Episode Eight: Look, Tim Gunn, I Can Dress Myself!

I'm working more images into this post. Guess what happens to the quality!



We said goodbye to Angela this week, shipping her right back to America before she'd even gotten settled. Yes, her tears are rosette-shaped.
I'm not particularly happy or sad, because we all knew this was going to happen at some point. We're down to six, and there just ain't room for Holly Hobby.
I took the liberty of looking up who Holly Hobby is, and Tim Gunn once again scores points for accuracy.



So, the episode kicked off with drama. Drama, drama, drama. More Jeff, more Angela, more overreacting, more Laura making spiky comments... lame. Even the models were talking behind each other's backs.
Just give me the clothes, please. At least the runway delivered. I love, LOVE the idea of the designers dressing themselves- it's a twist, but you still get a solid idea of their style.

Except for Vincent. He made a plain black top with plain black bottoms. They looked comfy, but Michael Kors once again urged "this is a DESIGN competition".
The judges were a little spicy this week, eh? I thought Uli's dress was beautiful, and appeared comfortable, even if it looked a bit like things she had done before. Have they met Laura?
I nor anyone should be surprised that the judges were inconsistent from one week to the next. Last week they honored a point of view, even if it was a disaster, and they did away with the most basic design. They had the same situation this week (there's even the fact that the basic design in both cases was out of the designer's comfort zone), and made the opposite decision. Heck, they didn't even put the boring design in the bottom two. As they say in France, le sigh.
Also on the Vincent front, he seemed a bit too anxious to take off his pants. Not helping the borderline-creepy image.



How cute was Michael teaching Kayne how to walk? I love Kayne, but he really does need someone around to help him tone down his outrageous fabulousness. Oh, how glad I am that he's still around. He's like ma sunshine.

Note to Michael Knight: get away from white! I'd love to see you at Fashion Week, but not if every single outfit is going to be white or gold. I was not down with Michael's pants. I believe they were touched by his noodley appendage.



Of course, there was a twist Part II. Cut to Angela being shocked, over and OVER again.
You're not being judged yet.

You're going on a trip.

On a plane.

In an HOUR!


The flight was to Paris, as many people had already predicted. Michael had no idea they had a Parons in Paris, but an internet full of fans certainly did. I pretty much squealed when Tim Gunn boarded the plane- of course he was going with them, but it's so cute when he gets all father-figure. Jeffrey expressed that rare sentimentality that makes him endearing to me- "I don't know what I'll do after this if I can't have Tim Gunn popping up in my life."

Oh, and bravo for Jeffrey finally winning something! He's been validated, and I'm now totally ok if he doesn't make the final three. I'm also OK if he does. There's a lot of talent in the room- I'd be interested in seeing most of their collections.
Eeeexcept Vincent. I hate to keep bringing him up, but you know how in season one, they all started looking at Robert and saying "how is he still here"? I predict this happening with Vincent very soon.

Note to Bravo: during the shots of Paris, I definitely heard at least one score from Amelie. I love Amelie, and I love Project Runway, but in very different ways- please don't mix them.

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Episode Seven: The First One I've Recapped.

The time of darkness has ended. Camp is over, and I have returned to provide yet another snarky recap to the masses. I didn't think there were enough, you know. Sorry if I skip around and leave out details- I'm not quite back in the rhythm yet.

You may or may not know that I used to gank all of my screencaps from the official site. This season, however, they're displayed in flash, and it's a pain to hit print screen, paste them into Microsoft Paint and cut out the rest of the page. So, my brilliant time-saving trick is meticulously recreating desired scenes with Microsoft Paint.

Just kidding, they're not meticulous at all!



We said goodbye to Robert this week. The show is now 10% less fabulous. I'm ok with this elimination, because while he can make a fine garment, he's yet to make a fine, interesting garment. Except of course when he was paired with Kayne, who is perhaps too interesting.

