Parties

I normally don't like parties. There is a quote from the movie Temple Grandin about how she feels about parties- something like "I hate parties- everyone is standing around giving me looks and I don't know what they mean." I can definitely relate to that. I have great difficulty if I sense that someone is being disingenuous. I have figured out that is part of the party game. And it's not bad. You put on your best face. Even a semi-fake face, to get to know people, put people at ease. That is very hard for me to do. A party is not the time to bring your normal self, the self with all the baggage.

Generally, I feel more comfortable in a costume. I dressed up as Julia Child for the Oscar party. I became aware that people saw me as Julia Child not Jeremy. Obviously, people knew I wasn't the real Julia Child. But when they looked at me- they didn't think- "Who is that guy?" If even remotely, they had some way to categorize me in their head. I let the costume do the talking for me.

Socializing in large groups exhausts me. Temple Grandin's mother tried to get her to socialize, even though it exhausted her too, threw her into panic attacks. I am exactly the same way. Her mother wouldn't let her leave parties though. She would bring her into a room and let her calm down and then she would be ok to carry on. I realize that this has worked for me too and I just haven't realized it.

I need a panic room for a party. A room I can go to depressurize.

God Bless The Outcasts

Today I did not go to McDonalds. I just wanted to eat without homeless people around. As terrible as that sounds, it's the god's honest truth and I would say it to their face. It's not about them, it's about me.

Yesterday I did go to McDonalds. As I ate my McChicken I looked around and seventy five percent of the patrons were homeless. One woman sat snoring with the remnants of a Value Meal strewn before her. Another sat on what must have been her coffee break from roaming the streets, large bags full of plastic bags at her feet.

Today I decided to go to Jimmy Johns. While I stood outside having my pre-meal cigarette, a small man in a dirty winter jacket wandered around with a styrofoam cup. He carried a sign that said something about how he had the AIDS virus and needed money. I don't know exactly what it said, I read it quickly. It was a very large sign with lots of words and I was just too tired.

I chose Jimmy Johns because they don't seem to cater to the homeless. It's a cheery place with Kitschy signs that create a very relaxed environment for the temporary employee on their break. I sat down and ate my "Pepe" or "Tom Tom" or whatever whimsical name they have for a ham sandwich and read The Onion. In the world of Jimmy Johns and The Onion the world is a sarcastic, smirky, condescending place- we're all in on one big inside joke and we love it.

The thing is, I identify so strongly with that man on the street carrying that sign that it scares the hell out of me. In my head, I am just one missed Comcast payment away from being homeless. I can see myself so clearly wandering the streets with a sign "Please spare some change- No Netflix."

Yesterday I bought some RC on the way home. RC. That's how bad it's getting.

And what do I plan to do about. For the moment I plan to have another cigarette and take a nap, thank you very much. It's been a complicated week full of data entry and American Idol -my head is spinning.

It's good to be back.

The Jeremy Show Interviews: Author Mike Albo

With all my favorite shows in reruns (except for Big Brother, The Fashion Show, Whale Wars, Deadliest Catch, Cake Boss, etc.) I've had the opportunity to read a little bit more. I came across a wonderful gay memoir in the Chicago Public Library called Hornito: My Lie Life. The author, Mike Albo, was named "the ultimate satirist of the downtown New York social landscape" by The New York Times. We had a wonderful conversation- I thought I'd share it with you.

You wrote your book Hornito: My Lie Life in 2000, pre-9/11, pre-Two Girls and One Cup. When you look back on writing it, getting it published, seeing it for the first time- what memory stands out to you the most?
Ha...I love that you put 9-11 and Two Girls and One Cup in the same sentence! Bravo! Hornito was not just a book of the moment before all that, it was very much a collection of images and emotions and stories from my brain since birth. That book is the most physical embodiment of my inner life...and I am always so so grateful when someone spends time reading it.

