the closest thing to my fist at this point.

Plus, their big head's can take it.

Ahhh, I'm pissing in the wind here, I realize, but whatevs. Someone's gotta do it.

What Can You Get in Atlantic City Other Than Crabs?

1. Plastic Shoes
2. Stripper Shoes
3. Hooker Shoes
4. All of the above

If you picked 1, 2, 3, or 4, you'd be right. Let's say you're a hooker in Atlantic City, and you need yourself some shoes. Listen up: Take a left at Caesar's Palace, and walk away from the Boardwalk. Keep walking until you see outlets galore. Specifically, some shoe warehouse called Shoe Whorehouse or something like that. It's on your right.

Here's what you're going to find:

A hooker is only as good as her shoes. How are you gonna reel in the customer base if you're wearing a pair of Birkenstocks? You ain't, mama!

I couldn't very well critique the selection without trying on a pair myself. It's safe to say that I had the entire store cracking up. I'm not sure what was so funny; none of them bitches could rock these boots the way I did:

I'm not sure if I'd recommend these boots. They're too hot. I mean, sexy hot, yes, but also smokin' hot temperature type hot. I was sweating my balls off.
And you didn't think that I was that type of hooker!

It's Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

Time for football, football, football!

Who do we like? The Patriots? The Bills? The Eagles? The Jets? The Giants? Or do we not give a shit? My allegiance is most likely centered around Tom Brady and his Patriots, even though he's banging Bridget Monyahan and everything' so goddamned perfect with them. Then again, I do enjoy watching the Bills, and it's fun to watch Western New Yorkers get all excited about the prospect of winning football games; they're like the Red Sox fans of the NFL. Their "Let's Go Buffalo" song and their chicken wings taking the sting out of things when they go sour.

ESPN is showing a horrible show about idiots shooting deer. Nice football pre-show. I may need to watch this VHS of Rudy to get in the mood.

If You Love The Taste and Texture of Rubber...

...then you're going to love this bread!

Enjoy.

If You Dream About Elephants While You're Watching Football

Then you'll dream about an elephant that plays football. And he's yours. And you're such a stage mom, that you're all about him playing well, looking his best, getting enough time on the field, not being late for practice. One the last scenes in this dream I had was running up to the coach with Phong's best plays on index cards. All this was going on while Ohio State was beating Penn State. It was very exciting.

I'm strange.

Whoa...

...this is upsetting:

Joey Lawrence and his dance partner (another victim of the Spray Tan Epidemic)

on ABC's "Dancing with the Stars"

And and as a public service announement to those sad sacks who need reminding, here are the #1-10 reasons why men should not wax their eyebrows--please do yourself a favor and click here.

Thank you.

We Weren't Fat Kids

And we owe it all to and Miss Mary Mack and Miss Lucy and her friggin' steamboat.

When the little boys were playing 'Lord of the Flies" or "Let's Kill Something" we little girls were doing the opposite: clapping games. Do kids do this kind of stuff anymore? Not unless their Mommies pass it down, I suppose. I think it's fascinating to think how old these songs probably are, all passed down for the most part by word of mouth. The lyrics vary from state to state and even country to country. I know the Brits don't say "'til the fourth of July" in the last line of their version of the song. My best friend and I were all over this shit like bums on baloney sandwiches. This is how I remember singing them on the prairie, 63 years ago...

1. Clap own hands together
2. Cross arms in front of chest
3. Clap own hands together
4. Clap hands with partner three times

Miss Mary Mack

Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,
All dressed in black, black, black,
With silver buttons, buttons, buttons,
All down her back, back, back
She asked her mother, mother, mother,
For fifty cents, cents, cents,
To see the elephant, elephant, elephant.
Jump over the fence, fence, fence.
He jumped so high, high, high,
He reached the sky, sky, sky,
And he never came back, back, back,
‘Till the end of July, ‘ly, ‘ly.


Miss Lucy Had a Steamboat

Miss Lucy had a steamboat
The steamboat had a bell
The steamboat went to heaven
Miss Lucy went to ...

Hello operator
Give me Number 9
And if you disconnect me
I'll kick you in the...

