Dave White Knows

Username:	Password:
Forgot your password?	Remember Me

the third to the last american idol recap is now available for adoring on advocate.com
i started writing it in texas

i finished it here this morning after not dying from an airplane

http://www.advocate.com/exclusive_detail_ektid54137.asp

also now you can comment and let the advocate know that 'YOUR NOT FUNNY!!1! DIE YOU MORUN!!!!"

or maybe how I'M A GOD OF IDOL-RECAPPING

10:00am pacific time

the plane didn't crash. i am now home from texas. i'll probably do what i normally don't do and write about the rest of it this weekend.

i will not sleep now. got work to do. idol stuff. movies to review. etc/blah

dear

bearwitched, thank you for the 3:30 am wake-up call.

hey west coast people...
anybody going to be awake at 1:30am this morning pacific time?

i ask for a favor.

i'm in texas and there've been some strange, brief power outages in my family's neighborhood over the past couple of days. i don't trust the alarm clock to wake me up at 3:30am so that i can make my 6:30am flight back to los angeles

who wants to wake-up call me at that time?

email me at dlelandwhite at aol dot com if you're a nightowl who can remember to dial my cell....

the fifth and sixth days will have to wait...
too much to do and not enough time to do it.

last day in texas, i come home tomorrow

but just had to let y'all know that you can now COMMENT on the advocate site about those "idol" and "runway" recaps and well, anything i write for them. my boss emailed me and she was so excited to tell me this.

i anticipate the same "YOUR NOT FUNNY!!1! DIE YOU MORUN!!!!" comments i get from the movies.com columns

The Fourth of Six Days in Texas, Plus The Sisterhood of The Crapping Pants
Here's what's funny about the Rockport shoe store. All the models in the little videos playing on their flat-screens are 23 years old. They should get Elaine Stritch to do them instead.

So now she has new Rockports. They're fancy. She also has new socks that don't cut off the circulation below the knee. I spent the latter part of the day taking a big permanent marker and ID-ing each new sock with her name and room number.

She gets a little weaker with each visit, which is disconcerting and I'm kind of in denial about it. I'm going to bring it up at her care-planning meeting on Thursday, so I guess I'm not in that much denial. But still, denial enough that I don't want to think about what's down the road. Her good hand shakes to the point that she now uses straws to drink from cups she does not touch. Forks are a problem because they involve stabbing the food or resting it on the tongs. Neither of these options seem to be working any more. So We ate at TGIFridays--she loves that place--where I had the genius idea of taking her flat-iron steak, cutting it into tiny chewable pieces, mixing it into the mashed potatoes, then taking it off the plate and dumping it all into a bowl so that she could use a spoon to eat it. This idea was met with great pleasure on her part. Our waitress was the loud kind, the kind who sneaks up on you from behind and then goes, "HOW IS EVERYTHING???!!!" and then you jump out of your skin for a second before giving the thumbs up because your mouth is full of flat-iron steak. I used a fork with mine because I'm a big show-off.

Then she pooped and we didn't quite make it to the bathroom in time. So it's a good thing we always carry that extra pair of pants around wherever we go. It's not an everyday thing. But it's a sometimes thing. So it's good to be prepared. And because this song is never far from my thoughts, I had "We pooped at the mall today..." in my mind for the rest of the afternoon.

Next stop, her first massage since the stroke. They have these franchise places now called Massage Envy and they're not bad. Also not prohibitively expensive. She fell asleep after the first 10 minutes of the woman working on her arms and legs. But she was so relaxed and drowsy when it was over that it was tough getting her back into the wheelchair. I think I harmed myself dead-lifting her off the table. That moment was all the motivation I've ever needed to join a gym.

First thing that happens when we get back to the nursing home is her Alzheimer's-having roommate also doing the numero-dos in her wheelchair. We're watching "Charmed" before her dinner time and I smell the smell. I look at my mother and say, "Uh... are you okay?"

She looks back at me and points her head in the direction of the silent roommate. The poor woman barely knows her own name anymore, much less how to use the toilet by herself. My mother rolls to the nurses button and pushes it. So it was a day of aromas all around.

In family news, I got my 12 year-old niece to finally remove the Aqua "Barbie Girl" ring-tone she gave my new cell-phone the last time I was here. So that'll be one less embarrassing thing in my daily existence. But I still won't know how to use my own cell phone.

Oh, and speaking of cell phones, can one of you Apple disciples out there explain to me why my Motorola phone refuses to speak to

moroccomole's iPhone? Because I'm going to lose my shit if I call him again and it bypasses both his ring-tone and his vibrate feature and goes straight to voicemail as it seems to do each and every time I need to talk to him. I might even do it in my pants.

The Third of Six Days in Texas, Plus Time For More Sleeping
1. Woke up late. Like at 8am. If you know me then you know that by 7:30 any awake person in the room with me should be shaking me to see if I've lapsed into a coma because that shit just never happens. Ever. Slept a solid 10 hours the night before. Not my intention at all, considering I had work to accomplish before picking up my mom.