So, this challenge demanded the designers design for the moms and sisters of their competitors, which is a great idea in theory, but fell short for me in execution (I'm STILL waiting for the maternity wear challenge, Bravo). The body types were greatly varied, therefore the challenge obviously skewed. Did it bother anyone else that the designer for one of the tallest, slimmest mothers won; while the arguably shortest and stoutest sister's designer was aufed?
Laura and Vincent were shown talking about sucking it up and making it work with plus-sized models- but they were of the lucky few that didn't have plus-sized models and therefore didn't have to move out of their comfort zone. Lame.

(Important tidbit of this episode that I couldn't fit anywhere else: Laura is pregnant- for the sixth time- and accidently tells her mom about it over brunch. Hilarious, right?)

It did not sit well with me that Vincent, even with Uli's beautiful mother, turned out his signature strange simplicity. But for whatever reason, the judges went nuts for it. I'm pretty psyched that Tim Gunn agrees with my assessment, down to the damn back of the dress.



What is that! Mr. Gunn, whom I am exponentially growing more fond of, also agrees that this should have been Uli's victory. I can't MSPaint it properly, but believe me, it moved so nicely. She used an age-appropriate but still stylish print, and made the personality of her plus-sized model (Kayne's mother) stand out.

I'm not saying Uli's my favorite, but I'd be happy to see her go to the final three. I'm also not trying to hate on Vincent, he's not villianous or anything. I guess minimalism gets him off/turns him on, and Kimya Dawson is really fond of him. I just don't... prefer him. In honesty, I'd rather see what Allison would create for this challenge.
Strangely enough, I think my favorite at this point is Jeffrey, assholey-ness aside. It was Katherine (RISD girls have a special place in my heart), then Bonnie, then Bradley. The problem with loving the underdog is that they eventually lose, unless they're also good television. I was very fond of Michael's early creations, but I'm a fan of color and his palette is pretty bland. I definitely thought Jeffrey ought to be recognized over him in the recycling challenge. Plus, I'm a sucker for tough guys with a soft side- he shed a tear for Robert in the end.
I'm seeing serious Jeff-hate all over the internet and not really getting it. I get that he's a jerk and maybe a pig, but he's not "the most loathsome thing ever". I was irked when I saw a comment on another blog that said "he thinks he is the new santino... but the point is santino actually made clothes...not sewn-together masses of crap." Come on now, this is one hot mass of crap. The commenter is, however, totally right in the fact that it's not sewn together, it's glued.

The number one reason for Jeff-hate this week is the drama he got into with his model, Angela's mother. Who would've guessed that these two weren't compatible?



She didn't like the outfit, and he didn't have the time or expirience to design something different, so they argued about it and- I don't care. This fight, if you can call it that, was just a lot of overreaction on both sides.

His outfit was pretty awful- Angela's mama pulled out "matronly" against him on the runway. She's watched the show before. He wasn't out, though, because he's more likely than Robert to make something decent in the future. If only the judges took into account the designer's full body of work in every challenge, eh?

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The Wonders of Summer Camp, Part Two

1. Ticks. I mentioned bug bites, did I mention ticks? It's a "wet season" this year, which apparently means the ticks are on a mating rampage. I've had one on my arm, one on my stomach, one on my hip and one on my face. My face! All in one day. At least I only had to go to the camp nurse once, and I don't have any lyme disease symptoms. Raechel: 1, Ticks: 0.

2. Excrement. Urine, mostly, but a healthy bit of feces and everything else that comes out of humans. I imagine that the ignorant think being a camp counselor is a leisurely job that involves bug juice, playing soccer with kids and hanging out at the beach. The ignore the fact that bug juice turns into pee, playing in the sun leads to major sweat, and the waterfront is one big toilet. Especially with the younger kids, excrement is a major concern. If you don't nearly force them to shower, everything is rank from the sweat. If you don't get up to escort them to the bathroom at three a.m., they might pee the bed, and someone has to clean that up. Everyone pees in the lake, end of story. The bathrooms require constant vigilance- campers do not hesitate to poop on top of the poop on top of the poop clogging the toilet. Some friends of mine found that out the hard way this week. Puke has happened too. Intense puke. You do not even want to know.