In the book, you describe Eric (the boy you long for throughout the book) as being “only an advertisement for himself, smiling and offering a lovely vacation package to a verdant land that doesn’t exist.” Do you feel like you exist in your work? Or are you offering a lovely vacation package?
Oh man I love your questions. Its tough...at least for me, writing is about trying to connect. I want to pour as much as possible of myself into a book. Its kind of a snag for me because I just cant simply tell a story like some major pro like Stephen King or Dean Koontz. Even the Underminer is emotional to me — that book was about my frustration with post 9-11 America...with Bush, Paris Hilton, and the whole “Lets Go Shopping” era...it was my screed against what total mindless crap becomes successful in this country. But at the same time...I know that to actually write something and have people read it, you have to become an advertisement of yourself. Its interesting...this new book I am working on is all about people as advertisements...I don’t know if you and your readers have noticed, but now everyone is trying to be an ad these days...everyone has a profile...and if you go on Craigslist for a second (which of course I do for total research purposes :) ) you see people saying creepy shit like “I suck dick better!” or “The best bottom in the Upper East Side!” ...people have become half advertising now....

On the back of Hornito: My Lie Life the tagline describes your book as “David Sedaris and Sandra Bernhard rolled into one.” Are you a fan of Sandy? If so, do you think she rubs off in your work?
Ok, first of all, just so you know, we scrubby writers don’t have that much say over the copy that appears on our books. We only have so many battles we can fight for...and that blurb was something the PR people came up with. I think its diminishing...but whatever....but that said, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Sandra B. I think more than any other artist. Ms Berhnard has influenced me. She is such an incredible, subtle, lovely, secretly soulful performer. And a great writer.

I found it difficult to carry the paperback edition of the book through my office because of the cover. It sort of looks like porn- with the primary colors and bare chest. Whose chest is on the cover of the book? Did you get to pick that chest?
HA! So funny. As previously said, that cover was not my choice. We C-level writers don’t have much power over our representations. I suppose I could have put up a bitchfest but that’s not my style...the hardback cover was designed by a friend of mine, and I love it. The softcover is good too..in a gross way. People pick up naked torso shots. It is so not me.

Your second book, The Underminer warns the reader against that person in your life that you’ve known forever, who you can’t get rid of and who is always sort of one upping you and picking at you until you are suicidal. Do you have any Underminers in your life or have you gotten rid of all of them? Do you think there is a purpose for an Underminer in our lives?
No one can ever get rid of their underminers. I truly believe that. I am still friends with mine, and he is a great person who I would never shun. People who say “Oh! Yea, I used to have an underminer rin my life but I don’t anymore”? Those people ARE underminers!!!

The design of your website, www.mikeablo.com reminds me a little of the Heaven’s Gate website. It looks sort of like a website for a cult with you as the leader. Did you go about designing it with this sort of feel in mind?
YES!!!! That’s exactly what I am going for!!! I am trying to redesign it now (It takes forever! Do you know how to do it?? Is there anyone out there who can help me for a really crappy low pay???) And it will be getting even MORE cultish and psycho! I am a serious combo of urban-cynical and totally, totally new agey. My friend suzanne calls me a “critical hippie.”

I just stopped writing questions and got lost in your YouTube videos. Really funny. How did you get into performing characters? Did you start out in improv classes or did you just decide to do it…
I tried to take acting classes but I couldn’t handle it.... I learned how to perform by doing it. I wrote poetry in college and did reading and noticed that the more loose and performy I got the more the audience and I connected. Then I started performing in front of people and had to drink two bourbons before I went onstage. Slowly, slowly, I learned about breath, projection and and all that crap you learn.

Can you tell me the contents of your medicine cabinet? Please list every item.
Weird. Um. I have this little cup of random pills that people have given me and I have no idea what they do. I keep meaning to take them.

