You Ain’t No Diva

It rained and drizzled all freakin’ day, I woke up coughing and it was after 5pm.  I didn’t know what else to do with my wet, grey day so I just drugged myself up on lots of meds and spent the evening at home.  The greater part of my evening was spent chatting with my ever-witty and always very confused buddy Tom while we watched Vh1′s Diva Duets hosted by Queen Latifah and her boobs.  What fun!   It was indeed a big night of jabs, giggles, and plenty of AIM sound effects blaring from my desktop speakers.  The following is a few bits and peices of the running commentary (I’ve tried to correct the sentance structure and spelling best as I could, Tom and I tend to make up our own grammatical laws as we go).

Sprite:  Yay, it’s on!  I totally forgot this was on tonight. 
Tom: Remember Divas Las Vegas last year?  That one was pretty good, despite hosting that really Elvis cover by Shakira.
Sprite: Dude, Shakira sucks ass.  She sounds like a fucking goat on speed.
Tom: QUIET!  Look!  The Queen!
Sprite: QUEEN!  QUEEEEEEEN!  Latifah, not me.  
Tom: Sing, Latifah!  I like your voice!  
Sprite: I like your boobs! 
Tom: Your boobs should have their own publicist! 
Sprite: Man, only she could get away with full body leather and riding in to the arena in a motorcycle.  She could kick everybody’s ass if she wanted too. 
[Celine Dion floats onstage, strikes a bunch of statue poses, and barely performs]
Sprite: Um, what happened to Celine Dion? 
Tom: She looks like a cancer survivor.  Her hair fell off. 
Sprite: She looks like the son of Annie Lennox. 
Tom: Yeah, like if Clay Aiken and Annie Lennox had a son, then threw it in a tanning bed for fourteen hours until its skin dried out and crinkled like wax paper
Sprite: somebody said i looked liek clay aiken.  It pissed me off.
Tom: in what way do you look like clay aiken?
Sprite: the hair? i chopped off the Oasis shag and it’s red now. 
Tom: i liked the shag, btw
Sprite:  So did i but i was feeling too british. it was like i was invoking the rogue spirit of Noel Galleghar.  Somebody asked me what time it was and i called them a bloody twat and punched them in the head.
Tom: k.. .
Sprite: Those Chrysler commercial that Celine does are getting on my nerves.  They’re like high class home videos.
Tom: I am Celine Dion!  And I! am the greatest! singer! in! the world!
Sprite: Hee.
[Sharon Osbourne shows up and is apparently a cohost for the evening.  She's not even keeping track of the time and they end up cutting to a commericial in the middle of her segment]
Tom: Sharon Osbourne is drunk. 
Sprite: She’s a mess.  She beats up Iraqi women. 
Tom:>She does?
Sprite: Hell yeah, and it’s like, haven’t those poor women been through enough?
Tom: maybe she was trying to show support for the troops.  Could be worse — at least she didn’t send Kelly over to perform for the troops at war.  That would have just been wrong.
Sprite: what the fuck is sharon saying? does she even know there are ppl in th room?
Tom:>Sharon is so great.  She’s like completely oblivious to the fact that her life is completely not normal. 
Sprite: and also that she’s married to a tree. Ozy’s older than earth.
Tom: It’s sad, but true.
[Mary J. Blige does a lot of screaming and crying, like last year]
Sprite: woo-hoo!  we going to church up in here! 
Tom: damn, mary.  don’t go have a heart attack there.  least not on stage.
Sprite: She’s like the Queen of Pain.  I’ll bet she has like, this sex dungeon in her house to torture men but she never gets around to it b/c she’s too consumed with pain and wailing and crying towards the heavens for no more drama.  
Tom: And ranking in those multiplatinum sales. 
Sprite: Let’s not piss her off.  God bless her.
[We are smacked in the head with a scary performance by Whitney Houston & Bobby Brown, aka the Bonnie & Clyde of Jersey}
Tom: Get off my TV, crackheads. 
Sprite: Which one is Whitney and which one is Bobby?  They sound the same. 
Tom: not even Bruce Willis in Unbreakable could survive the trainwreck that is Whitney.
Sprite: The matching outfits? totally an attempt to look cutesy for us so we won't know they both just snorted a line before stumbling onstage.  what's with all the yellow?
