I was on this game show in 2001 called "Smush." It was awful, but I won 4 G's. In Los Angeles,
the LA Weekly (like the Village Voice's sister) lists all these contestant opportunities in the jobs section. If you know me by now, you know I am constantly perusing these pages.
"Smush" was this idiotic show where you combine the answers to clues to come up with a cognizant answer. i.e: "comic strip character w/ Hobbes and 'Fish Called Wanda' star"
answer: Calvin Kline
What do you want? It was on the USA Network and hsted by a former MTV guy (Ken Ober).
Anyway, pre-production I told my competitors that I Don't High 5. Isn't that fucking hysterical! I was like; "No, I don't high 5." I think I 'smushed' knuckles with them(fist like).
The reason why I am bringing this up is because I have been seeing these promo's on Bravo for "Top Chef."
I do not care how giddy I might be to be on a reality show (not much; I'd just want to win) but I would never, ever, be seen doing some idiotic dance, or sitting in a gigantic kettle or looking like a complete asshole.
When i went for the second callback for this show, this ditzy blonde 'producer' told me to come back with 'a secret'...Stupid Whore.
Now, one of the contestants is like 'outing' himself in his promo. WTF does this have to do with cooking?
This show looks like the frigging bus from "Speed"...An Asian, A Pakastani, A gay, A black, A hottie guy w/ facial hair, A slutty chick, The Mad Lesbian et al.
Central Casting would have been easier.
Sometimes when you calculate something too much, it could fail.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
This is not an Entertainment Blog
Since every nitwit is into Edie these days, I will unveil my second most loved female (Tina Louise not withstanding).This movie was introduced to me by a smarmy Quebecquois (sp).
After this, I was the foriegn film cinephile.
I had every poster and postcard of "Betty Blue" (Le Matin 32).
I love that she was caught shoplifting 3 years after this movie by stuffing jewelry in her thigh high boots.
Je t'aime (sp) Beatrice Dalle.
Obsequious I can handle
Laura was this gorgeous dyed blonde (not into blondes BTW) woman/girl I met when I started working at Rafaella. This place is a staple of the West Village. Eclectic antique un-matching chairs and small dessert tables. Way before Starbucks even had a master plan, I worked at Rafaella. Great money, bad hours (shift 4pm-3 am). I was the only guy there at the time which is weird because, hey, it's a block away from Christopher Street and across from the Duplex (queens will know these landmarks).
She was kinda elfin but gorgeous in that she made me laugh my ass off and I made her chuckle, to boot. She was an origional Manhattanite (rare) and she had great taste.
When we became joined at the hip, I kind of had to wonder what the deal was. At this time, I was weighing in with bedding 12 or so girls and 15 or so guys, so I was kind of topsy-turvey.
I walked her home nightly and dealt with her boyfriend woes. When she was on bad guy number 3 I fiqured she was doing this as a wake up call to me to ask her out. She obviously had bad Gaydar. (ha)
We became like Eng and Cheng...joined at the hip. She would come in on her days off to see me, and I decided to take it to a different level.
She called me "OBSESSIVE."
I was like, I know this word, and I think I know what it means, literally, but...obsessive?
I looked it up. (I have to sidebar here and tell you that Laura was very well read...she turned me on to a lot of great classic books).
This is probably the definition I read:
1 : a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly : compelling motivation
Crestfallen (a fav. word of mine) was how I felt. I also started to sense that I am viewing the people i love with rose colored glasses.
She was kinda elfin but gorgeous in that she made me laugh my ass off and I made her chuckle, to boot. She was an origional Manhattanite (rare) and she had great taste.
When we became joined at the hip, I kind of had to wonder what the deal was. At this time, I was weighing in with bedding 12 or so girls and 15 or so guys, so I was kind of topsy-turvey.
I walked her home nightly and dealt with her boyfriend woes. When she was on bad guy number 3 I fiqured she was doing this as a wake up call to me to ask her out. She obviously had bad Gaydar. (ha)
We became like Eng and Cheng...joined at the hip. She would come in on her days off to see me, and I decided to take it to a different level.
