Andy
October 26th, 2003“So I decided to go gray so nobody would know how old I was and I would look younger to them than how old they thought I was. I would gain a lot by going gray: (1) I would have old problems, which were easier to take than young problems, (2) everyone would be impressed by how young I looked, and (3) I would be relieved of the responsibility of acting young — I could occassionally lapse into eccentricity or senility and no one would think anything of it because of my gray hair. When you’ve got gray hair, every move you make seems young and spry, instead of just being normally active. It’s like you’re getting a new talent. So I dyed my hair gray when I was about twenty-three or twenty-four.”
I did a project in college where we were to pick a dead artist from any age or medium, and perform a 7 minute peice as that person, taking on all mannerisms and quirks that we could dig up and duplicate. I chose Andy Warhol. I lived and breathed this project for about 3 weeks; watched every documentary I could find, went to every pop-art exhibit in New York, read and re-read all of his biographies. I even spent an entire day walking through the east village in full Andy garb with the wig and the clothes and everything. In the end, I threw all of my preperation out the window, went onstage, and ad-libbed the entire thing.
They loved it. I got an A+ and a standing O. Woot!
I still have the wig.
Got Spunk?
October 23rd, 2003I’m having a serious problem with cash register clerks and store managers who refuse to accept the new $20 bill. I’ve been to 2 fastfood places, a Target, a grocery store, and a fucking movie theater where the person at the register has to call for a manager and make a huge production about “this counterfeit-looking bill”. How the fuck do you run a business where you exchange cash for service each damn day and NOT know about the new money? Haven’t we all seen the posters and ads? You ignorant bitches.
Work is a madhouse. A MADHOUSE. It’s been nonstop all week, and it’s only getting crazier. Johnny Depp was wandering the lobby the other day and I barely got to take notice b/c I was busy downgrading a family of 4 from their suite into a single room due to a Reservations oversell. It’s all been a bit much, really, so I’ve decided to run away to DC this weekend and play with the Kyle, who I love for entries like that one. I sometimes give in to the power of Starbucks too, boy, altho I’m thinking my ass is too poor for grande mocha frapps. I’m just looking forward to a weekend of junkfood, museum-visits, mp3-swapping, and piling up into bed to watch Felicity DVD’s — (I’ve been watching Season 2 lately via Netflix, btw, and dammit, I miss this show) — it’s just really my kind of fun. In my experience so far, Ky’s the one saving grace for that wicked little town. Oh, wait, they have cool metros too. Ok, two saving graces.
I’m dangerously close to abandoning my beloved Sony MD and buying an iPod. The fact that they could hold my entire mp3 collection just arrests me, not to mention my utter adoration of promos & ads. They’re just too damn cool!
Random truth: I could sit on the train and zone out to “For Me This Is Heaven” by Jimmy Eat World all damn day.
An adorable email lies in my inbox at the moment. I got it yesterday, and with it was attatched this twinkly little thing. 
Aw, thanks for the love, man. You made me look less tired! My favorite part is the innuendo-laden tagline. ROCK.
This Is What It Feels Like When Blogs Cry
October 22nd, 2003Yes, yes, yes. I heard all about his little post. Wha? He made a shallow remark? The shirtless boy COVERED IN BEER on his own page called me a name? SHOCK! Those of you who managed to get sucked into the most recent lameass blogging spat (or blog-COMMENTS spat —- even more lameass) know exactly who I mean. Mr. “Look at me! Look at me!”, the lonely little lad over @ flamingjaded.com or whatever, who serves as the perfect example of what can go wrong when you give a preteen some bandwith and a digital camera. Yes, him — the one I choose not to link to… cuz afterall, isn’t that what all this is about anyway? Perpetuating web-traffic? Oh, and being scandalous.
*yawn*
“A vampire with AIDS”. Isn’t that an oxymoron or something? I’m not really sure how that would work… I’m a vampire and I get AIDS? Bitch, I’m undead! I don’t even have an immune system! Wouldn’t the whole deathly disease just be a barren crusade? Let’s not even mention the fact that i skipped HIV and went straight to AIDS. God, what are they teaching kids in D.C.?
I suppose I could play aloof and faux-secure and pretend to suddenly just LOVE the bullshit posts that this kid churns out, and write about how I just desperately ACHE to join forces with him and be fabulous in New York… but really, why do that? It’s already being done elsewhere, and $5 says it’s all just to get a dual prettyboy photo taken for the next website post. Let’s abandon everything for the want of more hourly site hits! Disses and rebuttals and comments, oh my! Ugh, it’s such NON-drama. It’s like a rerun of Degrassi on some bootleg network like The N, or Saved By the Bell: The New Class, season 3. It’s like really bad fanfic.
And frankly (for the record), I like vampires. They’re pretty, homoerotic, and noncturnal — how wonderful is that? But if I were to be a fictional monster? I’d fancy myself being something much more spry and wiley, like a werewolf — only with less Teen Wolf and a bit more “Oz” circa Buffy Season 3. Hells yeah.
In other news, I paid my Mastercard bill today — nay! I made a minimum payment, a mere dent to the damage, and now it actually fucking hurts to walk.
