So this is the new year

I refuse to do the year-in-review type of thing. That just seems ridiculous. I'm a blogger, for christssake, not a newscaster or a pop star or a recently deceased president or something. Like you care about the details of my year. And if you do, the archives are over there on the right side of your screen. Knock yourself out.

I don't believe in New Years resolutions, either. If I can't make myself work out or cut back on the pizza & porn today, what's going to motivate me tomorrow? Not a goddamn thing, that's what. Well...maybe the prospect of getting a whole lot more boo-tay in 2007. That could do it.

Anyway, all that aside, Happy Fucking New Year to all y'all, for reals. Be safe, have fun, yada yada. Helen loves you.

Jail stinks

Take it from Helen the Felon, kids...stay out of trouble, or this could happen to you.

And then, even worse...after you get your smelly ass kicked, stupid bloggers make fun of you.

It just ain't worth it.

So, like, stay in school, and stuff. Yeah.

Crappy New Year

He was scheduled to perform here in NY on New Year's Eve. Sigh.

Peace out, Godfather.

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

The three wise men arrived to visit the child lying in the manger. One of the wise men was exceptionally tall and smacked his head on the low doorway as he entered the stable.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed.

"Write that down, Mary," said Joseph. "It's better than Derek."

(Via Popbitch. Who else?)

A Very Timberlake Christmas (Eve)

Finally, some Christmas music I can stand!

Not sure what's more awesome/ridiculous: The video itself, or the fact that I first saw it on Dave Navarro's blog.

God bless you, Andy Samberg.

WYG out!

Yeah, so holy crap. Last night's WYSIWYG was just...wow.

Bear with me, here...I got home this morning at about the same time I normally get up for work, so I'm still a little messy.

First and foremost, huge thanks to Chris and Andy for letting me participate, especially amongst a group of actual performers and real writers. Chris totally rules. And she sher is perty.

I was incredibly pleased and flattered by the throng of blogger friends who showed up, including Tom, Aaron, Joe, Dashiell, Curly, and David. And a whole bunch of my non-blogger friends (yes, I have non-blogger friends) attended as well, for which I'm very grateful. We had a great crowd, made even better by the high volume of booze being slung by the wonderful staff of the Bowery Poetry Club.

The performers were, all in all, pretty damned hysterical. Emily Epstein is now officially the only person I know to have bungee jumped with a snootful. Awesome. Ed Hamilton was responsible for the night's best (and ultimately, most painful) belly laughs...read his story and see for yourself. Derek Hartley taught us some valuable lessons about hooking up with drunk people (don't do it...they'll pee in your closet!) and NOT drinking Jagermeister after eating chicken alfredo. I'm sure this knowledge will come in handy someday...thanks Derek! Reality TV celeb Dan Renzi and his quietly hilarious not-so-straight man performed a dialogue revealing the joys and pitfalls of dating a beer-swilling closet case.

And then, keeping with the theme of the evening, I went out with Curly, uptown boy MA, and my beloved Flower from Colorado and got totally shithammered. Good times.

The only downside: I was such a waste of space all day that I completely forgot to show up at the kids' Christmas party I was supposed to work this afternoon. Look at me...one show, and I'm already exhibiting flaky diva behavior. WYSIWYG may have created a monster.

You can be a WYSIWYG-er too

I hate it when bloggers get overly self-referential, but I'm too goddamned lazy to type this all over again. Thus, please come see this show tonight, and be entertained as I bring my past episodes of drunken humiliation into our collective present. It'll be fun. No, really!

And besides...if I start to bomb, I'm totally taking my shirt off. That alone is worth the $7.

My girls and I thank you in advance for your support.

The onset of the Early Mid-Thirties

Guess what Helen got for her birthday, kids!

Was it...

A) Her period

B) A zit with its own weather system

C) Three pounds heavier

D) Lots of awesome messages and calls from people she effin' loves

E) A surprise visit from a much-hearted Denver kid

E) A wonderful upscale Chinese lunch, complete with birthday mousse

F) A digital copy of Punk Rock Girl from Eric

G) A Freedom Tower

H) Madly, totally, awesomely laid

I) All of the above

J) All of the above except laid


Guess! G'head!

Giant tampons or upside-down birthday candles? You be the judge!

Nature's own revenge

Everybody has one.

It's that one person in your past who, no matter how hard you may try, you're unable to forget. The one ex who didn't so much break your heart as shove it through a meat grinder, make a burger of it, eat it, crap it out, and flush it away. Yeah, that one.

Time passes. You get over it, you move on, you grow.
Or at least you think you do.

