This is what you get in Google when looking for too late. But damn, what is going on with the creepy misogyny. This shit wouldnt be up at on the wall down at the Loews nowadays. Gloria Steinem would have ripped this shit off the wall and eaten it.

QUESTION: I need Halloween costume ideas, stat! Preferably something celebrity related.

Yeah, looks like I was tardy for this one. I don’t know, do you want answers for this one for next year? Sure, why not. Here’s some celebrities.

Here’s some celebrity costume ideas:

Oh, Grampa...

A) Rip Torn. He gets drunk a lot and breaks into banks. Just eff with your coiffe and drink a fifth of gin. And like paste dollar bills to your face. Actually, he told police he thought it was his house he was breaking into. That is DRUNK. They killed him off on 30 Rock cuz’ he was a mess. But the thing is he’s like 80 so it’s more like a let him live his life situation, just take his keys.

TMI, Al!

B) Albert Fish. He ate children. And liked to put needles in his balls. He was cute. Famous!

I feel like her inside.

C) The Crazy Cat Lady from The Simpsons. She’s just amazing. I hate cats so I am more than ok with throwing them at people. Hell, Coraline did it and she saved the day. Everyone should throw cats at Teri Hatcher. Get some cats and wear old lady togs and roll around on some cement. And growl unintelligibly. The Simpsons have been around too damn long, but she needs a spin-off.

This is totally how I felt on Halloween. He even sorta looks like me.

D) Me on Halloween weekend. I’m famous. You DON’T KNOW ME! Anyway, so we are ALL set to go to Spookybear in P-Town for drinking, and some more drinking, and beefy types in skimpy costumes. And we’re just gonna throw the dog at my Mom, and we walk in and she has her leg up cuz’ she fell in a hole. And broke her ankle. And when she was like “oh, I’m fine…just go ahead..”, I was like “Sounds good!” and Scotty stopped me. What about MY needs? We spent Halloween weekend icing her ankle and hoping she’d get over her broken bone and cook for us and watching Law & Order UK. Did you know they have to wear wigs in England to practice law? Itchy. Also there’s close captioned cameras everywhere so you can’t actually commit a crime. It’s kinda fascist. Break out your Guy Fawkes mask and beat up a solider of conformity. What kind of society are we supposed to endure if there’s no crime? Lame. Plus, there’s always some security guard making fun of your hair.

This is what you get when you Google return. How hot were the clothes back then? That chick with the butterfly collar is choice.

Hi. Wow, I think I started receiving death threats. How hot is THAT? So I got a new gig and it involves me social media-ing, and blogging a lot and obviously I left this place abandoned like when a kidnapper has a basement girl and he gets killed and what a horrifying metaphor this is going to be so I’ll stop. Oh, and I decided to start off by answering all the questions left on my last entry (including the gross watch in the toilet one from Bill Cosby and fuck him for asking that cuz’ it’s known I think poop is gross). I would throw up the Unqualified picture but I can’t find the damn thing and I’m too lazy to go back and Save As that mess. I am seriously run down in the life, huh?

QUESTION: How do I react to my best friend who’s been laid off for a year and apparently “job hunting” (read: perusing the classifieds on her leisurely schedule) who’s currently living with a crackhead (read: he does crack occasionally) and is in denial that he doesn’t need rehab but only weekly meetings and suddenly wants to open up a holistic spa/philosophical care center because she wants to spread her message of self peace and healing.

ANSWER: Laugh? Tell her to call you when the shuttle lands? Her message of self peace and healing is going to go right down the shitter when HiHo steals her damn TV to sell for that awful stuff you smoke out of a broken lightbulb. You can not have a meaningful dialogue with someone about acupuncture or reiki when they’re out sucking off the homeless for rock-sharing purposes? How the hell does one smoke crack “occasionally?” I still don’t get how Angelina Jolie had a heroin habit and ended up being as successful and gorgeous as she is? She’s the devil, obviously. I drank a beer once and now I’m a hopeless alcoholic. He’s going to end up shooting her for the refrigerator (ice makers are so rad, especially when they also shoot water).

Anyway, that part of her relationship is obviously going to go up in flames like his pipe. As for the not finding a job, and opening her own hippy-dippy spa thingy. Well, let her. Unless she owes you some money, that’s her deal. Whatever makes her happy, right? Unless Granola Momma owes you money, don’t sweat it. Just get ready for when you want to get dinner and drinks, she suggests McRibs. Oh, and don’t let her recreational crack-smoker dude anywhere near your bag, if you know what I’m saying.

This tasty pic of Ryan Gosling was thrown to me when I Google Imaged annoyed. So be it. He can go either way for me, but I'm liking this. You know how Hulk Hogan would wear t-shirts he could easily rip off his leathery flesh? I feel like Ryan is wearing the hipster version. Go on, Ryan, throw off the repressive shackles called clothing.

I know I’ve been avoiding blogging like the plague. I realize it’s annoying. If there is one thing you need to be as a blogger (besides entertaining or interesting) it’s consistent. And I am not consistent.

