I'm not on one from work, but I need one from the blog so I can get taxes, shows, book proposals and stacks of mail all tied up in one neat little bow. It sucks too because I am being so hilarious right now with nowhere to publish it. Life is full of tragedies like that all the time! I'll post occasionally for sure and definitely come out to The Telephone Bar on Thursday night for standup because that's when it all comes together but until oh mid-February say, know that I'm off getting a suntan at Premise Beach.
Thanks for reading "A word about the poodle." In this message I'd like to tell you about my mother's poodle, but more than that I'd like to tell you about a new way of seeing movies. I consider it an exciting new technology for turning crap films into completely mind-blowing cinematic experiences.
You see, my mother has a poodle named Shady, and Shady is a poodle that has several sweaters and outfits. I have to say, I am not a poodle fan. I am writing this as someone who is not a fan of poodles. But that was then. That was before the mind-blowing new technology discovery. I would now like to tell you what made me into a fan of poodles. When I was home in San Diego for Christmas, I said to my mother, "Let's go see a movie." And she said, "But I have Shady with me." And I said, "That's okay, we'll sneak her in." And she said, "I guess I did that once before." And I said, "Good let's do it again." Then I tried to fit Shady into a Container Store bag which was really the start of about three hours of nonstop, action-packed, rising in crescendo until you just can't breathe anymore hilarity. The poodle disliked the bag.
We decided that we would carry the poodle in boldly as if the poodle belonged in AMC Cinemas as much as babies belong in rose petals and infants belong in pirate suits. Our first lucky break came in how charming I am. Our second lucky break came in seeing that the guy who was collecting tickets was in a wheelchair. "The guy collecting tickets is in a wheelchair!" I exclaimed. The poodle let out a little yelp of joy. My mom was pretty stoked. We walked past him, tickets to the left of us, poodle to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with Scooter. The guy looked up at us, ripped our stubs, and smiled. If this were a scene from "Rent" we'd all be singing, "No day but today," and the poodle would be acting sad about heroin.
We strolled inside purposefully, such a nice theater, all the amenities, yes, yes, yes, water fountains, everything's in order, very good, very nice, except less Sacha Baron Cohen-like. We walked to the designated theater. We considered seats. We found suitable ones. I got popcorn. I got a big Coke. My mom held Shady. The movie started. Then it went on for three hours. During this time I don't think I have laughed my ass off quite so hard while trying to remain silent as the suspense of this kind of shitty movie was heightened to such a degree where you practically couldn't stand it anymore wondering if the Cubans were going to catch on to the CIA and some boats in a jar or something and a neglectful father and Skull & Bones pulling their little tricks all the while knowing that at any given moment this poodle might let out a low-pitched mewl of excitement.
You just prayed it would not happen during a boat scene.
At one point Shady was crawling all over me poking her head up trying to figure out what purpose Angelina Jolie served in this movie but also enjoying her exquisite breasts and I kept feeding Shady popcorn and my mom sat near tears in hysterics whispering urgently, "She's going to throw up if she keeps eating popcorn," and I sat near tears in hysterics whispering back, "I know." And the funniest part, oh my God the funniest part, was how every time someone died or a tense, tight-lipped wordless confrontation was had or a diabetic limb of De Niro's fell off and you thought to yourself, sweet Jesus, it's been way past two hours surely Matt Damon is going to look meaningfully at some boats or ignore his son one last time or disinterestedly do something before finally fading...to...black.
But no. Not this movie. Not this movie, bro.
You had to admire the balls of this movie that did not end. I don't think I liked it. I don't think I was quite smart enough for it but that also happened to me when I read "The Crying of Lot 49" twice and I was told not getting it is part of the brilliance so I guess this was brilliant, too, and big ups on the wooden boats. Those really got to me. But let us get to the real point of all this. Let us look at the larger picture. Because yes, undeniably, when looking at recent cinematic triumphs, "Borat" is a treasure, the scrote in the face scene is definitely one to be remembered for all posterity. An OMG I'm LOLing moment to beat. Kind of like the fat guy's balls.
But I think this is bigger than that. It is bigger than all of us.
Because when everything is said and done, when each point and counterpoint has been made, when all the votes have been tallied, I truly believe there is no better comedy to be seen in a theater this year than "The Good Shepherd" with a poodle in your lap.
'THAT'S funny," Jamie Foxx says, when asked if he felt upstaged by Eddie Murphy's Golden Globe-winning performance in "Dreamgirls." "Because I haven't heard anybody ask Leonardo DiCaprio if he thought that Jack Nicholson upstaged him [in "The Departed"], and this is the only movie that I've heard these types of comments.
