Kevin Charnas

Casa Charnas-Bezek Is For Sale...

2008-05-16T16:08:00.000-07:00

Or, Casa Bezek-Charnas. Or...Casa Charzek-Benas. Or Casa Charbez-Eenek. Or Casa Harness-CheeseWhiz. Or Casa Charbroiled-Bean-Burrito. Or...Oh shit, I dunno.

We're selling the crib.

Yep. The gays are moving on up.

There is no way that I can listen to The Jefferson's theme song and not be happy. And I ALWAYS sing along. I can't help it. And I do it with a bit of fervor, I might add. George and Ouisee would've been proud of me.

But, anyway...Back to what I was saying. We're selling our place. So, I guess technically, we're not moving anywhere at the moment...just selling.

Will and I have talked at great length over the last few years about relocating. And of course, we decide to do it when the market has never been worse.

We talked about Santa Fe and Taos, New Mexico.

We talked about Massachusetts.

We talked about the Hudson River Valley of New York.

We even talked about Paris and Buenos Aires.

We would like a house with a yard. And Will could really use a bigger studio for his work. And we just can't afford that here.

Well, we've decided for the time being, on the fair city of Cleveland, Ohio. (The who, what, when, why, where, come-hither-tither-mister-sister-titty-twister to come later.)

If you'd like to see our home's listing, please feel free.

The tour gives you a very good idea of mine and Will's home. And I'm extremely proud of the work that Will has done. He always says, "We", which is kind of him. But, in reality, it's "He". He did the work.

When Will moved in quite a few years ago, there was cat-pissed soaked carpet throughout. Which believe it or not, DIDN'T cost extra! I know...

He has since replaced the flooring, done Venetian plaster on the walls and glazed ceilings in the Master Bedroom and Master Bathroom. He tiled the kitchen counters and replaced the sink with a black, granite flat-bottom one. He added a wall with an arched window sectioning the kitchen off. And he tiled the fire place and mantle. He tore out horrendous florescent light boxes and completely remodeled our bathrooms and updated lighting fixtures throughout the joint.

Speaking of joints, with the whole selling and moving thing, I think I'm going to need one. Or five. Or ten. So, please pass it if you have it.

In the meantime, mi Casa Charbroiled-Bean-Burrito su Casa Harness-CheezeWhiz.

Kylie Minogue - In Your Eyes

2008-05-16T14:22:00.000-07:00

TKIF! TKIF!!

Thank Kylie it's Friday.

To Gong Or Not To Gong...

2008-05-15T11:15:00.000-07:00

So, a couple of weeks back, I received a phone call from Chris Bearde. Or more specifically, Chris's wife, Carolyn.

Just in case you don't know who Chris Bearde is (because I didn't either). Let me give you the shizz.

He's worked as a writer on such shows from

(that's Ruth Buzzi, Goldie Hawn and Henry Gibson, in case you're wondering...)

(and the brilliant Jo Anne Worley)

"Laugh-In"!!! to "Li'l Abner" to

"The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour". (Cher when she was still...human.)

And has been a producer to Jonathon Winters, Sonny and Cher, Andy Williams and...

Elvis...ELVIS!!!

"ONE FOR THE MONEY! TWO FOR THE SHOW! THREE TO GET READY NOW...BBRRRRRRRRPHHTT!!! Oh...sorry 'bout that, baby...Excuse me, little mama. BBRRRRRPPHHHTTTTT...Oh baby! Sorry, 'bout that..."

He produced three years of the first syndicated variety series The BOBBY VINTON SHOW" with his partner Chuck Barris.

He created, produced and sold the format for

"THE GONG SHOW" with Chuck Barris as well.

He produced network specials with MICHAEL JACKSON, DINAH SHORE, DIANA ROSS, THE OSMONDS, LUCILLE BALL, DICK CLARK and produced several BOB HOPE SPECIALS.

Okay...So what if he's almost dead. I mean, who isn't? But, couldn't you just DIE???

I could die.

No, really...COULDN'T YOU JUST DIE????

I! COULD! DIE!

I had no idea who he was. None. And I performed for him...ohhhh...did I.

I still have marks.

Quite a few months ago, I performed in front of him and two other judges for a local telethon to raise money for a local charity. It was fun and always good experience.

Afterwards, when I arrived home, I did a search on his name, which I was spelling wrong. I kept finding some blues guitarist, which clearly wasn't him. So, I just thought, WHO is this guy?? He's probably some local theater director dude I haven't heard of and all these neurotic actors are all worked up about him, like a bunch of coked-up trannies at a wig festival.

Well, his wife called the next mega-star that they wished to work with,

to see if the jackass would perform the same bit on a pilot for a radio show that they're going to be doing. I said, of course I would and was looking forward to it.

When she emailed me the information, I realized that I was spelling his name wrong. So, when I spelled it correctly, I found something very different. All the shizz that you read above and then some.

And they called little ole me...

COULDN'T YOU JUST DIE??

I could die.

And at this moment, you're probably wishing I would.

So anyway, I performed a character for him that I actually received an award for in New York about 5 years ago. I have since written a one-person play based on this character that you may remember me talking about.

