Saturday, December 28, 2002

He likes to show his dominance by bobbing his head, and once he attacked his reflection in the coffee table and peed on it.

Tuesday, December 24, 2002

Once more, Savage Love has a winner column this week. Holiday sex. Here's an excerpt:

Last year, I moved to Seattle, away from my friends and family. As I left work on Christmas Eve, the homeless people were having a trash-can-fire, plastic-bottle-liquor hoedown on University Avenue. I figured "What the hell?" and decided to join in. I wound up sharing a bottle of cheap vodka with one particularly attractive homeless girl. My judgment eroded, I invited her back to my apartment. Before I could protest, she invited two of her friends to join us.

My Christmas Eves until this point in my life had been Norman Rockwell-esque clich├ęs. This particular year, I had an all-night drunken orgy with three homeless girls. We fucked our brains out, baked cookies naked, and fucked some more. When I woke up in the early afternoon, the girls were gone. So were my wallet, most of my food, my toiletries, and my CDs.
Finally I Love The Holidays

Because my sister and her now fiance are spending Christmas in Ohio with his family, we had a mini gift opening the other night. One of my gifts was Live from New York: An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live. I really shouldn't review it since the fuckers at Little Brown wouldn't send me a comp copy, but whatever. Some pretty funny anecdotes in there. John Belushi used a lot of coke. Chevy Chase is the world's biggest asshole ("...when he got to one of our female writers, he made some reference like, 'Maybe you can give me a hand job later.'"). Steven Seagal is a psycho ("He had this idea that he's a therapist and he wanted Victoria Jackson to be his patient who's just been raped. And the therapist says, 'You're going to have to com to me twice a week for like three years,' because, he said, 'that's how therapists fucking are. They're just trying to get your money.' And then he says that the psychiatrist tries to have sex with her.")

It's an oral history, so we don't get a lot of things they find embarassing, like when Elvis Costello stopped playing halfway through his first appearance and played "Radio Raido." And very little about anyone that makes them look bad, which was probably a condition of secring the interviews. Very uncritical. Comedy fifth wheels like Tim Meadows and Will Farrell are praised as being great utility men. Nary a word about how shitty the movies they've all made have been. Still, some entertaining shit.
On this visit home, met the new addition to the family. Emma. If I had server spce, I'd post a picture. Actually, she sort of represents an idea I've had for a while; baby labs. I figured if one could do a bonsai thing on a lab and keep them puppy size for life, one could make a fortune. Well, Emma is a mutt, but looks like a black lab about six months old, and will never grow bigger. Very cut, lots of personality. She's having trouble ajusting to the idea of other children, but we'll all be gone soon, so she should be okay. It's funny watching her chew on the other dog.
My older sister got engaged the other night. Thought we'd never be rid of her. I'm glad I live on the west coast, which means I'll be able to avoid pretty much the whole wedding thing until I show up. They're talking about May. Seems a little soon, but I guess she's been waiting a long fucking time.
Merry Christmas. Bitches.

Sunday, December 22, 2002

Just a reflection on Lord of the Rings. I like how every third member of the largely New Zealand crew have names like James "Budgie" North or Henry "Axe" Slade. For me, at least, it conjures an image of a gang from the Road Warrior, sitting in a room full of computers, dressed in eye patches, football shoulder pads and leather aviator helmets, yelling shit like, "Oi! Skunk! Geddof yar arse an animate 'at fuckin' orc, eh!"

Friday, December 20, 2002

I'm so tired. I was on a plane next to a screaming baby. The mother stood in the aisle to rock the brat, so every time someone walked by, they'd have to bump me and wake me up.

Thursday, December 12, 2002

A friend was confiding in me the other day. Always a bad idea. Apparently things aren't going well with this guy she's seeing. They won't be seeing each other for a week, because a friend of his, a girl, is visiting from El Paso. This is their last chance to see each other before she has to return to Texas to serve federal time for cocaine dealing. My friend asked if I thought the guy was lying. I said, of course not. I mean, who would make that up. Then, I though, it's brilliant. I want to start dating someone just so I can spin such a web of lies.

Tuesday, December 10, 2002

Vicar tells children 'Santa is dead'

A vicar has apologised for telling children at a Christmas carol service that Santa Claus was dead.

He also told the congregation at St Mary's Church in Maidenhead it was impossible for so many presents to be delivered in such a short space of time.

The Reverend Lee Rayfield, of nearby St Peter's Church, has now admitted he made a terrible mistake.

He based his sermon on joke scientific research from the internet and says it was meant as a bit of fun for older children who already knew Santa did not exist.

He added: "I made a serious misjudgment of the ages of the children. I did not realise how young some of them were and I am sitting here now wondering how I managed not to realise.

"Even when I was there, I did not twig. I am mortified and appreciate I have put some parents in a difficult position with a lot of explaining to do. I love Christmas."