APPEARING at a public event for the first time together since last year's "JT Leroy" literary scandal, Laura Albert - who wrote the books - and Savannah Knoop - who played the nonexistent author "Leroy" in public - said they don't understand why people want them to apologize. The two came out to attend the opening-night reception for multimedia artist Robert Wilson's new high-def video portraits at the Phillips de Pury gallery in Chelsea. Wilson did a video portrait of "Leroy" in 2005 just as the hoax started to unravel. In the video, Knoop sports the blonde wig and sunglasses that became the trademark of the young "male" author who had a throng of celebrity admirers. "For me, JT was never a hoax," Albert told The Post's Mandy Stadtmiller. "And people say, 'Well, why don't you apologize.' What for? Because you bought a book? Because you were moved by the words?" Knoop said, "Vanity Fair wanted to do a big piece . . . about the hoax, and it isn't a hoax. I don't think you can use that word to explain something so sublime." Albert said, "I would feel JT leave my body and enter her [Knoop] . . . People responded with great love and great joy. We never sat there and said, 'Ha, ha, we're tricking people.' "
about how a Nerve guy emailed me with what I found to be a very crude, very offensive imitation of the Asian people.
"how was your weekend? Do anything fun? Just waying hello...hope to hear from you."
And she wrote, "This is excellent. This is like the time I went out with a German guy and afterwards he sent me an email saying 'Hi Mackenzie, I had fan last night.'"
Which killed me. Mainly because all I could think of was that one "Cosby Show" episode where Cliff has the dream where all the men are pregnant and go into labor. Theo gives birth to a car and Cliff gives birth to a gigantic sub sandwich.
I'd also like to note this is the first time YouTube has completely failed me. Because the search "Cliff Huxtable," "gives birth to" and "a gigantic sub sandwich" returns absolutely nothing.
For only $150,000, you can be like Brad Pitt or Salma Hayek.
How? Commission a high-definition "video portrait" - kind of a mini cinematic homage on a plasma flat screen - from New York multi-media pioneer Robert Wilson, whose haunting works of these gorgeous A-listers have been garnering huge amounts of buzz lately.
Imagine a continuous loop of your favorite celebrity in stunning detail, moving in slow motion and essentially performing in a play as short as 30 seconds and as long as 20 minutes. The works redefine what the very idea of "portrait" even means. Just take a look at the images online at stage.voom.tv/robert_wilson.
"You get a very different quality of image," says Wilson whose unique artistic creations are available to anyone who can afford the hundred-grand-plus price tag - either to purchase or to have one made.
The benefits of reading every single thing posted on MySpace*
(*excerpted from a Top 8 Q&A)
Q: Is 5 nice? A: yes she is rile nice
Q: What's a good memory with 5? A: talk ing to her on myspace cus evre time i her frum her i no its a good day cus i got a mesig or a comint frum a good frindps ev re day is a good day just a bout
Q: Is 5 happy? A: yes i thank so its crismis time its the time for hapenis and joy and king is cum ing back
Q: Have you traveled anywhere with 5? A: no i havint seen her in persin be for
Q: How did you choose your Top 8? A: thay ar all good frinds
Sister: Who's the celebrity who called you an idiot? Me: He's not a celebrity. Sister: But you bought his CD. Me: A lot of people have CDs. Sister: Do you have a CD? Me: No I do not. Sister: Well. Me: You make an excellent point.
So from a brilliant but clearly insane performer whose shit I respect, I first receive on MySpace:
"youre hair looks like a hurricane seducing men to rip their shirts off and run into it standing tongues out tasting every wild flinging drop and the look in your eye -im dying to get it, to understand it"
Then when he calls me tonight but I say I'm too exhausted to get a drink, I receive this:
"YOU WERE COLD TO ME I FELT LIKE I WAS TALKING TO SOEM MORON HIGHSCHOOL IDIOT"
Then when I try to message him back some really hard-core Steinem actualized shit, I realize he's blocked me. Which I think is a first. Which I'm kind of excited about. And here's the irony. When I was at Virgin tonight to buy another CD, I ended up buying his as well. Support. The scene.
So I think I'm going to count this as the most serious relationship I've had so far since my divorce. I hope that's okay with everyone. I'm also going to count this as the closest to a blog cliche I've ever come. I hope that's okay with everyone.
Although if we're doing blog cliches, let's not forget the one and only time I fooled around with a married man (after he showed me a picture of his teenage daughter, who clearly was a lovely young woman) which was at the nadir of my self-destructive depression more than a year ago and Oldie McRich Rich turned to me with a look of pure patronizing seduction and said, "Do you have a blog?" Little girl. Do you?
That definitely wins the award. Which is terrible. Because now that I'm remembering it, I guess I'll have to count this as the second most serious relationship I've had.
'It's not you, it's post-9/11 us,' and other true tales of getting canned
Meet the woman fired—and called "retarded"—by Woody Allen.
It may just be the best thing that ever happened to Annabelle Gurwitch. The affable and very much not retarded comedic actress has turned the experience into a small empire of sorts - first a successful stage show, then a successful book (just released in paperback this month), and on Feb. 2 her new documentary "Fired!" opens at the Village East.
Come to this show tonight and have the course of your life changed forever
Sal's Comedy Hole for Comedynet.com 89 MacDougal St. @ Bleecker Wednesday, Jan 10, 9 p.m.