Tom: imagine it in person.  
Sprite: They look like refugees from 1800flowers.com. 
Tom: Whitney thinks she's perfomring for Save the Weed.  Just look at her.
Sprite: Yeah.  See how fast she ran offstage? her dealer was back there with a fresh dimebag. 
Tom: Hee! 
Sprite: You know that Queen Lahtifah was backstage like, "You keep those fools away from me." 
Tom: They'd probably try and steal Latifah's boobs to sell on the street for crack.
[breif pause]
Sprite: Ok I’m back.  Had to refill on iced tea and chorizo.  I flipped to Clueless for a little bit.  Did Alicia Silverstone die or something? 
Tom: No.  She’s in hiding. 
Sprite: from what? 
Tom: the truth maybe?  or maybe thetruth.com commercials?
Sprite: Probably from Adrien Brody.  He’s spreading mono, it’s like killing half the women of Hollywood and most of the boys in West Hollywood. 
Tom: Hee! you know, for a ‘duets show” there sure is a lot of friggin sucky solo performances.
[Jewel sings]
Sprite: i don’t get it. what’s going on with her? When the fuck did she cross the Canadian borders and become a diva?  Ohh wait, she’s wearing bubble wrap.  Ok, well that’s a step in the right direction. 
Tom: um. Boobies. 
Sprite: At least she’s picking ONE note and sticking with it this time.  Glad we got her away from all that — 
Tom: Yodeling. 
Sprite: When did she try and become Kylie?  Her entire preformance was like a Cosmo fashion layout.
Tom: Hi, my name is Jewel. My voice has turned to shit and I’ve tarted myself up like human size Barbie. You better buy my album, or I swear I will tear your throat out w/ my snaggle tooth.
[Aisha Tyler, the hottest and funniest mama in comedy, gets a pedicure and prank calls Sharon Osbourne, threatening to beat up her up if she doesn't "give me back my $50 dollars that you owe me, bitch!"]
Tom: Aisha Tyler!  hi, Aisha!
Sprite: Aisha is HOT!  She’s the momma of my nubian babies. 
Tom: No, sorry, she be mine.
Sprite: Aisha looks like a modern woman, maybe we can put an Y Tu Mama Tambien spin on it?
Tom: You’re a little scary with all these baby mommas, sprite. 
Sprite: I know.  Fucking child support is killing me.  She’s just gorgeous though.  Why doesn’t she have her own show yet?
Tom: She’s been on Friends lately.
Sprite: Paul Rudd was on an episode of Friends tonight.  How long has this been going on?  Was that a rerun?  I’m so behind on the Friends bubble. 
Tom: Pheobe’s lookin mighty rough lately. 
Sprite:  Right?  Is Joey a ‘mo yet?
[J.Lo wannabe Beyonce Knowles oversings the shit out of some old song and wiggles around the stage in a dress probably made to fit a 9 year old girl]
Tom: Beyonce sucks.  I am not fooled by her, trying to revive a career with a lameass voice-echo machine. 
Sprite: Yeah, Beyonce we are NOT fooled!  Kelly is better!
Tom: Yeah, Kelly is way better. 
Sprite: And she probably doesn’t beat her assistants. 
[Lisa Marie Pressley snarls at us and yells stuff about power failure in the South]
Sprite: Lisa Marie is hurting my ears.  Make her stop.
Tom: Hi I’m 30-something and I still don’t have a career… oh wait maybe that should tell me something. 
Sprite: I guess she grew bored with the Art of Pouting.  Now she’s taken up Wiggling and Wailing.  Is that Pat Benetar with her?!  What’s going on?! 
Tom: It’s a sad ghost of her former self, I think. 
Sprite: Why is she dressed like a coal miner?  What the fuck is she doing there? 
Tom: Trying to recreate stage presence. 
Sprite: I guess the residual checks quit coming.
Tom: There’s a fucking flower on pat’s hat!  Who are you, Pat? a train conductor or Blossom?
Sprite: no bitch those are her ears  too many facelifts
Tom: ugh.
Sprite: ewww!  They’re dong that tacky thing where they make the audience sing so they can take a break.
Tom: and the audience didn’t catch on right away
Sprite: i know, they were quieter than Pamela Anderson watching Jeopordy
Tom: right?
Sprite: i hate audience participation events
Tom: thats why you were so bad when you tried to join that cult.
Sprite: i told yu not to ever talk about that!

