Apr 28, 2009
Apr 26, 2009
2. Diet Coke: It's funny that I had never even tasted the stuff until my ex introduced it to me some million years ago. It's the longest lasting part of that relationship, but, sadly, not the most poisonous.
3. Sinus medicine: but it's hell living without it. Yes, yes, yes, I know it's bad, but see number 8.
4. White foods. And I don't mean Grey Poupon.
5. The word "anyway." Anyway, I overuse it.
6. LU biscuits: the dark chocolate ones. I can't trust myself around them.
7. Target: You know it's bad when you realize a mercury glass lamp with dark blue shade (not yet on sale) has been moved an inch and a half to the right since the last time you were there.
8. Procrastinating what's frightening: Heck, I'll even procrastinate enjoyment. That's how sick I am.
Apr 25, 2009
By now I'm sure you've all heard the sad news. God bless her. I remember my first knowledge of her as a little child, from "All in the Family"...and then later "Maude", which my father would always insist I turn off because he hated "that goddamn woman."
Thankfully, he fell asleep quickly during Gunsmoke and Bea was soon working her magic on me. She's continuing to work her magic on us all, I think.
Apr 20, 2009
But I digress.
Today, standing at the door, watching my class file in, I could smell smoke coming from that direction. So could they.
"What's that?" a girl asked. "You smell that? Something burning?"
"Yeah. You right. Smell like barbecue to me. Ribs, mmmmmm," someone answered her.
"Yeah, they having a block party or somethin' out there. I heard em laughin' crazy,"
someone else added.
"Yeah, but...but..." she sniffed the air again..."I smell...sum'in else. What is that?" She paused and took one last big sniff.
"Weed. Yep, it's weed," she answered her own question triumphantly.
And indeed she was right. It was unmistakable. A great cloud of weed was wafting over the campus. Only later, when I was filling out a detention slip for someone sleeping in class, did I realize the date...and suddenly everything made sense.
Apr 19, 2009
Hand wringing anxiety over what to wear to the opera...giving way to frustration...giving way to giving up.
Disappointment at the renovations to the theater, finally reopened post Katrina. I mean really, off-purple walls?? The bathrooms were nice, however.
Dennis almost bringing his McDonald's large sweet tea into the lobby. I encouraged him, but he changed his mind at the last minute.
Noticing that I was wearing almost exactly the same costume that Alfredo wears in the second act. I guess that made it either appropriate or not, depending on how one looks at it.
The news that La Traviata had had its New Orleans debut on this very date in 1857, only five years after its debut in Venice.
Someone farting, not once, but twice.
Silent, but deadly.
Gorgeous set for the first act. Now, that's what I'm talking about. Full-on Baroque, baby.
The whole opera was actually wonderful. The lead, Violetta, especially was incredible, albeit this is from a philistine like me.
Memories of my last time at the theater. I pointed out to Dennis where
the unfortunate incident of the 200 pound woman in a light yellow chiffon dress/no-limits wrestling occurred. Though technically it occurred in the whole aisle.
The sight of a friend of a friend, out with a woman 3/4th better looking than his wife. Dennis, laughing: "A courtesan?" Me: "A courtesan in a pantsuit maybe."
A family, all four of them, including two toddlers, wearing seersucker suits.
Two straight men with heavy Yat accents talking alternately about "duh Saints" and "Cawmuhn" (either the previous opera or one of their mothers-in-law, hard to tell sometimes.)
The lovely sound of three beautiful young Russian women talking in Russian, descending the staircase.
The smell of post-opera boiling crawfish from the parking lot. Where else but here?
The sight of a flock of pigeons viciously fighting over a Popeyes chicken bone on mezzanine balcony. Where else but here too.
German Chocolate gelato and banana cupcakes in my old neighborhood, in an old camera store, newly renovated.
I've had a month long headache.
The poisonous buck moth caterpillars are dropping like kamikaze pilots from the oaks.
And of course, one has just dive bombed my foot today...again.
Apr 18, 2009
thanks to all who played....and congratulations to MJ!
The answer to my question below is none other than "my little love" himself: Jan Handzlik, now an attorney. (Representing, it seems, none other than Girls Gone Wild pimp, Joe Francis...ugh)
Apr 17, 2009
So, I was watching one of my favorite films of all time the other night and got to wondering.
"Sheesh, what ever happened to him anyway?"
A bit of research at 4 am turned up this picture of him here, now a lawyer it seems.
(and a celebrity one at that)
It seems he disappeared pretty quickly after his debut. He doesn't even have a wikipedia page, but he does have an imdb page. The first of all four comments on it is the ominous:
"This guy was the creepiest thing ever recorded on film."