Behind the fridgerator
There was a piece of glass
Miss Lucy fell upon it
And it went right up her...

Ask me no more questions
I'll tell you no more lies
The boys are in the bathroom
Zipping up their ...

Flies are in the city
Bees are in the park
Miss Lucy and her boyfriend
Are kissing in the ...

D-A-R-K

D-A-R-K

D-A-R-K

Dark!

Dark!

Dark!

Optional Second Verse If We Remembered It:

Miss Lucy had a baby
She named him Tiny Tim
She put him in the bathtub

To see if he could swim

He drank up all the water
He ate up all the soap
He tried to eat the bathtub
But it wouldn't go down his throat

Miss Lucy called the doctor
Miss Lucy called the nurse
Miss Lucy called the lady
with the alligator purse

'Measles' said the doctor
'Tonsils' said the nurse
'Hungry' said the lady
with the alligator purse




other versions
http://everything2.com/index.pl?node_id=446284

still other versions
http://inky.50megs.com/idlechild/songs/hellooperator.htm

Stop the Car I Have To Barf

It's Doodle Time.

Here are a few pictures of Doodle on our way home from Vermont. She doesn't mind the airplane, but cars make her nauseated, especially if she knows we're going from Vermont to New York, and not the other way around. She knows when her vacation is over, and she gets herself all worked up.

Here she is minutes after we pulled out of the driveway, meowing and freaking out. She eventually barfed a few miles from here, and then took a squat to piss in my sister's book bag. Then she barfed again. She did everything but blow her ass out.

Pre-Explosions:

Post-Explosions:

Needless to say, she was calm on the flight. Look at her there, snuggled in my sweatshirt. I donated it to her and because I did, I endured an unpleasantly chilly meal at an overly air conditioned Taco Bell. You can't enjoy the Enchirito properly when you're goosebumpin'. Boy, do I love her or what?

Back By Popular Demand: Barbapapas

For those of you who don't know, and the lucky ones do...

THIS IS THE STORY OF BARBAPAPAS !!!

and here are the Barbapapas in full action if you have five minutes to watch them "change their shapes and sizes, very easily!" You might. They were the mutable cartoon MacGyvers of the day. It's a French thing. Of course, as I child I watched them dubbed in English, but apparently they were translated into several languages. This one is German. Die Machine!

Do You Like To Draw?

Click here for your free art test.

But before you do, it must be noted that my Dad was in the Navy with this cat. He's a very nice fellow apparently, but that bit of information only makes my sister and me crack up even harder everytime we see the commercial together.

There are two degrees of separation between us and the Free Art Test Guy.

That is fascinating.

Meet America's Future War Mongers, Rapists and Murderers

Some of you may watch this flick and see healthy pre-pubescent and pubescent adolescent boys being boys at summer camp. Me, being me, I naturally see Lord of the Flies. I once worked at a camp in Long Island the summer before my freshman and sophomore years at college. I was hired as a basketball coach but ended up with the savage responsibility of having to referee 13 year old boys' scrimmages whilst my un-fire-able co-coach (former camper and camp legacy) got stoned in his cabin.

A swarm of 13 year old boys is nothing but a veritable hell on earth, and I am indeed scarred for life. It's no wonder they're perfect candidates for Hamas and al Qaeda; that testosterone is a nasty nasty nasty thing. If they weren't running about like a hoard of monkeys, they were staring at my tits. When they weren't staring at my tits, they were pretending that they weren't staring at my tits. Man, it was bad enough dealing with them first time around when I was in Junior High--at least at 19/20 I felt more comfortable saying things like calm the fuck down before I fucking kill you!

You say spare the rod and spoil the child, I say hog tie the child and get a couple two, ten beers off campus. Maybe at a bar in a local strip mall. Then get fired from the camp for leaving your brood alone. Whatevs.

An Example of "Why Didn't I Think Of This"

Here's a clever little idea called "Other Announcements" that some other broad thought of after she had sent out 300 engagement announcements and her wedding plans went sour.

See, I never would have thought of this idea, because when I was engaged, I didn't tell 300 people like this braggy ahead-of-herself blabber mouth, and I only had to tell like 6 people that it wasn't going to happen. Oh, and the dude to whom I was engaged. So, seven. Sigh. I guess necessity really is the mother of invention. That and an appearance on Oprah, and who needs a dude afterall?

