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August 31, 2002
oh here it is
oh here it is
I know, I know. I kind of wandered off and got lost for a spell. But at last, I've remembered my URL. My blogger log-in has returned to me, and I'm sitting here downloading 250 emails.
Actually I was in New York all week. My Dad gave me frequent flyer miles, scheduled the whole trip -- Cleveland stop over and all. Do I have a cool Daddy or what? Anyway, we surprised my Mom and unlike *ahem* Dawn, Mom had no idea I was flying into town. All was good.
I really hoped to follow in Ken Layne's footsteps...he had a gun toting security team at his house when he was out of town a few weeks back. I had just one Right Wing gun enthusiast, Mavis Beacon - originally from Texas. She brought only her rifle despite my pleas that she also have her pistol in the holster while patrolling my house. According to my Mom, Mavis is more like family than simply a friend watching over the moxie estate and household zoo. And she does support the death penalty, especially for those trespassing on the Mox. Her rock puts the stones to shame and she also left me with a vase of beautiful roses on my coffee table...what a terrific gal!
This trip was my first since 9/11. My Dad flew from New York to California on September 10th and I had a few family members flying on the 11th. It scared me shitless. I still have no confidence in our airline security. We've all heard about the grandma types getting strip searched but at LAX on my flight out, I saw a blonde, freckled faced little boy who couldn't have been more than 4 getting the full work over. The security buffoon was trying to explain to the child why he had to take his shoes off and why this other strange and scary man was tearing apart his little flight bag of toys, books and games. His mother wasn't allowed in the strip search area, the boy was crying and it was a national disgrace. Fortunately a security woman slipped me a 50 to give every other passenger the once over discreetly from my seat. Everyone looked cool to me.
Many of you might know this, but I'm not a big fan of NYC. The entire east coast makes my creativity dry up, my mind gets constipated and I had a really hard time putting together any coherent sentences at all. I felt a huge pang of guilt for not updating much after spotting some graffiti in the east village, "MOXIE.nu...." at least I think that's what it said.
As soon as I got off the plane in Los Angeles this morning, I wanted to run up and kiss and hug everyone who didn't have a perm and a Calvin Klein jeans handbag. While walking to baggage claim I could hardly prevent myself from skipping when I heard my first California accent. A full week of "Jennifah....go cawl ya sista, look at ha, she's in the gutta" is enough to make someone go deaf. I was waiting for my bag and suddenly, all the ideas and words started flowing. I wrote this entry in my head while driving north on the 405. I'm so glad to be back. It's strange how much you learn to appreciate home when you are away from it.
The other good news is that I can get working on transferring moxie to the new super fly webhost. The even better news is that thanks to your support I bought new lenses for my glasses and you can all expect much better spelllling and far fwer typso. Kidding. A big hug and thank you to my sponsors for helping me see what the heck I'm writing for you all! Now to unpack....
{YOUR NAME HERE graciously sponsored this post }
Posted by Moxie at 11:50 AM
August 27, 2002
29 summers ago
29 summers ago
People ask me a lot about my childhood. I suppose they hope for some insight into what went wrong so they can avoid it while raising their own kids. That's understandable and probably in the best interest for our country.
My childhood was really pretty typical. We went to the beach during the summers where I would lie on the towel reading things like, "Where the Wild Things Are" and "Mechanical Properties of Polymers."
The latter was one of my favorites but I'd eventually write the book "Polymers Gone Wild" at the age of 5 which made the two above mentioned books obsolete in their respective genres.
The picture to your right was taken during the summer of 1973 when I was working on my PhD in Biochemistry. It was hard to balance day care with grad school but somehow I got my work done and my playtime didn't suffer too much. I recall collecting seashells and working on my tan between chapters.
My Mother said she got a lot of notes from my professors, apparently sticking out one's tongue if you disagree wasn't working in my favor. But hey, I couldn't articulate every thing I thought at 12 months.The professor didn't understand most of the words I used anyway. My Mom thought they were intimidated by my vocabulary.
But that's neither here nor there. I wish I could better pinpoint what went wrong in my childhood to make me this way. You know, "How to avoid Raising a Young Mox." Maybe we could ask my imaginary friend, he has tourette's but if you bribe him with candy he'll tell you all my secrets.
{this post sponsored by the very handsome and supportive Rick. Love ya Rick!}
Posted by Moxie at 11:13 PM
when bad things happen to good people
when bad things happen to good people
It's a damn good thing that I had such a good time at Dawn and Eric's Blogger Fiesta because last Friday and Saturday morning were examples of exactly how many things can go wrong in one 24 hour period. Let's start by reviewing my schedule: Larsen Trachner arrived in town on Thursday, Friday I had a ton of things to take care of and I had to leave for the airport at 4 AM Saturday.
Friday, 3:30PM:
Larsen and I are walking back from running a quick errand and notice that my car has been booted. If this sounds familiar to you then you probably recall the other occasions they've booted me, Christmas, New Year's Day and I think my birthday. They forgot to screw up my vacation as well so they were careful to take care of that.
Parking nazi headquarters is about 25 minutes away, they only take cash, I don't have cash and they close at 5 PM. If you don't settle up within a few days (doesn't matter if the parking office is closed for the weekend) they put the car in impound. That can cost you upwards of a grand all costs considered.
We jump in the car and Larsen drives me to the bank. I don’t know the exact amount of the tickets so I take a cash withdrawal on my credit card (ouch) for 500 bucks. We get down there and wait in line. It’s 4:25. By five minutes to five I’m at the counter;
“Okay Moxie, that will be $453.41.”
So I hand her the five hundred dollar bills.
“I’m sorry Ma’am but you need to have exact change.”
“Right, but you see I’m leaving town at 4AM, so I had to take care of this today. Your fine road warriors booted me between 3 and 3:30 – you close at 5PM. I couldn’t get anyone on the phone to find out exactly how much I need to pay you. And you assholes don’t take checks or credit cards.”
“Yes well that’s unfortunate. You can walk to the bank, but I can’t let you back in here after 5PM. “
“I’ve been waiting here in line for a half hour, it’s 5 minutes of five and…..”
“Your car will be impounded late Monday afternoon if this is not resolved Monday morning.”
At that point I lost it, “I’ll be out of state Monday morning. That’s why I’m handing you 500 bucks NOW. I’ve had more than enough of you parking nazi’s. You booted me during the last hours before I head off for a little vacation. Now you insist I have exact change? Well fuck you. I haven’t even packed yet. You are all going to hell. I don't believe in hell but for your sake, I hope there is one.”
The security guard started to walk over. I figured I was headed for jail instead of Cleveland but instead he asked how much change I needed. There were 3 dollar bills in my purse, the security guard dropped 41 cents in my hand and Larsen started asking around if anyone had change for a hundred.
They did. By the time I arrived at the airport at 4:30AM I figured the worst was over.
But that was before some girl pushed past me in the security line and knocked my laptop on the ground. Who knew a laptop would bounce not once but twice when it hit a ceramic tile floor?
{this post is graciously sponsored by the amazing starhawk! Thank you so much :) }
{ALSO: itchy swollen ankles and feet sponsored by Cleveland area mosquitos, stomach ache sponsored by continental airline's food, the inability to send or receive my email sponsored by my broken laptop}
Posted by Moxie at 2:43 AM
August 26, 2002
Ohio
Ohio
Eric Olsen may have just turned 44 but he does one hell of a keg stand. So, my arrival in Cleveland had been vaguely revealed but Dawn put on her very best, "Oh my, I didn't know you were coming!!". An oscar nomination is expected!
Eric and Dawn are two very amazing people. As are Suli, thaWeissblott, David, Scalzi, Dever, Caleb, and of course Sassafrass.
I have lots of incriminating evidence on the Deev especially, but that all will have to wait. I woke up this morning with a sore throat and a conspicously absent voice. Why not having a voice has made it nearly impossible to write is beyond me. But my Mother is convinced I have the West Nile Virus. I think I just need some rest.
Photos and stories to come later.
Many thanks to Dawn and Eric for their hospitality :)
{this post was sponsored by the very amazing and cool Aaron P. Thank you!!!!}
Posted by Moxie at 12:27 PM
August 24, 2002
Mr. Biggish
Mr. Biggish
To most folks Larsen Trachner looks like an ordinary man. His mother was a survivor of the Korean war, his father a Norwegian national posing as a triple agent spying on the Soviets for the Soviets for the Brits. Actually he was a Bionuclear Microphysicist, but no one knew he wasn’t a spy at the time of his employ. To most folks Larsen looks somewhat Asian but he has the big green eyes to prove his heritage. As the son of a former triple agent Larsen’s still involved in the witness protection program employed by the now defunct Soviet Union, so basically that means I have to blur out his face. That’s the extent of his protection.