Can't say I'd argue with that actually.
Anyway, I wonder if anyone can guess.
By way of govtdrone by way of
"On the evening of March 31st, 2009, Tim Tevebaugh was driving home from work east of Craigmont in the southern Idaho Panhandle (see map below). Across the rolling hay fields, Tim saw a very usual phenonmena. The snow rollers that he took pictures of are extremely rare because of the unique combination of snow, wind, temperature and moisture needed to create them. They form with light but sticky snow and strong (but not too strong) winds. These snow rollers formed during the day as they weren't present in the morning on Tim's drive to work."
the national weather service.
Matt Tyrnauer: When Bruce Weber [the photographer] heard I was doing a film, he said, "Oh, you’ve never done a film before. I’ll take you out to lunch and we can talk about it." He said, "Hire male models to work for you. It doesn’t matter if they know how to do anything; you’ll get double the time with Valentino and Giancarlo." And let me tell you, no better advice has been dispensed. We did hire male models, and eventually the job they ended up doing was putting the mikes on Valentino and Giancarlo before we’d start filming each day. You know, it has to go under the clothes. Well, they loved that. They’d say, "Is it time to get our mikes on yet?"
By way of sturtle by way of NYmag
Sitcom sets in painstaking miniature. This one is from "Designing Women".
I just wish he'd made a miniature Bernice to go along with it.
See the rest of his obsessiveness here
By way of lots of co.
Apr 16, 2009
BATON ROUGE -- Legislation that would prohibit scientists in the state from creating human-animal hybrids for experimentation -- believed to be the first such ban proposed in the nation -- has been filed for debate at the lawmaking session that opens April 27.
Ummm...I'm afraid "scientists" around here have been attempting this for years in their own backyards and fields.
I think I've seen evidence of their success a few times at the Dollar General Store.
Anyway, I'm glad to see that, again, Louisiana is on the cutting edge of science.
Apr 13, 2009
It's so big!
(Out of frame, sharing the same parking lot, is the Texas-Steak-All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet [I paraphrase]...clearly for the Swedish visitors. No meatballs for them, thank you.)
Watching as a hispanic blonde in stacked high heels maneuvers her way through the bathroom accessories. Later on, she and her equally blonde friend attempt to maneuver their SUV out of the parking lot, also in stacked high heels.
So many couches (tables, lamps, curtains) but no way to get them home.
I wanted this one in patent black leather, to go with my...umm...Camaro.
The Swedish Meatballs looked more durable than the couches
I fondled the cowhides at least twice. I was tempted at least twice, but resisted. One needs a loft for a cowhide, I decided.
a bit of Pytti Panna (see left) floating in the toilet I skipped over.
My sole purchase: a bag. No cowhide.
No animals were harmed by my visit, unless one counts the Pytti Panna.
"Can I buy a drink here?" I ask the cashier. "Sure," he answers. I pay him. He gives me the change. I wait awkwardly as he sorts money. "Can I have a cup?"
"Sure. Glasses are up there," he says, never looking up. Finding them, I excitedly get some Lingonberry soda, find it's suspiciously like Cranberry cocktail.
Ranch dressing in a pump! (the photo above is only an approximation. IKEA is working on its own ranch dressing fountain, I'm sure. I can't wait)
The friendly but intimidating sign on the table tells me why it's so wonderful and Swedish for me to clean up my own table. I try. I walk through the cafe, but I can't find anywhere to place my glass. I place it where I want.
"Pipi?" I hear a voice ask from the doorway of the men's bathroom. "Uh, yeah," the guy in the stall next to me fearfully answers. Suddenly, despite his answer, the men's room is ambushed. Through the crack in the stall door I can see a middle aged Mexican woman frantically cleaning. All at once, like an acrobat, she leaps up and stands on the vanity, cleaning the mirrors. The scent of some Swedish version of Fabuloso fills the air.
2. Relief: Not dressed nearly as inappropriately as I had feared. My mall wear blended in all too well.
3. Shame: My mall wear blended in all too well.
4. Boredom: Waiting with 50 or so other people outside the theater for the band to unload while tornado like winds whipped through downtown Houston.
5. Frustration: Missing seeing even a glimpse of him on the street because of dust blown in my eye. And his 300 pound guard.
6. Envy: Why can't we have nice theaters like this in NO? We can't have anything nice.
7. Comfort: reclining seats and no smoke at a concert!?
8. Curiosity: The hordes of latino(a) fans, including one paraplegic, one with her 12year old child...and at least two cholita midgets.