She called me "OBSESSIVE."
I was like, I know this word, and I think I know what it means, literally, but...obsessive?
I looked it up. (I have to sidebar here and tell you that Laura was very well read...she turned me on to a lot of great classic books).
This is probably the definition I read:
1 : a persistent disturbing preoccupation with an often unreasonable idea or feeling; broadly : compelling motivation
Crestfallen (a fav. word of mine) was how I felt. I also started to sense that I am viewing the people i love with rose colored glasses.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
This is not Kansas, Doherty
So, Pete Doherty, the drug addled boyfriend of Kate Moss seems to go to more Rehabs then I go through jobs.
I recently worked with this 12 stepper, and everytime a song came on by Alice in Chains or Blind Melon; I would be like; "poor bubby" (because their singers had O'd ed) and he would respond with, "Good for em."
That's not very 12 stepper-ish.
When addicts are in this position I'm sure a thought goes though the head of the loved ones watching from the sidelines, "Just die already...you are causing us so much pain and grief." They think it but don't say it.
The Babyshambles' record company must be going broke from plopping Pete in these cushy Rehabs. I wish I could suggest St. Christophers for him. It's kind of free, or at least cheaper and he will never get a better handle on his addiction.
These cushy Rehabs for the 'rich' have plasma screen t.v.'s , fridges in the rooms, whirlpools; probably turn down service.
I called 'Promises ' when I lived in Los Angeles. I heard the rate (something astronomical like 10G's a week) and I asked if they had a kind of work (there) /rehab there like program. Un-uh.
Pete or Kate: (if your reading this...Suppressed laughter) come to NY and go to Garrison, NY. There is a train from Grand Central. One of the monks will pick you up. Cross your fingers that you get Stephanie as your counselor. You'll probably drop Kate for Jennifer(another counsel) cause she is smoking. No Pete; I know your eyes lit up when I used that euphemism. She's not actually 'smoking', she is a hotty.
When my drinking was completely out of control (liter of Vodka @ night, two years running) I just wished I had the means and money to go to a desert island and get a grip. That's what pisses me off about this "28 days" mentality. You need 90.
This is my newest script.
Since, thank God, they are not making "A Million Little Pieces" into a movie anymore; please hope that I can sell this beauty. It's called (working title) "In the Road"
Love Mickey
I recently worked with this 12 stepper, and everytime a song came on by Alice in Chains or Blind Melon; I would be like; "poor bubby" (because their singers had O'd ed) and he would respond with, "Good for em."
That's not very 12 stepper-ish.
When addicts are in this position I'm sure a thought goes though the head of the loved ones watching from the sidelines, "Just die already...you are causing us so much pain and grief." They think it but don't say it.
The Babyshambles' record company must be going broke from plopping Pete in these cushy Rehabs. I wish I could suggest St. Christophers for him. It's kind of free, or at least cheaper and he will never get a better handle on his addiction.
These cushy Rehabs for the 'rich' have plasma screen t.v.'s , fridges in the rooms, whirlpools; probably turn down service.
I called 'Promises ' when I lived in Los Angeles. I heard the rate (something astronomical like 10G's a week) and I asked if they had a kind of work (there) /rehab there like program. Un-uh.
Pete or Kate: (if your reading this...Suppressed laughter) come to NY and go to Garrison, NY. There is a train from Grand Central. One of the monks will pick you up. Cross your fingers that you get Stephanie as your counselor. You'll probably drop Kate for Jennifer(another counsel) cause she is smoking. No Pete; I know your eyes lit up when I used that euphemism. She's not actually 'smoking', she is a hotty.
When my drinking was completely out of control (liter of Vodka @ night, two years running) I just wished I had the means and money to go to a desert island and get a grip. That's what pisses me off about this "28 days" mentality. You need 90.
This is my newest script.