Mr Rayfield's comments came from a joke story that circulated on the internet earlier this year on how scientific research would dispel the myth of Santa.

It says Santa would have to deliver 378 million presents to 91.8 million homes in 31 hours. To do it, he and the reindeer would have to travel 3,000 times the speed of sound.

It says the reindeer would be vaporised within 4.26 thousandths of a second and Santa would be killed by 4,315,000 pounds worth of force.

Mr Rayfield is now writing a letter to parents apologising for the incident.

Story filed: 11:39 Tuesday 10th December 2002

Thursday, December 05, 2002

Congratulations to the New York Post's Cindy Adams, usually the fifth wheel of Page Six, for today's all James Bond Special.

December 5, 2002 -- Call it trivia. Bond trivia

SO, despite James Bond approaching Medicare, this new "Die Another Day" job was his biggest opening weekend ever. So it brings up 007 lore:

Wardrobe folk claim Pierce Brosnan gained a bit during filming. "We had to let out his pants," said one. "We were calling the shoot, 'Diet Another Day.' "

A while back a private light-aircraft pilot thought Pierce, his passenger, could fly because, the figuring was, if 007 can, then surely Brosnan can. Well, he can't. The pilot offered the controls, asking: "Want to land it?" And the hero-for-hire said: "No, thanks, you can land it."

Anyone know a London crook once used Sean Connery's stolen credit card for a sting? Posing as his rep the sticky-fingered - or goldfingered or whatever fingered he was - con guy hit a New Burlington Street gallery and bought some $300,000 trinket. Scotland Yard eventually nailed him. Double-oh-seven did not.

Connery. Terrified of spiders. The famous "Dr. No" shot of the spider in his bed was first done with glass between him and Spidey, redone with a stunt man then re-redone with a mechanical bug. Still, scaredy Sean suffered a panic attack.

Connery's mechanical tarantula sold at Christie's Bond memorabilia auction for $3,200. Oddjob's hat netted $32,000. "Diamonds Are Forever" fakes went for as much as the real thing - $8,000 a stone. Bullets engraved with "007" from "The Man With the Golden Gun" brought $350 each.

Anyone know Bond's dad was christened Andrew, mom's maiden name was Monique Delacroix, he graduated Eton, Dr. No's first name was Julius, Harold Sakata ("Goldfinger's" Oddjob) won a silver medal in the '56 Olympics light heavyweight weightlifting class, and 1989's "License to Kill" was titled "License Revoked" until a survey showed only 20 percent of the unwashed knew what "revoked" meant.

Anyone know when HRH Prince Andrew made the same Commander rank as his movie hero, he began driving an Aston Martin sports car and kept telling friends: " 'Call me James Bond' and 'I've got a license to thrill.' "

Workers toiling in the Santa Monica home of Lois Chiles, who was 007's "Moonraker" playmate were subsequently handed her 8x10s with, "Hi, I'm Holly Goodhead." They were delighted. They sensed she was a bit of a someone but none could figure who or what.

More. I'm in the mood. Ian Fleming had his hero work at an ornate Empire desk but his modest bookshelf held "Modern Fundamentals of Golf" by Ben Hogan, Tolstoy's "War and Peace" with a gun concealed in the binding which went off if you pressed the end of the spine and "The Bible Designed to be Read as Literature" with its middle hollowed out for a Walther PPK 7-65mm automatic. Also Bond likes drumming, calypso, Wagner and "La Vie en Rose" whilst in the throes of romance.

This is the 40th anniversary of Bond movies. Maurice Binder, who created the film's logo, willed the memorabilia to his niece, New York p.r. gal Joanne Binder. She's been offered big money. She refuses to sell.

And Timothy Dalton hasn't "had one martini since I left playing 007. I'm sick and tired of that same wisecrack in every bar: 'Oh, shaken not stirred, eh?' "
Someone get me an address so I can send them my headhsot and resume.

Jerry Springer Opera Gets London World Premiere
Wed December 4, 2002 10:59 AM ET

LONDON (Reuters) - An outrageous opera based on Jerry Springer's lurid talk show is to have its world premiere at Britain's National Theater.
"It is exactly the kind of work the National should be doing: bold, scabrous, funny and beautiful," the National Theater's new director Nicholas Hytner said Wednesday.

In concert form, "Jerry Springer: The Opera" was one of the biggest hits at this year's Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Now it is to be given a full-scale production in London next April.

British composer Richard Thomas joined forces with comic writer Stewart Lee for an irreverent take on the American talk show that has become a worldwide hit with such programs as "Pregnant by a Transsexual" and "Here Come the Hookers."

Among the opera's showstoppers are a diaper fetishist confessing all to his true love, a dance routine by the Ku Klux Klan and Jesus launching into a swearing tirade against the Devil.