And then, years later, the bastard turns 40 WAAAAAAAAY before you ever will, and the perverse pleasure you garner from it is so intense that it almost makes that sorry turd of a relationship and the torture you endured for it worthwhile.

Maturity is SO kick ass. Being old, though...that sucks.

BWAH HA HA

Happy birthday, shitbird.

The Biggest Helen

There's something inherently evil about eating a large pizza and an order of extra-greasy garlic knots while watching a marathon of The Biggest Loser.

That didn't stop me, of course.

I think I'll pay my karmic debt by sleeping with Marty, who at this point has lost like 600 pounds and morphed into a total hottie.

Still going to hell. But I might get a good seat.

Joyeux Noel

I love my job not for the benefits, which are great, or the paycheck, which is okay, or the work, which is totally fucktarded. No, I love it for the people . Considering how much I despise people in general, that's surprising, even to me. But these people...they're special.

The other day, Officemate Eric, Coworker Charley and yours truly were discussing the decscent of the Christmas season as we wandered across town (toward a bar, of course) after work.

Helen: Oh god, I hate Christmas music.

Eric: You hate everything.

Helen: Yeah, but I really, really hate Christmas music.
In fact, there are only two things I hate more: Mayonnaise, and...
And, uh...hmmm...

Charley: The French?

Helen: (Stunned, deeply impressed pause) Yes, that's right.
The French! Thank you, Charley.

Charley: No problem.

Somehow, the chorus of "Let it Snow" blaring from a storefront as we passed didn't bother me quite so much after that.

This job...it's a keeper.

Save the date, or something

Okay, so that nice girl who puts on them there blog and pony shows over at the Bowery Poetry Club decided that if she was gonna do a show about boozin', she best call in some Subject Matter Experts.

Needless to say, I, along with Dan Renzi, Emily Epstein, Derek Hartley, and Ed Hamilton happily (okay, drunkenly) accepted her invitation.

Since this blessed event takes place the day after my birthday, we'll be drinking (surprise!) afterwards at some shitty joint over there in the East Village somewheres. The $7 you pay for the show absolves you from your obligation to buy me a birthday drink. Everybody wins!

Also, if you have any good stories about me being drunk that I may not remember too clearly...and I'm sure many of you do...email me, as most of the material I'm working on is, uh...a tad gappy at present. (Scotch is bad for you, kids! Just say no!) Thanks.

This is neither sad nor ironic...

Gay marriage is now legal is South Africa.

You remember South Africa, don't you? Aptly named little country located on the southernmost tip of Africa, which enforced a system of aparteid from 1948 until just 12 short years ago? You know, the government that kept Nelson Mandela locked up for almost thirty years, basically for being black? Yeah. That South Africa.

And here in good ol' America, land of the free and home of the gays...I mean, brave? Up here in America, in spite of a Constitution that is supposed to guarantee equal rights for all citizens and a purported separation of church and state, we've got laws against same sex marriage in...how many states now? Five? Twelve? Thirty-three? You tell me, kids. I'm too lazy and disgusted to look it up.

Awesome. Totally awesome.

World AIDS Day, 2006

Don't wait for the punchline today, kids, 'cause it ain't comin'.

We're twenty-five years into the pandemic now. The meds are better, some people are living longer (emphasis on some), and somehow, people seem to feel safer from it.

But hello, duh, AIDS still kills people. It hasn't gone away. And in spite of the fact that we know how not to, people are still getting infected. It makes me angry. It's unnecessary. We need to take better care of ourselves. I could spend all day on the reasons we don't, but instead, here are some numbers* for you to consider.

-People with HIV/AIDS in NYC as of 6/30/05: 96,829
-AIDS-related deaths in NYC, January-June 2005: 973

-People with HIV/AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa as of 12/05: 24.5 million
-AIDS-related deaths in Africa, 2005: 2 million (estimated)
-African children orphaned by AIDS since 1981: 12 million

-People living with AIDS in NYC, presently recovering in the hospital from an extremely painful and awful AIDS-related illness and subsequent surgery, whom Helen Damnation happens to love very, very much and worry about pretty much constantly:
Just one. But that's more than enough.

You don't have to donate money.

You don't have to adopt an AIDS orphan from Africa.

You don't have to do anything to help fight AIDS, except USE A FUCKING CONDOM, AND GET YOURSELF TESTED. How difficult is that, exactly?

In New York City, you can get info on free and confidential testing here.

If you do have some cash and/or volunteer time to spread around, here, here, and here are some places that could use them.

This is the one day a year that my soapbox comes out.
Thanks for reading.
Please do your part.

*Statistics compiled from the NYC Health Department and the UNAIDS/WHO 2006 report on the global AIDS epidemic. I ain't makin' this shit up.