So recently Grant O’brian, or as I prefer to call him my tall glass of water, told the world of his woman woes and blah, blah, blah. Because really woe is he who attended a university in which the female to male ratio is 63 to 1. NYU should be called Vagina. Especially Tisch, and then you have to factor in the gays so that leaves about 9 straight men and I’ve already got 3 1/2 in my comedy group so I’m really SOL, because I don’t mix work and play. Except for when Kyle and I had that strictly sexual relationship before the name thing got weird. Then I left him for a two year relationship with Pete, which ended when he discovered me in bed with Nick which had been going on for like ever and they were both crying because I had two-timed them and they were all like, “Ahh, we are so in love with you because you’re like a goddess and we’re mere mortals” or whatever, and then I had sex with Grant last night, but that’s all in the past an completely irrelevant. And anyways the rest of the other straight dudes are half way to gay, or prettier than me.So back to the NYU’s urban community of 25,000 horny white girls ready to pounce on the first sensitive, moderately attractive man drunk enough to bed her. So really Grant doesn’t need a “plan”, just stronger liquor. I mean that’s how I got Pete, and now look, we make clean, un-awkward comedy together… sort of. And you know it’s ok to be out of the game for awhile, because it gives one a chance to work on business or spring cleaning or Migs and I started this puzzle that’s a picture of all these dogs and we aren’t nearly done, and then you’re not bothered by the really annoying caress of a strong beautiful man, or the feeling of love from another…uh, uh, can we just say o-ver-ated! It’s great you know like your lying in the warm sun, in like an arid dessert, and then vultures start circling your simmering body because you can die from celibacy and there’s nothing for miles, not even a mirage because that’s for dreamers, and all you can hear is the Beyonce’s song, “Me, Myself, and I” on repeat for what feels like a eternity.But enough about that, back to Grant and his plan to tap Ellen Page. While on the surface this may seem like a good choice (Oscar nominated actress and Chuck Taylor’s), but it has been speculated, by like everyone in the world that Ms. Page is a lesbian. Now I don’t like to jump to conclusions but let’s just say she is for sure into chicks. Then I think it’s safe to say that Grant is barking up the wrong bush. Even though the thought of Grant dressing up like a girl to become Ellen Page’s lesbian lover makes me giggle. I’m not laughing at lesbians, more like I’m laughing with them, you know because I’m all in support of women who like other women sexually. I mean I did attend NYU Tisch school of the Vagina so I’m definitely all about female empowerment, I mean look I’m a girl, go me. And as far as the feminist stuff goes, a big yes from me to that, like women shouldn’t be barefoot and pregnant, they just you know shouldn’t speak unless spoken to.
I Know Who Killed Me: A Mulit-genre, Post-modern, Surrealist, Avant-Garde look into Fantom limb/indentical twin occurencesApril 3rd, 2008
Want a film that involves thriller, satire, dramady, melodrama, sci-f, and funny camera angles? Look no further than the epic “I Know Who Killed Me”, starring and co-starring none other than the illustrious Lindsey Lohan, or as her friends call her Lilo. I know what you’re thinking because I thought it to, “Lindsey Lohan a cultural movement? Didn’t she run over someone twice?” And that may be true, but Lindsey has been preparing for this role ever since she was a mere babe, no pun intended. When she was younger she starred opposite (get ready for it)… herself! in the remake of the ol’ classic, “The Parent Trap”, never knowing that this identical twin role would prepare her for the hailing role of her life. Playing the precocious twelve year old’s trying to get their estranged parents back together was easy as pie compared to playing the multi-dimensional character’s of Aubrey Flemming and Dakota Moss. I really hope she chose those names. But let’s face it not even piercing her own ears by herself playing her twin who had to inturn play her could never truly prepare her for the personal journey she would have to explore whilst diving into yet again not one character but 2. Without giving away the plot line, since there are about 19, LiLo had to get to know what it’s like to experience stripping, loosing limbs for no reason, and writing interesting weekly papers for her highschool English class. As well as deal with the constant reoccurrence of the color Blue, obviously referencing the French film trilogy, “Trois Couleurs: Bleu”, and paying homage to “The Glass Menagerie” paralleling the blue roses with Aubrey/Dakota’s impending Pluerosis outbreak. Class act, this one is. Some say she’s the next Ann Margaret, I don’t know if that’s what I would say, but I think hoped up on whatever LiLo was when she agreed to do this movie, I might say she resembles Anne Margaret, from behind. Kind of like how I resemble Bette Midler from behind at all the gay bars. I mean how does one actually express the respect or lack of one must have for the best worst cinematic masterpiece of 2007? Twists and turns at every bend. Brilliance. What I hope for the most is that Lilo went into the scriptwriters and infront of her manager pitched something to this effect, “So I want to play a sexy character but also a real smart one whose still sexy but who writes chilling stories, and there should be blood, sexy blood, but still retain an artsy indy pendy quality. And I want a hot guy to take his shirt off so there’s a fake love/killer triangle, and I should play an instrument to show I’m musical despite what my last record sounded like, you know like the trumpet or the recorder, something sexy like that. And I am totally comfortable with my body image and self-worth so I think that I should show that somehow, like in a sex scene but I’m disfigured. But remember keep it smart, but sexy, and gritty, but funny, but not, and keep it so it kind of makes you scream and cry all at the same time. Yea so write that.” And so “I know who killed me” was born or hatched. Watch it and be amazed, I’m sure Lilo was.
So let’s face it, beware of my poor use of all electronics, sans the clicker (the TV remote for all you who don’t get the street slang), and apparently my execessive use of, you guessed it, the comma. But really this is suposed to be fun, I get to tell the world my innermost thoughts and have them broadcasted over the web and saved forever, embalezzened in the hearts of all who read it, much like that of Anne Frank. I’m also realizing this doohicky doesn’t have spellcheck which will be a problem, and that my Mother is the first person to comment on our website.So this picture was taken of me the first time I watched Grant O’Brian and Nick Kocher make out, it threw me for a loop at first but then I just laughed and laughed and laughed some more.Other than that I like to laugh at my best friend Lo, who when we flew to Mexico and it was raining outside she asked if they were washing the plane.So what are blogs for, well I guess to tell about your day. So here we go, after wathching the Simpsons movie last night my fabulous gay roomate, Miguel, and I decided to have a day of inspiration. So as we sang “Spider Pig” down the street as we went to a new yoga studio in Brooklyn called Namaste, which in Yoga means salute to the sun. After a slightly boring but nonetheless fruitful yoga sesh, we sat and had rose hip tea and discussed nutritional eating habbits. I felt this was a good segway into the issue of “letting go” in Yoga and the passing of wind, so I began telling the other women and Migs about how this dude farted so loud the other day in another yoga class I was in. They were only somewhat amused. Then I asked if we could use the sauna downstairs. We did, Migs and I, and spoke only in Mafia voices like we were in Goodfellas, talking about who we’d whacked this past week, I said I had Lilo whacked and Migs said he whacked Ann Coulter. Then we came back to our little apartment, drank wine and Jameson and danced the night away to Carol King in our poncho’s. But don’t call us Will and Grace just because I have red hair and Migs is gay, because we are younger, hipper, hotter, and I’m not having his baby.