I Love Mayor Bloomberg
And I don't care who knows it.
He's our own Daddy Warbucks.
He could've just spent his time & money being outrageously wealthy.
Instead he took on a horrible job at a particularly horrible time in NYC.
Instead of $195,000 a year, he takes only $1 a year in salary.
He speaks spanish, but as he sounds like a nasal NY Jew when he does, it's freakin' adorable.
He was responsible for sending me and thousands of other smokers free nicotine patches through the DOH.*
He was a lifelong Democrat who became a Republican to be elected and I love that funky non-partisan stuff.
Today he unveiled a NYC budget with a surplus.
I don't want to hear the surplus is mainly from Wall Street profits.
I heart Mayor Bloomberg.
*I'll admit he killed the bar business, which really sucks, but my hair smells nicer after a night out. Thanks Bloomie!
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Yesterday
Wow, yesterday's entry was so much more exciting than today's.
Don't believe me?
Yesterday I told you about a comedy show I'm doing tonight and where to find the hot new preview clip of the movie I'm going to be seen in.
Today I tell you I'm about to walk the dog before a business conference call.
Today I tell you I've had an orange, lots of instant coffee & cucumbers vinaigrette. The dressing bottle had to be run under hot water because my home made olive oil/garlic concoction had congealed. The cucumbers were old and their flesh was either too hard & white or too clear & squishy.
As I type half the cucumbers remain dressed and sitting in the bowl. The upside is my urge for Japanese take-out has passed. Actually, my urge to eat ever again has passed.
Yesterday all my troubles semed so far away.
Read yesterday's entry again & remember the good ol' days...
Or just remember where ol' cukey breath will be performing tonight.
Wow, yesterday's entry was so much more exciting than today's.
Don't believe me?
Yesterday I told you about a comedy show I'm doing tonight and where to find the hot new preview clip of the movie I'm going to be seen in.
Today I tell you I'm about to walk the dog before a business conference call.
Today I tell you I've had an orange, lots of instant coffee & cucumbers vinaigrette. The dressing bottle had to be run under hot water because my home made olive oil/garlic concoction had congealed. The cucumbers were old and their flesh was either too hard & white or too clear & squishy.
As I type half the cucumbers remain dressed and sitting in the bowl. The upside is my urge for Japanese take-out has passed. Actually, my urge to eat ever again has passed.
Yesterday all my troubles semed so far away.
Read yesterday's entry again & remember the good ol' days...
Or just remember where ol' cukey breath will be performing tonight.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
Holy Moly!
The website for the film I'm a gonna be in is up!
There's even a clip!
Even though I am not one of the stars by far, I'm in that there preview clip. Twice, if you look really really closely and catch those venetian blinds.
It's a Sullivan Brothers, Boy in the Drain, 19th Hole Entertainment production.
It's First Time Caller.
Fun. Without bias I can say that this film is going to be good.
But my acting? Well, hopefully I can't drag it down too much.
Excuse me, but I've got to go & be all nostalgic for my hot summer week when we were shooting in Melbourne, Florida.
The website for the film I'm a gonna be in is up!
There's even a clip!
Even though I am not one of the stars by far, I'm in that there preview clip. Twice, if you look really really closely and catch those venetian blinds.
It's a Sullivan Brothers, Boy in the Drain, 19th Hole Entertainment production.
It's First Time Caller.
Fun. Without bias I can say that this film is going to be good.
But my acting? Well, hopefully I can't drag it down too much.
Excuse me, but I've got to go & be all nostalgic for my hot summer week when we were shooting in Melbourne, Florida.
Comedy Tonight?
Nope, tomorrow.
I'll be performing with a slew of fab comedians in a casual & very dimly lit basement.
Come on down to:
Becky's B3 Comedy Lounge
33 Ave B at Third St.
Weds @ 8pm sharp
Take the f train to second Ave
$4 cover buys your first drink (rheingold, bud, wine, soda, or bottled water)
PS Karaoke begins @ 10:30, so start brushing up your Total Eclipse of the Heart, now.
Nope, tomorrow.
I'll be performing with a slew of fab comedians in a casual & very dimly lit basement.
Come on down to:
Becky's B3 Comedy Lounge
33 Ave B at Third St.
Weds @ 8pm sharp
Take the f train to second Ave
$4 cover buys your first drink (rheingold, bud, wine, soda, or bottled water)
PS Karaoke begins @ 10:30, so start brushing up your Total Eclipse of the Heart, now.
Monday, January 12, 2004
Snow Going
This Monday I'm up in the Catskills.
The virgin snow is being worn by the pines. They look like very ladylike octopodes, offering us their branches clad in white gloves.*
Save now, I'm hard at work. I've got comedy writing deadlines as well as a shiny new corporate copywriting gig. With all sincerity and little modesty, hooray and hoorah for me! I love being as busy and employed as possible. The more work I do, the more I'm able to get done. It's very much like exercising a muscle and comes with the high of accomplishment, if not the endorphins.
