Everything she wants



Some of you may have been wondering where Lambchop is. I wondered too, but then I got a report that she's taking a brief vacation. In 1982.

I hear it's nice!

Actually, she DID get a Genius Grant, for excellence in the field of sustainable hairstyle development. She's been holding out on me since she got the phone call and whopping novelty check. I guess we'll have a party? Anyway, she's waiting for her spiffy new Mac, the computing choice of reasonable humans everywhere, to arrive. And once it's here, she plans to publish a position paper entitled "Consider Bulimia" as part of our new humanitarian campaign against obesity.

Posted 4:05 PM by Licketysplit

Phoning it in

How is it that this site gets regular traffic from people at both Randomhouse and Dreamworks, yet we are still unfamous? I've written a nasty little book, Lambchop has acted in a film, we keep up our hairstyles, and yet here we sit, entertaining you slavering halfwits with mention of gumjobs and Lindsay Lohan's nethers.

To add insult to injury, they handed out Genius Grants to people other than us. How does one get nominated for a genius grant? Is it like being a Mason?

Aw, fuck it. We know we're public servants even if the MacArthur foundation doesn't. Recent search terms clip show, here we go. Never stop questioning, internet.

gary shandling, squirrel bukkake, how to ruin someone's life, vomitorium after the emmys, klan wedding topper, schlong butter, budoir photo techniques, boston ice cream buffet, shannen doherty gained weight, segmentation for vodka in India, extreme milk dr pepper, paula abdul's childhood, loni anderson thigh boots, matching tattoos -britney blog, sumo wrestler pedicure, pony girls, sexy pictures of 16 teen year old redbones girls who needs boyfriend, david bowie crossdress texas, the dukes of hazzard the movie, bon appetit bukkake, sun pie, cameltoe parade, how to make percocet chemistry [ed. - good luck with that!], mister softee calories, giant diaper pins, sugar dna x ray hard to resolve poor resolution, scat, making love large photos, joan rivers cellulite thighs, signs someone else should look for bulimia [ed.- I'd recommend you ALL consider bulimia], made her go party drunk, dayquil sampling program, how to purge binge [ed. - hint, binge, THEN purge], whatever happened to pubic hair?, parker posey speech impediment, wacky warning labels are people so dim witted that they need, mormons drinking cold coffee, anesthesia mask fetish, mean hire bars was tout roy mini red fun lap hook eels gin lair, sauna polaroids, erotic extremity amputations, while she's peeing, lindsay lohan in underwear maybe a thong? [ed. - so hopeful!], in their * tight jeans, who looks like ian curtis, long shag faux fur by the yard, heather morgan volleyball, kicking nuts in open toed high heels, furcon body paint, tight teens type aol keywords or web addresses here, i love whips yogurt, lyrics of why do we always hurt the ones we love

Posted 5:52 PM by Licketysplit

Ding-Dang Old

It is my 25th birthday on Sunday! Yes, I turned 25 last year as well, but this year I really mean it. The last half of one's twenties is a gaping void anyway, so why not keep the girls perky and 25? Which is already not as good as perky and 19, shoulda stuck with that.

What do I have to look forward to in my late twenties but my Saturn Return and my divorce? Jeez. I will turn 30 though. Then I'll hold at 30 until 35. Five year increments for me from now on.

Presents can be directed here, care of Vomitola. I'd like 36-hour days, well-defined stomach muscles, a Democrat in the White House, and some more big-eyed art reproductions. I have such simple, elegant taste. By that I mean "trashy." You should see this nail art I got.

Posted 4:36 PM by Licketysplit

People really live this way

The other day, Mr. H and I hit on a brilliant plan for cheap entertainment: attending real estate open houses. It's fall, and these things are on every corner, not unlike dead squirrels. Sure, if we see a really spanky place, we might buy it. That is the endgame of this harebrained scheme. But it's really about the thrill of the hunt. You can't beat whiling away a Sunday afternoon by poking your nose in other people's closets: we saw His n' Hers Nascar apparel.

