b) Tag ten people to do the same
c) Do not tag the person who tagged you or say that you tag "whoever wants to do it"
d) Fuck "C"; "C" is not the boss of me. This is my gottdamned facebook and I say do it if you want -- and if not? FUCK OFF, LADY.
1. I perpetually, mercilessly, and without shame or hesitation...steal magazines and pens from doctor’s offices; I am incorrigible. And speaking of heisted pens -- my latest fave writing instruments are the little red, clickety-click, logoed company pens used by the wait staff at Buca di Beppo Restaurants. I like how they write and how they feel in my hand and I have zero dignity about stopping in whenever I am in the vicinity to beg a few from a usually befuddled yet amused front hostess.
2. I came into my bedroom recently and found my teenaged son sitting all by himself at the computer and weeping at the beauty of Aaron Copland’s "Fanfare for the Common Man." Oh, yes, he is my son.
3. Sometimes I cut up onions and celery and just rub them and smash them between my hands and fingers because I like it how it makes them smell –- even a day or two later. It smells like Thanksgiving and family and blustery weather. It’s quite literally my favorite perfume.
4. I have a secret cache of ancient answering machine tapes that contain HILARIOUS messages from my friend, Billy, and his old roommate, Viggo Mortensen, when they were both starving, struggling, brilliant young actors. A few tapes even have the two of them serenading me with wicked, irreverent ditties they wrote themselves that are HUGE belly laughers. These will never see the light of day.
5. If you want to make me absolutely cringe and recoil in horror...just sincerely use the phrase “make love” in my mortal presence. So embarrassing. It’s just the worst sort of pillowy, horseshit, romance novel dreck. Ugh.
6. Aside from the two Superman movies (which I LOVE!), I loathe ANYTHING to do with superheroes –- including all films, comic books, graphic novels, etc. I can never ever understand the whole goddamned culture poppin' a chubby when a new superhero movie is announced, because they all look exactly the same and play exactly the same –- dark, grayish, grainy Gotham. Snore. God, I would rather light my own fucking hair on fire than to sit through another one. With all due respect, as far as I am concerned, you can take all your drivelous, monotonous superhero comics and their horrid by-products and sail ‘em right up your ass. BO-FUCKING-RING.
7. I always, always, always call women “Miss (Whatever-Her-Name-Is)." Don’t ask me why. I am not from the South, nor was I raised by or around people who were -- it's just something I have always done. Hey, maybe it means that I'm a real fuckin' lady!
8. Unbelievably enough for a woman of my scandalous stature and questionable moral fiber, I have never slept with a dame. Ever. But if I had the chance and could choose only one, it would be SUCH an easy choice. Hands down: Helen Mirren. Okay, and Susan Sarandon and Beverly D'Angelo. I'm such a make-believe whore.
9. I cannot get through the Elliott Smith cover of the Big Star song "Thirteen" without breaking down and crying. Its sweetness and innocence just kill me.
10. My theory on why the icons so popular in folk art and interior design right now (owls, birds, strawberries, mushrooms) are so ubiquitous is because the majority of people currently creating homecrafted art and buying hip housewares from places like Urban Outfitters were surrounded by these images as children –- their mother’s kitchens, bathrooms, and laundry rooms were filled with them! Of course, I am going to have to wait a few more years for my theory to be unequivocally proven –- when both culture and time move on...and we start seeing the French blue country geese motif, suffered by those children born in the 80s, appearing on ironic t-shirts, futon bedding, wedding invitations, and tattoo flash from Williamsburg to Silver Lake.
Remember...you heard it here first, kids.
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