Monthly Archives: July 2011

Wiigs & Maya talk homeless farts

If reincarnation is for realz, there’s no doubt I’m coming back as a 15-year-old boy. In the meantime, this “Bridesmaids” interview will have to suffice. It kicks off at 1:20, gets really funny at 2:20, and hits the shit-yourself-funny (apropos) crescendo at 4:50.

In other news, the batteries in my fart machine (which makes an appearance at 5:20!) corroded and I’m mucho heartbroken. And no, I don’t think it was at all weird that I kept it in a kitchen drawer.

Also, I want to party with this French dude.

JF & Kattan….reunited and it feels so good

GD Vodpod won’t let me embed a video from GD (damn you, Comcast!!! I know you’re behind this, you evil site traffic-driving twats!).

So here you have it.

I suggest you NOT eat or drink while watching this, lest you make the same mistake I did and nearly choke to death.

I need a girly moment, please

I’m not a big shopper – at least in the sense of traditional “womanshopping,” defined as wandering aimlessly from store to store, leaving a trail of impulse buys. Rather, I’m a focused shopper – hitting stores about three times a year, armed with a list, and having done a fairly hefty amount of research before setting foot near any brick-and-mortar establishment, so as to limit the amount of time I must spend in said establishment. I also stand behind the “quality over quantity” premise, so while I don’t buy much, what I buy is generally not inexpensive. I tend to purchase things that are well made, thoughtfully designed, stylish but not overly trendy, and wear/use them (or display them – if we’re talking furniture and whatnot) for a very, very long time. As in years. And sometimes decades.

Despite my general disdain for the shopping experience, I take extreme pleasure in finding just-the-right whatever-it-may-be, particularly when it suits me just-so. My friend Erica is a stylist; three years ago, she helped me round out my wardrobe and, as part of the process, asked me to define my personal style. Without hesitation, I spouted “fresh and modern – with an edge.” (Think Jennifer Aniston, Reese Witherspoon, Claire Danes, Giada De Laurentiis.) In particular, I have a penchant for structured, streamlined pieces; anything black and silver; and metal adornments like studs, grommets, and zippers make me positively squee in delight.

While, as mentioned, I have a tendency to wear my clothes for a long time, I think every woman should have three “investment pieces” she can wear for a lifetime: a great trench, a fabulous bag, and a rockin’ pair of shoes. Of course, the trick with lifetime finds is that they need to be classic enough to wear forever, but still make a statement that’s uniquely YOU. Like any lifelong mate, this can be an arduous search.

I feel fortunate to have found two of the three in the past five years: in 2006, I bid on a Marc Jacobs Venetia bag (black leather with gray stitching, ivory suede lining, and silver hardware – natch). It was the day after Christmas, when most of the world was exhausted, broke, and overwhelmed with stuff – an ideal day for eBay shopping! I snagged the then-$1,200 bag for $350. It’s heavy as fuck but I’ll have it forever. It’s so beautiful, it requires its own chair at restaurants. On more than one occasion in New York, upon being seated and placing it gingerly on a chair, I announced to the hostess, “Marc needs his own seat.” (Only in NYC does this garner a sincere nod of understanding.)

The following year, I landed a big consulting gig and decided it was time to splash out on an awesome trench. I marched straight to the Burberry boutique in SoHo and declared my desires to the super-chic, attentive, and ridonkulously gay gentleman who approached me: “I need a lightweight black trench. Single-breasted. Chrome, brushed nickel, or titanium hardware. No gold. No buttons.”

When you’re serious at Burberry, you’re whisked away into the back of the store and placed on a platform where at least two associates dote on you with coats galore. I didn’t require much doting however – the first trench brought to me was perfect. At $600, it was at least half the cost of most Burberry beauties. Four years later, I’m still wearing it and loving it.

Which brings me to my final item – the shoes. I’ve not been in a hurry on this one because I think it’s a much taller order than the bag or the coat. At least for me. Finding a pair of shoes that meets my requirements – classic, while still uniquely me – isn’t easy. Most shoes are classic but boring (read: black leather slingbacks, however beautifully made they may be…ahem, Manolo) or outrageous and ridiculous (feather-adorned pink suede platforms…hello, Monsieur Louboutin). So rather than hunt, I just keep my eyes peeled.

And I do believe my answer has arrived on the feet of Katie Holmes in this month’s InStyle. If you’ve been paying any attention thus far, you’ll see why. They’re so fantastic, I’d wear nothing but them while naked in a bedroom.