I Was Cuckoo For Nancy Drew Drew

Man, did I love Nancy Drew books; I can tell you I was absolutely crazy about Nancy Drew. Thanks to my Mom, who gave me The Secret of the Old Clock, Volume 1 in the 30-volume series. I have about twelve of them, mine all have the yellow spines which were introduced in 1962. Currently they're molding out in the spare part of the garage and being chewed on and crapped out by mice. Awesome.

Why did I love Nancy Drew so? What about The Secret of the Old Clock got me hooked? Well, let's dissect:

1. It involves a secret. I like mysteries.
2. It involves old stuff. I like history.
3. It involves an old clock. I like antiques.
4. It involves a smart, smartly dressed broad with chutzpah. I like pancakes.

Then came The Hidden Staircase. Ditto for all the reasons above, save for the clock part. Just look at those friggin' cobwebs:

Then eventually in 1977, Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys came out on t.v. and dummed everything down to the shit-kicking, imagination-crushing level that is Hollywood. The Nancy Drew they cast looked nothing like I had pictured her, nor did the Hardy Boys look right; they were supposed to have 1950's crew cuts, not 1970's Hair hair!The only thing good about the Hardy Boys was that it starred everyone's favorite Tigerbeat cover man, Shawn Cassidy, and his on-screen brother, Parker Stevenson, nee Steven Parker and former husband of Kirstie Alley:


Nancy would disapprove about the amount of grass I'd have to smoke to watch this DVD comfortably.

No, You're Not Seeing Things

A funny thing happened to me on the way from the theater, and that was that I removed this picture from whence it came because I thought these two stooges here were the trouble makers. Turns out it was Matt LeBlanc causing all the trouble. Figures. I want to officially thank Sans Pantaloons for solving the HTML Nerd-alicious Mystery of the Missing Sidebar. Thank you!

Adam Wade, Anne Altman, Matt Sears ~Post Mortified ~9/20/06, NYC

D'oh!

Big Cloud: Fuck! Wasn't this your job, Runny Milk?
Runny Milk: No, man, I'm the manager. I delegate. I told you that you were handling that. I was in charge of...of...other stuff.
Big Cloud: Shit.
Runny Milk: Yeah. You really fucked up.
Big Cloud: Fuck you, man. Your name sucks.
Runny Milk: At least I didn't fuck up and build a $36 million dollar casino where gambling is illegal.
Big Cloud: Don't make me come over there.
Runny Milk: Whatever, man. Nice casino. You're fired.



How you gonna lose your shirt and gain your oxygen tank in a casino with no gambling?

I Was Innocently Hacking Away at a Goat With an Axe When It Suddenly Turned Into My Brother's Corpse, So?

What? Why are you looking at me like that? It could happen.

A Diamond In the Rough

Oh, yeah? Well, I found a pink plastic tampon applicator at a town beach. Same diff.

I've Lost My Sidebar and I Can't Get It Up

Yeah, um, it's way down at the bottom and I can't get it back up. Maybe this thing will sort itself out; I can't imagine resizing and reposting dozens of photos. We're all going to die of a drug-resistant strain of TB anyhow, so nevermind the boogers. Hang tight, and we'll be up to our ears in them shortly. Booger up, kids!

A Dead Guy With a Great Sense of Humor

I imagine I'd have enjoyed a beer with this dude.

Matt LeBlanc Comes Up For Air

In the midst of a vicious cycle of marrying/divorcing Stepford style, lookalike blondes...

Yes, It appears that after three years of marriage, Matt LeBlanc (you all loved him as Joey on Friends) can rejoice today that his divorce from Melissa LeBlanc (nee McKnight) is final. Now he can get preparations underway with Andrea Anders of the celebrated "Joey" fame.

I'm leaving you, Melissa
What?
Yes.
Why?
I can't stand looking at your face anymore:

...and I'm leaving you for another woman.

You'd love her because she looks exactly like you:

...but I love her because she isn't you. And I'm Joey Tribbiani! Suck it, first marriage!