2. Picked her up at 11am. It was decided via multiple plot explanations and pointing at ads in the Sunday paper that we would go see "Nim's Island" after lunch. She picks the movie and has the most lesbian-ish crush on Jodie Foster of any heterosexual woman I know. I've seen everything already so it doesn't matter. If it's a poop-film then I just have a little nap while she enjoys herself. "Nim's Island," fortunately, is not a poop-film. It's a sweet kid's movie that doesn't suck one bit.

3. Oops, "Nim's" starts at 12:40 and now it's pouring down rain, which means:

A) we have to not eat at a sit-down restaurant because that would involve getting into and out of the car and consequently into and out of a wheelchair twice and getting soaked
B) we have to hurry and eat quickly, which means going to Sonic
C) we have to NOT HAVE LOOKED AT THE SUNDAY PAPER SHOWTIMES INSTEAD OF THE MONDAY ONES because when we arrive at the AMC Firewheel 18 (very nice theater, far North Dallasers, I must say), we discover that "Nim's" doesn't screen until 3:05, unlike on Sunday when it screened at 12:40. It does, however, screen at 10:10pm tonight for all you parents who want to keep your kids up way past midnight. Explain that one, AMC.

4. Dang.

5. Second choice is "21." It starts in 40 minutes, which gives us time to look at coming-soon posters, go to the sumptuous family-style bathroom so she can pee and get the Sonic cheeseburger residue off her hands (thank you, good teens of Sonic, for cutting her burger in half for her so she could kinda/sorta manage it and for that tree's-worth of extra napkins, which we used, every single one). It also gives me time to change her now-wet socks after being shuttled out of the car in the rain and into the theater. And this movie choice, again, is fine by me because Kevin Spacey is best when he's mean-mean-mean and that Jim Sturgess fellow is not difficult to look at, a fact I'm sure wasn't lost on Mr. Spacey, producer. She really enjoys it, too, so that's the only important thing. Also? I had so many AMC card points that we got a free huge Coke to split.

6. Movie over, she wants a mocha frappucino from Starbucks. She'll be on the toilet in 30 minutes after that one but it will be the nursing home's problem and not mine. We get one, we drive back, the rain stops but her sock still gets re-wet in the transfer back into the wheelchair from the car. Back in her room, the wet hoodie comes off, the bra comes off, more dry socks are put on the feet and she's off to dinner. I go back to my brother and sister-in-law's house, eat spaghetti and salad, write my Movies.com column, shower, put on pajamas, sit here on the bed and do this. Now it's 9:30 and I'm wiped out. Goodnight.

The Second of Six Days in Texas, Plus Near-Death By Chocolate
In spite of the fact that the very mention of her name makes me think of being killed in a plane crash, I knew it was going to be a good day when I got into the rental car this morning and the first song to come out of the radio (I forgot to bring CDs with me on this trip) was Aaliyah's "Are You That Somebody."

Because, seriously, one of the best songs of the 1990s. Argue with me about it. You'll lose.

And if for some reason your ears were in an Aaliyah-less cave in 1998 then find some way to hear it. Depending on your tolerance for "Dr. Dolittle" tie-in music videos, I'd say just go watch it on YouTube, because for about a third of the video Aaliyah IS holding a hawk or a falcon or some other kind of crazy peck-your-eyes-out kind of bird. And that's awesome.

So today was Mother's Day for my mom since I go back to California on Friday. I gave her the earrings that

moroccomole and I got for her yesterday and today was her scheduled pedicure/manicure at the spa in the basement level of the NorthPark Neiman Marcus.

I was a little worried at first because when we arrived no one had told the woman doing it that her client would be in a wheelchair, nor that the client would have to remain in the wheelchair while it was all taking place. I specifically told the phone-lady all of this when I booked the appointment last week but someone didn't do their communicationing job very well.

The good news is that the lady who did both the manicure and the pedicure was about as perfect as she could be. I'm blanking on her name right now--I want to say Cynthia something--but I made sure to get her card. She even wrote her schedule on the back of it for us so that we could request her next time. It turns out that her own mother is in a nursing home and so she was incredibly attentive to my mother's special needs.

Then we had lunch in one of the little restaurants they have inside the store. I forget which one it was. Mermaid Bar or something. Nice salads, which is a good thing because I was feeling pretty grody inside after the Long John Silvers/A&W orgy of deliciously disgusting "food" items from the day before.

We rolled around lots of stores and she cooed over purses she has zero need for. I mean, okay, yes, she COULD get a new purse if she wanted one. She does use one of her old Kate Spade bags for carrying her extra pair of pants when we go out. And she especially loved this tacky, ugly, white one at Dooney & Bourke or whatever that place is called.