Tonight Larsen and I had dinner at James Beach in Venice with an American icon so big we can't mention his name on teevee. I’d really like to, you’d all know and love him but he threatened to bite off my finally longish fingernails with his teeth. I told him never to play ball in the house but I agreed I would only refer to him as Mr. Big.
Mr. Big said to me, “so people really give you money for your writing?”
I said, “it baffles me too, but I’m very grateful. My readers are the best in the land. I can't wait until i have a job so i can flow some cash back to them”
I had returned from using the restroom just in time to catch the following conversation, one most likely I wasn't supposed to overhear. There was a line of 10 girls which reached back out into the restaurant but I was only gone a few minutes.
Larsen said, “you know it’s like…{one too many mojito’s speaking here}… MOXIE! Think about Jewel, Cher, Prince, Madonna and Moxie.”
“yeah that’s exactly right,” I agreed {also too many mojito’s at work}
"How did you get through that line so fast?" Mr. Big asked me.
"Simple."
"I used the men's room," I replied proud of my moxie.
Mr. Big asked Larsen, "you know what the word 'moxie' means right?"
Larsen said, "I'm not at liberty to discuss that, but I know *she* does..." as he points at me
"Yeah, it has a lot to do with a woman going in to the men's room, locking the door and using the john. It's a pretty cool thing to have." Mr Big said and winked.
At that moment, we noticed that someone sitting behind us was being harassed by the same girls who had earlier interupted our nice dinner in recognition of the 'Mr. Big' sitting at my own table.
“This ruins everything,” I told him
“Why?”
“I decided to call you Mr. Big because you won’t let me write about you, and then the real Mr. Big is fucking sitting behind me!”
{this post sponsored by the fantastically mysterious anonymous who flowed moxie 12 bucks!!! Thank you for making me smile tonight}
Posted by Moxie at 1:21 AM
August 23, 2002
moxie on melrose
moxie on melrose
caption this if you can ;)
Posted by Moxie at 11:54 PM
it doesn't happen like this in the movies
it doesn't happen like this in the movies
I love my friends but every time I pick one of them up from the airport I swear I'll never do it again. Trying to spot your particular guest in the masses of the arrival area is like trying to find an honest executive at Enron.
Most of the time, I'm pretty good at multitasking but driving around the congested LAX circle of terminals, avoiding pedestrians and looking for my friend is a bit too much for me. I beat my own record for bad airport trips yesterday afternoon. I checked the flight arrival time on the United web site and departed accordingly. I circled around a few times and finally decided to call Larsen's mobile phone. I dialed and then my cell phone battery promptly said, "Nuh uh."
So I pull over to look at the screens indicating arrivals and gates, United uses two terminals at LAX.
"Ma'am you can't stop here. We'll tow your ass!" said one of the friendly security guards.
"But I just need to look at the monitors so I can find my friend before I've circled 1500 times."
"Keep it moving miss, you can't park here"
"I'm not trying to park, I'm trying to see if his flight came into terminal 6 or 7"
"Keep it moving miss. This area is for those picking up a passenger only"
I wondered how long I'm required to circle before heading home and just hope he catches a taxi. After driving around the maze 16 or 17 times (the previous record was 14). Just a breath away from road rage I finally decided to go find a pay phone. That means I had to drive a few miles back towards the 405 to find a gas station. I realize after inserting my change that his mobile number was on my cell phone which chose that particular moment to pass out cold. So I call my voicemail instead. Larsen had left a message. They didn't have a gate so they sat on the runway for 45 minutes. I head back pretty frustrated when I almost run over a man walking across the road to the taxi stand. It was my friend Larsen Trachner. I almost killed him, but at least I didn't have to circle another time. I knew it would come down to one or the other.
{this post was sponsored by the very lovely and generous lisa}
Posted by Moxie at 10:46 AM
August 22, 2002
hunting
hunting
As I was getting out of my car yesterday afternoon I saw a Los Angeles area Celebrity Tour Bus driving past my place again.
"Folks, if you will look to your right, that is the Mox's new place. Built in the 1920's it has housed studio starlets of yore for decades until it was sold into private ownership in the 1980's."
After I moved from my little closet last May I hadn't seen the tour bus in quite some time. I thought I had escaped the route. Silly me, I figured they couldn't find me.
"You may know moxie from her website moxie.nu or from her association with famous bloggers, but more recently because of her indiscreet flirtacious encounter with George Gray the host of the weakest link"
{Heh. Yeah right, and he's been over here every week massaging my feet.}
I went over to the driver's side door. I grabbed the wanna be actor by the scruff of his ring around the collar neck and asked,
"Don't you guys have better things to do like see Anna Nicole Smith's house?"
"Uh we do that too. Along with the OJ tour."
"Who told you where I live?"
"I'll never reveal my sources, Moxie"
"Tell me..."
"Carson"
{choking sounds}
"Daly"
"I thought so."
It's ironic because exactly this date last year I wrote about my difficulty in finding a new place. I so glad to be done with the apartment hunting woes.
{you could have sponsored this post}
Posted by Moxie at 8:50 AM
typos
typos
lotz of peple say i can't spell for shit. it's tru. i need new glaszes and ned help/ to get temh.
I could Rrite a lot more Each day if I could seee better. but I poure over entries for hours looking 4 typios and still miss them. then you pck on me for mye typoios
It would cost me 125 bucks for the eye exxam and new lenses. If everyone who visits each daye (whho hasnt given before) gave me only a bucke i could have new glasses in a day or two.
and a house in the bahamnmammaas, but since 90% o you couldnt even leave a comment on demand laST weekend, I'm shooting for a svery smal percentage of donationz torwads buying me new fgalasses.
Posted by Moxie at 12:00 AM
August 21, 2002
inappropriate response
inappropriate response
My houseguest arrives tomorrow and he's a bit on the anal side so I've been cleaning all day. I just came across something I wrote a few years ago in Palm Springs. The story began when my then boyfriend picked me up at work and drove me home. He said "pack a bag because I'm taking my baby to Palm Springs." So I did. In the car on the way I called the Ritz Carleton to get us a room.
me: I was wondering if you have any rooms available?
him: yes we do. your name please.
me: madison slade
him: how many people will be staying in that room?
me: two
him: can I have the name of the other guest?
me: fernwood bensonmumm
him: are you married?
me: no
him: just friends?
me: no
him: dating?
me: yes
him: how long?
me: 2 years
him: will you be sharing a bed?
me: uh, yes...
him: okay I can give you the special STBNM rate for nonmarried couples
me: STBNM?
him: sleeping together but not married
me: you can't do that
him: it's cheaper
me: yes you can do that
him: is he a big guy?
me: i'm not going to answer that
him: because I have a room with a king size bed
me: oh yes, okay that's fine. yes he's a little on the plump side. and he tosses and turns.
him: does he snore?
me: sometimes
him: okay.
me: don't you have a solution for that?
him: if i did ma'am i wouldn't be working the front desk. i was just curious
me: right
him: would you care for the pool view, the san jacinto view, the parking lot view, i also have a garden view, restaurant view, tree view, desert view or the golf course view.
me: san jacinto
him: are you sure?
me: yes
him: because the tree view is very nice, too
me: no the mountains, please.
him: okay tree view it is
me: i said mountain view
him: i don't have any mountain view
me: san jacinto view...i assume you are referring to the mountain range
him: oh yes, then you should have said that
me: this is like trying to order a latte at Starbucks
him: i used to work for starbucks
me: i can tell
{a million thank you's to the mystery reader who bought me the PHP book from my wish list!!!}
Posted by Moxie at 2:53 PM
August 20, 2002
self help
Pssst, Moxie?
Yeah....
I'm kind of lonely over here
You look lonely.
I think I saw my guy under your bed.
Wow, okay I'll hook it up in a just a second.
The Los Angeles chapter of 'Socks without Partners' is having its weekly meeting at my house tonight. I'm a big fan of socks. They have good hearts. But mine get kind of nasty sometimes.
Was he canoodling with that colored girl again?
Sports sock!! That's not very PC.
I know but he and I belong together
There's nothing wrong with him hanging out with a black knee high
Sorry, I'm just PMSing
Just don't let me hear you talk like that again or it's bleach for you.
If you follow through with the Clorox Miss Thang we'll see who disapears in the dryer next week.
Whatever. You're all talk. We've been together since college. And he wasn't with the black knee high, he was with another sock that looks a lot like you
That motherf*cker. We were made to be together and every chance he gets he's checking out some other girl's goods.