I am trying to write a particularly sticky tricky bit. It comes in fits and starts. Suddenly, I hear a woodpecker going to town on a dead tree.
"tat tat tat tat."
It's so charming I could faint. A woodpecker! Right outside my window!
"Rata tattattattattattat..."
...Followed by snow blanketed silence.
"Rata tat...tat...tattattat.....................................tat."
It sounds like he's mocking my typing.
"Rata..."
He's stopped. Why? Whatever. He's finally stopp --
"Rata. Rat. Rat. Rata. Rat. Rat."
Sounds like he's tuning up, with an avian Me May Mah Mo Moo.
"Rata TATTATTATTATTATTATTATTATTAT. RATTATATTATTAT!"
Nature is beautiful -
"Tatta ATTICA ATTICA ATTICA!"
But I'm starting to think it should be seen and not heard.
"Rata TATTAT...TAT...tat?"
I want to ring the neck of my little feathered foe until his eyes bug out & his crown is red for an entirely different reason.
"Rat...ah... Oh, almost spaced, got a 4 o'clock with Woody and his people. TAT, er, I mean, ta ta, darling!"
*Octopodes? Well saying "octopuses" makes me feel like an octo-pussy, and not the cool James Bond kind at that.
This Monday I'm up in the Catskills.
The virgin snow is being worn by the pines. They look like very ladylike octopodes, offering us their branches clad in white gloves.*
Save now, I'm hard at work. I've got comedy writing deadlines as well as a shiny new corporate copywriting gig. With all sincerity and little modesty, hooray and hoorah for me! I love being as busy and employed as possible. The more work I do, the more I'm able to get done. It's very much like exercising a muscle and comes with the high of accomplishment, if not the endorphins.
I am trying to write a particularly sticky tricky bit. It comes in fits and starts. Suddenly, I hear a woodpecker going to town on a dead tree.
"tat tat tat tat."
It's so charming I could faint. A woodpecker! Right outside my window!
"Rata tattattattattattat..."
...Followed by snow blanketed silence.
"Rata tat...tat...tattattat.....................................tat."
It sounds like he's mocking my typing.
"Rata..."
He's stopped. Why? Whatever. He's finally stopp --
"Rata. Rat. Rat. Rata. Rat. Rat."
Sounds like he's tuning up, with an avian Me May Mah Mo Moo.
"Rata TATTATTATTATTATTATTATTATTAT. RATTATATTATTAT!"
Nature is beautiful -
"Tatta ATTICA ATTICA ATTICA!"
But I'm starting to think it should be seen and not heard.
"Rata TATTAT...TAT...tat?"
I want to ring the neck of my little feathered foe until his eyes bug out & his crown is red for an entirely different reason.
"Rat...ah... Oh, almost spaced, got a 4 o'clock with Woody and his people. TAT, er, I mean, ta ta, darling!"
*Octopodes? Well saying "octopuses" makes me feel like an octo-pussy, and not the cool James Bond kind at that.
Friday, January 09, 2004
Won't You Be My Voter?
According to today's NY Times Clark recently shed his suit and donned a sweater to appeal to women.
Do women like his new look?
Yeah, they adore it... if they haven't come anywhere near hitting puberty.
Hi Voter!
According to today's NY Times Clark recently shed his suit and donned a sweater to appeal to women.
Do women like his new look?
Yeah, they adore it... if they haven't come anywhere near hitting puberty.
Hi Voter!
Thursday, January 08, 2004
Get Back to Where you Once Belonged
Mr. Tremble himself clued me into this anti-Dean ad called Back To Vermont.
The ad contains 11 insults hurled by 2 very old very white people. This should help the Republican image as way too many people think of Repulicans as young, hip and inclusive. Only 2 insults in the ad can be called policy-related and they get no more weight than the other barbs. The rest are a series of supposedly bad elements attributed to Dean that the country shouldn't be hoodwinked by. Below I've listed the 9 non-political insults made political and how I stack up.
As we go, why not play along and see how many ugly Dean qualities you have? At the end, we can compare totals. Fun!
Latte drinking
Check!
When I'm feeling flush. They go for 60 dollars a pound in my neighborhood. Still that's probably because most good-looking youngish laptop-toting cafe drones deduct their latte as office rent.
Sushi Eating
Check!
Sake to me & Maki mine a double! I had a cool Japanese sister-in-law. Faking not going to vomit + something called Chu sours gave me bravery and an addiction to the stuff. I ate and adored sushi for years before I'd even touch a smat of cooked fish.
Volvo Driving
Check!
A 1972 Volvo was my first car. I wanted a VW Bug so badly. I looked and looked with my parents and saw and saw a bazillion mini rust buckets. My parents had generously agreed to match any contribution I worked and saved up for. Perhaps this was because unlike my brother, 4 years down the line they didn't have a smoking hot sexy car* sitting right in the drive to give me absolutely free. So sure, I worked the guilt angle.