The low point of the day came when I had to take her to the bathroom right before the appointment. We rolled into the men's room in what used to be the center of the mall, near Dillards. And three guys are standing at the sink doing who knows what, "washing their hands" maybe. It all seemed a little Larry Craig-ish to me. But not the point. They all just stood there, staring at the guy rolling a woman into the men's room with that dumb "hey that's not supposed to be happening in here" face. And no one moved. They just gawked. But I'm pretty great at staring people down so I gave them the face of "This is MY MOTHER who is IN A WHEELCHAIR IN CASE YOU CAN'T SEE THAT YOU DICKHEADS SO GET OUT OF MY WAY."

They stepped aside and let us through, all the way to the end of the restroom where the one occupied stall was the handicapped one. Occupied by some dude who was not in a wheelchair. So we waited outside the stall. And when he came out he gave us the same "WHY THERE IS A LADY WHERE I HAVE JUST MADE A DOODY?" face. But at least he said, "Sorry" when he saw that he'd held us up.

Me: "Uh huh."

And that handicapped stall is a joke, lemme just say. Room for one toilet and one wheelchair and maybe one person. But not that person's helper. At all. I banged her head against the wall trying to get her on the damn toilet. The door kept flying open because the lock was so old and worn down from years of use. The toilet paper dispenser is one of those slice-off-your-hand things that you have to reach up and into and your sliced hand pulls out one sheet of toilet paper, now featuring your hand-blood.

So hey, NorthPark Mall. You made the place five times the size it used to be but you DID NOT REMODEL THE RESTROOMS to reflect the actual physical needs of people in wheelchairs. GET BACK TO WORK.

On the drive back, she had a Hershey bar. I opened it for her, gave her a chunk and she ate it. I put the remainder in the little cup holder between the two front seats. I drove out of the mall parking lot and was about to merge onto the freeway when she goes, "Muh muh muh" and reaches out and grabs my left arm. Mind you, she was seated to my right, so this involved her leaning forward, reaching across my body and grabbing my arm.

Me: What? What's wrong?
Her: Muh muh muh. Muh muh muh muh.
Me: What do you need? My arm is fine.
Her: Muh muh muh muh.
Me: I have zero idea what you're telling me right now and as you can see, I am about to drive very fast on the freeway here so let go of me.
Her: Muh MUH MUH MUH. [And she's still grabbing my arm.]

Then it occurred to me.

I reached into the cup holder, picked up the chocolate bar and said, "This? Seriously? Do not tell me you grabbed my arm while I was trying to merge onto the freeway because you wanted more chocolate, you greedy lunatic woman."

She just laughed, grabbed the chocolate and put almost the entire rest of the bar into her mouth. She thought I'd put it into the pocket of the driver's side door instead of between us. She gave me the last piece. "I accept," I say. "And I also forgive you for ALMOST CAUSING US TO HAVE AN ACCIDENT."

Her: "Muh muh."

The First of Six Days In Texas, Plus The Fat Lady Will Sing In My House, Not Yours
Re-reading last night's sleep-deprived post of zero punctuation skills, sporadic use of capital letters and a Pong-like relationship with continuity makes me realize what I would write like if I were tanked up on "hill people milk" all the time.

And because I'm wrung and shredded like my four year-old nephew's blanky (it's about 7:30pm pacific time, 9:30pm in Texas), I'll keep this all brief like last night in conveniently numerical bullet points.

1. I don't like the Burbank airport and here's why. The great stuff it has going for it--tiny size, no long lines to wait in for anything, no traffic gridlock going in or out--is dwarfed by the way you have to actually walk up a slanty-gangplank to board the plane. At LAX you're in one ugly sterile environment and then you're in a windowless tunnel and then suddenly you're inside a plane you never had to look at from the outside. It's like, "Oh hi, here I am in a big room and now I'll walk down the hall into the little room and then I'll sit down in the little chair and go to sleep."

At Burbank it's like being greeted by Jaws. He goes, "Okay, hey I'm Jaws and here's my huge mouth. See all of me? I'm huge. Also deadly. Walk right into me and I will destroy you."

Not into it, Xanax or no Xanax.

2. You forget about how folks are in Texas sometimes when you stop living there. They stare right at you and start talking if they find you fascinating. And they're real polite. But they do it all the same. I got off the plane, got my bags, got my rental car and then got on LBJ freeway. I stopped at the combo Long John Silvers/ A&W restaurant and--SERIOUSLY WHO'S INCREDIBLY DELICIOUS IDEA WAS THIS?--got my fish and hush puppies from the LJS side and then my fried cheesy nuggets and root beer float from AW side and, sure enough, a man wearing a shirt with some Bible verse on it stared right at me. Actually he stared right at my ADORABLE Darkthrone t-shirt.

Him [all smiles and extra nice]: "Is that Ozzy Osbourne?"

Me [also all smiles and extra nice because shit y'all I'm home in Texas]: "No it's Darkthrone."

