it's an epidemic!

I've always envied Jess because she truly has the best celebrity spottings ever. Even her lovely grandmother is impressed with her roster. Jess counts Ice-T, Rick Ocasek, Meryl Streep and... drumroll please... Crispin Glover!!!! among them. Me? I saw the dude who played Joe Isuzu near the Ziegfeld once. And John Shea, the low-key-yet-talented-character-actor-who-does-not-make-for-all-that-exciting-a-
celebrity-sighting over by The Plaza one night. Oh and I once saw that guy who plays Justin on Queer As Folk on the 6 train. I looked over at him and he looked over at me and tossed his hair but that was the extent of our encounter. I then went about the rest of the ride thinking, "Dude, I've seen you naked."

But other than that, my pickings have been rather slim and uneventful. However, I find myself on somewhat of a roll these days. Last night, I accompanied Sheila to her friend's spectacular one-woman show called Hamiltonia at the Upright Citizens Brigade. I congested myself from laughter, people. In case there's any doubt, that's a good thing. Nothing a little toke on the puffer and some decongestant can't fix. The show was funny, touching and totally inspirational for me. I'm SO going to get off my duff and get back to work on some stalled projects of mine. Thank you for the oomph, Rachel Hamilton.

As we milled about in front of the theater to pay homage to Rachel afterwards, who walked out of the entrance and stood near me but one TINA FUCKING FEY?!?! I thought I was going to die. I'm a fan, you see. I turned on my heel and gasped right in Sheila's face. Tina must have noticed because she offered up a genuine smile and a hello. I'm thinking she wanted to keep me on her good side lest I be insane with designs on murdering her and keeping her hide as a souvenir. My life was made in that moment.

Oh, but there was more! When Rachel emerged, she graciously made the rounds and chatted with the various groups of people offering ecstatic praise and adulation. She served as the shared subset in a very social Venn Diagram. She would split her time between Sheila and I in Set A, TINA FUCKING FEY and RACHEL FUCKING DRATCH in Set B and various other sets. And then Sets A and B converged into one sweet circle. Dude, I have a whole new appreciation for contemporary math. When TINA FUCKING FEY stuck out her hand and shook mine and said, "Hello, Curly," I think I peed a little.

Oh, but there's even more! We went out for drinks!! Well, TINA FUCKING FEY didn't but Rachel the Star of the Evening, RACHEL FUCKING DRATCH, Sheila, myself and a gang of others all engaged in some celebratory post-show libations. Dude, I was in RACHEL FUCKING DRATCH's entourage. She was like a wee pink-clad pied piper leading us through Chelsea to our desired watering hole. All the while people kept pointing and saying, "That's Rachel Dratch!" and I felt so fucking cool and did my best to emit that aloof, unaffected vibe. Meanwhile, my bladder was becoming increasingly overtaxed with all the excitement.

I am pleased to report that RACHEL FUCKING DRATCH is totally chill and couldn't have been friendlier to me. In addition, I met a bunch of other friends of Rachel the Star of the Evening who were equally kick ass. I had an amazing time. Thanks again, Sheila!

I'm seriously still buzzing from last night and barely did a stitch of work today. Luckily, we were released early because of the holiday. I bolted from the office as soon as possible and headed towards home so that I could get caught up with some shopping and what not. I was approaching my front door when I spotted yet another famous face!!! Um, yeah, Steve Schirripa aka Bobby "Bacala" Baccalieri of The Sopranos is doing some shopping in my neighborhood too. Nice!

I'm still no match for Jess and her unparalleled celebrity-attracting aura but I no longer feel as lame. Well, in this respect at least...

adam sandler doesn't dice my onions

Jess: OMG, I love the last line of this Gawker Stalker... "This past Saturday (5/21) on West 25th Street -- Jared Leto, not so tall and with a very short buzz cut, hanging out in front of the recording studio next to friends' gallery. Walked by him several times during the afternoon -- he and his 'band' were taking frequent smoking breaks -- and he looked my friend straight in the eyes in that 'you KNOW who I am, don't you' kind of arrogant way. He didn't grill my cheese at all."