With my less than 1000 bucks saved up and burning a hole in my pocket I hadn't given up the dream of a VW Bug. So when asked to look at this tank-sized monstrosity of a Volvo I was none too happy. As a teenage surl (and girl) I hated that I had to be polite because the Long Island mechanic who owned the thing was from a nice foreign family my father had treated.
I went to see the car silently fuming at my father for subjecting me to looking at a big, fat loser mobile and forcing me to go through a fruitless charade. "A Volvo!" I thought, "That's what those 30-something "Baby on Board" yenta a-holes drive." "And this one is how old?" With my internal snarl turned all the way up, I got behind the wheel and instantly fell helplessly and truly in love for the first time. It was like Fozzie Bear's car in the Muppet Movie, but with the added glamour of Miss Piggy.
It had a lovely curved front, not unlike an old Mercedes. I love a car with cleavage. Oh it looked like this and this!
It had a lot of miles on it when I bought it because the mechanic said he often drove it to go skiing in Vermont (Vermont!). When I got it there were exactly 119,863 miles on it. Of that I'm sure, because once I bought it, I noticed the odometer never once moved. I joked one too many times that it got, "No miles to a gallon." My precious drove us to high school and later up and down to college in Vermont (Vermont!) and almost never faltered. It merely complained loudly when as a 17-year-old, I didn't know you had to give a car oil and it plum ran out.
Years later I sold it to another mechanic, my man in Vermont (indeed!). He looked a lot like the cuddly main troll in LOTR, dubbed it "pre-classic" and for years I'd get reports from friends who lingered in Vermont of him being seen driving my metallic sand colored beaut to the dog races. I sold it only because I was poor after college, too poor to afford the repairs she started to need. Baby, if you're out there still, maybe waiting for your owner at the track, I'm sorry. At the time I was scared of the commitment. I'll take you back, I'll pay your insurance, I... I'm wiser now in the ways of caring for a car. I now own a chamois cloth and I know how to use it. Didn't we have good times? Oh Baby I miss you.
NY Times Reading
Guilty as Charged!
Damn, this reminds me I totally forgot to give the delivery dude a holiday tip. Thank you hate ad!
Body Piercing
No.
Not even pierced ears. It might be because my family has a tendency to develop cysts. More likely however I'm too lazy. Plus my burning desire for a nose stud in the late 80's and early 90's faded when others, who I deemed uncool, beat me to the punch hole.
Hollywood Loving
Yup.
Left Wing
Yup.
Yet for some reason a certain family member of mine tells people she knows I'm going to vote for Bush. It's probably because we don't agree on certain war-related issues. Still, it's great to have a debate with someone who recently proved they had no clue who Tarik Aziz was.
Freak Show
Yes
My life and career, welcome to it.
Back to Vermont
I'd be delighted!
Home of my sometimes scary never boring freak show Alma Mater -- where Jojo was often a man who thought he was a woman -- and Bernie, the first Independent elected to congress in 40 years. Vermont is a beautiful state & the place I might very well live now if my Hollywood-loving career permitted.
My Score: 8 out of a possible 9!
Wow! Who knew? Maybe this Dean dude is the candidate for me!
Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I'm an East Coast Jew.
I'd bet my boots the first draft of the ad was called "Back to Israel."
*My brother might try to convince you his first and free smoking hot car was less than perfect. Not true! Sure, it literally was smoking a good deal, but it was cool. It was a sporty** long 2-door number that even had faux leather on the outside -- and it was FREE! It even drove, sometimes.
**"Sporty" here being defined as pimps cruising for business.
Mr. Tremble himself clued me into this anti-Dean ad called Back To Vermont.
The ad contains 11 insults hurled by 2 very old very white people. This should help the Republican image as way too many people think of Repulicans as young, hip and inclusive. Only 2 insults in the ad can be called policy-related and they get no more weight than the other barbs. The rest are a series of supposedly bad elements attributed to Dean that the country shouldn't be hoodwinked by. Below I've listed the 9 non-political insults made political and how I stack up.
As we go, why not play along and see how many ugly Dean qualities you have? At the end, we can compare totals. Fun!
Latte drinking
Check!
When I'm feeling flush. They go for 60 dollars a pound in my neighborhood. Still that's probably because most good-looking youngish laptop-toting cafe drones deduct their latte as office rent.
Sushi Eating
Check!
Sake to me & Maki mine a double! I had a cool Japanese sister-in-law. Faking not going to vomit + something called Chu sours gave me bravery and an addiction to the stuff. I ate and adored sushi for years before I'd even touch a smat of cooked fish.
Volvo Driving
Check!
A 1972 Volvo was my first car. I wanted a VW Bug so badly. I looked and looked with my parents and saw and saw a bazillion mini rust buckets. My parents had generously agreed to match any contribution I worked and saved up for. Perhaps this was because unlike my brother, 4 years down the line they didn't have a smoking hot sexy car* sitting right in the drive to give me absolutely free. So sure, I worked the guilt angle.