Since, thank God, they are not making "A Million Little Pieces" into a movie anymore; please hope that I can sell this beauty. It's called (working title) "In the Road"
Love Mickey
Tidbits in Entertainment
Pretty cool of Bravo to be airing "Six Feet Under"...One of the greatest shows ever.{ on (cable) television.} I watched Season 1 eps. 1&2 yesterday and besides the fact that they turned 'fuck' to 'frick', it really held up. It's sad, because this reminds me of the 2nd greatest job I ever had in my life; working at UTA.
These Audrey Hepburn commercials for "The Gap" seem kind of creepy to me for some reason.
There is this 'Sonic' (food chain. Like a stepdaughter to Wendy's) commercial where these two people are drinking this ghastley Strawberry Cheesecake Milkshake and the guy is going on about his blog. It's kind of funny. I hope you get to see it.
These Audrey Hepburn commercials for "The Gap" seem kind of creepy to me for some reason.
There is this 'Sonic' (food chain. Like a stepdaughter to Wendy's) commercial where these two people are drinking this ghastley Strawberry Cheesecake Milkshake and the guy is going on about his blog. It's kind of funny. I hope you get to see it.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
A Mess before Materializing
My teeth are shot.
I may have said it here or in my journal. But for any of you younger ones out there, I have one word for you...
Floss.
When the Italiano boys were young, we would have an interrupted class @ our school. It was some Dental Hygenist giving us these red pills (?) which showed where we had cavities. My teeth must have looked like I ate a box of red hots.
I believe in Gene's these days. I got every single 'BAD' gene and then some.
Hair loss...check (Moms dad...a cueball)
Homosexuality...check (Although this queen could be one of many from both sides; who was
closeted)
Alcoholism...check...not many overt ones, yet I'm sure enough to make a gen-ome
Gingivitis...check (Mom and Dads side)
When I was only 24, I had this haircutter @ Astor Place(NYC) ; telling me I was going bald. The next year, I had insurance and went to the Dentist and I was told I am losing my teeth at an alarming rate and I can not save them.
My last three teeth that came out were removed with my fingers, and hardly a drop of blood fell. It's like my teeth are just hanging in there for the sake of comfortability as if a renter has a fear to move from the apartment they live because they will never find anything better.
I have more bridges than the 5 boro's.
I went to the Dentist the other day . He took molds. I gagged like a new hooker with John Holmes. I screwed up the molds. They had to be returned. More gagging ensued and we sent it out.
Dr. ---- (ends with a stien or a berg) tells me it can not be back until Columbus Day .
I have (tried) to live these past three days without speaking to people. It's been too hard. I look hideous. It is my 3 most upfront teeth (upper) and it sucks.
Moral of this post: Floss
I may have said it here or in my journal. But for any of you younger ones out there, I have one word for you...
Floss.
When the Italiano boys were young, we would have an interrupted class @ our school. It was some Dental Hygenist giving us these red pills (?) which showed where we had cavities. My teeth must have looked like I ate a box of red hots.
I believe in Gene's these days. I got every single 'BAD' gene and then some.
Hair loss...check (Moms dad...a cueball)
Homosexuality...check (Although this queen could be one of many from both sides; who was
closeted)
Alcoholism...check...not many overt ones, yet I'm sure enough to make a gen-ome
Gingivitis...check (Mom and Dads side)
When I was only 24, I had this haircutter @ Astor Place(NYC) ; telling me I was going bald. The next year, I had insurance and went to the Dentist and I was told I am losing my teeth at an alarming rate and I can not save them.
My last three teeth that came out were removed with my fingers, and hardly a drop of blood fell. It's like my teeth are just hanging in there for the sake of comfortability as if a renter has a fear to move from the apartment they live because they will never find anything better.
I have more bridges than the 5 boro's.
I went to the Dentist the other day . He took molds. I gagged like a new hooker with John Holmes. I screwed up the molds. They had to be returned. More gagging ensued and we sent it out.
Dr. ---- (ends with a stien or a berg) tells me it can not be back until Columbus Day .
