look at him work those hams

I read that (VH1 personality and former MuchMusic VJ) Rachel Perry was in Playboy, and I looked for the photos and found them (it is my civic duty to see every naked celebrity who puts it out there, like it or not), and she isn't even naked.

The point of this story is that whenever I think of Rachel Perry, I think of Sloan's Chris Murphy. This is not because they look alike, because they don't, but because I have this vivid memory of her backhanded compliment turned into a openhanded smack in the mouth by said Mr. Murphy. But when I look this up, I get nothing. Did I invent this in my mind? Do I really have to go through all of my old tapes of MuchMusic tapes (yes, tapes of tapes. I couldn't get MM here, so people who could get it would tape it for me because they are good people -- OH! And remember when Fuse was MuchUSA. MuchBetter, more like) to confirm?

Have I finally lost my mind completely? I hope not, because when a VJ says, "I don't care what anyone says, I think your new album is good" and the musician replies, "I don't care what anyone says, I think you are attractive," everything is right in this world.

PS Yes, I watched "Laguna Beach."

PPS Oh. My. God. The "Degrassi" premiere on Friday is an hour. Oh man. My life is so good. Except the part where I have to work until 9PM, but whatever. It's on again later.

PPPS Does anyone need a GMail invite? I have a few. Email me your stuff.

PPPPS What do you do with leftover ham besides pea soup?

I know you've been inside, but what were you in for?

It's the kind of morning where you aren't sure if it is 6AM or 9AM or 5 in the afternoon. The sun will come out tomorrow, I guess. I like days like this, though, especially when it isn't actively raining. Sunshine just makes me squint and burn. Where's the fun in that?

I'm working a west-coast shift today, so the time warp is fitting. Nothing like being chained to a desk past 9PM. Frees up my morning though, to type this and go to the bank and buy dinner provisions. West-coast shift is way better than east-coast shift, wherein I have to report at 9:30 and am rarely on my way before 8. Now that is a day killer.

I think I am getting a job soon. I have a feeling. Where? No idea. But I think October is my lucky month. (Actually, I always want to say November when I am thinking it, so that may be more the case, but that is not soon enough for me.) So, after 30 solid months of looking and looking and crying and sending resumes and waiting and booking interviews and hating and waiting and waiting and being rejected, now I'm just going to get a job somehow? And why? I don't know, man, I just think I am. Isn't that cute? My total break with reality is absolutely adorable.

In other news, I know I flaked on Secret Fun Club, but this has been a September to dismember, and really, chopping people up is way harder than it looks in the movies. Takes forever, too. But no, the real story is that everyone in my life mostly has their birthday all at once, to destroy me, and so I am so busy with shopping and wrapping and crying when things don't arrive on time, and also fun events. There were about 83 such events this past weekend alone, and they were all magical. In case you were wondering. SFC will have its triumphant return in October.

none of my fears are as dear to me

I was going to put in 20 random songs from Ignignokt, but I got bored of that.

I thought I should mention that the lovely Bedford Ave bank totally had my ATM card and gave it to me bright and early this morning. Now I love them.

I made French onion soup tonight, and I had to take an antihistimine to make the pain behind my eye from onion cutting allergicness go away, and oh man, it is so hard to shake off the antihistimine sleepies. Now it is 12:20, though, a respectable hour for actually sleeping, so I have to relearn the sleepies. Yeah.

My new haircolor? Ginger Ale, thank you very much.

PS The plot thickens. Not only is the FTC totally stalking me all over the place (looking up Janest on Dogpile? Like I wouldn't notice?), the weird Massachusetts engineering/architechture/whatever company person found me here and still reads every once in a long while. Oddly enough, that person got here yesterday from clicking a link of me from the Blogger site of a Greenpoint compatriot. How does someone in Cambridge know both me and her? It is not that small a world, is it? IS IT!??!??!?!

Ahahahhahaha! OK. I can laugh about it now, but at the time, it is terrible. And I can't really laugh about it now, either. Because I am nosy and need to know. I really do mean need. I don't think you understand. As ever, if you want to come clean, I'm listening. Isn't it a coming clean time of year?

Oh man, speaking of that, when did Father Blindo of "Passions" write Vatican III, hmm? "Whitney, if you abort the child you are carrying -- your BROTHER'S child -- I cannot absolve you?" Um, what? Sure, to Blindo it's murder, fair enough. But you can get murder absolution. Did they change the law where the only thing you couldn't be forgiven for is suicide, because, you know, you're dead?

