« August 2003 | Main | October 2003 »
September 30, 2003
Women over 40 endorse the men who can still get it up
Demi Moore has fueled women over 40 to seek a recall on men their own age.
Close to one third of unmarried women ages 40-60 would like a younger candidate for boyfriend.
Women feel the gray hasn't performed to their expectations and seek to trim the fat and find younger more muscular alternatives to govern their love lives.
Feminists claim this is a huge victory in the stride towards gender equality since 96.9% of men aged 40-60 prefer to date younger women.
Of recently divorced or separated men over fifty, women aged 20-30 were responsible for 80% of the break-ups.
"Love is ageless," Marlene Humphrey, 63, of Omaha said of her 30 year old fiance who is just completing his undergraduate degree.
"And besides my husband left me for a 31 year-old. I've one upped him."
Or downed him, depending on how you look at it.
Elsewhere: the mighty yog blog
Posted by Moxie at 1:33 AM | Comments (17)
September 28, 2003
last call: wuz that?
Posted by Moxie at 2:28 AM | Comments (17)
September 26, 2003
update on who wants to buy my go-cart?
Late tonight I parked the go-cart, even before I had pulled out my bags I heard something.
"How much for your car?"
I know, I know, how surreal given my recent entry. But this time was a winner.
Two Hasedic men were sitting in a parked car across the street. Complete with Peyas, black suits and Torah's in hand. In fact, I noticed dozens of Torah's in the back of his ford Taurus.
"You want to sell me your car?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"I love my car"
The one guy was eating something wrapped in a pita and they asked me my name. I'll skip the questions they asked about, "what kind of name is moxie" and my "it's a nickname" explanation.
"We live in New York. We're here to sell. Lots of money in Los Angeles."
I asked them what business they were in.
"Publishing"
I made the connection. They were selling Torahs. And bizarrely enough, interested in buying my German made car.
"Big business here, for the Torah. You know the Torah?"
"Yes"
"You won't sell your car?"
"No. Not tonight."
And I wished them a good night.
Luke Ford wonders "Is it gay for a man to repeatedly claim he has moxie? [I don't mean a man
boasting of intimate knowledge of a prominent blogger.]"
Posted by Moxie at 4:11 AM | Comments (11)
September 24, 2003
Well call me Green! (maybe)
I'm not sure how many people care about this issue facing California -- however they should.
Official statistics were cited tonight that placed California as the strongest largest economy of any state in the union, a 1.5 trillion dollar economy to be exact. [update: I can't find this in the transcript even though I typed it furiously as it was being said. was it wishful thinking?!] If the big dog sinks, he drags the rest down with him. While it may seem like the recall is "our problem, not yours" it is indeed everyone's problem. Just not everyone gets to vote.
Again, like the 9th circuit hearing this debate was more entertaining than informative
Debate greatest hits:
1) Arianna egged Ah-nold, he interrupted her and she said "we know this is the way you treat women"
The debate moderator Stan Statham of the California Broadcasters Association gave Arnold a chance to respond to the personal attack. Arnold shot back immediately by telling her he had the perfect part for her in Terminator 4.
2) Arianna said (I'm paraphrasing) To Republicans, morality does not apply to businesses, only to sexuality.
Ah-nold: Your personal income is the biggest loophole; I can drive my Hummer through it.
Despite the laughs and bickering, three very strong candidates rose to the top of the muck....
Here are my observations, as a side note, I was very surprised by my own feelings...
Top Candidates based on this debate alone:
1) Tom McClintock -- he's so far right he scares me however he had very clear, logical answers to the state's problems. He's an intelligent and capable man.
2) Peter Camejo, well color me surprised. the Green party candidate came across as perhaps the most trustworthy of them all. He stayed out of the bickering that Arianna and Ah-nold engaged in. He stated his points and while I hate to say it, I agreed with him 89% of the time.
3) Ah-nold. Oh come on, you knew that was coming. I wasn't overly impressed by his debate skills and he became snippy at times in response to Arianna's constant ribbing. But to ignore the fact that he's got the right ideas, is moderate enough to work successfully with both parties, has the required business acumen to manage a multi-million dollar budget would be a disservice.
Bottom line: I still plan to vote for the Republican candidate who is ahead in the polls. Best candidate or not. It's the way it is.