That was my fault actually.
You bitch!
Just be glad I didn't introduce him to that free airplane sock from Quantas. You know what they say about the Aussies.
First it's a sports sock that looks like me, next thing you know it'll be one of those cute little virginal peds I saw next to me in your drawer.
Nah, I never wear them. No chance of him mixing with the likes of them
Well don't be surprised if my guy is one of the singles who shows up for your next 'meet your mate' party.
I'll be more careful, I promise. But if that's not enough I know a really handsome fuzzy slipper you'd like.
(The very amazing Reify sponsored this post}
Posted by Moxie at 7:30 PM
welcome to my life | the telephone
welcome to my life | the telephone
Me:
Hi Mom
Mom:
Who's this?
Me:
Who else calls you Mom?
Mom:
Oh Maddie
Me:
Seriously Mom, you only have one kid
Mom:
One was enough
Me:
You've had 30 years to get used to hearing me call you Mom
Mom:
Who's child are you? You couldn't have come from your Father and me.
Me:
I'm just wondering how long it's going to take for you to realize that it's me when I call and say 'Hi Mom'
Mom:
Probably when I hear someone call me and say 'Hi Grandma'
Posted by Moxie at 3:37 PM
August 19, 2002
q and attitude
q and attitude
Many of you have noticed that I am terrible at responding to emails. We here at Moxie headquarters receive over a thousand emails each day (actually a week, but I like to exaggerate). Here is a Q&A featuring some of the most commonly asked questions:
Q: I notice you can't spell for shit. What did they teach you at Cornell?
A: True, I really can't spell for shit. But the larger problem lies in that I need new lenses for my glasses. When I can see I usually recognize that I wrote 'suck' instead of 'sick' or 'whore' instead of 'horse.' Well maybe that last one was Freudian. The glasses are scratched beyond hope, wearing them provides no benefit and perhaps creates a detriment. I can't see much with them anymore. Step away from the Mox young man. Oh sorry that was my beer.
Q: Are you the young anorexic six foot tall model Tony speaks of?
A: No!! But I am a six foot tall model. I am also 3,000 years old unlike the aforementioned. I eat whatever the hell I damn well please and still weigh barely a buck. They all told me to kiss it goodbye at 18, then for sure at 30. It's still kicking. Because of my shameless pride in eating fast food and still being too thin to give blood I pay homage to my paternal grandmother for my lanky limbs, perfectly flat stomach and supersonic metabolism. Grandma Slade got me hooked on copious amounts of pickles, cheese, filet mignon and cole slaw at a young age, I'm sure that's some sort of family secret I shouldn't be mentioning. Having been a ballet dancer at NYCB's school I saw several of my cohorts waste away, I abhor anyone who tries to glorify anorexia.
Q: I'm bored at work, will you tell me stories? Can I read your novel?
A: Yo brother, I'm telling you stories each day on the web site, you know moxie dot nu? Only my agents have read my work in progress, add your name to my mailing list and I'll let you know when it's officially going to be published. In the meanwhile if you need entertainment log on to moxie and see what's happening. Try it you might like it. Or just go visit Caleb Brown he's hot, intelligent and funny.
Q: I'm so happy to see a nice Jewish girl like you in search of a fine mensch. I wish my 38 year old single son would stick with the tribe. Marty is still single if you are interested. We need to get him away from those evil goyim.
A: No happiness required. I'm not Jewish. I'm an atheist and was raised catholic. Plaid skirts and all. But thank you for raising such wonderful boys who know how to treat a gentile lady. I'll think of you next Rosh Hashana. Send your son my URL. Let him know that the shiksa on the mitzvah bike IS included in the purchase price.
Q: Do you really think that Doc Searls and Right Wing Texan are hot? Where do you fall politically?
A: Yes, and yes. I love those guys to pieces. Young men of America take note, *that's* what this woman wants in a man. Their wives are two very smart ladies for roping in those handsome hunks. As for politics I took one of those crazy tests and it said I was a centrist. I think that's a cop out answer for someone whose answers fell all over the map. The law of averages, you know? I don't have any strong beliefs so it was all kind of random. For instance I wouldn't have an abortion under most circumstances but I think it's mostly okay that they are legal. But then again I think they are too easy to get. But then I don't really know what I think. Officially I consider myself a nihilist wherein all values and beliefs are unknowable and worthless, therefore existence is meaningless. How can you state an absolute belief without knowing a particular circumstance? I'd be much happier if everyone just tried to be good people whatever that means and stopped all the mud slinging and political posturing. Mental Masturbation belongs in one place only. The library.
Q: Why are you and Dawn always fighting over the same guys and can I stalk her?
A: It's no wonder we're great friends -- we find the same guys irresistible. Like attracts like, you know? And yes, I think she'd love it. Be careful though, you are bound to be hurt, she loves her husband fervently and eternally.
Posted by Moxie at 11:52 PM
10 years of litter box management experience
10 years of litter box management experience
People who say that the economy is picking up are full of shit. Looking for a job is tough right now. This morning I was contacted to interview for a program manager position.
Here’s the job description:
We are looking for a Program Manager/Director of Project Management to oversee all phases of project development for 10 concurrent custom web-based development projects. Prior management experience desired, this position will have 12 direct reports. Required: College degree from highly respected college or university, MBA a bonus, at least 10 years Internet or software project management experience. Ability to program HTML, PHP and Javascript desired.
Sounded pretty good so I call the guy back and he wants 5 writing samples as well as days/times I am available for a 60 minute phone interview. I have a policy of requesting the salary range for a job before I spend a minute of my time charming them. This comes after I wasted an entire week last month interviewing with a company only to find out the pay check wouldn’t even cover my gas to and from the office which was an hour and a half away.
Me:
It would be great to have an idea of the salary for that position in order to determine if this might be a fit for both of us
Him:
What are YOUR salary requirements?
Me:
I’d like you to make me a millionaire
Him:
Heh
Me:
I’m fairly flexible within reason. In the past I’ve spent a lot of time interviewing only to find that our ideas of fair compensation were at opposite ends of the spectrum
Him:
I understand. We are budgeted at 35K
Me:
A YEAR?
Him:
I might be able to get them to up to 38K
Me:
You want an MBA with 10 years experience to accept a management position for 38K?
Him:
Yes. Ideally 35K
Me:
I’m sorry did you say 35 to 38 thousand dollars a year?
Him:
That’s correct
Me:
That’s insane
Him:
I know.
Me:
I’ll pass
Him:
You and everybody else who thinks to ask before interviewing
Me:
I’ve already sold my soul to the devil
Him:
Mine's on consignment
Me:
Who crafted this brilliant budget?
Him:
The CEO
Me:
I bet he makes 10 times that salary
Him:
He makes that in one month.
Me:
My cousin Mackenzie just graduated college, I can have her send you a resume
Him:
Okay
Me:
My cats are also available at that rate. Two for one. They have excellent litter box management skills.
Him:
That’s about right
Me:
Have a great one
Him:
You too.
Sigh!
Posted by Moxie at 1:22 PM
August 18, 2002
tool belt
tool belt
I babysat for my neighbors last night. No, no they weren't liquored to the point of losing their shit -- they have a 2 year old. It was really kind of strange because I haven't babysat since I was about fourteen. Back then I gave it up to work in a retail store where I didn't have to deal with baby poo -- instead I just had to take shit from adults who'd try to return things they had already worn. You can see how much I wised up in the last 16 years as I'd now rather deal with dirty diapers.
At exactly 7:30 I walked over and knocked on the door and the baby's mother was still applying the last touches of her makeup. Maxwell's back was towards me, he was by her side already in his jammies and digging through her cosmetics bag. I picked him up to get him out of his mother's way and discovered that he had already applied copious amounts of lipstick to his chin, lips and nose. He had foundation smeared on his forehead and had a tiny hand full of crème blush. As I carried him into the other room he rubbed his hand across his cheekbones and with ease achieved that rosy glow every girl so desires.
From the other room his Mother says,
{read with french accent}
"I swear to you Moxie, he is going to grow up to be a faggot, or transvestite or whatever you call it here."
{/french accent}
"I think you mean cross dresser" I corrected her.
My dearest friend from San Francisco is gay and I am super protective of his lifestyle even if he's not present. So normally I would have cringed at her poor choice of words and corrected her in a much sharper manner. Yet once again with that undeniably charming French accent it somehow sounded okay, as if she hadn't yet learned the correct words. At that moment I realized Max had a makeup brush in his other little paw. He spit on the coffee table where I had sat him down to draw with me. He swirls the brush around in his saliva and starts rubbing the brush across his eyelids.