Possibilities

With all this time for t.v. these days, I've been bombarded with thoughts of possibilities. Namely, Campbell's Soup Possibilities. Did you know about all the possibilities? They seem endless!

The most popular possibility appears to be tuna, noodles, peas, and Campbell's Cream of Celery soup combined in a tasty casserole called "Campbell's Classic Tuna Noodle Casserole."

I lived and loved on what I thought was called Mom's Classic Tuna Noodle Casserole for years. I got totally psyched when it was on Mom's dinner menu, and thought that the cripsy crushed potato chip crust was all her idea. I can't fully describe how much I loved it--I honestly could not get enough of that shit.

Last year on a cold wintry night, I was feeling wistful and nostalgic and decided to open up a can of Campbell's and cook my favorite childhood dish right here in this very kitchen. It was easy, and it was fun to look at, browning there in the oven nicely, and I thought to myself, oh man, this is going to be great!

It was inedible. Literally. Same tuna, same noodles, same soup, same peas, same potato chips. Inedible. I'd say "talk about bland..." but can you talk about bland? After shoveling out a single serving and not finishing it, I had to throw the rest of the casserole away. Doodle was like, "What the fuck, all that tuna going to waste?" There just isn't enough jalepeno pepper in the world to spice that recipie up whatsoever.

The next time I've got an inkling to revisit baked noodle and soup dishes, the food of my youth, I'm going to stop dreaming up all the possibilities and think about all the disappointments. I'd rather remember Tuna Noodle Casserole at a time when it and life didn't suck. You know? Campbell's knows.

Snobby Waiter, There's a Hair in My Egg Drop Soup

bumpkyn's lock of love, 9/21/06

Shave and a haircut...two bits! Yes, the braid was scheduled to be chopped on Wednesday night at the exclusive Bumble and Bumble Salon in NYC by one of their stylists-in-training, but alas, Bumpkyn was an alternate, and didn't make the cut, so to speak. "Did you tell them it's for Locks of Love for cryin' out loud?!?!" I cried out loud. At any rate, all of her hand-wringing was for not, though she did walk away with a free Bumble and Bumble product for her trouble--albeit not the full-sized version which was double the price of the products most people choose. She wasn't even going to take her free product out of disgust having been turned away, but I made sure she did, and of course, our taste being that it is, we chose the most expensive one. Then they insisted we could have a product of our choice, at their discretion. As the Human Resource Director at my old place of employment would say, "We got gypped."

This turned out to be a blessing in disguise for two reasons, however. One, we had some time to kill before my show and my still-long-haired friend and I decided to waltz into Spice Market, Jean-Georges's all too fabulous restaurant on the same block as the salon. I was in the mood to celebrate getting the axe and Bumpkyn's hair not getting the axe with a few over-priced, fancy house drinks (in this case a Ginger Margarita and a Pineapple Mojito) and a few deep fried items (spring rolls, samosas--both which were burped up silently throughout the evening to the delight of our companions) from the reputable menu. Did we have a reservation? No. Unheard of to just walk into a place like this, reservations having to be made months in advance.

But as luck would have it, the host gave us a great table in the front provided we leave by 7:15, and he complimented me on my necktie, "Wow, is that Paul Stuart?" I replied, "No, but I do have a Paul Stuart belt I'm putting on eBay--do you have a size 26 waist?" He was close. We had a great time being fabulous and being seen in and around other fabulous people who could actually afford the place, people who had no idea that we couldn't. Ah, to live like the rich for 45 minutes. It's worth eating oatmeal for a few weeks.

The second reason things were a blessing is that when Bumpkyn found another stylist to cut her braid for Locks of Love and give her a great haircut in it's stead, she was told that Bumble and Bumble's graduated bob (which was what was the topic of study that afternoon) was not the right cut for her. Long story short: She looks fabulous, and it was all for a good cause!

A Thing Anne Is Not

Yeah, um, I'm not on this list.

If you are, send cash.

Thanks.

Bye.