Posted by Moxie at 8:26 PM | Comments (25)
9th circuit blocks Simon and Shuster recall
I had an "ah-ha!" moment that turned out not to be. Was halfway through writing a satirical entry about the recall of Hilary's book when I thought to check in with Scott Ott of Scrappleface. Sure enough he had it covered. And did a better job than I.
Go read it! It will make you laugh. Promise.
Posted by Moxie at 3:46 PM | Comments (2)
indecent proposal
People are always offering to buy my old car. My girl. And I feel like a pimp at times.
At red lights, in parking lots, at the drive through window at McDonalds, stuck in traffic, and recently even a pedestrian waiting for a bus made me an offer.
I’m not sure if they think, “wow, what a sweet ride” or “that thing is so old it must cost less than a Kia.”
Not that it matters much to me.
But the dickering that goes on at least from this end is nothing more or less than a source of amusement.
“I’d like to buy your car,” the guy in the beat up Volkswagen shouts after he rolls down his passenger side window, by hand.
“Really? How much are you offering?”
“How much money would it take for you to part with it?”
“She's got a great ass, lots of mileage but runs well...how about 50 grand,” I say with a straight face.
“Bah! That’s too much,” he says as the light changes and he drives off.
Yesterday a serious looking man in a suit, who was driving a Hummer approached me as I loaded a drunk Wilson into the passenger seat. He asked me how much and I hoped he meant for Owen. No such luck, it was the go cart he had his eyes on.
“I value this car based on how much it means to me and I love this car. It makes me giddy to drive it. How about five hundred thousand dollars,” I said being in no mood to play the usual games with admirers of the go cart.
“Can I write you a check? I’m good for it.”
And you know what? I laughed, got in the car and drove away. Now of course, I wonder if there was any chance in hell that he was serious.
Not likely. But amusing just the same.
elsewhere: get unfogged!
Posted by Moxie at 2:56 PM | Comments (13)
September 22, 2003
best entertainment on television
I was lucky enough to catch about 20 minutes of the 9th Circuit recall hearing which was being broadcast by CBS. Funnier than any comedy on prime time while being far less realistic than network court room dramas, I laughed more in 20 minutes than during the entire past season of SNL.
If you thought the Candidates in the recall were clowns, the judges of the 9th circus have them beat. It was a battle of one liners bordering on slapstick comedy.
As I sat here typing the sentence above, a representative from the ACLU confirmed my observation with a freudian slip.
That's right, he stood there and addressed "the 9th circus" instead of the 9th circuit. I'll try to track down his name, but hot damn -- that's entertainment!
UPDATE: Likely mis-speaker was Mark Rosenbaum, if anyone can confirm or deny, let me know.
Posted by Moxie at 2:23 PM | Comments (10)
September 19, 2003
Lost in Translation
Back in June when I interviewed Scarlett Johansson for Black Book Magazine, I got to attend an early screening of Sophia Coppola's latest (and greatest) film, Lost in Translation. At that time there was only one copy of the film in the can criss-crossing the country for press. I was lucky.
Lost in Translation stuck with me for a long time. In fact, I still haven't shaken it. A rare feeling these days. Having seen a screening months ago, I'm ready to pay -- just to see it again and relive exactly what it is like to be an American in Japan.
At first, I had to sit on my review until the magazine came out. Then I had to sit on it for a bit longer because I thought it would be cool if I scanned and posted some of my own photos from a trip I made to Japan when I was 22, experiencing similar things that Scarlett's character goes through. Alas, I am still without a scanner and the film is about to open nationwide so it's a no photo post.
Let's cut to the chase. I loved all but the last half of the second act. That's film speak for the second half of the "middle" of the film. It kind of gets "lost" when for what seems like 30 minutes there is no dialog. But despite that, the fine acting, unique storyline and luscious cinematography, lighting, excellent character development and oh eff it...this is a damn great film. Not perfect, but a thumbs up experience.
So this isn't the Virgin Suicides. It's much, much better. Moody and humorous, it tries to do a lot of things in one film and succeeds. I'd write about the plot but hey, I do this for free. You can go elsewhere for that. Suffice it to say, it's a star crossed meeting of two people facing a mid-life crisis at two very different ages. Add love not quite consummated, humor and a colorful venue for spice and it's a great experience. Whether you have been to Japan or not.
The film is a winner. Worth the price of a theater ticket. And that's rare, these days.
There is nothing overtly sexual, you can take your teens and not have that "I-wish-I hadn't-brought-my-kids" moment. You can also have a the "I'm so glad I saved my family's Glitter and Gigli money" for a film that was well made moment.
