David Lynch vs. The Korean Bagel Lady

Since I can't spend all my time watching news bloopers on YouTube and wondering why I'm still in fourth place on Blog Interviewer, I decided to watch a film this afternoon, David Lynch's Inland Empire. Following that, I decided to audio blog about it*.

Look! Over there! On my sidebar! It's my voice telling you in under 60 seconds all you need to know about my afternoon. I didn't think too much about it before recording it so go easy on me.

Since it's such a short piece, you'll still have time to click that voting button one more time right here. (Thanks for voting for me at all! I appreciate it).

*This is not a real review. Had this been a real review, you would have been given instructions on how to feel about the film. Thank you.

**I guess once you do a new audio thingy, it replaces the old one. If I ever figure out how that all works, or if I even try, I'll put it up again.


As Seen On TRV

I'll be the master of my own demise. After the Korean Bagel lady called me "dumbass" the other day, I mentioned it to a co-worker.

Later in the day, I went for coffee and the bagel lady said "You tell your friend I call you dumbass? She come here and say you call Dale (she pronounces my name more like Daire) a dumbass. So, you tell everybody?"

"Um, no, just her" I lied sheepishly.

"No I think I see it on terevision, you told the world...dumbass".

Her cackling this time rivalled anything the Wicked Witch ever produced. I made my retreat but with free coffee for my troubles.

I think she likes the idea of being thought a badass.


Reach Out And Touch

I was talking to my Mom last night as it was her 77th birthday.

She told me that one of my sisters will be taking her to see Michael Buble when he hits her town in February. She asked my sister to see if she can get front row seats because she'd like to touch him.

I'm not sure what her regular boyfriend Jesus will think about that but my Dad's probably okay with it.

Sticks and Stones

My relationship with the Korean Bagel Lady has reached dizzying new heights and that’s not just the caffeine talking.

I was there with a friend the other day and adding my usual milk and sugar to the coffee when the Korean bagel lady started nattering at us. When we were finished not understanding each other, I turned to my friend and asked “Did I put sugar in this already?”

The bagel lady didn’t miss a beat - “Dumbass!” she called out and went back to wiping the counter.

At this point people will say we’re in love and there might be something to it. Her coffee sucks.


A Modest Proposal

As some of you know, my singular mission of late has been to crack my way into the elite Top 3 of vote getters on Blog Interviewer this month. To anyone who has voted already, thank you. If you've voted more than once, thank you thank you.

While I'd made no firm decision on how best to spend the possible winnings of $25, 15 or 10, a few things had crossed my mind. Initially I thought I'd buy y'all some Kool Aid but then after my recent post on Jonestown, I wondered if there would be trust issues.

Then I thought I might pay Beckeye off so she wouldn't share those naked photos of me and Splotchy that she purports to have. This went out the window after she published her manifesto on how she aims to dethrone me and well, I’m still sobbing.

After reading the post Tenacious S did on how gratifying it was to sponsor a child through Children International and then reading Lulu's post about the overwhelming enormity of Calcutta's poverty she recently witnessed first hand, I hatched a more devious plan.

If you vote me into the Top 3 thumbs uppers on Blog Interviewer, I'll donate $100 to a charity that you can help me pick.

If you get Bubs, Splotchy, Barbara or Beckeye into the Top 3 with me, I'll double it and personally hand over $25 to Beckeye next week when I see her (you know, for the photos, or drinks).

All this is made possible by the fact that I’ve finally unloaded that yacht I haven't really been using or my income tax cheque finally arrived. If none of this goes according to plan, I'll be writing to each and every child not yet adopted by Mia Farrow, Rosie, Madonna, Mary Louise Parker, and Brad and Angelina to let them know that while I still heart them, others have let them down.

Feel free to suggest a charity. A few I've been thinking about are Children International, World Vision, Habitat For Humanity and Doctors Without Borders. All do good work and from what I can tell also manage to be fiscally responsible.

