World Is Full of Crashing Bores



I figured out why that Kodiak bear keeps coming around. Duh. And I thought he just liked me. The bear and I watched the second Bridget Jones movie from OnDemand after it turned out that Beauty Shop was sold out. But then he kept hanging around, making excuses not to leave. It's better not to dwell on disappointment.

Today is so Morrissey.

I have to buy earplugs. Don't let me forget, internet.

Posted 2:14 PM by Licketysplit

Got nothing, but died of complications



Sometimes a Kodiak bear will drop by. He brought me a diet soda.

This morning someone pointed out to me that feeding tubes are the new black. The pope's getting one, and so is Jerry Falwell. If I get one, I'll never have to leave the couch. I guess I would also need a catheter and a colostomy, but the bear should have no problem changing me and occasionally rotating me. Wouldn't want a PBJ to get stuck under a fold. Although come to think of it, the feeding tube probably would not accomodate a sandwich. That would be too bad, because I really like sandwiches of all sorts.

Internet, let it be known that I wish to be killed as needed. Hangnail? Bad haircut? Put me out of my misery! Don't even think about putting me on TV in muu muu. Just wheel me out onto the lanai and let me expire with dignity, watching Golden Girls reruns as you serve me a mango daiquiri laced with downers. I asked Mr. H "You'd kill me, right, baby?" He pledged to smother me with a pillow in a satin case. Heather also offered to kill me, and of course I'd trip over her plug any day. That's love, people.

My dad e-mailed me last week to say he's making an effort to die on the job because his pension will be larger if he does. That 72-year-old bastard climbs eight flights of stairs twice a day. Sadly, this physical exercise will probably prolong his life, but I really appreciate the hustle.

Posted 9:28 PM by Licketysplit

Brainnnnnnnss



Memo to self: do not go to grocery store on day before a holiday. People were tossing hams back and forth like footballs. Animals! I watched fat children waddling out of the store, already munching on candy. Maybe they brought it with them in the first place. Shopping hard.

Luckily, all I needed was salsa and beer, because we celebrate the Lord's rising by having people over to watch a lot of zombie movies. What could be more fitting? Jesus was the original Undead. Besides, the zombie movie is the golden rectangle of movie formulas. I can't think of an occasion when the zombie movie is not appropriate.

Posted 7:44 PM by Licketysplit

Love my way



If it's Tuesday, it must be Wednesday. I seem to be operating under a different time zone. I have a hard time falling asleep at night because the days are sunny and I want to pee on fire hydrants, but that's OK, because the animals are on parade. Ocelots and apes! Donkeys and alligators! They look like felt hand puppets in shades of magenta and yellow. Oh, it's a hippo. There goes the puffin. I think the antelope is a jerk. If I really can't sleep, I crush the animals with Tetris blocks.

I fired the cleaners last month because they were making meth in the guest bathroom with MY Sudafed. They still show up once a week and sadly press their noses against the window, but I shout "NO!" in Spanish, or maybe Portuguese. So now I am cleaning everything in sight, ADD-style. I have to abandon what I am doing at least every ten minutes and go do something else, but things eventually get done. I had a conference call the other day, and what the other participants did not know was that I was on a ladder in the tub, scrubbing the corners of the ceiling with a toothbrush dipped in bleach. Cleanliness, Godliness. Fumes. All that.

Later I picked up trash on the street uncovered by melting snow while yelling into my headset. I wasn't on the phone then, just yelling. OK, I was on the phone. But headsets make everyone look insane. So does picking up trash, but I can't help that. it's in my blood.

Go forth. Nip. Tuck. Spackle. Exfoliate. Oil those hooves. Shine your horn. Shake those bones.

Posted 11:59 AM by Licketysplit

Spring: what's with it



Give me 2 days of sunlight here in typically crappy New England, and I feel like I am on a meth bender. I am the greatest! Look at me run up and down the stairs! Sex sex sex! Oh wait, no, birds, pie! I bought an Umbrellas of Cherbourg-style trenchcoat and a chrome multi-drawer under-sink organizer! Look at that dog; see that dog?

About that dog. I saw some dogs! My favorite had to be the celebrity terrier. People on the street holler "Is that Goblin? Hi, hi, Goblin!" Goblin does not say hi. She lets her entourage handle the little people.

Many thanks to David and Rob for allowing me to stay at their lovely home. A pile of straw in the yard would have sufficed since I am barnfolk, but no, I was allowed in. Safe from Balto-zombie attacks and the chilling laughter of children. Don't worry, I also give thanks via letterpressed notes. It's what God and Miss Manners want.