Let’s just note for the record that I have five new projects in the pipeline. When one hits, I’ll celebrate by dialing 1-800-Get-These-Fuckers-On-My-Feet.

Feelgood stuff for right now in this very moment

From these guys, who always proffer lots of peppy word stuff:

To remind us all to set our egos aside because shockingly (and thankfully), the world does not revolve around us: “Whatever happens around you, don’t take it personally – nothing other people do is because of you. It’s because of themselves.” – Don Miguel Ruiz

FTW!!!! “Don’t believe the saying, ‘You complete me.’ No other person can complete us….but we CAN complete ourselves. Look no further than yourself. We just need to believe it.”

And now for the image-oriented (thanks, CD):

The dildo is under the bed!

Thanks, A, for pointing this out. You’re my hero more than ever now that this Dildovision trait has been revealed.

Check it out for yourself – it’s a giant purple bulbous contraption that the pooch kicks a few times. WOW. I won’t even mention how gross it is that it’s lying around on the dirty floor while a dog frolics nearby. The mere mention kicks my OCD into overdrive. Then again, I guess we could pass it off as a dog toy, but that would be way less interesting.

I promise this is my final dildo post. Back to a mind lived outside the gutter.


Pants peeing on a plane

That’s me right now. Bored on a plane. Seeing this photo pop up in my newsfeed courtesy of awesome photog, Sharon Montrose (she of the goat photos which adorn my kitchen walls). And getting the squeals – which must be stifled while in public tube-shaped object. Not that this is stopping the weird foreign kid behind me from forgetting the meaning of “inside voice.” (Want to punch.)

Anyhow, this monkey babe? Freaking cute as piss.

Find the dildo!

Yes, this is a hi-larious video about a dog going apeshit on some balloons. Pure happy gigglyness was my reaction to the first viewing. Clearly we should all find this variety of simple joy in life. Then I read the comments about some dildo on the scene and now I’m obsessed with finding the damned thing.

Forget Waldo – where in the world is the fucking dildo?!?! If you can find the dildo, please enlighten me.

Seen, heard, smelled, and tasted in NYC

On this day, 7/10/11:

  • The “Men in Black 3” set along Madison Avenue. Walked right through it. This movie filming shit happens to me on nearly every visit to NYC. I’d like to think it means something. It very likely doesn’t.
  • Veggie omelettes at Coffee Shop. I was last here in 2006 for drinks at midnight, when a guy asked if he could give me a free breast exam. Note: Unless you want my knee to meet your junk, this is a terrible, terrible pick-up line.
  • A giant pile of barf on 16th between 5th & 6th. I stepped over it and kept moving. Just like old times.
  • Pee smell. Pee. Everywhere.
  • Cat call whistle from a homeless dude. Am sure he’s a very discerning fellow.
  • The Hudson River from LZS’s rooftop pool in the JC (thanks, m’dear).
  • Steamed mussels and lobster & truffle gnocchi at this incredible JC establishment.
  • Milk chocolate brownie gelato (thanks again, LZS).
  • Friends I will forever love: Jules, Mel, LZS, and MKR. Hearts to y’all.

Live from New York…

…Bayport, NY, that is. This past Friday. Ari’s show at the awesome Grey Horse Tavern way, way, way out on Long Island. I could go on and on about how spectacular he is live, but I’ll let you see for yourself – in this clip courtesy of my iPhone:

The journey of getting to Bayport from the city in the POURING, HUMID-ASS rain is worthy of its own blog post. Suffice it to say that as soon as we arrived at the Grey Horse, we were informed that the plumbing was not working. Toilets not flushing, water not running – and P.S. after that long drive, I had to piss something fierce. Yes, the show would go on. No, they couldn’t serve us anything to eat because it’s a health violation to do so when the plumbing is in the shitter (I’m sorry. I had to.).

The good news is they fixed the plumbing prob, they are amazing and kind people at the GHT, and I can’t say enough about what a wonderful venue it is. Ari (and his super-talented friend, Eva, who opened for him) played to a room of about 25 people – which, in my opinion, is the very best kind of show. But my favorite part was not the intimate nature of the evening or their incredible performances, but Ari’s opening line as he took his place at the mic, tuned his guitar, and immediately addressed the elephant of the evening:

“So. Did anyone poop their pants?”

Great, dirty, in-the-shitter minds.