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Tomorrow I'll be embarking on what we here at Lies! All Lies! like to call "a vacation". While I won't be sipping coconut flavored cocktails while upgrading my tan, I will be sweating a lot and going to the mall and playing Spin The Four Year Old. Or so I hear.

It'll be hard to tear myself away from my quasi-daily word regurgitation. Looks like I'll have to find other things to occupy my time. Like scoodging my mother's cat. Or watching TV. I hear it's hot there. Eating. I'm sure I'll be doing some of that (thanks to Missy's Pasta Surprise).

(What else is there to do, again?)

It's good to go home.

Slow news day?

According to the Associated Press, 9 minutes ago three more explosions took place in London. Only one person was hurt but clearly it was meant to be a larger attack, yet there's nothing on any of the news stations about it. I'm not a fear monger, but shouldn't there be something on the news about this? Or are the Brits just that stoic? Damn.

Bureaucracy is fun!

I love spending all morning on the phone with the regional director from the Department of Labor.

He was actually very helpful for someone who kept reminding me that he was "technically" my adversary. Don't worry, I won't bore you with the details. I do find it ironic (in the real, non-Alanis way) that two months ago the government decided to close the New York City Unemployment office. The workers were told they had the choice to move to Troy or some equally bum-fuck town, or they could stay here and lose their job. And because they were offered "reasonable employment" elsewhere, none of them are eligible for unemployment.

Let's hear it for Government In Action!

I am so rock.

Yes that is me in last week's People Magazine, right along with Brad and Angie. There's so few degrees of separation, dude, I practically know them.

Where's the bar?

I think I'm still drunk. Matt and I had our weekly date last night and went to see Lewis Black perform. This is extraordinary for us, not only because we left the house after dark - but on a Tuesday, no less! (Truth be told, he was performing at West Bank Cafe which is technically in our building. If we'd had to get on a subway that would've been it.) I've always thought he was funny on the Daily Show, if occasionally a little pushed. (Explosive rage is tough to manufacture in only a minute and a half.) But live, he's outstanding. He only did 12 minutes but it was the funniest 12 minutes of my life. If he comes to your town, do yourself a favor and go see him in all his finger-pointing glory.

They do some mighty big pours at West Bank and there was a two-drink minimum. (The serving size was probably closer to four glasses.) I don't like to brag, but I'm what's known as a "cheap date". I might have gotten a little tipsy. Hell, I might've given Lewis a thumbs-up when he smiled at me when we were leaving. I'm not saying I did, I'm just saying I might've.

Bring on the crazies.

This whole hunt for enlightenment, "bigger picture" thing is getting me down, man. Needless to say, the first thing to go was the vegetarianism. I had a valiant four days but then it all went down the crapper with some free-range chicken and pasta salad. My plan was to be solidly vegetarian - plus fish. (Fish is a vegetable. As is bacon.) But then I got to talking with a chef who worked at Angelica Kitchen (uber-veg, for those out of the city). She was vegan for awhile but started to get woozy so she tried to introduce fish into her diet, but then she discovered that the mercury levels are getting so high that it's almost better to eat free-range, organic meat. (Free-range and organic are two different things. Just because they're fed organic feed doesn't mean the get to walk around, and vice-versa.) For women of childbearing years, they say ("they" that declare these things) that you should only eat fish - particularly canned tuna or salmon - once every two weeks. And if you're trying to get pregnant you're supposed to stop eating fish for six months because that's how long it takes for mercury to leave your system. Plus there's the significant problem of overfishing. At the rate we're going several species will be depleted, making life even tougher for fishermen and screwing up the ecosystem something fierce. So now I've settled on a mostly vegetarian diet supplemented with free-range, organic dairy and chicken. (I still can't eat cow. I'm sure it hurts chickens to kill them but cows bother me more. I'm convinced that because they have bigger brains they register more pain.) But then I read an article in Elle, of all places, written by their food writer. She was talking about the trend in restaurants toward exotic (read: icky) dishes. Call it the Mario Batali factor, but more and more restaurants are serving innerds. Beef cheek ravioli, coxcombs, liver and heart, brains... Sweetbreads creep me out the most. I always thought sweetbreads were the balls, but it's the thyroid. You're eating the stress hormone of the animal. The stress hormone of an animal that was undoubtedly incredibly stressed at the time of the kill. Now I don't eat these things - I doubt any of you do - but the interview with Mario Batali was very interesting. His point is that if you're going to kill an animal, you should use as much of it as possible. Why is the flank more appealing than the tongue? He pointed out that in the wild, animals always eat the brain and the tongue first because that's the tastiest and most nourishing part. While intellectually I agree, I can't get past the gross-out factor. But why can I justify not eating veal, duck, or rabbit because A: they're babies and B: they're cute, but I can scarf down the adult with only moderate pangs of guilt? I know that if everyone on the planet became vegetarian we'd have a serious animal overpopulation problem (see what happens to deer in the wild) but I can't, can't, can't eat another mouthful of tofu "egg" salad! I've also noticed that many of my female friends are contemplating vegetarianism, but I've never heard any men debating it. Curious.

