Mandy Stadtmiller Dot Com

Sunday, April 30, 2006

Pink is the new naked

Saturday, April 29, 2006

Death and Post-Its

My grandmother just passed away, which is hard.

I was pretty upset about it, you know?

Because, like, the very next week. My best friend, she totally copied me.

Death is hard. It makes everyone involved feel incredibly uncomfortable. Like this kid I know, his grandfather passed away. And I didn't know what to do, so I ended up posting a comment on MySpace.

Rolling On The Floor Mourning.

Then I put him in my Top 8. In lieu of flowers.

My friend who's a doctor, he has a difficult job. Telling people they're going to die. So I asked him, how do you do it? Do you say, Carpe Diem? And he said, yes, Mandy. I take them out into a little cave by the woods and we read poetry together. And I said, jeez. You don't have to be so sarcastic.

Patch.

Can I call you, Patch?

And he said no. Which I found especially rude.

I was on the subway today next to this girl and she was reading.

The book still had a Post-It on it, which was interesting. It said, "I didn't say you could read my book so why is my book on your desk." But even better than that was what she was actually reading.

A little title by the name of "You Wrong That."

See. I didn't even know this book was available.

Friday, April 28, 2006

Hairdo high times logic problems

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Fun-raising

I don't have cellulite.

But I do believe in giving to cellulite charities.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Thanks for the A.D.D.

The power of the friend request

This is what you get when you add someone you don't know. Something great. That's what.

Thanks for the friend request. Wait, we don't actually know each other do we? If we do excuse my lack of recognition. Are you into punk rock and exploitation movies?

Saturday, April 22, 2006

I heart turns of phrase

Come poop with me

Oh how delightful to name Donald Trump's future spawn Jesus Christ.

And yes, I did ask Don LaFontaine to record my new voicemail greeting.

In more pressing news, if you caught me at Sputnik on Wednesday, I want to reiterate. No matter how many times a man says it, skullfucking just gets more and more romantic every time I hear it. Especially in that one De Beers commercial. Skullfuck her again like the very first time. De Beers.

Speaking of the future, a director who forgot to tell me he was married told me what may be the best line of a script ever written.

"Welcome to the '90s, motherfucker."

That will now be in everything I write from this point forward.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Thinking about kittens, hearts and rainbows

Item

I will be on Maxim Radio on Sirius on Monday talking about getting organized. I'll see if I can segue into my personal pet cause: organizational tips for your vagina.

Check it out yourself. The segment's at noon.

The quote I didn't use from Michael Musto regarding "Showgirls" which basically sums up my philosophy of life is: "We are all Tony Moss." It's true. And in the words of Tony Moss, "What are these? Watermelons? This is a stage, babe. It's not a patch." Funny story. That's exactly what the admissions officer from Harvard said to me when I got waitlisted.

Do you ever just say completely the wrong thing? I was candy striping at this hospital for lepers and this one guy's right arm completely falls off, and I said, "You like to show off, don't you?" The instant I said it, I wished I could take it back.

I'm only doing Scientology until I can get in shape. I can quit any time I want.

I'm not so much a starfucker as I am a starspooner. I just want to cuddle with Moby.

Is there such a thing as a pity gang bang?

Or, did it just feel that way?

How do you tell someone that you just had the worst sex of your life? Better luck next time? Was it bad for you, too? Or "Get back in the confession booth, Father, this is highly inappropriate?"

I came out to my parents this weekend. I'm not gay, but I just felt like it was time for a big announcement.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Grove is in the heart

Snakes on a plane

Icepick. Vacation. Organize. Then I went to comedy. Then I went to Scores. Then I watched a poor comic pay $40 to make two women with terrifyingly fake breasts leave him alone. Then I went to Florida. Then I wrote this joke:

I'm a little bit worried about Courtney Love's retirement portfolio.

Then I hitched a ride with some guy who told me not to hitch rides. Then I ate at Olive Garden and was like, so how does this work, breadsticks? Salad? We're family? Then I met these construction workers sharing a pail of Long Island Ice Teas and asked if they were lovers and watched them push the pail back and forth between each other for a while. Then I did a backspring in the pool. Then I sat in the jacuzzi. Then I demanded that the breakfast bar be reopened. Then this old guy with a beret saw me and was like, "You are the '60s and the '70s combined! I love it!" Then I read my romcom to two strangers. Now I go walk in the ocean. Then I catch a flight.