Yours Truly: Grill my cheese! Ha ha ha!

Jess: I am stealing that phrase

Later...

Jess: From Adam Sandler's Fame Audit... "He may be in the $25 million club, but we liked him much better when he had a pickle for a moustache."

YT: Blech! I hate him

Jess: I love Fametracker so much. Oh man, they're ripping on The Wedding Singer, specifically on Drew... "All of which, by the way, were dressed and coiffed totally anachronistically. I mean, everyone in that stupid movie committed to looking ridiculous per the '80s setting except Princess Daisy, with her bob and her combat boots. There was no grunge in the '80s, bitch, and I don't care that she didn't realize it because she spent that decade totally shitfaced; someone should have taken her out back and given her a mullet, because if there has to be photographic evidence that I had one, she should not be spared."

Jess: Awesome

YT: Ha ha ha ha ha. That is awesome! God, I hated that piece of crap movie

Jess: I liked it

YT: No need to whisper. You and millions of others liked it. I'm one of the few holdouts. It had potential but Adam Sandler pissed it away with his broad comedy and lack of attention to detail. He's an ass and I wish he'd go away. In fact, I'd like to take him and Rosie O and crack both their skulls together and then ship them off on a piece of drift wood into shark-infested waters. But first, I'd bathe them in chum

Jess: But but... Punch Drunk Love?

YT: Didn't see it

Jess: But but... Billy Madison?

YT: I HATE BILLY MADISON

Jess: But but... 50 First Dates?

YT: Are you serious? Rob schneider AND Adam Sandler together?! Girl, are you trying to give me an aneurysm?

Jess: Rob Schneider?

YT: Dude, if you say The Hot Chick I'm never speaking to you again

Jess: BUT BUT... DEUCE BIGALOW

YT: Didn't see it

Jess: Deuce Bigalow is genius... Actually, I'm pretty sure The Roommate and I are the only two people that liked Deuce Bigalow

YT: I was more in the Chris Farley camp. Tommy Boy makes me incontinent

Jess: See? Chris Farley never really grilled my cheese

YT: Well done!!

Jess:

YT: Ooh, let's think of other cooking-related euphemisms for liking something

YT: Toast my muffin

YT: Pickle my cucumber

YT: Egg and bread my cutlets

Jess: Mash my potato

YT: Julienne my carrots

Jess: Scramble my egg

Jess: That sounds dirty

YT: Poach my egg sounds worse

Jess: And poach my salmon even worse

YT: Agreed!

YT: Season my potroast

YT: Adobo my chicken

Jess: Fold my crepes

YT: Roast my chestnuts

Jess: Flip my pancakes

YT: Press my waffle

Jess: Core my apple

YT: Gently fold my flour, baking soda and sugar mixture

YT: We really need to keep a list of these

Jess: Totally

microchips here and there

So there's this new annoying chick who sits outside my office and she's on the phone constantly ironing out the niggly details of her life. Girlfriend's forever squabbling with her bank, credit card companies, landlord, etc. She bargain hunts and does some price comparisons over the phone, thanks people for their time and then frantically dials the next victim and goes through the same spiel all over again. She checks with her local bookstore frequently to see if the latest issue of some poetry magazine is in yet. Rest assured, by the sounds of things last night she was able to pick up a copy on her way home. I'm assuming this because she placed the phone down in the cradle with an ebullient, "Sweet!" This is a far cry from her rather violent hang-up last week upon which she bellowed, "Crooks!" Who the fuck says crooks nowadays? I mean, really.

All within earshot know her personal affairs... and we all hate her for it. She's new here and really has no business being so brash. Either simmer down, sweetie, or go into a conference room and the leave the rest of us to toil away in peace. Otherwise, the cold scowls and snarky IMs amongst your neighbors will continue. And I know you've noticed, toots.