Giselle:
All he wants to do is put on the makeup, wear women's shoes and he has fascination with handbags.
Moxie:
Oh don't worry all little kids like to wear grown up's shoes and dig through people's handbags
{I had no answer for the frequent makeup application}
Giselle:
Yeah except he has no interest in his Father's shoes, just mine
{Max pulls off my sandals and puts them on his feet and dances back over to his Mom}
Giselle:
I don't know what to do with him, his Father just laughs. I knew I should have breastfed Maxwell.
Moxie:
Seriously, I wouldn't worry about it. Maybe he'll grow up to be a model, or make up artist
Giselle:
Oh joy. Just what we need in this family - another model
Yes, well I can see how awful that would be to have yet another model in the family. When I was doing some modeling in my younger days, my Mother said,
"NO way! We already have too many highly paid models in this family. Nobody wants to have a family full of models. No one wants their kids to earn fat paychecks that will eventually pay their college tuition and if managed properly will ensure financial security for the rest of their lives. Name ONE person who'd want to have that many beautiful people in one family?" She said, "Why don't you go and choose something like accounting where you can struggle financially for years, work your ass off and hope to someday make partner at Arthur Andersen."
Heh.
I wondered what Giselle found so terrible about traipsing around the world for photo shoots. What's wrong with pulling in a 4 figure paycheck for a days work consisting of bouncing around on a beach in a bathing suit, changing clothes, having people do your hair and makeup or god forbid just walking down the runway in a $200,000 dress? All sarcasm aside, the majority of my friends don't like what they do for a living and these two are no different.
Maxwell's birthday is coming up, I'm going to buy him a tool belt and a play power drill.
Of course with my luck he'll end up tucking makeup in the belt and pretending the power drill is a hairdryer. Perhaps that's the price one pays for having too many models in one family...
{this post was sponsored by Ryan, my favorite hamletmachine. Thanks Ryan!!!}
Posted by Moxie at 12:42 PM
August 16, 2002
tony toni tone pierce
supertsar7 = tony pierce
ondirgrrl = me!
onedirgrrl: it was fun & much needed
onedirgrrl: and I learned that 80 year olds have more sex and fun than I do at 30
supertsar7: they keep the lights on
supertsar7: come over
supertsar7: fix that problem in a solid 3 minutes
onedirgrrl: nah
supertsar7: i see the glass as half full of rum
onedirgrrl: i see a glass half empty of wine
supertsar7: how many pics did you take of palm springs?
onedirgrrl: a few more. I was too busy being stalked at the pool
supertsar7: i hope you had a black one piece and a flowing white thin nighty with fur on the
eges and big sunglasses
onedirgrrl: I had big sunglasses, a tres chic straw 20's style sun hat and a navy blue one
piece that ties up over the neck...very low cut but classic
supertsar7: i know, i was stalking you
onedirgrrl: wow, you were surprisingly white and bald
onedirgrrl: but hey, I hardly know you
supertsar7: makeup dpt.
onedirgrrl: they do good work
onedirgrrl: so why did you sit in the pool, arms on the ledge at my feet all day long? couldn't you tell that I saw you staring at me?
supertsar7: x ray glasses
supertsar7: + boner
onedirgrrl: yes, well the boner is the downfall of all male specimens, isn't it?
onedirgrrl: How did you manage to look so bald? the full lather of titanium dioxide on the
freckled scalp was really convincing
supertsar7: i pulled off my tony mask
supertsar7: i keep telling you i'm 108
onedirgrrl: ah, so you aren't really a black christian minister?
supertsar7: does tony look black to you?
onedirgrrl: yes
supertsar7: with his clothes on, thank you
onedirgrrl: oh sorry
supertsar7: no, im just an old man with a mask and a bad wig
onedirgrrl: I was surprised at how everytime I swam to the other side of the pool you did the
same. Was there a method to your madness?
supertsar7: animal attraction
onedirgrrl: so you liked my retro look?
supertsar7: very classy
supertsar7: youre a skinny girl though
supertsar7: damn
onedirgrrl: so how were you able to be at the xbi AND in Palm Springs at the same time
supertsar7: when was i there?
onedirgrrl: at the pool, stalking me
supertsar7: no at the office?
onedirgrrl: hmmmm, I guess I can't confirm you were at the xbi headquarters
supertsar7: nope
onedirgrrl: i was just thinking there might be a mini-you who fills in when you have more important things to do
supertsar7: i wish
onedirgrrl: do I remind you of any particular babe of yore? with my retro look at the pool
and all? (I'm glad I left the furry high heels in my room)
supertsar7: marlene dietrich
onedirgrrl: no, really.
supertsar7: before the booze
onedirgrrl: ah
supertsar7: a young kate winslett
onedirgrrl: I'm older than Kate! And about 40 lbs lighter than she!
supertsar7: minus the ass
supertsar7: x ray glasses
onedirgrrl: you remind me of why I like men.
supertsar7: and what would that be?
onedirgrrl: The twinkle in the eye, the intelligence and the ability to make me laugh till I pee
my pants
onedirgrrl: isn't that what every woman wants?
supertsar7: i thought a woman just wanted a rich handsome bigger than average dicked man
who can cook clean and ignore sports
onedirgrrl: well that too
supertsar7: and dresses like a gay guy
onedirgrrl: yes, we women like well dressed men
supertsar7: and shaves twice a day
onedirgrrl: well, some women like the exfoliation by kissing method
supertsar7: and waits for her to come first
onedirgrrl: i wouldn't know about that, I'm a virgin
supertsar7: and reads currently released books
onedirgrrl: yes, for sure about the books. The surgeon hadn't read a book in 8 years
supertsar7he's busy i would hope
onedirgrrl: yeah, busy falling asleep
supertsar7: and could be approved by dad and loved by mom with relative ease
onedirgrrl: yes. all true
supertsar7:and who scores excellent weed at a moments notice
onedirgrrl: uh...no
onedirgrrl: he'd be a lethal weapon if he smoked weed
supertsar7: who could score excellent crystal meth at a moments notice
onedirgrrl: I watched Meet the Parents in Palm Springs, but since you were stalking me I
guess you knew that
supertsar7: it gave me time to eat
onedirgrrl: Have you seen that movie?
supertsar7: no
onedirgrrl: too bad, you should have knocked on my door and joined me
supertsar7: dit21:whazzup, nigga?
supertsar7: once again?
dit21: ?
supertsar7: im black
dit21: ?
supertsar7: unless you are too, you probably should start over, or give me your address so i
can beat your ass
onedirgrrl: wow
onedirgrrl: who's that ass cracker?
supertsar7: its why i never go online
onedirgrrl: sorry, you better go take care of business
supertsar7: yeah
Every weekend, it's slow and depressing. In TWO days I get about the same amount of visitors I get here during a typical down weekday. Since i ostensibly entertain you, I'd love it if you'd entertain me this weekend. I dream of checking back in on Monday morning and finding 500 comments here.Tony told me i shouldn't post here again until each and every one of you leaves a "hello, how's it going" message. Multiple posts are cool. tell your friends, co workers, enemies and family. i need some love this weekend!!!
(this post was beyond generously sponsored by the very handsome Shad, you rock Shad!!!}
Posted by Moxie at 10:32 PM
confusion
confusion
I've found there's much confusion floating around these online dating sites. A few weeks back, I received this email from a guy we'll call Craig.
"suzanne, i really enjoyed our hike in runyon canyon but you haven't called me back. perhaps you lost my number? it's 555-1345 cheers, craig"
Mistaken identity. I felt badly and flagged the email for response. Not more than twenty minutes later I received another desperate plea from Craig. He was getting pathetic.
"suzanne, didn't you feel the chemistry i felt? i just looked at your profile again and i fit every one of your requirements. you said you liked my poems and wanted to go to see my friend's band with me this friday. i don't have your phone number. please call me today. yours, craig"
So I decide to do the right thing and write him a note back explaning that I am not Suzanne but am alarmed that there is someone out there masquerading as moxie. As I'm typing, yet another missive arrives in my inbox.
"suzanne, remember how cool i was about you not looking anything like your photo? remember how you said you weren't one of those flaky la types? what happened you bitch? you are everything you said you weren't. and more. and you have a huge f'ing ego for not responding to any of my emails. f you, craig"
Dear Craig,
I regret to inform you that your snarky emails have been misdirected. Suzanne didn't look anything like her photo because you've confused my profile with a woman who would correspond with you. My name is not Suzanne nor would I ever have gone hiking with you in this heat. I do feel after reading your notes that I've gotten to know you a bit. To that end, I've attached some rules regarding internet dating. Just a few don'ts that may increase your odds of finding Mrs. Right.