3. Drama. Got worse. Hope it gets better.

4. Laser tag! This is an actrual good thing! The girls, with no campers this week, went out for laser tag on Wednesday, and I won! The red team camped the whole game. In a hallway. They were asking for it. I just kept running back and forth gunning down every single one of them. The adrenaline rush was nuts.

I still haven't had time to watch a full episode of Project Runway. I'm having withdrawal pains. I did catch the end of the second episode today, and I was a little sad to see Malan go, even if it was inevitable. He was growing on me.



How could you not love that face?

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The Wonders of Summer Camp, Part One

1. Bug bites. My dear sweet God, the bug bites. They don't stop. Every weekend I come home thinking; ah, relief, at least I won't find any new bug bites for a few days. Incorrect, I think the bites are independently multiplying. I've just now counted twenty-five bites, on my arms alone. My legs are a whole other mess.

2. Mysterious bruises. When did I mutilate the back of my leg? Was I carrying a sledgehammer improperly? Did I mention that in addition to being an Episcopalian camp, the older kids do work projects? It's not as bad as it sounds- in fact, it's not bad at all. It's satisfying. I've chopped down trees, painted cabins, built bridges, scrubbed toilets... which reminds me.

3. I plunged my first toilet. That one wasn't an official work project, I'm just that damn handy. I woke up at six, had to pee, found a clogged toilet and saw a plunger. The boy may be a chef, but I'm well-versed in dirty work. I have willingness, nay, enthusiasm to, say, crawl under a cabin in the mud and rake. It's character building. It's a life skill. It's marriage material.

4. Drama! I can't speak a word of it, because I have love for my co-workers and respect for their privacy, but know that it's some of the most intense I've ever seen. Well, that's not true at all, but it's early in the summer, and the precedent is being set pretty high. Oh, and there are four Camp America counselors this summer, so the drama is going international.

I'm catching Project Runway season 3 for the first time right now, so nothing on that yet. I won't pick favorites yet, but it's a very promising group. I have to be back at camp in two hours, so peace, love and mango juice.

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In Which I Have A Romantic Getaway Before Summer Camp Deters My Will To Live

Hey guys.
Sorry to neglect you- the boy whisked me away to Cape Cod this weekend. Romantic, eh? Ignoring the fact that our first two destinations fell through: Central Pennsylvania to make films with his best friend from Ithaca, or a weekend in Vermont doing puzzles with his aunts.

First, the boy took me on a tour of his childhood in Sandwich, where he spent his summers.
Dear people of Sandwich, I wish you the best on your insane caterpillar epidemic. I spent no more than five minutes on unpaved grounds in your town, and I found the fuzzy bastards crawling on my pants. Maybe if you change your name, they will go away. May I suggest "Hungrybird"? Love, Raechel.

Next we explored Hyannis, for two reasons: a giant candy store the boy remembered from his boyhood and the Cape Cod Potato Chip factory. Oh, it's love. If you're not familiar with the kettle-cooked snacks I'm talking about, please scour the earth until you find them, they are amazing. We didn't find the factoy, but hey, there's reason for another visit.

The jewel, of course, was Provincetown. People kept warning me I would "see strange sights"- they really shouldn't work my hopes up like that. I only saw two drag queens. Two! And I didn't get hit on by any girls, though I suppose walking hand in hand with a boy deters that. I did get advertised to by a lesbian club promoter. The food was delicious, the beaches were beautiful and the commonplaceness of rainbow flags made me feel like I'd reached some kind of homeland. I loved it, and I hope to get back there many times.

I know I should include some pictures, but I've been working on a new project today (inspired by one of my souvenirs, one of the many volumes of Dykes to Watch Out For) and I'm sick of resizing things. So, I'll leave you with two pictures I took in Provincetown. I call this game, Was That Intentional?