With my less than 1000 bucks saved up and burning a hole in my pocket I hadn't given up the dream of a VW Bug. So when asked to look at this tank-sized monstrosity of a Volvo I was none too happy. As a teenage surl (and girl) I hated that I had to be polite because the Long Island mechanic who owned the thing was from a nice foreign family my father had treated.
I went to see the car silently fuming at my father for subjecting me to looking at a big, fat loser mobile and forcing me to go through a fruitless charade. "A Volvo!" I thought, "That's what those 30-something "Baby on Board" yenta a-holes drive." "And this one is how old?" With my internal snarl turned all the way up, I got behind the wheel and instantly fell helplessly and truly in love for the first time. It was like Fozzie Bear's car in the Muppet Movie, but with the added glamour of Miss Piggy.
It had a lovely curved front, not unlike an old Mercedes. I love a car with cleavage. Oh it looked like this and this!
It had a lot of miles on it when I bought it because the mechanic said he often drove it to go skiing in Vermont (Vermont!). When I got it there were exactly 119,863 miles on it. Of that I'm sure, because once I bought it, I noticed the odometer never once moved. I joked one too many times that it got, "No miles to a gallon." My precious drove us to high school and later up and down to college in Vermont (Vermont!) and almost never faltered. It merely complained loudly when as a 17-year-old, I didn't know you had to give a car oil and it plum ran out.
Years later I sold it to another mechanic, my man in Vermont (indeed!). He looked a lot like the cuddly main troll in LOTR, dubbed it "pre-classic" and for years I'd get reports from friends who lingered in Vermont of him being seen driving my metallic sand colored beaut to the dog races. I sold it only because I was poor after college, too poor to afford the repairs she started to need. Baby, if you're out there still, maybe waiting for your owner at the track, I'm sorry. At the time I was scared of the commitment. I'll take you back, I'll pay your insurance, I... I'm wiser now in the ways of caring for a car. I now own a chamois cloth and I know how to use it. Didn't we have good times? Oh Baby I miss you.
NY Times Reading
Guilty as Charged!
Damn, this reminds me I totally forgot to give the delivery dude a holiday tip. Thank you hate ad!
Body Piercing
No.
Not even pierced ears. It might be because my family has a tendency to develop cysts. More likely however I'm too lazy. Plus my burning desire for a nose stud in the late 80's and early 90's faded when others, who I deemed uncool, beat me to the punch hole.
Hollywood Loving
Yup.
Left Wing
Yup.
Yet for some reason a certain family member of mine tells people she knows I'm going to vote for Bush. It's probably because we don't agree on certain war-related issues. Still, it's great to have a debate with someone who recently proved they had no clue who Tarik Aziz was.
Freak Show
Yes
My life and career, welcome to it.
Back to Vermont
I'd be delighted!
Home of my sometimes scary never boring freak show Alma Mater -- where Jojo was often a man who thought he was a woman -- and Bernie, the first Independent elected to congress in 40 years. Vermont is a beautiful state & the place I might very well live now if my Hollywood-loving career permitted.
My Score: 8 out of a possible 9!
Wow! Who knew? Maybe this Dean dude is the candidate for me!
Or maybe, just maybe, it's because I'm an East Coast Jew.
I'd bet my boots the first draft of the ad was called "Back to Israel."
*My brother might try to convince you his first and free smoking hot car was less than perfect. Not true! Sure, it literally was smoking a good deal, but it was cool. It was a sporty** long 2-door number that even had faux leather on the outside -- and it was FREE! It even drove, sometimes.
**"Sporty" here being defined as pimps cruising for business.
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Dirty Mind
I'm no designer, but shouldn't Earthlink's Parental Controls icon have a diagonal red line through it?
I'm no designer, but shouldn't Earthlink's Parental Controls icon have a diagonal red line through it?
Winter Wonder Why Land
NY1 shows it's 25 degrees.
The wind is howling down the alley,
like a pissed off pit bull,
a dog some people want to rename the New Yorkie.
I shudder at the thought.
NY1 shows it's 25 degrees.
The wind is howling down the alley,
like a pissed off pit bull,
a dog some people want to rename the New Yorkie.
I shudder at the thought.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Looking for Trouble
I'm strutting around town in an ultra long, black quilted parka. Yeah I thought I was pretty smart until I saw every other woman in NYC has one. Now when I see one I imagine we all had a one night stand with Dracula. When we sobered up and saw the bite marks we went running out of his loft wearing nothing but his comforter.
Hence forth and from now on and from here on in I proclaim that our long black quilty down coats be dubbed a "Vampire's Duvet."
As in, "Hey, I adore your Vampire's duvet!"
Sure, "Dracula's Duvet" has the alliteration, but is less workable for common street encounters.