See what happens when you don't go to church? They start singing everything and change all the laws. Then again, maybe the incest show shouldn't be my source for all things canonical.

Yeah, I think I better get some sleep now.

find me a job worth doing

Part Time Editorial Assistant
Reply to: XXX@XXX.com
Date: 2004-09-21, 3:12PM EDT

Award-winning illustrated book publisher seeks part-time editorial assistant for 15-20 hours per week. Position pays $8.00 an hour. Must have a college degree, excellent writing, editing, research skills, attention to detail, and an interest in learning about the book publishing process. Relevant experience preferred. Please send cover letter and resume to blah blah...

$8 an hour for a college graduate with excellent skills. PS, if they want you to be able to edit and write, you better believe you're going to be editing and writing with no credit, no matter what assistant title they give you. They want someone with experience who will accept $8 an hour, and I don't doubt that there are people out there in that position. I am basically there myself, but I decided to apply for a sales job at Borders instead. At least they are upfront about what you'll be doing.

By the way, I did meet Jon Stewart last night, and we briefly discussed my longstanding love of all things him, starting with Short Attention Span Theater. For this, he apologized. It was very nice. And then I did some shopping, which was also very nice. The whole day was very nice until I attempted to use the ATM on Bedford Ave. You know it just ate my card. So now I have a fun project this morning of going to that bank to try to get the card back, and then go to my bank to fix things when that ultimately fails.

I openly mock people on "pocket bikes" by the way. If you don't, you're a fool. I've never been one to point and laugh, but clearly the thugged out boys are running these up and down Nassau Ave just to give me something to feel better than, and about. Thanks, kids.

strange things happen when you're not around

I was going to write about all the horrible storm-related deaths and how, though I am sick over the disgusting things that people can do to other people, I somehow understand it, while natural disasters are something I can't even begin to make sense of. But that's no fun, is it?

Someone activated their Virgin Mobile phone (727 area code) with my email address. I'm sorry, that is just too weird. Virgin was like, "Well, maybe someone you know used your email address." And I thinking, "PS, I already told you I don't know anyone in Tampa. Hello?" Anyway, if it was one of you people, fix it. It's annoying me.

Then I got a pick-up notice for a registered parcel (I was home. Thank you for not buzzing, ass) with an untrackable number. Thank goodness it isn't really mine, but El Fano's. Still, my name is on it. Another thing annoying me.

The cat just jumped four feet in the air, straight up. I know this because all of a sudden I could see her past the four-foot high counter. Whoa.

I might meet Jon Stewart tonight. Wish me luck. This is a moment 13 years in the making, since I wrote that fan letter to Short Attention Span Theater. I'm pretty excited.

Dell Horoscope says this for tonight: Moon semisquare Uranus— 8:20 PM EST - There’s an antsy feel to this frame. Upsets rock tradition. I think any other person would read "rock" as the verb here, but as someone with a long and storied rock tradition, I'm thinking "upsets" is the verb for me, and I'm nervous. My rock tradition means good meetings with the famous. If we're upsetting that, we may have a bad time. I don't like it.

I'll let you know what happens.

she don't fade

I got an email from Ghost Alert with the subject "Ghosts Are Real." I love this.

oh it's the last time

Kiki & Herb played their last NY show tonight. They broke my heart. Someday, I'll write down what they mean to me, but not right now. There was crying. It's like when Thrush Hermit broke up, except even worse in a way, because with TH I still had all the records and a bunch of shows on tape. With Kiki I have one album, and no live shows except the 20-30 in my memory. And we all know how bad that is.

Speaking of Thrush Hermit, my first TH experience was 7 years ago this weekend. Seven years since the Joel/Johan mixup, seven years since "I think it's gonna be a good show," seven years since Boy Wonder's ill conceived cover of "I Am the Cancer," seven years since Ian lit that bass on fire, seven years since certain Sloan member imitating me pretended to make out with a pole standing in for another Sloan member, seven years since "separate the girls [points] from the boys [points]," seven years since my first Sloan roadtrip, seven years of bad luck and bad timing. Those were some days.

spike the drink with aspirin

OK, first off, that Bacardi commercial with the mannequin? I don't understand it, like at all, but I love it. I can love that which I do not understand, you see. Story of my life.