And then there's God. Or more specifically, Jesus. Still mulling over those pesky issues. For some reason I have very little problem with the concept of God but Jesus is trickier for me. Probably because he was human and therefore fallable (which is a good thing) but I feel like I get yelled at a lot over him. (Him? WHEN DO YOU CAPITALIZE?!) The whole "JE-sus died for you!" stuff makes me so grumpy. If the idea is that we're all children of God, a part of God as it were, if God is inside each and every one of us, then why do we have to feel so damned guilty about everything? And church! While I'm really twitchy to go back - craving it, really - it almost makes me feel more separate, like it's a barrier between God and man. (Sorry for all the italics. I just got done reading Franny & Zooey.) Still, I'm going back. I'll be home for two weeks starting Saturday (clear your schedules, kids!) and am thinking of going to the Episcopalian church there. (The one across from the Lutheran church.) They used to put crosses out for every soldier that died in the war but there were so many that now they have one really big cross. That amount of ballsiness is encouraging.

Don't get me started on the ant killer I just bought. That's a post for another day.

Hey Jude. Don't make it bad.

I used to think Jude Law was hot. Sure he's balding and fairly wee, but do those sorts of things matter when you're blessed with a face that looks like that? He never spoke badly of his ex-wife and was such a devoted dad (and so virile!) that I could tolerate his relationship with the gorgeous Sienna Miller, even though her constant ability to be perfectly attired left me cold.

But that was before I learned he was fucking the nanny.

Somebody explain it, because for the life of me I can't understand how anyone could be so hilariously, painfully, indescribably dumb. Normal guys cheat, sure. Most stand a reasonable chance of getting away with it so why not play the odds? But he's JUDE LAW! He's got telephoto lenses trained on him 24-7! The paparrazi practically nest in his bushes! The nanny kept a sex diary, for crying out loud! (I would too if I were humping Jude Law.) According to the rumor mill, one of his kids actually walked in on Jude doing the deed and ran crying to his mother... AND JUDE HAD THE BALLS (ahem) TO DENY IT! I just... I just... Aw, come on.

Matt's reaction was to feel sorry for him. Not sorry for him because he got caught but because he had to apologize publicly for something so private. While being a celebrity must be an unimaginable mindfuck, my reaction was more along the lines of "That's RIGHT!" Hell, make him announce it on Letterman! And no Hugh Grant humble pie, career-reviving shenanagans, just Jude with his thinning hair muttering about shagging the sitter. That's what I want. And he's not allowed to grin or wear anything form fitting, them's the rules.

Transient love

Worked a party last night at Ellis - "Hellish" - Island last night until 3 am; some bash for liquor distributers. Rental of the island, ferry to ship the people over, our crew, 150 techies to run the state-of-the-art video and sound, 6 professional dancers, a Captain Morgan look-alike, 2 bands, 10 24-karak gold statuettes, 5 courses, 165 different brands of booze, fireworks over the Statue of Liberty... Estimated cost? $8 million. The cost of my brokedown, broken-ass back? Priceless.

A homeless guy stopped me yesterday. Youngish, dredlocks, beat up guitar case. Very "Shouldn't you be in Berkeley?" look for a hobo.