You say in your first book that you “hate the hairless-beauty youth culture.” You wear your hair slightly long with some facial hair. Is this an act of rebellion against the overly groomed gay culture or are you nature-y and outdoorsy?
Maybe? Not totally intentionally, but maybe?

I picked your book up at the library. I am going through a gay fiction phase- can’t get enough of it. Have you ever hooked up in a library? What are you reading right now?
I am reading The Possibility of an Island by Michel Houellebecq...I love him...
I hooked up in the stacks of Columbia University Library stacks. But I am kind of bad at ‘cruising’....

More importantly, what are you watching on TV right now?
I don’t have a TV (well I do but its not connected...) but I CAN WAIT for Project Runway!!! I was a total, complete Battlestar Galactica fan.

When you were little did you dream of being named the “ultimate satirist of the downtown New York social landscape” by The New York Times?
No...i have always dreamed of being a poet. But you know what...at the same time I have always loved satirizing. In 6th grade I performed a satire of Pollyanna in front of the entire class. So I guess its always been in my blood.

Pennies from Heaven

Forget the global economy and just think about me for a second. The recession has hit me real hard. Actually, I venture to say that I was the first to feel the rumblings back in 2006 or 2007- whenever I graduated from college. That's the day I realized I wouldn't have sweet sweet college loan dollars lining my pockets and coming out of my ears. I flew to Los Angeles with an iPod, a new computer, sunglasses, cigarettes, bags of psychotropic medication and assorted snacks. I stayed in the Hollywood hills at the Oakwood Suites. Air conditioned with beige carpeting. I had the option of maid service and I took that option. She came every week and did my dishes and emptied my ashtrays.

After work on Thursday, I had no money to get to home from work. I needed my paycheck and the beautiful hipster accounting girls were not at there desks that day. Too afraid to track them down, to make a scene.

Broke, hot and in despair, I found myself somehow downtown by the two story McDonalds and the Hard Rock Cafe on Erie or Huron or one of those streets. I called my mother and asked her to put yet another twenty dollars in my account. She does, thankfully, and I immediately buy a pack of cigarettes and head straight to McDonalds for a Filet-O-Fish combo. While devouring the soft fishy goodness I realize that while I have obtained the essentials to survive another evening, I AGAIN have no way to get home.

I begin to dig in my backpack for change, confident that I can rattle up enough nickels, dimes and quarters to get on the CTA. Turns out that I have done this one too many times and I am only able to come up with about a dollar eighty five. Not enough to ride the shiny brown line back home.

I think about calling my mother and asking for another twenty dollars but I can't bring myself to do it. I have to get it together. I have to figure out how to do this grown up thing- get my OWN ride home, buy my OWN food and cigarettes. I fear that one day my mom isn't going to answer that phone call. Then who am I gonna call? Am I gonna call Kara in her New York comedy penthouse and ask her to Western Union me over some cigarette and bus money. It has to stop.

I have scads of pennies in my bag but the CTA isn't interested in my pennies. Outside the Brown line entrance, I pick through handfuls of stinky sticky pennies. While I am picking off pieces of candy and disintegrating mood stablilzers that have fallen out their bottles from my precious pennies a disheveled gentleman approaches me.

I can barely understand this man as I continue to count my pennies. Tangled sentences and phrases fall out of his mouth. "Excuse me sir...Elvis...Haha...Anything you can spare...I am trying to..." Then he wiggles his hands in front of me and laughs. He has no thumbs and seems very delighted by this.

I impatiently inform him that I have no money. "I am counting pennies, I'm sorry." He fades away.

I manage to change my pennies into train fare and while I am riding home I remember the words of our Nation's poet Cher:

When the money's gone
No more caviar
Will you eat fast food in a beat up car
Live life modestly, lost in lotto dreams
Will you find your way though it all with me
Through it all with me

If you could see me the way you see yourself...

Hey Kids, so sorry it's been so long. I've been so busy watching and re-watching Madonna's new video that I've neglected you. I've been getting on and off airplanes in bathrobes and playing my guitar with pink ribbons around my neck. I'm exhausted!