I've finished with the last of the major edits to the play and am trying to motivate myself to get it up on its feet. You may remember that I've been offered a theater in North Hollywood to perform it in, which is very cool. However, just between me, you and the woodwork, I'm so tired of the fucker I could spit. I often want to burn it.

Well, before I get too far off, I wanted to share with you the one minute monologue that I performed for Mr. Bearde. The piece is taken from a larger text that was written by Danny Hoch, who's a brilliant poet, writer and actor in New York. We had to add to it a slight introduction and conclusion (like book-ends) in order to make it a one minute bit and something that made a little sense without the whole piece. I hope that you enjoy it.

And here it is:

Kevin, "I have this friend "Blanca"...And she's rather difficult to describe...She's..."

Blanca, "You know my roommate Lemington??

I know, his name is 'Lemington', that's weird, right?

So, you know he gay, right? And if you saw Lemington, you'd be like, "Oh my god...that guy is SO gay." But, if you saw his boyfriend, you'd be like, "Oh my god, that guy is NOT gay." 'Cause he's like 6 foot 4 and all muscular and everythang.

So, anyway, we be gettin' along, 'cept fo this one time, it was like 7 in the mornin', I'm gettin' ready to go to work, I'm sittin' there eatin' my breakfast and I look up and HE IS WEARING MY SKIRT!!

I was like, 'LEMINGTON!! WHAT YOU DOIN' WITH MY SKIRT??'

And he was all like, 'Oh...that's YOUR skirt?'

And I was like, 'Yeesss...that's my skirt, Lemington...Where you got it??'

And he goes, 'In the closet.'

And I was all, 'Well...huh...

That would happen-to-be MY closet,
which would happen-to-be in MY room,
so that would happen-to-be, DING!! MY SKIRT!!!' RIGHT???

I was like, 'LEMINGTON!! YOU CAN'T BE WEARIN' MY SKIRT!!'

So he starts CRYIN', RIGHT?? AND HE'S ALL, 'FINE!! I WON'T WEAR IT!!'

But, he's sweet though...He got me this cute shirt with all these pictures of famous womenz on it like, Clara Barton and Nefertiti and Mother Teresa is on the shirt. And he gives it to me and he goes to me, 'REJOICE IN YOUR WOMANHOOD, BLANCA!! BE GOOD TO YO-SELF, 'CAUSE YOU A WARRIOR, GIRL!!'

I was like...'He just called me a "warrior"...What is this? Like some black gay thing or somethin'? What? I picture myself running through the jungle with a machine gun goin', 'LOOK OUT!! IT'S BLANCA COMIN'!!"

Kevin, "And that's my friend, "Blanca"."

*********

The piece is always a blast to perform. Chris laughed a lot. And I'm flattered that he remembered me. He told me that I was rather, "Unforgettable". I told him that my mother says the exact same thing on a regular basis, but with less affection.

He laughed some more, which was flattering as well...

And I'm just glad that I didn't get...You know,

gonged.

Black History With Grandma Bell

2008-05-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

"There was a horse...a bartender...and a gloryhole..."

Rolling In Poppies

2008-05-11T10:04:00.000-07:00

You may remember me talking last year about the best seat in the house on Mother's Day? Well, obviously, I still feel that way. And I often feel more numb with each passing day that I remain so far away from my Mom.

So, it's Mother's Day here in the States. And as far as I'm concerned, everyday should be "Mother's Day". Or at least one day a week...or every other week...or at least once a month. All of us celebrating our Mothers with an awareness on a regular basis, whether they're still physically with us or not.

And actually, I'm not sure that many of us don't already do that in some way.

But, anyway, whether you're a mom or not, and whether you're fortunate enough to be celebrating with your mom or not, I hope that your mothers are happy and feeling loved today, no matter where they are... I hope that they know how much they're loved, as I love mine.

And I hope that they're as joyful and content as rolling naked in a field of poppies...minus the dirt, bees and ants. But, just basking in a peace and freedom.

"Girl In Poppies" by William Bezek. Oil on canvas (Private collection)

Everything

2008-05-08T06:01:00.000-07:00

A little over a month ago, between mine and Will's family, we lost a cousin, an uncle, a horse and a dog. All of them were loved by us.

The cousin and uncle I hadn't seen in a long, long time. Their images from years ago are frozen in my mind, completely still, in time. I can remember their youthfulness and while my mind remembers their images, my heart can still feel their good nature. Their quick wit and easy, infectious laughter...And there they shall stay, in my heart.

The horse and the dog, Will and I saw and loved daily, regularly, over at Will's folks' place. I remember the deep, dark glow of Shiloh's glossy eyes (the horse, not Brad and Angelina's kid) staring back at me, trusting me...

And I can still feel the immense, unconditional love of Judah's eyes...The rescue dog that Will's mom had...I couldn't get enough of mashing my forehead to his and telling him how much I loved him, how much we all loved him. He was ALWAYS a big, wagging, lovely, ottoman of a lab. Yes, you read right, he was like an ottoman. A big, furry, wagging ottoman. The kind you put your feet up on to rest, not the kind that invaded the Balkan peninsula.

I shed tears over all of these souls. And at night, after I knew that Will had fallen into slumber, I would cry myself to sleep, aching that I wouldn't see those truly awesome muscles in Shiloh's neck again, and feel his trust. Or feel that soft fur of Judah's head upon my own, and feel his love. Both felt undeserved.