Homeless guy: "Can you spare 50 cents?"
Me: "Sorry, I don't have any cash on me."
Homeless guy: "Oh. Well, do you want to hang out?"

We're getting married next week.

Jesus Freak: Warning - blasphemy ahead.

There's nothing like death to bring up those nagging little questions. "What's my purpose in life?", "Is there a God?" You know, the usuals. I was raised about as close to agnostic as you can get, setting foot in a church only when absolutely necessary. (Weddings, Concert Choir performances) Maybe because of that, I have a fairly strong aversion to all things preachy or overtly spiritual, be it conservative Christian or floaty yogi. I even get a little tense when people refuse to take God's name in vain, the whole "Oh my gosh" thing, like God really minds. (Or does he? Excuse me, "He".) That said, I pray every night to... someone. Someone I choose to call God. I've never really thought about who I was praying to; just a general, benevolent being. But watching Shirley pass away made me want to have faith in something. Call it fear-based, I don't care, but the idea of faith seems interesting to me now in a way it never was before. So on Sunday Matt and I went to church. We decided on Episcopalian ("Catholic lite") because of their liberal views (homosexuals okay, women can be leaders). They also have, in my opinion, the coolest church in the city - St. John the Divine! Peacocks walking around the gardens, sculpture everywhere, a fantastic art exhibit (check it out, for reals) . They even do a Blessing of the Animals once a year and you can bring your pet to be blessed. (I think I read that when the circus was in town they brought an elephant up.)

I wasn't really prepared for the service. It was very long and there was a lot of singing. I love it when they sing but there was a whole lot of participatory stuff which was awkward since I didn't know the songs. That said, I sort of enjoy the pomp and understand that it's to help get you to a heightened state (thanks, Suz) but I can't quite surrender when it comes to stuff like "Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to Him" and the whole "We confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed by what we have done" and the asking for forgiveness... I start to feel guilty and then I get pissed because what am I feeling guilty about and what do they mean that anyone who doesn't believe in Christ doesn't belong to Him? So Buddhists don't belong to him? (Wait, do Buddhists believe in God?) So someone who lives a decent life, tries to treat people well, but doesn't believe in God will go to Hell (if there even is a Hell. I'm not so sure about that.) but someone who rapes and murders but before dying takes Christ into their heart gets a free pass? Am I supposed to buy that? And the Virgin Mary story - I'm having trouble suspending disbelief on that one. Matt pointed out that it's called a LEAP of faith, not a "gentle glide" of faith, but still. Suzannah suggested that I look to the story behind the Virgin Mary, listen to the point of it, and that helps a little - but I can't let go of the scientific fact that virgins can't get pregnant! Which sort of shoots the whole "faith in a higher being" thing straight out of the water.

The sermon itself was great, about the bombings in London and fear and faith and hope (it was surprisingly political) and I got the feeling that this particular Reverend would probably be pretty cool about my questions, but I still feel like I shouldn't have them. Or not that I shouldn't but that my eye rolling is going to get in the way of finding a Larger Truth. (It'll definitely get me in trouble with the Big Guy. If there is a Big Guy. Will he - HE! - be pissed that I'm calling him "Big Guy"?)

I don't know. I just don't know.

Why does it bother me so?

I was watching the Today show yesterday while catsitting (up at 6:30 am. Those cats had better f-ing love me) and there was a segment about a woman who had given birth thirteen years after freezing her eggs. The baby was finally born after it had been frozen for THIRTEEN YEARS. While that's certainly crazy (and makes you wonder if the child will suffer any ramifications from being frozen that long - I mean, everything goes bad eventually, even in the fridge) what really got me is that, during those thirteen years:
- she had five other children
- had invitro several more times, all of which failed
- yet insisted that "God" wanted her to have this baby

Apparently God did, I guess. But I couldn't help thinking that there are countless orphaned children out there, desperate for adoption. These people have FIVE other children, they've easily spent $80,000 on failed attempts, yet they keep insisting that God wanted this. I don't want to follow in China's footsteps and insist that people only have one child but it just seemed so greedy. I'm not sure why I'm so bothered by it - I mean it's not like they were spending the money on blow... I think it was the God stuff. I'm on a bit of a spiritual quest myself right now and whenever anyone tries to insist that God wants things a certain way I start to feel all ooged out. That, combined with this creepy frozen kid (it looked a little freezer burned, I swear)... I don't know. I just don't know.

