Dec 30, 2010

the year in deadly sins


1. Gluttony
November: That night I threw away the red velvet cake I'd baked...and ate an entire bowl of cream cheese frosting in one sitting.

2. Lust
January-December: All those long, lost, wasted hours of sifting through porn .


3. Greed
October: Spending my monthly salary on a trip to San Francisco (to see Peenee and the Golden gate). Worth every penny.

4. Pride
May, August, December: Former students constantly visiting me: two now with phds (!), four who are now coworkers, and well, hell, even the pregnant ones too.

5. Sloth
August: That migraine I got from spending 30 hours in bed, online. (refer to number 2)

6. Wrath
September: When the first new car I'd ever owned was destroyed by a driver under the influence.
(grrrr)

7. Envy
December: Seeing three count 'em three cute gay couples blissfully shopping in Target last week. (ahem)
and you?

the new orleans sartorialist sans camera

Seen this morning on the streetcar :
50ish year old woman in rumpled dirty red baseball jacket, ratted up hair,
no makeup, yellow taffeta ballgown, white tulle underskirt, gold sequins.
Black crocs, white tube socks.

thought for the day

Dec 26, 2010

in mourning



rest in peace, lady t.

Overheard 11:10 am

"How are you today, ma'am?"
(cashier to my mother as I stand 100 feet away, awaiting the inevitable)

"I'm fine. How are you?"
(My mother)

"I'm great! Look what I got for Christmas from my boyfriend!
(cashier holds out a fountain pen)
" Cost 80 dollars!"

"Oh. He couldn't afford a ring?"
(my mother, skeptically)

"Oh, he's bought me a ring already. It's a promise ring, a promise to get engaged."
(girl, non plussed)

"You mean a friendship ring?"
(My mother)

"Oh, no, we're going to get married."

"Really? He just can't commit, I guess."
(My mother cocks her eyebrow)

"Oh, no. We are. Soon as we save up enough money."
(girl, cluelessly)

"Well, uh....good luck with that.

Merry Christmas."
(my mother leaves, sensing my irritation.)

(my mother to me on the way out):

"Pft. What's he buying her 80 dollar fountain pens for? What he needs to be buying her is some teeth. Ain't a tooth in her head. You see that?

thought for the day

via

Dec 25, 2010

Holiday with family

This Christmas, as is typical for holidays, my mother uses a few of her casino comps and she and I make our way to the casino buffet. It's all you can eat fried shrimp, and all you can breathe nicotine.

You know you've been too many times, when you start recognizing the same people every holiday:



1.The Tom Bosley look-a-like in a navy blazer, with his
Madea wig a bit askew. I was afraid it might fall in the ranch dressing.

2.That waiter from the Chinese restaurant, you know, the younger, cuter Justin Timberlake, with his grandparents and parents.

3. The woman on her motorized scooter, with oxygen tank, both color coordinated to her hair: burgundy.

4. The guy with the eyepatch. It's rotated to the left this year.
Does that mean spring will be early this year?

5.
Vietnamese family #1, the tiny patriarch in his most formal white shrimp boots.

6.Vietnamese family #2, decked out like cast members of "Jersey Shore".

Sadly, no sign of Doodie (et famille) however. I'm guessing her baby must be nearly two by now. She probably has her own little tatoo by now.

Miracle on 22nd St.



Sweet.

via ricola

Dec 20, 2010

Inner Santa

So, well, I think I'm kind of nursing a bit of a holiday funk. It's probably just a spell of loneliness.
Who knows.
Sometimes I start thinking about how nice it'd be to get a xmas gift....or a kwanza gift...or a birthday gift...or a bat mitzvah gift...or some kind of gift someday, one day, you know,
from a boy.

Anyway, I figure since I am a boy, I can buy myself my own damned gifts, right?
So that's what I do.
Let's see what my inner boyfriend put in my Xmas stocking this year, shall we?




1. A "Fine Belgian Chocolate" Scrabble game (!) I saw it at Target and
had to buy it. I'll probably play a game by myself, and then eat the
consonants first. Finally, something useful to do with those extra x's.




2. Holy Ghost!'s new cd, which has only six tracks on it, two of them remixes, and three of which I already have. Still, I got it used and cheap.

3. a new cheap little digital camera to replace the one I destroyed by slamming a taxi door on it. Maybe I'll even work up the energy to read the manual.




4. A phrenology head, which honestly, I'd intended to give as a gift,
but may just keep myself. Is there a section on the head that signifies
wanting-to-keep-gifts-for-yourself, I wonder?

Anyway, all nice and all, but, if my inner boyfriend doesn't step it up, I'm going to have to break up with his broke ass.

That's all I'm saying.

thought for the day


Shamelessly stolen from Thombeau

Dec 19, 2010

Rufus, featuring Bok Choy

Last night was Dennis's holiday party. He rented out the big karaoke room at a Japanese place.

By the way, sake bombs and tempura at 10 pm is not a good idea for future reference.

The first (and last) time I did karaoke, apparently I gained something of a reputation (with my Peabo Bryson, Diana Ross, Foreigner medley).
Not sure if that was good or not.

I was forced to do a solo.
I declined all night, but then this is what was chosen for me:



Not to brag, but I think I might be just one gold sequined tube top and three sake bombs away from getting up on stage.

Unfortunately, instead of having Chaka up on the screen in her full glory, the state-of-the-art, straight-from Japan karaoke machine there shows postcard images of rural Japan:

pretty young Japanese girls coyly splashing water with their toes (Journey's Don't Stop Believin'), Mt. Fuji at sunset (Coolio's Gansta's Paradise), the bullet train. (Amazing Grace)

I had to sing Rufus while watching a panorama of bok choy fields.