I've been reluctant to write this post, because I didn't want to cry anymore...like I'm doing right now...

But something prompted me to...Furious has lost his father. I'm devastated for him and his family.

And even though I know that death is as natural as birth, sometimes I'm paralyzed at the thought of how temporary it all is.

I don't subscribe to any one religion. I think that to imagine that god, or the universe, or creation, whatever you want to call it, could fit into one, into anything that the limited human mind can conjure up is ludicrous.

However, I do study philosophy from many different religions and disciplines. And I contemplate at great length on my own ideas.

They change and evolve, sometimes dissolve and transform again with the seasons. I ponder and wonder and meditate of what it's all about and most of the time, I'm okay with what I don't know.

But one thing that I do know, is that the word "nothing" is hypocrisy. There is no such thing as nothing. There is always something.

And by the very nature of science, energy and matter is always changing...always transforming...But the fact remains, that it's always there.

Whether it's water, which we're mostly made up of, that evaporates and gathers into the sky as vapor and clouds only to rain, or snow, or hail down upon the earth again. Or whether it's electricity that is fleeting in the form of lightening, or static. Or whether it's literally mulch, a ground up tree, feeding the earth and the plants and other trees, becoming part of them...

It all goes on. It always does. And the story is always, continued.

I wrote the below poem quite a while back, when I was suffering from the Wilson's disease and wasn't aware of it yet. It was as though something in me knew that I was dying... And Will has illustrated a collection of my work and hopefully one day, we'll publish it together. So, his illustration follows the poem. I hope that you enjoy both.

THE FAMILIAR BREEZE AND THE KNOWING TREES...

The rain that falls upon my face
One drop after another,
It is cold and it is wet,
My body emits a shudder.

The sidewalk that is slate I think,
Concrete, or maybe stone,
It really doesn’t matter
For I walk here all alone.

All streets become familiar
And to my soul they feel
As though I’ve walked upon them,
Stood still or did so kneel.

In any difference of this place
Or that one that I was,
A solitary figure,
Alone…that’s what it does.

Place to place and
Time and time some more,
It’s me who moves alone again
Along this fine ole’ floor.

If I walk, or if I run,
Or if I fly through air,
I do it by myself so much,
Do I feel despair?

This bird is see, the grass I feel,
The flowers that I smell,
The breeze that does blow by my lips,
This is who I tell,

Of secrets that I have
And dreams that I do hold.
No one to hear, but winds blow by
And this is whom I’ve told.

As years go by and my heart grows weak,
And ears, they come and go,
My one true love will still be there,
The wind will always blow.

Place to place and time moves on,
My shell begins to wither.
I’m near the end, my love does come
To hear my last good whisper.

By my lips the wind does move,
And picks up my last song.
The last I fear that you will hear from me
Now that I’m gone.

And so I die, or so it seems
And now I’m truly dust.
My love does come and carry me
Through trees and sky, it must.

And now I am apart of them,
Alone I shall not be,
The wind that does blow by your face,
Please smile, ‘cause it’s me.

Step-Ball-Step

2008-05-07T19:02:00.000-07:00

So, last night I dreamt that some blind woman kept stepping on my balls.

1. I have no idea why I was lying on the floor, clothed, but with my legs spread apart. (Besides being a hussy, I have no other reason to have been doing that. I know, I know, being a hussy should be reason enough.)

2. Nor do I have any idea as to why this blind woman didn't REALIZE that she was at least stepping on SOMETHING...My balls aren't THAT small. The Bish. Maybe she thought they were cantaloupes. Or maybe she couldn't feel her extremities. I think it's more probable that she thought they were cantaloupes.

3. AND I have no idea why I didn't just tell her, "HEY, LADY!! YOU'RE STEPPIN' ON MY F-ING BALLS!! YOU AND YOUR GOD DAMN CANE SHOULD GO TRAMPLE SOMETHING ELSE!!"

And before one of you say that I liked it, and THAT'S why I didn't say anything, I didn't. Okay?

Not even a little.

Okay, maybe a little.

Sally Field - Boning Eva

2008-05-07T14:23:00.000-07:00

Why can't all of the bullshit advertising for pharmaceuticals be like this??

HUH?? WHY CAN'T IT??

Sally boning Eva. Heh. That's dirty.

"Oh yeah...Eva like Momma Sally doing that? Huh? Yeah? Eva like? YOU NAUGHTY, DIRTY BIRD!! EVA'S GONNA GET A SPANKIN'!!...WELL, YOU WILL JUST AS SOON AS THIS PILL KICKS IN AND TAKES CARE OF MY FUCKING ARTHRITIS, YOU DIRTY, DIRTY BIRD!!"

what the hell is wrong with me?

Fritz Haeg Is A Total Badass

2008-05-06T05:38:00.000-07:00

There are many things that I love the English for; The Sandwich being one of them and John Montagu, the Fourth Earl of Sandwich.

Or Earl Grey tea. And we can thank Charles Grey (Second Earl), who was a British diplomat on a mission to China for this lovely blend.

And of course I love the English for

David Beckham and what he does with balls. He can bend them...Yeah.

