Talk about philosophy, thinking about porn

This is the way it goes: not hot enough for metal, not cool enough for alternative and I haven't given up on life enough for emo. Oh, aren't we all in a bind.

Never really thought of myself as an artist; a mere dabbler, as they say. I recently tried to work on a painting. Oh, it's always so much better in our heads. What comes out on the canvas? That's another story. Sorry, I'm quite tired.

So... my train of thought has been derailed. No funny pictures; no witty comments.

Just raw, uncut Le Fig.


Back again riding the ferry, may I just say "voyage of the damned"? Why does the drug addict, the woman with 10 kids, the really loud woman, the wino and the shitty teenager have to sit next to me? I must have done something really bad in a past life. If I have learned anything about public transportation, it's keep your head down and always look busy.

No, This is a real photo.

It's okay, it will all be over soon.

See a bunny, beware

The photo in my last Blog reminds me of this story from when I was a kid.

This comic book,about a bunch of kids who sadistically love to bites the heads off their chocolate bunnies. Somehow, they are invited to this Willy Wonka candy factory. It's owned by this 6 foot 8 bunny in a brightly colored suit (don't ask, I was 9). The gist is the hapless children are dipped in vats of chocolate and what happens?

He bites their heads off. Yes, it was predictable and silly but hey, it scared me. And any time I saw a mascot, I would break out in a cold sweat.

First Day of Spring

First day of Spring. And Sunday's... Easter! Bunnies are a hoppin' and Christ's a risin'.

Short, Sweet

Notes from Liz: not short, but always sweet.

I use the computer now more than I ever have. Now I understand the addiction to email; there's nothing worse than waiting for that important message. Did I get it? Did I
accidentally delete it? Could it be the message I've been waiting for? I've turned into a 14 year old girl waiting by the phone (gimme back my Duran Duran poster).

Years ago, I tried a chat room. Struck me as a bunch of teenage and mid-twenties douches trying to one up each other. Sorry, I have better things to do. Like what you ask? Maybe I'll watch a marathon of documentaries about crystal meth. There, I can find out how people buy the products on line, cook it up at home in their lovely double-wide trailers and proceed to sell and or smoke it all. At that point, you sit in your hole, surrounded by beer cans, porn, pizza boxes and the smell of rotted teeth. As you probably can tell, I watch too much of the Discovery Channel. Yes, I know far too much about bikers, speed and meth mouth.

Speaking of rotted teeth and public intoxication, I saw The Pogues on Sat. I must say they put on quite a good show, The band sounded great. Shane was, well, Shane, and the audience didn't try to use me as a battering ram or vomit on me. All in all, a good time.

A girl walks into a Starbucks and...

No, not a joke; I go to Starbucks, order my usual latte (skim milk/one sugar, thanks for asking);
sit down, waiting to savor my $3.47 goodness when in walks a fellow. He is obviously a
member of the Nation of Islam (hat, bow tie; carrying a bag full of their newspaper, "Muhammad Speaks"). The gentleman sits down at my table with his Venti coffee--black, of course, and one by one, empties 16 packets of sugar into it (it was "Sugar In The Raw", non bleached--not Domino's, that imperialist, white as snow sugar, just so you know).

I was sorely tempted to ask him, "hey, would you like a little coffee with your sugar?"and guffaw but something told me he wasn't the LOL type.


No sadly, he didn't say anything; I was kinda hoping he would say something like "how does it feel to be the cause of all the wickedness in the world, white devil?", but the minute another seat became empty, he quickly fled.

Gotta admit a great set up for a joke: A Jew and a 5 Percenter walk into a Starbucks and...

You must think better of me

Oh, joy--another day, another blog.

Is it just me or are you sick of seeing Bill and Hillary Clinton? I just can't bear the thought of another four years of their schtick.  Before you think I'm a Republican, think again- Total Liberal.  It's just the whole Clinton act of playing good cop, bad cop. She opens her mouth; says something dumb, then gets teary eyed and says she's being picked on. He says (or does something) stupid and blames it on a vast right wing conspiracy. Oh, joy; it's like the '90's all over again,  except I don't have acne and I have an apartment. The election cycle is one dog and pony show that I wish I could avoid, altogether. Sorry, I am feeling a little fatigue.

Speaking of polling:
My ratings are down on http://www.humorblog.com/; this must be remedied, my minions.
Return your beloved Clementine to her former glory.