I have this weird mental thing sometimes wherein I can’t bring myself to write. It’s a combination of not really caring about celebrities but that’s what I was on the come up writing about so feeling like I still have to. But not wanting to unless they do something fantastic (like die). But then what do I write about? My friggin’ T ride? Maybe this is writer’s block? Also, I’ve been writing for Manhunt’s blog so that has been taking up some of my mentality. And then writing these little previews for go2.com.

So that’s stuff I get paid for, so I kinda gotta focus on that. Because Cooper needs treats. That dog eats better than we do. Seriously, I’m eating microwave dinners and that little bastard is eating prime rib out of a crystal goblet by candlelight with a blindfolded orchestra serenading him. He’s asked for us to build a terrace to sun himself on but I’m putting my foot down even as Scotty was out the door to Homo Depot.

I will try to blog again soon. I will. I promise. Anyone have any questions they need answered? Ask me a question? Or threaten me. Then I’ll get to it. *sigh* It’s humid out.

I could have forgiven the whole thing if they were wearing this...

This one was actually pretty short but it bears writing about.

Dramatis Personae:

The Dancer. Youth, early 20s. White sweatshirt, designer jeans, black plastic sneakers. Braids.

In The Moment. Youth, early 20s. Black hoodie. What looks like harpoons in his face.

The Dancer boards, holding on the pole to the left of me. He has ear buds in, and it is loud enough to hear the hip-hop joint that he begins DANCING to. Not crazy-ass dancing (I once saw a girl in NYC do a pole dance to the music only she could hear on her iPod, it’s one of my favorite NYC moments) but there is some bobbing, some ass action, and some challenging an imaginary adversary to a dance-off on the floor. Except we’re on an inbound MBTA car, son. Oh, and did I say the adversary was imaginary? Not anymore!

In The Moment boards. He looks like he has seen the other side and it’s not exactly halcyon up in there. His handheld device is BLARING some kind of combination nu-metal/rap concoction. Worse than say Linkin Park or Korn (is that possible?). He is without ear buds, he is just LISTENING to his phone play shitty music. And making the rest of us do the same. My morning trip to Venice (I finally got around to reading The City of Falling Angels by John Berendt) has been ruined. The city has already been sunk for me.

The Dancer (still dancing) dances to the other side of the car, directly opposite In The Moment. Their eyes lock. It’s a spaghetti western. Correction, it’s an asshole western. In The Moment closes his eyes tightly, brings the handheld device (still blaring “You Thought Metal Was Bad But We Added Shitty Rapping To It” by Suck) to his chin and freezes. He is In The Moment. He is lost in shredding guitar riffs and bellowing. The Dancer begins to bump his ass against the doors directly behind him, angry that In The Moment has chosen passive resistance. He wants to throw down, but what he doesn’t get is that In The Moment IS throwing down. Because this music is SO good he simply has to FEEL it. The Dancer puffs his chest out and club steps in place.

Is this the shitty remake of Fame? Is this a fucking Droid commercial? Can they tie their wrists together and knife fight and do us all a favor and hit the right artery at exactly the same moment? At least Scott Pilgrim had cool effects during this scene and Allison Pill on drums!

This is not your performing arts high school! It’s really loud on this fucking train now! This is not the dorm or your living room. People have books and ear buds for a reason so everyone can keep whatever they’re into to their goddamn selves. This is Boston. People’s lives shouldn’t get splashed all over each other! No one wants this. This is not a rebellion, these are challenged people!

Anyway – no one won. In fact, I think we all lost a little this morning.

The only way I can forgive audible music on the subway is if it’s coming out of a boom box that lights up and it’s 1983 and someone’s named Lazer.

She better have the DOUBLE SLAP down...

Here’s the trailer for director Todd Haynes‘ remake of the classic Mildred Pierce. As opposed to a two-hour journey of dramatic sacrifice and shrewery, it’s going to be a five part miniseries adapting the novel (more closely than the original film I suppose) for HBO. Weird. Kate Winslet is stepping into Joan Crawford‘s very famous role, and Sophie-Anne the vampire queen of Louisiana is Veda Pearce, Mildred’s daughter who puts the “face” in “bitchface.” I don’t know what that means but I’m fraught with concern that this mini-series will wreck the movie for me.

The original is rad. I was never one to watch classic flicks. I can name on one hand the amount of black & whites I’ve ever enjoyed – Psycho, A Patch of Blue, the beginning of Oz, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf…see? But then my friend Joe threw a couple of get-togethers in which he ran old-school flicks that everyone should see. The ones that made a real impression on me were the one with the scary senior citizen lady governess who was lezzin’ for the dead wife and scarin’ the pants off the new one (I believe she showed off the dead ladies’ squirrel covers?) and Mildred Pierce. Mainly because it didn’t matter that it was black and white. Joan (who in real life was a big fucking mess) was MELODRAMA. Sacrificing herself for a BITCH daughter who hates that its her mom’s waitress job keeping them afloat and still gives her the business even when Mom opens Mildred’s theme restaurants all across Cali because Mom is still “common” and Veda has tentacles coming out of her because she’s from the 13th portcullis of Hades and then Mildred has had ENOUGH and you’ve heard of the double clap (?) well, Mildred hands Veda a DOUBLE SLAP because bitch keeps fixing her mouth to say hainty things.