Anne's Half-Assed Review of Gray's Anatomy

I can't compete with the real fan reviews of Grey's Anatomy, my only knowledge of the show being their last season's finale. In fact, I didn't even know what time the first episode of this season aired, so I got to it 16 minutes in. Did I miss big stuff? Probably. But if you're up to a half-assed review that only I can do, this is your place.

What I did see right away is that this was a flashback episode. But me being me, I hate flashback anything. I suppose it's the show and network's way of recapping the finale so as to remind old fans or enlist new as to what the hell is going on. What I remember was going on last time we left off is that during the prom at the hospital, Meredith was being chased by two boyfriends including Chris O'Donnell and Dr. McDreamy and ended up banging Dr. McDreamy in a hospital room and losing her black "panties." Shiver.

This episode brought to the table instead of a prom, an equally plausible outbreak of the plague. This allowed McDreamy and O'Malley to be sequestered/quarantined in the locker room and have flashbacks galore about their unrequited/requited love lives. Miranda is trying to save (through a locked door) Mr. Plague, a patient suffering from the plague from choking on his tears when he finds out that his significant other has expired from said plague. Izzy, the broad with the prom dress and the dead-in-bed fiance has not moved from the bathroom floor of Meredith's house, refusing to move in an overwhelming state of shock and grief.

The head of the hospital gets an ultimatum from his wife to retire, and he says he needs more time. She tells him she's out of time. Harsh. When McDreamy and O'Malley get out of quarantine, they go directly to Meredith's house. O'Malley doesn't tell his Amazonian girlfriend that he loves her, despite McDreamy's suggestion. And in turn, McDreamy against his own word, tells Meredith that he loves her and she has to choose. This is of course, after Chris O'Donnell tells her he's in love with her and is going to fight for her honor Peter Cetera style. Or whatevs. So many a dude on this show loves them some anorexic ass.

Finally, Sandra Oh seems to be holding everyone together during this tense time, and upon seeing her hot shot surgeon boyfriend in the hospital recovering from a not-so-hot gunshot wound (in his surgeon hand of all places--the tragedy!) breaks down to cry, and tells him, "Don't ever die." Did I miss anything? Oh, yes, during all this a premature baby is found in a trash can, ends up on life support, and four 14 -year old Catholic school girls are implicated and one is found guilty, giving that cocky and serious guy and the wife of McDreamy ample time to flash back to mistakes in their lives.

I think that about covers it.

Have I captured the attention of depressed, wrinkly women with money and dry skin who need insurance, medication for depression, and a brand new car--particularly either a BMW or a Mercury? Because that's apparently the demographic watching Gray's with me last night. I saw commercials for the show immediately afterwards called 6 Degrees, and I wanted to boycott it for two reasons. One, I didn't wanted their riding on the coat tails of Gray's ratings plan to fail because I'm like that. Two, I didn't want Bridget Monyahan shoving her Bridget Monyahan face in my face and all I see is "I'm banging Tom Brady, and you aren't." I was pleased to see that her on-show fiance is cheating on her with broads online, so that made me feel better. I was also pleased to see Kristen Schaall (half of the Hot Tub) making a nice cameo and a few much- deserved SAG lines and also Sara Vowell, author of The Partly Cloudy Patriot and other fantastic books.

If I watch these shows next week, I'm going to be pissed at myself. I predict being pissed at myself.

Doodle's Anatomy

Doodle, 9/21/06

A Mortifying Sold Out Show!

The teen angst was so palpable last night at the Tank theater that audience members were sprouting hair in awkward places and wiping sweaty palms on the front of their parachute pants--yes, Mortified's 4th Birthday Show was a success and great embarrassing fun for all!

Hosted by producer and la lovely Giulia Rozzi who began the show with a piece from her diary, the rest of the cast included (in order of appearance) QraigDeGroot, Colleen Kane, Kendra Levin, Leslie Robarge, Adam Wade, Brandy Crawford, and lastly but not leastly, moi!

Doodle Cat did not make the show. She was my +1 but the bitch took a taxi instead of the subway and arrived too late. Snooze: Lose.

Here are a few snaps from the show (thanks, Bumpkyn!) It appears that Qraig, Kendra, and Adam had too much onstage energy for a clear photo, however--Ahh, the hazards of showbiz.