Southwest Airlines: I did not know they were a "funny" airline before I flew. Cripes. By the time the air hostesses started singing, I was contemplating throwing myself out window. Also, they have no assigned seating. Passengers are divided into groups A, B, and C, and the A group is allowed to storm the seats first and hog the overhead bins. I was an Alpha both times by virtue of genetic superiority and a fabulous new hair cut, so I was able to pick the most avoidant seat (exit row). The Betas shuffled and muttered "I'm glad I'm not an Alpha, so much pressure." The air hostess made a packet of peanuts race a packet of pretzels down the aisle during takeoff, and the Epsilons were truly concerned with the outcome of this contest. Pretzels won. Don't lie, you were emotionally invested just reading this.

To celebrate my return home, we were supposed to watch a bunch of Japanese zombie movies, but Heather and I crossed our wires. So Mr. H and I went to the packy*, because we are in love, and that's what people in love do. It was 10:45 at night, and the nearest packy closed early! So we went across the street to the next nearest packy. Also closed! So we went down a whole block to the next one, and encountered a loud woman with mall bangs slurring "Didja ever try this beef jerky? I swear, it's the answer to yah prayahs!" She fell into a display of Tooters test tube shots on her way out. God wanted this.


*When I first moved to Boston, I thought that was a reference to a Pakistani person. It means liquor store. Who knew?

Posted 5:24 PM by Licketysplit

Oh for....sometimes I wished people was like dogs, Luke



It's get-up-and-go Monday, and that means I got out of bed well before noon. I don't like it any more than you men, but it's how science and the Lord need me to be. I have already done distasteful things like send invoices and print labels and finish the leftover wine in a glass that was on the coffee table. That last one was not as bad as I thought it would be. I think it was Gewurztraminer.

Later, I turned on the TV, and it started on the surgery channel. Instead of operations, they were showing something called "The Baby Human." That program featured researchers showing babies clown masks. Guess what? The babies cried, because CLOWNS ARE FUCKING SCARY. Where can I get an Obvious Grant? So far, my preliminary findings include the fact that traffic can be stressful. I confirmed this between 1 and 3 pm. Also, people dislike closing doors on their fingers. At least I do.

And damn, $4 coffees and damn. I get up to all kinds.

Going to hell, going to hell.

Posted 3:32 PM by Licketysplit

Who would leave Charlie Sheen?



It's Tough Love Thursday over here. During a commercial break in the surgery show I like so much, I caught two seconds of Dr. Phil's oversized maw saying "You've really got to pull your head out!" I never found out whom he was addressing, so I will assume "all of us." So I switched back to surgery, pondering this message from our next President of the United States, and whaddya know, they were pulling a head out on that show, too! It's like God is talking to me.

OK, God is talking to me. He keeps sending me a bat. I can't be sure if it's the same bat every time, but they all certainly share the same accusatory aloofness. God also said to order pizza. God frowns on poor life decisions, like smoking crack and having children with people you don't like. God approves of putting thought into one's hairstyle and good fuel economy. God said to start a spaceship religion, but I only got halfway through filling out the non-profit tax forms. I wonder how the Lutherans managed? Those things are complex.

God also provided me with a handy list of things to talk about on internet "blogs."

1. What have you eaten lately?
2. What do you plan to eat in the future?
3. Read any good NYT articles?
4. How's the weather? Do you have any thoughts on how the weather is?
5. What are your terrible, boring hobbies?
6. Do you have a child? Is it developmentally on schedule?
7. Date much?
8. What gives you the damn right?
9. Isn't Michael Jackson strange?
10. Pets. You must have pets, a well-adjusted person like you.

Posted 6:07 PM by Licketysplit

Mornin' sunshine



Sometimes the paparazzi has a crappy week at work, and you are not wearing pants or makeup, but you say "Hey honey, I'll hold still, and I promise not to make faces." This means something else in other relationships. In my particular situation, it means I remain patient for twenty minutes with a flash going off in my face, or not, or maybe we change lenses. Damn people with hobbies and interests, using them as an outlet to relieve stress. That's not how it's done! The proper response to stress is to pull a blanket up over one's head, or lie on the floor, kicking one's feet in the air like a dying bug.

There are other photos where you can sort of see down my shirt, but I am saving those for when I start internet dating.