9. Humor: watching the five or so fans jump onstage during the last number to clutch at the love god himself. Flawlessly choreographed.
Apr 8, 2009
Tomorrow, straight after work, I'll be setting off to join Michael on a pilgrimage to Houston to see the "Britpop Godhead" himself.
I've never actually been to Houston before. I know, hard to believe, but true.
How've I managed to avoid it so long? I don't know.
No offense to fading asexualish popstars with Oscar Wilde fixations, but the main draw for me is that I've heard there's an IKEA there!
I've never seen one of those either. I'm very excited. They won't even send the catalog out here to the wilderness.
What does one wear to a Morrissey concert anyway?
Apr 7, 2009
A Metairie resident is recovering after a stranger bit a chunk of flesh out of his arm and swallowed it Saturday afternoon.
Joseph Lancellotti, 67, told authorities he did not know the suspect, later identified as Mario Vargas, 48, or why he was attacked in his front yard.
Lancellotti was gardening at his home in the 4400 block of Kawanee Avenue about 2 p.m. when he noticed a man walking toward his house, shouting angrily, the report said. Lancellotti said he couldn't understand the man because he was yelling in Spanish. But when the man got within two feet, he slugged Lancellotti in the head, the report said.
Lancellotti said he tried to defend himself with a garden rake. As the men struggled over the rake, the stranger bent over and bit Lancellotti on his right forearm, the report said. Lancellotti's flesh ripped away as he fell to the ground. The man then got on top of Lancellotti and began choking him, the report said.
It was then that neighbor Chantal Lorio, a podiatrist and director of the Wound Center at East Jefferson General Hospital, came out to check on Lancellotti. Lorio said Monday that she first thought Lancellotti was having a heart attack and the other man was trying to help him.
The stranger was still gripping Lancellotti as Lorio noticed her neighbor was lying in a pool of blood. She didn't learn what happened until she began dressing the wound -- with the stranger still clutching her neighbor's shirt.
"He said, 'He bit my arm, chewed the flesh and swallowed it in front of me, ' " Lorio recalled. She said the bite measured almost 3 by 1 1/2 inches, and was less than 1/4-inch deep.
The pair tried to calm the stranger, who never made any attempt to run away. He eventually let go of Lancellotti and walked two blocks to a parking lot, where he hovered near an empty police car, the report said. The suspect was still standing there when deputies arrived and took him into custody.
Vargas, of 724 Camp St., New Orleans, was booked with second-degree battery. He was being held Monday at the Jefferson Parish Correctional Center in Gretna in lieu of $25,000 bail.
Lancellotti's wife, Bonnie, 60, said Monday that her husband was recovering from the bite, physically and mentally. She said his sense of safety in his neighborhood has been shaken.
With all the bacteria involved, Lorio said a bite from a human is worse than an animal bite.
Bonnie Lancellotti also has concerns about the suspect, who apparently had been treated at East Jefferson General Hospital earlier in the day for a finger injury. Vargas was released 45 minutes before the attack, according to the incident report.
Bonnie Lancellotti wondered whether hospital staff noticed anything amiss while treating Vargas. "This person's clearly lost his sense, " she said. "I mean, what else can you say, eating people's skin?"
Keith Darcey, spokesman for the hospital, said, "We cannot comment on any individual patient because of privacy laws. But as a matter of general hospital policy, the emergency department has behavioral health nurses available to help diagnose patients who might require mental health assistance."
Apr 5, 2009
Fabulon's recent post on Abba's S.O.S. got me thinking back to a less famous song by the same title, ABC's S.O.S.
I remember the old days, always having to look through the countless ABBAs to find the poor lost little ABC in the cd racks.
I'd never seen this video before. It's nice....and vaguely homoerotic.
Oh, the magic of the internet!
Anyway, it's one of my favorite ABC songs...and that's saying something.
Apr 2, 2009
(resident class smartass)
"What's the square root of 69?"
"I don't know." (her naive friend)
"Pft. Never mind."
(smartass is frustrated, but tries again)
"What's the square root of 6.9?"
"I don't know...I ain't good in math."
"This ain't math, stupid!"
I don't know. (increasingly frustrated)
"What's the square root of 6.9?
A good thing messed up by a period."
(giggling from the outer audience.
Encouraged, smartass continues)
"Ok. Ok. What's the new gay website?
" : pound pound pound"
(confusion...and a smattering of nervous laughter)
"What's O. J. Simpson's new website?
// \ Escape "
"I don't get it." (naive friend shrugs)
"Girl, there ain't no hope for you. He killt his wife!
"Lord have mercy."
(shaking her head in disgust)