A coworker and I have been skewering her daily. Once she lifts up the phone, we have an IM window at the ready to provide real-time commentary. On one of her recent calls, we threatened to copy down her credit card and social security numbers and make a mint off that information. Anyone need an identity?!?

I don't remember the origin of the comparison but we've also decided that she's a robot. Again, not sure what sparked it but we've been running with it ever since. I've even taken to calling her Vicki... even though her real name is Karen.

My mentioning the lead character in Small Wonder proved to be a welcome distraction from the real-life 'bot on a magazine hunt in our office. The coworker and I then partook in a rather lengthy -- and totally serious -- discussion about this dopey sitcom.

Now I'm not a philosophical person at all but certain topics do cause me to navel-gaze a wee bit. Like, didn't anyone notice that Vicki wore the same red-and-white dress EVERY day? And, hello, the girl didn't have a room of her own! Instead, she slept -- standing up! -- in a cabinet in her brother's room!! You mean to tell me nobody thought that was a bit inappropriate, not to mention cruel? And what about that voice? No one feared that her robotic monotone was maybe indicative of a larger developmental problem or something? Oh, come on now.

I found the apathy and ignorance particularly tough to digest considering the neighbor was played by Edie McClurg who really has built a cottage industry around playing busy-bodies, nosy hens and school administration officials ("They all think he's a righteous dude!") Edie and her ugly daughter did some sniffing around but it was half-assed at best. I call bullshit.

I realize how ridiculous I sound. But still, engaging in an earnest and in-depth discussion of a crappy, long-cancelled TV show is definitely preferable to listening to that ass munch outside my office searching high and low for a competitive APR.

the book challenge

Sheila requested I participate in this wee survey and I will happily oblige...

1. Total Number of Books I've Owned:
Dude, this is like asking me how many breaths I've taken in my lifetime. Too many to count. I was an avid customer of the Troll and Scholastic Book Clubs. Those alone send my number into the hundreds.

2. Last Book I Bought:
Um... I think it was a Barbie book for my niece in Times Square but for me, it was The Plot Against America by Philip Roth and Dry by Augusten Burroughs.

3. Last Book I Read:
Naked by David Sedaris

4. Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me:

Sylvester and the Magic Pebble by William Steig
This was my sister's book but I think I read it more than she did. Even at a young age, I was impressed with the gold seal on the book. I had no idea what a Caldecott Medal even was but to me, it looked fancy and that signified quality and lo and behold, I read the book repeatedly and adored it each and every time.

Corduroy by Don Freeman and The Elves and The Shoemaker by Jacob Grimm (tie)
Corduroy: I loved that wee bear. I remember loving the warm yet vibrant colors in the book. I thought he was so lucky to be trapped in a department store. I don't remember why exactly but my favorite part was when he rode the escalator. I think I liked seeing stuffed animals and dolls doing human things or something. I don't remember all of the details but whenever I think of this story, a feeling of warmth and comfort comes over me.

The Elves and The Shoemaker: I loved this book probably for the same reason I love before-and-after decorating shows today. I like to see progress being made and hard work rewarded. It's gratifying. In this story, the shoemaker and his wife were totally poor and hurting for business. The elves came in late one night when the shoemaker was asleep and made shoes, you know, just because. They did it secretly and didn't want credit for it. The shoemaker woke up the next day to find tons of pairs of beautiful shoes, which the public then went nuts over and soon the shoemaker and his wife were rolling in it. And then they figured out that the elves were the ones responsible so they made them some nice clothes to replace their existing ratty togs. And everyone was happy and taken care of. I always found it thoroughly satisfying.

Mandy and The Beano collections
These were separate hard-cover collections of British comic books. When I was little, my mother often had to go to Scotland to take care of my ailing Gran. When she'd return, she'd have a bag loaded with tablet (condensed milk and sugar hardened into a sweet, cavity-causing bar), Crunchies, Flakes and issue upon issue of Mandy and The Beano. I think the latter is still in print but I'm not sure that the publisher is aware that in America something sold under the same name supposedly prevents farts.