Also today I was feeling very smart in my pink hat, until I saw the subway car I entered had two others seated with similar toppers. Suddenly I knew why it was called the F train.
One was a puffy, grumpy Hungarian-looking chick in a pink knit number and the other was a ragged looking suspected tranny wearing a fuzzy pink cloche that was almost identical to mine. The suspected tranny was attempting to eat a huge but frozen solid slushie. He/She entertained us by lifting the bright yellow iceburg a good ways out of its plastic cup and gnawing at it before it slipped back with a clunk. I knew this ride was not good PR for the pink hat wearer's of the world. The ride down to W4th was a real head trip.
Oh ha ha! I am so heelarious! Oh ho and ha ha! Ha! Hoo ha ho!
Ha! Ha? Huh?
Oh.
Well in any case, from now on us serious looking NY'ers wearing pink cloche hats will be referred to as "Inspector Gidget."
I'm taking one final stab at being unique by wearing braids. But if I see another overaged woman wearing adorable fey little plaits to disguise the fact that she too hasn't showered -- I'm going to lash out.
There's no doubt today will be totally hit or Swiss Miss.
PS Though my personal cutting edge is a bit dull, I can dish it as well as take it (as long as I'm dishing it, of course). Next week you can catch me once again contributing my outrageous barbs of hilarity in US Weekly magazine's Fashion Police.
I'm strutting around town in an ultra long, black quilted parka. Yeah I thought I was pretty smart until I saw every other woman in NYC has one. Now when I see one I imagine we all had a one night stand with Dracula. When we sobered up and saw the bite marks we went running out of his loft wearing nothing but his comforter.
Hence forth and from now on and from here on in I proclaim that our long black quilty down coats be dubbed a "Vampire's Duvet."
As in, "Hey, I adore your Vampire's duvet!"
Sure, "Dracula's Duvet" has the alliteration, but is less workable for common street encounters.
Also today I was feeling very smart in my pink hat, until I saw the subway car I entered had two others seated with similar toppers. Suddenly I knew why it was called the F train.
One was a puffy, grumpy Hungarian-looking chick in a pink knit number and the other was a ragged looking suspected tranny wearing a fuzzy pink cloche that was almost identical to mine. The suspected tranny was attempting to eat a huge but frozen solid slushie. He/She entertained us by lifting the bright yellow iceburg a good ways out of its plastic cup and gnawing at it before it slipped back with a clunk. I knew this ride was not good PR for the pink hat wearer's of the world. The ride down to W4th was a real head trip.
Oh ha ha! I am so heelarious! Oh ho and ha ha! Ha! Hoo ha ho!
Ha! Ha? Huh?
Oh.
Well in any case, from now on us serious looking NY'ers wearing pink cloche hats will be referred to as "Inspector Gidget."
I'm taking one final stab at being unique by wearing braids. But if I see another overaged woman wearing adorable fey little plaits to disguise the fact that she too hasn't showered -- I'm going to lash out.
There's no doubt today will be totally hit or Swiss Miss.
PS Though my personal cutting edge is a bit dull, I can dish it as well as take it (as long as I'm dishing it, of course). Next week you can catch me once again contributing my outrageous barbs of hilarity in US Weekly magazine's Fashion Police.
Monday, January 05, 2004
Enjoying my Bottom
For Hanukmas I was given the 3 DVD set of Bottom.
It is among the funniest TV comedy to be had. Like Ab Fab, it inspires and intimidates me. Bottom is clever scripts cleverly disguised with knock down drag out physical comedy genius. How funny is Bottom? So funny I just about bled out my eyes and had milk spew from my rotator cuff.
It's a British show more than a decade old but it is timeless and hardly known on these shores. Get to know Rik Mayall and Adrian Edmondson's wonderfully disgusting duo by getting yourself a copy or five of Bottom - Not Another Half-Arsed DVD Set.
For Hanukmas I was given the 3 DVD set of Bottom.
It is among the funniest TV comedy to be had. Like Ab Fab, it inspires and intimidates me. Bottom is clever scripts cleverly disguised with knock down drag out physical comedy genius. How funny is Bottom? So funny I just about bled out my eyes and had milk spew from my rotator cuff.
It's a British show more than a decade old but it is timeless and hardly known on these shores. Get to know Rik Mayall and Adrian Edmondson's wonderfully disgusting duo by getting yourself a copy or five of Bottom - Not Another Half-Arsed DVD Set.
Thursday, January 01, 2004
A Very Bob Shea Christmas
Now with super secret link!
Since I see people are searching for it, I give you part the third of Bob Shea's stop action puppet adventures, voiced by my Ed.
It's a short Christmas special and was personalized for Bob's clients and friends.
Don't let the fact that this one was made for us get in the way of your 7th day of Christmas enjoyment.
Wishing you and yours a Perfectly Nice X-mas.
Now with super secret link!
Since I see people are searching for it, I give you part the third of Bob Shea's stop action puppet adventures, voiced by my Ed.
