Bad Advice

This dude's stealing my schtick!

This is Chris—he's selling bad advice for a buck outside of Whole Foods. I was very excited to meet him and get another professional's take on a problem I'm having. So I told him I'd be needing some bad advice and he started to just tell me—before I'd even asked the question! I reminded him I hadn't asked yet and made him wait while I went to go break a $20.

I'm not going to tell you my problem—or his advice—because hopefully one of you guys will stumble across him and get your own buck's worth of wisdom. It was a dollar well-spent and Chris seemed like a nice guy. Had some very cool tattoos as well. Chris said he'd already sold two signs like the one he's holding today. After I got on the subway I cursed myself for not buying one myself.

Grrrrr.

Thursday is the new Friday

In the interest of being servicey, I must point out two very fun happenings going on this evening. Because of a previous engagement (birthday dinner with one of my best pals) I don't know if I'll make either, but you should.

First, Jen Dziura is one of the funniest and smartest women I know. For those of you who care about such things, she's also a fox. Her one-woman play is tonight at ARS Nova. Entitled "What Philosophy Majors Do After College," it is certain to be a laugh riot. You can buy tickets here. They're only $15. Go now.

Second, Rachel Kramer Bussel's long-running "In the Flesh" series is happening at Happy Ending. She has an amazing lineup, featuring among others, the world-famous Susie Bright and also Maxim Jakubowski, editor of the Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica. The reading starts at 7:30, but get there by 7:00 if you want breathing room and to grab some of the free snacks Rachel always provides.

The puppy photo is grabbed off of The Daily Puppy, for no particular reason. I just like Puggle puppies. And well, pretty much any kind of puppy, really.

Also, if you want, you can read my Seattle Weekly column on what happens when you bone a married lady or my Time.com piece on romantic film destinations.

A little shopping post for you.

Did you know it's fashion week here in New York City? Yeah, I wouldn't either except it means my friend Rose has mega-overtime and I don't see her anymore. Since I don't really give a crap what Marc Jacobs is showing this season, I thought I'd celebrate consumerism with a little help from my friend Jules, who has been sharing with me all manner of cute things I might want to buy. Translation: she's bored and work and randomly Googling words like "vulva." Thus, she sends me this fab vadge necklace that some genitalia-obsessed crafter has made:

Now let me be clear, I like vaginas as much as the next gal, but I really can't see walking around with this around my neck. I like penises too and have never been moved to show that sentiment via jewelry. Anyway, if you'd like to purchase the "Vaginal Necklace" (or perhaps an oversized vaginal wallet or felt sew-on vagina dentata patch), check out VulvaLoveLovely's Etsy shop.

Jules also sent me this beautiful romper, thinking (correctly) that there is nothing I like more than an item of clothing that combines my two favorite things in one garment—the cowl neck AND the romper. If only the romper were gaucho-length I'd be right back there in fifth grade. Incredibly, this universally figure-flattering number is available for the recession-friendly price of $325.00! I'll take two, thanks!

This last dopey product I found all on my own—it's mascara, but only for your lower lashes. Huh? All these many years of using mascara and I've been using the same tube for both upper and lower lashes!!! Don't I feel like a dum-dum now. It's also $16, which is approximately three times as much as I pay for my Maybelline Great Lash.
 

Weekend Update, Part 2

Last Thursday I flew down to Richmond, VA to see my friend, superstar Tracey St. Peter's fan-freaking-tastic art opening at the Eric Schindler Gallery.  Wow. If you're anywhere in the area, please stop by and while you're at it, art is a good investment for any extra dough you have laying around. That's Tracey, in front of one of her Wonder Woman paintings. After the jump, several of my faves.

Weekend Update, Part 1

I was out of town (that post to follow shortly), but according to Miss Heather, the other night at 1 AM, there was an armed robbery on the corner of my street. Two guys—at least one with a gun—approached a couple and stole their stuff, including a laptop. Then they fled down North 11th and made a turn on Roebling. No doubt right down Rapey Alley. (Here's another shot of it—I like this one because it looks like an outtake from an afterschool special about the dangers of LSD.)

Call me a wuss, but scaffolding is creepy. At least they've finally added lights to ours, but so far I have found lurking: a sofa (okay, not creepy, just large), a man's jacket (obviously torn off his body), and a backpack that someone had helpfully emptied of its contents. Maybe it belonged to the jacket-owner, who knows. But by far, the creepiest thing I've found in Rapey Alley lurks after the jump—

Pardon me while I feel massively sorry for myself.

It's only 11:10 on Monday morning and already my week is not off to a good start. It started yesterday when I began to not-so-silently flip out about this morning's periodontal visit. I lay in bed, eyes wide open, for a few hours, dropped off to sleep and then woke in a panic around 3AM.

When it was time to get up, I carefully scrubbed my teeth  and toddled off to see my gruff Israeli periodontist. He's very capable and seems like a nice guy, but I wish he were a little cuddlier. A little less of a hard-ass. My therapist once suggested I discuss my feelings of dread and terror with him, but believe me when I say that would only make our relationship way more uncomfortable than it has to be. The fact that I regularly burst into tears on the chair kind of makes my feelings clear anyway.

And you know how usually when you're worried about something, it turns out that the reality isn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be? Well, in this case, my worrying was completely warranted. And then some. Somehow I need to gather $20,000 in the very near future. And up my pain threshold while I'm at it.

I know it's not cancer or a brain tumor or even an amputated limb, but this is really fucking with my mood and my ability to write so I might not be as chatty as I normally am. That's all. Carry on. And if any of you have a spare 20k laying around, well, never mind.

Also, if you want a laugh, check out my pal Ivan's new blog here. Also, last week I was feeling funnier and so I wrote a piece about having sex with Rahm Emanuel. (Even though the reality would be way hotter than it would be funny.) And when I'm feeling sad, I always look at Elsa Mora's blog because she just seems like the sweetest, kindest, most positive person in the world. Plus, she's incredibly talented and her art makes me smile. 

My first iPhone post!

This is the scaffolding that I need to walk through every day. Even with the lights it's fairly creepy. I call it "Rapey Alley."

I hope this is just a rumor. . .

A couple different sites are reporting that Lux Interior died. I really hope it's not true. 

I was lucky enough to interview him and Ivy a million years ago. They were both very sweet. They didn't have a publicist at the time and I was briefly living back at home with my parents. One night when I got home from work my mom gave me a puzzled look and said "A woman named Ivy Rorschach called!" I had left them a message, expecting to get a callback from a record company flack, but nope. Ivy was just taking care of business. I met up with them at the Barbizon hotel in midtown and had a very nice chat. I wonder if I even still have a copy.

UPDATE: Looks like it's true.