You can vote once every 24 hours:

Vote for Dale

Vote for Beckeye

Vote for Splotchy

Vote for Barbara

Vote for Bubs

Don't make me go postal (with those letters to the kids).


Death Comes Ripping!

Splotchy, creator of the most excellent Green Monkey Music Project, allowed me to participate in Volume 6 of the series Can't Wait For Halloween! I hope I didn't botch the theme too badly and can explain what spurred me to submit these songs.

The rule this time out was that the songs were to have at least a tenuous connection to Halloween or be spooky in some way.

You can download my selections and those of the other participants here.

1. The Misfits - Death Comes Ripping

For The Misfits, every day is Halloween! For 30 years and through numerous personnel changes, their aggressive punk melodies have endured and inspired countless bands. I chose this one because not only does it bring to mind the band's horror movie fascination but the tone and lyrics remind me that there's a reason I worry about all those scary monsters and super creeps out there. They'll be in New York City on October 31st if you dare.

2. Grant Willard Conspiracy - The Ghost of the Girl in the Well

Is it too precious to describe a song meant for a Halloween mix as haunting? While I don't know a lot about the band other than that they're difficult to categorize and I like what I've heard, this song, featuring Kristin Hersh on back up moodiness, sets a tone that's hard to shake.

3. Siouxsie and the Banshees - Peekaboo

Ghoulish yet sexy, Siouxsie Sioux's been scaring me for years. I saw her in a double bill with Julian Cope years ago and she was mesmerizing. Most of the songs from 1988's Peepshow could have found a place on this list but this one gives me a sense of dread that makes me unsure whether I want to watch her or I want her to watch me. Boo!

4. Bjork - Play Dead

My favourite alien Bjork dishes up some otherworldly howling in a song that for me expresses the torture and embrace of pain that your fevered brain might know how to express but you never could. If she ever stops singing, she could open a costume store and make a fortune. Another of my favourite concert going experiences.

5. Richard Shindell - Are You Happy Now?

Not your standard somebody done me wrong song, this funny and bittersweet tale of a lover running out on a relationship on Halloween gets me every time. I probably shouldn't but I smile and feel happy when it comes on. The lyrics are so damned poignant and real. I wonder who it was that tricked poor Richard.
Thanks for letting me play Splotchy!


Damn It Jim!

I can't entirely blame Jacy for this post but would my mind be whirring so if it wasn't for her blog name (Reject The Kool Aid)? Probably, yes.

Kool Aid - ah, how you helped fuel those sugary summer days of my childhood and let me freeze you in ice cube trays for later chipping away at. And of course, how can I forget the mass murder / suicide connotation?

Jonestown. 1978. Some 900 followers of the Reverend Jim Jones ended up drinking Grape flavoured Kool Aid and following him to their deaths.

Not long ago, The Hour's George Stromboulopoulos sat down with the Reverend's son Stephan who was away with the basketball team while the horror unfolded. He talks about how he wanted to kill his father and his life then and now. The interview is a fascinating insider's look into a terrible event. The video is here.


Jacy and the Sunshine Band

Jacy helps run a blog called Reject The Kool Aid that takes aim at a number of things like the much maligned Crocs sandals phenomenon, invisible deodorant and the art of falling apart. When mommy bloggers cry out for help, Jacy and Tearfree answer the call but then quickly hang up and start writing.

While she may hold the land email speed record for replying to my interview questions, Jacy had to wait until I got around to posting them; I'm lazy and let's face it, we can't all be her. Here are my questions and her answers.

1. Your current avatar is Elizabeth Montgomery who famously played a witch with a twitching problem and Lizzie Borden, someone with an axe to grind. Prior to that, you were poor Charo, meethundertood only when she spoke. I applaud your championing of the disabled but if you were to choose a male celebrity avatar to represent you, who would it be and why?

