Shall we?

The Crying Gayme

Don't cry too hard.

Yolanda VEGA!

For those who don't know:

1

2

WHH?

Better than LOST? / No Pulp Fictions!

Marketing Bullshit


And, Yay! The Tropicana Carton is Back

Fix your weave and don't bereave

"... I been wearin' it for years and I invested alot of money in this weave and it saved my life - it saved my life...like zoom zoom - Oh lord am I alive, am I dead - I'm not even 21 yet!... The back of my weave stopped it - it was in the back of my hair..." THIS BITCH!

Unbeweavable!

Fuckin Shickunheads

You gotta love the shickunhead register girls all around NYC. Their nails, their hairs, their attitwoed- all out craziness. Yesterday I was at my local Morton Williams's on the upper west and heard a gurl blurb out the above quote. She seemed to think it was maaad HECTIC because she had to text AND ring me up at the same time. Makes you wonder where these people will go when they eventually get their G.E.D.'s and graduate to Greased Titties. Imagine.

Just

Wait a sec...

we're not going to Guam, are we?

Where's Aaron? Why does Kate turn slutty when she's stressed? Who did they got to bring Sayid onto the Ajira? Did Hurley bring spare batteries for his Discman this time, or is that what the guitar is for? So many unanswered questions.

I wish you had believed.

Orator in Helvetica's Clothing

Not a geek?

Gracias Señor!

Blingh it bitches

So, I just saw the movie and all I could think about at the end was The Glitteress and her mastery of this dance number. If you don't know what I'm talking about, well then... just go to the movies. I know that The big G knows the moves to this song as she is the number one Chaiwalla in Clinton's Hills... biggup biggup. Oh Latika Glitteress, so profound in your movements... bring me another steamy one, will you. CHAIWALLAS!

New Style

So with the departure of my old stylist, Nobu, I had to find a new artiste to cut my do. Luckily, before he left he had one final word: "Kanoko". Kanoko is another broad that cuts hair at the same salon. A tokyo native and lover of tall boots, Ms. K gave me a more squarish cut and limited the extentions of my rear tail. I think I like it. People seem to think they like it. My friend Doc Marvy told me he liked it after looking at my picture of it (see above). Amazing how different a haircut can make you look.

Ouch

Everytime I have a toothache, I think of this classic Ren and Stimpy Episode. Enjoy. Hilar.

So, you wanna be cool...?

Click here (pay attention at 5:17)

Chocoiste

Dark Chocolate Filled with Raspberry on a layer of dark boy filled with man. Everyday is V day.

OHMYGD

AYEAS TO AYEAS

So, I've been thinking about the final scene to Requiem for a Dream lately. Specifically the disturbing Sex-show-pervert-money-throw-down segment where the old man asks to see some, er, um, "Ass to Ass". If you haven't seen this movie, you must...stoned. It is completely disturbing and crawls into your consciousness when you least expect it. Like in a dildo corner on 8th avenue. Ayeas to Ayeas!

I entered that phrase (with the correct spelling, of course) into YouTube and this is what I assed out. Lol.

XO Pussy

Listen to this

and dance naked

AAAAHAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Paris is STILL fucking burning, bitch

Cuz I see you - I see you, Ms. Ting, carrying with your Fauxnel and your banjee Marc Jacobs Sprouse attack. Work Plastica! Uh huh... to you too - the two of you kiki-ing down the street flailing your arms, parading like a helicopter gone Willi Ninja. Work Puta. And to the straights, conservatives, and fabulously impaired, we're all here to tell you that you better call 911, cuz it flaming up in this bitch. Bitch.

Valentine's Day Plans

What are you doing on Vday? Hmmm... how about going to The Mount Airy Lodge. Then when we come back we can head to The Milford Plaza. It would be great to visit those places. All 80's all the time. ".... Beautiful Mount Airy Lahdge!"

This Korean Bitch

O Genki De Nobes

Nobu, you've cut all of our hair, and now it's time to say goodbye. O genki de.. remember the fun, the laughs, and the hookers. They'll be with you always. Thanks for making my hair into sculpture. Thanks, too, for giving me a cigarette after each of my cuts. Finally, thanks for the final Japanese lesson after the soul food at the Pink Tea Cup. We will study and remember forever.

"Gimme more...

... you bald alien bitch!"

Did she do this 10 years ago?

How did she get her late-nineties face back after her fucked up surgeries?

We're here, we're Queer

Do More and Hah-Wee

Had a fantastic, art filled weekend.

If you haven't visited the MoMA to see the Marlene Dumas show, I highly recommend it. Originally, I rendezvoused with some friends (including Artner, who these days seems to defy the laws of physics as she is everywhere, all the time - very LOST), at the museum to see the Pipilpotti Rist room of large scale projections. In the end, however, it was a room full of hipsters thinking that that shit was PS1 circle '98. Kinda a bore and smelly too. Good ting we ran upstairs to check out the painting though. Thank god for our olfactory.

When isolated, Dumas's bushstokes are reminiscent of Abstact Expressionist canvases and stained fabrics. The gestural drawing combined with the dark, psychosexual subject matter that she paints leaves one with a yucky, but aesthtically charged feeling. Fancis Bacon, in comparison woudl get an NC-17 for violence and adult imagery. Marlene Dumas is still at Rated R. OK, maybe some pictures are NC-17, but that is for their graphic depiction of sexuality, not violence, nor horror like Bacon.

The most entertaining thing about the show was her lack of technical display when it came to drawing hands and feet. The woman can sure work it out a potrait, but Artner and I laughed and laughed at how inventive she was at disregarding a good delineation of fingers and toes. Do we need Dumas to do more. Nah. Keep on drawing those hookers! Art history will be the judge on how misogynistic it is to give them dildos, instead of hands.



Equus was also on the bill this weekend. Everyone in NY had heard of the "naked Harry Potter" play, but I hadn't learned about it's plot, nor themes until very recently. Some may attribute that to my emergence as a B'way queen. but I chalk it up to design. The poster around the city is fab.

I loved this show. The minimalism, the content (more psychosexual broohahhah), the costumes, the set design, the script... just amazing. We arrived the theater after a gorgeous bunch , all tired and a bit pooped. Once the show started, though, I was mesmerized. A drama about one boy's struggles with a fucked family (read as you will, I think we're all fucked in our own right) and his own sexuality, the show gallops and spins into a fray of sex and arguments soaked in horse sweat. A complete delight for the Armchair analyst in you.

On a smaller note, Harry's dingdong did take stage eventually. He's such a lithe, toned young man. Such control of his body. Makes me wonder if we should call them the Hah-wee potter movies.

And with that bit of size-queenery, I leave you with this...bye:


Prince begat Prance.

And Prance begat Prankus.

And Prankus begat Flankus.

And Flankus begat Spankus.

And Spankus begat Spunkus the Great,
who lived threescore years.

And Leckwus begat Neckwus.

And Neckwus begat Fleckwus,
the King of Spit.

And he said, ''Behold, I give you Equus,
my only begotten son.''

(somebody's Cray-zeeee..)



And Fleckwus spoke
out of his chinkle-chankle.