Blubber by Judy Blume
I read Freckle Juice and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing but Blubber was the first (but not the last) Judy Blume book to resonate with me. I actually still have the book and I keep it among my most treasured things. The cover has fallen off and the pages are totally yellow and dog-eared but I will not part with it.

As a side note, I went to Catholic grammar school and the only Judy Blume book allowed in the library, believe it or not, was Are You There God? It's Me Margaret. There's no way in hell that Sister Mary Ellen, the head librarian, ever read that book because if she had, she would have realized it wasn't all that religious what with the bust-increasing exercises and all that talk about periods. She made a very broad assumption based on that title, let me tell you. It should have tipped her off that the book, along with The Outsiders, was consistently checked out each week and scores of kids would be huddled around someone's desk reading it. It wasn't 'cause we were religious, Sister.

Anyways, the school library was holding an art contest one year. Participants were asked to select their favorite book and create a diorama depicting a favorite scene. Naturally, I chose Blubber and then busted out my art kit and got to work recreating the scene where Linda gives an oral report on whales and explains to the class what a flenser does. It was a pretty rocking diorama if I do say so myself. Later that week I went to the library to look at all of the projects and I was crushed to discover that mine was the only one not on display. Somehow Sister Mary Ellen deemed it inappropriate. Probably because it was my own book and not some Beverly Cleary job I checked out of her library. Apparently, her logic was as follows: Making fun of a fat kid and ultimately overcoming the pack mentality = forbidden. Frank discussion of periods by somewhat sex-positive preteen girls = hunky-dory. I mean, that sort of thing IS totally hunky-dory but that old nun's reasoning for banishing mine wasn't.

Mom, You're Fired by Nancy K. Robinson
In this story, Tina, the main character, was embarrassed by her eccentric hippie-dippy mother and totally developed the nonsexual hots for her friend's mother who was well-dressed and totally put together.

This book was in heavy rotation along with Blubber. It really struck a chord with me because my mother was a bit older than the mothers of most of my friends. She was also Scottish and therefore didn't engage in the same banter that most young, American moms did. At times, I'd make unfair comparisons between my mom and others but then, being the big old baby that I was, I'd go to a slumber party and within minutes, I'd miss my mother terribly. The young, American mothers in charge could never soothe me the way my mom could.

5. Tag five people and have them do this on their blog:
Like Sheila, I don't expect any of you to do it but if you feel so inclined, please take it away. If you're not on my list, don't let that stop you either!
1. Occasional Bitch
2. Lachlan (My So-Called Blog)
3. The Bees Knees
4. The Ubik
5. Filomena

poppin' a [re]cap in your asses

I had a rather eventful weekend. The highlight was, without a doubt, the New York Burlesque Festival. I attended Friday night's opening salvo and, my oh my, I had quite the time of it. I was positively dumbstruck by the amount of stunning, fashionable women twirling their pastie-clad boobies around.

Leading the charge was the illustrious Creamy Stevens, aka The Roommate of The Lovely Jess. Not only is she stunning, but she's got a killer act. J'adore Creamy Stevens. Go see her perform with Starshine Burlesque every Thursday night at Rififi. She and the entire troupe will not disappoint.

I took a few pictures of the festival. CAUTION: While there are no nips to be found, I do suggest using discretion before clicking on the link if you're at work.

Most of my Saturday was spent in Jersey. It was quite the contrast and come-down from Friday night's flesh fest but I'm getting some work done on mah teefs and needed to visit my dentist (two more visits and I'm done. RAWK!) Fortunately, his office is five minutes from my sister's so after having my choppers poked and prodded, I headed back to her house for some BS and a bout of ball-playing in the backyard with The Adorable Five-Year-Old Niece. I was hating life afterwards thanks to my allergies but the memory of that little girl's incessant and infectious giggle as we played keep-away was far more therapeutic than 10 mg of Loratadine.