Mad Cowboy

May 21st, 2003

I was standing on my end of the platform, minding my own business, patiently waiting on the train when he stepped into my field of vision.  His outfit was the ugliest thing I’d ever seen in my life.  So repellent, so laughable, so fucking heinous that I was forced to take a picture of it.

 

I want to know what the fuck he was thinking when he walked out of his apartment in this getup.  Doesn’t he have a roommate or neighbor or SOMEBODY who cares about him enough to smack him over the head with something heavy and zap him a few with a stun gun until he realizes the folly of his ways?  Who the hell throws on a pair of camoflauge koolots (and wear them with a belt), a leather vest, and a pair of Doc Martens and actually thinks that it all looks okay?  Whoever the hell even OWNS these items of clothing needs to be shot in the face. 

Hey, cowboy, the next time you get an urge to go outside all dressed up like the bastard son of a Village Person?  FIGHT IT.

 

 

For MORE of my nonsense, click the hyperlink @ the top of the page.

---

Come Rain or Come Shine

May 21st, 2003

Work SUCKED the big one tonight.  Not only was my shift long, drawn out, and tedious but it eventually snowballed into a big, ugly verbal smackdown between that Adolph (aka Germany’s insult to hotel management) and myself.  It’s rare that I ever lose my cool with an authority figure, especially one who oversees my status on the payroll, but can only go so far with me before I end up taking things personally.  Once I take things personally? just run away and hide your face.  Long story short: we got into a serious disagreement over what to do when a guest is irate and the manager on duty is nowhere to be found.  I have this crazy idea that if somebody is screaming for a manager, I should fucking get a manager immediately, whereas Adolph opts for a more Gen-X school of thought: It’s been a long day and I’m tired so don’t come to me — figure it out for yourself.  He was seriously annoyed with me for making him come out and do his JOB.  This prompted me to speak my peice on a few things, prompting him to attempt “putting me in check” (keyword being ATTEMPT), to which I explained that I was not @ all interested in playing Status Games and that evading the issue like that? was only a GLOWING EXAMPLE of the type of bullshit I’m sick of.  You sit in that bigass office in the back of the hotel and I never see your face once during an 8hr shift — meanwhile, I’m on my feet dealing with these people face to face and get the Evil Eye if I DARE ask for some managerial assistance every once in awhile.  He began whining to me about the pressures of his job and the long hours and blahblahblah.  I’m sorry but wasn’t that YOU who gladly took on the fancyass title of Front Office Manager and eagerly welcomed the hefty salary that came with it?  Yeah, I thought so.  Cry me a river, Britney.   

The hotel is a madhouse and it gets us all really riled up sometimes.  I guess tonight things just came to a head-on collision between the big bumbling oaf and the wiry little spriteboy.  We’ll see if my little “And lemme tell you something ELSE…” outburst tonight comes back to bite me in the ass.  I doubt it but you never know.  Unemployment would suck.  Thank God I have the day off tomorrow, I need me some serious R&R.  I’m thinking a movie or something b/c the weather is looking mighty horrendous this week.

You’re kidding me, right? 

Is it just me, or does the usually-yummy Paul Walker look a lot like a crusty, old asian Samurai in the poster for 2 Fast 2 Furious?  I swear, I’ve been seeing it all over the subways lately and I kept shake the feeling that I’m looking at the face of Mr. Miyagi.