A few last things:
Bill Murray. If you don't love him already, get your head checked.
This is a fantastic performance. Some critics say it's his best performance ever. I don't know that I agree with that -- he's a god to me -- however it is by far his best recent film. It is also his best trapeze performance crossing effortlessly between comedy and downright tear-jerking dramatic. All in one film.
Scarlett Johansson. What can I say?
She's eighteen in real life playing twenty-three on screen and does so with more finesse and maturity than most thirty year olds have done with like roles.
I would have been shocked had I not met her. Expecting some sullen New Yorker, Scarlett felt like my best female friend within 3 minutes of meeting her. For two hours we sat in a garden drinking tea, doing interview things, shopping for her Mom, applying scented lotions and doing the "hey, I have twelve lotions on my arm, does this particular one smell good" while holding up our wrists to the other's nose.
Having seen that Scarlett is such a real, three dimensional and great girl, not the least bit sardonic, sullen, sulky nor any word used to describe her past roles on camera, I hold a huge amount of respect for what she portrays on screen. In fact, she made me feel 20 again and I miss her! Check out Lost in Translation.
elsewhere: Brant has seen strange women lying in ponds
Posted by Moxie at 3:00 AM | Comments (16)
September 18, 2003
high school english
I always figured there was some good reason why my high school english teacher told us, "you have to write every day."
My high school english teacher -- we'll call her "Ms. Mitchell" since that was her name -- was a neurotic recluse.
We had nice wide hallways and not too many students crowding them but when Ms. Mitchell walked through them she pressed her back flat against the walls and extended her arms, one in front and one behind like she was trying to slip through a dark and narrow crevice. Eyes always looking down, she kind of bounced along the wall feeling her way to the faculty room.
She wasn't blind nor blonde as I first mistyped before correcting my error. No, she didn't even need glasses to see you rolling your eyes at her even when her back was turned.
In many ways Ms. Mitchell was the typical English teacher in a prep school -- she wasn't married, had that salt and pepper hair cut very short, wore no makeup and made frequent references to Sappho.
We snickered in the hallways about her Laura Ingalls styled prairie dresses and feigned tears along with her as she cried while reading a few lines of shitty poetry out loud in class.
She knew what we said about her and called us duplicitous as we sucked up and sent her our best wishes after she announced she would be taking a sabbatical to write poetry in the English Countryside the next year.
Sabbatical is a term in literature which means, "have a nervous breakdown and sleep with women for a year."
Before she left she reminded us yet again to write every day. I think it was a sinister plot to create 50 more people on this earth, molded in her image.
If someone like me who thinks fast but types slowly chose not to follow her advice of writing everyday someone like me might actually get out of the house and enjoy real life.
Back then, it was much simpler. A typewriter or word processor vs. interacting with people. These days, not writing every day means meeting people whose screen names you don't know, people who talk to you in real honest to god voices. New people whose email addresses you don't have at the click of your mouse.
This was my long winded apology/excuse for not writing yesterday. Carry on.
elsewhere: faux politik writes more often and better than I do.
Posted by Moxie at 12:45 AM | Comments (18)
September 16, 2003
Woman so Inspired by Tony Robbins Infomercial She Doesn’t Need to Buy $210 Program
So I haven’t been very productive lately. I got myself motivated the other night since for the first time in about 2 years I wasn’t feeling so chronically sick and exhausted that I wanted to sleep for 20 hours. I put on some old sweats, rolled up my tattered sleeves and turned up the teevee volume before I began cleaning and organizing.
It was late, I’ll admit that. Inspiration and motivation come at strange times.
My choices of network programming ranged from Carson Daly, to that older-than-dirt guy with the long white beard who screams about Jesus, salvation and points his bony finger at the camera 40 times a minute. The last channel I got with my shabby rabbit ears had some sort of Tony Robbins infomercial. That’ll do, I thought. I make fun of him from time to time but happy, positive thoughts are what I need as I scrape cat shit and wash moldy dishes.
So I listened. You know, people who were so enthused about Tony Robbin’s 7 day program that they spit positive thinking while bouncing all over the golf green. Talking crazy-talk about how they made 5 billion dollars yesterday. Exactly three days after listening to Tony’s CD’s.