The Prince Albert Guest House. I heard other tourists giggling about it, so I think it might be intentional.



Seamen's Bank. According to the date on the building, they've been around for over a century, so this is probably not intentional. They are near the sea, after all. This one is just a lovely coincidence.

Oh, fine, one more picture. Because I love.



I love Provincetown, that is.

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In Which I Have Time To Waste Talking About TV Again

Ok, it's about time I offer up something on Last Comic Standing. But, damn! At this pace I'm going to be at church camp before they get into the house- and then I'll be catching LCS and PR reruns on weekends, and heck knows I won't have the energy to recap them both. Considering my schedule the next few weeks (road trip, college orientation, camp training) this could very well be my first and last LCS update. How sad. Well, maybe not that sad, but mildly unpleasant.

At this point, we know the first five in the house. Let's start with my favorite, who I was going to label my underdog last week, but after tonight, he's obviously the front-runner:

Josh Blue. He got a standing ovation tonight and was dramatically presented with the last spot in the house. Not because he has cerebral palsy. Because he's fucking funny.


I can see Chris Porter going pretty far- he's genuinely funny, in a universal sort of way. His material is delivered in a semi-rant format that will make you laugh even if you don't agree with him. Though it's hard to disagree with him, because he pulls off being just barely political. It's a good strategy.


Joey Gay intrigued me, and I couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was his risky, loud, abrasive delivery. Maybe it was his interview comments, which I found way funnier than his actual material. Or maybe, just maybe, it was his scary fucking mouth:

Gah! TEETH.


Roz was going to make it in the house. Duh. Besides the fact that she's really funny, she talked about her history with drug addiction and her gratitude towards God in the very first episode. Strong black women with a heart of gold = the stuff of which reality TV is made. Any coincidence that she's the first thing that comes up on the video player on the official website? I like you, Roz, but the producers are going to milk you. Speaking of the producers...


I couldn't get a picture of her on the website, so I plucked this from her myspace. She was pretty funny; in that predictable, safe way that NBC seems to love. And in a move to increase their shaky credibility, they've cast a former contestant's girlfriend. Brilliant.

I was sad to see a few of the contestants go- namely Wild Willy, Niki Glazer, the guy who talked about a naked pope, the guy who did a lot of material on racism ("Don't give me that crap- that stuff's for Jews! Pay me in fireworks."), and the guy who reminded me of Mitch Hedburg with a business haircut. You know what I'm saying, Hollywood. If that's even your real name.
Of course, the first two would probably wear quickly depending on the crowd, and the fact that I can't recall the latter three's names is a sign of their fate on the show.

Next week, I have high hopes for Nikki Payne, Kristen Key and Malik. Of course, the only one I'm sure as Roz is moving forward to the house is that guy with the big head. He's not my favorite, but the judges are eating him up.

Who else thinks that there will be at least one challenge sponsored by Capital One?

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Raison D'être

I'll start with a somewhat relevant story: On Monday morning, I freaked out and caused a scene at work for the first time.
Why? I gave one of the cooks, my acting manager, a big flyer from the Rhode Island Blood Center that a very nice volunteer had given to me to hang up, and after this manager and a younger cook scoffed at the thought of giving blood, insinuated it was some sort of conspiracy, and generally mocked the idea of doing a good deed for a person you don't know, he ripped up the flyer before my eyes.
There were customers. I screamed. I stole the pieces (with the panicky idea that I could fix it), ran to the bathroom and cried. I guess it was just a shock- maybe I've come to assume everyone has the compulsion towards kindness. I realize I'm just blessed to often be surronded by people who are so generous, loving and inspiring.

This is, of course, how I spent Sunday night.



Raison D'Etre (reason for being) was Sunday, and it was beautiful. The kids raised $500 for World Vision- and that's at the low admission price of three dollars.


(Psst, I'm pretty sure The Blue Rhoda is playing in this picture.)