Giulia Rozzi

Colleen Kane

Leslie Robarge

Brandy Crawford

Anne Altman

Thanks to all who made it out and were lucky enough to score a ticket--they were harder to come by than Barbra Streisand's Farewell Tour. Or was it her Comeback Tour? Who the hell knows. For more information on Mortified and how totally awesome it is, be a BFF and please visit www.getmortified.com!

A Page Right Out Of Anne's Very First Blog

Back before I was a full-time ha ha maker and a part-time blogger, I was an only child with a lot of time on my hands and a scrapbook. Scrapbooks being the 70's version of the web log and all, combined with the fact that my mother is a culture-phile (Is that a word? It is now, bitches!) and the close proximity of our house to the city of Boston, my parents and I frequently made trips into town to visit museums and see shows. In other words: I had a lot to scrapbook about.

In the late seventies my sister was born, saving me from a potential future of Only Child Syndrome, a syndrome which affects some--and not all, I realize--only children, rendering them odd for life. So, the scrapbook eventually took a back seat to the arrival of my little sis, but thankfully I got to experience the independence and creativity of an only child, and we get to enjoy this little gem.

This particular page is from a trip to see a 1975 Christmastime performance of The Nutcracker Ballet in Boston. Good thing I scrapbooked about it; no doubt my Dad was snoring in his seat and would be useless in terms of a review. Check out the detail on the man tits on the Sugar Plum Fairy in the center! And how about those broads? And could those be hula hoops made out of candy canes? They must have really been something! Can't you just hear the music and feel the energy from the illustration? And how about the full house? Not a chair to spare! From the perspective of the drawing, it looks like the Altmans got themselves some crappy seats. What's that drawn in black just under the edge of the stage--a man beating other men with nunchucks? Hell, no, that's the orchestra pit, goddammit! No detail was left out by me. The other page which you can't see here most likely contained ticket stubs and other valuable information for the reader.

If you enjoy this new series "A Page Right Out of Anne's Very First Blog" as much as my sister and I do, please let us know, and I'll make sure to post more. Soon this scrapbook will be in a presidential library--though I don't have any future plans in politics other than voting--I don't know how or when, but it'll be there.

Don't Hate Clay Aiken Because He's Gay As All Get Out, Hate Him Because His Hair Is Terrible

Dear Clay Aiken,

Yesterday while watching Dr. Phil, I noticed several commercials for your new album. You appear to be crooning. A crooner. To whom do you croon? Sure, you were the skinny redheaded underdog on American Idol a few years ago, and though you didn't win first place, you had enough fanship to get some record deals. This was, of course, before your teenage girl audience found out that you love cock and balls:

(Nobody is buying that you love titties)

but yet someone out there is buying your crap. Who is buying your crap? Could it be the eunuchs? Is this hipster Williamsburg indy rocker soaked-in-product, high maintenance 'do the official hairdo of the eunuchs? It's seriously terrible:

I just want to grab those sticky bangs which cover your eyes like a sheepdog and rip them out of your head. I don't care how much you love the cock n' balls; a boy should not have hair this complicated. It's too gay for the gays, my dear. Seriously.

Love always,

Anne

Click here and turn up your audio for Maximum Terrible Quotient.

Mr. President, El Diablo

Venezuela's president, Hugo Chavez spoke at the UN and referred to President George W. Bush as "the devil." The White House says that the comment doesn't warrant a response.

I say it does.

Right on, Hugo! You can say that again.

Don't Fear the Reaper--Or the Cat Hair

Well, Wednesday has proven to be quite productive at Two Can Anne. Doodle and I had a little breakfast, and then we worked out to Belly Dancing I and II (that's a whopping 22 minutes, people) using our Time Warner Cable On Demand feature that we can't afford. Doodle is now napping in her lei. I told her that it belly dancing isn't exactly Hawaiian, but she wanted to wear it, so who am I to tell her no?