Who can forget the woman whose entire family was living out of her 1971 Ford Pinto. Her 6 kids ate nothing but sardines – no wonder since somehow they scraped together 210 bucks and GOD (glances upward) only knows how they were delivered to her car or how she found (stole) a CD player to listen to them. Almost as miraculous as the Robbin’s delivery, a month later she found a rich husband. Thanks to that initial sacrifice Pinto-woman now lives in Bel-Air and enjoys a successful career as a journalist for the LA Times, even though she dropped out of school during the 4th grade and never quite mastered reading and writing.
It was a miracle-palooza and I listened to infomercials for hours. Clear skin, no wrinkles, a product that will get bloodstains out of your carpets. Real estate with NO. MONEY. DOWN.
So eventually I put down my broom, unrolled my sleeves and settled in on the couch for the long haul. You see I was so inspired by these stories of success that I realized – if I just watch enough infomercials my skin will clear, my house will become larger and cleaner, my bills will pay themselves and I too can make 5 billion dollars on eBay.
Guthy Renker is MY god and it didn’t cost me but a few dollars to the Los Angeles department of water and power.
also a god: allah, but you knew that.
Posted by Moxie at 12:00 AM | Comments (21)
September 15, 2003
California Recall Symposium
Last night I was the lone Californian who partcipated in an online chat about the recall election over at Right Wing News. Also in attendance: the very eloquent Betsy Newmark, John Hawkins the skilled moderator, the very witty Scott from Powerline, and last but not least Scott Ott who had me laughing so much I could hardly type. And that's probably a good thing.
You can read the edited transcript here.
Posted by Moxie at 2:30 PM | Comments (16)
September 12, 2003
what's that smell?
You know you are getting old when it’s difficult to distinguish the latest and greatest men’s cologne from simple but obvious body odor.
After conversing with a seemingly well groomed gentleman last weekend, I asked Smart Sara – was that cologne or deodorant-failure?
She wasn’t sure either.
Having always been a fan of men who smell like plain old soap, I decided to investigate. The men’s cologne bottles at Fred Segal confirmed my suspicion -- musk is the new clean.
All but a few made me wonder if I was smelling something people actually paid hard earned money for or a construction worker’s armpit. After a 12 hour work day.
In 90 degree heat.
Is this what women want in their men -- that they should spend 60 bucks or more to smell like they just spent 10 days crawling on their belly through the Amazon rain forests?
“Ooh babe, you smell filthy, that really turns me on!”
I suppose this is the same mystery my parent’s faced when the trend for jeans turned into spending upwards of 70 bucks for “new” faded, ripped, basically falling apart at the seams jeans.
It’s not so different from people who spend money on Bed Head hair products that make their clean hair appear slept on and greasy.
Either way, I’m not terribly comfortable with this new trend. It would be nice if these guys wore buttons, “Don’t worry ladies, I’m not really un-showered, I spent 100 bucks to smell this way.”
elsewhere: if you aren't reading annika, you should be!
Posted by Moxie at 3:09 PM | Comments (31)
September 11, 2003
9-11 at Disneyland
Two years ago yesterday my Father flew from New York to Los Angeles for a meeting in Anaheim. He called me around 11PM on September 10th 2001 to say he got in okay and to make plans for us to have lunch the next day.
I went to bed very late and the phone began ringing at about 7:45 AM PT on September 11th. My heart was pounding as it always does when the phone rings at odd times. It was my Mom. She said something about planes crashing into buildings, the twin towers being gone and said what words could not – just turn on the teevee. Because words just couldn’t explain what your eyes could see on the news coverage. (my original blog post is here).
After I hung up with my Mother in my sleepy fog I couldn’t remember, had my Dad been flying today or yesterday? Did he call to say he got in or did I dream that. Where was my Daddy? Wouldn't Mum have said something?
While watching the news coverage, I tried to clear my head for a second, sorting out what was real and what was a dream. Obviously the phone rang a few minutes later and it was Dad to say, “come down as soon as you are awake enough to drive, our meetings have been canceled. Bring your swim suit, there’s a pool here if we want to pull away from CNN for a bit.”
I drove to Anaheim in a daze listening to the radio coverage. Every time I passed a big truck on the freeway (would it blow up) or saw a plane above (California sent firefighters and supplies) I was terrified.
Met my Dad at one of the Disneyland hotel patios, as I hugged him tightly and more childlike than usual I thought about how these attacks could have easily occurred the day before.
We sat in the warm sun sipping coffee with the obvious yet unspoken news-withdrawal. Had something else happened? Was Disneyland a target as they reported?