I have (tried) to live these past three days without speaking to people. It's been too hard. I look hideous. It is my 3 most upfront teeth (upper) and it sucks.
Moral of this post: Floss
PrePubescent Crushes Pt.II
This is Glynnis O'Connor. I first became aware of her when she starred with Robbie Benson in a movie called "Jeremy" and then a year or so later, in the amazing "Ode to Billie Joe." I totally loved her because of the characters she played and then her hat trick came the next year with "Boy in the Plastic Bubble."She kind of disappeared off the radar after that, at least to me.
I was thinking of her when I did the 'Robbie Douglas' post yesterday, and two hours later I was watching L&O and; she was on. (I don't get freaked out by these synchronisities anymore, I just wish I could channel the lottery #'s).
Well Glynnis looked good, and I was glad to see her getting work.
Take a vacation from Procreation
I know it's not elderly crankiness on my part. I think babies are cute and my nieces and nephews mean the world to me.
That said, I am amazed at the halcyon dazed mothers raising these brats today. If these holy terrors are not bad enough in supermarkets; throwing tantrums, opening foods and or throwing jars to exploding salsa messes on aisle 4, we now have kids on roller skating sneakers barreling down the aisles, slamming into shoppers (namely me) and not apologizing, all while their mothers stare blankly ahead and wheel their carts. The obliviousness of their satanic offsprings' destruction upon other shoppers is like a white noise to these Stepford Shop-Riters.
I've worked in instances where (either in Hotel or Restaurant work) families convened, and I would say no matter how classy or casual the establishment, the wrath of these children knows neither racial nor monetary bounds.
Tips increased when I would tell the parents how well behaved their brood was, but those words were not spurted often.
I'm not blaming the mothers, although my mom raised 4 boys while working two jobs and she did a hell of a job (in regard to manners, respect and appreciation). The absent fathers are not around because most are indulging in their own spoiled behaviors.
That said, I am amazed at the halcyon dazed mothers raising these brats today. If these holy terrors are not bad enough in supermarkets; throwing tantrums, opening foods and or throwing jars to exploding salsa messes on aisle 4, we now have kids on roller skating sneakers barreling down the aisles, slamming into shoppers (namely me) and not apologizing, all while their mothers stare blankly ahead and wheel their carts. The obliviousness of their satanic offsprings' destruction upon other shoppers is like a white noise to these Stepford Shop-Riters.
I've worked in instances where (either in Hotel or Restaurant work) families convened, and I would say no matter how classy or casual the establishment, the wrath of these children knows neither racial nor monetary bounds.
Tips increased when I would tell the parents how well behaved their brood was, but those words were not spurted often.
I'm not blaming the mothers, although my mom raised 4 boys while working two jobs and she did a hell of a job (in regard to manners, respect and appreciation). The absent fathers are not around because most are indulging in their own spoiled behaviors.
Friday, October 06, 2006
PrePubescent Loves...PartI
I had the hots for Robbie Douglas from "My Three Sons" growing up. I was kind of pissed when he married the Tina Cole character; thatshe- wolf who I believe went by the name Katie. Robbie's real name is Don Grady, and I must say; Don is keeping himself pretty well preserved. I would hate to post a recent picture of Chip or Ernie; Robbie's fictional brothers on the same show, I believe Uncle Charlie has kept himself better than the brothers Livingston, even if he is 6 feet under.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
I'm a Danish, I'm a Danish...Fuck me I'm a Danish
Like any dis-repecting homo; I almost got married. Twice!! The first was when Lisa, my Catholic respecting girlfriend missed her period the week after we had sex for the first time. She 'carried' for about 4 weeks before she mis-carried. In those 4 weeks, I already had us on a plane and me working double shifts to make it work (thanks Tim Gunn). We broke up before the yearbook came out and she dedicated her whole half page to me. Sneaky me, on the other hand decided to work for the yearbook that year and got to pull out all the sappy 'Little River Band' references.
Tora was next. Wow, she was a handful. She moaned and groaned when I would hold her hand. I was like, this can't be true. No human could be this into someone. Tora was from Denmark and I thought she only wanted a greencard.Alas, i was wrong.