Him: "Dark Throne? Is that about the devil?"

Me: "No, it's more like about Norway. You know, like 'Peer Gynt?'" Then I hummed him a little bit of "In the Hall of The Mountain King."

Him [not getting it at all]: Oh yeah?

Me: [enthusiastic] Yep! Have a nice day!

3. Went to the nursing home and gave my mom her Mother's Day gift, Part One (and no, non-payers of attention, Mother's Day is not this weekend, it's next weekend. But I'm here THIS weekend so the calendar is being bent to my will). Hooked those sweet earrings right up to her head. She cried and is now all excited about her spa day.

4. Went to my brother and sister-in-law's house where we had dinner, talked about Jason Castro (he's in the band at their church), watched half of "Jumanji" and shielded my four year-old nephew's eyes from the scary CGI lion (that looks pretty fakey by 2008 standards but must have seemed a techy marvel in 1995).

5. PWNED EVERY OTHER INFERIOR EBAY BIDDER AND WILL SOON INSTALL THE MARGARET KILGALLEN TOKION FIGURE IN MY HOME. EAT IT, PEOPLE WITH LESS DESIRE FOR ART THAN ME!

6. Dang I am sleepy.

some things...
1. it's 12:33am and i am not only still awake i am intentionally still awake, forcing myself to not sleep so that i can be too exhausted and too xanaxed to be afraid of flying to dallas, which happens at 7:00am pacific time.

2. i've spent most of my time tonight packing clothes, checking and double-checking my supply of xanax, ambien, vitamins, fiber and claritin. also having second thoughts about the tiny little quarter-sized pentagram featured somewhat obscurely on the new darkthrone t-shirt. will my born-again christian family notice or care?

3. planning my mom's itinerary. this sunday is when we plan to celebrate mother's day.

moroccomole and i went to tiffany the other night and found a great necklace she'd love. however, the chain is one that clasps and would not be functional for her and her one good hand. but it was from tiffany and she knows that blue box. craziest of all, it was not totally expensive. and yet, we couldn't buy it because of that damn clasp. instead i found her a pair of earrings (the kind that simply hoop through the ear so she can manage them herself) over at bloomingdales

4. the plan for the week is a sunday lunch and then off to the spa at neiman marcus for yet another pedicure, just like the one she had last time at the same place. she liked it so much i booked her another one. we'll see a couple of movies during the week, probably go to the dallas museum of art since i haven't been there in years, get her hair fixed up somewhere, roll around the botanic gardens and shop for stuff she might need for her room. it's kind of my ongoing goal to make sure her room at the nursing home isn't sterile and lifeless. we found these cool pillows once at target that she loved and were all soft and velvety. they lasted a couple of months and then she puked all over them. end of pillows. but whatever. maybe she'll want some more.

5. my oldest brother is also flying in from colorado and i'm going to make him do all the daily care things for her while he's there. bathroom, getting into and out of the car, helping her figure out picture-less menus in restaurants, perfecting the art of the series of yes/no questions to find out exactly what it is she needs, putting lotions on parts of her body we were never meant, as sons, to see up close. all of it. i'm going to stand by and watch this because the whole reason he's going when i'm going is because he has now idea how to help her on his own. he'll probably be all cranky that i just outed him here on that but fuggit. It's real late and i just took two xanax and i'm all loopy.

6. MM and Xtreem Aaron are raising money to participate in this years Avon Walk for Breast Cancer. To that end they are hosting a charity bingo night at Hamburger Mary's in West Hollywood on, I believe, May 21st. if you're even sort of local then you need to skip the "American Idol" finale on TV that night and get your ass to Hamburger Mary's and play bingo to help raise money for breasts. Everyone loves breasts and they need your help. They're gathering some pretty awesome prizes for this thing too. Not just rinky-dink shit. Stuff you'll probably like. I know this because it's cluttering the entryway corner of our living room right now. Bags of desirable objects. That's also the week of MM's birthday and he doesn't even want presents. He just wants people to come to bingo and play and donate to this cause. It's important to him for several reasons: his own mother died of breast cancer when he was 19, his sister had it and is in remission, and my mom had it and is also in remission. Also? Kylie.

7. My own birthday will be one of greed, for I am my own charity. I want kaiju.

8. Speaking of greed, some sad people are bidding against me on a Margaret Kilgallen figure on ebay right now. Tokion produced it back in 2000 or 2001. I forget which. But the shit is getting crazy on there. They're all going to cry when I kick their asses for it and win it and own it because I deserve it the most. ME.

9. while i'm gone to dallas one of you locals has to come over and buy this dang loveseat belonging to my friend charlotte and TAKE IT AWAY. she wants a hundred bucks for it. she'll take 75. she'll take 50. just come buy it because it's huge and i want it out of my house. dang.

10. i made a pitcher of sweet tea tonight just so XA can have it to drink while i'm gone. i'm an excellent roommate.