I wish I got some shots of the art in progress- there were two big murals being painted outside, and ornate chalk arrows stretching down the nearby street to advertise. Oh well. Here's some of the art featured:








These two are by my friend Melissa. She's so talented, it might kill you.


These pieces are by Mike, who is possibly my current favorite person. What a kid. The top left one is by his girlfriend, Mindy.


This is the handiwork of Nick, who made an apperance, but was too manly or something to stick around all night. The furthest right is a self-portrait.


The portrait there is actually a self-portrait, by the leading lady of the evening, Katie! The trombone belongs to one of the boy's friends, but I don't know who painted it. Sure is swell, though.


These are mine! Huzzah. In case you are wondering, their titles from top to bottom are "Enlightenment", "Turn Your Pain Into Love" and "Yeah, We're Pretty Fucking Beautiful".

And now, a musical interlude:


This is an Izaiah, who possesses the very genes for musical genius. Not kidding. I'm pretty sure the members of his family were all born with a tiny guitar in their hands.


The painting behind him is also by Miss Katie. It's the Mona Lisa. The real one.


This is Kevin! He's one of the boy's nearest and dearests, and an all-around good kid. He was home for the weekend from Americorps*NCCC, and it's a bit depressing to tell that Ian was working at camp all weekend and didn't get to see him.


He was very good, and very modest about it. The word for his performance would be "endearing". I hope he keeps playing that thing.


This is Breathe Easy, who were quite good, and not as loud as they claimed they would be. I was in a band with the bassist, once. Guess he was too "committed to playing music" for a band that had two practices, one of which was dominated by playing video games. The lead guitar player, Tim, is pretty amazing. I don't know those other guys.


In this image, people are moving stuff around to accomodate the last band. I don't know who they were, actually, but they were crazy loud. It was pretty good, for a mosh band in an art gallery. The lady in yellow is top banana herself, Katie. I don't mean to discredit the other people who organized this, I just wasn't involved, so I don't know who did what. Not to mention that I don't have any pictures of them. Laura and Jen were the ladies who brought the whole idea forward, I believe, and worked with Katie as a team. There were plenty of others who helped out. From the outside, things seemed to go smoothly- so a pat on the back, an I love you, and a cup of freshly squeezed mango juice to everyone who made it happen.

Well. I'm happy I can say that this is the sort of thing I do with my life, and I'm practically in love with all of my friends. Did I mention Dave was there, after spending a week helping orphans in Haiti? That just struck me, when the cook ripped up that flyer. They were unrelated, really, but I just wanted to shout, "How can you be so heartless about such a thing, when people are out feeding Haitian orphans?"
Katie, Laura, Jen, Kevin, Dave; they're not crazed, or superhuman or anything. They're just nice people, seizing opportunities to do good.
I hope this hasn't been too shmaltzy for you. I'll talk about TV some other week. This week, I hope you're inspired by these friends of mine. I am, constantly.

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I LIKE ATTENTION: THAT'S WHY I WROTE THE ATTENTION SONG.

I thought I was free. I thought the show went down the crapper, and I wouldn't be spending another season calling my best friend at every commercial to bitch about how much we hated so-and-so or worshipping Todd Glass. I quit the livejournal community, I threw out my personal stand-up notepad, I stopped freaking out every time Gary Gulman or Rich Vos passed through Providence. How did I not know they shared a producer with Project Runway? The addiction tastes the same.



Roooooar! I am the cookie monster!
Ahem. I'm geeking out about this show being back on the air. I know the person who isn't supposed to win always wins, but it's the journey I love. I'm big on comedians. The boy and I had our first magic moment when we realized we could both quote Mitch Hedburg verbatim.

Check out the judges this season!



How stoked am I? More stoked than when I bumped into Cory Kahaney in New York City. She was buying a case of cigarettes. True story!
If I end up making this a weekly occurence, it will be less picture-heavy than Project Runway and more analytical. But not in a creepy Dat Phan chart-making kind of way.

Glee!

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Oh yeah, and I don't like American Idol, either.