I saw mis-carriage girl on the ferry about 12 years ago and she is fine, without me.
I looked up Tora on google Denmark and found her, unbelievably. She is fine. Without me.
As my friend Joyce says: Don't flatter yourself.
Tora was next. Wow, she was a handful. She moaned and groaned when I would hold her hand. I was like, this can't be true. No human could be this into someone. Tora was from Denmark and I thought she only wanted a greencard.Alas, i was wrong.
I saw mis-carriage girl on the ferry about 12 years ago and she is fine, without me.
I looked up Tora on google Denmark and found her, unbelievably. She is fine. Without me.
As my friend Joyce says: Don't flatter yourself.
Tuesday is for television
I've watched a lot of the tellie today. I hope this is not a trend.
I can not begin to exault to the fact that Brooke Sheilds is on L&O:Criminal Intent tonight. With Donofrio and Kathryn Erbe. Not the Chris Noth pseudo version.
I dig Brooke. Besides the fact that she is half Italian, and she survived by being managed by a lunatic mother; I just dig her so much.
Maybe it's because we are the same age (Keanu, Johnny Depp, et al).
Maybe it's because she prevailed after asshole Cruise's shitstorm towards her.
I can not begin to exault to the fact that Brooke Sheilds is on L&O:Criminal Intent tonight. With Donofrio and Kathryn Erbe. Not the Chris Noth pseudo version.
I dig Brooke. Besides the fact that she is half Italian, and she survived by being managed by a lunatic mother; I just dig her so much.
Maybe it's because we are the same age (Keanu, Johnny Depp, et al).
Maybe it's because she prevailed after asshole Cruise's shitstorm towards her.
Please excuse this commercial interuption
You must watch "House of Carter's."
I have no recollection of anything regarding "The Backstreet Boys" but I have to hand it to Nick Carter, besides hooking up with Paris Hilton; I'm totally digging him. He reminds me of my older brother in regards to keeping it together. This poor guy has his hands full.
Breast Cancer Update: Barbara (Babs) just called me. I text-ed her this am while I was giving up my top teeth as she was going in for her 2nd breast deal. The needle went in, and it drained. The Power of Prayer. This means she has cyst's (sounds kind of gross, I know) as oppossed to cancerous cell matter. I had tears coming down my face as she was telling me. Take two seconds to read about this woman. My age...foxy as hell. We kind of clicked with the angel world in a conversation. So, she baught this book last week and I'm sure it was to assuage her uneasy feelings of the breast thing. She calls me two hours later. "Listen"..."I just baught this book and I'm turning down basically every page because I'm reminded of you..."
There are great people in this world.
I have no recollection of anything regarding "The Backstreet Boys" but I have to hand it to Nick Carter, besides hooking up with Paris Hilton; I'm totally digging him. He reminds me of my older brother in regards to keeping it together. This poor guy has his hands full.
Breast Cancer Update: Barbara (Babs) just called me. I text-ed her this am while I was giving up my top teeth as she was going in for her 2nd breast deal. The needle went in, and it drained. The Power of Prayer. This means she has cyst's (sounds kind of gross, I know) as oppossed to cancerous cell matter. I had tears coming down my face as she was telling me. Take two seconds to read about this woman. My age...foxy as hell. We kind of clicked with the angel world in a conversation. So, she baught this book last week and I'm sure it was to assuage her uneasy feelings of the breast thing. She calls me two hours later. "Listen"..."I just baught this book and I'm turning down basically every page because I'm reminded of you..."
There are great people in this world.
Heartbreaking
Please watch "Child Star Confidential" on E! if you get the chance.
Besides this, the other morning I woke up at like 6am and there was a show on A&E about child stars. It was like a round table with child stars ranging from 20-70. It was so riveting. Kim Fields (Tootie-"Facts of Life") really stole my heart.
I have to be home today because of some dental work.
E! was on in the dentists' office with this show.