There are so many male celebrities I would choose as avatars -- and still might -- that I could go on and on. But here's just a start: Don Rickles. Paul Lynde. Charles Nelson Reilly. Burt Reynolds in his Cosmo pose. Flip Wilson. All of them would be chosen for their camp factor. Don Rickles? No one more insultingly funny. Paul Lynde? Uncle Arthur was such a deliciously snide little bitch on Bewitched. Charles Nelson Reilly really made the Match Game. Burt Reynolds turned me onto hairy-chested men at a disturbingly young age -- eight! And Flip Wilson for Geraldine alone.

2. Reading your post about dating and the description of the Steve Lawrence guy, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry so I did both. If Steve had thrown in Eydie Gorme, would that have sweetened the deal at all? What other celebrity twosome would you 'date' if you could?

You know, that arse Steve Lawrence wooed and wooed me and then dropped off the face of the Earth all of a sudden after telling me he was getting theatre tickets for us and would call in a couple of days. I actually think he WAS married! So this is a fitting question. Okay -- definitely NOT Brangelina. But most certainly Seal and Heidi Klum, Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick, Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman, Mark Ruffalo and his French wife, Ewan McGregor and his French wife, Johnny Depp and HIS French wife, and George Clooney and whatever skinny skanky lingerie model he's dating right now.

3. You're the only person I've ever seen adapt the magical word Schadefreude and you did it in relation to that cringeminge Paris Hilton, bone-us points! Are there any words that you cannot abide? Disqualified are 'panties' or the 'c' word (woefully underused I think).

I love the C-word and think it should be much more widely used but RTK is a family blog. My girlfriends and I actually call one another: C**ty C**t. As in: "Hello, C**ty C**t." Or: "Don't be such a c**ty c**t." There are very few swear words that I don't like, in fact, although I cannot abide the word "pussy" to describe the ladyparts -- so porny. What I hate these days are things like LOL, RFMLFAO or whatever the hell that is -- all those made-up Internet acronymns that you are actually hearing people use in speech. I hate some expressions these days more than I hate the actual words, and some of them seem to stem from the Net. Here's a new one that I cannot abide: True dat. As in: "That Paris Hilton -- she is the biggest skank in Skankville." Reply: "True dat." Huh??!?? Do you mean "I agree?" And I hate when people make up words to express emotion in their writing: like Gaaaa! or Arrrgggghhh! or even Phew!!!! Laziness!

4. The google ads at the bottom of your blog right now include one for Bald Women. If you were bald (are you?) and had to choose between rocking the look or consigning yourself to wearing hats, which would it be? In a related vein, would you let Carmindy from What Not To Wear anywhere near your face with her makeup palette? She does a mean smoky eye I hear.

I would no sooner walk around bald than I'd walk around naked. Hats, wigs, weaves, plugs, etc. -- I'd do it all. I really pity men who lose their hair. As for Carmindy: That is a serious fantasy of mine because at my age, I am really not sure if I can get away with the smoky eye anymore. And I desperately need red lipstick advice because it's back in but I have full lips and look like a blow-up doll when I wear it. Carmindy is the Makeup Goddess, although I am tired of her pushing the Crest Whitestrips on everyone these days due to product placement requirements.

5. This is the part where I offer unsolicited advice to you free of charge Jacy: 1) Read my blog every day and 2) if you do go for the nose job, remember to donate the extra bits to the homeless, they like to feel pretty too. Your friends seem to thrive by making comments and providing advice on life and how to live it. I'm guessing your shrink does the same thing. Which is the costlier proposition?

I actually do check your blog every day and you are a lovely writer! As for advice, yes, I get lots, both professional and non-professional, and I desperately need it. I am quite lost and fractured since the split -- I actually posted a picture of my knockers in a bra in a deranged moment of bitterness about my ex and his erstwhile love of my hooters -- and then knocked it down because it seemed so wrong. God!! I hope Jennifer Aniston is reading this right now and soon posts a comment to your blog that says: "I've been a fan of Jacy's for years. Her goodness just emanates from her, and I just love how much she's doing for the spinning movement around the world. I love her! May she pedal towards a lifetime of happiness on her Schwinn spin bike!"

