My Life as a Covergirl

Weeeellll… I’ve come down with a case of laryngitis. You can imagine Drew’s delight. He’s been exceptionally chipper all day long and whenever I try to say something he shouts “WHAT?!” like Dave Chapelle doing Lil John. He’s a fucker.

Although truthfully I don’t mind it that much myself. It’s a bit of a relief to have an excuse to be quiet, and I did get to leave work a few hours early today. My favorite channel TCM is showing nonstop black and white scary movies, all the good ones, which is highly comforting after this week’s not-yet-finished but incredibly terrifying technicolor rhinestone trip down the rabbit hole that is Patricia Field during Halloween season.

Seriously folks, I’m going to do a plug here: if you are in NY and in the market for a costume, go visit the store, if only for sheer entertainment’s sake. And tomorrow I’m going in early to mark the costumes down, so if you’ve been remiss in getting something now’s the time.

I try to stay out of the way of the customers as much as I can, because, well, let’s face it, I am not a real people person. But occasionally during this time of year when much of it is about the lingerie department (my domain), I’ll spend some time on the floor yelling at the kids that they don’t know how to tie a corset and running up and down the stairs finding shoe sizes.

So yesterday I found a very pretty Jamaican girl, not older than 20 or 21, with her mother in the lingerie section and looking confused. I asked the girl what she wanted to be for Halloween and she said, “I’m having a party and I need a costume.”

So I gamely said, “Okay. How do you envision yourself?”
Her: “It’s a half-naked party.”
Me: “All righty. How naked? Like panty and bra naked? Corset and ruffle panty? Slip?”

She pulls out a flyer for a club and on it is a photo of a bodacious black woman in a g-string and nothing else.

Me: “Oookay… Well, we’ve got plenty of g-strings. What color would you like?”
The Mother: “Tha gerl is pregnant! She can’t be wearin’ no g-string.”
The Girl (rolling her eyes): “Do you have anything that will cover my belly?”
Me: “Hmm…So a high waisted girdle panty perhaps?”

So I dig out a bunch of girdle panties and trot them into the dressing room. And of course run to the front desk to gossip about the pregnant maybe teenage girl with her mom in the dressing room getting ready for the big naked party. Because I’m good like that. I’ll gossip about you before you’ve even left the building.

By the time I got back she had chosen a panty and also found a pair of pink butterfly pasties which didn’t fully cover her large nipples on her very large breasts. On the up side, the mother had found a beaded drapey choker to go with the whole thing.

Girl (holding the pasties over her nipples and assessing the mirror: “Do I look pregnant?”
Mother: “Gerl. You ARE pregnant and everybody already knows.”
Me: “Ah…that necklace looks fabulous.”
Girl: “I don’ like it.”
Mother: “You need to be wearin’ sometin beside a panty! This makes it classy!”
Me: “Yes, it does make it look more like an actual costume.”
Mother: “See! Otherwise it’s just de panty and dose silly little butterflies.”
Girl: “I don’ like it.
Me: “It’s very Josephine Baker.”
(Girl looks at me blankly)
Me: “You know…famous performer in the 20’s and 30’s, very erotic, appeared almost naked, broke down all kinds of walls for black women…”
(Girl looks at me blankly)
Me: “Banana dance?”
(Girl looks bored)
Mother: “I know who Josephine Baker is. She don’ know nothin’. Look at her, she’s pregnant and naked. Now lets just get the panties and the necklace and get outta here…”
Girl: “I’m goin’ to need some stockin’s.”
Me: “I’m on it…”

Today a girl wandered in front of me in a long red sequinned gown and said, “Who can I be?”
I croaked out through the laryngitis, “Jessica Rabbit, of course!”
She said: “Who’s that?”
Me: “Jessica Rabbit. Roger Rabbit’s wife? Sexiest cartoon character ever?”
(Girl looks at me blankly)
Me: “You know, long red hair, long red dress, totally hot?”
(Girl looks confused but perks up when she hears the word “hot”)
Me (sighing): “Like Kim Kardashian, but with red hair and a brain.”
Girl (flash of recognition in her eyes): “Oh. Cool!”