There was also a woman who gave birth to a THIRTEEN POUND baby. They call it The Big Enchilada or something equally retarded. Thirteen pounds. Something's up with this, I just haven't put my finger on it yet.

What I do know is that a person does not need a limited edition toilet. I was catering a nightmare job at the palatial townhome of the North American President of Goldman-Sachs last night. I've worked there before and each time I vow never to do it again. It's a six-story home (seven, if you count the double rooftop garden) with an elevator and marble floors and more art than some museums. (The house is rumored to have cost $10 million.) They have the largest Picasso I've ever seen. It's from his blue period and there are fewer than 100 in the world. They have two Rodin sculptures, a Chagall, a Toulouse-Lautrec, a Kandinski, several Monet sketches - and those were only the ones I recognized. They have a live-in chef (needless to say) who used to work for a family that owns a 10,000 square foot house in the Hamptons. That translates to 30 bedrooms, 40 baths, for those in the know. While the Goldman-Sachs' place doesn't touch that, it does have a regulation size basketball court in the basement next to the wine cellar. And a limited edition toilet. I know because I used it. It's located in one of their numerous guest baths; the seat is made of some kind of polished wood and has little brass handles on the side of the lid so you don't have to actually touch it. There's also a tiny brass plate on the lid engraved with "____ & ____ of Jermyn Street" and the toilet's edition number.

But did they tip? Not a chance.

And it's not even about Katie or Tom!

This is just... it's just... Wow.

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/starwarskidv.html

Save the aisle seat

Matt and I went and saw Batman Begins last night. For a summer blockbuster it had a nice bit of heft to it. Christian Bale was the first person to ever make the whole "How can she NOT know it's Bruce Wayne?" thing believable. He's also extremely lickable. And talented! Very talented!(Lickable.)

Poor Katie. Now no one except Michelle Pfeiffer has ever had any kind of real role to play in these things. The women are just there because - nah, I don't know why they're there. And Katie is just... there. It didn't help matters that she's playing opposite Christian Bale who makes even the worst clunker sound believable. And when you fill even the smallest supporting roles with such kickassedness as Gary Oldman, Linus Roche, Morgan Freeman, Liam Neeson, and Cillian Murphy it's hard not to suck in comparison.

That said, yi.

Good flick though. Worth the money. (And at $10.50 a ticket, that's saying something.)

Not even a cookie.

How much do I love my friends? Not only are they, you know, my friends but they send me gifts like this from Radar magazine:

"Katie Holmes may have fallen for it, but Tom Cruise’s sci-fi seduction technique scared the bejeezus out of Scarlett Johansson, a source close to the actress says. Weeks before he began wooing his brainwashed bride-to-be, Cruise made repeated phone calls to the 19-year-old starlet—who was then set to co-star with him in Mission Impossible III—imploring her to meet him at the Scientology Celebrity Center in L.A. But when the actress finally agreed, the supposedly professional get-together took an oddly spiritual turn. “[Cruise] took me into this room, which was stifling hot, and was showing me all kinds of info about joining the church,” Johansson told our source. “The whole time he didn’t even offer me a cookie!” Instead, he offered her dinner—and a glimpse into the Twilight Zone.After two hours of proselytizing, our source says Cruise opened a door to reveal a second room full of upper-level Scientologists who had been waiting to dine with the pair, at which point the cool-headed ingenue politely excused herself. Soon after the meeting, Johansson dropped out of Mission Impossible III, reportedly due to scheduling conflicts. Asked about the incident, Johansson’s momager, Melanie Johansson, referred Radar to a publicist, who did not return calls or emails seeking comment. After striking out with Johansson, Cruise reportedly turned his attentions to 24-year-old Jessica Alba, 22-year-old Kate Bosworth, and 18-year-old Lindsay Lohan, before settling on the 26-year-old Holmes. As far we know, Cruise’s War of the Worlds co-star, Dakota Fanning, was never under consideration."