3 Important Images

Eminem checking into rehab. Like a tragic version of a kid's first day of school.
I have been a fan of Marshall Mathers for awhile. He's blond and sexy and forbidden, allegedly homophobic- yes. But his lyrics are so raw they have brought me to tears on numerous occasions. I take pills that stop me from crying but Slim's lyrics break open the Lexapro dam and the floodwaters come rushing down.


The album cover for "Yes" by the Pet Shop Boys. Very positive, Obama-esque. I love the colors and the sentiment. The group is known for being a bit dreary. I like when they have an upbeat moment.


By Gerhard Richter. At The Art Institute of Chicago. Woman descending a staircase. This is what my life is about. This is it. This is everything. Uh, I have to lay down.

Grey Gardens with Kara

Today Kara and had fun paying tribute to Grey Gardens. Can't wait to see the movie!!

Networking

It's time for me to create a healthy network of coworkers, friends, contacts, ex-lovers, sponsors, supervisors, high school and college alumni. I'm not talking about any facebookery, tweetering or linked-in-ing. I'm talking actual phone numbers on a cell phone and meetups for brunch. I want my schedule to be full of dinners, theatre goings and creative jam sessions.

Soon, I'll be rushing into a Starbucks meeting Steve, a former co-worker who has moved on happily to running his own web-based pottery exchange. I'll lend an ear to his brainstorms and he'll help me out with "NUDE JAM!"- the nude poetry jam I'm organizing for charity. We'll talk over each other and pretend to listen to each other's ideas and one of us will have to get going and the other of us will say that's fine because we really have to get going too.

I'll be one of those people who is always talking on public transportation about some upcoming event in the future- going over the details, looking in my datebook, holding a pen. I'll laugh REAL loud at things that aren't really funny and the person on the other line will say they have to go and I'll say that's fine because I'm on the bus or the train and I should go too. I'll wait a few seconds and call someone else and leave a message about the last phone call I just made, slightly insulting the person I just previously talked to.

I'll have to change at work from my work clothes to my evening clothes because I'll always have something and somewhere I have to be. I will NOT be exhausted and lethargic and only want to come home and watch Roseanne reruns. I will be spending most of my time Downtown now, the best place, really, for all of us to connect. The key word- connect. I'll eat very little and become one of those very skinny skinny fashionable gay boys who has a lot going on and likes to let everyone know it. I'll tell you about my improv classes and business trips and how I've quit smoking as I step outside for a cigarette with you.

I'll come home late and drunk but I'll wake up feeling refreshed and healthy. The next morning I'll slide easily into my seasonally appropriate menswear- a crisp pressed shirt and slacks and form fitting jacket/coat. I'll go global before 8 am- connected to all my Ipod-Touches and Bluetooths and Palm Pilot and Kindels. I'll walk confidently down the street with a credit card that actually works in my wallet. I'll buy my morning coffee with lots of sugar and lots of cream. I'll deposit a healthy tip in the plexiglass tip jar for the twenty something bisexual barista behind the counter.

I'll work on working out the details. I'll consider touching base or reconnecting with that one that seemed like a possibility. The one with the good job and shaved head and good shoes. I'll talk it over confidentially with my twelve closest friends. We'll analyze him and try to understand his motivations and intentions in phone calls made from my bed. I'll drift off in an Ambien haze and wake up and start all over again.

Tour of my Apartment

It's fucking snowing outside and it's April and this hasn't been the best winter for me so I'd like to forget winter but it's haunting me, every time I turn around it's there. I thought I'd give you a tour of my home.



This is mission control. You'd think I was super busy. You'd think I could create something real special with the cup of markers and the cellphone and the laptop at my disposal. You'd think with all the cigarettes and caffeine I could get something going.