And that’s about the time I decided that I didn’t want to try to talk anymore and it was time to go home to overeat pasta and watch Val Lewton movies with the pets.

This is my life as a covergirl. Pray for me tomorrow.

Thank you!

Thank you, thank you everyone for the lovely birthday messages. I have the nicest friends on the planet. And a GIANT hug thank you to the friends who came out on Thursday, you are the real deal. I have a super cool new Joey Ramone doll, a bottle of jack, t-shirts, a ton of expensive chocolate (eating one now!) a beautiful pendant, a gorgeous scarf, and a Pez dispenser full of…erm…not Pez! Woo hoo! You guys rawk and I really appreciate it.

Drew made me promise not to blog some really funny bits (protecting the not so innocent), so I’ll just leave you with the text aftermath:


“I just woke up with a peanut/hummus sandwich beside me. Peanut/hummus! Wtf?”

“I woke up today and the dog had clothes on, Elle crashed over, and blocks of cheese were spread around my kitchen.”

“I never do tequila again.” (Japanese)


“I have no idea who that was and I don’t remember getting home. Do you think I had sex with him in the bathroom? What time did I leave?”

“I love you. I’m so goddamn hungover.”


I am not necessarily advocating getting trashed, yesterday evening in my hungover state I watched Celebrity Rehab and every time I see Steven Adler I want to move back to Michigan, go on a raw food diet and never touch alcohol again. But it’s nice to know that my friends had fun, which was really the point. And I like mixing it up–my swishy co-worker Sushi in a tiny hat (yes Tommy, my life is still being ruled by tiny hats, it’s some weird past life curse) making friends take his photo with a Hells Angel, members of Drew’s various bands all eyeing each other up suspiciously, and the hot girls I work with assessing the male population from their back table vantage point. It’s people stew. The fashion gays I work with hated every awesome rock tune that Poker Chris spun and that brought me great joy because those prissy ladies torture me all day long with soul-crushing mash-ups and Madonna mixes. Queens of the Stone Age, bitches!

Although honestly, that’s become a term my Madonna-loving friend Paolo uses all too frequently–“How’s my favorite queen of the stone age, Myrtle?”…Sigh…well, at least if one must go down, she can go down having fun. Thanks, everyone!

Know of This

So Sarah Palin was found guilty of abusing power this week. Really? But she seems so gosh darn likeable, with all that winking and mavericking and shooting orphaned baby wolves in the head (WILDLIFE DEFENDERS), doesn’t she?

And McCain just crabbed it up royally during that last debate. I felt like I was watching someone’s angry dad. A man angry that the position that he very obviously feels should be his legacy may go to a younger man, a black man, a man who hasn’t served in a war, a man who appears to want to make changes that Mr. McCain does not feel comfortable witnessing.

So now that it actually looks like the right guy might win, the McCain/Palin camp are just throwing all kinds of muddy shit at Obama hoping that something sticks. If it weren’t so creepy it might be enjoyable to watch them flail. Although I’m so terrified of the blindness in this country that I’m definitely not counting my chickens before they’re duly tallied and not stolen out from underneath their proper owner, as with certain elections of the past. Although to be fair McCain, though crankier, does seem less criminal than W.

Our money system is in complete meltdown, causing other parts of the world to melt down, causing people to question the way things have been and what they should be, forcing people to make changes in their lives, damaging people that just want to live ordinary lives. Meanwhile the corporate creeps that are supposed to be guiding to safety the mega corps they’ve beached are taking the taxes we paid dearly out of our much smaller paychecks to go on week long luxury spa vacations. Vacations that most of us can only dream about and would never dream of stealing to get.

I get the feeling they just don’t know any other way to live. They’re so buried in their own entitlement that they really don’t see why we should begrudge $440,000 worth of Calgon taking them away from all this icky reality for a short while. I am under the suspicion that most villains don’t see themselves as villainous. They just don’t wanna share.