And check out this one about Tom's new Mission Impossible co-star...

http://www.radarmagazine.com/fresh-intelligence/index.php#report_001417

Thanks to Stef for these beauties.

Can you feel the glee?

Pulled this one off The Superficial. (www.thesuperficial.com) Sure it's ridiculous and probably not true but let me have my little dreams.

If there's one thing I know, it's that random gossip from total strangers based on absolutely no facts is true about 100% of the time. That said, here's an email that reader Rob decided to forward in.

So, I work with this girl who has a family friend that works in PR in Hollywood, and she always has fun little scoops about celeb stuff. Well, if this is true, this is just ridiculous! So, the whole Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes thing - apparently, it is, like we all thought anyway, a ridiculous PR thing. Tom Cruise was supposedly caught in bed with Rob Thomas (the lead singer of Matchbox 20) by Rob Thomas's wife, Marisol. Rob Thomas is also a Scientologist. Obviously, nobody wanted this to get out, and Marisol was going nuts threatening to expose them. I think that she might be getting paid off, but to preempt any rumors about Tom, the Scientology people as well as Tom's PR people basically recruited Katie Holmes to play this part of Tom's super-excited girlfriend, and they are just paying her a b*ttload of money. I guess they also woo'd her with promises of what this would do for her career, since she's at best a B-lister. But I guess now Marisol is so annoyed at all of the press Tom and Katie's relationship is getting, she's threatening to go public, spill the beans, and file for divorce.

Sure, why not.

I can do splits.

Seriously, the sex can't be that good.

http://www.style.com/w/feat_story/070505/full_page.html

Meow.

Thanks to Chintamani for this little nugget.

This morning in the elevator I heard this conversation:
Guy #1: I’m telling you, it’s a sign. You just don’t go around killing animals like that.
Guy#2: It was attacking his mother. What would you do?
Guy#1: It was a *cat.* It was *declawed.*

BREAKING NEWS!

Terror attacks, G-8 Summit, whatevs. BRITNEY'S HAVING TWINS!

I'll be taking a cab.

Woke up to a call from the hubby - terror attacks in London. It's impossible not to start worrying about getting hit again. (Although I assume anyplace that won the Olympics would have been hit today.) I always scoff at people who don't live on one of the coasts who worry that they'll be attacked. Not that Midwesterners don't have the right to be fearful but Matt and I had a field day when one of the local Missouri papers carried a front page story on their "terror drill". Local drama students were recruited to portray the various ethnicities who might be affected. One poor kid played a pregnant woman, an Hispanic laborer, and an Ethiopian amputee. While I'm certain that Al Queida is twitchy to attack O'Fallon, MO (and I certainly feel better knowing that the many, many Ethiopian amputees will be well taken care of) it's clear that New York's the biggie.

Thanks, Bushie. Thanks for making the world a safer place.

The crazy apple

The things I witness in this city never cease to amaze me. I was schlepping groceries (I didn't take the train, mom) and noticed some EMTs hovering over a very old woman. She had clearly fallen or been hit by a car because there was a huge amount of blood streaming from her head, pooling next to her on the street. One of the EMTs kept saying, "Don't worry, we're here to take care of you" over and over. People would pause for a second out of curiosity then just keep on walking. What else is there to do I guess.

A few blocks later I watched a homeless man attempt to lick a leaf. He was sticking his tongue out like a little kid trying to catch a snowflake, giggling away... It made me want to lick one too, just to see.

Wowee wow wow.

I found this on playwright Dan Trujillo's blog where, once in a blue moon, I am featured. Not that I hold a candle to this story.

Hold on to your hats, kids.

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,15739502-13762,00.html

Mmm... bacon...

I'm thinking of becoming a vegetarian. This will come as a shock to everyone who knows my love of all things delicious, but I made the mistake of picking up one of those PETA pamphlets (you know, the ones about how you should go vegetarian and here's all the celebrities who are vegetarian and here's the health and planetary benefits and oh, here's a bunch of pictures of cows crying out in excruciating pain.) Don't they know that innocent, bacon-loving people read this stuff?! I mean, c'mon.