Oh and I also taught her how to snap the tops off dandelions while singing, "Mama had a baby and its head popped off!" It's really important to hand down traditions to the next generation, you see.

The Younger Sister, she of the ill-timed keg stand, also stopped by on her way to a wedding "down the shore." We sat around drinking coffee, knoshing on bagels and discussing... the wonders of the Dyson vacuum cleaner. We're either a) getting old or b) at a loss for good conversation topics. But in true McDimple fashion, we made it interesting. Now, none of us are lucky enough to own one of those expensive bad boys but that did not stop us from cooing over its new roller-ball technology (that makes it easy to swivel around corners) and, of course, its superiority over its "hopelessly clogged" competitors. The McDimple Girls sweat the Dyson.

The Niece then approached me with a box of colored chalk and requested my presence outside to decorate the sidewalk. She was SO on. I excitedly followed her and we quickly filled the walk in front of her house with pictures and letters.

Playing with chalk is fun. When I was a nanny, I drew an elaborate construction scene on the path near the 79th Street Boat Basin. People stopped to watch me draw as my two charges encouraged me and offered suggestions. They and passers-by were thrilled with my rendering. I felt all cool and crap.

Whenever my niece asks me to participate in a creative activity, I jump at the chance. I love that she's able to express her imagination and energy through art. And I seize the opportunity when she shows interest because when she doesn't have a crayon in her hand, that creativity is sometimes expressed through mischief. Truthfully, it's kinda funny but she's becoming increasingly destructive the older and smarter she gets.

So outside we went with the chalk. I'm LOVING the fact that she's a budding artist. She takes amazing pictures with my camera and her drawings get better each time I see her. For example, on Saturday she drew a whale and it was really good! And then she drew another whale and made the eyes heart-shaped to signify that this whale was in love with the first one. The Younger Sister suggested she attach the words "Hubba Hubba" to firmly cement (if you'll pardon the pun) their attraction. I then had her draw two whales mouth-to-mouth and taught her the universal cartoon word to depict kissing: SMACK!

So, before long, the entire sidewalk was littered with pictures of humpbacks macking on each other. It was quite the scene. I'm pissed that I didn't have my camera with me as I'm sure pictures of soft-core whale porn would make my blog traffic soar. Actually, that sentence alone will no doubt do it.

outdoing myself

Yours Truly: When times go bad and you can't get enough, won't you lay me down in the tall grass and let me do my stuff?!?! Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam doot doot doot do!

YT: Sorry. Fleetwood Mac moment.

Jess: It's okay.

YT: "Second Hand News" KICKS my ass violently and then kills it and dumps it in the Passaic River

Jess: I am loving your exaggerated ass kicking-isms

YT: Why thank you. It's a new thing I'm working on

Later that day...

YT:Yours Truly: When I was looking for new songs to add to iTunes, I unearthed my X-Files soundtrack and it has "Walking After You" by the Foo Fighters on it. That is one of the.best.songs.ever. It paddles my bum as a tease and then unleashes a fiery torrent of lashes with a cat o' nine tails

Jess: Oh

Jess: my

Jess: God

my second worst nightmare

The US Air Guitar Championships are in town this weekend. I'll be staying far away from B.B. King's (the venue) as I'm not a fan of this "art form" you see. Well, I kinda stay far away from B.B. King's anyway but that's beside the point.

You know, in terms of gruesome fates, having to watch people earnestly play air guitar for hours on end is second only to being strapped down and force fed mayonnaise by a tag team comprised of Al Roker and The Hoff sporting his tightest salami squisher.

That's some cruel and unusual shit. In fact, this event needs to be put on Amnesty International's watch list, if you ask moi. Somebody make it stop.

motivation

I walked past a brownstone under construction on my way to work this morning. Massive early-morning renovations in Brooklyn Heights are not unusual. What did strike me as odd was the choice of music blaring out of the radio of the rather gruff-looking band of construction workers performing said renovation -- "Listen to Your Heart" by Roxette.