I know we are all tragic, but it is kind of soothing when you hear of someone with beacoup bucks going through the same thing.
I never watched 'Baywatch' , but the kid who was Hasslehoff's son on the show was FUCKED up.
As per Los Angeles, Crystal Meth made him a mess. Jeremy Jackson is his name, and actually, he's kind of hunky.
Besides this, the other morning I woke up at like 6am and there was a show on A&E about child stars. It was like a round table with child stars ranging from 20-70. It was so riveting. Kim Fields (Tootie-"Facts of Life") really stole my heart.
I have to be home today because of some dental work.
E! was on in the dentists' office with this show.
I know we are all tragic, but it is kind of soothing when you hear of someone with beacoup bucks going through the same thing.
I never watched 'Baywatch' , but the kid who was Hasslehoff's son on the show was FUCKED up.
As per Los Angeles, Crystal Meth made him a mess. Jeremy Jackson is his name, and actually, he's kind of hunky.
Monday, October 02, 2006
The Comfort of Strangers
Rupert Everett has this new book coming out, "Red Carpets and other Banana Skins." And like most Brits, he is really introspective and on spot.
Here is an excerpt:
"Now no one wants me. Being gay and being a woman has one big thing in common, which is that we both become invisible after the age of 42. Who wants a gay 50- year-old? No one, let me tell you. I could set myself on fire in a gay bar, and people would just light their cigarettes from me. I don't want to be carried out of a club wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and a cap on the wrong way around when I am 70, but I would like to settle down a bit. Maybe with a partner. In some ways I do feel more settled, but now I want to take part in things."
Man, this is so true. I have basically come to the conclusion that I will sleep alone for the rest of my life. I saw a clip from the Janice Dickenson show and she was in Palm Springs for the 'white' or 'black' party and their were these 90 year olds in speedo's and/or thongs. It frigging made me ashamed. It's like the Iranian in the office who everyone else in the office feels the whole country of Iran is her nieces and nephews and she feels the guilt when something Iranian is mentioned.
I have the worst personal ad. I am like no Rap, no R&B, no Clubbing, no Meth, no Poppers, no 3 ways, no Name Dropping...et al
I am never going to be the older guy with the A&F t-shirt and the baseball cap on angled. I'm sure this guy gets laid, as well. It's kind of like my roommate in college who would be like, "Yeah, I got laid last night" and I would think to myself, "Yeah, you hit on over 75 girls, it was bound to happen."
I'm an asshole. I know. I'm opinionated and kind of stand off-ish. But, I still soberly cry at "The Gilmore Girls" every day, and for that, I am kinda faggy.
Here is an excerpt:
"Now no one wants me. Being gay and being a woman has one big thing in common, which is that we both become invisible after the age of 42. Who wants a gay 50- year-old? No one, let me tell you. I could set myself on fire in a gay bar, and people would just light their cigarettes from me. I don't want to be carried out of a club wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and a cap on the wrong way around when I am 70, but I would like to settle down a bit. Maybe with a partner. In some ways I do feel more settled, but now I want to take part in things."
Man, this is so true. I have basically come to the conclusion that I will sleep alone for the rest of my life. I saw a clip from the Janice Dickenson show and she was in Palm Springs for the 'white' or 'black' party and their were these 90 year olds in speedo's and/or thongs. It frigging made me ashamed. It's like the Iranian in the office who everyone else in the office feels the whole country of Iran is her nieces and nephews and she feels the guilt when something Iranian is mentioned.
I have the worst personal ad. I am like no Rap, no R&B, no Clubbing, no Meth, no Poppers, no 3 ways, no Name Dropping...et al
I am never going to be the older guy with the A&F t-shirt and the baseball cap on angled. I'm sure this guy gets laid, as well. It's kind of like my roommate in college who would be like, "Yeah, I got laid last night" and I would think to myself, "Yeah, you hit on over 75 girls, it was bound to happen."