I am just kidding, I do not date the internet. I've also decided not to drown Mr. H after all. I guess I could have saved myself the cost of plane tickets, as I was planning to drown him in Spain since I've never met an elaborate scheme I didn't like. If it involves passports, all the better. Lambchop asked me for advice the other day, and I came up with a complicated lie that may have necessitated phony blood samples and defrauding the federal government. And me impersonating a doctor. Sensible girl that she is, she opted for the truth. The truth is a coy mistress, or something. I don't have time for the truth, or makeup, because I am on-the-go, or not getting out of bed before noon on a weekend, or most days, for that matter.

No, I am not such a creature of leisure. I really am on the go. I'm going to Baltimore again for an emergency trash-picking summit, and then I'm not drowning Mr. H in Spain. Does anyone want to watch the cat for me? I need some damn me time, with chilled golden spoons over my eyes.

Posted 10:44 PM by Licketysplit

Behind the Closed Door, the One We Painted Green



Ahh, another day, another hangover at my desk. I am dry as dry toast, my friends. My shoulders and back ache from doing pull-ups, and my eyes are smudged with silver and black from last night's shoot. Many people were dressed like pirates for some reason. I have no idea if the script justifies this, because I can't bear to actually read it, so I just roll along as if in some kind of peyote dream where people are dressed as pirates and talking about galoshes. My favorite line from last night was "What are you gay?" "No, you're gay..." Who ever heard of a gay pirate?!? When people weren't quibbling over sexuality, they were being out-acted by a parrot named Marny. Her comic timing was truly impeccable.

Oh but guess what, I have another shoot tonight! Praise be to the Gods of Creative Output! What would I do if I had to spend a Friday night painting, watching a film, or doing anything other than standing around in my underwear looking like a bad date with Courtney Love, reciting "He is a little Pony Bootsie. You're just close-minded", for 2 hours so they can shoot it from about 50 different angles. I hope my butt gets it's own line in the credits. After Marny, of course.

Damn.

-xo

Posted 11:36 AM by Lambchop

Contracts!



The contract for my landscape commission arrived today. I am supplying the work to a posh new law office, but there is an art consultant who is actually buying the painting from me, having it framed, and being a general nuisance. The consultant lady is a real piece of work. I won't use the word "Gorgon" or offer any further description until after I have been paid. Ahem.

When you have dinner with the devil, you must eat with a really long spoon!

Speaking of satan, the path of my life is strewn with cow pies from the devil's own flatulent herd. Shooting for My Little B Movie has quickened because one of the lead actresses is "in a situation". I am scheduled for three nights of shooting this turkey, this week alone. I am dealing with this by drinking steadily throughout the shoot. By the time we fumble and fuck-up our way to a 2am wrap, I am shouting "I Hate this Movie, I Hate This Movie", to the delight of all!

I am trying to get a gig painting in the Netherlands for 6 months. If this does happen, it will Ciao Boston very soon. I am listening to Styx's "Come Sail Away" for luck.

-xo

Posted 11:02 AM by Lambchop

Punish me with kisses, parking



Ohhhh, internet, internet. This monkey was at the other end of the hall. He is also sultry. I should have checked the other floors for enticing wildebeests or come-hither warthogs.

I know you are wondering where I'm parking during this latest snowstorm. As it turns out, I'm parked in the driveway. Suck it. I never thought having a parking space would be so exciting until after I lived in Somerville. I used to feel like the biggest asshole leaving a table in the space after I dug it out, but if I didn't, someone else would do it right back to me. And if you move a table to park, you get a brick through your windshield. It is the Code of the Jungle.

The pedantic church bulletin board down the street says "Do unto others as if you were others." My first thought was that they meant that one should do all one's dirty deeds under an alias or assumed identity. That's how I usually work anyway. I am right with the Lord.

Yesterday I didn't take my Mother's Little Helper, and when I realized it, I thought "Wot's the worst that can happen?" See, crazy people are always looking for an excuse to stop taking their medication. We feel better, so we must be cured. Well, I guess, kinda. I'm not curled up in a ball* weeping, so that is a huge plus. But I do get the sensation of an electric shock to the middle of my chest every time I move my head. This is not entirely unenjoyable. I like pills in a universal sense, and I also like negative pills. Good day to you, too. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a yogurt** with my name on it.

*With my small frame, I can curl up into a very small ball.

**Tonight is quesadilla night instead. Satan demanded Thai pasta last night, at totally the last fucking minute.

Posted 2:01 PM by Licketysplit