I guess nothing gets a hammer swinging faster than some lowbrow pop cheese. Hmmm... the next time I need some work done around my tiny wee studio, I'll be sure to crank up the T'pau to help light a fire under my super's ass.

my other talent

The Lovely Jess and Her Roommate held a White Trash Potluck in honor of last night's premiere of that craptastic Britney/Kevin joint otherwise known as Chaotic. Speaking of ill-advised Spederline collaborations, Jess is still still hosting the Name the Spederfetus contest. Check it out, y'all.

Last night's din din included mac n' cheese, pork chops marinated in ketchup and Coke, pigs in the blanket, fish sticks and Dorito Salad. I came equipped with a 40 (in truth, it was two 22s but close enough) and a dessert certain to cause diabetes or at the very least, several dozen cavities. Behold the Twinkie Sunflower Cake!

Ingredients:

:: 8 Twinkies (10 actually come in a box but The Roommate and I both scarfed one before dessert was served so I had to "pluck" some petals, if you will)

:: 1 Ring Ding

:: Yoo-Hoo Chocolate Syrup

:: Nestle Toll House Chocolate Chips

:: Hubba Bubba Sour Apple Bubble Tape Gum (this is where I strayed from the recipe and freestyled a bit. Nice touch, no?)

Feel free to add it to your personal recipe files, y'all!

sex smells

My cousin forwarded me the Tibetan Personality Test the other day. Now, I normally delete such forwards because I've seen most of them a thousand times over. I've done the whole ordering of cows, pigs and sheep several times already and if I'm to believe the results, I focus on money first and foremost in my life. Pardon moi but that's a load o' crap... Oh no wait... that's actually true. I hereby retract my sanctimony and will reuse it a later date.

Anyhoo, this test contained a question I hadn't seen before so I decided to give it a whirl. Here's the question that stood out:

Write one word that describes each one of the following:

Dog
Cat
Rat
Sea
Coffee

My answers:

Dog = friendly
Cat = sneaky
Rat = filthy
Sea = calm
Coffee = smell

Now here's the answer key:

Your description of dog implies your own personality.
My answer was "friendly" so SCORE for me! Anyone who disagrees can blow me.

Your description of cat implies the personality of your partner.
I don't have a partner. Jesus, is it any wonder since, according to this test, I'm totally paranoid and have trust issues?!?!

Your description of rat implies the personality of your enemies.
I don't have enemies. I mean, there are people I dislike but that doesn't stem from poor hygiene and grooming habits necessarily. Well, most of the time it doesn't. Bad fashion sense is most definitely a dealbreaker though.

Your description of the sea implies your own life.
I said calm. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! That's a good one.

Your description of coffee is how you interpret sex.
Oh Jesus Christ. I said smell. I... don't... I'm speechless. Perhaps this is also why I don't have a partner since I associate the sex with the stank. But then again, if I were to follow the logic of this test, I should equate my partner with a cat. And since I also equate cats with that awful litter box smell... well, there you have it. It makes total sense now.

Note to self: Bring a clothespin and some Vicks Vap-o-Rub on my next hot date.

the best laid plans

I had every intention of posting a weekend recap tonight. I knew I'd have stories to tell because the Adorable 5-Year-Old Niece spent the past two days with me. I was going to spin a yarn or two about our adventures in Central Park, my attempts to accommodate that bundle of energy in my tiny wee studio as well as my take on The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie (last night's activity) and a few other details, but I'm exhausted. I was bouncing back from last week's awful cold but I think I'm heading for a relapse. I'm not feeling well at all.

However, I can't blame my stuffed-up state totally on my cold because I just spent the past two hours sobbing -- and I do mean sobbing -- while watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. That show can usually soften my hardened heart long enough to make a tear or two trickle down my cheek but this particular episode... well, there was BAWLING!!!!!

