Off the reservation

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Let’s run the numbers, shall we?

hours spent flying: 3.5

hours spent in airport: 11

crying children: 4

times I heard “I Shot the Sheriff” while sitting near airport Starbucks: 3

calories in a tall non-fat flavored latte: 210

cost of wireless access day pass: $7.95

cost to park car at airport: $66

hours spent with parents: 12.5

hours spent with stress-induced narcolepsy: 4

cost of flight and hotel: $750

amount of gift certificates received by Mr. H for Sharper Image: $200

things he might actually want at Sharper Image: maybe Robosapien?

amount of cash received: approx. 6 months of therapy co-pays

times i was offered cranberry bread: 9

times i was bitten by a cat: 3

moments of heart-stopping terror and pity upon opening ugly gift: 1

times i said “damn”: countless

times we saw a dog crap in the lobby of a nice hotel: 1

(pictured: actual lobby of our hotel, stunt double dog)

I’m OK, you’re OK Update!

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In Boston news, it’s COLD. It shouldn’t be surprising, this being, in fact, New England, but every year this is News. Surf’s up, Sri Lanka, in Boston it is COLD! As I tottled to work feeling, well, nothing, I thought it might be about time I learned to drive. Maybe Helen will teach me. Especially as she has not had a use for her beloved riding crop since she sold Mr. Sparkles and Ting-Ting to the dog food factory.

In other NEWS, I am getting my hair done today. It IS the apocalypse, after all. This is the year of Day After Tomorrow, and Locusts! And also, Locusts!

Hrmm, what else is going on in our world? i have lately been enjoying my coffee with a bit of cinnamon in it. And the huge 13 gallon cannister of popcorn in the lunchroom is Nearly Empty! Christmas is over at my building, and I thought this would be a matter of the giant fluffy santa village in the atrium there one day, and gone the next. Not so! It is in stages of dismantling, which means all the cotton is gone, and there are empty “presents” boxes standing around. It gives me a hangover, and I have not even been drinking.

Helen is back from Richmond, and I am sure she will have news of her own, as soon as she is back from her de-worming cure.

Oh, and by the way, Locusts!

-xo

Phuket

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The world is a shitty place, so fuck it. We most likely will never see anyone with leprosy and we can buy scratch tickets, so fuck it. Our president is a misunderestimated maniac who thinks a spray of bullets does more to attain peace than famine aid, so fuck it. But you’ll still die poor, so fuck it. Ever since the planet was industrialized, we lost our sense of purpose, so fuck it. We are no longer human, so fuck it. Artists are automatic failures, so fuck it. You can’t move those who are innured to suffering or insulated in their wealth, so fuck it. It is almost impossible to find love in world that is either dominated by misfortune or self-involvement, so fuck it. The poor are animals and the rich are criminals, so fuck it. My hair looks great, so fuck it. This is not a bitter rant, so fuck it. The world is beautiful, so fuck it. Help is never going to arrive, so fuck it.

I am the only one who showed up to work today, so i am going to read the funny paper. FUCK IT.

-xo

La Vita è Bella

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Norepinephrine, where have you been all my life? YOU are my new favorite neurotransmitter. You are cashmere socks and lollipops, whiskers on kittens and radishes cut like rosebuds, toe separators and expertly placed highlights. You are like that dream I had the other night, the one where I ordered “Canadian” Xanax from an internet pharmacy. When it arrived, it looked like Viagra and baby aspirin, but I took it anyway and spent the rest of the dream riding an old-fashioned velocipede around a tropical city, stoned out of my gourd. I even thought “I wish Lambchop could be in this dream!”

In preparation for flying this weekend, I would like to share my Top Tips for Travel with our dear readers.

1. BYOB

2. Wear a sleep shade, ideally as soon as you get into the airport. There are ugly people allowed in those things!

3. If a child is annoying you, take it aside and kindly explain that you will flush it down the toilet, where it will immediately freeze solid as soon as it hits the outside air, followed by a 30,000 foot plummet into someone’s rumpus room.

4. Stockpile your “Canadian” Xanax. I’d reserve this for long-haul flights.

5. Load up your iPod with the soothing sounds of meditation exercises. “I will devastate my enemies….I am adored as a God….I let you live….”

6. Freestyle. This part is really up to you. Whether it’s twitching, pacing, or screaming, you want to make this flight a memorable experience for the other passengers. They are counting on you!

Coming soon: My list of Things I did not like about 2004. Yup, just phoning it in. Go to hell, I still have to assemble gift baskets for people I don’t like.

