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January 31, 2003

policy changes

Ryan pointed out today amidst my misery that, "on the bright side, you have the supreme court reading your blog. I got a referral from you."

And it is true, I have noticed a huge influx of .gov domains, including the supreme court. I'd like to think it's Ruth Bader Ginsberg hunting for Joe Millionaire spoilers, but who knows.

While I hate politics and very rarely discuss it, I'd like to take this opportunity to influence some policy changes. Here are a few ideas I have:

-> All feline anal surgery covered by Medicare
-> Homeland Security shall be in charge of cleaning my apartment
-> Tax exemptions for all paypal transactions
-> Congress must immediately begin drafting a Blogger's Bill of Rights
-> All anti-war demonstrations shall be carried out by handsome naked men. Thorough press coverage shall be given
-> Free education for all writers who perpetually use poor grammar, incorrect spelling and run on sentences (such as myself)
-> All government employees shall be permitted to peruse moxie.nu for rumors and gossip about The Bachelorette
-> Disability benefits for the lonely or brokenhearted

My final suggestion is the creation of moxie.gov: the agency that will handle all matters of entertaining bored employees slaving away for the man.

Posted by Moxie at 12:49 PM | Comments (19)

January 30, 2003

Bachelorette | episode 4

The rose ceremony fell on Trista's birthday. C'est dommage. Saying goodbye to someone you care about on your birthday? Well I've been there and done that but the fact that the men gave her really thoughtful, creative gifts, surely made the process extremely difficult.

I for one was glad to see the ADHD-afflicted Russ go.
Sorry that's wishful thinking.

Greg was the only one eliminated.

She had some difficulty accepting that his entire NYC apartment was the size of her closet in LA. Yes, Trista he can make his bed, cook dinner and take a big dump on the toilet all at the same time. But he lives in a secure building in a good neighborhood. Greg probably pays $1900 a month for such a luxurious bachelor pad. So he finds dead mice in his cabinet -- at least he lives alone!! There could be a fat, flatulent, wife-beater-wearing roommate sleeping on the floor. I've seen it. Don't laugh!

But more on Russell -- he kept saying, "I know Trista knows me as a Silicon Valley executive" (of what? a long defunct dot com?) "but I took a year off to write a book about a man who turns thirty." Brilliant, Russ. You know how many of those manuscipts publishers receive daily? And reject? Higher than you can count bucko.

Watching his nervous face sprout open sores as the night wore on reminded me of Woogie, from There's Something about Mary. Hopefully, he's still on his medication. Anyone who auditioned for a reality series knowing exactly who he'd be wooing has "straight stalker case" written all over his audition tape. But maybe he'll evoke some yummy Ben Stiller and get his schlong caught in his zipper next episode.

His family asked in a bewildered manner, "well what do you see in Russell?" and that really sent me into fits of laughter. I wondered exactly the same thing.

Moxie picks for the final two are Ryan and Charlie. Ryan because I could feel the chemistry through the screen when they kissed -- he gently caressed her face as their tongues locked. BIG points. And Charlie? I don't know. Maybe she's a frustrated hairstylist at heart and the hidden desire to cut that greasy 70's mop has overwhelmed her common sense.

And if tabloid reports are correct and she doesn't take Ryan, I gladly WILL.

Season Finale Commentary

Trista and Ryan's wedding summary is located here.

Posted by Moxie at 1:00 AM | Comments (43)

big media | joe millionaire

Just another reason big media lurks in the HUGE shadow of blogs. If only google and yahoo spiders could keep up with the rapid input. It'd be easier to figure out what went on LAST hour.

The Sarah bondage fetish story was reported here at about 11:47 AM PST Wednesday in the comments by Kevin who spotted it at The Smoking Gun. It took the media almost 12 hours to figure out.

How long do we have to wait after something really important happens? Like Jennifer Garner has that sex change, or Dubya bombs the hell out of Pittsburgh accidentially. You know, steel country, oil country -- what's the difference?

A blog will report it first. Repeated episodes might force the big players to stand up and take notice. There really is some value to this type of outlet.

Coming soon: Bachelorette episode 4 recap

Posted by Moxie at 12:18 AM | Comments (18)

January 29, 2003

a day in the life | los angeles

While I typically defend Los Angeles as a fabulous place to live, we do have our share of new money, pseudo-royalty types. Mavis called, "Catherina needs someone to take the online driver's ed course for her. She pays well."

"Catherina? You mean Catherine?"

"Yes, she's rich now and bought a new vowel. It's very chic. The new vowel, that is."

If Catherina got in enough trouble behind the wheel to require that she takes this course, and if I'm potentially driving my go cart on the same roads with her and her Lincoln SUV then I'm not going to cheat for her.

And she's not a celebrity. She's just a busy neighbor of mine who hires victims of the economy to help her with random errands. She wants a new pair of black shoes, and you are off to Barney's. Return with no less than 20 pairs or you'll be repremanded. Get familiar with Barney's because you'll be returning the 15 pairs she didn't like after you pick out a dozen dresses for her to consider for that "dreadful" party out in Malibu. You'll be stocking her fridge, too. And she only eats caviar and unpasteurized cheese.

Catherina: I forgot to do something at home

Me:
Okay, I'll take care of it. What did you forget?

Catherina:
I can't remember. Just look around and figure it out

That's right. Figure it out.

Could have taken all day, but fortunately it was easy to identify. She forgot to blow out the dozens of anti-stress aromatherapy candles that are scattered around her posh abode. The refrigerator door was also ajar. All that unpasteurized cheese could have gone to waste.

It's tempting and far too easy to scorn her, however given my own desire for a personal ass-kicker I find myself rather envious. That's right. Someday after my book spends 2 years on the New York Times best seller list and I use hundred dollar bills as notepaper, I'll hire someone to tie my shoes for me.

But at least I'll be doing my part to boost the economy.

good reading elsewhere: Devra

Posted by Moxie at 1:13 PM | Comments (17)

tired

I've been getting close to 10,000 visitors a day here on Moxie the last month or two. And no matter what I say or do, I don't get a proportionate number of comments. Some people getting a mere 2,000 daily visits will link something someone ELSE said and still get 60 comments. I don't understand that. Where's the original content?

Posted by Moxie at 2:43 AM | Comments (57)

January 27, 2003

Joe Millionaire | episode 4

Will love or money prevail? This is the ongoing story of dirt poor Joe Millionaire.