In tonight's installment, a young woman died of leukemia and left behind a husband and three little boys. That formula always gets me choked up when watching made-for-TV movies and very-special episodes of sitcoms but this was the real deal and oh my God, I'm wiped out after watching it. There was a heartening outpouring of generosity by the community and the new house is gorgeous but I just feel so sad for the family. While all of that stuff helps, none of it can replace their tremendous loss.

Dude, I'm like inconsolable right now. Like I said, I usually well up while watching this show but tonight's was particularly hard on me. Perhaps it's the various decongestants and antihystamines coursing through me causing me to be all out of sorts. Or maybe I just needed a good cry.

Or maybe it's because I already miss my niece. Even though she spilled shit all over my tiny wee studio and wore my ass out, the place feels empty without her. I must schedule a follow-up sleepover soon.

But I can always console myself with the knowledge that my boyfriend, one Tino Martinez, clobbered the ball yet again! Today he slapped two big ones and has now tied A-Rod for the major-league lead with 12 homers. Swooooooooon!

There, I feel better already.

whuppin' ass

Wanna kick Beyonce's ass? Give Paris Hilton the beatdown she so richly deserves? You can work those two over and more at Celebrity girlFight. I'm undefeated so far. Lindsay Lohan was rather scrappy (I expected nothing less) but, surprisingly, J.Lo went down like a ton of bricks. I expected a good street fight with her. Turns out she's a total wuss.

Source: gossiplist.com

cashing in my sick days

Good evening, ladies and germs. Speaking of germs, I ain't feeling so hot. I'm not sure if it's allergies or a straight-up cold but I do know that I feel like crap on a stick. I'm taking a wee blog break but rest assured, I'll be back when I'm feeling a little less funky. I'm a bit green around the gills, you see...

But please feel free to roam about the cabin in the meantime. I've got lots o' good links on my Blogroll (right hand column... scroll down... a little more. There you go.) Or you might want to whittle away the time perusing ye olde archives (also on your right but with less scrolling).

Or you can always keep yourself occupied with my FAQ. Truthfully, it's a bit of a misnomer since none of youse guys ever frequently asked any of those questions. I mean, not even one time. But whatevs! I got a bit creative and made up a bunch on my own. Do feel free to send me a legitimate query. Keep in mind that I'm of British stock and reserve the right to tell you to sod off and get stuffed if your question is too cheeky.

Cheerio!
Curly

a simple request

Dear My Beloved Yankees,

Boys, allow me to reissue a plea I made to one Mike Mussina last season... Kindly stop sucking.

That is all.

Forever devoted yet slightly pissed,
Curly McDimple

the lost boy

Can we discuss Corey Haim for a second? Truthfully, I had all but forgotten about the boy but I read a rather fascinating interview with him in the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly and I need to get a few things off my chest.

Now, I loved him in Lucas (one of my all-time favorite movies, by the by) and thought he was just dandy in The Lost Boys [thou shaaaall not kiiiiiiiillllllll!]. But after those films (and the insufferable License to Drive), he quickly faded from my memory.

Even so, I always found him to be the more tolerable of the two Coreys. Actually, I have to say that I quite liked Corey Feldman in Gremlins, Stand by Me and The Goonies but then he went all Michael Jackson on us in the late 80s (long after the Thriller hysteria had died down, I might add). After that, I really had no use for him. And I feel totally vindicated based on his behavior on the first season of The Surreal Life. The dude's a nut.

But back to Corey Haim... I really did forget the guy existed. But now, thanks to this EW article, his memory has completely infested my psyche and won't soon go away:

Q&A with License to Drive star Corey Haim
The former teen star tells EW about his trademark smirk and staying in touch with Corey Feldman
by Mandi Bierly

The Special Edition of "the Coreys" comedy License to Drive gave EW an excuse to call up the ever-earnest 33-year-old "Haimster" in his native Toronto

In his commentary, director Greg Beeman describes you as at the peak of your power. What was your power?
I'm assuming he means my adlibbing. It's one of my special things that I feel maybe I was just born with. I can turn a "Hey, nice to see you" into "Hey, what's up? What's goin' down, man? Good to see you" and kind of make it more real.