However, what I'm not quite that fond of that we've imported from the English have been our lawns. It's not really that I dislike beautiful green lawns. It's that I dislike the amount of energy, water and chemicals that go into treating a present day American lawn.

THAT, I not only dislike, I...I...STRONGLY dislike it!

So, there. And why so STRONGLY do I dislike it you ask? Well: Grass Cutting Beats Driving in Making Air Pollution for one.

And then, add in the amount of water and Chem-lawns to eradicate weeds and other "pests", and then weed-whackers and leaf blowers...It just strikes me as not only ridiculous, but destructive and toxic.

Somewhere along the lines, I think that some people have forgotten that the "Environment" is not a separate entity from us. And it's truly more our home than the houses we construct and inhabit.

Growing up, I often thought that we should just let ivy, or some other ground cover fill in the lawn. Or better yet, just plant more trees.

We rarely really used our lawn. For Frisbee occasionally, or tossing the football. My family occasionally used to have a football game in the backyard on Thanksgiving Day. And I understand having a little bit of lawn for recreation.

I don't understand polluting in order to do so, though.

In the United Kingdom, they're one thing. And the climate there can certainly support them. But, when I see the amount of lawns out here in the West, where most of the climates are dry and desert-like, it's just ludicrous to me.

Well, anyway,

Fritz Haeg is a total badass because he's declared war on America's lawns. And he wants to replace them with "edible garden estates". Hence, his Edible Estates Gardenlab project.

And not only has it succeeded in people growing and enjoying their own organic food, it's bringing neighbors together in Salinas, Kansas, and Austin, Texas and Baltimore, Maryland and...It's creating community.

And yes, it's "Greener Than Grass".

Will and I look forward to the day when we have a house with a garden to grow our own food. We're in a condo for the moment and we have a patch of patio that measures about 2 feet by 2 feet and is just large enough for us to go out there to take a piss. It keeps the coyotes away. They like really small patios.

So, we're looking forward to one day having a little more space to grow some vegetables and have some fruit trees.

And I've already begun contemplating what type of scarecrow we might have.

I think that something like this would work. No?

***6 ingredients for a green, clean home***

Fitzwilliam's Wish

2008-05-05T14:25:00.001-07:00

When Panic Attacks (Part Dos)

2008-05-03T10:38:00.001-07:00

Well, he DID speak English. And that was his way of telling me so.

As the puke simmered at the back of my throat and the saliva sat in my mouth waiting for its chance to pave the way, and I prepared to scream, "FOR THE LOVE OF GODZILLA, I'M GONNA HURL!!!", he introduced himself.

His name was Tomoki Ikeda and he was my savior.

Or at the very least, he kept me from puking on him.

He exuberantly showed me his Beverly Hills 90210 book and asked me if I watched the show and if America was like that.

I actually don't really care for television so much. And at the time, I didn't even own a T.V. So, I said, "Oh Tomoki, I don't watch that crap."

He looked disappointed, which made me feel bad, so I said, "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I watch it. I watch 90210! I do. And some of America is like that. But, no, not all."

This made him happy, which made me happy, which in turn, made my puke UN-happy, because show-time just got canceled.

So, then he asked me if I ate at McDonald's, which almost made me vomit on the spot. And I said, "Oh Tomoki, I don't eat that crap."

And, he looked disappointed, which also made me feel bad, so I said, "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I do. I eat McDonald's sometimes, but not often."

This made him happy too.

Tomoki Ikeda loved everything "American". Which kind of bummed me out. Here he was coming from this incredible, steeped culture, yet he wanted to be "American". Which our pop culture has always just seemed so fleeting to me.

Ah well, I'm sure that it's somewhat fundamental in the interest of something other than what we know.

Tomoki and I had developed a friendship and he really was a savior that night. We took the bus to the end of the line, then grabbed a cab together to my hotel, which luckily wasn't much further.

He wanted to make sure that I arrived safely at my hotel, going out of his way to do so. He was on his way home to his wife and children, but my piercing blue eyes, strong jaw line and other Adonis-like features led him astray.

He came up to my room, where we put on Kimonos, did each others' nails, and he showed me the land of the rising sun.

NO!! It was our hair we did, not our NAILS!! SILLY!

He just wanted to make certain that I arrived safely at my hotel. And it was truly kind of him.

In the coming time, we would meet for sushi, or drinks, and I would help him with his English and he would help me with Japanese culture. He would even take me sight seeing to neighboring cities.

The friendship was instant. And sincere. There was nothing but curiosity and respect between us. And it was simple and yet, remarkable.

Well, let us flash ahead 14 years leaving Tomoki with Donna Martin and his Big Macs to the other night when I thought my heart was going to blow through my boobs.

I awoke in the middle of the night with my heart racing. I was chilled and had an intense headache. I couldn't catch my breath as it kept leaping all around the room.

I woke up Will and told him what was going on. Where he then, as you know, replied, "It's probably an anxiety attack...Bish."

Nice.

So, unconsciously of course, to get back at him, I began to blow the worst farts EVER. They were awful. So, THEN, I became nauseous, because the stinkers almost made me puke.

(By the way, you may be noticing a pattern here...I puke easily. Which is fine when you have food poisoning. And not so fine when you're at a social event.)

Okay, so back to those horrendous farts. Let's just say, had someone lit a match near my hole, well...

you would've made a wish when you saw me racing against the night sky.