It's a short Christmas special and was personalized for Bob's clients and friends.
Don't let the fact that this one was made for us get in the way of your 7th day of Christmas enjoyment.
Wishing you and yours a Perfectly Nice X-mas.
Monday, December 29, 2003
How to do Drugs with your Dog
You can leave your dark glasses and cane at home because the Rite Aid on the corner of Hudson & Charles allows dogs. Business here is always booming and barking* because most drug stores in NYC won't let a pooch in unless they are carried.
In this Rite Aid around every corner you see a flash of tail, in every aisle you hear the clean click of 16 nails on linoleum and waiting on line you can zone out as the standard poodle sits and ponders the weird little bat faced dog in front of you.
Tonight Stan and I picked up a prescription, conditioner, toothpaste -- and a lamb infused rawhide, just to show my love and allegiance to both Stan and Rite Aid.
It should be said, so I will, that the Grove street pharmacy on Grove and 7th also allows dogs. The Grove street pharmacy is tiny, very friendly and carries to die for upscale skin stuff like Ahava.
Grove street pharmacy does lack some of the finer things in life that Rite Aid boasts; the miles of discounted canned broth, the oaty goodness of half-price breakfast cereals and the aforementioned rawhides. But if you can afford the down payment required for a jar of Ahava moisturizer, you are no stranger to high maintenance charges and will certainly enjoy TGSP, as no one calls it. I am but a West Village peasant and admire the simple charms of Rite Aid.
Oh Rite Aid on Hudson, of thee I sing!
*See how right there I sounded like a bad Zagat's entry? Best grab the leash and see if Rite Aid has a cream for that.
You can leave your dark glasses and cane at home because the Rite Aid on the corner of Hudson & Charles allows dogs. Business here is always booming and barking* because most drug stores in NYC won't let a pooch in unless they are carried.
In this Rite Aid around every corner you see a flash of tail, in every aisle you hear the clean click of 16 nails on linoleum and waiting on line you can zone out as the standard poodle sits and ponders the weird little bat faced dog in front of you.
Tonight Stan and I picked up a prescription, conditioner, toothpaste -- and a lamb infused rawhide, just to show my love and allegiance to both Stan and Rite Aid.
It should be said, so I will, that the Grove street pharmacy on Grove and 7th also allows dogs. The Grove street pharmacy is tiny, very friendly and carries to die for upscale skin stuff like Ahava.
Grove street pharmacy does lack some of the finer things in life that Rite Aid boasts; the miles of discounted canned broth, the oaty goodness of half-price breakfast cereals and the aforementioned rawhides. But if you can afford the down payment required for a jar of Ahava moisturizer, you are no stranger to high maintenance charges and will certainly enjoy TGSP, as no one calls it. I am but a West Village peasant and admire the simple charms of Rite Aid.
Oh Rite Aid on Hudson, of thee I sing!
*See how right there I sounded like a bad Zagat's entry? Best grab the leash and see if Rite Aid has a cream for that.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Flu and far between
I personally know of only two people who have gotten the flu. One is a comedy writer and good friend. The other is a Swiss pianist who lives next door with her guitarist boyfriend and two aged mutts. I suspect the comedy writer only has the sniffles and is crying flu, but maybe that's wishful yet uncharitable thinking.
But I am completely afraid of slipping into the clutches of the seemingly inevitable flu.
I even have the buds of symptoms. Achey neck, slightly rough throat, and all I want to do is sleep. Am I coming down with the flu or did I have a late night last night?
I don't need a doctor to tell me. I watch way too much CNN.
I personally know of only two people who have gotten the flu. One is a comedy writer and good friend. The other is a Swiss pianist who lives next door with her guitarist boyfriend and two aged mutts. I suspect the comedy writer only has the sniffles and is crying flu, but maybe that's wishful yet uncharitable thinking.
But I am completely afraid of slipping into the clutches of the seemingly inevitable flu.
I even have the buds of symptoms. Achey neck, slightly rough throat, and all I want to do is sleep. Am I coming down with the flu or did I have a late night last night?
I don't need a doctor to tell me. I watch way too much CNN.
Friday, December 12, 2003
Untitled #476
Last night the MTV party was pretty uneventful. I danced on top of some light up platform that probably wasn't intended for dancing. I used chopsticks to eat cooked sushi and mushroom tortellini that tasted as if it was filled with sweet potato.
It was so very crowded. It was loud with decent music and there were three shadow dancers that my branded ass could only think of as a live iPod commercial.
I ran into lots of good people I knew among the throngs, and we screamed in each others ears to catch up. Because everything had to be screamed, people got to the point quickly.
"YOU LOOK GREAT"
"I LOST 40 POUNDS. WORK OUT 5 TIMES A WEEK. FEEL THIS. I HAVE NO ASS."