Best,
Moxie
PS: It's a good idea to allow someone a day or two to respond to your emails before you start with the childish name calling.
But of course, that wasn't enough. It took three more rounds of emails for him to understand that this wasn't some convoluded way to get rid of him. Just this morning I received another email from him.
"suzanne, i've been trying to reach you. it seems i had confused your profile with some other woman's. i was wondering if you are still interested. yours, craig"
I couldn't bring myself to respond again. I just hope there's someone out there who can help this man.
{this post was generously sponsored by give off who stuffed some sweet cash in the tip jar. Thank you, give off !!!}
Posted by Moxie at 1:22 PM
senior
senior
Maxpower asked me, "so nothing happened on your trip...how can this be true? Everywhere you go crazy things happen." I told him I don't know, but I guess I didn't want anything to happen. I just wanted to relax. "Didn't you get lonely at all?"
"No, not really. I met a lot of wacky characters, they're drawn to me like flies on shit. But the most interesting things were those I overheard."
You see, at this inexpensive tapas restaurant I found, I sat at my little table for one reading Ken Layne's novel. I began to have a hard time concentrating thanks to the table just behind me.
"So how was the trip to Costa Rica?"
"Better than last time. We chartered a private jet."
"Did you guys go out dancing?"
"everynight! Rodrick is such a hot dancer. but a few times we had parties to go to"
"hee hee, yes Rodrick always knows how to find the good parties"
"that's not all he knows how to find"
{giggles}
"Sounds like you two are getting serious. Are you going to break up with Steven then?"
"Most likely after we get back from the Bahamas. He's taking me with him, they're shooting a new film there."
"You leave next week?"
"goodness yes, that's coming up quickly"
"You know, I finally slept with Norm."
"Oooh! And...."
"You were right, he can go all night!!"
"Oh Phyliss when I was dating him I could hardly walk the next morning!"
{more laughter}
"Oh hey, have you been back to Baltimore to see your Grandkids?"
Grandkids?? I had to turn my head.
Yup.
Grandma's.
And not the kind of Grandma's that people see with their daughters and ask if they are sisters.
The one who was dating Steven and Rodrick simultaneously had blue hair styled in that cotton candy bouffant The second one had a head of short white curls, wore flourescent pink lipstick and her glasses sat on the very end of her nose.
They got up to leave, speaking of dancing and cocktails later that evening. I went back to my room to watch teevee and thought about what I had just heard.
The two of them with more of a life than everyone I know combined. I was going to watch Sex in the City but chose The Golden Girls instead.
Posted by Moxie at 5:26 AM
August 15, 2002
return to los angeles
return to los angeles
So I packed a bag and speed off to the desert. I think I saw a meteor or two but those could have been flashbacks from being around someone who did acid. Ingrid got amazing gas mileage, 30 miles to the gallon, not too shabby for a 17 year old sportscar.
The best part of the trip was that nothing happened. That's correct, nothing happened. Merv Griffin wasn't naked in the hot tub with his compadres. I wasn't asked to inspect a potential car bomb. No one I talked to was narcoleptic. Sure I met a ton of strange and interesting characters, but those stories will come later. Mostly I soaked in the 115 degree sun. I'm not sure why that feels so good, but it does. I lounged by the pool eating fruit and even managed to consume a margarita. I swam a lot and got a nice tan despite my SPF 15. A low budget get away that's left me feeling like a million bucks.
{happy birthday dawn!!! i have a pretty nifty present for you, but that will have to wait :) }
Posted by Moxie at 2:25 PM
August 14, 2002
see this?
see this?
this is me after I realized I had enough points from prior business travel to go away.
this is me after realizing that you can be flat broke and still escape for free to palm springs late at night when you most need it.
this is me leaving for palm springs at 3 AM, with just enough time to catch the meteor showers.
{be back tomorrow evening. those of you who purchased headshots...they will go in the mail tomorrow evening}
Posted by Moxie at 2:35 AM
August 13, 2002
blogcritics launches
blogcritics launches
Eric Olsen has spearheaded a huge project both in concept and execution -- it went live today!
Be sure to check out blogcritics, a sinister cabal of the web's best writers on music, books and popular culture miscellanea - updated continuously. Three cheers for Eric and all the bloggers who submitted reviews!
Blogcritics was even linked on Slate today. Spread the word.
Posted by Moxie at 2:52 PM
back
back
Thanks to everyone who stuck by me through my bad mood the past few days. I was feeling kind of ineffective in life and let it get the best of me. I've mentioned my noisy neighbors before, right? Things have only gotten worse, it's a regular frat party over there. Hookers, kegs, late night pool games and naked girls in the hot tub on their terrace. Yes, they really did buy a pool table and hot tub for their pad.
But that's not what got me down. I had asked them more than a few times,
"hey can you guys keep the music at a more reasonable level? I can't hear my teevee."
This semi pleasant request had no effect. My other neighbors are high fashion models. The female has a wonderful French accent and I've noticed that no matter what she says, or how she says it -- it sounds polite and elegant.
Giselle walks over to the noisy bunch Sunday night and I'm paraphrasing here as it was actually much more graphic,
{read with a french accent, please}
"shut the fuck up, you immature idiots"
"you and your rich asshole friends have disturbed most of the neighborhood with their fucking rap music, get some taste and grow up you pieces of shit."
{/read with french accent}
To which the 22 year who shits cash said, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that we were being too loud." And immediately the music was turned off and the crowd silently filed back inside the townhouse. Not a peep has been heard out of them since.
Whenever I'm around Giselle, I feel like the crass, noisy American. If I had a French accent it would really come in handy. For instance when my credit card company starts calling.
{read with a french accent, please}
"what do you fuckers mean you didn't receive my payment. go to hell you assholes."
{/read with french accent}
"I'm so sorry ma'am, i'll credit your account in the proper amount. have a great week."
I'll be busy working on my French accent the rest of the day.
{this post was sponsored by anonymous who dug deep in his pockets and pulled out 25 bucks. Thank you!!}
Posted by Moxie at 1:55 PM
August 12, 2002
amazon
amazon
I'm in a bad mood and not posting again until the last three anonymous amazon donors come forward via email with a name and/or url and donation amount so that I can pay homage to them, it's only fair that I can thank you.
Right? Right!
Don't make me feel badly for not being able to thank you guys personally....
{For those of you inclined to donate to Amazon, I really have no idea who donates what, not only that but they take more out of your donations than Paypal.}
Posted by Moxie at 8:34 PM
anonymous blogging
anonymous blogging
I rarely get fired up about anything real, but after reading Glenn Reynolds, Dawn and Den Beste's opinions on anonymous blogging, I digress from my usual tripe.
Glenn thinks it's okay to blog anonymously but feels that readers give those folks less respect than if a true identity was attached. I'm sure that's true for warbloggers and the like. But no one has mentioned that from the social commentary side of the blogosphere the readers of non-anonymous blogs *can* lose a lot in honesty.
Who can use their real name and write about the scandals at work? Who can talk openly about cheating on their boyfriend or husband? Or talk about what's wrong with their relationship? Who can use their real name and complain about their boss? Or talk about the strange things their friends do? All very interesting, worthwhile and entertaining things to read, I think.
Anonymity is a free pass to be completely honest without suffering economic or personal losses. The comedian touches on that briefly noting that a pen name and anonymity are different. How many bloggers have you heard about losing their jobs over their blogs? I can name more than a few. Hell I lost a job over here say that I talked shit about a co worker at a bar on a Saturday night. Life isn't safe, you know.
Lots of folks have met me and know my real name. There are pictures of me posted all over the place. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Moxie is not a shroud of mystery, it's simply a way for me to write openly and honestly about people I worked with, my crazy family and even my neighbors. He who has not googled a friend's name may cast the first stone.
Perhaps most importantly as a woman, it's much more comfortable to use my nom de plume. I don't have to worry about being stalked in the serious sense. Even my domain registration address belongs to a six foot tall X pro football player friend of mine. So if you give me less respect for being free to write about everything in my life -- then so be it.
UPDATE: den beste needs to take a reading for comprehension class for grouping me - a single woman who NEVER talks about politics - with two who do often and want to hide behind psdeudonyms. He liked bigwig's post which contained a more verbose version of my post.
He missed the point all together on moxie. C'est dommage. he must be very thirsty.