This was not a fun experience for anyone involved. Even the dogs were cross-eyed.

While not being able to catch my breath, I realized at one point, Will was holding my hand telling me to breathe. And it appeared to me like I was in labor.

I realized that my legs were bent at the knees, with the soles of my feet on the bed. Will was holding my hand, instructing me to take deep breaths, which I was.

I was going, "AAA--HHAAAAA, AAA-HHAAAA, AA-HHAAAA,"

I thought, any moment, he's going to yell, "PUSH!! PUSH!!! COME ON!! I SEE THE HEAD!!!"

I thought about telling him to run for blankets and hot water.

Why do they always run for blankets and hot water?? Why don't I ever hear, "HURRY!! GO GET SOME SCISSORS AND A CATCHER'S MIT, YOU WORTHLESS ASS-MEAT! THIS BABY'S GONNA BLOW!!"

No, you never hear that. It's always blankets and hot water.

So, anyway, I was huffing and puffing, my heart was racing, my head was throbbing, I was sweaty, then chilled, blowing big horrible farts and nauseous. Usually, I consider this foreplay, but this time it wasn't.

I scampered into the bathroom to feel the gorgeous cool tile upon my naked body and was looking forward to that cool feeling of lying my face down upon it, even if I came up with a beard of pubes. I didn't care. Again, normally foreplay. This time, not so much.

I ALWAYS look forward to that cool tile where I begin my prayer sessions to god, pleading for help and negotiating my penance before I'm going to puke.

Well, I didn't puke. And Will managed to get me to take some aspirin, which helped with the incredible headache.

I eventually crawled back into bed, pleading with kindness to make me feel better. And soon, but not soon enough, my heart began to slow, the gas continued to blow and I think that we didn't so much fall back to sleep, but we were more likely to have been knocked out...You know...From the toots.

In the morning, I woke up feeling exhausted and rather stunned that I had that episode. There was no baby lying beside me and luckily, I didn't shit the bed.

Besides the event with Tomoki, that was unlike me. But, there's been a lot going on in our lives lately. And I think my body is telling me to keep life in perspective and to live moderation.

Happiness and health of course, go hand in hand. And they're a balancing act. And it was a really humbling reminder for me to stay balanced. Or at least to try to.

Kylie Minogue - In My Arms

2008-05-02T23:00:00.001-07:00

Thank Kylie it's Friday...

When Panic Attacks (Part Uno)

2008-04-30T14:45:00.000-07:00

Well, the other night, I was startled awake at around 3 a.m. with a racing heart. And I mean that fucker was pounding. I was short of breath and chilled. I laid there for a while trying to catch my breath and not panic.

But then, I started to panic, which didn't help matters.

I started to think of a few friends that I've lost over the years to early heart attacks. And even though one was from a drug overdose, the others were from natural causes and so far, I've out-lived them. So, why not me? Why wouldn't I have a heart attack? Who am I to think that I can't at a relatively young age?

So, I woke Will up. I tried not to scream, "I'M FUCKING DYING! I'M FUCKING DYING! MY HEART IS GONNA BLOW FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!! WAKE UP!! WAKE UP!! JESUS CHRIST I'M NOT READY YET!!"

I didn't do that, although I wanted to. I told him what I was experiencing and told him that I didn't know what the hell was going on.

He thought that it was probably a panic attack, "It's probably an anxiety attack...Bish."

There's only been one time I can remember when I really thought that I was going to have a full-fledged panic attack.

Now mini-panic attacks? I encounter those fairly regularly. And as much as I don't really appreciate them, they do keep me "edgy". But, full-fledged anxiety? I've only truly encountered it one other time, and it's the closest I've come to spontaneous combustion.

It was about 14 years ago and I was moving to Osaka, Japan to teach conversational English. I didn't know a soul in the city of Osaka, which at the time was home to 12 million people. And I also barely knew any Japanese.

I knew how to say, "Good Morning!" Which is, "Ohayougozaimasu!"

Which sounds eerily similar to "Ohayou-hows-your-mustache?"

And seeing how I was from Ohio, they thought it was hysterical every time I said, "Good Morning". They used to say, "Ohhh...You from the 'Good Morning' State!" Because "Ohio" is so close to "Ohayou-hows-your-mustache!"

And I knew how to say, "I'm sorry", which is "Gomennasai", which literally translates to, "I beg your pardon". What I SHOULD of said for "I'm sorry" was, "Shitsureishimashita".

Shit-sure-is-him-a-shit-a???

SHIT-SURE-IS-HIM-A-SHIT-A???

ARE YOU KIDDING ME???

That is so fucking money.

I should've been running around the city smacking people in their heads and pulling their hair and bumping them off their feet just so I could exclaim, "SHIT-SURE-IS-HIM-A-SHIT-A!!"

And maybe I could've taken that a step further, because I've been known to do that and continued in my exclamation,"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT. THAT'S WHAT I SAID, SHIT-SURE-IS-HIM-A-SHIT-A!! AND YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE?? WE REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR! YEAH! HOW'S THAT SOUND?? SO, WHO REALLY SHOULD BE YELLING, 'SHIT-SURE-IS-HIM-A-SHIT-A', HUH, MR. TOUGH GUY-KAMIKAZE??"

