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Tuesday, July 29, 2003
"crabapple bigotry loot timothy sobriquet"
That's the only text in a spam email I received today (it squeaked past SpamAssassin somehow). Something about it is kind of poetic.
Semi-related: Is there a program that spammers use to create huge lists of return address names? They're so weird. Scanning through my Caught Spam folder: Millicent Kerns, Alva Vigil, Elvira Moreno, Zelma McKee, Lamont Harmon, Blanca Darden, Carmela McKutcheon, Odessa Pelletier, Emmanuel Nguyen (that must be an interesting family tree), Isadora Sandoval. It's like someone tossed a Young & the Restless cast guide into the hopper with a copy of Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Vi*gra to produce this stuff.
Posted at 04:31 PM | Comments (1)
Saturday, July 26, 2003
boro6 + gawker type red alert, yo!
I rode home on the PATH train last night with Ky*n Dougl*s from Queer Eye. My blogless pal Laurel *did* tell me a few days ago that he used to live upstairs from her at the really rather metrosexually glamorous corner of Jersey & Newark Avenues on the cusp of the Historic Downtown Shopping District of Jersey City. But I figured he would have left our burg for greener pastures once, you know, his show was on TV following Friends. Maybe he's waiting to break his lease once the Nielsen ratings come in on Monday morning.
He was clad in whiskered jeans and flip flops (gasp, fag in jeans & flip-flops, alert the media), an inside-out t-shirt (?) & (double gasp) an extraordinarily passé trucker hat reading Von Dutch. He had an iPod clipped to his belt, clutched a Barneys bag and displayed his abnormally developed delts every time he bent over on the platform.
For those of you who have not had the "pleasure" of riding the PATH train, the platform at 9th Street is generally 20 to 25 degrees hotter than the cement-and-metal heat reflector that is lower manhattan. While most of the passengers last night were melting & dripping & generally wilting, Kyan, naturally, merely glowed and appeared slightly moist. The fucker.
Once we boarded, only one other fag on the train totally double-taked. Everyone else kept their noses in the Lovely goddamn Bones (it's not a very long book, people, and its been out for AGES. WILL YOU PLEASE FINISH IT ALREADY?).
I tried to follow the alphaqueer off the train once we got to Jersey City but he eluded my stalkage. Which is impressive since I like to think of myself as at LEAST a Diana-Rigg-Talented-Amateur status stalker. I think he slipped into a liquor store while I was casually lighting a cigarette on the traffic island, actually.
Don't worry, I'm on the case. I'll get him next time.
Posted at 11:13 AM | Comments (12)
Sunday, July 20, 2003
Padlocked!
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the club I work for was padlocked on Friday night during a show. That'll be fun tomorrow morning. Technically it's like a day off but I have so much damage control to do (from home, with no rolodex) that it's going to suck like one of those sick days where you spend 11 hours clutching the toilet bowl. Supposedly we'll be open again on Monday night but no one will even tell me what violation led to the closing (it was for something that happened last December apparently). Three cheers for Herr Bloomberg. Maybe I should finish updating my résumé. Rock on.
Posted at 10:39 PM | Comments (0)
Friday, July 18, 2003
Drawbridges
Someday I'll get around to taking photos of the gorgeous industrial wreckage between Jersey City & Newark along the PATH line. I never knew what those bridges were called before...
Posted at 04:17 PM | Comments (0)
As much as I hate being marketed at...
Oh who am I kidding? I LOVE BEING MARKETED AT! Where do I sign?
Also: Movie in which cute boy makes out with his iPod. Do with that what you will.
Posted at 12:04 PM | Comments (0)
Dead Like Me
Now that Buffy's gone, what will fill the void in our snarky, tv-loving hearts? Why, I think it'll be Dead Like Me! And more specifically, it'll be Callum Blue as Mason. Did I mention that he's English? They better not pull a Doyle with him or I will be most upset. Although... his character's already dead so maybe they can't kill him off!
Check it out if you have Showtime (um, does *anyone* have Showtime?). Or... a BitTorrent client. Not that I condone that sort of behavior. No sirree bob.
I have the first four episodes on... tape... so maybe I'll have a screening partay. You bring the booze. Whenever.
Posted at 10:51 AM | Comments (3)
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
Oh. Hey.
I kind of forgot about this thing. I guess I have a tendency to mentally blog things while walking around, but then I lose interest before I have a chance to jot them down. So anyway, here's another installment of 100 30-something More Things to Do When You're Not Blogging.
1. Try to grok many-to-many relationships in a Filemaker database by spending a whole day looking up the topic on Google. Get accused of group-orgy-sex-type-perversion by officemate. Leave early. Shop for shoes.
5. Watch some 14 year olds sing "Attack" by The Toys while an actual member of The Toys watches from the audience. Reflect on the nature of circularity, and the circularity of nature. Go outside and smoke a cigarette. Watch some dude in a toupee try to hit on a short, fat blond lady with the brilliant pickup line "Hey, are you Elie Greenwich?" Cackle, but only internally.
10. Giggly maniacally while shredding stuff in new Michael-Graves-for-Target shredder. Wonder about the people on Amazon who reviewed it and said it didn't shred things fast enough. Do they work for Enron?
12. Inexplicably find oneself in the pro-cucumber camp after thinking for several years that one was a card carrying anti-cuke.
13. Stare at the ".rtfd" files that OS X apps use as READ MEs and think it stands for "read the fucking document".
14. Watch Britney Spears eat two cheese plates in the outdoor cafe adjacent to one's place of business whilst wearing a hideous green corduroy hat.
15. Clarify that it was Britney wearing the hat and not you, the omniscient narrator type.
16. Don't answer the phone at work. Don't listen to the voicemail at work. Catch up every few days and notice that almost every single message is for RYAN in the BOOKKEEPER'S OFFICE (aka Not Me) and not BRIAN in the BOOKING OFFICE (aka Me).
19. Feel somewhat relieved that Ryan in the bookkeeper's office has quit his job to join the circus.
20. Feel a little saddened that Ryan in the bookkeeper's office has quit his job, because he's pretty damn cute and has really covetable shoes.
21. Tool around on Friendster like a dorky sheep. Look up all the cute boys around your age in your state, just for kicks. Notice that your boyfriend is doing the same thing. Furrow brow.
25. Say something pithy and kind of quotable in an AIM conversation. Notice that after several minutes pass, Laura Llew has stolen it to use in one of her posts. Thank heavens that it means you won't have to blog it yourself.
28. Get peeved at your favorite local cafe for closing on *every single holiday* and raising prices to the point where they're serving a lamb shank that costs as much as one at Babbo. Send telepathic vibes at cafe while walking past every evening on way home, to hopefully remind them that they are in JERSEY FUCKING CITY.
31. Go to the same cafe a few times anyway and eat lots of serrano ham & brie sandwiches. Get way overcaffeinated on iced coffees and smoke too many cigarettes.
34. Tool around on Friendster again. Find two of the neighborhood boys you like to stalk. Memorize their likes and dislikes in case it ever comes in handy. Snort.
38. Ogle Cillian Murphy's bits in 28 Days Later.
39. Start writing some stupid long blog entry thing. Spend several days fiddling with it (Sweaty, sweaty, gross days). Peter out around part #39. Post it anyway, before your blog traffic trails off to ZERO.
Anyway, I'm back. Swear. Going to see Laura Cantrell in Madison Square park tonight, or wherever the heck she's playing. More later. Maybe.