11. "Mister Lonely" is an intensely beautiful movie and the part with the singing eggs and the Iris Dement song will make you cry. unless you're MM, who hated every frame of the film. he and i disagree about stuff like this a lot, which to me just means that we have complementary personalities about culture and what's good and what's not.

just yesterday i was playing this borbetomagus record in the house and he goes, "you know, i see you walking around the apartment, organizing things and putting away books and stuff and i hear you listening to this record, which to me sounds like a trombone being raped by a jackhammer, and I wonder to myself what it means to you and how i'll never understand it or like it. and then i think about my siblings and how they know you and love you but i wonder how i would explain to them that you actually enjoy listening to this. they wouldn't even believe me if i told them that it exists and people buy it and put it on the record player just as music to clean the house to."

"would they think differently of me if they heard me play it for them sometime when they visit?" i asked. "would they suddenly look at me askance?"

"no, because after 13 years of knowing you they already have this idea of you as being, you know, 'interesting.'"

12. it's 1am now. time for a three hour nap. then i get up, get dressed and get to the airport by 5am

the latest american idol piece is up at advocate.com
In it you will find bitter assessments, singing puppies and arguments about bananas...

http://www.advocate.com/exclusive_detail_ektid53779.asp

The Next Carly Smithson Works At Century City Mall, Plus Not Coming Soon To a Movie Trailer Near You

moroccomole and I were at Century City mall the other night for the press screening of "Made of Honor."

It will murder you, by the way. So unless you're feeling like being stabbed in the brain repeatedly by a wedding comedy then you might think twice about going. Anyway, not the point of this story...

So we're in a store buying a thing. It's not important what store or what thing. I don't want it to seem like I'm mocking this salesperson because she was really nice and chatty and we ended up having an interesting conversation. But as I'm about to pay for the thing I was buying, she goes, "Are you on the radio?"

There are two answers for that. 1. Yes, technically I am on the radio because Movies.com has this deal with the "Valentine in the Morning" show, a syndicated radio show that goes out to about 30 cities across the country. I go on every Friday and I talk to them about what's out at the movies. Mostly I go on and tell them how awesome something like "Pathology" is while they get grossed out and tell me I'm weird and then I tell them how something highly-anticipated like "Made of Honor" sucks a big donkey dong and then they all crack on me and tell me I hate everything. It's like that. I have a good time doing it.

2. No, I am not "on the radio" in the way that the salesperson asked about because what she's really saying is, "Gosh, you have the deepest voice I've heard in person all week."

I have a weird voice.

If you've never heard it then you don't know what I'm talking about. But I truthfully do have a weird voice. It's somewhat deep but not crazy-deep like James Earl Jones or anything. And it's at times kind of... growly? gruff?bark-like? Not like Harvey Fierstein. Different from him, too. It's just this strange voice. And I got it from my Dad, who sounded just like me, only deeper and Barry White-ish. I'm not ashamed of it. I have a higher register and a lower register, like anyone else. I'm not all proud of it. I just read here yesterday someone saying that they hate the expression, "it is what it is." But for me my voice just is what it is.

My good friends here are over it. In fact, they're so over it that it's now a semi-regular contest to see who can do the best mocking impersonation of me. Vincent Lopez

umkinda started it.

moroccomole does it on an almost daily basis. Gary Cotti

garycotti and Dave Cobb

e_ticket like to do it too.

But strangers are not over it. They like to have whole conversations with me about it. Which is what this salesperson wanted to do. She wanted me to know that I should be on the radio or announcing things, doing voice work. She's the 7000th stranger to tell me this but she has no idea that there were 6,999 people behind her giving me the same advice. Then I tell her that, thanks, I'm a writer and I'm doing okay with that and I like doing it and that MM forced me to take a voice-over class once about five years ago and the guy who taught the class was like the voice for all the Buzz Lightyear toys and that in this class I failed at the following:

1. Ad-libbing as part of a crowd (doing the "watermelon cantelope" thing that I hear people talk about).
2. Being a character when called upon to do so. Also, emoting as the script called for it on any level other than what I was personally feeling at the time.
3. Being "high-energy."
4. Sounding too much like a hick from Texas.
5. Sounding not enough like a hick from Texas.

Also? There were about 20 people in the class. About ten of them were men. And all of them sounded exactly like me, minus that delicate touch of "how y'all doin'"-ness and "ahm fixin' to kick yer ass"-ness. They all had the same deep-ish voice that convinced all their friends that they should really go for it and become the next "IN A WORLD" guy in movie trailers.

A casting lady came to our final class and we each took turns reading for her. According to this casting lady all of us could get work if we really tried and worked hard at it and took more classes or found a voice coach to help us and then went on a million auditions with people who all sounded exactly like us. She individually critiqued us, as well. And as for me, according to her I'd be best suited for auditions for selling things like trucks, sausage and life insurance.