Evan obviously anxious to “get on the four girls he’s got left” expects now that they are back in the chateau, that everything will be more “real.” Heh.

So he took Sarah -- the oldest 29-year-old I’ve ever seen, for a bike ride. Destination? Wine tasting. Much like the tango dancing lessons Fox couldn’t be bothered with the expense of securing someone who spoke a lick of English. No one can speak English on the show. Everyone knows some English in France. We Americans are the lazy asses who can’t be bothered with any language other than our own.

They kept “drinkin; and drinkin” until they were stinkin.

Sarah, not a goody-goody, has a wild side -- she can drink a bottle of wine, afterall. She’s already thinking about what they’d do with the money. How about buying her a new liver?

He wanted tongue so after they drove bicycles drunk…

“Ahh”
“Mmmmm”
“giggle”
“think it’ll go better laying down?
“Umh”
“gulp”
“swallow”
“SCANDAL”

{cheesy even for Fox}

Sarah admits the date was “effortless, yet more exercise than {she’s} had in months.” Good for her. She’s skinny, and we’re quite sure she needs her protein.

Cut to: Melissa M the hairiest girl on American teevee. He’s hungry, so he’s taking her to cook. “Are we cooking?” she asked a thousand times. Melissa doesn’t know what garlic looks like. “OOOOoooh, this is garlic, right?” “No, those are onions” he said. She can’t cook; her boyfriends always cook for her, lucky girl. And she just got her nails done. She can make salad though. Evan, fire the chef!

The meal is done and Melissa said it looked like “dog poo.” She should have recognized that the home cooking thing, is a part of regular marriage.

He asks about how she’d want to spend his money. Melissa wants to be a mercenary, and “bathe” kids in third world countries. Right on Melissa, since you can’t cook you might as well clean ‘em up.

Zora: He wanted to take the girl who hasn’t unpacked her suitcase yet, out for a walk. Zora’s afraid of getting her heart broken and admits she’s not into the fairy tale part like the other girls. Then they went horseback riding. She spoke of perma-grin and the two mis prounounced champagne more than a few times. Charming. Marry her, Evan. She's perfect for you.

Evan said being with Zora is a little like being in a Disney movie. Really? Nature? Horses? Champagne and a chateau? What gave him that idea? “This is so magical” she said. Exactly.

After the picnic Evan knew the other girls were out for the night and invited Zora to join him in the hot tub. Predictably, the girls return and it’s too quiet so they seek him out. Come on, haven’t any of them dated a guy who was dating 4 other girls at the same time? Have they no manners?

“The hot tub is hot” he told 'em like a true millionaire.

Zora was getting her bikini on. “You guys go and we’ll join you, sure we’ll ruin your date” the catty chorus screeched. Melissa M was glad she didn’t eat tonight and was off to shave her bikini line. The girls cackled as they realized they were ruining the date. Evan noticed with deer in the headlights accuracy that the girls licking their lips in a contrived and lascivious manner had crashed his date. But he was having such a great time he "didn’t want to leave."

With Mojo, they wielded swords and then she proclaimed, “I don’t think he can handle the mojo.” Maybe she didn't realize that "mojo" is a male quality.

After she whopped his ass, Mojo scared him away by showing him a check she wrote herself for 1 million dollars. Good for Mojo, I’d screw up the zero’s if I tried such a feat.

Zora is the one who says she hates saying goodbye to the women who were talking about her behind her back. The other’s chanted “Eeenie meenie min-e mo, someone’s got to go!” and “I got a ruby!!” Sarah, Zora and Melissa M got ruby necklaces as souvenirs.

Pearl, sapphire, emerald, ruby what could be next? Hmmmmm. My money is on "construction hats" as the final gift.

Posted by Moxie at 10:32 PM | Comments (40)

January 26, 2003

on the set

If you are looking for commentary on the Super Bowl commercials and half time show look elsewhere.

Sunday afternoon I worked for a friend on her latest film. She's asked to remain anonymous but agreed to allow me to tell the tales of the day. Of course, this entry would be so much better if I worked on it for a bit, but I know better than to write when I'm not drinking (Bass Ale for you need-to-know-all types).

I arrived a few minutes late for my call time, but no one noticed as the crew and even the Director were running around notifying us that the star's face had been "badly, badly burned." I thought of Austin Powers and tried not to chuckle amidst the havoc.

Yes, there was havoc on the set when the leading lady's personal chef didn't show up. She was throwing a tantrum...something about a macrobiotic diet, incompetent ass-lickers and Fred Flintstone.

So instead of eating the Spago catered food, she decided to sauté some salmon herself. Screams of bloody murder ensued after she flipped the salmon and a few drops of hot virgin olive oil spattered on her face.

She demanded an ambulance be called, and insisted her career on screen was ruined seconds before the makeup folks worked their magic. The starlet arrived on set calm, composed and even managed a few casual hair-tosses as the paramedic's administered CPR. According to the make up team and the registered location nurse, it was a minor burn much smaller than the size of a dime, but the sounds coming from her trailer led me to believe the paramedics had to search far and wide using everything they got. Those starlets sure get the best treatment. And for the record, those guys were HOT!

Now back to me, because I know someone will ask. I was playing an Olsen twin. I wanted to be Ashley, but the director told me I was much better suited as Mary-Katherine. "Mary Kate," I corrected him. And folks, I'm not smart enough to make this stuff up.

Stay tuned, and I'll give you the dirt from the premiere that is scheduled for roughly 10 months from now...

Posted by Moxie at 11:55 PM | Comments (31)

January 25, 2003

Moxie | interviewed by her childhood imaginary friend

So mox what are you doing?
You tell me

Why aren’t you out on the town?
Because I’ve lived in L.A. long enough to know that it’s cool to stay home sometimes. Besides, it's still early.

I agree. So I haven’t seen you in years. What makes you angry these days? Used to be schoolyard bullies…
Pictures of 9/11, ignorance and arrogance

What do you think of me?
You’re perfect. I created you.

Tell me about your life
I would if I had one.

No really
Really!

But you seem to live such a glamorous exciting life
That’s just my façade, inside I’m just a boring girl struggling to get out

Are you coming out of the closet, as a boring woman?
Yes, I lack imagination. I have nothing to say. And I can sit and stare into space for hours

Maybe you’re autistic?
No, just dull.