I went to the bathroom and ran into a comedian I love who happened to be working with catering. As we chatted two headphone decked women dressed in black frantically radioed for a female EMT. Jen said, "Someone's drunk." I did a sweep of my eyes to see what stall contained the PA on a bender, but no luck.
That's when Jen told me some guy had fallen earlier from the balcony. "How did I miss it", I thought. "Did he live?" is what I asked. She said he was so drunk he probably didn't feel a thing as he was on his cell phone telling someone about it as he was carried away on a stretcher.
All this and I left before 11PM.
Waiting for the subway, I find I'm on the wrong platform and I book light speed to the local track. There are four cops chatting. Two very fat and in uniform and two chunky but cute undercover cops. The undercover cops are relating how they were with Bloomberg on a subway journey. They speak of the secret service that were also there. One fat cop says awestruck, "I've seen those guys, they have their shit together." They go on about the secret service the way actresses I know go on about Emma Thompson, or comedians I know go on about Andres du Bouchet.
Then they get to talking about the Republican convention, and what a mess it'll be. Protesters coming out of the woodwork... from Seattle, even. Still, one cop points out how great the money will be, what with all that overtime they'll make. They agreed and this threatened to end the conversation.
One of the undercover cops looks worried. He says very ominously, "Oh but you know it'll be nasty."
What? My hackles went up. Will there be rubber bullets? Horses trampling people? Tear gas? I have great respect for the NYPD, but any hint of planned nastiness and I was ready to send Susan Sarandon packing for a trip to City Hall.
"You know those people. They won't have washed in days. They are going to smell. They are going to smell really really bad. And you know we're the ones who are going to hafta pick 'em up."
At that point I couldn't help but laugh. The undercover guy said, "It's OK, you can laugh. But it's true."
It was so cute.
The RNC at Madison Square Garden: smelly hippies vs. budget busting overtime pay. Tickets are on sale now!
Last night the MTV party was pretty uneventful. I danced on top of some light up platform that probably wasn't intended for dancing. I used chopsticks to eat cooked sushi and mushroom tortellini that tasted as if it was filled with sweet potato.
It was so very crowded. It was loud with decent music and there were three shadow dancers that my branded ass could only think of as a live iPod commercial.
I ran into lots of good people I knew among the throngs, and we screamed in each others ears to catch up. Because everything had to be screamed, people got to the point quickly.
"YOU LOOK GREAT"
"I LOST 40 POUNDS. WORK OUT 5 TIMES A WEEK. FEEL THIS. I HAVE NO ASS."
I went to the bathroom and ran into a comedian I love who happened to be working with catering. As we chatted two headphone decked women dressed in black frantically radioed for a female EMT. Jen said, "Someone's drunk." I did a sweep of my eyes to see what stall contained the PA on a bender, but no luck.
That's when Jen told me some guy had fallen earlier from the balcony. "How did I miss it", I thought. "Did he live?" is what I asked. She said he was so drunk he probably didn't feel a thing as he was on his cell phone telling someone about it as he was carried away on a stretcher.
All this and I left before 11PM.
Waiting for the subway, I find I'm on the wrong platform and I book light speed to the local track. There are four cops chatting. Two very fat and in uniform and two chunky but cute undercover cops. The undercover cops are relating how they were with Bloomberg on a subway journey. They speak of the secret service that were also there. One fat cop says awestruck, "I've seen those guys, they have their shit together." They go on about the secret service the way actresses I know go on about Emma Thompson, or comedians I know go on about Andres du Bouchet.
Then they get to talking about the Republican convention, and what a mess it'll be. Protesters coming out of the woodwork... from Seattle, even. Still, one cop points out how great the money will be, what with all that overtime they'll make. They agreed and this threatened to end the conversation.
One of the undercover cops looks worried. He says very ominously, "Oh but you know it'll be nasty."
What? My hackles went up. Will there be rubber bullets? Horses trampling people? Tear gas? I have great respect for the NYPD, but any hint of planned nastiness and I was ready to send Susan Sarandon packing for a trip to City Hall.
"You know those people. They won't have washed in days. They are going to smell. They are going to smell really really bad. And you know we're the ones who are going to hafta pick 'em up."
At that point I couldn't help but laugh. The undercover guy said, "It's OK, you can laugh. But it's true."
It was so cute.
The RNC at Madison Square Garden: smelly hippies vs. budget busting overtime pay. Tickets are on sale now!
Thursday, December 11, 2003
My sweet patootie is off to the MTV Networks holiday party tonight. Now that Comedy Central has been completely assimilated into the Borg, they can no longer have their own holiday party.
Someone just told me there are going to be upwards of 5,000 people there. Since I work from home, I'm going alone. What if I don't run into anyone I know? I'll be stuck in a corner by the punch bowl quietly ripping apart people's fashion choices with P. Diddy, that's what.
Same old, same old.
Someone just told me there are going to be upwards of 5,000 people there. Since I work from home, I'm going alone. What if I don't run into anyone I know? I'll be stuck in a corner by the punch bowl quietly ripping apart people's fashion choices with P. Diddy, that's what.