Apparently any ol' body can go to these open house things, which we did not realize. You have to write your name down, but no one's checking to see if it's even your real name. You do not have to present a photo of yourself doing the backstroke through your money bin.

And then you roam around, making disparaging remarks about wallpaper borders. The homeowners aren't there, so what they don't hear won't hurt them. It is my personal and frequently-voiced opinion that wallpaper borders should be made illegal, possibly via a rider tacked on to some federal act. We saw a perfect house, but there were two borders in each room. I mentally calculated the time it would take me to steam and scrape off these beautiful harvest scenes, these sailboats and grapevines and bears clutching balloon bouquets. Not worth it! We decided that if we can't find a suitable makeshift chamber of horrors by the end of the year, we will just buy a crappy one and burn it down for fun.

In further "people really live this way" news, I went to Costco yesterday. It seems purchasing a house requires something called a "down payment," and this requires "saving money." So I guess we won't be eating Komodo dragon carpaccio at every meal anymore. Costco left me with a raging headache, 3,500 Q-tips, and a deep sense of shame and my own mortality. Why, I saw a man up-end a two-gallon jug of barbecue sauce and chug it right in the checkout lane. So this is what we've become. Peeping Tom bulk shoppers. Filthy-filthy-can't-get-clean.

Posted 9:14 AM by Licketysplit

IT'S EDUCATIONAL



Mr. H turned 33 the other night, and as we were in the car returning from dinner, he asked what I'd gotten for his birthday. This was kind of a joke, because I suck at arranging birthday festivities for him. One year I gave him a free kitten. Another year, I broke up with him just to avoid his birthday. This year, I am still the laziest person on the planet, and we're perpetually hungover from celebrating our week-long anniversary, so I said "I arranged a bukkake. The new neighbors will be dropping by later." They happen to be senior citizens. That really stirs the pot.

He said "What's bukkake, anyway?" After I finished choking and sputtering and howling, I ascertained that he really did not know. So after more kicking and twitching and inability to breathe, I told him.*

"Well!" he said.

So that was his 33rd birthday present. The gift of Knowledge. Inspired by this recent Achewood installment, I started rattling off other vile juvenile terms, and found he was also remiss in his understanding of the terms "donkey punch," "Cleaveland steamer," and "the shocker." He did know about the Dirty Sanchez and the blumpkin, though. I guess the variance is the product of the local public school system. I went to private school, and that's how I knew all that stuff.

*A fantastic bukkake resource: The Archive of Inadvertent Bukkake.

Posted 2:38 PM by Licketysplit

Manuel on the Street -in- Hell in a Hand Basket



Well now. It seems that in all the excitement of moving to The City That Cannot Sleep, I may have temporarily lost sight of my commitment to my fine and generous employers here at Vomitola. Indeed, it took no less than a visit from Lambchop herself, during which vigorous chastisement may or may not have taken place, to remind me of this most pressing obligation. {ed.-- We do NOT beat our New York Bureau!} So, it is with a merry but terror stricken heart that I have come here to the interweb to once again shamelessly pollute it with inconsequential ramblings.

Now, as some of you may have heard, New York City recently went insane when some jackass came to town with a few thousand of his jackass friends, causing all the "normal" people who live here to take to the streets screaming and exposing their nether regions for some reason. However, along with this large contingent of socially conscientious nudists, there also came the compulsory hordes of half-assed fascists and doomsday extolling religious maniacs who showed up just to help their chosen leaders gain back some much needed credibility.

Watching these cavorting zealots, I think my attitude could be best summarized by a quote from The Monster in Hal Hartley's No Such Thing that goes roughly like this. "Jesus, huh? Well, I can see this is going to be a disaster."

See, it's time we got together and hashed out this nonsense of religion once and for all, and I believe, by making some sound observations followed by a proposed resolution, I can get this process started.

Observation #1: People are nuts. It seems a frighteningly large portion of our society has been driven a bit mad as of late, due to a recurring nightmare in which their children and grandmothers are repeatedly blown to bits by hordes of rampaging apocalypse bombers. Conversely, there are a whole bunch of other folks who apparently lie awake at night absolutely certain that plans are currently being drawn up for the construction of a drive-thru window at their favorite mosque. Now let me state right now that I wouldn't for a moment label either of these fears unfounded or even doubt their likelihood of becoming reality. This, however, is still no reason to begin behaving like a maniac simply because you have suddenly decided you need to be "all up in God's thong."