I'm an asshole. I know. I'm opinionated and kind of stand off-ish. But, I still soberly cry at "The Gilmore Girls" every day, and for that, I am kinda faggy.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Nino Garcia
First of all, (back pats are accepted) I discovered Project Runway. I think the first episode of the first season it was myself and Seal watching. That said; I wanna tell you guys a story from the mickeyitaliano vault.
I was 6 or so, when neighbors started moving into my block. My uncle built all the houses, so we got first dibs and we were solo on Barlow for a while. My older brother soon found friends but I had no one my age except for two girls (separate families) who were a year older. The three years separating me and my brother at that time were like decades, so to hang with him was not going to happen.
So, I hung with Elaine and Carol Ann (and soon to come Denise). We played jump rope, hopscotch and Barbie's. I did have a GI Joe but, frig, he never came with a change of clothes! I soon became enamored with Barbie's house and Camper and her wardrobe. She had so many looks, while GI Joe still had his stinky Camo's on.
We had a room downstairs which we called the 'little room.' It contained all our toys, some Samsonite luggage and my mothers' Singer sewing machine, which by the looks of it, was the original prototype. Instead of a rubber type belt, the belt was leather. It had this foot petal that was similar to a metal shoe and the needles were a crochet club's nitemare...thick and revolving at MPH.
I started to really want a Barbie. I wanted to change her clothes. I asked for one and after the beating from the 'donor', I came to find out that boys do not play with those kinds of dolls.
More crafty than hurt, I told Carol Ann, Elaine and now Denise that my Grandma, (who, God Bless her Soul was a phenomenal sewist) was going to make their Barbie's a whole new wardrobe. They each gave me a Barbie for measurements. The 'collection' would be forthcoming.
I had seen my mother with patterns on the dining room table (hence: the matching Easter Outfits of 1966) and while playing with my bald playschool people in the little room, her sewing voraciously.
I could do this.
From scraps of fabric and odds and ends around the house, I set forth to create a 'collection.'
I'm laughing my ass off, because I just remembered how I fucked up that strong ass needle when I decided to sew a skirt made from the netting of the "wedding gift stinky almonds."
It was downhill from there. The girls were getting impatient. They were besmirching my grandmother's talents. I told them she had taken to hospital, and returned their Barbie's, who were now, non virginal and bi.
Fast forward. I was a senior in High School and in Art Class we had a selection of finals. One, was to make a fashion collection. I went with my strengths and even though I was not thought to be 'swishy', at all, I did this.
The girls in my class, some of whom were on their way to F.I.T. were so excited by my work, telling me I should definitely go into fashion design. Theresa Minnucci actually took one of my sketches for a gown(?) and entered it into her book for her interviewA Parsons or F.I.T..
I hope Laura wins.
I was 6 or so, when neighbors started moving into my block. My uncle built all the houses, so we got first dibs and we were solo on Barlow for a while. My older brother soon found friends but I had no one my age except for two girls (separate families) who were a year older. The three years separating me and my brother at that time were like decades, so to hang with him was not going to happen.
So, I hung with Elaine and Carol Ann (and soon to come Denise). We played jump rope, hopscotch and Barbie's. I did have a GI Joe but, frig, he never came with a change of clothes! I soon became enamored with Barbie's house and Camper and her wardrobe. She had so many looks, while GI Joe still had his stinky Camo's on.
We had a room downstairs which we called the 'little room.' It contained all our toys, some Samsonite luggage and my mothers' Singer sewing machine, which by the looks of it, was the original prototype. Instead of a rubber type belt, the belt was leather. It had this foot petal that was similar to a metal shoe and the needles were a crochet club's nitemare...thick and revolving at MPH.
I started to really want a Barbie. I wanted to change her clothes. I asked for one and after the beating from the 'donor', I came to find out that boys do not play with those kinds of dolls.
More crafty than hurt, I told Carol Ann, Elaine and now Denise that my Grandma, (who, God Bless her Soul was a phenomenal sewist) was going to make their Barbie's a whole new wardrobe. They each gave me a Barbie for measurements. The 'collection' would be forthcoming.