Same old, same old.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
Felber Tonight
What: SPLIT ENDS – an all female sketch comedy show.
Who: The Ladies of the Brothel, MEAT, guest comics Jessi Klein and Ohira Eisenberg, hosted by Susie Felber <--- that's me chickadees.
When: Tuesday night, Dec. 9th, 7:30 show
Where: The PIT theater – 154 W. 29th Street, between 6th and 7th avenues.
Why: Why not.
All tix $8
Reservations: 212-229-2726
More info on: www.thebrothelnyc.com
What: SPLIT ENDS – an all female sketch comedy show.
Who: The Ladies of the Brothel, MEAT, guest comics Jessi Klein and Ohira Eisenberg, hosted by Susie Felber <--- that's me chickadees.
When: Tuesday night, Dec. 9th, 7:30 show
Where: The PIT theater – 154 W. 29th Street, between 6th and 7th avenues.
Why: Why not.
All tix $8
Reservations: 212-229-2726
More info on: www.thebrothelnyc.com
Friday, December 05, 2003
Felber Spreads Message of Hate
A few weeks ago I sent a wonderful woman named Naomi a baby shower gift from her internet registry. The day I put in the order, I happened to visit another friend I haven't seen since she fell into the baby vortex. a.k.a. Park Slope, Brooklyn.
There hanging in her son's crib I spied the very toy I had selected a few hours before, The Fisher-Price Ocean Wonders Aquarium.
Wow! I ask Alyssa about it and she says her son loves the toy, always has, it's incredible. She says all her baby laden friends agree it's a must-have. She tells me the thing plays sounds, the fish waggle, light up and... I need to take her word for it. For as I try to take it for a spin she tells me the batteries are currently dead, further proving how much her son loves it.
Excellent, I think. I am the best present giver ever. I don't know much about babies, but I obviously have an intuitive sense about these things. I really should be a personal shopper or a...
"But you know there's something odd," Alyssa says, "I was reading reviews of the toy on some baby site message board. Some parents claim there's a voice under the ocean sounds that clearly says, 'I hate you' to the baby."
What?
Yes. Apparently this toy aquarium delivers subliminal messages of hate. Amid the controversy, Wal-Mart has pulled it from their shelves. A parent in the article even theorizes this is China's way of getting back at us. Sinister indeed!
So I call my friend Naomi today. She is shocked and amazed to learn of the possible cribside peril she has received from me. Now she's eager to plunk the batteries in and listen for the message of pure baby bile.
Of course like me, if it turns out the aquarium actually says, "I hate you"... she'll be totally thrilled.
A few weeks ago I sent a wonderful woman named Naomi a baby shower gift from her internet registry. The day I put in the order, I happened to visit another friend I haven't seen since she fell into the baby vortex. a.k.a. Park Slope, Brooklyn.
There hanging in her son's crib I spied the very toy I had selected a few hours before, The Fisher-Price Ocean Wonders Aquarium.
Wow! I ask Alyssa about it and she says her son loves the toy, always has, it's incredible. She says all her baby laden friends agree it's a must-have. She tells me the thing plays sounds, the fish waggle, light up and... I need to take her word for it. For as I try to take it for a spin she tells me the batteries are currently dead, further proving how much her son loves it.
Excellent, I think. I am the best present giver ever. I don't know much about babies, but I obviously have an intuitive sense about these things. I really should be a personal shopper or a...
"But you know there's something odd," Alyssa says, "I was reading reviews of the toy on some baby site message board. Some parents claim there's a voice under the ocean sounds that clearly says, 'I hate you' to the baby."
What?
Yes. Apparently this toy aquarium delivers subliminal messages of hate. Amid the controversy, Wal-Mart has pulled it from their shelves. A parent in the article even theorizes this is China's way of getting back at us. Sinister indeed!
So I call my friend Naomi today. She is shocked and amazed to learn of the possible cribside peril she has received from me. Now she's eager to plunk the batteries in and listen for the message of pure baby bile.
Of course like me, if it turns out the aquarium actually says, "I hate you"... she'll be totally thrilled.
Wednesday, November 26, 2003
Oooh Ah
Once again I will grace the back pages of US Weekly. Next week catch Felber's quips a plenty in "Fashion Police."
Now my glam rump is off to Thanksgiving in the not-so-wilds of Long Island. I'm taking my Scottish pal Angie and my Midwestern pal Eris. I'm hoping I can show them where I was raised, but I fear the holiday crowds mean we may not be able to get near the mall.
Once again I will grace the back pages of US Weekly. Next week catch Felber's quips a plenty in "Fashion Police."
Now my glam rump is off to Thanksgiving in the not-so-wilds of Long Island. I'm taking my Scottish pal Angie and my Midwestern pal Eris. I'm hoping I can show them where I was raised, but I fear the holiday crowds mean we may not be able to get near the mall.
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