Other good things:

1. I booked my Thanksgiving travel plans. My advice, do it now, folks. Most traveled few days in all of America. So expect high prices, and totally annoying airports.
2. Deleting old email, I came across a note from a headhunter who was stalking me at my last job. And here I thought it was lost forever! Oh, I love it when shit like that happens.
3. I did not win the lottery. Oh, wait, this should actually go in the Bad Things list, but I'll take a positive spin with it and say, I did not win the lottery, but there is always tonight.
4. Did you guys buy that?
5. I was also able to install my Canon Elph camera software, something I was not able to do with my p.o.s (piece of shit) old computer. I think my old photo software was beating down the new, and it wouldn't let me download without crashing. Thankfully this new laptop which so was kindly donated to me is a nice clean slate in which to work.
6. Tonight I perform my teen angst piece at Get Mortified's 4th Birthday Show at the Tank Theater in NYC. On November 28-- Mortified : Real Words, Real People, Real Pathetic--the book will be available in book stores, and you can buy it. If you don't, you'll probably get it from me as a Christmas present. I am now an officially published and professional author: I got my $100 royalty check in the mail last week. Perfect timing!

An Awesome Thing

I have a wonderful friend who has very thick, very long beautiful hair. Normally I think to myself, "Bitch has very thick, very long beautiful hair. Thinks she's so great. Must be nice to have such very thick, very long beautiful hair."

But you see, she doesn't think she's so great, which she is, and it's just one of the reasons why I think she's so great. And you will too, when I say that this afternoon, she is kissing those long thick beautiful locks goodbye for a very good cause: Locks For Love. It's an organization which provides wigs at low or no charge to kids who have lost their own hair due to chemotherapy.

I'd donate my 'do too, but this bitch doesn't have enough to spare--you've got to grow 10 inches to donate--I'd be left with a buzz and still wouldn't make the cut. I'm just going to live vicariously through her good deed and be happy with mine: you know, saving some elephants.

What I'm Reading Right Now

The Tender Bar, A Memoir, by J.R. Moehringer.

What's awesome about this is that my neighbor is a big big deal fashion homo, he's got a lot of money, and he often throws perfectly great things away in the recycling room. I had wanted to read this book for a year but never got around to getting it for myself and voila: there it was last week, atop a pile of other crap he didn't want in his life anymore. Like what, you ask? Oh, a huge set of kitchen linens from Bergdorf Goodman that I'm going to sell the shit out of on eBay.

Me? An urchin? Perhaps. Oh, like he's not. I'm sure he poached the 1/2 broken toaster I put in there last night.

Laid Off Doesn't Have To Mean Laid Up #1

That's right, folks, unemployment has it's benefits. Here are a few:

1. No guilt (or not as much guilt) in declining a telemarketer's solicitation of funds from NPR. "I would but I just got the shitcan" seems to work quickly and I get a pass for a few months, kind of like jury duty. And since you're out of work, you have time to talk their ears off, which makes the call even shorter. "Great, listen, I may not have cash to donate, but I do have my time; what employment opportunities other than telemarketer, of course, is NPR offering right now?"
2. You get creative in the kitchen. What, you didn't think a processed slice of American cheese and martini olives on a piece of stale leftover Greek Salad takeout pita bread with ketchup isn't a meal? Wash it down with a glass of 8.99 cabernet. You'd be surprised.
3. Doodle and I get to spend some quality time together.

He's Got Fleas On His Head But Don't Call Him a Flea-Head

Totally Adorable, Cuba Lake, NY, 8/06

Or call him a pet. He is an "animal companion." I just call him totally fucking adorable. Anyway, Whip and I were talking tonight about Doodle and her job search and asked if she was still moping around in her suit when she referred to the "I'm calling PETA" comment on that post, and this article on PETA's new public awareness campaign against the term "pet".

If at first you think to yourself, "Groan, here they go again, being annoying..."I hear you, but they do have a good point albeit it's a sad reminder about pet farms and animal overpopulation. This is a smart effort and might, just might, help prevent a few in the next generation--at least in the USA-- from being cruel to animals. Save for those who like to beat down on human ass, of course. Nothing can cure those sick fuckers. Take OJ Simpson. A guy who can decapitate in Bruno Maglis? That's a guy who has been pulling the transportation off of Daddy Longlegs' on a consistent basis since he was born. And Dahmer? Please. That dude was drowning bags of kittens when he was still in the womb. Some people are wired incorrectly. Twisted wires make for twisted folks.

