Michael Fassbender to try on two costumes for size; The Hunger Games ups their drama quotient; HBO has a date with your DVR; Keri Russell makes some interesting choices; Kevin Smith isn’t a hockey player even though he plays one in his wardrobe; Olivia Munn is a journalist, no really; Wayne Brady will not be ignored. Continue reading
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams. Red, gold, and green. Continue reading
So the great joint parting of Xenu’s most famous inhabitants, Tom “Nebulan” Cruise and Katie “Jupiterdiah” Holmes has occurred today. TomKat will be no more, and so it is writ. This day in history marks the divorce settlement in a case of weirdness and speculation that has riveted every major news outlet, and simultaneously caused yet another bit of scrutiny into the batshit nuts cult religion that is Scientology. Continue reading
Please keep your arms and legs inside the Daily Sausage at all times. Continue reading
If you’ve ever opened a Fingerhut or Seventh Avenue catalog to find a page of mandalas and dream catchers staring back at you and found yourself wondering, “Who the hell makes this shit?” I have a story for you. If you’ve ever walked into a Flying J or Petro truck stop and marveled at a particularly engaging velvet painting hanging amongst the racks tee-shirts emblazoned with howling wolves or an “End of the Trail” theme, I know from whence they came. Because from 1994-2004, my father was the Vice-President of the company that made them, and for three years I worked as his gofer. I worked at Chico Arts– the original mass-market manufacturer of velvet paintings and Native American-style kitsch.
When I saw a woman walking on the street in just a bathing suit I did not say anything. I told myself there could be any number of reasons for such a thing. “Out patient” came to mind, as did “house fire” or “lost luggage.” My therapeutic self wondered if she’d yet to find closure for an unfortunate childhood experience. I decided that a woman walking down the street (of a major metropolis) in only a bathing suit was if not entirely a one-off well then certainly an anomaly. And then I saw another one. However this one was not alone. She was walking with a male companion and talking on the phone (indications of someone sane enough to be socializing.) She was walking right up the avenue, if you will, on the Upper East Side. (For those unfamiliar with this territory think: uber-conventional, traditional, society, kind of reputation. There was a time you would find actual blue haired ladies in the area. Today those ladies are tightly pulled and puffed.) There she was, strolling along in her two scraps of fabric, dyed jet black and white hair, and ink intensive tattoo spanning shoulder to shoulder. No doubt coming from a fitting, choosing a hat or on her way to plan a brunch. Continue reading
What’s this? Has True Blood truly given us a sweet and poignant moment of young, confused female friendship–young women just trying to make their way in a crazy world while being overcome with hormones they just don’t understand and can barely control? Babes wearing a lot of eye shadow and in camaraderie in the face of an everlasting youth and an urge to drink human bodies dry of their their very life? Continue reading
I missed out on the Age of Exploration by a century or three. There is nothing left on this planet to explore. So in order to do something new and different, I choose to travel in an unorthodox manner. For example, I recently visited every inhabited island in the State of Hawaii, including the Forbidden Isle of Niihau. I am also trying to travel from the top of North America (Prudhoe Bay, Alaska) to the tip of South America (Ushuaia, Argentina) by only using public transportation. Recently, I attempted to visit all 44 BART stations as quickly as possible.
Here we are again. Welcome back. Continue reading