Ok, the Al Quaeda is officially on my last nerve.  My parents called me today, all upset, urging me to be extra careful b/c of the latest bullshit posted on the Al Quaeda website.  Some kind of special message or something to all Muslims in the New York/Washington/Boston metro areas, urging them to get out of the city.  I’m not sure, I refuse to follow that shit and my parents really weren’t that clear on it.  But they were upset and that pissed me off.  My folks have enough going on already, they hardly need to be worried about their only son in New York getting blown to bits by yet another Taleban bitch, or some other crazed fool from Iraq.  Fuck ya’ll. 

In further American News: Reuben won the contest!  Yay for him, altho if they were gonna give the crown to big, black, bootylicious soulsingers it should have gone to Frenchie.  I’m just saying.  A guy @ on the subway today told me I looked like Clay Aiken, which pissed me off.  I think it’s the red hair b/c DEAR GOD I hope we have nothing else in common.  I think it rocks that he made it all the way to the top 2, especially when he was first eliminated for not being hot enough.  But still, I’m glad he didn’t win b/c I’m scurred of one day picking up an issue of Rolling Stone and seeing a meant-to-be-provacative photo spread of him.  Ugh.  This show so annoys me.  Also, what have I done to deserve this?

---

This Subway Ain’t No Disco Inferno

May 20th, 2003

So I don’t know if it’s allergies or a viral infection or Sars or what, but I’ve got one helluva whooping cough.  The kind of cough that squeezes your kidneys, burns your throat and leaves it feeling all sticky afterwards.  Yeah, gross.  And it’s been like a month since I was sick but I’m still a-coughing.  Being a big boy of 24, I turned to my hard-earned health insurance to find a trusty old medicine man in my hood to make my cough go away.  It turned out to be much more difficult than I thought.  On the commercials, they make it look like it’s so easy to find a doctor that meets your needs.  Just go online, type on the keyboard, and BOOM there you go.  I can assure you that what you see is a bold-faced lie.  It AIN’T that simple.  I wasted the better part of my morning and early afternoon bouncing around Washington Heights/Inwood, looking for SOMEBODY who a) accepted my insurance, b) could see me that same day, and c) spoke more than two words of English.  I finally just ended up going to Duane Reade and stocking up on more maximum-strength, over-the-counter drugs.

A suggestion to The Powers That Be at The WB: Smallville would be an even better show if you just had Tom Welling take his shirt off in every single episode.  No, for real.  I’m talking about ratings here, people.  It’s for the ratings, for the good of the franchise.  Has nothing to do with the fact that the sight of Nekked Clark sent me into a fullbody fever attack.

I dyed my hair last night in a fit of insomnia.  I am currently rocking the red.  It’s a mild shout-out to the great, tortured, uberangsty Angela Chase.  Oh Angela… You are so beautiful it hurts to look at you.  Hardly a moment goes by when me and my crew do not work in a MSCL reference.  Damn those bastards @ ABC!  Assassins!  Long live the memories, man.

red on the head

I went to this coolass art gallery with Schenck today.  He was all about seeing this big exhibit on Larry Clark.  Um, that man is a fucking pervert.  His movies are basically kiddie porn, nothing but pubescant young bodies doing drugs and having sex.  One of his exhibits was a huge wall plastered with all these girlish River Pheonix photo spreads from teeny bopper mags of the 80′s.  Seriously, his shit just makes me go ewwww.  I thought KIDS and Bully were both way too appreciated and praised.  Anyone who tries to discuss his “artwork” w/o acknowledging that he’s a sick puppy just annoys me.  Spare me the “I’m so cultured that kiddie porn doesn’t disturb me” schtick.  Larry Clark is a sick puppy.  The exhibit left me cold and feeling dirrty.  I enjoyed my cool, cleansing mocha frapp @ the Starbucks we went to afterwards much much more.