I'm sure Jen will at least send me an email Jacy as she doesn't often comment out in the open like that. Thanks for taking the time to sit down without me and crack these nuts open.


Fire House

A few nights ago while on the back deck reading John Waters' Shock Value (A Tasteful Book About Bad Taste) , it must have been more than God could resist. Out stepped my neighbor Honeypot in a halter top and shorts and she quickly set to work building a fire.

It seemed fitting (unlike her apparel) that not only was it the warmest day we'd had in a while but that the the big news of the day was the mayhem being caused by a five alarm fire raging in the city.

I ignored her as best I could until I heard someone calling out "Hey, want some wood?". No, it wasn't a new paramour for our Honeypot but the neighbor on the other side of her fence. "I've just cut up a bunch of wood and you could have some for your fire!" he said a little too excitedly. "Sure, that'd be great", she answered, her cottage cheese thighs quivering in antici.......well, you get it.

Woody lives with his mother, an ever intriguing prospect when you're over the age of 40 and have your own wagon that you still pull around town. He poked his head around the back end of the lattice topping the fence that usually separates them and began handing over freshly cut wood. I've little doubt he's clearing away some of the forestation in his back yard to prepare a plot for his mother's final resting place although it could just be that he wants a better view of Honeypot's Emporium.

As the flames threatened to lick the leaves of the innocent willow tree trying to enjoy the last blush of summer, they chatted, she adjusted her halter and I went in to check my fire extinguisher.

Oddfellows Local 151 mp3 - R.E.M.


I Can See Clearly Now

This morning, the fog was thicker than that time at Antonio Bay. Walking through it, I felt that vague sense of unease that anything could happen and I'd probably be ill prepared to deal with it.

It was so thick that as I approached the station, you couldn’t even see the train.
The train wasn’t there yet, but still!


True Colours

After not winning on the red, green or any other carpet last night for my daringly casual Emmy attire, I wandered through a parking lot today wondering what would become of me.

I hoped for a sign and then, there it was. A sign. It looked like a standard "The management is not responsible..." sign until I read on.

The management is not responsible for any theft, damage, or loss of personal property, howsoever it may occur.

I enjoy it when I come across a word I've never seen before; this find ranks right up there with the egress sign I spotted a while back. I'm really not that hard to please.

The plan now is to try and work the word into casual conversation at least once before I die, howsoever that may occur.



A lesser mortal might worry about the fall out but not me.

Damn the consequences, I'm wearing the same pyjama pants (Old Navy) as I did for the Emmys last year.

No pictures, please.


Fill Me In

See this area right in here? The doctors say they can't find a thing.

Vote for me and help fill my brain.


A Tale of Two Ladies

Going to the bagel and coffee joint in my office building is an exercise in character building. If my Korean bagel lady owner is there, she gets to insult me, I pay her for the pleasure and everyone ends up with a measure of satisfaction.

The other day, as I approached, the owner was busy frowning into her portable phone and so I was served by the other lady with the neckerchief (who likes old men).

Hallow sir, howa youuuu? You wan bagel? Yes, a cheese bagel please. Okaaaaay sir! She gave me a big smile and got to work.

While my treat was toasting, a woman came up to the counter and Necky Neckerchief greeted her: Hallow sir, howa youuuu? You wan bagel?

I smirked at her mistake just as the owner was releasing her stranglehold on the phone. You in good mood today. I sheepishly told her I was a penny short and she said No problem Mr. Big Shot, you have penny for free since you so happy today. I said thanks and she said something else I didn't understand. I nodded yes and smiled, a familiar dance step with me and this lady.

At lunchtime, I was in line at a different sandwich place waiting to pay when the bagel shop owner stepped up beside me and said Oh I thought you were broken, how you pay now? I hate to see you die from no eat! Eat more salad! and she laughed. I told her I wasn't broken yet but she should keep trying! She laughed like we were having the same conversation and shuffled away.