So I tell this to the salesperson and it has the unintended effect of bumming her out. Because she's a singer. And she faces the same competition. And now she's disheartened, thinking it's never going to happen for her because in her field, I guess, not enough people voluntarily opt out before they even begin. So without meaning to I ruined her night. I'm awesome at that.

The Indiana Jones, He Gotta GO! Plus The Loveseat From "Land of The Giants." It, Too, Gotta GO!
In the ongoing effort to make 2008 the year of purging in this house (and not the kind of purging that was just detailed in fellow LJ-er

elysesewell's tale of model-apartment-turned-vomitorium, as entertaining as that was), I've been selling of tons of music to Amoeba, tons of books to Counterpoint, transferring VHS tapes to DVD and generally discarding things that I don't know how to get rid of by bringing them down the street to the Out of the Closet thrift store.

We used to have semi-regular garage sales. We'd net some decent cash from those because our home is one into which a never-ending stream of free, promotional media and items just flows. What am I supposed to do with four promotional one-sheet posters for "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull?" What am I supposed to do with a talking Iron Man action figure?

Ebay is a hassle. Garage sales involve standing outside in the hot sun and--worst of all--haggling with people. I hate haggling.

Part of me wants to have an inside-our-apartment tag sale of books, music, promo swag, toys, old lunchboxes, dishes, clothes, a vintage AM-radio in the shape of a hamburger that now 5 people have mistaken for one of those "Juno" phones you can buy at Hot Topic. So many things I want out of this house.

It could be a classy affair. I'd make little silver dollar sized pancakes as treats for buyers. It'd be open to just my friends (and by "friends" I mean anyone reading this blog) with cash in hand and a desire to buy awesome things. I have a "Saved by The Bell" board game. Also "Sigmund and The Sea Monsters." I have a box of vintage 8mm porn from the 1960s. I have a Pac Man thermos. I have a Boy George doll.

This is all just a thought. I don't know if a friends-only indoor garage sale is the way to go. But I HAVE TO MAKE THIS HOUSE HAVE FEWER THINGS IN IT.

And while I'm on the subject, my friend Charlotte still wants to sell her big loveseat. Currently it sits in our entryway/living room area because she had no other place to put it. She wants a hundred bucks for it. I think she said she'd take $85 the other day. I posted about this before but there were no takers, only people passing judgment on its perceived attractiveness. One of y'all has to come buy this dang thing:

2 years old from Pacific Design Center, was $800 when new. Very good condition
43" High at Back
42"wide
34" deep from front to back
21" high from floor to seat
in West Hollywood for pickup

art post 10.1: Neck Face
I like Neck Face so much that over the past five years I've bought six pieces by him. The first ones I got were these tiny 3" x 3" drawings that he just whipped off on the back of Sanrio post-it notes. If I were a better photographer or if you were here in my apartment you could actually see the little imprint and name "Pochaco" on the backside (Pochaco is one of the Sanrio characters, by the way).

Anyway, I was being cheap when I bought these mini-pieces for almost no money, but I think their size is inversely proportional to their amount of awesome. They are what inspired my pal Robert

flyrail to say once, while visiting and looking around the apartment at the pieces I'd purchased up to that point, "You seem to have a lot of violent art. Have you thought about that?"

That made me laugh because he was right. And

moroccomole had already beaten him to the punch with that assessment, because when I brought them home he said, "Oh good, we needed more doom in here."

There are three other Neck Face pieces and I'll post those next, the biggest one of them is, in fact, even more violent than these. So no one can accuse me of being cynically speculative and not buying the stuff I love, I guess.

Here's a link to his Wikipedia page, which in turn has more links to some great higher-resolution stuff

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neckface

itunes: all - all (the last of them, unless you count words that also start with "all"
sweating in the unseasonable heat, unpacking

moroccomole after his triumphant return from Dallas's USA Film Festival where he was told to "shut up" by none other than Meat Loaf (I'll direct you to his post when he decides to explain the whole story) and writing my goofy anonymous gay entertainment news column (coming soon to a regional gay and/or lesbian newspaper near you, sans byline), and listening to...

all nite - janet jackson
all of my friends were there - the kinks
all over again - johnny cash
all over now - aimee mann
all over the world - e.l.o.
all right now - free
all said + done - dios
all shapes - JDSY
all that heaven will allow - the mavericks
all that i need is to be loved - moby
all that is my own - nico
all that she wants (banghra version) - ace of base
all that we've go left - george jones
all that you have is your soul - tracy chapman
all the angels said go to her - half japanese
all the king's horses - aretha franklin
all the king's horses - dusty springfield
all the money's gone - flare
all the money's gone - these immortal souls
all the same - bubba sparxxx
all the way - lena horne
all the way with jesus - buck owens
all the world loves lovers - prefab sprout
all this i've done for you - husker du
all this love that i'm giving - gwen macrae
all this useless beauty - lush
all those broken birds singing winter into spring - jasper tx
all those expectations (weak remix) - peter bjorn & john
all through the night - naomi campbell
all together - novi singers
all together now - the farm
all tomorrow's parties - the velvet underground
all we have broken shines - brightblack morning light
all we have is now - flaming lips
all woman - lisa stansfield
all you get from love is a love song - the carpenters
all you wanted - michelle branch
all your jeans were too tight - american music club
all your women things - smog
all-consumer - velocity girl