Witness:

Despite the DOUBLE SLAP, Veda gets on the man Millie married to improve her social standing in Veda’s eyes and then someone gets shot and I’ve spoiled you enough on this film classic. It’s just…really, really good. It’s hardcore. And by that I mean the real deal, the big eyes and the 40s hair and all the sexy subtext and Joan’s infinite patience and pluck as our beleaguered heroine Mill. I know Kate can make this her own because she’s the shit and its Todd Haynes who made Velvet Goldmine. And I mean, Velvet Goldmine.

I have my doubts about Evan Rachel Wood. She turned the vampire queen who could have been glamorous and deadly into a minor character from Dynasty. And not even Joan or Linda…we’re talkin’ Stephanie Beachum. Your veil and poodleless skirt are overpowering your acting, Evan.

I assume this is going to be a whole different animal and won’t sully Joan’s memory at all. I mean, more sullied than a child-abusing alcoholic already has been by her vengeful daughter. Did mother have the last laugh? Did she?

This post has been brought to you by the letter GAY. DOUBLE SLAP!

All I can think of is flies...

Seriously, I have DESPISED the VMAs since I came of age and realized they are basically a commercial for everyone’s album/movie dropping. I also have this weird anxiety about teleprompter jokes that don’t fly. Like when two glittery morons don’t have comedic timing and try to pull off something witty and it falls to the ground like a tasered vagrant. One year I watched an Asian actress who could not speak English pull a samurai sword on that ratty-looking David Spade and it was so painful, so very painful, that I swore to superglue my thumb to the Mute button whenever I had an awards show on in my home. I hate most celebrities, and I hate their entitled bullshit. They only time I like when celebrities are standing at podiums is if they’re drunk or crazy or high or in the middle of some sort of personality crisis. That’s the kind of thing I can get into, because the camera pans to some of the more uptight celebrities in the audience who look uncomfortable or aghast or jealous. I like when it’s real. Except if they can’t pull off teleprompter jokes.

Oh, and I was watching Jennifer’s Body for the first time last night, and it’s the only time I’ve ever appreciated Megan Fox‘s teenage boy cum magnet game (not Diablo Cody‘s best but Fox can deliver some snark, who knew?) and my brother called me. He obviously (I hope) didn’t have to work today because homegirl drunk-dialed my ass and started slurring something about Lady GaGa and roadkill and I’m like what?

And he’s like “the fucking VMAs dude fucking roadkill Lady GaGa fucking roadkill are you fucking kidding me? Dude, dude, dude, *drunken cackle* fucking roadkill dude!” I asked him, even though I already knew, if he was drunk and he’s like “what? what? oh I mean yeah I’m drinking, man” and Fucko KNOWS I hate when he’s drunk dialing me. I hate talking on the phone anyway, and it’s worse when the person calling you is ridic and out of his mind on what I would guess were several hundred Twisted Teas and a bowl. So I told him bye and clicked off. Not in a bitchy way, but he knows me! So I get this text message:

“So sorry I’m just trying to be fun have fun asshole”

So that was my VMAs experience this year.

She's 9. I think she tried to kill James Bond.

Throwing up the deuces? You practically just came out of your mom. Settle down.

who was so annoying in The Day The Earth Stood Still that I wanted to reach through the TV and alarm DSS. The Smith family are always together on the red carpet, and the kids are always in edgy outfits despite being kids. I hate that. I had boogers at that age.

Will is one of those guys that there are gay rumors about but I tend to think he turns to dudes only because sex with Jada looks like it might be painful, like humping up on a large concrete hexagon. She just looks like she has a lot of edges. Ow.

When you’re 9 and fabulously wealthy, you get to cut hot singles in the studio about whipping your hair. It makes me a little uneasy. I don’t think a 9 year old should be whipping her hair about. I think I saw Morgan McMichaels showing a rotund housewife how to do that so she can reclaim the sexy fire in her life on Rupaul’s Drag U. Little girls don’t need to be anywhere near sexy fire. They need to wait until they’re at least 30. Doesn’t she have dolls? Why is someone auto-tuning a 9-year-old?

Imagine you’re the producer and you have to bow down to this little girl in the studio. “I want a sound like when unicorns booty dance. WHERE IS MY CAPRI SUN?”

What about Yo Gabba Gabba and blankies *sad face*? The lyrics sound fairly clean, but who at 9 has the drive to go running around with her little gal pals and giving face and acting like they are grown-up fierce ladies, and being the terror at the food court? Who am I kidding? They all do.

Also, her music has one up on her mom’s. Cause Jada is a big dykie Korn fan or some shit.