I picked at the bagel my Dad bought me – he insisted I needed to eat but I was too busy thinking of all my friends in NYC and what else might await us when we got back to the teevee.
"Dad, I can't believe the trade center -- those buildings I looked at everyday as a kid are gone," I said.
Finally he said it, “the world has changed,” in his calm and soothing matter-of-fact manner. “Things are never going to be the same in our lifetimes thanks to these extremist Muslim maniacs. Killing innocent civilians. Taking down buildings. These enemies are cowards, it will not be easy to fight them.”
That was exactly right and as eloquent as it needed to be.
And I laughed for the first time all day. Mostly because my Dad dropped his incredibly patient and persistent diplomatic tone for a split second and more so out of nervous relief because I was so glad that he was here. More shock would arrive later and I knew it.
The powers that be had closed Disneyland so they could sweep the grounds for bombs and the costumed characters were lurking around the hotel and trying to make the disappointed kids laugh. Mostly they harassed adults.
The juxtaposition of the day's events and the location were almost too much to bear. I hate costumed Disney characters but the innocence and earnest efforts they made to make people smile brought me to tears several times throughout the day. Were they too crying underneath the furry costumes? Those masked people working during the most difficult day in recent history represented something that OBL hated about America -- the innocence, peace and essence of this country.
I stayed all day. We watched CNN and took short pool breaks.
After a somber dinner with Dad and his employees who have always been like family to me I got in my little go-cart. Goofy was nearby calling me a Daddy’s girl as I hugged my Father before heading north. While I wanted to be near my Dad, I decided not to stay in Anaheim overnight, I had a mental list; I had to email about 25 NYC friends from both high school and college, I needed to take care of the feline critters who were as perturbed by the teevee as I was that morning and most of all I wanted to see my boyfriend.
He didn’t want to see me. He didn’t care how scared I was. Didn’t care about the towers and at that point I knew it was all over. Three years down the drain. I didn’t sleep a wink that night and I cried for multiple reasons while watching the 24 hour news coverage.
Then my Mom called in the middle of the night and told me our neighbor hadn’t come home from his job at Cantor Fitzgerald.
if you have posted anything today that is in commemoration, please use the trackback feature. If you can't/don't know how, leave a link in the comments below. Peace.
Posted by Moxie at 2:15 AM | Comments (26)
television archive
Over the last two years I've received a steady stream of people searching google and yahoo for archived teevee coverage of 9-11. I originally posted the link (which has changed slightly) back in February of 2002.
A variety of links to worldwide broadcasts are available at the television archives.
{I'm having trouble with that website right now, sadly. I'm hoping it will be available during the day for those who would like to view recent history.}
Posted by Moxie at 12:00 AM
September 9, 2003
jet lag and other tall tales
I’m not much for dining alone but there is one exception and it’s always a good time. The sushi bar at a neighborhood restaurant is typically filled with people craving the raw fish but without a dining partner. As such the conversation is lively and you end up meeting folks you probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
The other night was no different -- I joined a bunch of other lone diners as well as a male-couple.
Walking through the door is like walking into my Japanese family’s kitchen after a long day. If I had a Japanese family, that is.
“Moxie-san!! We have your Bonito!”
That’s my favorite and the chef is well aware of my ideal menu. The bad news followed, no Spanish mackerel.
As we all ordered round after round of whatever the chef recommended, the male couple was complaining of jet lag. They had been awake for over 24 hours they claimed.
They sported deep dark tans, gaudy Hawaiian-style shirts and spoke of their vacation.
The natives were friendly.
The weather perfect and hot.
They ate the freshest, most delicious food they’ve ever had. Having arrived before the rest of us they were the first to depart.
The single man to my left said, “you don’t know jet lag until you’ve gone to Hong Kong." I nodded and chimed in about the pain that is going to Australia and losing over an entire day.
After they left the man-to-my-left and I talked about our travels to Asia. His roughest was, as he mentioned Hong Kong. For whatever reason my days and nights were screwed up for a week after returning from Japan.
I realized the two guys hadn't mentioned where they had been and I was intrigued.
Man to my left:
Yes, I do.
Moxie:
Well...?
Man to my left:
Michigan.
Moxie:
Michigan?
Man to my left:
Michigan. I know, that's why I said that about Hong Kong as they left. I couldn't resist.
Moxie:
Holy shit, after listening to them talk I figured they had been to Thailand or Fiji or somewhere exotic.
