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Archive | April, 2002

Names for men

11 Apr

Names for men

Owlie and I nickname people. That in itself doesn’t seem too strange, but it is a bit dumb that even when we know these people, we refer to them by their code names. Additionally ridiculous: with the exception of one female, we do not code-name girls and women. Here is a partial list of this year’s nicknames.

diesel boy: more of a man, really, but this sounds better. has shaggy hair and really does look like he should be wearing overpriced denim. no relation to lame-o pop-punk band of same name.

tuxedo boy: wears tuxedos around town. is charming in an oddball way, like me, and disarmingly beautiful, unlike me.

pigpen: the tenant in our apartment who hasn’t moved his schtuff out. he is the biggest slob on the planet, with a nest full of hippy shit and uncleaned cat litter boxes.

the (un)happy little elf: boy who looks like an extra in lord of the rings; is misanthropic and hard to read.

gary sinise: big-time flirt who really does look like the actor. miles and max fischer have said that gary sinise looks like a tool. their words, not mine.

max fischer: our friend looks eerily like the star of rushmore. he is such a nice boy.

teach: crazy guy who danced on chic-a-go-go with us. he was a loud and nutty hip-hop type, waving his hands in the air like he just didn’t care. his accomplices in dancing were two or three pre-teenage boys who turned out to be his students. after the taping completed, teach removed his fubu and began talking with friends about that night’s town and country show.

foxy mcfoxerson: also mentioned here more than a few times. we are friends now, and that makes me happy. he is one of the few people aware of his nickname, and for a while he thought i had renamed him captain assclown. no, silly foxy! that was just a temporary thing.

whitelegs the pirate: i could never remember this kid’s name. all i could remember was that he attended a chic-a-go-go taping and had legs even whiter than mine. he rides a vespa, apparently.

edward norton tootie: owlie says he looks like her friend tootie; i say he looks like edward norton. this is really all i know of him.

tre cool: i have not actually met this gentleman, but owlie has. she says he really is tres cool.

rapscallion: i had a huge huge huge crush on him, but he kinda did what the next bloke did…

jfk/mr. president: takes me on a date in which we have a lovely time, says he’s glad we went out, and never calls again.

gramps: treats me as though i am twelve. regards me as his little sister, which is kind of sweet but also patronizing.

the fake evan: this is the guy who is on the rainbo calendars almost every year. he always looks a little bit like evan, what with the glasses and all, but he’s not! he’s the fake evan!

I think I smell all right

11 Apr

Owls McGee and I watched the marvelous On The Line last night. If you don’t know what this film is, rent it right away. It stars Lance Bass and Joey Fatone of pop supergroup N’Sync. Basically, Lance is a shy 24-year-old ad man who meets a girl on the El, doesn’t ask for her number, and does the whole Missed Connection thing. Fat One plays his farting friend who fronts a hair metal rock band. The movie is worth renting if only to witness the excellent intersection of literalism and figuratism: Fat One wailing “Pour Some Sugar On Me” while actually pouring sugar on himself.

– – –

Up until this very minute, I would listen to the White Stripes and think that they were singing “I think I smell all riiiight” instead of “I think I smell a rat.” I like my version better.

Sixty-eight and sunny

9 Apr

So I was walking down Second Avenue yesterday, looking pretty fly if I do say so myself (it’s all because of my new forest green pants, with an embroidered birdy on the yoke). I was in a good mood because I was about to see Brian, who has been mentioned here before as the world’s perfect boy. Around 18th Street, guess who I saw?

My shaggy-haired boyfriend!

You know, Julian Casablancas of The Strokes!

Despite feeling unstoppably asstastic in my pants, I did not stop to say hello to Julian. He was sipping coffee on a stoop… with another woman! Oh, Julian, say it isn’t so.

– – –

Brian and I walked all around yesterday. After eating the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had (“Lots of cream and melted chocolate,” said the barista), we walked forty blocks north and took in some modern art.

Met Todd at Max Fish, and later went to dinner (goat cheese quesadillas!) with dear Ophi-ra and Todd’s crazy optometrist. They were headed off to the White Stripes show, and though we tried to sneak a plus-one for me, there was to be no rockin’ that night.

As for now, it is mild and balmy and time to explore even more. I love this city.

On homophobia

1 Apr

I am a fairly tolerant person, or at least I am becoming more accepting of differences. For instance, my former rule of never dating a smoker again has been broken, and though I don’t like smoking at all, it doesn’t mean that I don’t like the person.

However, I am an intolerant person when it comes to ugly things like homophobic comments. Is this the fortnight of slurs or something? Why was I not told about this? Two of my guy friends have recently thrown “fag” around like it was a wiffle ball. One of them tossed in “lesbo” to be an equal opportunity asshole. When I said, “I don’t like those words,” the reply was, “You should know I’m just pushing people’s buttons.” When I countered that those words are not funny and are inappropriate, I was told to relax.

Oh, relax!

I plan to do no such thing when these people whip out “fag” or “dyke” and then excuse it by saying, “Oh come on, I have gay friends.” Yeah, well, so do I, and guess what? They don’t like being called fags and dykes. Besides, having gay friends isn’t a license for heterosexual guys to use slurs. Inevitably when I gently bring this up, I am told that I am “too PC.” That’s a shallow argument that reduces the issue to one of “is not/are too.”

Homophobia is one of the ugliest things I hate, mostly because it’s a fear and hatred of love. So you can bet I’ll keep yapping my PC mouth, from here till pink angles try…

A play starring my mom

1 Apr

My parents came to town for a few hours yesterday. We had brunch at Ann Sather with Jen, Drew, and Traci. My mother fumed at my father because he had cat hair on the sweater. My father removed himself from all conversation not related to basketball. Mumsy kept calling Traci “Terri” for some reason, and she succeeded in embarrassing me greatly toward the end of our meal.

– – –


MOM: Have you heard about Annie’s crushes?!

JEN: Well, some—

MOM, interrupting: Well! On Monday she’s going to a concert with [established crush]. Now, you know Annie and how she gets nervous and overanalyzes things…

EVERYONE ELSE AT TABLE: Ha ha ha! No, you don’t say! Chortle chortle!

MOM: …but I think she should be confident with this one, because they have a lot in common. Now, she had told me about him last time I visited, and we saw him and I asked him about Fugazi—you know how she likes to tease me about me liking them—but she seemed convinced that he didn’t know she was alive.

ANNIE (mumbles): Moth-errr.

MOM: Well, I say he was just a little shy! So I put a Mom Hex on him! I just knew it would work! She has nothing to worry about. Now, have you heard about Whoa? Let me tell you about Whoa…

ANNIE: (crawls underneath table, dies)