The Elevator Strained Under The Stress of Our Combined Pounds, Plus Transylvanian Hunger
Went to Barneys with Xtreem Aaron to:

1. Buy my mom a Mother's Day gift (unfindable)
2. Look for a birthday gift for

moroccomole (May 18th, also unfindable--I had this big idea I was going to find MM a new messenger bag because his old one died of disintegration and he's been walking around with this cheap, tacky, free OUTFEST nylon bag for weeks and weeks now and it's just un-good, but did you know that the clean black perfect Prada messenger bags are $1,500 and you still have to suffer the indignity of having a big metal triangle permanently attached to them that screams PRADA! FUCKING PRADA! I BUY PRADA! -- so yeah, no way, Miuccia).
3. Buy a candle (found two, but got a super-pitch for some new ones that cost like 80 bucks each and the lady had this whole rap going about how the glass they come in is individually handblown and each one is unique and they use them in all the chicest monasteries and whatnot and how they were ONLY 80 DOLLARS EACH--not to worry, I didn't one, even though they all smelled amazing. Because I just don't do that)

But none of that is as good as the events of the elevator. XA and I walked into the box and we were followed by a girl (think Ashley Tisdale, sunglasses inside, expensive gladiator sandals, wishes she could afford something from the huge Goyard display going on in the front of the store and who knows she just might be able to already) and a guy (pocket-gay-of-the-year, 75lbs MAYBE, modified fauxhawk but actually just that little fauxhawky peak in the front, stove-pipe jeans, too-small v-neck t-shirt with big word like RETRIBUTION on the front of it).

I could post a sound clip of me trying to do an impersonation of them as they rode with us down to the parking garage under the store, but even I couldn't do justice to that weirdest of all native So-Cal accents, the clipped, 1982ish, exaggerated-Valley Girl-meets-"betch-speak" and whiney malaise that was coming out of the mouths of our fellow shoppers.

So try to recreate those elements in your mind as I try to spell their speech patterns phonetically.

Him: Mah ah hrts [my eye hurts]

Her: Mah er hrts [my ear hurts]

Him, pulling on his face skin in the mirror behind us--the entire back wall of the Barneys elevator is a mirror:

eh fill uhfl [I feel awful]

Her: Mih too [me too]

A pause while the guy stands in profile against the full-length mirror. He arches his body backwards until his head is leaning against the wall of the elevator and his body is curved in front of the mirror. He touches his stomach and pushes it out as far as it will go, which is to say that it doesn't go out at all, even in the most sad anorexic fantasy.

Her: Wht rr you do-ehng? [what are you doing]

Him, after sharp exhalation: ehm feht [i'm fat]

Both XA and I have been silent during this exchange. But the guy's last words made me laugh spontaneously in spite of myself. "Hah," I sort of expelled, but not angrily or anything. I assumed he was kidding so I kind of chuckled. Then I said, pointing at my own belly. "THIS is fat."

I could tell they didn't know if they should be shocked or to laugh along and so they both kind of had that animal-frozen-in-the-road face (or as best as I could tell from her sunglasses, but he definitely did.) Then the elevator doors opened and they ran out giggling.

Me: "Bye, Fatty!"

Went home and bought a Darkthrone t-shirt online. I will model it when it arrives. If you're lucky.

Current Music: i en hall med flesk og mjod - darkthrone

IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT. YOU ARE BORED. READ THINGS I WROTE!
1. first up is the latest american idol post. this time i have included a self-taken photo that's very american idol-specific. you can't wait to look at me!

http://www.advocate.com/exclusive_detail_ektid53659.asp

2. second up is my latest column and batch of reviews from movies.com, also posted early today. if you've never been there before, there's my column to the left and the reviews to the right. you just click on the titles and wham you get a review in your face

http://movies.com/moviesproxy/moviewatcher?columnid=951768

3. maybe you missed this thing i wrote for the current "green" issue of the advocate with rufus wainwright on the cover. it's on stands now i think. it's my column about being totally eco and anti-carbon feet and whatnot

http://www.advocate.com/issue_story_ektid53240.asp

I'M PROLIFIC!