.....

.....Umm...What the hell just happened? Where was I?

Ok, so, I had just landed in Osaka after an extremely long, arduous flight. I was already strung out on barely any sleep before I left due to the reality that I was SO FREAKED OUT about moving so far away from home.

I was standing there in front of the bus terminal trying to figure out how to use the damn automated ticket system. And I was determined that I wasn't going to take an expensive cab ride to my hotel, so I stood there watching people get their tickets. And when I finally did purchase mine, I had NO IDEA where the hell I was going to. I had NO IDEA if I was even headed in the right direction.

I boarded the crowded bus (with no open windows) dragging my bags behind me and took my seat.

I was the only person of European descent on the bus and so everyone was staring at me. I was too tired to care. Maybe had I had more energy I would've been doing the whole thing of pointing to my eyes with my index and middle finger, then point at them like, "I'm watching you" and mouthing "Pearl Harbor" to them while shaking my head like, "Yeah...".

And then, they would've been like, "Dude. Hiroshima and Nagasaki."

And then, I would've been all, "True, true...Okay, let's be friends."

And then, they would've been like, "Cool."

Or, maybe more like, "Coor."

So, I sat there while the bus meandered into the heart of Osaka, with people staring and sneaking glances at me and whispering to one another, "Rook at that asshore. He has no idea what he is doing. He think he so smaarrt, he foorish American."

Or maybe they were saying, "Rook at that asshore. He rooks rike he's gonna fhrow up."

Which would've been more accurate.

As the bus ride continued, and the bus began to warm, the blinking lights outside and the signs that were appropriately ALL in Japanese seemed to be taunting me, teasing me, "Rook at that asshore. He rooks rike he's gonna fhrow up."

I was exhausted and the bus was still with air and the warm humid smell of people that are too close together.

As the bus continued to its mysterious destination, I began to panic. I started to realize just how far I was from home, knowing not a soul, nor the language, knowing nothing...

I felt my heart begin to race, and I became short of breath and I started to sweat. And I thought, "WHAT...THE FUCK...HAVE I DONE???" Then, I felt the puke rising in my throat.

I was just on the verge of screaming at the top of my lungs, "I'M GONNA BARF! I'M GONNA BARF! I NEED AIR!!"

And they'd probably start cheering back joyfully, "HIS NAME IS BARB! HIS NAME IS BARB! HE NEEDS HAIR!! YYAAAYYY!!!" And then they'd all start fucking clapping.

But no, just as I was about to hurl on 50+ Japanese business men and women, the gentleman next to me nudged me.

I sat there on the verge of projectile vomiting and he nudged me again.

I looked over and he was reading a Beverly Hills 90210 handbook with English subtitles. And he was trying to get me to realize that he was reading it.

I saw him looking out the corner of his eye at me and slightly tilting the book towards me like, "Hey, asshore, rook. I rike Donna Martin."

So, I turned towards him, preparing to spray him with barf and asked, "Do you speak English?" Because, I was going to ask him to tell everyone that I was going to hurl at any moment.

Dina Lohan's Public Service Announcement

2008-04-28T12:45:00.001-07:00

Okay, so last week, I totally almost had a heart attack. And Friday, my really, really hot doctor had to look at my hole and use a blow-torch on my peeper. (You think I'm lying.)

Details at Eleven.

Well, not really eleven, but later. Details later.

My ego is still slightly bruised.

And I'm a little confused.

Because I'm oddly aroused.

Wiener Poopies

2008-04-25T20:09:00.000-07:00

You know what, bitch? You should've been picking up your Wieners' poopies. Then maybe Jesus would've stayed right where he was...

But no, you thought no one was watching...Well, you were wrong.

And now, Jesus had to pay. It's alllwwaaays Jesus that has to pay.

Real nice, lady. Real nice.

Manufacturing Outsourcing In India

2008-04-24T23:25:00.000-07:00

This contribution comes compliments of my Mother-Out-Law, Susan. Thanks, Susan!
Apparently, this is what happens when you outsource the manufacturing of building Harley Davidsons.

The American built version.

And the Calcutta built version.

Fashionista Terrorista

2008-04-24T18:44:00.000-07:00

"Osama Bin Shoppin"

Compliments of our delovely correspondent in the fair city of Cleveland; Tina-Conchita-Consuela-Jon-Benet-Go-Lightly-Baby-Tender-Love-Cherry-Nibble-Cakes. Thanks, Tina! Girlfriend has it goin' on, no? Dang.

Naldo At The Airport

2008-04-23T10:44:00.000-07:00

Celebrating Our Goddess, MOTHER EARTH

2008-04-21T09:22:00.000-07:00

Mother Earth in all her glory.

We're apart of her, this god that we stand on and lie upon and LIVE from. The only god that we KNOW that exists for sure.

We fight and kill and destroy over what we think might be next. And in the meantime, we're living blasphemy upon our Mother...Truly.

But, as destructive as the human can be, we're also capable of IMMENSE love and beauty. And I see it demonstrated often.

One of the biggest favors that I feel that we can do for ourselves is to shed the false constructed reality of our insignificance.

To DE-construct it. Because it's not true.

We make a difference whether we like it or not.