{this post was sponsored by the mysterious shad muegge}
Posted by Moxie at 4:08 PM | Comments (2)
hair is evil
hair is evil
The body kind, not the long blonde ones my head. I've known a lot of men who can't grow beards because they have a bald spot on their face, but their back is a full blown jungle. When I was fourteen I misplucked my eyebrows once and the damn hairs never grew back yet after 9 years of waxing my legs the little f*ckers keep on growing back.
I'm a big fan of hair removal. My doctrine is this: the only appropriate place for hair on a woman is on her head. I wax my legs, the peach fuzz on my arms, my underarms and am a big fan of extreme bikini waxing if you know what I mean. It's not that I'm particularly hairy, it's that I can't be trusted with a razor and shaving cream. No matter how careful I am while shaving I end up wearing too many snoopy bandaids. Try keeping a bandaid stuck on your armpit when it's 100 degrees out and you're schvitzing.
It's enough to make a girl scream, "Holy smokes Evolution, we chicks don't need hair on our legs to keep warm anymore." It's enough to give me some appreciation for those hippie girls who shamelessly wear the tank tops and shorts that clearly displays their personal stance on female body hair. It causes me to look enviously at men who can wear leg hair and still be considered sexy. They can schlep around in gym shorts and be called "athletic" instead of a slob. They can even lose the hair on their heads and still be a super sex symbol.
These are the same men who expect women to smell good, dress sexy, have flawless skin and hair and have an unnaturally hair free body. That's a pricey endeavor. And it takes a lot of time, as well.
Where's the love? Men buy soap, shaving cream, razors, and shampoo. That adds up to 10 bucks plus a 10 minute morning ritual. In order to live up to the high expectation of the low maintenance gender girls spend hundreds of dollars a month on waxing, cosmetics, perfume, lotions, hair products, makeup. I could go on, but I'll stop there. Yes, we enjoy some of it, but these are the same men who wonder why we're always broke. These are the same men who complain about how long it takes for us to get ready.
No wonder most women want to settle down with a financially stable man. Sure, he'll still complain about how much time we spend in the bathroom, but at least he can pay for dinner.
{this post sponsored by the very sexy Mr. Know it All, thanks Chuck!}
Posted by Moxie at 2:22 PM | Comments (2)
August 10, 2002
don't say i didn't warn you
don't say i didn't warn you
"I'm sorry, I get a little loud when I drink, " he said. No hello or nice to meetcha. This man, a photographer and his leggy Versace model wife had just arrived at the party. It got me wondering why folks think that if they tell you their flaws upfront that it somehow makes it okay. That after their revelation they are no longer responsible for their actions. I don't know if this is an LA phenomenon or widespread epidemic.
"Nice to meet you I'm Moxie and when I'm around people like you I tend to write about them on my web site the next day." He laughed. But it did feel good to tell him up front that he'd likely grace the pages of my blog.
As the night progressed he tossed back more than a couple of drinks and with each his volume increased as promised. But he forgot to confess that he also gets obnoxious and rowdy when he's drunk. He pulled off some guy's rug and played a rousing game of monkey in the middle with some other drunkard on the opposite side of the suddenly bald man.
"I'm so sorry but after another drink I'll be wearing your bad toupee as a merkin"
He got into the hot tub with a bunch of hot chicks in string bikinis and splashed them until they all looked like soggy bread. They didn't seem to mind, probably because they were too busy enjoying how bad the other chicks looked to realize they looked the same way.
"I'm sorry when I'm near beans I tend to fart a lot"
He cleared out the hot tub in record time. I stayed within earshot of this guy, simply because he truly grew more ridiculous by the minute.
"Hi, I'm Bob and I tend to dial drunk. Gimme your number but don't tell my wife"
"Nice to meet you, I'm a bit overweight so I'll be over there at the food table all night "
And some people wonder why there are so many writers in Los Angeles. If you saw what I see everyday you'd be writing a novel too. So somehow I end up standing next to this clown towards the end of the night. Once again, he confesses, "I have no real personality so I overcompensate by being loud and crazy."
me: I'll show you what personality is, Mr. Man. Look, you know how to get on the internet, right?
him: Yeah that's just off the 60, but isn't that a bad neighborhood?
me: No that's the City of Industry. I'm talking about the web, AOL most likely in your case.
him: I have AOL, Doc.
me: Good. Go read 2 posts on tonypierce.com and call me in the morning.
{This post was sponsored by the very kind wKen. Thanks Ken! }
Posted by Moxie at 2:33 PM
August 9, 2002
bash
bash
Drew B. is having another beach bash this evening so I'm headed to Malibu tonight. Last party she threw I brought Carson and could hardly join in on the fun. He's such a pain in the ass. Before we left my house he even made me wax his back for him. He's really upset by the spread back there. I've never seen him cry quite that way before. But at least his back was smooth as a baby's bottom.
The thing I don't miss about Carson is that he gets so jealous sometimes. I mean, he got himself in a tizzy because I licked some whipped cream off Aaron Spelling's chin. Aaron's hands were sandy from burying one of those Hilton sisters in the sand, and some wanna-be actress chick shoved a strawberry with whipped cream in his mouth. I was really only being polite. I'm sure any other girl would have done the same. In fact Drew was still with Tom at the last party and I saw him licking sand off that Hilton sister.
The really crazy thing about Drew's parties isn't the celebrity guest list, it's the nudity. Sure, no party in LA ends before some guy does a line of coke off his girlfriend's ass. But who knew that in addition to being a Scientologist that Travolta is a nudist?
I'm not talking about a strip poker game gone bad, or even a "I got really drunk, took off my clothes and jumped in the ocean" kind of nude.
He arrives nude.
Now that guy's got guts. I mean a gut. I was pretty curious to see his package but the majority of it was obfuscated by his belly. C'est dommage.
Tonight's guest list is a secret, but I asked Drew to make sure to invite some cute single men for me. She can't always be trusted, last set up was with Owen Wilson. I met him for lunch and couldn't eat a bite. Finally I just outright asked him, "is that a penis on your face?" He laughed and said usually he gets "clothespin nose" but was impressed by my creativity.
Well I better get going. I've got a lot to do today before heading north on PCH.
{This post was generously sponsored by Jason Lewis. Thanks Jason :) }
Posted by Moxie at 9:53 AM
dancing babies
dancing babies
The girls knocked on my door, their husbands were busy doing their own things and my gal pals wanted to go to the home depot. How's that for role reversal? I was game, so it was the three girls + one 2 year old boy Max (no relation). Maxwell gave me a voluntary hug when his mom was pulling the vehicle up closer to the house and it made me feel like a million bucks.
We get little Max strapped into his baby seat in the back of the SUV and all piled into the monstrosity. I think only girls fight over who sits in the back with the baby, instead of who gets shotgun. So I won and got the back seat next to my favorite little guy. It's only then that I learn this is Max's Mom's first time driving....ever. She's from Europe and never had to drive before. What is it with me and driving stories this week?
But she does a great job on the road and after a pleasant visit to the Home Depot we land on Sunset heading west. She's comfortable enough to put an old Moby CD into the CD player. Little Max starts bouncing his head up and down like a chicken. Oh, I forgot to mention that we had five giant house plants in the SUV. The leaves were hanging over my head, Max's head and a few even reached into the front seats. But Max didn't care and he was grooving out to the cool sounds of Moby and looking at me for approval.
"Hey, Max is rocking out back here," I alert the other girls.
So I start to mimic his dancing, and then so do the others. We turned the music up and Max is bouncing his head even harder aware of his scantily clad back-up girls in the front and to his left. He starts moving his arms like a little gangster. Then at a red light he overhears some even louder music. The AC doesn't work, so all the windows are rolled down. Max has a pair of broken sunglasses in his hand and turns his head and makes eye contact with the other driver while gesticulating furiously. Max is staring intently at this guy in the low riding honda with neon accents. Put this little guy in a grown man's body and I swear someone would have shot at us. Or played chicken. Max is at that stage where he's a mini-man, the body is small, but he knows what's what. So he continues to challenge the guy in the car next to us.
The other driver was playing some hardcore rap, you know, lot’s of mother f'er, p*ssy and biatch in the lyrics. And he looks over with a grimace on his face. We girls kind of cringe and Max's Mom starts to roll up the window, pressing the button more times than was necessary.
Unfortunately, this is a long red light and after some long drawn out riff the bass kicks back in and Max resumes his rocking out and the car-dancing competition continues. The window is only rolled up halfway at this point and the gangsta suddenly smiles, laughs, and starts nodding his head to the Moby tune we had blasting. Max smiles and laughs. The gangsta flashes Max the gang sign and winks before pulling away from the intersection before us. I guess that's the closest I've gotten to social harmony in Los Angeles.