The stranger in my life

So here we go again.

A new tale of an author who wrote a "personal memoir", only later discovered to be fraud.

Margaret B. Jones' story of a young white/American Indian girl's life in foster care, complete with drugs, guns and gangs. Only problem, she's from a nice family and went to private school(sorry not the Bloods/Crips Academy for girls). See, apparently she knew people in this environment and wanted to speak for them. Ah, the old "giving a voice to the disenfranchised" excuse. Then how about writing about them and not making up a story? Novel concept.

I honestly don't know how people get away with this. In the internet age, nothing is private; any little thing about you will come out. Are these people delusional? Ever heard of www.smokinggun.com? Recently, a woman named Misha Defonseca, was found to have lied about her book, "Misha", a Holocaust memoir. How do you lie about being in a death camp? I know everyone wants to have their book published, but the Holocaust? How about I was a teen during the rise of the Nazis and was really unhappy? It's harder to prove it didn't happen; people can relate to your story and hey, if you do meet up with actual survivors there's none of that awkwardness, trying to relate to their story.

My personal fave was that doyenne of the book world, James Frey. His "Million Little Lies" was on the best seller lists and had that old Oprah stamp of approval. Until it turned out the story wasn't true--OOPS! Since I couldn't stand his whole smug approach to it all; his "yeah, I was an addict, I was in jail, I'm tough, I'll go to the dentist and not take any pain medication, I beat this thing on my own, go hard or go home" attitude. It was such a funny sight to see him on Oprah, turned into a stuttering mess. Schmuck.

Note to publishers: fact check. Note to authors: try calling it fiction.

Burn the lake; it's of no use to me anyway

Do you ever have one of those afternoons? I know that sounds like a set up for a joke.

There I am, just walking down the street; this fella's walking towards me. He decides to stop, drop and lie in the middle of the street. This stops me in my tracks. Sir--hello, sir can I help you? Nothing. Sir, this is dangerous--the guy could have easily been hit by a car. I tried to grab hold of his arm but he was limp and lifeless; not only was I repulsed by having to touch a stranger's(sorry, most people are filthy) hand, but he wouldn't help himself, leaving me to try to pick up the slack.

I got this funny feeling is this guy trying to kill himself? Has he given up all hope; thinks it would be better to just lie in the middle of the street and get run over by a car? Sure, the soccer mom in the Outback would be thrilled to know she was responsible for the death of this heavy overcoat wearing in 62 degree weather gentleman. Kids in the back: "Mommy, what was that large thud and crunch noise?" "Don't know kids; Mommy's putting the pedal to the metal and getting the McFuck outta here!"

Back to the gentleman... After several minutes of pushing and pulling with this dead eyed fella, I gave up; all hope lost I guess. I supposed I should be grateful Mr. Hopeless wasn't the head of the EPA. The lake's polluted--clean it? What's the point; burn the lake, it's of no use to me anyway. He lights his cigarette, over the blue flame of a roasting body of water, he smirks and walks away. I don't know what happened to this troubled gent, but I assume someone came along, picked him up, threw them on their back, slapped them around couple of times and told them to shape up or ship out. I am assuming cliche man lives in my neighborhood, but one never knows.

The lesser of two douchebags

"Oh, blogging is so five minutes ago"... usually said by someone who doesn't have anything to write about.

They probably spend way to much time on their webcam, complaining. Probably voted for Nader in 2000, said things like "there's no difference between Bush and Gore"--really? Guess what--Bush becoming President is your fault. You had to fight the fight, man. Ecch is what I have to say about that.

I can't believe Nader is actually running again; who would vote for him--have you learned nothing? The Green Party? Stop; please stop. Whether you like it or not, there are two parties: Democrat and Republican. No Green, Right to Life, Libertarian, Socialist, Communist, Bald Eagle, or whatever. Two parties; the rest are fringe groups, get it? Now cut the malarkey, register to vote and shut up already,

Oh and please go out once in a while; you're starting to stink.

By the by, saw "Grindhouse-Planet Terror" again this weekend; damn I loved that movie.
If you haven't seen it you should; if you did see it and didn't like it, well there's no hope for you, is there?

Back in the day

The Cyclone, that old rickety death trap.
Gone but not forgotten by those who loved it
and those who had been injured. Godspeed
you twisted hunk of metal.