Dishes. These are what I have to do tonight if I can summon the strength of Hercules and the mental stability of Barack Obama.


As you can see I take fashion very seriously as any gay man does and should. Every garment is given the utmost attention and respect. These are high quality fabrics and I am proud to wear them everyday. Each morning, I have a hard time choosing what to wear. They are all so beautiful.


QVC on the tv. This is a really soothing photo for me. I really can't get enough of it right now. I won't go on anymore. This is my POV of life right now.



I really like that bright pink towel. It's caked with toothpaste spit but I really like the color.



One bookshelf. The top half contains my cookbooks. I really like my Martha cookbooks a lot- gifts from Erik and my parents. A year of Martha Stewart and Domino magazines.



This is the shelf by bed. The obligatory can of Pepsi for late night refreshment. Kleenex box with some sort of Tuscan harvest theme. I don't blow my nose so the top tissue probably has some dust on it. Blowing my nose just creates more of a problem I have been told. On the second shelf to the right is my stack of Playbills I have collected over the years. Erik is very blase about playbills.


I've always said your bed should be a luxurious oasis.


DVD collection for the curious.


My garbage for the curious or the bi-curious.

A sampling of some art (or pictures framed) from my home.


Geoffrey Todd Smith's rollercoaster. I love it. Such a metaphor for life, really, wouldn't you say. Erik wants there to be some trees.


A blurry Mapplethorpe.


Painting I found in the garbage of my apartment building.



Keith Haring in a bathtub, also in my bathroom. I like this picture a lot.


A great picture of Bette Midler.


A great picture from SEX by Madonna. It reminds me of all my dear lady friends.


Picture of me and Kara in Villains frame, an Oscar from Heather's Mom and a Lucy present from my sweet boyfriend. I will not take them out of the boxes anymore. I promise. I won't.


Except for this one. She needs to get out and dance!


Well that's it. Thanks for coming over and thanks for sticking through until the end. Excuse me while I sit back and relax and listen to some music on my cheap $20 Mp3 player I bought at Walgreens. See you next time.

Taking some time to enjoy The View

"I can remember lying frozen in bed, crying because I was too frightened to take a shower, and at the same time knowing that showers are not scary."
-Andrew Solomon, The Noonday Demon

The quote above pretty much sums up where I have been the last couple months. Living in a dark place. But now I'm back from outer space. I knew I was back when I started watching QVC. For the last couple months I haven't been able to watch tv. Literally, could not watch television. Too much stimulation. Too scary. But I knew I was back when I could watch QVC- Bob Mackie's wonderful embroidered shirts! frozen steaks delivered right to your door! Kitchenaid appliances! I can watch it all day. So soothing to me. Consumer therapy as I try to enter the real world again.

After September 11th, during another breakdown it was the only thing I would watch. I was freaked out, really freaked out about terrorism and dirty bombs and anthrax. Totally overreacting. QVC was the only network that would not mention 9/11. There would be the occasional American flag pin for sale, with a soft mention of the "tough times" our country was going through. But I knew that they wouldn't cut away to a shot of the towers falling. Safe.

I still wasn't ready for The View. Erik mentioned that maybe I had moved beyond the view. Perhaps I was on to better, deeper and more meaningful televisions. FAT CHANCE! It took awhile. I am happy to say I am back watching the ladies around the table discussing "Hot Topics." By the way, something is going on with Whoppi. She has been calling in sick an awful lot. I am very suspicious. Is she terribly ill or is she playing hardball renegotiating her contract. That's really why Rosie left. I'll keep an eye on it for you.

I don't what details to share about my meltdown. I am so happy to have such a patient and caring support system. I was in a LOT of therapy for a long time. I am properly medicated now. This wasn't something that could be solved by exercising or eating a balanced diet. It was not good. It was really bad. I was in a state of anedonia. Nothing made me feel better, nothing made me happy, nothing helped, nothing, nothing, nothing.