The next day walking past the bagel shop, I heard Necky call out to another female customer: Hallow sir, howa youuuu? You wan bagel? I'm glad it wasn't just a one-off.

Two Ladies mp3 - Alan Cumming (Cabaret)


A Sticky Situation

A lot of heartache and misery in this world might be avoided if people would simply make an effort to listen when someone needs it. Whether it’s something that’s important to you or not, there isn’t much effort required to actively listen for a moment and give someone the validation that what they think matters.

Today, a co-worker had mentioned she had lunch plans for 12:00 noon. This sounded nice and I said so. Her desk is very near mine and so at 11:55 I called out “Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” “What?” “I SAID shouldn’t you be gone by now?”

She walked over and dropped a pack of gum on my desk with a “There you go” and went on her way.

Now how's that supposed to make me feel?


Pick Flick

I was just attacked by the same blog interviewer as Splotchy, Barbara and Beckeye and let me tell you, it hurt so good. It's always nice to get the chance to talk about yourself because that just never happens in the blog world.

Here comes the awkward -- you can vote daily for the chance to let Splotchy, Barbara, Beckeye or me win piles of cash ($25, 15 or 10) but really, why would you even consider voting for them? None of them has promised to put a cake in everyone's Easy Bake have they? Have I? Well, never mind.

If you really loved me, you'd vote for me, and then you'd get that hair cut.

What Have You Come As?

Is there anything better than having a Monday off work? Yes, of course there is, but it's still pretty damned sweet.

I've spent my 'extra' day doing very important things like spying on my neighbors, leafing through the Hammacher Schlemmer catalogue wondering if I should order the animatronic singing and talking Elvis (a bargain at $299.95), and catching up on all the interesting television I've recorded.

My treat du jour was from the venerable BBC but aired on Bravo. Kombat Opera Presents is a quirky show that parodies television shows in a comedic operatic style. These are the same folks behind the acclaimed Jerry Springer: The Opera.

The episode I caught was a parody of The Apprentice complete with an arrogant Trump-like blowhard charging the poor apprenti with designing new costumes for the Church of England.
It was pretty hilarious and they easily packed more entertainment into 30 minutes than Donald and his minions did in six whole seasons. The only good parts of the real show were of course, Donald's hair and occasional glimpses of the beautiful Malaria.

It's probably a good time for me now to have a nap, an absolute essential when you're as lazy as I am. Directly following, I plan to continue wondering why the brilliantly funny Australian show Kath & Kim doesn't air here.

It follows the travails of a mother and daughter team blissfully unaware of their own trashiness. How could you not love the sexy Kim showing off her cultural awareness with the prounoucement that she likes drinking Cardonnay, the h is silent, it's French! or Kath referring to her husband Kel, Purveyor of Fine Meats, as a great hunk of spunk?

Perhaps it's not as funny in print and without the Aussie accents but that's alright, I don't mind reliving it in my head.

After all this strenuous wondering, I'll no doubt feel like another nap after which I'll brush my hair one hundred times just like Donald does every night and then head for bed.

Don't hate me for having a day off, I can give you several other good reasons.


Stevie Joe Said So

As a good (North) American, I feel it is my duty to draw attention to the 3 minute Wage Peace Movie I first read about at the worthwhile Stevie Joe Parker's Guide To Life. His post on the matter is here.


Quelle Sopracciglia

In memory of Luciano Pavarotti, may I send you here to my thoughts on him so many months ago and the aftermath. He was a powerful man.

My favourite story about him today arrived courtesy of The Age and involves the wondrous Joan Sutherland.

Resto nella pace Luciano.


Was That Really Necessary?

Today I saw a Smart car being towed down the street.

Could they not have just picked it up and put it on a key ring? Or popped it in a mailbox?


Cottage Life

This morning I rose to meet the sun. Before it had a chance to warm me, the coffee did, its swirls of steam vainly trying to echo the mist on the river. I sat on the dock and saw myself reflected, not in the water, but in the quiet.