I had seen my mother with patterns on the dining room table (hence: the matching Easter Outfits of 1966) and while playing with my bald playschool people in the little room, her sewing voraciously.
I could do this.
From scraps of fabric and odds and ends around the house, I set forth to create a 'collection.'
I'm laughing my ass off, because I just remembered how I fucked up that strong ass needle when I decided to sew a skirt made from the netting of the "wedding gift stinky almonds."
It was downhill from there. The girls were getting impatient. They were besmirching my grandmother's talents. I told them she had taken to hospital, and returned their Barbie's, who were now, non virginal and bi.
Fast forward. I was a senior in High School and in Art Class we had a selection of finals. One, was to make a fashion collection. I went with my strengths and even though I was not thought to be 'swishy', at all, I did this.
The girls in my class, some of whom were on their way to F.I.T. were so excited by my work, telling me I should definitely go into fashion design. Theresa Minnucci actually took one of my sketches for a gown(?) and entered it into her book for her interviewA Parsons or F.I.T..
I hope Laura wins.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Preverbial shit; hitting fan
Last week was a wake up call to my whining. In rehab they have this saying; "Get off the pity pot."
So, sans tooth; I will fill you in.
Every highlighted name is someone in my circle. My circle consists of 4 great friends and my family.
Yolanda (my sis in law) has to go back for a second mammography.
Barbara (aka Babs) has to have her breasts "needled" (I do not know the correct term for this procedure.) If liquid comes out of the lumps, that's good (a cyst). No liquid = biopsy.
Carol's (pic. of her and me in April archives) Mom has discovered spots on both lungs.
Donna (my truest love; mother of three with a dickhead husband whom she kicked out; friends 25 years) has been having these brain spasms and she had to wear a cap with electrodes for a full day after an unsuccessful EKG. No tentative diagnosis was determined. Script given for iron supplements and spasms continue.
I could put a colon and right hand parenthesis and make a sad face after each of these statements but that would belittle the situation. And here I am bitching and moaning about losing a tooth for a week. I absolutely love these women. They all are my age, and reality is kicking in.
I honestly do not fear death. The only thing I fear about it is not having enough coverage for my funeral and sticking the bill on someone.
That said. I fear for everyone else's health. I'm selfish that way.
I pray for these peoples positive outcomes and I get distracted too easily. I need the monastic environs of my rehab upstate. I pray on the train and get distracted. I pray in my bed (when I wake intermittently at 3 and 4 am) and get distracted from the white noise of the running t.v. in the background.
I just hope that God knows, these persons' outcomes are a gigantic heaviness on my heart.
So, sans tooth; I will fill you in.
Every highlighted name is someone in my circle. My circle consists of 4 great friends and my family.
Yolanda (my sis in law) has to go back for a second mammography.
Barbara (aka Babs) has to have her breasts "needled" (I do not know the correct term for this procedure.) If liquid comes out of the lumps, that's good (a cyst). No liquid = biopsy.
Carol's (pic. of her and me in April archives) Mom has discovered spots on both lungs.
Donna (my truest love; mother of three with a dickhead husband whom she kicked out; friends 25 years) has been having these brain spasms and she had to wear a cap with electrodes for a full day after an unsuccessful EKG. No tentative diagnosis was determined. Script given for iron supplements and spasms continue.
I could put a colon and right hand parenthesis and make a sad face after each of these statements but that would belittle the situation. And here I am bitching and moaning about losing a tooth for a week. I absolutely love these women. They all are my age, and reality is kicking in.
I honestly do not fear death. The only thing I fear about it is not having enough coverage for my funeral and sticking the bill on someone.
That said. I fear for everyone else's health. I'm selfish that way.
I pray for these peoples positive outcomes and I get distracted too easily. I need the monastic environs of my rehab upstate. I pray on the train and get distracted. I pray in my bed (when I wake intermittently at 3 and 4 am) and get distracted from the white noise of the running t.v. in the background.
I just hope that God knows, these persons' outcomes are a gigantic heaviness on my heart.
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