One day I was lying in bed under my covers forcing myself to read and I felt ok. Just ok. I don't know if my medication finally kicked or what but I felt ok. I didn't want to jinx it. Didn't want to get out of the bed or turn on the light or stop reading. I felt safe again, the world wasn't so distant. I repeated this again the next day. Staying in bed, underneath the blanket my mother made me. Reading. I have kept taking baby steps since then. Still unsteady, doubting my ok feelings, but pushing through.

Madonna Video Tributes

I always have very specific and important things I'm looking for when I'm searching for Madonna on YouTube. I have never really stopped to look at the really wonderful Madonna parodies that people have made. So here are some new finds and some old favorites...

This one really made me smile. I really like this one. This is me in about 2 years. I believe Kara and I used to do a similar routine at Crystal Lake.




This version of "Don't Tell Me" is adorable.


This is my all time favorite. Julie Brown with "Party In My Pants" and "Vague." "Kelly Lebrock thinks she's great, she's just cold boogers on a paper plate."



A drunk version of Sooner Or Later.



A "Truth or Dare" monologue that is great! I still want to do a theater parody of the movie that changed my life. But this is a pretty clever scene.



Two very fun and cute boys doing a parody of Future Lovers.



Madonna Dawn and Madonna Jennifer. Their parodies are almost too perfect.



4 Minutes "Le Remake"- Um, I like this video better than the original.

Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous

I made a mix of songs that I like. Just a mix of pop, soul and electronic songs for you while you cry and dance alone in your bedroom.

It's getting pretty bad out there...

I spent this morning watching a lovely Lifetime movie "Lost Holiday: The Jim and Suzanne Shemwell Story." Jami Gertz (Less Than Zero) and Dylan Walsh (Nip Tuck) play an estranged couple who have time to put their marriage back together after becoming stranded on a mountain while snowmobiling. I am a big fan of this genre of made for tv movies. Something about people being stranded in snow.

Stephen King's "Storm of The Century" mini-series is a big favorite. I have never watched the whole thing (even though I own it) because I just like when the characters are preparing for the storm, "It's getting pretty bad out there." Storm of The Century quickly dissolves into a horror movie and I get bored. I loved the book "Icebound" about the doctor in Antarctica who had to perform her own mastectomy.

This morning, I was going to give Erik a ride to work but we couldn't get Erik's car out of the ice because it was so bad out there. Real cold. -4 degrees. Best to stay inside-- you can watch the whole movie right here.

Plinko

I spent the first part of the day in an anxiety trap. "Ohhhhh... what am I going to do with my life... I am so lost... where has it all gone?" Coffee. Coffee. Cigarettes. Thoughts of committing something which is fatal for me-- the nap.

I am just going to climb into that bed and not come out. I stopped myself.

An anti anxiety pill and a bowl of frosted flakes later, I found myself downloading The Price Is Right PC game from Yahoo. I had to spend 5 dollars on a trial membership to Blockbuster Video to do it. I quickly cancelled my membership without even ordering a DVD. I did peruse their collection, not interested. If I hadn't done it I would have got the DVD's and let the trial period end and then I wouldn't have cancelled.

So I got the video game, and I love it! All of our favorite pricing games are there including Plinko, Cliffhanger, 3 Strikes.

So if you come calling I'll be playing The Price Is Right. Pour yourself a comfy chair and have a seat in a warm cup of hot cocoa and play along. It's really a lot of fun. I highly recommend it.

I think there should be home games of all TV shows. How fun would a home game of The View be? Try your luck at "Hot Topics!" Can you out bitch Elizabeth? Try to make as many Dick Cheney jokes as Joy.

Nate Berkus on HSN

"If you don't wake up on good sheets right now. You're kind of sending yourself a message," Nate Berkus says about his Percale 220 thread count sheet set. He's on HSN selling cheap stuff. He has a point. If you wake up on sheets you haven't washed in months (like I have been doing) you're sending yourself a message. 220 thread count though? A suspicious number. I wouldn't exactly call these good sheets. Don't try to pull the cotton/polyester blend over our eyes.