Observation #2: People are short sighted and greedy. This is a painfully obvious fact. I mean, for God's sake, it is no longer enough that stressed out Japanese business men can order soiled panties through the mail. They now additionally require 12 forms of state notarized documentation assuring them that the panties were soiled by "an actual schoolgirl" before successfully doing whatever it is they do with them. And it's not just those wacky Japanese either. Why the other day, I heard a person right here in Manhattan actually tell another human being that they needed "extra mayonnaise" on something they were about to seriously eat. You see? It's bedlam.

This started me wondering if all this nonsense about eternal life, and basking in the light of God/pile of 72 defiled virgins might be nothing more than a world wide form of paranoid dim-witted spiritual greediness that no one who actually succumbs to it has taken the time to properly think through.

It seems to me that if you asked any well balanced individual why they would want to live forever, the answer should be something like "You know, I guess I don't. I mainly just want to have a 300 year pancake breakfast with all my dead friends and every member of my family that I do not despise while we watch what's going on with Earth on a gigantic flat screen TV, and maybe there should be beer there too."

Thus, I cannot understand why someone has yet to propose a new religion that simultaneously caters to our inherent fear of death before we're thoroughly bored AND has the sense to not throw around words like ETERNITY which should terrify the rational among us. Not so much a religion even, but more of an Extended Viewing Package or a "Super-Sizing" of the length of time we are conscious that has a definite expiration date about 300 years down the line. This way, on our deathbeds, a man will come wearing a tidy uniform holding a clipboard and ask us if we would like to "Go Large with our mortality today."

These extra few centuries would provide the ample time needed for people to satisfy their curiosity about all manner of things such as; the tragic ends of our enemies, if they discover a cure for The Vagina Monologues, and what David Bowie looks like these days. And once it's all said and done and those not already thoroughly disgusted by humanity in all its imaginable forms have had the chance to become so, the package you signed on for comes to term and LIGHTS OUT. Hell, I would sign on to a program like that. Wouldn't you? Remember, there will be beer there.

Posted 4:41 PM by Licketysplit

Almost No Ramones



Joey and Dee-Dee.
Now Johnny.
Throw some petals over Joey's bones
Today there are almost no Ramones.

-xo

ps. WARNING, this is pretty gross. (editor's note: Lambchop does NOT walk around dressed like Bela Lugosi is Still Not Dead, she just plays it on tv.)

Posted 1:27 PM by Lambchop

The Last of the Famous International Lambchop



Ahh, fashion week! I can still smell the Aveda and the tang of vomit from all those tossed up lentil wraps. I went to see the Gen Art "Fresh Faces" show, and that was Faaaaancy. Anne was stunning in the best outfit in the show, a bustled jacket by Alice Ritter, who is a very cute and fun french girl. I was backstage with her and a sea of toothpick shaped models, watching them get hair and makeup, and dress their identically endless limbs, while the slender high heeled citizens of fashion New York bickered with the ticket girl for a V.I.P. seat. I watched the show from the back, admiring walks and gauzy layers, and hoping to steal a gift bag.

I got to see the studios of a couple of cool designers (no name dropping!) while Anne was there trying on stuff in the middle of the room. In between appointments, we tramped around the Village and SoHo, where we saw the fashion photographer Terry Richardson Penis Show. Porn has made it to the galleries (AGAIN) and here are the large photos of Terry in sweatsocks, his whanger pressing through the faces of models, to prove it.

Bite me, Terry Richardson with your porn face and bad tattoos. Oh you make sex so cool.

I saw Anne again at the Dres show, which was a red light affair at the Hotel Gershwyn, much flocked by transvestites. I wore pink knee highs. Anne had a polka-dotted skirt and latex makeup. The stylists there were all Very Hott gay men. One was about 6'4" in a pair of dandy trousers and a pinstriped hat. That's tall enough to break my heart. Why are gay men so hot?