I’m sorry to hear that, you used to be such a fun child. Do you remember when we formed a band?
You mean the band that was “all hype no music”? Yes, vaguely.

What about back in San Francisco when we used to invent things like Non-fat half and half and tell men you designed peck implants?
No recollection of that.

You lie
No, I suck at lying. And you are kind of giving away how old I was when we last hung out.

Sorry. So I see from your website you are still thin. I’ve gained 25 lbs since we last hung out. How do you do it?
I forget to eat a lot.

Now you are saying you’re stupid?
No, just forgetful. Two completely different things.

Do you think we can ever do another publicity junket for that big film we made?
What big film?

You mean WHICH one? We’ve made hundreds and they’ve all won academy awards.
I must have forgotten.

Can I call you later? Carson Daly is here.
You bitch!

Talk to the hand because the imaginary friend ain’t listening.
Whatever, you're my imaginary friend. Remember, I can imagine you have genital warts if I want to....

You wouldn't dare...
Try me. Don't cross me.

Moxie: NOT a recipient of a Jarvis award. And I had a fancy dress and borrowed jewels on hand!

impressed by: jamie

Posted by Moxie at 6:35 PM | Comments (18)

January 24, 2003

now accepting applications

I need to hire someone to come to my house and kick my ass once a week. That's right. Me. You. And a list of things I can't bring myself to do. You know, SWF in a funk seeks S.O.B.

Me: a heartbroken, unmotivated mostly unemployed writer who can't seem to get shit done around the house. Open to electroshock therapy.

You: Master at mental tae bo. A tough but intelligent and talkative person who can keep me company as I do mundane tasks such as filing bills (preferably after I've tried to pay them), cleaning my closet, looking for and applying for jobs and organizing my life. Knowledge of feline anus helpful. A male or female Martha Stewart without all the "what do I do about my insider trading" baggage. Ability to quote Tony (or Tim) Robbins preferable.

Other duties may include: actual ass kicking when I start to lament about being single. Unleashing 15 volts of electricity if I still don't get it.

Payment: will include some cash, food that you make me cook with the groceries you've forced me to buy. The house will be clean, and you will have an unlimited supply of toilet paper, reading material and kitties who will give you love until you aren't sure if they are cats or dogs.

Applications accepted below.

Posted by Moxie at 6:15 PM | Comments (27)

January 23, 2003

Bachelorette episode 3

I guess the producers figured after a few rose ceremonies that there wouldn't be any tearful interviews after the rejections. The adaptable folks that they are, said, "who will receive a rose and who's ego will be crushed"

Apparently this is because you only cry if you are 1) a female and 2) brokenhearted.

A reader asked me to include something about the men cleaning the house before Trista's girl friends arrived. Jaime, also known as "Look at my teeth" around casa mox, woke up at 6AM to mop the kitchen floor. Bob sat at a table later in his underwear and told Trista's friends that the place was getting rank, "and needed a woman's touch around here." Not the best way to get on the good side of women. He might as well have said, "we're all bunch of slobs who can't take care of ourselves and ABC was too cheap to hire a housecleaner." For just a moment, I couldn't remember if I was watching Big Brother or The Bachelorette.

As usual, Trista handled herself beautifully. All but the date with Charlie seemed to be anything less than romantic. Location and atmosphere have so much to do with romance. So you are floating above the clouds watching a sunset? You're in a blimp with bulky headsets on...please! And her dinner with Ryan was beside the orcas' pool. Having been to Sea World, I can't imagine that it smelled all that pleasant.

She gushed about the first kiss and how Charlie makes her feel. And to that I say, "beware." We've all seen great dates go south quickly. More so, I wish she'd have time to see how it goes when they have to deal with the stress of work, money, travel, homelife and friends.

Russ continued to be psychotic but not clingy. He was trying so hard and even admitted that he didn't feel comfortable because he couldn't be himself. Seeing him get a rose was shocking.

Trista finally let the Moxie favorites, Rob and Bob go home. And that smiling doofus Jaime. Michael was pouting the whole episode having not been chosen for a one on one date with Trista. He's 24! I wonder if he's looking for a mother or a girlfriend at that age.

Roses went to: Greg, Russ, Ryan, and Charlie.
Only one guy gets eliminated next week. Let's hope Russ breaks and shows his insane, I mean aggressive side and gives the other guys a better chance.

related:
moxie commentary on episode four and the season finale

Trista and Ryan's wedding summary is located here.

Posted by Moxie at 1:48 PM | Comments (25)

January 22, 2003

Joe Hilarity | Fox's newest reality dating series

Mike Hunt an executive for Fox announced today the latest in the reality dating travesty. As a follow up to Joe Millionaire, Fox will be producing "Joe Hilarity" which seeks to expose women as the funny grubbing bitches that they are.

Bobby M. Cossack, the first regular joe has been scientifically proven to possess no detectable sense of humor. Producers forced him to watch some 48 hours of The Simpsons, Seinfeld re-runs and a few Carlin DVD's and never once emitted a chuckle.

After several hours of Conan O'Brien telling him jokes while under the lie detector, he failed the "was that a funny joke or no joke" test with flying colors.

Twenty-five women seeking a plump funny-man for a husband will be brought to his studio apartment in east Hollywood and wooed by his irresistable sense of humor. All things funny will be fed to him through his earpiece, where a staff of 15 of America's most hilarious writers will be sequestered.

Bobby will have been fattened up, coached on being jovial and a good conversationalist. Moxie reporters who have already seen the pilot report that he stumbled on the punchline during his first joke.

Feminist's all around the country are already up in arms about the network portraying women as "shallow, only interested in a man for his sense of humor" Robin, the spokesperson for D.U.H. (Dames who Understand the Humorless) said, "Not EVERY woman in America wants a man who can make them laugh. We are outraged at this perpetuation of an antiquated stereotype. Today, women are perfectly capable of making themselves laugh. If all else fails women can resort to marital aids -- for instance watch teevee for laughs, or read a book. We don't need to rely on a man for that any more. It's 2003!"

Joe will attempt to find whether the women fall in love with him for his sense of humor, or for the humorless bastard he really is. Will love or humor prevail? Only time will tell.