Free the Coney Island Bee

The title says it all. Sad plastic bee behind a fence all day, actually he's gone now I'm sure there's a Condo in his place. Ah yes, progress

Nothing to it but to do it

This blog suffers from ADD, so don't be alarmed at the lack of cohesiveness.

This gem of a title came from an expression a gentleman I knew years ago.He would do the old hand smack with his male friends before they would go out and get there party on. Yes I admit it I have known many douche bags in my life. Where is he now? Probably selling sensible shoes in the heartland of America.

Relax, strap in and get ready for the blinding lack of continuity .

Let's do a remember when--remember when: You saw your first movie alone? Jaws 3D; year, 1982. Nothing to report; it was a piece of crap, but I got to see this dreck alone, so I felt cool. First time you thought you were going to die in a movie theater? Early '90's, watching Alien 3-- fella in back of me was making quite the racket, so I gathered up all my gumption and said "hey could you and your ladyfriend keep it down? I am trying enjoy my cinema experience. He obliged by kicking my seat quite forcefully and explained in very salty language that I would meet a bad end at the barrel of a gun; oh, and his girlfriend was going to f#ck me up, too. No, I did not die, but I certainly did not enjoy my cinema experience

Maybe if I was prettier, I could have done better in life, but alas, that's just not me. I suppose I thrive on mediocrity and a little slice of retail hell.

"I used to love them, but now, not so much"... I've been thinking about this; have you noticed that so many of the things that happen to you in life become metaphors for relationships?
Bands you like. At first, every thing was great; then, it changed. Things were never the same;
now you pretend they don't exist. You liked them before they were popular, now they're the pretty girl at the prom who's ignoring you. You're probably angry because they loved you when no one else did; they moved on--you didn't. But hey, let's face it; human relationships are so
yesterday.

Even old jobs have become abusive relationships. At first it was fine , then became controlling treats you like moron , might as well push you down the stairs. Suddenly a lousy boss turns into Ike Turner. Now I've had some lousy bosses, but I don't ever remember being beaten with a shoe, as far as I'm concerned maybe if I did some physiological beatings I might have ended up in a better place.

One last piece of the confused pie:

As you may have surmised, I watch a hell of a lot of TV, so you start to see many of the same actors over and over again. Do you ever think Keith David and David Keith ever get confused
with each other? The two fellas bump into each other on the street...


Start: Keith David and David Keith


Hey you! It's you!


David Keith:
Don't you narrate commercials for the Army?


Keith David:
Didn't you make that movie where you killed yourself and you were in the Army?


Both guffaw.

Keith David:
Weren't you in the film Lords of Discipline?

David Keith:
Hey weren't you in that movie with Jennifer Connolly where you taught her a little discipline with a stripper and a double sided dildo?


Both laugh heartily, slap each other on the back and decide to make plans for a sitcom.


Scene: fin.

If you had just listened to me, none of this would have happened

One day, every thing is peachy keen; the next day you find yourself in a church, in a subway station and people with very bad skin are praying to a nuclear missile, yapping on about "we reveal our inner self to you".

In other words, you're just having one of those days.

I know who killed your career: sorry for the corny play on a really bad movie. If you haven't seen this film, "I Know who Killed Me" trust me--don't. This magnum opus of drivel has hooting owls, Art Bell, blue roses, "scary music", stigmatas, body parts that just happen to fall off, then get stitched back on with sewing needles. It stars Lindsay Lohan as a whacked out stripper, who has a psychic connection to her long lost twin. She gets to say things like "I always felt like half a person with half a soul". Watch as she throws f-bombs, smoke and wear every low cut top and pair of boy shorts they could find at the local Long Island Mall. Of course, when she actually gets down to the "stripping", it's a costume right out of central casting (note to filmmakers: actual strippers are rarely stylish, glamorous or sexy; they step on stage, strip and leave; get on you and you get off). At least they got the thigh high hooker boots right.

I'm sure she did this film, thinking it was going to be some sort of masterpiece. That's why it's best not to go on a two day coke binge before you read the script. And of course, the role was "empowering"--another word of the '90's that won't die. You know sexual situations and nudity;
it's to embrace your sexual self and empower you... Sorry; just writing that line made me wince.

For once I would love to hear from an actress," my career was in the crapper; I needed some press" and like Sheriff Buford T. Justice said, "That's what I call an attention getter!" Indeed, Buford, indeed.