All We want for Christmas…

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Greetings, Vomiketeers! It is almost time for another Crappy Kringle. I hope you are all enjoying navigating the hordes of chancred shoppers in your quests for the perfect inlaid shoehorn for your girlfriend’s mother to wedge her sausagey feet into a new pair of Totes. We will be with you in spirit when you are drunk at an undercooked ham dinner, stuttering to suppress your distaste for your porcine cousin’s support for George Dubya. We loathe your family and your plastic yule log almost as much as you do.

Which brings us to Lambchop’s Annual Xmas Wish List:

1. A warm coat

2. Lots and lots of angsty music

3. more drugs!

4. I said more drugs!

and finally,

5. a little health and happiness for me and my Licketysplit!

-xo

Crash Boom Bam

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Reunions are swell, aren’t they? On Sunday I met up with my old pal Matt Houston. We met in 1999, at a time when I was very ANGRY, and we laughed so hard for 5 days straight that we didn’t sleep. I tried to get him to come with me to Berlin, but at least he let me take his sweater. He was “my new gay boyfriend”. So finally after some years in Holland, he met me in Boston, and after a drive in which we ignored all traffic laws (laws, piffle!) we landed at the B-side purely for their fine bloody marys. 5 marys and 3 martinis later, we parted, and I woke up face down on my floor at 10pm, feeling like Brian Jones on a lucky day. But that’s what love is, folks, that’s what love is.

-xo

Signs

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We at Vomitola attended various parties this weekend, and one included a “yankee swap.” I had never heard of such a thing, but it turns out this is an exercise wherein everyone gives each other $20, like in Caddyshack. Sometimes this $20 is first transmuted into ugly crap you don’t want in your house. My heart just sank when I saw things like “Mexican tortilla grills” come out. Mr. H and I actually got $20 in cash in an envelope, making a cool $2 over our contribution, a bottle of merlot I grabbed out of the wine rack as we raced out the door. I didn’t even wrap it; I tied a damn bow on it and scraped off the price sticker. Still, it proved popular, maybe because it was not Trivial Pursuit or some kind of oil dipping set. I instinctively prodded Mr. H to grab the lone envelope, thinking that, at worst, it would be movie passes. Everyone was too polite to swap for the cash, but I will re-gift that $20 like damn.

I read a sign outside a little olde-tyme convenience store, called a superette or a spa or something, and it said “LEAN HAM.” Now I take things very literally, and I am compliant by nature. EAT. DRINK. LOUNGE. RESERVE PIE NOW. These are urgent calls to action. If I had any ham, I would have leapt out of the car and tilted it just so. Instead I just spent the weekend saying “LEAN HAM” and laughing.

What else. I switched dry cleaners because the employees of the more conveniently located one are just too unattractive. My fear of ugliness is at a new high, and I recently learned there is an actual term for it: cacophobia. Holy damn. When I was a kid, I was afraid of amputees (strangely, there were a lot of them in the backwoods) and this one tree that had been hit by lightning. Over the years, this has turned into a fascination with obesity (I am now only 362,250 extra calories from morbid obesity!), and a tendancy to see people I don’t know as misshapen trolls. Like David Sedaris said, “Everyone looks retarded if you put your mind to it.” I would bring this up to my therapist, but he is not attractive! Ethicist, what should I do?

The Lonely Hearts Club

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It’s Saturday night. There are parties to go to, drinks to be spilled, hands to slide up skirts, and lampoil burning in studios. But it is also a night for lonelyhearts. For lonelyhearts, Saturday night is like christmas to an orphan- it turns the solitary number 1 into an exclamation point.

So, while we clean our brushes, go out and get drunk and felt up, we leave the floor to one of the loneliest people we know:

I’m hot, I’m so very hot. You look at me and see how HOT I am. Have an egg- fresh from my body onto your plate. They are also Hot. I like planaria and grubs and so do you. and I am HOT. Hey, i know what you two are going to do in there. Gottagetlaid, gottagetlaid. CHICKEN LADY LOVES LIFE!

-xo

Head Space

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It’s interesting to note throughout history the lengths people will go to in order to remove each other’s heads. We at vomitola favor the method of those chilly Chinese, the Flying Guillotine. This dandy little basket made of whirring blades and a lampshade, can separate you from your topper with stunning efficiency. It’s a dark film, filled with all manner of cruel demise. We could not have come up with better ourselves.

And there are so many people out there who really would benefit from a head-ectomy. The streets and supermarkets are packed with the fumblers, mumblers, or just plain ugly. “Why are we plagued thusly?!” you ask us, gentle readers. We cannot answer this. We can only suggest you do as we do- medicate yourself, have a good time, and take a little lie down after trips to the store. Helen does! So what if you have to cross the street to avoid soemone unsightly! So you have to screen your calls and your eyes ache from rolling. You are obviously insane.

Merry Christmas, We Let You Live!

-xo