Man to my left:
Well, Michigan *is* the Thailand of the mid-west.
Indeed. We laughed and ordered another round -- beers this time.
great blog: adventures in troubleshooting
Posted by Moxie at 10:41 PM | Comments (17)
September 8, 2003
Califlower Gubernatorial Candidate Profiles
I don't know that I'll do this again, but since I was able to snap this photo of Angelyne after she tried to crash the Los Angeles Press Club party back in April, why not talk about her qualifications as a future governor?
-> owns pink corvette with vanity plates
-> understands the surgical risks involved in eye lift surgeries
-> personification of Malibu Barbie's proportions and plastic construction -- that's what California is all about, right?
-> fuzzy pink steering wheel cover
-> obligatory scowl as I photographed her (pretend I'm a press photographer as someone asks her about her stance on prop 69-69, just for a second)
-> believes botox should be provided as a free public service
-> her website says she is running for Mayor of Hollywood, not Governor of California -- but there's really no difference since nothing exists in this state outside of Southern California.
-> owns men who are 20 years younger and millions richer than she, but they are just investors. In her huge *ahem* billboards.
-> is a self proclaimed "expert with the gear-shift"
-> did I mention the pink shag covered steering wheel?
Since having a heart to heart with another right wing Angeleno about the recall, wherein I expressed my confusion as to whether this was California or Ah-nold's Califlowa, he pointed me in a direction I was not aware of before, a place where my own hearing difficulties had been similarly expressed. I can no longer rely on the guy who wants to eat the peep-hole's governor, I've been forced to consider alternative candidates.
I'll try to profile Gary Coleman next.
Posted by Moxie at 6:30 AM | Comments (8)
the truth about Bentley
One of my best girlfriends in San Francisco, who just happens to be a gay man told me once, "Bentley is certainly a friend of dorothy. Look, he has such fine taste in handbags and shoes."
I used to scoff at that notion until today when I found Bentley sleeping in my closet cuddling with one of my favorite summer sandals. Excellent taste indeed.
Perhaps it's my fault as I subjected Mr. Bentley to a chick flick this past week. A very kind reader surprised me with a DVD from my wish list -- Legally Blonde. The two cats and the lone human sat down and enjoyed this film that delights me to no end, in a guilty pleasure sort of way. The giver of the gift requested that Bentley review it, so below I have typed up reviews from all three of us.
Moxie's review:
Reese Witherspoon is no doubt a favorite of men but she's also a girl's girl. Yes, she's beautiful, intelligent and talented but only the coldest hearted woman can do anything but love her despite her enviable qualities. She's friendly on screen, you feel like you could tell her your deepest darkest secrets about high school and she'd never tell a soul but make dozens of highly cryptic private jokes about it -- in public. And no one but the two of you would know.
Having followed Reese's career inadvertently -- Pleasantville, Election, Legally Blonde, Sweet Home Alabama among other films -- she evokes feelings of that closest female friend, the practically-a-sister figure we all had or wished we had in our lives.
Legally Blonde is lots of fun but it's not Clueless or Election. Not that it matters much to this blonde, I'll always hold this movie close to my heart. I've been told to aim lower in life, never mind this is a story for its own post.
Back on topic, Legally Blonde is a colorful and fun girl power movie, well enough written with pretty good acting. Thumb is up. This blonde is legally entertained.
Phoebe's review:
I sat with my Mom while she watched this nihilistic chick flick. I was busy reading Nietzsche. Legally Blonde? Whatever. I'm an intellectual hippy, paw is down.
Bentley's review:
I got in touch with my feminine side during this film. I know Mom loves it and I love to share things with her. Also of course, I love to watch these hairless "people" move on the teevee screen.
Since I do have a color preference, all the pink things in the movie made me think of the days back at Cornell. I was just a kitten and we had a pink fuzzy blanket to curl up on at night. I scoff at you people who say cats can't see colors. Just wait until the feline revolution when we publish reports that you homo sapiens can't taste the difference between fresh mahi mahi and "blended ocean fish" guts and bones from a can. Just wait until I eliminate all SUV's! HA ha. Take that you fuckers!
I may be beauteous but I'm tough.
Anyway, as for that little dog Bruiser "Elle" carried around in designer handbags and dressed in sweaters? What a joke. I could kick his ass with both paws tied behind my back. All in all, when Mom's happy I sleep better. Though I never have trouble sleeping, but it's the thought that counts, right? Paw is up. Way up. Waving for food and a dude flick.