I don't have any exciting news. I'm just writing so I'm not tempted to watch the season finale of LOST. The boy is obsessed. Not in the totally extreme, taping-every-episode and watching-with-a-notepad kind of way, but in the watches-every-episode, goes-over-theories-in-commercial-breaks kind of way. I've watched for the past two weeks with him. This week, I didn't invite him over on Wednesday. Because the damn show stresses me out. As tempting as the twists and turns may be, I can't stand two hours of build-up that never gets resolved.

Seriously! Why do I want to watch the adorable fat guy's struggling girlfriend get shot up with heroin, mutter her murderer's name and die? I understand, the intrigue, the mystery, ooooo. However, I was sincerely depressed about it the next day. Of course within the story it was sad that Libby died, but more personally, I was bummed that I couldn't get away with ogling Michelle Rodriguez instead of following the plot.



At least Ana Lucia was already dead on the inside.
What crap is it that Michael just-so-happened to shoot the two characters whose actresses recently had their drunken mugshots on the internet?
And Michael! I'm already sick of his melodramatic storyline.



Of course, they're all melodramatic bu-
...wait a minute. Get out of the way, Michael, who is that behind you?



Hello there Alex, also known as Tania Raymonde, also known as my new reason to watch the show. Can you believe it's that nerdy little girl from Malcolm in the Middle, all growed up? Maybe I'll go catch the second hour to see if she makes an appearance. Don't worry, the boy knows I'm an avid lady ogler.


If you're sick of me ogling girls and complaining about tv shows, you can go read about how awesome my state is.

"In the latest victory for advocates of comprehensive sex education, the Rhode Island Department of Education last week said state-funded schools should cease participation in a federally funded abstinence-only curriculum."
Great news, but it doesn't affect me much- I got comprehensive sex ed at church camp. I actually heard about this a little while ago, but Feministing made a note of it today, and I felt the urge to brag. Rhode Island is, in fact, cooler than you.

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In Which My Friends Are AMAZING

I love being surronded by such inspiring humans.
Some girls that I love are doing good deeds in a fabulous way: raising money for kids in Africa by hosting a big show for local artists and bands this weekend.

You can check out their beautiful website. If you're not of Rhode Island (as many people are not), don't fret, I'll be taking plenty of pictures.

Later, babies.

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In Which I Question The White Hollywood Machine

Ok. I wasn't sure if I ought to post this in "Congrats" or here. It's not really anyone being an asshole- it's more so a face-into-palm, you-can't-be-thinking-clearly situation.

Looking for creative ways to waste my time, I played this game a few days ago. I'm not promoting the game- it's a Nickelodeon game, who apparently think kids are too stupid to do more than play one level, so they made essentially the same level with ten different themes. The thing is, it's based on their new show, "Genie on the House", which I couldn't find much internet information about. Why was I looking up a kid's show no one (my age, at least) has yet heard of? Because I care.

If you clink that link, you'll be greeted with this image:



Now, you may be wondering why "Adil" looks like someone photoshopped his face to match his shirt. If you look at his hand, it's not hard to tell that his skin has been tampered with. This was not the image that appeared when I first played the game. You can see what the kid is supposed to look like in this tiny picture, the only one that comes up when you search for "Genie in the House":



It seems someone has painted the young white actor playing the genie a light brown. I guess this only struck them as insensitive a few days after they released an online game about it. I was hoping, in vain, that it was his natural skin tone, and only looked like brownface due to lighting or something. The touch-up just added to my worries. They can filter out their bad idea on the internet, but what are they going to do with the show? Digitally edit every scene? Claim it's a natural tan?

Look, if you're going to do a kid's show about genies- and first of all, why are you doing a kid's show about genies? As if genies haven't been done a million times, there's already a popular show on Nickelodeon about kids getting wishes.

Now let's pretend having a show with a genie is still an original idea. Why oh why would one put a teen actor into that puffy, creepy, old-timey, stereotypical genie outfit? Thankfully they omitted the typical pointy ears and bizarre ponytail, why not just totally westernize him and throw him in jeans and a t-shirt? You could give him wild green hair or something to identify him as "supernatural".