I have a love/hate relationship with Nate. He is the gay man I think I should be. Kind, attractive, well dressed, best friends with Oprah. I hate myself instantly when he is on television. The perfect hair, the eyes, the ability to speak to people. Such self confidence. He does look a little scrubby this morning though. Was he out late at the bars in St. Petersburg near the HSN studios? I can't imagine he's still up to that. Maybe he was out shooting another piece for Oprah. "Knock, Knock, It's Nate!" Knocking on another heterosexual couple's door and making over their house. Screams from the audience, the wife cries, Oprah yelling. He is the metrosexual asexual homosexual magician that is acceptable in Oprahland.

One suggestion Nate has is to buy these sheet sets and then invite your friends over for the holidays to sleep on and then say, "I actually want you to take these with you..and see what they say." Your guests come over for Christmas and bring you a normal gift. You tell them, "Those sheets your sleeping on, Merry Christmas." Thanks a lot.

A woman just called in and stopped the show and made everyone very nervous. "YOU DON'T MAKE TWIN SIZE. There are a lot of widows and widowers out here like me." I love these moments on HSN. Nate and the host don't miss a beat, thanking the crazy lady for the suggestion and promise they will speak to the buyers and bring that up.

A reviewer on the website says, "Don't want to give a bad review because I want Nate to do well on HSN and it's his first shot. I got these sheets in the pale pink but was disappointed that they were actually peach so I could not use them. Had to send them back. Hopefully, colors will be true to picture in the future."

I too want Nate to do well on HSN. I need him to be on HSN. Just like the crazy lady who called in.

Ace Mart

I stumbled upon Ace Mart Restaurant Supply today. The range of products available for purchase is extraordinary. In these difficult times, it eases my anxiety somehow to think about the roles these classic pieces played in our lives.

Caramel Princess Mug $19.38/1 dozen




I believe this mug was designed for mildly depressing continental breakfasts at La Quinta Inns. It's the mug you drink out of while studying yourself in a mirror and questioning why you packed what you are now wearing. There is a sense of excitement about the day. The air smells of chlorine from the pool that is perpetually closed. You forgot your keypass card in the room. You have to wait to go back up to get it because someone is checking when and where to meet the shuttle bus. You wait patiently and sleepy sipping on the warm brownish water that they call coffee.

Burgundy Snap Drape 73.98/each




You know this snap drape. It takes a snap drape to know a snap drape and you're the snappiest drape I know. It's been at all the job fairs and depressing banquet style receptions you've ever been forced to attend. You're pretending to celebrate a wedding or some vague anniversary, spooning up your baked mostacolli, not even thinking about the seventy bucks someone paid for this pleated number designed to hide the legs of a collapsable table.

Guest Check 47.98/box of fifty


You have anxiety problems and you can't handle the period of waiting between finishing eating and your server bringing the check. You want to leave. You need air. You need a cigarette now. You're done talking. But the check isn't coming. You think about asking the waiter/waitress for the check but you've done that before and your friends implied that it was rude. The check is never going to come. Then you have to decipher the check and figure out the tip and then play the "I got it," "No, you got it last time, It's my turn" game for the required period of time. It's all too much. It's just too much. You just want to leave but you can't. Do you go up to cash register or pay at the table? And now someone has to go to the bathroom. You're just going to wait outside.

Enter Talking

When I moved to the Chicago suburbs from San Jose, CA I spent a lot of time at the library. This was the summer before my sixth grade. I didn't know anyone and had little to do. I wanted to check out the audiobook "Enter Talking" by Joan Rivers (The title of which is based on advice someone gave her about doing standup- that she should always enter the stage talking, so there was no lull, so the energy was up). The librarian at the Crystal Lake Public Library had to call my mom and ask for her permission for me to check out a Joan Rivers book.