I stayed in the Model Apartment, a sort of agency dorm for models just a block from the Alexander McQueen shop in the meatpacking district. I love watching bits of flesh and rivulets of fatty blood get washed off the sidewalk in front of these designers. Offal and the fragrance of Stella McCartney- together at last! Staying at the M.A. was really Something. The girls aged 14-21, all very sweet and lanky, talking boys and waist sizes and look books. They were pretty and innocent creatures, ridiculously coltish in their long, tight jeans.

Also included in this fashion weekend were a night of dancing at the Pyramid, walks on the Hudson, a trip to Green Point to see the view of Manhattan from Violet's new rooftop, a Sunday afternoon wandering Central Park, and a brief tour of Jersey City, which is another story altogether. It was so fab to see Violet, and to badger Manuel on the Street for his first new York chronicle. Coming soon!

Right now Anne is doing a shoot for French Vogue, and I hope Violet went to see her last show. I whisked straight to work on a 3:30am train on Mon., ending three solid days of not seeeing a single Fat Person in Gold Pants.

In these strange environs, I was mistaken for a model a couple of times. I said "Baby, I got 20 lbs. going in the wrong direction!". I really did.

-xo

Posted 3:41 PM by Lambchop

The Fashionable and the Not So Fashionable



NEWS FLASH! Attractive people are leaving Boston in droves, and you can see it in the nightlife. Yesternight at Love Night we keenly felt the absence of our fashionable friends while watching the Other Species jiggle its junk around. It was like having a sofa come on to you.

Your correspondent lambchop is heading for greener pastures. It's Fashion week in New York, and I am going to take in a show or two with Anne. I will not return until I have gotten a photo of a gangly girl-creature yodeling her breakfast in the trash! Ok, I'll be back on Monday.

-xo

Posted 10:47 AM by Lambchop

Our fearful symmetry

Mr. H and I have made it through one year of marriage without killing each other or seriously intending to divorce. We celebrated this awesome achievment over several days with a lot of liquor and rolling around in someone's backyard. That's really no change from how this union began, except this year I did not throw up at all. Kudos to me!

Today is also Back to Skool. I have enrolled myself in several classes, as I can't leave well enough alone after finding that my first set of student loans is now paid off. Before you know it, I will be a professional auto detailer. I am so glad I have the next few months to ponder the snappy saying I will inscribe on my mortarboard.

Posted 9:09 AM by Licketysplit

Where time stops and the magic never ends.



I wouldn't dare ruin the awe-striking experience of this golden skate extravaganza of a movie, by actually describing it. I just hope that when the muses take on human form to inspire me to achieve, that I, too, will build a giant roller disco rink.

-xo

Posted 10:02 AM by Lambchop

Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria?




Most of you are probably already aware of the tragic news that Laura Branigan has Left the Building. When I was in the third grade at P.S. 23 in the spring of 1981, no fewer than 3 separate acts of girls in the talent show lip-synched in choreographed dance routines to "Gloria". It was so 80's!

Please share your Gloria memories with us here at Vomitola. We are here for you.

And if you are too overcome with Gloria-related emotion to find the words right now, here are some pictures of Lambchop in her underwear, to shill goods for our favorite comic, Achewood.

-xo

Posted 1:30 PM by Lambchop

Memorieeeeees...



These are some very nice people. They have moved to your neighborhood of Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Be nice to them. Approach them with flowers and dinner invitations and you will receive some fine company.

Last night I spent a long time perusing Violet's fine photographs, missing them and thinking of the Manhattan skyline, back then visible from my high school on the hill in Jersey City, and now from their living room. When I was fifteen I could ride a bike (borrowed from a neighborhood skate boy, we never had bikes)to the waterfront and those glittering gray slabs of promises loomed right there, but we could go no farther than the grimy Hudson, pitching cigarettes into the oily drink and going home before we got in trouble.

Maybe some time I will go the rest of the way. I miss the lights.

-xo

Posted 11:44 AM by Lambchop