Of course, most importantly, if you're really committed to that classic Western image of the ornately dressed Arabian genie, why not get an actor of Middle Eastern descent? They do exist, and would probably be delighted to get a role on a widely viewed television station. If you've been watching TV lately (or, well, ever) you might noticed the dearth of Middle Eastern (and Indian, and Asian, and Native American, and etcetera) performers in major roles. Unless, of course, they did try that, and every single kid walked out in horror when introduced to the creepy outdated genie costume he would have to wear. So they hired a white teen actor, and by paint or by lamps, changed his skin. I guess the minds at Nickelodeon thought kids are also too stupid to tell the difference.

edit: Genius as I am, I neglected to click the "Nick" logo above the game and figure out that this is currently only airing in the UK. I'm no less worried- aren't they supposed to be smarter than us?

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Lisa Loeb wants no scrubs.

A friend with mutual swooning tendencies when it comes to the lovely Ms. Loeb pointed me in the direction of this late night talk show performance. Oh, wistful sigh, Lisa Loeb was my first celebrity girl-crush, and I love when the special place in my heart devoted to her (quite near the special place for Oscar Wilde, and alongside others for Alan Cumming and Sarah Silverman- the "long-standing nerdy crush" section of my heart) is warmed by little reminders- "Stay" comes on the radio at work, I catch an ad for her reality show, a friend sends me a video of her covering TLC (who, coincidentally, did their own part in causing young, queer swooniness)...
If you're not as enraptured by Lisa Loeb as my friend and I, you'll have to wait out the first song to get to the cover. But, come on! How can you not enjoy it? She's adorable.

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Geek Gone Wilde

Can I give quick props to Rich of FourFour for referring to Oscar Wilde during his ANTM piece this week? As if Rich needs props from li'l old me, but it really made my day. I know I only mentioned it in passing, but I have a special place in my heart for Oscar Wilde. Sure, I "like" Virginia Woolf and Samuel Beckett, in that I own a few works of theirs, but that's half for intellectual street cred. I haven't even gotten through a third of Orlando- too damn long! Oscar Wilde, however, graces my bulging shelves only once- with a hardcover collection of his complete works. I don't read Oscar Wilde to sound like a good little English major. I read Oscar Wilde with extreme affection. Excuse me while I geek out:



Could this mention in FourFour mark a new trend among blogs? Bitching about Tom Cruise out, quoting Oscar Wilde in! Just kidding, bitching about Tom Cruise will never be out. What would D. Wils do if her arch nemesis fell from the public eye? Besides perhaps hold a party. Actually, I hope this switch comes to pass, I could go for some cake. Keep an eye out for further Oscar Wildeisms in the blogosphere, my friends.

...did I just use the word "blogosphere"?

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So, what have I been up to this week?

Oh, the average bohemian this-is-a-new-stage-of-my-life rituals before the summer job grabs me by the throat and drains my will to live. Or at least, my will to wake up at three a.m. every morning and escort kids to the bathroom. I think the weekly updates over the summer will be a good means of venting about the childrens, and of course the summer camp drama. It's way more involved, frustrating, and ridiculous than high school drama, of which I largely chose not to partake. Unfortunately, camp counselor drama is above all impossible to avoid.

Speaking of camp, I put in my two weeks on the waitressing job. Being a camp counselor is stressful, but it makes one more responsible, compassionate and inclined to hugs/soulful group cries. I'm not exaggerating to say that waitressing has made me a worse person. On the job I get irritable, spiteful and judgemental. They had a thirty dollar check and left an eighty cent tip? Fuckin' cheap hicks! Drink less beer next time! I hate everyone, and the bitches on the night shift didn't thaw the strawberries!

