This Thursday: "A Good Prosthesis"

September 27, 2006

Come to the Cornelia St. Cafe this Thursday evening. I’ll be reading a short story about my sixteenth birthday, involving a transvestite relative and a prosthetic limb.

SNAPPY FICTION!
hosted by Karen Heuler
Cornelia St. Cafe
29 Cornelia St.
212-989-9319
Thursday, Sept. 28th
6:00PM

$6 cover includes one house drink.

Quick tales about false legs, false hopes, nasty food, and love without a clue. Karen Heuler hosts a reading of stories fast enough and short enough to keep your synapses flaring. Featuring fiction by Jennifer Dziura, John Gorman, Margot Landau, and Jennifer Sears.

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Two Uncomfortable Encounters with Asian Street Vendors

September 26, 2006

Today, I was in Queens and a street vendor was selling CDs. She was playing one on a boom box, and I really liked it. Just some piano music. I like piano music, but I don’t know enough about it to really shop for it. I picked up the CD, asked for the price, and opened my purse to pay when all the sudden the music on the boom box got really, really cheesy — like, “theme from Disney cartoon mermaid movie” kind of cheesy.

I didn’t really want the CD anymore (I immediately imagined holding a dinner party in which I serve a flourless torte and then the soundtrack turns to “Under the Sea”), so I rifled through my purse and pretended I didn’t have enough cash. (Well, what would you have done? “Sorry, this CD sucks now”?)

In the second case, a lady in Herald Square was doing caricatures for $5. I know it’s totally touristy to stop on the street and have your portrait drawn, but I was feeling whimsical, and $5 seemed like a bargain (and, quite frankly, I knew I’d get a blog post out of it). In under ten minutes, this was produced:


I don’t think it looks like me, but I do think it looks kind of like Elaine from Seinfeld.

I was, however, fine with paying $5 and going my merry way. The artist, however, informed me that charcoal “goes everywhere” and that I really should buy a frame, which she would sell me for $10. She presumptively went about trying to frame the drawing, while I told her (quite assertively, compared to the CD encouter) that I didn’t want the frame. She lowered the price, but I held firm and told her she was getting $5 or I was walking away. She rolled the drawing up for me, grumpily.

Charcoal does, in fact, “go everywhere,” including on my scanner.

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autothin

September 26, 2006

This is old news in blogland, but HP has released a camera with an automatic “slimming” feature.


What amazing technology! (Not really). I’d be more impressed by a camera that gave everyone bigger boobs, or erased five-o’clock shadow, or — perhaps, for closeted homosexuals — changed your spouse’s gender with the click of a button.

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small-change coincidence

September 23, 2006

Weirdly, the day after posting this, I went to Mudspot and asked for a small coffee, and the guy behind the counter said “We only have one size. Would you like half?”

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it’s not fat-hating if it’s facetious …. right?

September 22, 2006

Whoa. Gawker’s t-shirts are back, and “they now come in even bigger sizes to adequately cover your various unsightly protuberances. Of course, they still run small, so don’t think we can accommodate just any ol’ lardo who comes along.”

Err…

The phrase “unsightly protuberances” reminded me instantly of…

“my humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps”

…which always reminds me of getting checked
for mumps at the doctor’s office as a kid.

Incidentally, “my lovely little boy lumps”
just sounds very, very wrong.

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I’ve been indexed

September 22, 2006

I received my contributor’s copy of The Idiot’s Guide to Jokes in the mail today (and Penguin is getting paid for it with this blog post riiiight here), and it turns out I’m in the book five times. Here’s my entry in the index:

Yep, that pretty much sums up my act.

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tomato, to-MAH-to, Truvada, Tru … nevermind

September 22, 2006

Okay, I already have TWO jokes in my act about the very specific topic of “HIV drugs as advertised on the subway,” but I just saw ad an for Truvada that defies belief.

The ad features an attractive, bald, genial-looking black man standing in front of his motor scooter.


The full text reads:

You worked hard to get where you are.
So why settle for an HIV med that’s twice-a-day?
Er … you worked hard to get where you are? Down the yellow-brick HIV road? I know I have trouble setting priorities, but that’s ridiculous.

And, come on, if you have a life-threatening illness, GOD FORBID that you should have to take TWO ENTIRE PILLS A DAY! Jesus, what if someone told you to exercise and eat better?

What, it takes five seconds and might save my life?
Balderdash! I’d rather shoot up with a dirty needle.

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sister, can you spare a dime?

September 22, 2006

This evening I had two unusual encounters both involving very small amounts of money.

First, at the Wildgreen Cafe at 88th and 3rd, a nicely-dressed lady came in and tried to buy a half a cup of coffee. When the man behind the counter held up the smallest size and told her, well … that it was the smallest size, she asked how much, and he said $1.10, and she looked disgusted and walked out. She didn’t look like she was hurting for fifty-five cents, either.

Even though she didn’t look needy, I was actually considering offering to split a cup of coffee with her, assuming that the guy behind the counter would agree to put it in two separate cups. Unfortunately for her, this bitch had a poor attitude, so I didn’t say anything.

The second strange encounter was at Staples, where I was making copies. Kinkos, you see, is home to the sorts of people who briskly make their copies and otherwise keep to themselves; Staples, being a cent or two cheaper per copy, attracts people who haven’t seen a copy machine since 1966, as well as people who don’t have credit cards and have never had the need to make a copy before because they are not accustomed to processing words on paper.

An old lady came in and wanted to know where to put the change. Someone else explained that you have to use a credit card, or go buy a copy card. She wanted to know if you can put just a dollar on the card. I turned around. She was carrying just one piece of paper. I asked “Do you have just one copy to make?” She did. The original had one word on it, a last name. She wanted to blow it up “as big as possible.” It took me several tries to accomplish this (when enlarging by 400%, this copier enlarges whatever is in the upper righthand corner). She kept saying “I’ll give you eight cents!” In the end, she gave me fifty cents, and thanked me twice.