Once upon a time, I could drink a lot of drinks and always be among the last one standing (along with Kim and Sarah, I must note) and be OK and fine the next day 97 times out of 100. Then a fan fell on my head (not The Fan, a fan, a spinning, small but heavy fan) and now I have like 2 drinks and I fall down. I hate this. This, and my increasing fear/hatred of everyone ever (AKA, my burgeoning mental illness), has led to me never going out ever. And even though I was supposed to make an appearance at the birthday fiesta of a person I actually really like on Friday, and even though I ended up having no other plans (I have missed other such fiestas due mainly to busy or out-of-town-ness) I couldn't do it. Partially because I was tired and I am a lazy-assed bitch, partially because I never really know what it going to happen if I have more than one drink and partially because the place would likely be crawling with cats I haven't seen in 6 months or better, and that's just 42 too many awkward conversations. But I am a busted bitchass sucker for missing the birthday, and for that I do bleed.

Right now I am totally drunk. The plan was to make up for last night's inaction with a little bit of socializing this evening, but of course that went on the backburner. Instead we ran out to the liquor store for provisions, stayed in (shocker) and had the Caroline's-inspired Monkey Businesses (Absolut Vanilia, Malibu Rum and pineapple juice) and watched Y tu mama tambien which was lovely and delightful. Sadly, I only had three of these drinks (PS, did you know Malibu is only 40 proof?) and yet, as stated above, I am totally drunk. It is sad. Sad sad sad.

I got a new phone! It didn't come yet, but I will have it on Monday, and whoo, won't that be sweet. New number too, because I decided that although I still have 200+ business cards with the oldie, I was tired of the 347. Tired, I say! So now I have a 917 and can join the Hot Boy Posse, or something. Yep.

PS "Tetas grandes" -- this is so not a compliment.

PPS I might go to Mexico, and not only to try to find my own private Gael, but mostly to be on vacation. Ooh! Never been, you know. To Mexico. I have been on vacation.

PPPS I made a plan tonight to take a certain vacation before I was 30, and I already forget. Awesome.

PPPPS! Ooh, I remember! Ibiza. Look out, bitches. Will I be there on my own dime, or promoting my soon-to-be gay disco hit? You be the judge. Tetas Grandes is not so bad a stage name when riches, fame and Ibiza are the payoff.

PPPPPS Now where should I have my birthday this year? Because I am not going to the place I used to always go because I hate it and I shall not return. AND! I never go anywhere, so it is hard to know what my alternatives are. I was thinking maybe Trash, because I had such a nice time there that one day with that nice giant bartender and all, but that was months ago, and also involved scary levels of inebriation and The Deadly Snakes, who make everyday a fun day. See? I don't know where to go. There will be no party this year (saving myself -- and my sick, sick plans -- for 30), just a short evening out, but the location is always key. I will take seriously any generous suggestions from Greenpoint/Williamsburg/Manhattan based lovelies.

girl, you better recognize the game

A word of caution: Don't look up Sloan videos on Limewire, unless you are interested in something called CumFiesta-Sloan. I am not. I am not downloading it, either, just in case it is something I really don't want to see. With a name like CumFiesta, there really is no doubt that it isn't for me anyway, but here's hoping there's a porn star named Sloan.

In other news, I keep getting emails for the "Christian approach to debt elimination." I have no idea how a Christian, (as opposed to a non-Christian?) approaches debt elimination. I think I'm going to pray on it.

So far I hate all of the new people on "Starting Over" except Towanda, who is Toni Braxton's sister, I believe. Sleuthin', baby. You know it.

the most impassionate song to a lonely soul is so easily outgrown

Friday was awesome: no paycheck, and a final rejection from that last job. And still I rise, bitches. Well, maybe I don't rise. Although I have gotten up in the morning -- early, even -- two times since then, so yeah, I guess I do rise. How weird is it that "And Still I Rise" popped into my head? Also, that I sang the "Smurfberry Crunch is fun to eat!" jingle today (Degrassi Christmas episode has Nutcracker content, you see). There has got to be some job out there that needs these abilities. Come on.

I saw "The Motorcycle Diaries" today and I would highly recommend it. Not only because pretty Gael is such a pretty pretty, either. Oh, he is so pretty, though. I have never seen "Y tu mamá también," which is likely because I am a damn fool. You know El Fano was like, "I am buying that tomorrow!" Anyway, yes, this was an excellent movie, beauty boy aside. Now I have to see "Central Station." Same director and all.