Now that you've read the review, trust me; this film is God awful. If you're dying of curiosity, go to www.moviespoiler.com; better yet, It was her piano teacher, OK? He did it! Don't say I didn't warn you.

One or the other

I bring questions:

What do you choose? Would you rather look like Courtney Love or Anna Nicole?
Answer: Anna. Why you ask? Because even though she's been dead for a year, her rotting corpse still looks better than Courtney on a good day.

Who would you pick: Nicole Ritchie or Paris Hilton?
Trick question: neither. Besides, can you please tell me what do these people actually do for a living?
Actually don't answer, I already have a headache...

Hillary Duff or Hayley Duff? Another trick; it does not matter--you just want the last name Duff, so Simpsons geeks could always greet you with "HMMMMM, Duff".

Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana? Don't care; I just want the 3 billion dollars she has.

Old Lindsay Lohan or little Lohan?
Young: you could start out fresh-faced and avoid all the tomfoolery that's left her looking like a 40 year old divorced, single mom from Long Island. Sorry, maybe I'm just looking at a picture of her mom; these days it's hard to tell.

Finally, XM or Sirius radio? At this point, nothing. If these two idiot companies merge together that only means one thing--one mega company that falls flat on its face and the subscribers holding the bag and paying the price for their greed.

One final note: do you know where the expression "rule of thumb" comes from? It was the width of stick a man could use to beat his wife with. This was legal, people.

 God Bless America.

Oh, the folly of youth bring memories I'd rather forget

Remember the days of your youth?

The fun, frolic and frivolity of days gone by; when you didn't have to get up in the morning, you could play all day and in the evening sit on the porch, drink Country Time lemonade and listen to old-timey music while grandma braided your hair. Actually, I made that part up. I only had one grandparent and she could have been described as a "passive-aggressive manic depressive", who one minute was nice; the next minute, putting rat poison in my fruit punch. "Come on sweetie, grandma made you a drink; it's got an extra kick to it". No wonder I always had stomach aches and nose bleeds as a kid. Yes, my grammy was Lucrezia Borgia, damn her and her hollow ring.


Remember the lovely Peanuts animated specials? I was never that much of a fan.

Charlie Brown was a pussy; Lucy: just an angry feminist living in a man's world. Linus and that stupid blanket--did he ever wash that damn thing? Peppermint Patty aka Jodie Foster--just one of the boys with a gentleman's hair-do (wink, wink), oh and Franklin; what the hell did he ever do? Poor token cartoon character; he probably had to be bused in from another comic strip every day. Do not get me started on Snoopy; damn war monger. There was no Red Baron, you loony canine, and always doing his dumb dog house dance. Oh and Woodstock, hippie bird --probably had mescaline in his bird seed. I don't know if you were aware of this; back in the day, my mom described Peanuts as a bunch of Christian comic strips, lots of homilies for the kiddies being spoon fed this pablum right under their noses. I guess that made Charlie Brown Christ, and Lucy was Mary Magdelene (angry whore, not actual whore). Who knows the truth?


My Mom also hated "Little House on the Prairie"; she thought that was a load of of do-gooder, fake sentimental crap. Honestly, I can't argue with that; have you ever gone back and watched it? Trust me, if there's ever a marathon on TV Land, you will be running for the remote. Either that or in the begin,ing when "little half pint", Melissa Gilbert goes running down the hill, you'll hope she trips and breaks her neck. Please spare me another picture with Michael Landon and his poofy '80's hair. Loved the Gingam though.

Ecch

Even if I wasn't married, this wouldn't fly.

You go on one these My Space (it should be called "My date rape and murder and body found in a shallow grave 2 weeks later, if you're dumb enough to meet someone you talked to on line" page). If it's Facebook or Vois, it's all a creep congregation. You just want to get in contact with someone for a business transaction and it turns into perv free-for-all.

Jackass #1 calls himself "Well Hung"; next winner calls himself "Porn69". Do they realize I could be 12; do you want to end up on Dateline NBC? "I thought she was 25"; sure you did.

Anyway, why do people do this crap? Is it any different than the garbage that makes the sounds and gestures to you when you walk down the street? If only my hard, cold stare carried the Ebola virus, I could have taken care of this problem long ago.

I would like to share with you a reply I sent to a master of subtlety:

Dear Sir,

Or shall I call you by your other name, "Recently Released Sex Offender"? I am just a simple lass, trying to make a busisness transaction. I have no interest in a hook up, dirty messages or being sent private photos. I know you are from the generation that hooks up first, asks questions later, like "why don't you like being chained to my radiator? I thought you enjoyed crying and blood? Wasn't in your profile?"