Anyway, back to the cutest fucking dog you ever saw. I'm thinking a Matt Searsian Cute Off is in order between Adorable Dog and Doodle Cat. Ye olde Dog v. Cat! It's gonna be the dog eat dog cat eat cat animal companion contest of the year!

And last but not least, click here if you like fleas.

I Like Badtz-Maru

Why? Hard to say. Is it because

1. He is a pissed off penguin?
2. He has a girlfriend named Hana Maru, a white seal?
3. He has a pet alligator named Pochi?
4. He has a friend named Pandaba, a skirt-wearing panda bear?

Again, hard to say. Most likely a combination of all of the above, with extra emphasis on #1. I think we look alike. You can buy Badtz-Maru products for me at sanrio.com. You know, the makers of Hello Kitty! Badtz-Maru clearly must be her alter ego.

I'm Toast With No Toast

Everyone knows that toast is the preferred (read: only) dinner for the economically challenged. I was about to make myself such a culinary masterpiece when alas--the toaster oven made faint little blue spark when I clicked on the Start Toast button.

Little blue spark meaning: dead as a doornail.

Talk about being kicked when I'm down. I don't have a full-time job, and now I've got to subsist on raw bread? Sure, the oven part of the toaster oven works, but doesn't that just heat things? I already have an oven of the full-sized variety. Doesn't this give me license to throw away the toaster because only half of it delivers? Doesn't this mean that this will be part of the Nine Things a Day To Throw Away Project and I'll get closer to Feng Shui Heaven because I don't believe in the real heaven? Sure, a new toaster oven might not run me but about twenty bucks +, but isn't this an expense I didn't forsee happening to me at this tender time?

Alright, alright, focus more on the positive aspects of having no toaster, Anne, focus on that crap.


Having no toaster to toast bread will render me less likely to eat bread nor anything much at all considering these tight times. Water is free, and it does give that full just-eaten feeling. Will I lose weight on the Poverty Diet? Yes. Is it cheaper than the Zone Diet? Yes.

Yay! Poverty never looked so good. Even though all I wanted was a piece of damn toast. At least I don't have to clean this thing. Garbage ho!

News Flash

We're all going to die! Just in case you thought otherwise, so don't get a false sense of security and think you're so great and treat people like crap. You could be next.

Have a great evening!

As Easy As Mr. Potato Head, Right?

Not so much.

I read The New York Post this morning and found an article on the World's First Successful Penis Transplant.

Sort of.

Liz read about it too, and supplied me with this good link on the same story. Reuters more informative than the Post? That's a first. Go figure.

Anyway, she said that the article left her with some questions. Me too. The upshot is, the dude got his dink whacked off in an accident somehow. Modern science was able to attach a brain dead fella's perfectly in tact penis to the other dude's stump, thanks to the family of the deceased who kindly donated his organs. The operation was successful, things were working properly, and his body wasn't rejecting the organ.

It was his wife who was rejecting it.

So, off came the new penis. She preferred the stump.

Questions indeed! I'd so much rather ponder this article than dwell on President Bush's bullshit remarks at the U.N. today. Wouldn't you? I'm already still steamed about all the traffic. Let's talk Off, On, Off Again Penis, shall we?

Honey, I'm Home

Doodle, 9/19/06

Even Though The Good Will Not Inherit the Earth

I like to live my life via the following mantra:

Be good,

Be kind,

Peace you find

I haven't exactly found peace as in the peace-on-earth kind of peace, but I do have peace of mind. Peace of mind that I'm not an a-hole. Sure, I'll talk shit about you if you're a two-faced, lying, phony beeyotch, but I'll feel slightly bad if you hear me and weren't prepared for the truth. Because I treat others like I'd like to be treated*. Even if they treat me like crap, I'm still nice. Like the time I was eyebrow raped at the Korean Nail Salon on 56th Street and to add insult to injury I was overcharged: I not only thanked her but tipped her. This is problematic, I realize, but again, peace of mind. If not peace of eyebrows.

*what I wouldn't give for Doodle to clean and press my suit and kick me out the door with a pep talk before pounding the pavement...