I've played this hole before and it is a good hole. It is a hole below a restaurant. When you go to the restaurant that exists at this location, simply gravitate inside to where the hole is.
There are so many excellent things about this documentary done by my dear friend Maggie Bandur from when I was a Northwestern freshman in 1993.
Favorite highlights include:
a) My behemoth set of eyebrows. b) My childlike propensity for swearing. c) My unfortunate use of the word "grunge." d) My unfortunate use of the prefix "alterna." e) My unfortunate use of the chain Supercuts.
The first five people who can spot Pulitzer Prize-winning photographer Vincent LaForet and tell me exactly what is running through his mind will receive a personalized MySpace glitter comment.
Please note: "I'm going to win a Pulitzer someday, asshole," is not a legitimate entry.
It's fans vs. stars as Web sites sour on celeb crushes
THE feuds, the divorce, the child services investigations. But you know things have gotten bad when even the obsessive fans - the ones blogging about you at 2 a.m.—have turned against you.
WorldofBritney.com, one of the most popular fan sites ever devoted to the pop tart, is abandoning the crotch-flashing superstar. Christina Ricci's largest fan site closed down shop last month when the wide-eyed Goth girl appeared on the cover of W magazine draped in fur. And in Italy, a Guns N' Roses Web site went "on strike" to protest the band's lack of information about their long-awaited new album.
"Their pride kicks in," says E! Online's "Answer Bitch" Leslie Gornstein. "It's like the last straw. They know that they can't turn a blind eye to what's going on because, in the case of Britney, if they keep worshiping her, their friends are going to think they have a screw loose."
The photos are at the heart of a scandal that has rocked McKinney, an affluent bedroom community north of Dallas. By many accounts, the group of cheerleaders, known as the "Fab Five," were out of control—an elite social clique that flagrantly flouted school rules but faced few sanctions.
For sure!
Also provides me a good excuse to write about something I wanted to from last month. Here you go, straight from the learnal.
I finally read The New York Times story about Michael Richards and the Laugh Factory instituting a rule where if you say the n-word you get banned for four to six months and possibly fined. The story also employed the unfortunate device of talking about how an impromptu town hall has arisen as a result of the incident.
Could we also institute a fine every time the phrase "town hall" is used? It could be done in an impromptu manner.
The language reminds me of this one writer I used to work with years ago who was a feisty little whippersnapper with all the old newspaper men wrapped around her finger. She also provided what is perhaps my all-time favorite correction ever. It came from a heart-tugging, "Eleanor Rigby"-inspired piece about all the lonely people spending Thanksgivings anywhere but home. In the story, several non-sourced people were provided as color, including a wonderfully tragic figure playing Blackjack at a casino. Oh. So poignant. Father McKenzie darning the socks, etc.
The correction? Said casino does not offer Blackjack. We regret the error.
But yeah Lil Fiesty also had this amazing habit of never referring to a small town or city.
They were always burgs. Lonely, lore-filled burgs. And you know what? Betcha impromptu town halls sprung up there all the time.
Remember that scene in "The Money Pit" when the bathtub falls through the floor and Tom Hanks can't stop cracking up and it's the funniest thing ever?
Well now you do. (Bonus: French subtitles. "Un petit problem!")
Anyway, one of my best friends in the entire world recently sent out this series of emails and when I got the final one on Friday I laughed my ass off. It was very bathtub falling through the floor. Nov. 20, 2006
So I'm all moved in thanks to the invaluable help of smart and strong friends! There is only one (well two) problems. First, I have no cell phone reception in my apartment and second, my door buzzer does not work. Basically, I'm cut off from the rest of humanity. I probably won't be able to deal with these issues until after Thanksgiving so if you need to reach me call before 5:30pm, okay?
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Dec. 12, 2006
Hello everyone!
My new landline was installed today so I can now be reached in the evenings!
Hope all is well.
Dec. 15, 2006
Hello everyone!
So. I did have a land line for about a day. I no longer have the land line for reasons that stress me out too much to talk about. While the folks at AT&T are very kind, they are also very incompetent.
I have decided to switch my cell phone service to one that will allow me to get a signal at my apartment. I will be able to keep the same number but I won't have that service until early next week.
To review:
Do *not* use this number.
Continue to use this number.
Thanks! I'll be talking to you soon!
Dec. 29, 2006
Hello everyone!
I just wanted to send an update about the Phone Debacle (as it will hence be known).
UPS has really messed up and a package I should have received on December 20th has still not arrived. They are now promising Wednesday but I have lost almost all faith.
You may be confused if you have been calling my number and getting the voice mail. My new phone will have the same number as the old but the old cell is no longer in service. I know. It's confusing.
The best way to reach me at this point is via email or at work. Please don't think I'm ignoring you. I promise I will call when I can.
I was telling a friend today about one of the bits I gave Weingarten that he didn't use as a response to the Christopher Hitchens essay. Which would be.
"I haven't laughed that hard since my boyfriend stopped beating me!"