So anyway, for today at least, I'm thinking of going veg. Which isn't the same as going vegan, which is PETA's ultimate goal. Sorry but those people look scary. (Plus, ice cream. I mean, c'mon.)

I'm off to flash my slightly yellowish choppers for the good folks at Crest.

I got nothin'.

I've been trying to figure out what to write but I think I shot my wad yesterday. I've spent the day battling with Sprint for a new phone (sending a letter of complaint to the head muckity-muck works wonders) and unemployment (Regional Manager Brian, upon looking up my file: "It appears that no one has touched this in two months...") and dragging my sweatastic self over to my commercial agent to remind them that yes indeedy, I am commercially viable (apparently it worked because I have an appointment at Saachi & Saachi tomorrow for Crest). I'm trying to decide whether to haul myself down to the gym after having eaten almost half a bag of Swedish Fish or whether I should just sit on my butt and watch House Hunters. I think you know what the answer will be.

Somewhere, J.Lo weeps.

Hold the phone - Ben and Jen got married this week? And nobody told me?! What's this world coming to?!!

"I love women. I do. I love the way they smell."

A quick update: The fucktards at Unemployment still haven't investigated my claim. According to my union rep, they are required to contact you within two weeks.

On July 8th, it'll be two months.

Happy 4th of July, people! It's a gorgeous day here and I'm hoping to get out and about for some of it. Of course I will be spending this evening with a nebbishy, neurotic actor-type, a cranky, foul-mouthed 70-something, and an infinitely patient, George Costanza-like instructor at my Microsoft Word class. Bring on the hyperlinks! As much as I bitch, I must admit that it's nice to learn something new. I haven't had to use my brain for much (Tom and Katie info not withstanding) and it feels good to stretch it. I was thinking on the plane ride home that I want to explore some new hobbies but I can't for the life of me think of any. I'm hoping for something crafty but inexpensive. My friend Nadia (Hi, Nadia!) takes all sorts of cool, artsy classes (book making, calligraphy) and I'd love to do something along those lines but I don't have the scratch. ("Scratch" totally needs to make a comeback. As does "toots" and "trim". And those T-shirts from the 70's that said "A Woman Without A Man Is Like A Fish Without A Bicycle".)

By the way, does anyone have a copy of Dianetics? I'm desperate to read it, simply so I have more ammunition for my Scientology-fueled rants but I don't want to add any more money to their coffers. I've thought about taking one of the "Stress Tests" they're always offering but I'm scared that somehow they'll penetrate my brain. They're tricky and I'm fairly weak-minded.

Have the best 4th ever!

Can I come to your barbeque?

Somebody's GOT to be having a b-b-q this weekend that I can crash! This whole "no barbeques on the balcony" b.s. chaps my hide. I live in a city where prostitution, crack, and grilling burgers are illegal. I have no problem with the illegality of crack, but burgers and whores should be free!

It's beautiful today. I'm stuck inside catching up on two weeks of missed Microsoft Word homework. Took me almost SEVEN HOURS last night. No one should have to spend seven hours dinking away on a computer unless they're getting paid time and a half. I just finished my midterm which was "open book and computer". (Do Google searches count as "open computer"? I say yes!) Now I'm going to the gym to try and erase two weeks worth of Midwestern cooking. I have never been surrounded by so much food! Americans throw food at grief and my mouth was happy to catch it. Gooey Butter Cake, burgers and shakes at Steak and Shake (it's healthy because it's steak! Right?), POUNDS of potato salad (one day, three different people brought it). Matt's aunt JoAnn puts bacon grease in everything. Even her carrot cake has lard. This makes everything exceptionally delicious but by the end of the visit I was getting winded going up the stairs.

Hope everyone has a decadant, delightful, delicious 4th. Pat a dog and eat some pie for me.

Home Sweet Home

Sorry to up and abandon this so quickly but I had to take an emergency flight to St. Louis to be with Matt's mom, Shirley, during her final weeks. To say that I'll miss her doesn't begin to cover it.

Tomorrow I'll get back to the usual bitching and moaning.