Posted by Moxie at 12:36 AM | Comments (18)

January 21, 2003

the 1st annual moxie weblog awards

Just like the real (silly) weblog awards, this is totally biased. Also much like the fairvue awards, there were no real nominations, or voting. Winners are based on my whims. It gives me a chance to show favoritism to my friends, and just a few of those that I read daily.

So sit back and pretend you are in high school, folks. These are the winners of my 2003 awards. As if any other stupid awards mattered!

best curmudgeonly canadian weblog:
Marc Weisblott

best american white-boy weblog:
Ryan McGee

best tagline of a Rush Limbaugh-esque weblog:
Dever: beating you over the head with a clue-by-four

best weblog by a great, genuine goddess:
Joanie

best kitty bukkake weblog:
kitty bukkake

best computers or technology weblog:
Doc Searls

best weblog written by a reasonable democrat ;):
Ann Salisbury

most humorous weblog of someone who spent a month in hell:
Tony Pierce

best patio pundit:
patiopundit

best designed weblog:
Emmanuelle

best kept-secret that shouldn't be a secret weblog:
Dawn Olsen

best weblog kept by the nicest guy on earth:
Matt Welch

best weblog written by an attractive single man:
Curious Frog

best weblog by a female writer for reason online:
Sara Rimensnyder

best weblog by a capitalist lion:
capitalist lion

best weblog by a man who's not yet legal to drink:
Dan the Goose

sassy impudence weblog of the year:
Rachel Lucas

Posted by Moxie at 11:01 PM | Comments (29)

January 20, 2003

Joe Millionaire - episode 3

Because I'm plain sick and tired of the extra three thousand visitors who arrive here daily just looking for rumors and recaps on Joe Millionaire, thanks to my friends google and yahoo -- I have just one thing to say.

Parisian Mullets.

That's right, Parisian Mullets. It was the highlight of the show and the only thing those of you who didn't watch it need to know.

The ever intoxicated Evan asked the camera man to catch the Parisian mullet, not only to preserve that image for posterity, but more importantly to educate the American public that mullets do exist outside the deep south.

They do, I saw it with my own eyes!!

Another fabulous quote from Evan:
"Nothing like watching two women tango"

Indeed. Also nothing like watching Melissa M shoot psychotic stares at the other girls through the thick cigarette smoke in the suite. Maybe she can glare at the self portrait he had drawn for her when she's back home and bitch and moan some more to her 10 cats about how the artist gave her buck teeth and crossed eyes.

But what I really wanted to hear Evan say is "nothing like watching a bunch of women woo a man none of them share any obvious chemistry with but continue along a cut-throat path because he's allegedly rich as all get-out." The show is so devoid of sexual tension and chemistry, I could almost believe the rumors that Evan was a former gay escort.

I said almost.

For that lack of sexual tension alone, I'm glad they are finally throwing in a hot tub next week. Maybe we'll see some more of Evan Marriott's fine ass.

But the best quote from episode three was when Evan tells Zora that walking along the Seine is fabulous for him too because only three weeks ago he was operating a bulldozer. Next time Fox, please try to find a man who can remember the lie you have instructed him to tell. Either that or cut him off sooner...I could smell the booze through the teevee screen.

related:
Next up on FOX: Joe Hilarity
Moxie commentary on Joe Millionaire episode one, two, four and six.

Posted by Moxie at 11:03 PM | Comments (39)

a nice post birthday promise

from Lane:

On your birthday, I will be the first friend there in the morning to help set up for your party so that you can spend the day free to be properly pampered. Not only will I not ditch you for my friend's band, I will get my friend's band to perform at your party. And they will end the night with a special birthday song that I wrote just for you. (Believe me when I say this is better than my performing it myself) Also, I would like to add that I am warm and sincere, kind and gentle, honest and attentive, sweet and romantic, intelligent and able to talk easily. OK, maybe not intelligent.

Why do men in the online world who have never met me appreciate me far more than men do in real life?

kisses to the very married kevin holtsberry who sent me the coldplay CD as a belated birthday present!! He rocks!!

Posted by Moxie at 1:43 AM | Comments (9)

January 19, 2003

An Oldtimer's Guide to Understanding Women

{guest entry by Right Wing Texan}

Moxie and a couple of other female bloggers suggested that I write a sort of guide to understanding women. Flattered, I thought about it, thought some more, and even went out to do a little research on the subject. Last week I twice went to happy hour at the most popular thirty-something bar in town just to see what the scene was like. Two of my oldest son’s best friends agreed to take me under their wing, allow me to watch them in action, and to shield me – at the Missus’ request – from any wild and aggressive fifty-something women who might throw themselves at me. While that didn’t happen, I did receive altogether too much attention from an ascot-wearing (I wasn’t aware they still made ascots) middle-aged man, until I was rescued by – get this – his wife! Go figure.

The singles scene has changed a lot over the twenty years since I last put a move on a member of the opposite sex. At the risk of sounding immodest, I was pretty good at it in my day and still get a fair amount of attention from the ladies – but it was an entirely different ball game back then. What I saw last week made me wonder how this country will ever sustain it’s population. I’m sorry guys, but I just don’t understand how demonstrating your technique for taking a slap shot, and in the process spilling a tray of drinks on your audience, is going to help you propogate the species. “Oops, sorry – I’m sure the dry cleaner can get that Black Russian off your blouse.” Nor do I understand how in the middle of a conversation with several young ladies, you think it OK to push them out of the way so you can watch a Sportscenter replay of Shaq dunking on Chris Weber! “Excuse me girls, this replay is a lot more important than anything you might be saying.” Nope – I don’t understand what you guys are thinking – I just wish that I were a thirty-something again so that I could corner the market on women. It would be like taking an Uzi to a knife-fight – no contest. But, since I am a happily married man rapidly approaching Social Security benefit age, I have no reason to withhold information that could help some of you guys out. And, in doing so, I may be helping the women I so dearly love by helping you to better understand them.

There is no single, deep, dark, magical secret to understanding women. Women are people too. For the most part, they have the same wants, needs, and feelings as men plus a few more characteristics that develop only after a nascent X chromosome is joined in the egg by another X chromosome. The resulting female is infinitely more complex than the weaker and far simpler XY combination that results in a male. These characteristics are the key to this complex, yet thoroughly delightful organism. I would suggest that the best way to foster an understanding of a woman is to first become her friend. Yes, you read that correctly – become her friend. Take some time to get to know her. You and your male friends became friends only after a period of shared experiences that allowed you to understand one another. Why should it be any different with women?