I am having a Morrissey problem lately. This is terrible news. This is a regression that can only end in trouble. I was looking up "120 Minutes" playlists and read "My Love Life" and thought, "Ooh, see, that was a goodie." And I downloaded it, and when doing so came across a bunch of other songs to download, including "Interesting Drug" and "Lucky Lisp" and such. Man. Before he started writing things like this (see "If you're wondering why ...") some good things happened. But it's been 10 years. At least.

Anyway, yes. I'm proceeding with caution.

I had a dream that I was doing political work with Jennifer Garner (?) and Dollie kept asking her fashion advice. This is twice now that Dream Dollie has been insistent upon asking fashion advice from famous people, once when I was reluctantly making out with a rock star (this involved a bedroom fashion show, horrors) and once when I was talking activism with Jennifer Garner. I don't even watch "Alias." What are these dreams about? What I do watch though is "Rescue Me", which I'd been DVRing. I finally decided to watch one and see if it was time to erase all the episodes I'd been collecting. But I liked it! I was surprised. It is odd, because much of it is shot in Rockaway, and then they always have the T-Mobile commerical shot in Greenpoint (Shanghai Lee, that's my Chinese restaurant!) on, and it is all very odd.

OK, see, this is getting very tedious now, isn't it? Yes. It is. Goodnight!

walking the floor you keep on painting

So now Livejournal is slow and Diaryland is fast. Man, I'm glad I left those suckers behind and depend upon my own bargain-basement webhosting. That way I only have myself to blame when my page doesn't load.

Tuesday night my loveseat was carted off. I cried. Really. I am not exactly sure when I inherited him. 1999, I think. But it may have been 1998. Anyway, he was a good friend to have and I miss him. If I had lots of room, I'd have kept him forever. Wah.

Today I went to Ikea again, to get the cushions for my couch. You're never going to believe this -- they had them! Whoo. AND they had the bookshelf I wanted, the one poor Yam recently had a hell of a time putting together (but did I heed warning? Nah) although it said, "Temporarily Oversold." I never believe them. Ever. So I looked where I thought it might be anyway, and they had just unloaded a big truck of them. Haha! I outsmart you, Ikea. Watch, I will open it and it will be orange. Whatever. If it's orange, we're painting the living room. That's all.

Anyhow, most everything went well. I managed to spend $375 (awesome since I have no job still -- side note: the lovely good company I interviewed with? They suck too. I even wrote to check up if a decision had been made, as directed, and didn't hear back. Fantastic. P.S. Dr. Phil, I might be the common denominator here, but I'm not the rude insane one, thanks), and there was only one mistake. An extra Billy shelf was in the wrong spot and I stupidly didn't double check the length and got the wrong size, but it fits one my brother has, so that's OK.

Speaking of my brother, big ups to the MTB for hooking JOD up and dragging 100s of lbs of furniture up two steep flights. Holla!

say what you want about me

Only "Passions" could make a promo that's even more inappropriate than their creepy storyline.

Whitney Russell: "We've done the unspeakable! We've committed incest!"
Commercial voiceover: "A September to remember, on 'Passions' "

El Fano went to the newish Manhattan branch of a store that I love that is big in Toronto. They were playing Sloan and he and one of the salespeople starting talking Sloan shop, at which point this woman started in on a lively bit of Murphy-bashing. El Fano represented as best he could, but I might have to head over to set things straight myself.

In other news, Sloan are doing some sort of swing-state tour. Or maybe they are just hitting all the places they missed? I don't know. Ohio, Arkansas, Indiana, other places I've never been. Check it out. And then you can tell Chris Murphy yourself that you heard what an ass he is, but you didn't hear it from me. No, really. Remember, I'm the one who thinks he's great, the one who would foolishly defend his honor. It's former Torontonian shop girls who say he's a jerk. Jealous.

smoke that toothpaste taste right out of my mouth

Why would someone say "Crafting is the new rock & roll."? I was just sitting there, minding my own business, trying to read ReadyMade in peace, and that screams out at me from an ad for this book. Don't do that. Don't say such a stupid thing. Don't.

Ass.

While we were on vacation, my brother called me an ass. It is my new favorite thing to say. Along with Big Fat as a noun. "Kid-E, if I feed you everytime you ask me to, you'll turn into a Big Fat like Mommy."

Speaking of me being a Big Fat, I am getting fish and chips for dinner, and I am so excited. Fish & chips are the new weekend bender. DVR is the new heroin. Ass is the new Williamsburg. And I am the new Brett Somers.