So, sticking it to the man is step one of the bohemian transition from small-town existence to independence. Step two requires a public act or physical transformation. Some people I know get tattoos every time their life changes, some people chop off their hair, Kevin Smith makes another Clerks, and I got this:

This nose piercing represents the pain of my adjustment into adulthood!
Just kidding! It represents looking awesome.

Step three? Why, a futureless passion!

A zest for painting! I found out they sold canvas at the dollar store, and I was hooked. I'm submitting this and three others to a friend's art show. I've submitted to her shows before, but usually, you know, in a medium in which I was either talented or educated. I suck at painting, it just feels good. Listen: I know the breasts are messed up. I'm just going to tell everyone I intentionally left them imperfect as an additional statement on body image, and soak up the pretentious hippie street cred.

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No Time To Blog!

Seriously. I'm blogging during dinner right now. I'm working late tommorow night and even skipping out early to attend a rally at Jen's college, but then I've got to rush home to get my preliminary shit together for an event this weekend and deliver it to someone who can actually make it to that event. The boy comes home on Friday night, though I probably won't get to see him, which is alright because we'll need sleep that night, as I have to work in the camp kitchen for the third weekend in a row at seven thirty, and we won't be sleeping all weekend due to volunteering for an event in support of the already aforementioned event. If that doesn't make a lick of sense, don't worry about it: the point is, I'm frigging busy. On Sunday I'm probably either going to church with the family for the one-year anniversary of the death of my grandfather or I am, drumroll, getting my nose pierced with a friend for her birthday. I'm debating if God would smite me for that one, or at least if my Poppy would wag his finger at me from the heavens. But then, I don't imagine he'll be watching the service if they get baseball in heaven. He's probably still too busy cursing at Johnny Damon to be upset with me. Fucking Johnny Damon.

So, I'm leaving a minimal-effort something to hold you over until next weekend. Why do I even bother? Because, Congratulations, You're an Asshole is back up, and apparently better than ever. It's been linked to from The Church of Annette, which is linked to from FourFour, which is linked to from Queerty- there is a chain from Queerty to this blog! Long and obscure as it may be, there is a chain. CYAA has been getting steady comments, and what if I'm next? I can't deal with more than a half-dozen people checking on my shitty corner of the internet! At least not until Season Three of Project Runway starts and I actually have something to write about regularly. Oh, woe, angst and agony, I might have an audience.

I've got to run, but as I've not made my love for the Man in Heels explicit enough, I'll leave you with pearls of wisdom to keep you chuckling in my absence. If you want the full expirience, run to your local quality DVD provider and buy everything he's ever made, now, please.



from Dress to Kill:
"The National Rifle Association says that, 'Guns don't kill people, people do'. But I think the gun helps, you know? I think it helps. I just think just standing there going, 'Bang!' That's not going to kill too many people, is it? You'd have to be really dodgy on the heart to have that... 'Bang! Rat-tat-tat! Boom!' I think they should just try that, you know. But yeah, shooting clay pigeons, I think, go for that! Shooting clay pigeons, they’re fuckers! Come round your house, whiz through- they do nothing, they don't even eat flies! You know? Spiders eat flies, so they're all right, keep them, you know? Flies don't eat fuckall, so kill 'em! And clay pigeons - everyone shoots them in the air. Wait 'til they land! Then go up to the clay pigeon... pow! Much easier."

from Unrepeatable:
"Nowadays, we’re more sophisticated as consumers. We go into supermarkets and we read the labels. ...This jam is made by Nazis with dead trees, bits of mud and spit. Well, I don’t think I’ll have that one. This jam was made by groovy people! And fruit who agreed to be in the jam in the first place."

from Sexie:
"Guide dogs, they are bright, they get chosen especially chosen: You! You have the look in your eye, the look of intelligence, you’ll become a special dog.
And the dog goes, Food?
You know what I’m saying, don’t you? Come, and I will make you a leader amongst dogs!
Food, now? With marrow? The yummy bit of humans?"

Thanks to auntiemomo for the transcripts and picture. Except this one:


Did I ever mention that he flirted with my mother?

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