Work really got on my nerves tonight.  I was under the influence of some seriously strong allergy meds which left me all kinds of drowsy, so I was not in the mood to be nice to people.  It was a pretty busy night, too.  Dammit.  But guess who popped in @ Hudson to say hey?!  Woo-hoo!  It was the first time I’d seen him since he got back to the city and ohhh what a fun reunion it was.  A bouncing ball of energy, that one is!  Hey Randyboy, wave at me from the window of your 2nd rate yet still grand Astoria view of Manhattan — I’ll climb to the top of the Chrysler Building and wave back!

Randomly hung out with Stefan afterwork.  We both got off around 2am and just wandered down to Times Sq. like two fools with nothing better to do.  Sometimes it’s just too weird, the schedule I have.  Anyway, he and I were sadly dissappointed to find everything in midtown closed.  I swear, New York is becoming so lame with that mess.  What happened to the whole “city that never sleeps”?  Not so much, apparently. 

I ended up having quite a time waiting for the A train though!  I was walking down the platform and my bottle of eyedrops slipped outta my hand and down into the subway tracks.  Those little suckers ain’t cheap you know, cost me $4.75 for a new bottle, so I strapped my backpack on tight and plunged down into the tracks to go get my shit.  It was SOO COOL!  I have been aching to roam the empty tracks ever since I moved here and now I finally was doing it!  I felt so free!  I began whisking across the tracks in a wild fashion, throwing my head back and laughing heartilly towards the heavens.  And then I broke into dance!  DANCE!  I Billy Ellioted my way across those tracks like an fiery banshee !  That is, until one of those fucking subway cops came over and hollered at me, totally pissing on my happy moment.  Whatever.  I still got to do it, though… and my bottle of eyedrops is sitting safely on my bedstand where it belongs. 

---

Kill Whitey

May 19th, 2003

Let me preface this with the truth that I have never really met someone who is albino.  I’ve seen a few here and there, but it’s so few and far in between that it’s just a quick moment of “Oh an Albino” and then you keep going about your day.  Other than my deep deep love for the movie Powder, I don’t really have any preconceived notions about the Albinos as a people — that is, until I read all this ridiculous hype about the backlash and uproar they’re stirring over the badguys in the new Matrix movie.  Now I just think they’re all just a bunch of ignorant fools.  Albinos all over the world are joining forces with NOAH (the National Organization for Albinoism and Hypnopigmentation) and revolting against the movie for its “unfair portrayal of albinos”.  They’re saying that Hollywood is prejudiced against them and does nothing but reinforce the negative stereotype that all albinos are evil criminals.  The Albinos are angry.  They’re seeing red.  They’re pissed as hell and they’re not gonna take it anymore.    Where the fuck do I even begin with this shit?

Victim, victim, who can spot the victim?  Where the hell do they GET this crap?  I’ve heard of many a different stereotype, granted, I’ve even fed into some of them (don’t front, you ALL make a face when somebody from Jersey comes to dinner and don’t you even lie)… but Killer Albinos?  that’s a stereotype I’ve never fucking heard of.  I have never gone to see a movie where the villian is an Albino and, as a result, left the theater wanting to find a big group of albinos and beat them up.  I have YET to see an Albino and clutch my backpack closer to my body out of reflex for fear of getting mugged, raped, or having my world taken over in an sweep of evil domination.  I have NOT ONCE had the urge to go up to an albino and ask them to take me back to the enchanted forest on a unicorn with them.  I have NEVER spotted an albino in a crowd and rushed to sheild a group of small children from the pigmentally-challenged soul.  I have YET to gawk at an albino and whisper to a friend, “There goes one of those WHITE people!  I’ll bet you they’ve got a gun on them right now!  RUN FOR THE HILLS!  IT’S THE WHITE PEOPLE!”  Do they really think that there’s some corrupt script-writing session going on someplace in Hollywood, with all these studioheads and screenwriters gathered around a table, brainstorming ways to smear the Albino community?  Give me a break.  You have got to be kidding.  I am officially annoyed by these people now.  Not b/c they’re albino, but b/c they’re apparently some of the dumbest people on the planet. 

I’m curious: If you beat up an albino, is it a hate-crime?  They’re sort of without color… right?  You albino bitches stay the hell away from me.    I am not afraid to hit you in the face.