So, I plan to be bold, have faith and courage. And I plan to live my life to my last breath in the hopes that I'll leave this place better.

And I hope that you'll join me. Because I could use some company.

***************
Will and I were talking the other day about how we think that George W. and Dick Cheney, their families AND the entire cabinet and their families should all be sent over to Iraq for the duration of our occupation. I think that sounds fair.

Last Wednesday that asshole George W. was up to his same old stupid bullshit;

"Rather than staking out a set of ambitious goals for America to strive for, the President argued that the United States should do nothing about global warming until 2025. I can't believe he said it with a straight face.

Please sign my petition to President Bush now -- tell him to stand up and join the fight to stop global warming!"

- Senator Barbara Boxer

***************
"Senator McCain wants to raise oil company profits by another 18 cents per gallon -- by eliminating the federal gas tax without guaranteeing that Big Oil won't just keep prices high and take the difference to grow their record profits even more.

That's the same old outdated politics of the past.

If John McCain really wants to put money back in our pockets, he needs to take it out of Big Oil's. That means voting to cut their subsidies and using that money to help build the clean energy economy.

Will you sign the petition to tell Senator McCain to end giveaways to Big Oil and invest in clean, renewable energy?

Senator McCain is not alone. Republican Senators like Mitch McConnell, Pete Domenici and others are blocking efforts to take back billions in taxpayer-funded giveaways to Big Oil in order to invest in clean, renewable energy."

- The Sierra Club

***************
Want to help the Earth and get stuff for FREE?

***************

It's really not; "WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!"

We already do. What kind of difference do you make?

The Killers - Read My Mind

2008-04-20T13:25:00.000-07:00

Everybody now; "I--DON'T--SHINE, IF YOU DON'T SHINE..."

Happy Sunday, my brothers and sisters!

Wherever you are...

Apologies Accepted

2008-04-17T08:48:00.001-07:00

Well, I was rear-ended yesterday on my way home from work. And this time, no booze or porn was involved...Damn it.

The guy in his over-sized truck was driving aggressively on the freeway (surprise) and I really wasn't paying him much attention. Assholes like that used to really piss me off and still occasionally do, but I try to pay them no mind, otherwise I'll be a screaming idiot the entire time I'm on the freeway.

This way, it's just half the time.

So, we both pulled off at the same exit. And then I pulled up to a stop sign and waited to make a right-hand turn with him still behind me. There's a blind spot at that intersection and I was ready to go, but then, there was another car...that appeared from said blind spot.

So, I waited...ironically, to avoid an accident.

And at that very moment, I thought, that jackass is going to think that I already turned and drive right into me...and then he slammed into me. Just like clock-work.

I screamed, "DAMN IT!!". And then, I got out of the car as he was getting out of his truck, fully expecting a fight, I yelled, "NICE GOING!"

Completely disarming me, he exclaimed, "I...AM SO SORRY. IT'S TOTALLY MY FAULT!!" And he meant it. Fully.

I was kind of shocked and wanted to yell. So, I walked around the car and looked at the damage and I asked him if he was okay? He was. He asked if I was okay. I am.

(So, we're dating now.)

I paced back and forth not really knowing what the F to do, so I looked at him and said, "Well, what the F do we do now?"

(So, he took me in his big, strong Latin arms and we started tonguing each other right there.)

I didn't really know who to call...I don't have the numbers to the police in my phone and I dunno, is there an "Operator" anymore? I probably should've called information instead of tying up an emergency line. Well, anyway, I dialed 911 (emergency here in the States) and was immediately put on HOLD.

For 5 minutes. I'm not kidding. I timed it. I just sat there and thought, YOU FUCKERS ARE SO LUCKY THIS ISN'T AN EMERGENCY 'CAUSE I'D BE REALLY PISSED RIGHT NOW IF I WAS DYING AND YOU PUT MY GAY ASS ON HOLD!!!"

HOLD?? That's real nice.

"Hello, 911 Operator... What's that? Your hair is on fire and Osama Bin Laden is standing in your Living Room with your Chihuahua in a choke-hold? Please hold..."

"Hello, 911 Operator... What's that? Slow down, sweety! Now, start from the beginning, you're being shot at in a Nursery School? Are you sure? Sweety, look, how do you expect me to hear you over those gun shots, huh? I know that you're 3, I can hear it in your ridiculous speech patterns. Poopsie? Aren't you a little young to be using the phone? Please hold..." (off phone to another operator) - "Margie, you oughta hear this little asshole talkin' about getting shot at! Me, me, me, MY Lincoln Logs, MY dollies, I'M being shot at...all those 3 year olds are alike. They're SO self-absorbed, Margie."

Anyway, the rest of the story is not that exciting. The poor devil who slammed into me is named Miguel. And he's hot. Which made things a whole lot easier.

Seriously. I'm just pathetic. Before the whole thing was over, I was practically twirling my hair, snapping my gum, blowing on my nails while teetering on my platforms comforting him, "Oh Mickie! It's okay, baby. It's just a stupid-woopid, big ole brute car!! Dumb thing!! They're just ruining the planet anyway!" (turning to the mangled cars) "YOU MUCHO ESTUPIDO CARS!! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!!" (turning back to Miguel) "So...Mickie, honey...with your dark eyes and your jet-black hair, tell me more about what life was like in the Marines while I take our clothes off."