And while our manmade issues cause us to wring our hands, our planet shrugs us off in increasing numbers with her giant hurricane sneezes. We are a nasty virus with our overconsumption and drilling and plastic water bottles and landfills and rainforest raping. Whether Cutesy Palin wants to admit it or not, global warming is upon us and unless we make changes in that direction we will be shrugged off of the earth completely. And who can blame her for wanting to shake us?

In the meantime, for the last couple of years my mother and her rowdy gang of new age channelers, psychics, and all around semi-loonies have been predicting the great shift of 2012. I usually believe what my mother tells me, whenever I ask her to check in with the guides for me I invariably get an answer that makes sense. Though my siblings and I do crack a few jokes at her expense, especially when it comes to aliens. I have dubbed her special brand of information dissemination “Momaganda”. And sometimes we snicker and tell her a cloud is just a cloud and they can’t ALL be camouflaged spaceships (sorry, Mom). But for the most part I know she’s on to some deep truths and I’m so grateful that I have someone close that’s paying attention to this shit.

So my mother told me the people that choose to remain here would be doing a lot of clearing of old energy, and I have done plenty of that, at times feeling that I was completely losing my mind, other times feeling the lightness of freeing myself from old wounds and fears that I no longer need to carry.

She told me that some of my friends would choose to leave if they felt they weren’t ready for what was coming to us on this plane. And indeed, some of my friends have left lately, in most strange and unexpected ways they have just opted out.

Many of the channels she sends me state that we are at the end of the old days, the old ways, just not in the way the God hates fags bible thumpers have lusted after so greedily. There is no lake of fire swallowing us up for our evil acts, at least not yet. But we are very obviously at the end of something.

Although I have been very excited about the idea of a great shift into a higher way of life, I have also been afraid to get too fully immersed for fear of creating some magical fantasy future that will only disappoint me with its non-appearance. Plus, along with the hopeful information, many of those channeling websites come with goofy hippie ladies playing awful new age music in the background. And way too many channelers use an Irish accent for their other entity for my comfort. How can so many otherworldy guides be of Irish descent, when most of the Irish people I am friendly with are cheerfully, but completely out of their fucking minds? So both of these items make me skeptical at times. But, the evidence has become irrefutable, just take a look at the news. We are indeed in the middle of a shift of epic proportions, and whether you have spiritual beliefs or not, the shit is going down.

I have been told many times that part of my contract in this lifetime is to bring deep information to people who would not ordinarily pay attention to its standard messengers. In other words, I am (most humbly) one of the connects between our little rock and roll subculture (or what is left of it) and the new age crew and their crappy music but important information. So I read the channels my mother sends me and weigh out what I feel moves me enough to share with you, and what is better kept to myself and left for others to discover on their own. Most of the time I feel that I am not well-informed enough to speak about either politics OR the shift. I’ve simply been more vocal about politics lately because it’s so dramatic I can’t help myself.

This week I’ve felt very deeply that the predictions are shoring up with what is upon us. So here are some links…

First, a long channel that is chock full of interesting thoughts brought by someone who I believe claims in there somewhere to have listened in on some important meetings while in the shape of a cat. Woo hoo! Bring it on!


This woman does regular “energy alerts” that can tell you what’s going on around you in the present. She’s very good, just turn the sound down:


For those of you who haven’t heard, there are many predictions about an alien flyover on Tuesday, October 14. This is the most prominent one. Yes, yes, I know the channeler’s name is Blossom Goodchild. And yes, I do believe there’s a good chance that Blossom is out of her good gourd. But on the off chance that she’s not, at least you’ll be ready on Tuesday.


Okay, that’s it. Take it or leave it as you see fit. And for today’s palate cleanser, here’s a little Diamond Dave. Anyone who thinks Sammy Hagar is a better frontman can kiss my new age ass…

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