Monday, February 07, 2005

Some wonking and whatnot

Okay. So between some irritating technical difficulties, an overly busy schedule, and the hormonally-driven crap-ass attitude I've had for the past few days, no bloggy-bloggy action. I'm still pissed off for no solid reason (other than the gnawing certainty that I'll die alone in a trailer in Missouri with 67 cats, of course), but there's stuff to be said, so I'm making the effort. goes:

On the Johnny Depp front...good news...Giovanni Agnelli, Hollywood-type and avid Haylarphile, spent $5,000.00 on Executive Producer credit for Do it for Johnny. Seems he hadn't yet picked up a birthday gift for his dear friend Farrah Fawcett, so he jumped on eBay and bid on one of the auctions rather than running to the Prada store for yet another handbag. (Note to self: Make friends with this Agnelli dude before next birthday.) Rumor has it that LaVerne Difazio herself is interested in the project and may contribute as well. The press releases are rolling in...check the site for details, and of course I'll keep posting updates, starfucker that I am.

Anyway...It occurred to me recently that if somebody hasn't already made a porno entitled "Bangs of New York," somebody oughta.

It also occurred to me that since David turned up safe, I've thought and thus blogged quite a bit less about the tsunami and its victims. How self-absorbed of me. That said, there's a big ol' all-day tsunami benefit called On the Rocks this coming Sunday, 2/13, at Arlene's Crappy Grocery on the LES. Expect appearances by a veritable shitload of NYC's best bands, including Drag Citizen, Joker Five Speed, and the Sex Slaves. Good chance to meet yours truly, if you're so inclined...I'll be the belligerently drunk girl standing in the huge puddle of Eric 13-inspired drool. Hot, I know. (It's shocking that he's not my boyfriend already, me being all cool and whatnot. What is he thinking? Drool is cool. Drool roolz. Yeah...)

Oh I can't have Eric. At least this guy is back on the market...

Moving right along...the Giraffes show last week at the soon-to-be-sadly-defunct Luna Lounge was, of course, excellent. By about three songs in, however, I realized that their shows will never be quite the same for me, or for anyone who loves those monkeys. Gurn will be Gurn. Wouldn't have it any other way. But a couple of heart attacks later, it makes me nervous as hell watching him do what he does onstage. Of course, if I expressed this to him directly, I'd expect something like "Huff gas, pipsqueak!" in return. And Damien might headbutt me. Last time that happened, I wasn't right for days. (Okay, a week. And a half.) So I won't say anything. I'll just keep going to shows, quietly vacillating between fretting and rocking out. Meh.

And I know y'all were expecting me to make some sort of snarky, profanity-laden tirade in regards to Dubya's State of the Union address last week, but you wouldn't be anything I haven't said before. All I can say is that I'd be SO much happier with the state of things if I were a Fascist. Too bad for me.

Maybe if I finally do some laundry tonight I'll be less cranky tomorrow. I doubt it...but since the worst that can come of it is some clean panties, well...


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