Talk to her and listen to what she has to say. Ask her about her family, her friends, and her interests. Show her that you care about her and are interested in what she has to say. Keep it light-hearted and non-threatening. Show her you have a sense of humor but don’t overdo it. Clowns are just that - clowns. Be a gentleman. Why should you treat a woman you have just met with any less respect than you would a coworker of the opposite sex? “Hey baby – great tits!” Yeah, right, see what that would get you in the workplace. Forget the old women’s lib taboos about opening doors, standing when a woman is introduced, etc. Those are common courtesies and are appreciated. Be strong, but don’t be boisterous or a be a bully. Women do like strong men – but not Neanderthals. Don’t play power games. I’ve never understood this particular male quirk. It seems to me to be counter-productive. “I’ll fix you – I won’t call for two weeks.” Lose your inner-jerk and don’t turn a relationship into a power-struggle. Give women their due. For instance, just look at these blogs guys! These women are independent, interesting, smart, and articulate. Even if the relationship remains platonic you will nonetheless have made a friend and I’m telling you – Women can be the best friends you have ever had. If you later become lovers, that is all the better. I can attest to that.

Women are amazingly easy to please if you will keep in mind these 10 guidelines to understanding women. Most should be intuitively obvious but apparently are not.

There you have it Mox. As a charter member of METM I gave it my best shot. If I have missed any important points, I’m sure that you and your readers will quickly set me straight. I might point out there are also some things that women should understand about men - but that wasn't my charge. As for you men, I know I have painted you all with the same broad brush, and if you don’t resemble the men I observed or have read about in these blogs - great - please don’t take it personally. If you have gained some insight – even greater – get out there and make some woman a happier person.

Posted by Moxie at 10:02 PM | Comments (83)

January 17, 2003

I'd like to express...

myself.

While I had trouble expressing late last year that was, specifically expression of my anal glands and not my emotions. I hate that Moxie told all of you about that. What I'm really getting at here, and what my therapist has told me, is that I need to get in touch with my inner kitty.

You Americans and Brits call me Bentley. The French have a special name for me which I may be beheaded for revealing, but I like to live dangerously, "Le Beauxnges" pronounced, "LE bahn ge" emphasis on the "le." South of the border where Phoebe used to creep around stealing tecquila they simply call me "El Banho" or el banholito.

Sure, you may look at me lounging around and think I should be wearing a Bill Cosby sweater, but really what I need is a smoking jacket and a walk-in humidor installed in the basement. I've had a pocket humidor for years now, but as my cuban cigar collection grows, I am unable to keep them at optimal conditions.

I'm very misunderstood.

My life revolves around loving my Aunt Dawn, chasing birdies and mousies and of course eating. You all may wonder how I maintain such a sleek exterior when I eat like a sumo wrestler. What can I say other than that I take after my Mom?

I do hate my sister. Phoebe is bossy, demanding and a complete beggar. I caught her asking celebrities to scratch her butt at the fiesta last weekend. And would you believe it? They did?

But back to Aunt Dawn. Everyone knows I run the joint here off Melrose Place, but until Aunt Dawn got here, I wasn't really happy with things. I'm too small to move furniture and clean to my liking. Aunt Dawn cleaned, helped my Mom reorganize and sat around and had sister talk for hours on end. I have a sister, but Moxie doesn't. She really needed all the wonderful things Dawn gave so selflessly.

If you don't know Dawn, you should. She's one of the most loyal, caring and true individuals I've ever seen. I know she liked me, but I was so scared by the roar of the vacuum, we never got to spend any quality time. I hope next time my Mom will have kept this place in tip top shape and I'll be able to sit on Dawn's lap more. But even if that doesn't happen, I just want Dawn to know that this little inner kitty digs her.

visit: dawnolsen.com

Posted by Moxie at 8:31 PM | Comments (31)

January 16, 2003

guest bloggers - russian nesting dolls

Moxie is busy fixing Martinis for the Wilson brothers who apparently never left after the fiesta Saturday. She found them passed out in the basement with a transvestite hooker and a bottle of mad dog.

So here we are, left to update this damn thing. You might notice that we don't have real arms, they are just painted on and your observations would be accurate. Just don't ask how we're typing on this tiny laptop keyboard. It's exhausting, really.

We've lived with Moxie since 1994 when we were brought back from Russia. She's never fed us, or given us a drink but we do reside on a nice little shelf here in her office. Occasionally Phoebe or Bentley will knock us off the shelf and roll us around. They call it "playing" we call it nothing less than knick-knack cruelty.

Along with the cruelty we have frequently been mischaracterized as individuals belonging to a certain group. So what we really want to do here is clarify the confusion. We are not pokemon. And we most definitely are not weebles.

We just won't stand for it anymore. Of course, we'd stage a sit-in if we could sit. But instead we're forced to educate via this interweb thing.

Well, we've pretty much exhausted ourselves with all this typing and there seems to be some sort of ruckus going on downstairs with the Wilson's. If you all are nice, the miszus and I will write again sometime and tell you about our sex life. We're quite sure you'd find it very interesting, seeing as we don't have legs, or the usual sexual organs...

thank you to yesterday's two generous tippers!!
visit: brian who makes me wish I were 10 years younger.

Posted by Moxie at 3:56 PM | Comments (62)

January 15, 2003

the Bachelorette episode 2

The primary reason I was unable to write about last week's premiere of The Bachelorette was plain and simple jealousy. Here were 25 seemingly sane and handsome STD-free guys who were ready to settle down -- some of them as young as 24.

While I can't find a man over 30 who is not attached to his guy friend's hip, Trista was faced with 25 men who not only claim they are done with dating but were chosen with her preferences in mind.

So I sat down tonight with a glass of wine and my furry feline boyfriend Bentley, and prepared for some more envy.

First of all I admire her ability to grasp the names of the grinning perfect toothed bachelors: Brian/Ryan, Rob/Bob, Jaime/Josh/Jeff/Jack. I see the producers of the show didn't spend much to keep them in a house as luxurious as the women were kept in, for the gender-reversed plot. So why give them remarkable names? I need an excel spreadsheet to keep track of who is who. And I have a genius IQ.