itunes all - all
writing movie reviews, listening to:

all fucked up - nashville pussy
all i can do is dream you - roy orbison
all i could do is cry - etta james
all i do is dream of you - patience and prudence
all i need - my bloody valentine
all i said - guru
all i see is you - dusty springfield
all i want - joni mitchell
all i want - the lightning seeds
all i want - mekons
all i want is a fighting chance - millie jackson
all i want is you - roxy music
all i wan to do in life - george jones & janie fricke
all i wanted for christmas was my braces off - kid 606
all in - q tip
all is full of love (in love with funkstorung mix) - bjork
all is full of love (secondotted by funkstorung mix) - bjork
all love (krs-one mix) - ziggy marley
all my friends - pavement
all my friends are dead - turbonegro
all my little words - magnetic fields
all my love - led zeppelin
all night - sam phillips
all night long - clifton chenier
all night long (touch me) - cathy dennis

The No-Face Guy, Plus The No-Like-To-Board-A-Plane Guy
1. My neighborhood's newest homeless guy has no face. It's concave, like someone took a head-sized melon baller and scooped the features off his face. He's got a mouth-hole sorta but I couldn't see lips and some nostrils against flat skin and little tiny eye craters that I guess he can see out of because he walks more or less in a straight line. I am fascinated by this. Do we think this is the result of some chemical accident or are people born faceless sometimes?

2. New blog that I enjoy a lot:
http://www.theblackoven.blogspot.com/

3. My beloved Sonia at Irv's Burgers has been written up in a new book called "Hamburger America: A State-by-State Guide to 100 Great Burger Joints." She's excited. We're excited. She deserves to be in there.

4. The Knoll "Life Chair" arrived. It's great. Now it's making me itch to buy a new desk to continue the ergonomic revolution. Also to ditch this non-desk we constructed out of cubes and a board. It's like a super ugly person marrying a sleek modern beautiful person. All wrong.

5. I've booked my next flight to Dallas to visit my mother. I'll be there from May 3rd to the 9th. I just took my first airplane-terror-preventing Xanax this morning.

6. Something weird is afoot with one of my main writing jobs. This is a cryptic post because I'm not supposed to know about it yet because none of it is public knowledge outside of some people above me. But I know. It's not bad, so don't fret. But I will entertain creative guessing in the comments page.

7. I need some MP3s of some 80s things for my shift on Saturday. Who has extended or remixed versions of:
Erasure - Chains of Love
Berlin - The Metro
Shannon - Give Me Tonight
Prince - Raspberry Beret
George Michael - Faith
Janet Jackson - Nasty and/or Pleasure Principle
Starpoint - Object of My Desire
Duran Duran - Rio and/or Hungry Like The Wolf and/or Wild Boys
Human League - Don't You Want Me

The Double LP Gatefold Sleeve of Despair, Plus I Go Places and I Meet New Exciting People
Saturday was "Record Store Day" at record stores all across the country. So I felt like it was my duty as a record-loving person to go to Amoeba and buy one.

I used to go to Destroy All Music back when we first moved here. I also bought some records at Amok back then. They're both closed now. I used to buy records at Aron's even though almost every single time I went in there I encountered snotty and/or aloof behavior on the part of most of the employees. I never shopped at Vinyl Fetish because their employees made Aron's seem like a cuddle party. Fat Beats is good and, I think, still in business. I like Fingerprints in Long Beach and Dark Realm in Downey. You can also buy some records at Ooga Booga and Family even though neither is specifically a record store.

But I went to Amoeba because Xtreem Aaron works there and I had stuff to trade in. Some old 80s vinyl that's now on CD and in use on 80s Saturdays at Eagle. I got a crappy amount of credit from one of their employees who doesn't know who Pamala Stanley is and therefore "had to pass" on her awesome "Coming Out of Hiding" record.

But dumb people don't ever beat me down. So then I went straight to the metal rack and bought "Ill Innocence" by Gallhammer, who are a black metal/doom trio of ladies from Japan, found and championed by Darkthrone and so enamored of Hellhammer that they named themselves after that band. And now a photo of me holding it, minus the last photo's nipple distraction.

When I brought it home and put it on the turntable,

moroccomole walked into the living room, listened for three seconds and announced, "This song is called 'Love Theme From "Worst Neighbor Ever."'"

Also, please enjoy them in performance:

Sunday I went to the Eagle to meet visitors Victor

bearzbub and Ant

damageink. We also we ate Cuban food because I love fried bananas. I also ran into the formerly-only-known-to-me-via LJ/now-known-to-me-in-real-life Jeff

jeffla and Heath

likethecandybar. Heath went to the same high school I did, but way later since I'm old and he's not, so that's our weird connection. They both like to eat quite a bit and wolfed down some barbecue while I stood by watching them chew. They also did a lot of dabbing at each others' mouths with napkins, which was sweet in that couple way where you spend all your time grooming the other one like a monkey. I know I'm always pulling threads and lint and cookie crumbs off MM.

Anyway, GALLHAMMER!

Mariah Carey Week on American Idol. My recap for Advocate.com is here and now...
http://www.advocate.com/exclusive_detail_ektid53547.asp