---

Adventures In Adultery

May 19th, 2003

Today I somehow slipped into two-timing slut mode during a regular stroll along the Upper West Side.  The weather was gorgeous, the sun was beginning to set, I was feelin mighty fine in a snug pair of jeans and a cute shirt.  I had some R.E.M. blasting on my headphones and was basking in the joy of having found a Tex-Mex cafe along Amsterdam Ave. called Yippie Yi Yo.  Hee!  But out of absolutely nowhere, I somehow ended up here, where I cheated on *sigh* him with *ugh* him.  It was a moment of weakness!  WEAKNESS, I tell you!  I was feeling so down and unattractive — I only wanted to feel good, for someone to notice me and make me feel pretty!  I NEVER meant for it to go as far as it did.

How could I have done this to Eagle?  We’ve been together (and exclusive) for nearly a year and I could not be any happier, he’s so giving and creative and always putting me first!  So it’s not like I’m sick of him, really, he just wasn’t there today when I needed him.  And Broadway? just happened to be there, looking all inviting and masterful and eager to please me.  So I gave in, I succumbed to the urge and gave myself to him like a trailer park slut.  Ugh.   We barely spoke while he worked me over, it was so sordid and secretive — nothing but a cheap little quickie (it was literally over in like, 20 minutes)!   It’s so different with Eagle — he always takes his time and engages me whole-heartedly, like he REALLY wants me to enjoy every moment.  This guy was forceful and disgusting!  No technique, no rythym.  Just a bunch of sloppy hacking and yanking and awkward positioning.  After it was over, I paid him quickly and rushed out looking down at the floor.  I just wanted to run home and shower the awful residue from my body. 

Dear God, what have I done?  What have I DONE?!  I feel so easy and slutty and foolish!  How will I even look Eagle in the eye the next time that I see him?  One look at me and he’ll totally know that I’ve been with someone else.  There’ll be an awkward silence and I’ll probably spit out something really stupid, in an act of desperation, and it’ll just be awful and only embarass the both of us.  Leave me, all of you.  I cannot bear for you all to see me this way, bound and weighted to Rock Bottom by the chains of my sluttiness.  I’ll return once I’ve flogged myself repeatedly with a bamboo cane and taken a vow of chastity and promise to never cheat on my hairstylist again. 

In the meantime, I think I look pretty damn cute in my new ‘do.   

 &
   Before                                             After        

Well, I’m getting pulled into work tomorrow night in exchange for Thursday off, which means I’m gonna miss the final episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  I sort of quit watching that show after they all got outta highschool and the writers added all those new people to the mix (I’m a total old-school Scoobie), but this past season has been pretty kickass.  So, what else is a boy to do when he has Kazaa and a DSL connection? download the wildfeeds and watch the episode before everyone else!  I got some angry e‘s from a few ppl who didn’t know (and got mad at me for leaking) the spoiler about Jen getting killed on Dawson’s Creek so I’ll keep my lips sealed till everyone gets a chance to see it tomorrow night.  But DAMN!  It’s one hell of an episode.  With both of these TV shows gone, I guess I’ll have to find something new to fill the void in my Gen-Y life.  Sex would be nice.

Been in frequent chat with the ever-elusive P lately.  Probably gonna play with him sometime in the next week or so, which’ll be monumental b/c it’s been over a year since I last hung with him.  We lurrrrrrrrrrve P (even though he pays like $500 a month for a corner studio apt. on the upper west side)!   He gets us all kinds of glad. 

I’ve been informed that all the weather over the past week or so has been shitty and rainy and gross, so it looks like I brought the sunshine back from Texas.  You’re all welcome, by the way.

 

 

** Notice how clean-shaven and smooth I look in those pics?  Yeah that was AFTER I shaved the 5 days worth of stubble I’d accquired while in Texas.  Oh dear god, the pain.  The things we do to keep young and beautiful.  Some of the most painful shit I have ever endured in my life.   Just an FYI.

---

« Previous Entries

Next Entries »