Personally, I would have ended everything after meeting Rob. Which one is he? I'm not sure after watching the rest of the generically named boys vie for Trista's attention. But my notes recall that he is cute, smart and sexy as all get out, AND from Texas. All those Ohio boys made my stomach churn thanks to recent personal experiences.

Our Christi equivalent, Russ whose eyes twinkled with, "you'll need a restraining order to get rid of me." somehow escaped not receiving a rose. But what can we expect of a woman who doesn’t know a flat tire when she feels one? I for one would have been out there fixing it, but she only figured out they had a flat moments before one of the nameless muscle heads fixed it.

In all fairness, our gal Trista really wants to meet a nice guy. She hates aggressive guys (one might question how psychotic Russ made it through) and she really believes the man of her dreams is in this group (even though Jamie also received a rose even after she said things with him felt forced). Personally, I got teary when she spoke of how long she’s been alone. I understand completely.

To make matters worse the men seemed to be more creative in their video messages than the women were in The Bachelor. Promising to rid them selves of horses, holding up the flat tire they fixed and reciting poetry.

I do respect that she got rid of Brook. If she’s allergic to horses, and his life is all about them, then she did the right thing. And who can’t respect her for picking that loveable dolt Bob? If I didn’t marry Rob, it would be Bob. I just hope I have them straight.

related:
Moxie commentary on episode three, four and the season finale.

Trista and Ryan's wedding summary is located here.

Posted by Moxie at 7:10 PM | Comments (40)

January 14, 2003

random thoughts amidst the silence

It's really much too quiet after all the guests leave. And I'm quite used to being alone -- I'm an only child, I've lived alone since 1993 and spent over a year living as a hermit after my last relationship ended suddenly.

The silence in this house that only 48 hours ago was filled with the laughter of my friends makes me feel introspective, which isn't much fun for all of you to read.

Mostly, I'm thinking about how blessed I am to have so many intelligent, caring and fun friends in my life. One day soon, I'm going to write a post about how amazing Dawn and Joanie were this weekend, but right now it's too hard to find strong enough words to convey their importance.

On a lighter note, I'm also pondering how quickly that "I'm not looking" attitude that men find so appealing wears off.

The good news is, when you only saw someone and/or heard from them once or twice a week, there's not much to miss. Really "_____" just made me appreciate Lucifer who would at least call me everynight to say goodnight. So it's right back out there for me. I want to meet the right one, I want the volvo station wagon, a few little Moxies, a dog and a slew of cats and a wonderful husband, who's also my best friend.

As the saying goes, Quit early -- only losers stay in a situation that they have been losing from the start. At least I didn't waste too much of my time. And all of you can finally put to rest the suspicion that my bad luck with men is made up!

Posted by Moxie at 6:33 PM | Comments (29)

January 13, 2003

joe millionaire | heidi-gate

While there are already rumors floating around the internet of a lawsuit involving Evan and one of the ladies, it was difficult to get past Heidi's horrible mutterings en Francais and the Fox network's subtitles tonight. Fox transcribed, with painful accuracy her claims of "I have no bread baggage" or something like that. I had to feel her pain, I too have no bread baggage. C'est dommage. But I'll get over it.

I suppose Heidi decided to make the best of her early departure by trying to use her rudimentary grasp of the most beautiful language on the planet. Even a horse knew she wasn't worthy to ride him. I've always said, animals are good judges of character and when her horse wouldn't cooperate, I had just an ounce of faith in the equine species. Of course when Evan eliminated her, I figured the horse and he had a long talk in the stables. Man to man, you know.

Those who were hoping that "Miss parlez vous francais" would go all the way after making it clear from day one that she wants to marry money will have to choose from another money grubbing chick. Sadly, Evan seems to be eliminating them with dead-on accuracy.

Three group dates; one shoveled horseshit, the other coal into a locomotive, and others had to pick grapes in cold so bitter we didn't even see their breath. One might wonder why the ladies in the last two sets of group dates hadn't been warned by the first group that their date was anything but romantic.

Likewise, one might wonder why these ladies weren't perturbed as to why instead of getting to know these girls, he was putting them to work. I've had unromantic dates in my day, but the three shown tonight take the cake.

But back to the lawsuit rumors for a moment. Presumeably it involves the one he picks (sources say Zora is behind the lawsuit), but after viewing tonight's episode, it's equally as likely that it's one of the ones who simply looked foolish

Which one? Your guess is as good as mine, there are so many to choose from. But what lady wouldn't be pissed at having a date where the guy stands around while you bust your ass? That's what marriage is all about, afterall.

Related:
Next up on FOX: Joe Hilarity
Moxie commentary on Joe Millionaire episode one, three, four and six.
Evan Marriott, wrestler.

last but not least, thanks to this weekend's generous tippers!! You made my week :)

Posted by Moxie at 10:29 PM | Comments (47)

January 12, 2003

Special Foreign Correspndent

Good Morning. Da Goddess reporting live from Chez Moxie.

The fabulous Madison Slade's birthday bash was a success. However, the police, who arrived on scene following numerous calls from neighbors about a traffic disturbance, asked the revelers to use the valet parking that had been made available to the guests. Of course, the police did little to enforce this as they joined in the festivities.

Neighbors, awakened by the loud music, laughter and limousines, were heard to say that there were more celebrity sightings than a Hollywood movie premiere. Moxie's guest list included such illuminaries as the Aaron Spellings, the Wilson brothers - Luke and Owen (who really have a thing for zaftig women - who knew? I have the hickeys to prove it!), J-Lo and Ben, Gary Coleman, Taye Diggs, and many, many more. A very private woman, with the initials N.K., asked that her attendance be kept under wraps, as did many others - not wanting to steal the spotlight from the woman of the hour.

The party was in full-swing by 9pm. Friends and Moxie-struck fans travelled from around the world to honor the birthday girl. Late arrivals were turned away at the door when full capacity had been reached, and exceeded, by 9:15. Those turned away, spent hours circling the block hoping to gain entre as supermodels and starlets, producers and directors staggered to their chauffeur-driven cars.

The catering was superb! The bartenders and waiters, resplendant in leather hot pants and black tie, were exquisite. Chiseled perfection as far as the eye could see.