Occassionally Quasi-Fabulous
October 21st, 2003Nobody hates reading about the supposedly “fabulous lives” of major-city bloggers more than I do, and I’m sure you’re not HALF as bored with my life as I am. That being said, sometimes cool things happen…
For all the winners in the hizzy who are blessed with the beauty of HBO, look for Spriteboy on an upcoming episode of Sex&theCity. They spent the last 2 days shooting @ Hudson and I managed to weasel my mug in some shots here and there. The episode airs on January 4th — we’ll see what winds up on the show and what ends up on the cutting room floor. Whatever, I still got my $75 an hour (on top of my regular work pay) for standing around and looking pretty. And I did kinda enjoy seeing Kim Cattrall and her skankass sex scene live in person, and truth be told, it’s good good fun to stand around the lobby, pretending to be bored by the whole production going on. “Hi, checking in? Great. Oh that. They’re just shooting Sex&theCity. Yes, that’s Sarah Jessica Parker. Credit card, please….” 
Playing with man-about-town BrooklynAaron and the beautiful Bravo this past weekend was so much more hella cool anyway. Three bloggers, no waiting. They’ve both already filled in the blanks on their own sites (and have threatened my life if I dare to tell everyone what REALLY went down on Saturday night), so I’ll spare the recap on my end and just let everyone go about their lives.
Ubercool boys, those two.
Serious as cancer when I say that rythym is a dancer. And also when I say that “Please Let That Be You” by The Rentals is so very the damn anthem. You really have no idea.
Who Am I To Disagree?
October 20th, 2003Slept in late. Wandered downtown. Bought brownies in Union Sq and wandered around taking pictures and listening to a soothing mix on my mp3 player. It was a pretty pretty day.
Friday Five
October 17th, 2003I just created a new minidisc mix! 65 new crisp, clean songs to jam to on my trainrides. Woot! Heading out to Target, man. But just before I go, here’s some Friday Five for you:
1. Name five things in your refrigerator.
- 2 unopened (and expired) quarts of 99cent milk
- a tupperware dish i am too scared to open
- 2 pitchers of iced tea
- an empty pizza box
- jelly
2. Name five things in your freezer.
- 3 pints of $1.99 strawberry ice cream
- 10 ice cube trays (including the funky IKEA ones, for those days that I really just need to have star-shaped ice)
- 2 hunks of ground beef
- 3 packages of skinless chicken breast
- 4 translucent drinking mugs
3. Name five things under your kitchen sink.
- i don’t look under my kitchen sink
4. Name five things around your computer.
see for yourself.
5. Name five things in your medicine cabinet.
- Crest Whitening Strips
- cough syrup
- contact saline solution
- hair putty
- bandaids
Shutting It Down
October 17th, 2003So, on my way to work the other yesterday, I was heading around the corner on 58th street and bumped into this guy standing out front of Duane Reade. It actually seemed like he’d walked into me, but I was in a good mood cuz I’d just TALKED TO THEM, so I stopped to make sure he was ok. He bent down and picked something off the ground, something glass, and looked me square in the eye:
“Man, you just broke my glasses.”
Oh hell no.
I don’t know what it was, guys. It might have been the loads of stress I’ve been under @ work, it might have been b/c I’d listened to some Eminem earlier on the train, or maybe it was just the frustration of somebody trying to scam me. Whatever it was, I looked up to the sky, channelled the spirit of St. Joshua (of 14th St), and I fucking lost it on this motherfucker.
“No I didn’t!” I practically shouted (and I’m not really a shouter). “I saw you do this bullshit to somebody on 14th Street a few days ago!”
He stepped into my face, trying to scare me down. “You fucking broke my glasses. These cost me $100.”
“Those are READING glasses,” I informed him, standing as tall as I could in big shoes. Stupid ignorant bitch. He couldn’t have been older than 17 or 18. How is it possible for the Bronx to keep churning out these little punklets? The whole thing really pissed me off. “Look, I know what you’re trying to do here. This is the dumbest scam I’ve ever seen. You guys must think Manhattan is full of idiots.”
“My fucking are—”
“PICK UP YOUR OWN GLASSES” I hollered. “I’M NOT PAYING YOU SHIT!”
And I huffed away. Not 8 steps later, I ran into a crew of Hudson Kids leaving work. They were all, “Hey Chris!” but I had to cut them right off. I was determined to shut the bullshit down. “See that little punk @ the corner?” I said as loudly as I could. “He’s gonna try and walk into you on purpose and make you think that you busted his glasses!”
The wannabe-scammer was watching me call out his game, and did his best to look menacing from afar. But I was standing there with the great big bellman from work, and I wasn’t one bit intimidated.
“It’s a fucking SCAM that these kids try and pull on busy streets,” I continued, adrenalyne just pumping through me. “And it’s BULLSHIT.”
Suddenly, ppl coming out of the store were taking notice of him. The guy @ the corner took notice of them and tried to walk away.
“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” I cried, pointing furiously. “In fact, don’t even TALK to his punkass! Just IGNORE HIM!”
My Hudson friends began laughing hysterically and hurried to the end of the block so that they could take turns bumping into him, and I? had the best fucking walk to work.
The Missing Link
October 16th, 2003
I miss her. I miss the squeals of joy (“Hiiiiiiiii!”) when she’d see me in the lobby @ work. I miss knowing that somebody in that crazy circus they call a hotel actually had my back. I miss her getting tipsy at parties. I miss her pulling me aside to makeout with me while her Perfect Boyfriend watches from a few feet away. I miss hearing all about her latest incredible adventures, albeit a weekend bicycle hike to Boston, or a fight with a business man in line at the deli. I miss it all.
Come back, Jax! Why have you forsaken me?