these days of leiderhosen

Four jobs I have had in my life Dental assistant, age 12 Lingerie salesgirl Professional exhibitionist Singing telegramist Four movies I would watch over and over: Amelie La Femme Nikita, the original Leon Indiana Jones The three places I have lived: Seattle, WA Los Gatos, CA Oakland, CA Four TV Shows that I watch: Project Runway Good Eats Pushing Daises Inside the Actors' Studio Four Places I have been: Rome La Paz, Baja California New York Polo, MO Four of my favorite foods: Cornflakes with banana Rice pudding with raisins The end of a fresh baguette Homemade chicken pot pie Four places I would rather be right now: Rollerskating on the tables of the New York Public Library Drinking a cafe corretto in Piazza Della Rotunda and watch the world walk by Face-down on a massage table Watching live theater Four things I am looking forward to this year: Vacation Family developments Stash reduction Lunch

Local News: The lovely ferocious women who protest outside the Marine Recruiting Station around the corner from my office in Berkeley every single day got a write up in the New York Times. I will say this: they get up early and go home late. And who the hell opens up a recruiting station in Berkeley?! Go, Ladies! The Charming Jessica came over last night for Knitting Group. There is something about Lay-Z-Boys that really opens up conversations. The only analogy available might be that it is much like meeting the most fantastic person of your dreams... and they are wearing socks that don't match, torn pants and their hair that looks as if it were combed with an anteater. And clogs. The packaging may be atrocious, but if the goods themselves (the person, the recliner) are great they can make you feel utterly relaxed and open to all kind of good opportunities for everything else. Marvelous moments of revelation and intimacy can be found wedged in hideous upholstery. The knitting ge...

...is "Oh. What sexy pots ." And don't say I didn't tell you first. On the subject of madasscrazysexy, why did no one tell me about the long-discontinued UK Discovery Channel's Mongrel Nation ? Here, see for yourself: Patently Absurd YouTube Link Unless You Have Something Better To Do . Mindy ? Darling? You are to warn me if Izzard does anything in the UK that might warrant my immediate attention, including his maybe, say post-drinking binge, advertising for a Broad with experience in buttoning up Blokes in Dresses. I might know someone. Pay ya off in Crystal Delight, I swear. Dyeing Genius Wollmeise has a blog . She just completed a series of yarn based on artists.

... and the Niece has a blog . And, yeah, the guy with the face ? That'd be my older brother Mark. I call him "Monkeyboy". We don't get on much.

Fillup Munkee now has his own show on bliptv !! Great happy burst of Joyous squeeing. All this from having someone shake a stuffed monkey in a toque at me. Whoever you are, oh thank you. Thinking of streaming media and monkeys: Years and years ago The Steven and I once had a great smashing loooov-lehy crush on an Australian streaming media DJ by the unlikely name of Cleo Glyde. She was red-headed, wore outrageous outfits and big glasses and knew what klezmer punk was. Huge Style. Great Fun. When she was online during her show which was usually in the US afternoon, we'd chat her up via IM and she'd play obscure Tom Waits and put on vicious little shows for the camera using whatever toys the studio had lying about. To me, she was beautiful just because she was silly and charming. For all her outrageous worldly glamour being unleashed in that startup studio basement she was streaming from, she had not heard of sock monkeys. We were shocked. Shocked . Didn't the original ...

The Steven had a craving for pancakes this morning. I mixed him up some batter from Mark Bittman's book but wasn't long until he lost interest and accused me of voodoo hexing his flapjack attempts. So Madame Leiderhosen took over the spatula, creating the Garfield Pancake: Thank you very much. I'll be here all week. For those readers who have doubted the existence of Fred The All-Knowing, All-Fashion-Critical Hummingbird, have some proof of the little *#%@!!!: Ya know, he just looks like a full 2 grams of little sonofabitch, some kind of evil reincarnation of Edith Head. And he makes sounds like an unsatisfied washer/rubber combination that is enough to make one go back in the house and tidy one's hair a bit more and think twice about lipliner. Jerk. Spinning has been going pretty well so here are some bragging photos: Other than that, I can't say much more is new. I am dreading the work week Maybe I ought to put Garfield up on Ebay and retire to some sun-drenched...

It was a long and awful week. Once again, at the end of the day I think I've let something leak out of my mouth that was less than productive and maybe a little harmful. So now I sit here in my bathrobe, torturing myself by playing over some unfortunate possible consequences. Thanks for all the advice on getting myself to sleep. I still awake up startled at 2:00 AM every single night but at least now there are scenarios that reset me back to a peaceful state. So the niece and I have finally met; Jules was nice enough to force the introduction last weekend, complete with rocking chair and a sheet children song lyrics. Like all good things we started with Sam Cooke, moved on through contemporary musicals (no Sondheim!) with a layover in Wizard of Oz and a few spirituals and then onto "The Green Grass Grows All Around". We ended up with a rousing "99 Bottles of Beer". Taite Olivia dozed through the whole thing. Good sport, that one. Oly smells really nice. My paren...