"Max is going to be a heart breaking bass player. Dija see what he did to that *gangbanger*? God help any naïve woman who crosses his path" I muttered to his Mom.
Posted by Moxie at 12:08 AM | Comments (1)
August 8, 2002
garage sale | ONE day special offer
garage sale | ONE day special offer
Tony called me tonight when he was on his way to softball practice and stuck in typical LA traffic. He said, "hey Moxie -- did your ivy league education and great smile get you a job yet?" I told him that sadly, no I still was unable to find something. "So what's next for you?" he asked, "I want to see you sell your panties for 20 bucks a pair." I'm not quite ready for that, but having been unemployed for over a year and having had more than a few garage sales I'm still quite broke. Thanks to my fabulous sponsors (listed on the left hand side of my page), I'm just dollars away from moving to a faster webhost. And for that I am eternally grateful.
But still I scrounge around in my closet for things to sell. Tonight I found something.
Fifteen (15) semi-glossy copies of this headshot pictured to the left
The photos are slightly smaller than 8.5x11, I'd guess they are 8x10's but I don't have a ruler to measure it exactly.
For only $9.99 you can have a personal autographed copy of me. If this floats your boat, send me $9.99 here on paypal (I can't do this through amazon), please make sure I have an address to send it to, and your name so I can sign it.
This offer is limited, only 15 photos are available, and after 24 hours any remaining photos will be discarded.
Support the arts, get an autographed photo of me before I'm famous (ha ha, in my dreams I become famous), and help keep me afloat.
Posted by Moxie at 8:48 PM
narcoleptic surgeon
narcoleptic surgeon
Most grrrls would feel very safe hopping in the fancy sports car driven by a guy who cuts people's bodies open for a living, rearranges their organs, transplants hearts and heals all that ails them. Not this girl.
Why? He told me he has a 'propensity' towards falling asleep. I told him I have a 'propensity' towards watching the weakest link every afternoon -- back to back episodes no less, what's the difference?
Oh Great. So we are driving 20 minutes to the beach in the Marina.
And at that point we had just pulled away from the red light at the end of my street. I knew this was going to be a super long 20 minute monologue without the prize of a "five lines or under" union job.
We were on the freeway at this point, and I had run out of things to talk about. Imagine that!
I sensed confrontation was a good thing
He began ranting about having unwittingly bought an automatic Porsche, one of the greatest travesties known to Porsche enthusiasts.
We arrived alive, I'm thankful to report. And after I saved this guy from a $65 ticket, we spent an hour on the beach. It should be no surprise that he promptly fell asleep with half a sandwich still in his mouth. Guess who performed the heimlich maneuver? Do you wonder why he’s still single?
I made him listen to the rap station on high volume on the way home. I was all talked out.
{two trailer park girls go round the outside, round the outside, round the outside. Guess who’s back? Back again. Shady's back. Tell a friend.....}
this post is sponsored by sarah who tipped me 10 bucks through amazon. thank you!
Posted by Moxie at 11:37 AM
August 7, 2002
moulin rouge los angeles: redux
moulin rouge los angeles: redux
Still having weird nightmares involving feather tiara's, a trapeze, male midgets, a go-go dancer and nicole kidman. The night visions wouldn't be considered nightmares if ice queen nicole didn't insist on intruding. Coming down from an ultra fun weekend, to a run of the mill week is more difficult and lonelier than you'd think (lying on the beach today with a narcoleptic surgeon eating chicken doesn't cut it). Thought I'd share. The picture, not the chicken or the loneliness. I'm sure kitty bukkake could make some positive light out of this situation if foam was involved.
Posted by Moxie at 11:32 PM
marina del rey
marina del rey
I just got back from a lunch date with a surgeon I was set up with months ago. It's taken this long to actually met him in person. The sole criteria for the matchmaking? We both drive a Porsche. That's good enough for me. So he suggests lunch on the beach and pulls into a red zone to grab some take out for us. He leaves me in the car with the keys, "if someone comes to give me a ticket, just pull it around the block." His Porsche is much nicer than mine, a late model convertible, in fact and I was drooling at the prospect of driving it, if only around the block.
So there I sit when someone starts screaming all crazy and I get out of the car. Yup, it's our friendly parking attendant.
"What you doing parked in the red?"
"I'll move it, very sorry miss...."
"Ain't my job to tell you to move it, I just write the tickets"
"okay. You're right."
"Who's car is dat?"
"It's my friends, but I can move it."
"You know how to drive that thang?"
"Yes, I'm very sorry, I'll be out of there in a second."
"Who you friend think he is?"
{I laugh}
"You friend's gettin a 65 dollar ticket, he can't park his shit wherever he want"
{I nod, and figure since I'm dealing with a chick, she'll show no sympathy for the blonde girl left in a brand spanking new convertible}
"Dat the red zone. No one can park there. Not even me. Who he think he is?"
"I don't know, I guess he thought I could move it"
"Why the hell didn't you move that shit as soon as he git out of the car?"
"I don't know, I guess I'm kind of scared to drive something that costs that much. Wouldn't you be?"
{she laughs and nods}
"Okay, you go git in the drivers seat and back that shit out and I'll let him go."
"Thanks, I really appreciate it"
"But you tell him everything I said to you. Ask him for me, who he think he is parking in the red, okay?"
"It's a deal. Have a great afternoon"
"You too ma'am."
So I get in the car and back it out, circle around and pick him up at the take out place. I told him what had happened, and even reenacted the entire conversation for him.
As we drove off for the beach, guess who we saw parked in the same red zone eating a sandwich?
"Who does she think she is?!" he asked.
"Don't be an ingrate," I laughed.
Posted by Moxie at 4:46 PM
August 6, 2002
i need a little help
i need a little help
Hi, Moxie's busy taking care of business around the house so she asked me to write a little something for you guys. I'm glad to have this opportunity because I've got a few problems and I thought maybe some of you could help me out.
I've been trying to shake this dorky image I have going on. I mean, sure I'm getting good roles and all but if I can't morph into a Sean Penn bad boy type my career is going to disappear fast. I think I look pretty cool in this picture, you know holding a surfboard kind of makes the man. I thought it was weird to be holding the board and wearing jeans. Do guys surf in jeans? Oh yeah, and then my Mom made me wear this member's only jacket but I guess it's cool as long as no one knows. I think I'm a decent looking guy, surely it could be worse but sometimes I just get so frustrated with the image that I cry like a baby. The chicks dig that, by the way.
So back to my bigger problems. I turned 27 in June but my agent describes my voice as prepubescent. My Mom says it's more like Peter Brady on that episode when his voice starts to change. I've tried a lot of things including hookers and heroin but I just can't shake it. I think if I could grow a beard, or even have some 5 o'clock shadow that could somehow offset my voice. I want to look tougher all around. Last week I used a lot of crass curse words like "shit" and "hell" in front of the press, but with that whole britney scandal I decided to mind my manners.
I talked to my manager about getting a few piercings and a tat or two so that's in the works. But if you guys have any other advice for me, I'm all ears. In case you didn't know being bad is the new good.
Posted by Moxie at 11:49 AM
August 5, 2002
just do the best with what god gave you
just do the best with what god gave you
Not many people know this about me, but i have a super critical evil twin who lives in a stilt house on the beaches of south Thailand. She emailed me today and asked why I never write about current political topics. I told her, there are so many other folks who already do a crack job at it. Why do something i can't excel at, right? I write about what I know.
She said, you went to Cornell, an ivy league school and graduated from there with a double major, hell you almost went to medical school and all you talk about are the gross boys you go out with and how they can't take a firm no for an answer. once again, I told her I'm the world's only expert on me.
She said, you work in technology and know how to do all kinds of coding, but you never talk about that. I said we have Doc and those tech guys who talk tech better than I ever could. And really, I'm much more of a hack/liason between the tech folks and the corporate bigwigs who barely know how to use email but somehow landed the job of building their company's online infrastructure.
So she said, why not write about writing online, like Jeff sometimes does? I told her, because he already does it the best....
So I said, hey evil uber critical twin, take it easy. I'm filling the small void in the blogosphere. No one else can write from my perspective and know how weird my life is, the highs the lows, the joys and sorrows. Call it a type A personality, but no matter what I do in life, I refuse to be second rate. I want to be at the top of my game, and if folks like to read about my crazy life (as many of you do), then that makes me an expert.
My evil twin said, so you told me that this weekend, you wanted to take some guy you met aside and kiss him passionately just seonds after you met him. Why didn't you?
Well, that's the dangerous chemistry that Tony speaks of. That guy is surely a heartbreaker. And I don't dare talk about that here. It would blow my bloggy thing to pieces, and it would take me a decade to piece it back together.