He also refers to you as "one of the best-driving actors I've ever worked with."
I've always had a knack for hitting the mark perfectly. Even when I'm walking or running, I'm very good at not having to look down. And I've done everything, including snowboarding [in 1996's Snowboard Academy]. That was the hardest to hit my mark on.

In your interview, you express some regret over your slack jaw.
I had a bad problem. At the premiere, Cloris Leachman came up to me and said, "You know, that smirk you have is cute, but sometimes it looks a little fake." And I'm like, "Well, hey, that's my smile, you know. Thanks." And she was like, "Well, I would definitely do something about the opening of the mouth. You can practice closing it a little more." That comment really helped me.

Do you still do it?
[Yells] Ma, do I keep my mouth open still? [She answers no.]

When was Corey Haim at his best?
I would say Lucas. I'm not one of these actors who, like, get Method on ya. But for me to turn into a nerd, who is much smarter than he should be and has a different way of looking at life, it was the most Method. That and Silver Bullet, where I'm a paraplegic.

What's the biggest misconception about Coreys Haim and Feldman?
People are actually mistaking me for him. I'm not sayin' I'm any better than him. But I just don't see how it's possible: He's got very dark hair and he's very much an American. I'm blond and very much a Canadian. How can there be a question of who's who? But I'm sure it happens to a lot of people with the same name.

Will the Coreys work together again?
If we do another movie one day, I just hope there won't be any competition, because there will be none coming from me. I love the kid. To this day, if I call him, he'll be like, "Who's this?" And I'll be like, "Haimster." He's like, "What's up?" "What's up, Feldog?" It's all good.

Oh, where to begin? Several things jump out at me immediately:

1) Corey Haim's misguided notion that he possesses anything remotely resembling good improv skills

2) How sad is it when even Corey Fucking Feldman says, "Who's this?"

3) Corey Haim not only lives with his mother at age 33 but he needs her to verify that he's a big boy who's learned to close his mouth

4) Which brings me to the Cloris Leachman comment... I'm not sure telling someone to stop catching flies can or should actually be considered valuable acting advice. OMG, can you imagine if Corey Haim ever won an award? His acceptance speech might go a little something like this:

"And to Cloris Leachman... I can't say enough about her. The day she said to me, 'You there! Stop that peeing in those bushes! And leave your nose alone! What? Are you digging for gold?' Well, that was just a turning point. Cloris, that was so valuable and inspirational and I have only you to thank for this Cable ACE Award. You are my mentor and the next wedgie I pick (discreetly, of course) will be in your honor!"

Um, this is starting to get into crazy Peppermint Patty territory. On that note, good night everybody!

not so rosie review

So Rosie O'Donnell was on the telly last night in the positively dreadful Riding the Bus with my Sister. A big thank you to Sheila for reminding me to watch this monstrosity. Extra thanks for making me wheeze with your real-time recap.

I planned to write a review of the film but really, it left me quite speechless. So, since Rosie fancies herself a poet on her ridiculously stupid blog, I'll offer my thoughts in equally shitty fashion.

Dim the lights and make with the bongo playing, please...

Oh Rosie, Oh Rosie, Oh Rosie O
Last night's movie sucked major ass, yo

This project of yours with Ms. Andie McDowell
Caused quite the eruption deep down in my bowel

What on earth were you thinking, you big chubby dyke?
That this is the shit Emmy voters like?

In truth, your performance was crap and really quite dorky
For two whole hours I cringed and longed for sweet Corky

You shrieked and screamed and threw quite the fit
You think it's art and I think it's shit

Please go away and stopping making news
Might I suggest an Olivia Cruise?

Thank you.