And poor Will. The accident only happened about 1 mile from our home. And I had groceries in the trunk. So, Will came down to pick up the groceries while we waited for the police to arrive, and I just handed them off to him like he was the hired help. I barely even looked at him. I looked back at my love, Miguel and whispered, "The gardener..."

Actually, although his being hot didn't hurt the situation, what truly did make things a whole lot easier, was that he was nice. And apologetic. He messed up and he owned it. And we talked like we had just been introduced by a mutual acquaintance, not a car accident.

So, we sat and while we waited for the police officer to have our three-way, we talked. He's a former Marine and was stationed on the East Coast. I talked about being in the Coast Guard and then we talked about the differences in the climate from the East Coast to the West Coast.

He apologized a few times and said that it was nice to meet me, but he was sorry it was like this. I told him it was okay, while I folded our clothes and stacked them in a pile, lit some candles and poured the wine.

I told him that it didn't matter HOW we met, just that we met.

But honestly, we figured everything out and basically shit just happens sometimes. The intersection isn't a great one, so I'm not that surprised.

What was so refreshing though, was that he was humble. He was honest and humble...and sincere...and big and strong...AND A DARK HUNK OF MANZZ LIKE I NEVER SAW ONE!!! dang.

******
Last Friday at work, I really screwed up. I was in a rush and was careless. And I could've blamed the equipment - the camera (I'm a cameraman), or the sound board or the computer, but I didn't. I'm to blame. I wrote an email to my colleagues and the professor telling them exactly what happened and I apologized.

And it was liberating. I didn't crumble and blow away with the wind.

No one died, so in perspective, it wasn't that serious. But, I still messed up. And hopefully I won't ever do that again.

I've also wanted to tell you about a truly humbling experience that I went through in the last couple of years.

A while ago, I wrote some unintentional, yet mean and nasty things about someone that I deeply care about...a family member. It was a severe displacement of my anger and rage that I've felt and continue to deal with, but the fact remained that I greatly hurt a lot of people in my family. And I was (and am still) deeply ashamed.

My anger was ill-focused in an over-zealous story that went too far.

I have since apologized and honestly, truly meant it from the bottom of my spirit. It's a regret that I'll carry with me always.

However, I learned a great deal about myself from that folly. And it wasn't pretty. And to sincerely own my actions, acknowledge them and humble myself before them was good.

Humility is a good thing. And I hope to practice it as often as I can.

Chicago - Hard To Say I'm Sorry (1982)

This brings me back to Ski Club in High School during the 80's. We'd all be on the bus singing our asses off to Chicago. When I found this video, a commenter thought that Peter Cetera was Willem Dafoe, which just cracks my shit up...which actually isn't a very attractive picture is it? Shit laughing? Yuk.

And why didn't anyone ever tell me that Peter Cetera didn't have an upper lip? Does he have one now?

Eddie Izzard - Cake or Death?

2008-04-16T11:29:00.001-07:00

A little more Izzard brilliance for Mrs. T over at Chucheria.

Eddie Izzard- Death Star Canteen

2008-04-15T13:53:00.000-07:00

So, this lovely contribution comes to us compliments of my extraordinary wife in Georgia; Oh, The Joys. Thanks, OTJ!

This is one of mine and Will's all-time favorite bits that the brilliant Eddie Izzard performs. It's truly nothing short of hysterical.

Eddie Izzard

And here is the actual version with Mr. Izzard himself.

And The Spin Doctors Spin...

2008-04-15T13:46:00.000-07:00

(These are probably old headlines to you, but I've been swamped with work. So, I'm trying to play some catch-up.)

Obama's remarks gives Clinton an opening

What Senator Obama said privately at a fundraiser in San Francisco last Sunday. He was trying to explain his troubles winning over some working-class voters, saying they have become frustrated with economic conditions:

"It's not surprising, then, they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations."

Which is fucking true.

And his response:

"There has been a small "political flare-up because I said something that everybody knows is true, which is that there are a whole bunch of folks in small towns in Pennsylvania, in towns right here in Indiana, in my hometown in Illinois, who are bitter. They are angry. They feel like they have been left behind. They feel like nobody is paying attention to what they're going through.

"So I said, well you know, when you're bitter you turn to what you can count on. So people, they vote about guns, or they take comfort from their faith and their family and their community. And they get mad about illegal immigrants who are coming over to this country."

So, of course Hillary Clinton and John McCain are spinning, misconstruing what he said. Which to me, is truly insulting to the folks that Obama is referring to anyway. Clinton and McCain's camps are counting on the herd hearing what they say that Obama really meant and braying all the way to their own slaughterhouse.

Typical.

I actually thought that Senator Clinton had enough of her own merit to run on. But, it no longer seems that way...

Even though I'm an Obama girl, I respected Hillary. Senator Clinton has greatly disappointed me with her bad form and her penchant for chewing down trees and building dams and flooding property.

Whether or not you agree with me, if you'd like to send a message to the Clinton campaign to tell them how you think they're doing (whether good or bad) you may do so here.

That's it, baby...Stay strong...And don't forget to call me.

Pennsylvania race unchanged by Obama remark

Lesbian Speed Dating

2008-04-12T08:23:00.000-07:00