This reporter, weary from the gala and the Wilson brothers, will drive south in a few short hours to resume her normal humdrum life, happy in the knowledge that she shared a hot kiss with N.K. and slept with the ever-enchanting Dawn, Bentley, and Phoebe. Life will never be the same.

For Clash and Nihilist, thanks for the quality ass, gentleman. I shall never forget our stolen moments........once I managed to escape the clutches of the Wilsons, of course.

Da Goddess, reporting live from Los Angeles.

Posted by Moxie at 12:26 PM | Comments (12)

January 8, 2003

dawn's visit

Tony Pierce and I were talking tonight about the arrival of Dawn Olsen in Los Angeles tomorrow....

dumbass:you guys should go on The Price is Right
onedirgrrl: Hahahaha
onedirgrrl: fabulous idea
onedirgrrl: we'll wear our "The price is UP YOURS" t-shirts
dumbass:aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
onedirgrrl: but all those ladies have huge tits that bob up and down while they jump when
their name is called
onedirgrrl: I'd have to stuff my bra. With water balloons.
dumbass:you know thats not random, right
dumbass:they pick the people as they walk through
dumbass:they just dont tell them
onedirgrrl: of course it is random...you wouldn't suggest that women are chosen by the size of their breasts and the tightness of their tee shirts, right?
dumbass:by their tv personality
dumbass:which might include boobs
onedirgrrl: or tattooes of Bob Barker on their ass
onedirgrrl: which I HAVE
dumbass:ahahaha
onedirgrrl: okay that's it
onedirgrrl: I'm posting this portion of the conversation
dumbass:which portion?
onedirgrrl: the price is right portion
dumbass:good!
onedirgrrl: what did you think I meant, the tattoo of bob barker on my ass cheek?
dumbass:yes
onedirgrrl: ah, maybe....
onedirgrrl: someday when I make 80K off my website during a weeklong fund drive

Posted by Moxie at 10:36 PM | Comments (37)

the games people play and why they don't work

Been thinking about all the gender issues that have come to light based on the premiere of Joe Millionaire. While not an exhaustive list, I took a mental inventory of the games guys have played with me and asked a guy friend about his own experiences:

1) Waiting three days to call

Why they do it: No one wants to appear desperate and somewhere along the line this rule was established as a "good idea."
Why it doesn't work: From my perspective, it labels the man as a game player and therefore someone who's not really looking for an honest and communicative relationship. More women are impressed by a man who calls right away, a la "I couldn't wait to talk to you again" and schedules the next date.

2) Lying

Why they do it: Because maybe those pants really do make you look fat, or he is seeing someone else, or that phone call in the middle of the night was from his wife.
Why it doesn't work: Relationships are built on trust and honesty. We know our ass looks fat in those pants, and you just said it didn't. With the more difficult lies, body language tends to give it away. For instance, my X boyfriend never looked me in the eyes when he said "I love you" whether one chooses to acknowledge their instincts is another story altogether.

3) Jekyl and Hyde

Why they do it: You have a fabulous time when you are together but when you aren't s/he's always busy so the dates, phone calls and emails are sparce. What better way to appear desireable and mysterious to someone else, right?
Why it doesn't work: Out of sight out of mind baby. Dorthy, we aren't in high school anymore.

4) I've only slept with 5 people, no really!

Why they do it: They know the real number won't make you happy.
Why it doesn't work: This isn't a jealousy issue, and not a question that should be asked at all. If you are concerned about health risks, ask them to head down to the doctor for the barrage of tests. No matter what number they give you, you aren't going to like it.

5) It's not you -- it's me

Why they do it: It *is* you and they just aren't comfortable enough to tell you what the real problem is.
Why it doesn't work: You're closing a door. A little communication goes a long way and I've seen it repair frayed relationships that ended up working out into a happy marriage. We're all grownups and can handle hearing the truth, if diplomatically phrased.

What have I forgotten?

more shocking dating truths

Posted by Moxie at 11:43 AM | Comments (25)

January 7, 2003

can't wait to see more of joe

Joe Millionaire that is, and it premiered on Fox tonight. I'll be recapping this latest perverse romantic thriller, as well as The Bachelorette which begins on January 8th.

Joe Millionaire is aimed at exposing what money grubbing b*tches women are, and I'm shocked at the entire concept. And not because of the money. That's a tired story as far as I'm concerned. Primarily I'm shocked because I don't think that the money issue is what's inherently wrong/interesting in this latest reality series.

Granted being whisked off to France to meet a man who just inheirted 50 million dollars isn't exactly reality, but to meet and get to know someone who's essentially lying about himself in any sense doesn't seem like an auspicious start. Thankfully, the devastatingly handsome, endearingly awkward and very real Evan Marriott, the "average Joe" and star of the series admitted that he was bothered by having to tell the "biggest lie of his life." However, if it bothers him to lie, I question why he agreed to do the show at all.

All women have certain expectations of the men they court. For instance, I'm fond of funny, intelligent and independent men who possess an active sense of humor. A man whose top priority isn't beer and his guy friends, but rather finding a woman to build a life with. Even if that means it's not me he wants long term. So I can only imagine how I'd feel if I got to know someone under false pretenses. Namely that much of what I absorbed was a lie...all in the name of network entertainment.

It was abundantly clear that some of these women were indeed looking for a provider. Historically, men were the providers, women were the caregivers, the ones who gave birth, nursed and cared for the family. While marrying for money is a foolish mistake, I fail to see why these women should be scorned for wanting a man who can provide for their needs. Most of these women were financially successful in their own right, doctors, executives, lawyers. Doesn't seem far fetched that they'd want someone at least as ambitious and successful as themselves.

While watching tonight I was overwhelmed -- if you look closely, the show isn't about if "love conquers all" rather it's about how forgiving a woman can be, about how much shit she's willing to take.

Don't agree? Assume for instance, that you meet someone who tells you s/he just {insert lie here}. Suitable examples may be adopted a child, was accepted into grad school, or moved to Poughkeepsie. That's something about them that defines who they are, what they are like and what the future holds. Having money or the lack thereof does define our life to some extent. It shapes what we do, where we go and how we think.

I'm quite curious how Evan expects to see which woman likes him for him (not hard to do from what I saw tonight) or for how much money she perceives to be in his bank account before the secret is revealed. Previews for next week show the girls shoveling horseshit.