Dec 17, 2010

thought for the day*


via

*Now tell Santa, what do you want for Xmas?

Dec 16, 2010

weekly reader

The other day, rummaging about in my mother's house, I happened upon one of my favorite books from childhood.

It's about Andrew Henry, who loves to build crazy inventions. These, however, simply annoy his family, so moves to the meadow where he won't bother anyone.

Other children follow him, and he builds them houses, each of which reflects his or her personality.
Soon there's a whole little village of children. Of course, this could have easily veered into Lord of the Flies territory, but, thankfully, it doesn't. It's actually very heartwarming.


That treehouse, of course, was my favorite.




As a kid, although I was pretty much always alone, I was always building houses:
tree houses, birdhouses, dollhouses, cardboard houses,
whole civilizations of sticks and mud.

As a kid I also spent a lot of time fantasizing about running away too, one day living in my own house. Ok, so I still kind of do, but it was easier to build a civilization of sticks and mud.

Anyway, I still want that tree house, just now with central air and drapes.

Dec 14, 2010

Overheard, Saturday



In patrician Southern drawl, one steely haired matron introduces herself to another (in the parlor of the above house):

"It's so nice to meet you. I live in the house where Jefferson Davis died,
you know."



(many thanks again to the eminently gracious and entertaining Nathan of Laurel Street for a wonderful tour of uptown this weekend)

Dec 8, 2010

"Still looking for that blue jean, baby queen"



just saw this Dior ad starring one my my girl crushes, Marion Cotillard on project rungay, using a song which I was just thinking about the other day, David Essex's "Rock On"

Just 'cause.

Dec 7, 2010

overheard 7:30 a.m.



‎"Damn, I just hate when bitches be cockblockin' me!"
announces "Cootuh" in homeroom.

Try as I might, I just can't understand the infinite paradoxes of this sentence.

thought for the day


Dec 5, 2010

vicarious name dropping

Every other day, it seems, I'm getting some email from a friend which leaves me pea green with envy. Things like:

"Oh, Provence is just gorgeous in October", or "Oh, I just got back from Chik Fil-a", or
"Oh, I just had sex this decade."

This, however, from tonight, takes the cake:

"They came into our store in the quarter. It's funny too because they came in, and I think "oh, they surely look like David Bowie and Iman" but I didn't think it actually was them because I don't actually meet celebrities, well except that time I met Lindsay Lohan too, but that story is lame.

They were really down to earth and normal people. They said they got bored in Miami so flew out here.

I got kinda stupid when I realized they really were David Bowie and Iman. I couldn't talk completely and I failed to ask anything or get a picture taken or anything. But they stayed about an hour and talked to us. Just so you know, Iman is approximately 12 feet tall and David Bowie has the most attractive laugh ever."


thought for the day


via

Dec 4, 2010

baby alive/birthday aleve

Today is my mother's birthday. On Wednesday (while I was leaving), she announces:


"You don't have to visit Saturday or anything, you know, if you don't
want to. I know you probably have things to do with your friends. It's my birthday, but that's all right, if you don't want to
come. It's all right."

Uh, yeah, like I'm not going to go after that, right?
ahem

Somehow she's managed to snag at least three free desserts in the past week by shamelessly announcing that it's her birthday. One of those, ice cream (which she didn't even eat) at the Chinese restaurant, she got by blatantly lying and saying that Wednesday was her birthday.

Shameless.

She got her comeuppance, however, when they put the lei around her neck and forced her to take a photograph. She was mortified. To make things worse, my fortune cookie read: "Your fortune is sweet as a cookie"
To which she said:
"Hey, that ought to be mine!"
Hers read: "Be patient: in time, even an egg will walk."
To which she replied: "What the shit does that mean?"

"It means don't lie about your birthday. That's what it means," is what I said.

Anyway, after yet another birthday lunch today I took her Christmas shopping. Since we don't have any children to shop for, and what fun is Christmas without children? I enlist her in helping me pick out the clothes for the homeless child I "adopt" each year for Christmas. A nun I know organizes a party. This year I was given an eight year old girl. Seems she wants Santa to bring her a "Baby Alive" doll.

I hadn't even heard of a "Baby Alive" before, but the name kind of freaks me out. I mean really, is the word "alive" necessary?

Isn't that like the whole premise behind a baby doll, to pretend that it's alive?
What's the alternative...a fetus in a jar you can dress up?
I mean really.

Anyway, so I bought one of those.
(Baby Alive, I mean, not Fetus in a Jar)
My mother picked out some clothes, since I'm kind of clueless....some pants and a jacket and some kind of tacky sequined sweatshirt. I grimaced, but she's probably right, the girl will love it. If I had a daughter she'd probably be forced to wear everything in shades of off-ecru, and hate me for the rest of her life.

I spent a few hours before taking her to another birthday dinner wrapping up all this stuff, using some of the stash of ribbons and paper my mother has squirreled away for the past 40 years, you know, just in case we have to wrap Christmas gifts after a nuclear holocaust. This eight year old will be getting presents wrapped in what may be Nixon era ribbon.

Dec 2, 2010

qvc daddy

Ok, so I'm watching QVC.
Again.

While you people out there have attention spans that allow you to watch wonderful dramatic series and recurring comedies, my tiny mosquito-like brain can only bear to watch what requires the fewest number of brain cells possible.
It's sad.

So here I am with the high pitched drone of Isaac Mizrahi going on and on about khakis.
No need to watch that.

Whenever I hear Bradley Bayou, however, I let my finger linger on the clicker a bit.

Ok, I may even mouth a quiet, spontaneous "mmm. daddy" every now and then too.




I won't lie.

thought for the day