But I, sir, am a married woman who doesn't tolerate this sort of guff. Now I ask you to leave me be; go back to your collection of underage prositute body parts you have stuffed in your large freezer and who knows? If you wish real hard, maybe you can create one whole girl from that mess. Go away creep.

Signed,
Friends With Many Cops

So how do you like them apples?

Multinational death burger: the sequel, "No country for old Hippies"

Do you know this person?

Everthing to them is a conspiracy: "the corporations are destroying this country". Yes, I get it: Wal-Mart is the devil; so is Kmart, Target, all large bookstores--Borders, Barnes and Noble, the grand Satan, Mc Donalds and of course the Big Daddy, Starbucks.


Of course it goes a little something like this: you sit there with your coffee (latte, extra foam, do you know how many Guademalan children have to pick those beans for you to get one cup? Read a book from some conglomerate store, swallowing up the little guy so you can get the new Oprah's book selection half price. Go buy your wares at one of the "stores" (they dare not speak its' name, like it's Candyman or Voldemort, for goodness' sake). All the suffering, so you can have your things. Oh yes, you must be hungry; have a bite at the local McMultinational death burger--that should make you feel good. Can you hear the cows screaming in pain?


Does any of this sound familiar? Save the earth, Free trade, Stop the corporations from taking over the country... I have always wanted to ask this question: have you ever been to a local coffee shop? I might be generalizing, but coffee shops and diners stink. Overpriced; service is lousy and from the minute you sit down, they want you to go. I always shop at Target; I love Target--sorry, vintage overpriced duds aren't my thing anymore. And as far as I'm concerned,
I hate fast food; I've learned not to trust food that smells the same coming in and going out
(don't make me spell it out; idisgusting). If you want to eat a McRib, God bless--your insides
will probably explode, but you will enjoy it going down your gullet.


The world in general is a scary place, filled with lots of nasty dictators, thieves and vile scum.

Fine; if it makes you feel better carry a bag to the supermarket, support your local whatever, fight the good fight, carry your silly heart on your sleeve, just don't do it in front of me. I laugh and point.

Multinational death burger

Do any of you have friends that just make you cringe?

Not cringe in a good way, like your drunken friend from college--still drinking and whoring like it's 1994. Every time its the same--starts out fun; hours later she's in a supply closet, blowing the porter crying in a puddle of bile. You cradle her, brush away her vomit crusted hair and whisper gently, "It's okay; your stepdad isn't here. Let it go; he cant hurt you".

The whole time, you're filming it on your cell phone and stick it on YouTube.


How about this group: vegans. Not the wimpy "I only eat fish" types; the no leather, wool, silk,
won't eat meat, cheese,dairy. Always against animal testing, want to blow up research labs, attack the ASPCA and generally thinks that people are scum. Just a bunch of Tofurkey eating loons. I had a debate class with one of these wack jobs in college. We had to choose between saving a baby or a dog and she picked the dog. She put a higher value on Marmaduke-- granted, he could really get into some funny shenanigans, but we are talking about a baby, people.

Now if it was the choice of baby Hitler and Lassie, maybe she might've had a point.


But thats the problem with these people. Chickens don't have a soul; cows are cute, but dumb, and you know what? No matter what you do--how many animals you save--Clarice, the lambs will not go silent. Trust me; if I'm in the ocean, the shark that will rip me to shreads isn't thinking about my existence.

Eat a damn cheeseburger and put on some ill-fitting leather pants.

This is just a start. Next time, I'll write about the Mother Jones types; that should be fun.

Every time I let down my guard, the irritation starts

It's easy!--is it? A little bit of love from LeFig.

Those stupid "Easy" buttons; you know the damn Staples commercial. Things are tough, so you press the Easy button and magically, things are perfect. Now, as revolting as the commercial is, you know what's worse--people who buy the damn thing. Why are you buying a useless piece of red plastic crap? And why does the teller at my bank always have one at her station; why is this nimrod handling my money? Should I be surprised if she had a wall filled with Kathy cartoons and a poster of the "Hang in there baby" cat poster--ecch. If any of you out there have an "Easy" button and you are constantly pressing it, every time you do that, you lose a small piece of your soul.