Posted by Moxie at 6:45 PM
why don't we ever do that stuff?
Unlike my friend Tony Pierce I don’t have the disclaimer that nothing in here is true. Perhaps I don’t say that because most of what’s in here IS true despite the fact most folks don’t believe the things that happen to me. Not even after the photos have been published in the National Enquirer and People Magazine.
My friend Brandy said, “You’re always telling me awesome tales of crashing private parties and slipping into VIP rooms at clubs. Why don’t you ever do that when we’re out together?”
First of all, Brandy is happily involved with a wonderful man, and such sordid affairs require the conspicuous absence of men. Secondly I told her, I never knew she had the desire to be involved with my crazy antics. But the other night was a girl’s night out, and the conditions were perfect for a little moxie action.
So we went to Joya in Beverly Hills. Brandy said, “is there a VIP room here?” I said, “of course there is, let’s go.” So we walk through the hallway and as we pass him I smile at the guy with a walkie-talkie and earpierce. I give him a little wink. He nods, and once we’re into the VIP lounge I said to Brandy, “so what do you think?” She turned around just in time to see the girls who were trying to ride the moxie train to the fast lane get shut down at the door. “This is it?” she said.
“Didn’t you see the bouncer at the door?” I asked. She didn’t really notice until the girls got rejected behind us. But that’s the way I operate. Some dude tried to take a photo of us, but I whipped out my camera and took one of him instead.
She said, “I want to see what else you can do.”
I said, let’s go to a private party. “You know where one is?” I told her, “I always know where to find a party that I haven't been invited to…”
So we go check out the joint where I met Leonardo DiCaprio. He’s always having private parties at this place. In fact, it’s never open to the public. If someone didn’t rent it out, it’s closed.
We pull up in the Porsche and it’s valet parked. I light up a cigarette and chat up two guys who just stepped out of the party.
Moxie: hi
Them: are you beautiful women just arriving?
Moxie: yeah. Who invited you guys?
Them: Oh we know Ellen and Joe.
Moxie: cool.
Them: cool 
Moxie: we know Ellen too
Them: cool
Moxie: What are your names?
Them: {one hands us a card}
Moxie: Nice to meet you Sasha. We have to go in and find my boyfriend.
Them: maybe you can call us sometime?
Moxie: cool.
Them: cool
So we approach the door, and someone whisks us inside. It’s Joe, the host of the party.
Brandy cringes, but I take it as a welcomed challenge.
He asks how we were invited, “we know Ellen,” I said confidently.
“Who’s Ellen?” he asked.
Then I figured it out….”you know AL lan”
“Oh!!! You know Alan!"
“Yea, and we’re good friends of Sasha’s”
“I love that guy! He just left you know. What are your names?”
“Moxie, and this is Brandy”
“Sounds like a good mixed drink! Speaking of which, let me buy you guys a drink”
So he did.
There was a scantily clad girl with a perfect body at the party dancing on a black box. Aside from the guy in the photo who seemed to have wood over her, no one else was really watching. I took a few photos, we hung and danced for a bit, met some new friends and then slipped out unnoticed.
It was a good night.
And my good friend finally got to see the moxie in action.
Posted by Moxie at 1:09 AM
August 3, 2002
incriminating evidence | the cigar club
incriminating evidence | the cigar club
Brian Linse flashed his full clearance security badge and the heavily armed guard led us through the steel sliding doors and down the secret tunnel which leads to the bulletproof elevator for the Grand Havana Room. We had just grabbed a few cubans from his locker, located right next to Mel Gibson's and a few down from Arnold's. Just as we settled into a nice comfy table some dude comes running up to us:
him: oh my gawd, it's MOXIE!!!!
linse: yeah step away from the Mox, young man.
moxie: do i know you?
him: you should.
moxie: really?? that's interesting, i know a lot of people and you aren't one of them....
him: i know you watch a lot of daytime teevee.
moxie: oh, so you read moxie?
him: everyday.
moxie: that means your keys to success are probably locked inside your car?
him: you've got 3 more seconds miss thang. you've seen my show, i know you have.
linse: don't let this guy boss you around, moxie
moxie: i've got all the time in the world to figure out who you are, mister. look at these big guns.
him: whoa okay! but who here is still waiting for a british lady to ask them some questions?
moxie: Linse has a thing for british ladies, ask him.
him: who may not be a loser but plays one on teevee?
moxie: oh, that would be you!
him: still a few cans short of a six pack but getting warmer....
moxie: no way! YOU sir are the weakest link....
linse: goodbye.
I said to Brian, "well I knew he certainly wasn't Oprah."
Actually George was very sweet, funny and even let me try on his glasses. Brian was the best escort ever! But he'll get his own post on that later.
{hugs and kisses to Brian Linse and George Gray for their willing participation in moxie antics}
Posted by Moxie at 8:22 AM | Comments (1)
August 2, 2002
cats away | the mice will play
cats away | the mice will play
Interesting how history repeats itself. This past weekend must have been a good weekend for girls to go away without their significant whatevers. Ahem. The one X I keep in touch with, (we'll call him Nate, even though his name is Mike) badgered me to email with him, his girlfriend was out of town and he's lonely. So I IM'd with Nate a bit and mentioned that I was trying to find a man online. He wanted to see my profile, but I wouldn't tell him where to find it. None of his business, right?
Finally, in a fit of curiosity Nate emails the service asking why he can't sign in on his j date account which pre-dates the current gal. This is the same woman whom he's informed doesn't measure up to me. Why she stays with him after hearing that, I'll never know. I heard something similar from him and I was gone in a flash. But more about that shortly. So instead of sending the email to the service, he accidentally sends it to his girlfriend who is, as mentioned away for the weekend. He emails me panicked and at this point I have to point out that he did something similar but far worse to me. Karma rears it's ugly head.
{1998}
When Nate and I broke up about four years ago it was because I discovered that he was sending his X love letters. He had the audacity to leave one opened on my computer. From memory it described how sick he was inside over someone else standing in front of his easel. And Nate begged for her to come back and leave her current fling, I would also be history. I saw it. He denied it was current. But the date on the email didn't lie. He was writing to her from my own computer.
{/1998}
So after realizing his latest slip up he asked for help, suggesting I email his current girl. I refused. No more than a few weeks earlier he had sent me sappy emails about how much he missed me, how she didn't make him happy like I did, encouraged me to move back to SF so we could hang and signed the emails 'Love.' He told her he just wanted to see my profile and she forgave him. So much for karma. But I see the pattern.
The larger irony lies in the fact that this past weekend, my more recent X (pictured here. we'll call him Maxwell even though his name is loser) was in the chat room with me, Brian, Dawn, Brent, Shell et al during the blogathon. This is the same guy who allegedly got engaged 4 months after breaking up with me.
I had a special little IP watch set up from months prior which records his visits and saw that he had stayed up until 6 AM along with us, refreshing both Dawn's and my pages compulsively. Every log in of his made us laugh even harder, especially once we were into the wee hours of Sunday morning. This behavior has continued all week, still evoking silly girlish giggles of how pathetic this man can be. I'd be none too happy if i knew my fiance was looking at semi nude photos of his X girlfriend.
Posted by Moxie at 12:35 AM
August 1, 2002
cropcircles | the real story
cropcircles | the real story
I have a little secret to let you all in on, if you promise not to tell those farmer folks. I've been responsible for many of the crop circles found since 1985. The Slade family, a long line of frustrated artists began the tradition early in the 20th century. Historically it's recorded that we fiddled with paints, brushes, clay, chiseled away at stone but didn't seem to have an ounce of talent despite the overwhelming need to create. My Great Grandma Slade -- we called her Great Grandma Slade, was the one to try her hand at what she used to call 'field art.' Once Grandma had to have her hip replaced, and my Mom was too afraid to fly out to these remote locations, the family tradition -the duty - fell into my lap.
The one pictured above is my rendition of a Kandinsky painting I really like. My art has appeared in Life magazine, People Magazine, The Globe, Weekly World News Reports and the Crop Circle Picayune. I've copied the art of Herring, Matisse, Klimt, and Charles Schultz.
Once I discovered photography I passed the job on to my younger cousin Mackenzie, who's sort of let the cat out of the bag. Now she hangs out with other crop circlers in smoky Greenwich Village coffee houses talking about the philosophy of their art form and likes to think of herself as a 21st century beatnik. They even wanted her to consult on the script for Signs but given her 2002 hippie sensibilities she declined.
Really we liked it much better when most people thought they were made by aliens in search of earthling blood.
So there you have it.
Posted by Moxie at 9:59 PM