I'd much rather have seen the reverse -- a belching "Average Joe" who lives in a white trash trailer park in central Florida and lives off welfare. And only after his selected mate accepts or declines would he reveal that he's actually a millionaire. But clearly matchmaking with a happier surprise ending isn't Fox's top priority.

related:
Next up on FOX: Joe Hilarity
Moxie commentary on episode TWO, three and four of Joe Millionaire
smoking gun photos of Evan modeling bathing suits

Posted by Moxie at 11:53 AM | Comments (127)

January 4, 2003

beauty bar

When I wasn't dating anyone, I could go to a bar with my girlfriends and not a single man would talk to me. Now that I'm not terribly interested in talking to strange men in a bar, and would rather enjoy the company of my friends, it's become nearly impossible. Last night Mavis and I went to the Beauty Bar for some girl's night out action.

Him: Will you marry me?
Me: No, I'm sorry I don't even know you, besides I don't think the guy I'm dating would approve.
Him: He doesn't have to know.
Mavis: Actually mister, Moxie and I are having a torrid love affair
Him: Groovy, can I watch?
Me: Only if Mavis and I can watch you and your male friend over there get it on
Him: Not the same thing....not the same thing at all

Sometimes, it's crucial to get a bit more creative....

Some Guy: So, can I call you?
Me: Sure, but don't be alarmed if my husband picks up the phone. He works for the CIA, so he's not home a lot
Some Guy: He's a lucky man to have you
Me: Yep
Some Guy: I hope he realizes that
Me: My handbag is bugged, so he certainly does now.

And while I consider Los Angeles to have many intelligent citizens, this guy wasn't one of them.

Clueless Guy: Where did you go to college?
Me: Cornell
Clueless Guy: Cornell? Never heard of it. Is it here in the US?
Me: Yes
Clueless Guy: So what do you do?
Me: I'm a writer
Clueless Guy: So are you going to do that like for the rest of your life?
Me: Sure
Clueless Guy: Is it just a hobby?
Me: It's what I do right now, period.
Clueless Guy: Do you like it?
Me: Yes
Clueless Guy: So why do you live in LA? I mean, you went to college abroad and all
Me: Not for the intelligent nightlife, I can tell you that.

Posted by Moxie at 12:50 PM | Comments (26)

January 3, 2003

third annual weblog awards

Nominations are now being accepted for the Third Annual Weblog Awards. While the prizes and such are more symbolic than significant, this is a great opportunity for recognition in a mostly thankless endeavor.

Here are just a few of the folks you *should* be reading and nominating!

Ann Salisbury, Tony Pierce, Dawn Olsen, tha Weis, Doc Searls, and Ryan McGee.

Voting ends on January 12th.

Posted by Moxie at 9:27 AM | Comments (10)

because what you wear is important

Way back when I had a job, the new girl in the micro-mini was running around the office in her high heels, arms wrapped around her boobs, which were nearly popping out of the top of her skimpy sleeveless blouse.

"Is so cold….this rain…so bad. Is wet all over. So much rain in LA. Too wet. Is cold like this in Italy, hate rain" her broken English was charming, however her inappropriate seasonal choice of clothing was not.

"Why don't you put on a sweater, Mirabelle?" I suggested. "It's 48 degrees outside, and raining!"

"Oh, I know…the rain! So wet. I have no sweaters, I no know is so cold here. My boobies are SO cold."

Sleeveless, low cut blouse?
Boobies?
Cold?
Wow! What a surprise!

No one in the office really knew what she did, other than inform everyone that her headlights were "on." Had she been born and bred in California, I'm sure our Managing Director would have pulled Mirabelle into her office immediately for a "that's not appropriate language in a business setting" speech. But we all brushed it off, and spoke of it in whispers at company happy hours.

We all hunkered down and hoped for warm weather but it was a long cold winter. Of course it continued, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this story.

"Moxie? Is your boobies cold?" she asked me one morning before I had my coffee. And I'm not good with people before I've had my coffee.

"IS MY BOOBIES COLD?" I mimicked her and suppressed laughter. "No Mirabelle, they aren't," I continued, and lowered my voice, "you know, I'm wearing something called a BRA and over that I'm wearing a heavy sweater. In fact, I also have a coat here as well, but I'm not wearing it because it's damn hot in here."

"Oh, I see. I wish I had sweater."

I wanted to scream, "they pay you to be here everyday. Everyday when instead of working you run around holding your tits. They pay you very well Mirabelle, you can AFFORD a sweater." I mean, the rest of us were actually working hard, we wore sweaters -- I didn't see Bruce telling everyone that his balls were frozen. I didn't say my coochie was chilled. Jaime didn't explain to everyone that would listen that her butt was iced solid to the point of constipation. Why not? Why not you ask?!

Because our dot com had not yet turned off the heat to save money. In fact, there was more than one of us in the ladies room at any given time, swabbing our underarm area with soap, water and paper towels, then vigorously applying and reapplying Mitchum. We'd then plead with the receptionist to turn the heat down. She wouldn't of course, because Mirabelle had already told her how desperately cold she and her "twins" were.

When Mirabelle wasn't talking about her "boobies" she would often drop to her knees when I entered the building. She'd feel the fabric of my pants, sometimes smell it, or caress the seams in an inappropriate manner. "I sew," she'd remind us, when someone -- usually me, would look at her like she's insane. I felt violated.

Sometimes I spoke with a fellow female co-worker about a class action lawsuit against Mirabelle. For sexual harassment, and many hours of productivity lost convincing her to buy a sweater so she'd stop talking about her iced hooters. We were sure that she was suppressing her sexual preference. We felt her booby-talk was inappropriate, and unwelcome. Especially when she'd smell my pants. She didn't often tell the men that her boobies were cold. I never saw her licking or smelling one of the tech guy's pants.

Fast forward more than a few months for pure irony. Mirabelle was eventually let go, for lack of productivity. But in turn she sued the dot com and won for sexual harassment, inhospitable working environment and cultural discrimination. I don't know if it's commonplace for professional women to talk about their frozen breasts in the workplace in Italy, especially when the office temperature averaged around 80 degrees. But if our management had any brains at all, they would have called me as a defense witness. I think we could have won the case.

Posted by Moxie at 8:56 AM | Comments (17)

January 1, 2003

holiday photo

Christmas Eve, 2002. Photo taken by me of course!

Posted by Moxie at 9:43 AM | Comments (11)