I can only wonder what xeroxed heraldic heirloom craft project her grandchildren are going to be receiving.

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come to my window, I’ll be home soon

September 21, 2006

I was on tour for three weeks, and I’m disappointed that hotels don’t have real keys anymore — they all have those plastic cards that are programmed for your room.

The hotels don’t even want the cards back since the cards expire automatically, so over a three-week tour, I collected a big stack. (Four Ramadas and a Best Western — is that a good poker hand?)

I think handing someone your expired key card could become the ‘giving out a bogus phone number’ of our generation.


Oh, yeah, you want to see me tonight?
Here’s my card. Come to my room
… in Fayetteville … last April.

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I like this picture because it looks like my legs are made of STEEL ALLOY

September 20, 2006

I want to give a huge shout-out* to Chicks & Giggles (and impresarias Carolyn and Nichelle) for having me on the show last night.

After getting the light unexpectedly, I jam-packed The History of Western Philosophy in 90 Seconds into 60 seconds, but I did not at all omit Plato or Kant, as sometimes happens when I’m in a rush.

I’d also like to give a huge shout-out to Bust magazine, which sent a reporter and photographer to cover the show. Bust.com is where I ordered my Wonder Woman underpants!

(Happy birthday to Cheryl B.! Hi, Winnie! I like your girlie-mullet!)

* Longtime readers of this blog will remember my mother’s “I thought Shout-Out was a stain remover.”

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Survivor: Ultimate Edition!

September 18, 2006

An article on Salon by Heather Havrilesky about the current season of Survivor, in which teams are broken down by race, contains this hilarious account of the depravity of European-Americans:

A member of the white tribe steals a chicken from a member of the Asian tribe, and is unrepentant, saying later, “I saw a chicken, I grabbed a chicken, because the chicken was free.” Upon arriving on their island, the white tribe members congratulate one another on “kicking ass” and grabbing so much good stuff so quickly. Later, while chatting about her nickname, one of the tribe members accidentally sets both of the two chickens free. The tribe members chase the chickens, but can’t catch them, and the guy who stole the chickens is extremely angry. Later that night, the first night on the island, two of the cute young people, Adam and Candace, cuddle…. Is this really “Survivor,” or some kind of ominous fable depicting the rise and fall of Western civilization?    

Apparently, Survivor has engaged in similar demographic hijinks in the past, like separating people by age or gender. You know what I’d like to see?

 Survivor: Democrats vs. Republicans!

Episode 1:The Republican team attempts to annex the entire island in the name of Manifest Destiny (and Jesus). Someone immediately begins drilling for oil. The Republican women submit dutifully to the men, except the strident blonde one, who loudly proclaims that everyone on the Democratic side of the island rapes babies. When host Jeff Probst points out that the Democratic team has no babies, she sharpens a stick with her serpent-teeth and writes SLANDER: Lies from the Democratic Side of the Island, Which by the Way is Full of Baby Rapists Who also LOVE TERRORISM. Two male members of the Republican team build a “log cabin” and are promptly ostracized by the rest of the group, until it comes time to vote.

The Democratic team promptly breaks down into oppressed minority groups, each with its own coalition. A debate ensues over whether to found a coalition for transgendered group members, even though no one in the group is transgendered. The deaf lesbian declares the area between the river and the westmost coconut tree to be a “safe space for women.” A debate ensues over whether, were the transgendered coalition to gain any members, those members would be welcome in the safe space for women. The discussion breaks down in the absence of a sign language interpreter, at which point the Democrats realize they are late for a Challenge against the Republican team. They promptly lose, while nevertheless agreeing that they are, once again, oppressed. Returning to their side of the island, the Democrats use palm fronds to build primitive computers and huddle together to develop their “netroots strategy.”

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seen today in Flushing, Queens

September 17, 2006

Woman of nondescript national/ethnic/religious background wearing a t-shirt that said “My god can kick your god’s butt.” Um, could you please put on a headscarf … or a mantilla … or a rosary … or a yarmulke … or something that would tell us what the hell you’re talking about?

Also spotted: “In-Soon Salon.” Does that mean they take walk-ins, or does “In-Soon” mean something in Korean?

And finally: “Kim & You Law Firm.” I know “You” is someone’s name, but instead the law firm comes out sounding like some kind of Fischer-Price Legal Playset.

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September 15, 2006

I was wondering if there might exist an alternative to the Wet T-Shirt Contest for women who have great asses.


Then I thought, hmmn, a “Wet Panties Contest” doesn’t have exactly the same connotation.

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a hard day’s brisket

September 15, 2006

At Pick-a-Bagel on 77th and Lex, there’s a vegetarian panini on the menu called the “Meatles” (missing an “s”).

I know what it means, but it made me think of some kind of British-Invasion tribute band made out of meat puppets.

     

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Overheard by Jenisfamous

September 15, 2006

Last night I attended the grand opening of Comix, the meatpacking district’s new comedy club, and saw performances by Kathy Griffin and David Spade from a table not more than fifteen feet away! (Also, oddly, I received a gift bag containing Comix-branded surgical scrubs — anyone know why these exist in the first place?)

While waiting outside (in line, like everyone else), I overheard this:

Short, round man trying to skip the line: Is there a press list?

Effeminate, black-clad bouncer: Are you, like, covering the event or attending it? Are you red-carpet?

Short, round man trying to skip the line: Um, I write a blog….

Effeminate, black-clad bouncer: You have to go to the back of the line.

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