Many thanks to the sweet reader who sent that, it really made my weekend!!
go tell laurence simon that it's okay to stick with his Amish Tech Support name, please!
Posted by Moxie at 6:00 AM | Comments (7)
September 6, 2003
kick it, please. and hard
KICK. MY. ASS.
now accepting applications, job description updated.
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, liberal tongue lashings and moldy mayonnaise massages.
You: Master at mental tae bo. A tough but intelligent person who can keep me company as I do mundane tasks such as trying to get out of bed before I piss myself, genocide (eliminating the endless colony of fruit flies in my refrigerator) and organizing my junk so it actually resembles a 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. Johnny Depp types need not apply.
Other duties may include: actual ass kicking when I resort to counting the cat hairs on my bed instead of completing the manuscript that is due next month. Or poking me in the bellybutton HARD when I notice my X is STILL surfing my site two years after he opted for a lesser model. You may be forced to push my fat, lazy ass out of bed at such ungodly hours as 2 PM, force me to take a shower, or shove food in my mouth. In extreme circumstances you may unleash 15 volts of electricity if I mention either "lack of money" or "no motivation to enage in any remotely human like activites."
Payment: will include some cash (pocket change), food that you make me cook with the groceries I bought about 5 months ago. The house will be clean except for the 5 inch thick layer of dust. You will have an unlimited supply of toilet paper along with not quite pornographic reading material and kitties who will poop on the bathroom floor but give you love until you aren't sure if they are cats or horses. That's based on the size of their turds of course.
Applications accepted below.
Posted by Moxie at 6:00 AM | Comments (22)
September 5, 2003
this stinks on so many levels
New Zealand's Climate Change Minister Pete Hodgson wants to pass a "Fart Tax" on the country's farmers.
The perpetrator of the flatulence? The cattle, of course.
During a protest
"the crowd cheered and whistled as a cow emblazoned with the words "Not Guilty" was led up the steps followed by a man driving a vintage tractor."
Where the hell is PETA when you need them?
a cool blog new to me: the conservative crust
Posted by Moxie at 5:14 PM | Comments (5)
September 4, 2003
not talking about the weather
I have a really hard time dealing with the start of fall and winter. While technically it's still summer -- I don't look forward to retiring my straw hats, sundresses and sandals for sweaters, coats and occasionally gloves. Mostly it's thanks to the seasonal change of attitude, from carefree to the realities of life.
Along with that September transition from carefree to reality lie those certain anniversaries. For all of us there is the fast approaching 2 year anniversary of the most cowardly act of violence against Democracy.
As has been mentioned on quite a few blogs, the media's planned coverage is virtually nil. But why? Is it the liberal political agenda of big media -- "let's not give people a reminder of how well Bush handled the tragedy so close to the primaries?" Maybe.
Maybe not.
Perhaps it's a simple misinterpretation, "people are tired of seeing those images and want to move on." The possible reasons for lack of coverage are endless, but whatever the motivation the end score is a great insult.
I'm not going to get on a soapbox and get all of you sticky with sappy prose about why we should never forget. There are projects I have to complete and personal reminders of my 2 year anniversary of a life altering loss. On 9-11-01 a long term relationship officially ended. One that was by his account a few weeks prior, headed for marriage.
There are tons of thoughts I need to process while still getting out to enjoy the last days of pool weather. A very happy part of American culture.
This year to acknowledge the attacks I will continue last year's tradition of random acts of kindness and will report back here with photos of this beautiful city. One thing that will change is that I will repost my blog entries from September '01 (don't cheat and read em now!). And I'll even write some new entries about that day, when I felt so shitty for not being at home in Manhattan but safe for the moment in Los Angeles.
Posted by Moxie at 11:07 PM | Comments (19)
September 3, 2003
feeling funny in your pants?
Imagine my shock and delight upon finding out I make Allah feel funny in his pants. Yes Allah is in the house and it's a damn fine parody of the Muslim extremists lots of us think about, especially every September.
It's not possible to top Dawn's dildo shaking "Take THAT Allah" post. But fortunately I dug up this snapshot of various items that should help deflate Allah's tented pants situation.
Before anyone shakes their fist at this man, read his disclaimer (cliff notes for the lazy: no he does not hate Muslims) and then go ahead and float him a buck. Seems the job market isn't good for deities and his bomb belt is getting a little worn.
Posted by Moxie at 1:23 PM | Comments (31)