I recently found myself at the library again checking out a Joan Rivers book. Regressing. This time there was no hassle from the librarian, besides maybe a raised eyebrow. It was her motivational book, "Bouncing Back (I've Survived Everything...And I Mean Everything..And You Can Too!)" I didn't plan to read it all, I just thought, "what the hell, it can't hurt." I can't put the book down. The book is a strung together collection of motivational bumper sticker "get on with it" sayings infused with Rivers' life experience: her husband commiting suicide, being fired from her Late Night Talk Show, banned from the Tonight Show, the collapse and rebirth of her Jewelry company.

Why do I feel the need to educate you about Joan Rivers! Ugh, I'm so disgusted. Here's Miss Piggy and Joan Rivers. Happy Sunday. Whatever.

Maya Angelou's Caramel Cake

Erik and I traveled to my parents house to celebrate my mom's belated birthday. I made Maya Angelou's Caramel Cake.





The most exciting part of the cake for me is that I got to use parchment paper. Mmmm parchment paper. Martha is always going on about parchment paper, parchment paper. Like everyone has that laying around. "Just line the bottom of your cake pan with two rounds of parchment paper..." I finally got my hands on some.



Maya asks that you make your own caramel sauce by boiling the water and sugar down. You only use a very small amount and add that to your butter/sugar.



You use the rest to drizzle over the cake later (which I did not do because I knew my mom wouldn't be interested in that). I put it in a mason jar. In fact when we ate it she said, "I will have only a VERY small amount of that, thank you."



Creaming the butter, sugar and syrup. Fascinating!



Foaming the eggs. I was confused because I have done this with egg whites, but not with whole eggs. It's what Maya said to do, but I'm still not sure if that is correct.



The two cakes pre-cooked.



The cooked cake with PARCHMENT PAPER!!! It was very thrilling to peel the paper off.



Frosting the cake. The frosting was sort of difficult (that's why there was no pictures). I started with way less powdered sugar than I needed. It said to use a 16 oz box powdered sugar and I had a big bag from a previous frosting. I measured out 16 oz with a wet measuring cup. So my measurements were off. I kept adding and adding powdered sugar until it worked. I made it work.



The final cake. It was a little flat. My mom said "I can tell you exactly what you did wrong. You didn't push the cakes to the back of the oven." She was right. But I think it turned out ok.



The cake hacked into in my parent's dining nook. My mom said the cake was very good. She is paging through a British Recipes book. Erik and my mother were talking about English/Scottish recipes while I zoned out and took pictures of a cake like an idiot.

Maya Angelou was one of two living poets to read their own poems on inaugural day. She read "Inaugural Poem" for Bill Clinton's inauguration.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

Bad Day

Where's The Party?

Went to the Art Institute free night last night. I have been there so many times so I wasn't taken away or surprised by much. It's all real good work. Everyone did a real good job on everything. A+ Seurat, A+ Latrec, kudos to everyone. But I'd seen it all before and how lucky I am to have seen it all before.

Reflecting on the evening, over a bowl of curried vegetables and fried rice and chicken I tried to recall what my favorite piece was and I decided, along with the help of Erik, that it was Archibald Motley's "Nightlife." Erik said it was the only thing that made him physically smile. I agree. I smiled inside when I saw it. I want to be in that world.



It's just such an explosion out of repression and depression to sheer euphoria (except for the man who is wasted in the upper right). He's coming down, knows that he has to go back out onto that street, back home, back to the real world.



I also love the Eames Chair. My grandfather had one. Or maybe I made that up. I think he did. Anyway, it reminds me of my grandfather. I want it. I also want to go back to 1987 and I want to be Madonna and I want to where crazy glasses and...

Don't want to grow old too fast
Don't want to let the system get me down
I've got to find a way to make
the good times last
And if you'll show me how, I'm ready now!