One night this summer, out of sheer curiosity, I found myself on one of those sex offender database websites, where I discovered there's a rapist living on my block. He showed up as a big yellow dot on the map, because yellow dots are for rapists, while other colors represent different crimes, and when viewed from the right distance New York City looks like a giant Twister board of deviants. (Left foot, child molester - spin again.) If you click on a dot, it brings up a nifty list of stats on each criminal and their crimes, complete with a profile picture, like the world's worst dating site. I was surprised there was only one convicted pervert in my area, because there were some neighborhoods where the map looked like a fucking Jackson Pollock painting. They were everywhere. And rooming together like models, apparently.
Welcome to Brooklyn.
Anyway, my neighborhood rapist is a middle-aged Asian man with a lazy eye who lives in the building next door. I don't recall ever seeing him on the street, but maybe he's shy when he's not raping people. The sad thing is that he's nowhere near the creepiest looking person in my neighborhood. Not by a long shot.
There's a little triangle of benches at the top of my block, situated around a thatch of uncut grass and a tree, and during the summer you can always find a group of men sitting there at night, drinking beer and talking. I've nicknamed it 'Murder Park' because every guy on those benches looks like a serial killer. An established serial killer, I mean. There's the Richard Ramirez guy, with his heavy metal t-shirts and crazy eyes, a Henry Lee Lucas lookalike with wild, uncombed hair, and the obligatory Jeffrey Dahmer clone in his wire-rimmed murder glasses. They are rounded out by a heavyset guy with long white hair and a full beard who looks like a deranged Santa Claus, ready to climb down your chimney and disembowel you for the holidays. I imagine they've bonded over their mutual creepiness and sit around all night discussing the best way to prepare human flesh burgers for the end of summer block party.
There's also a woman on my street that I'm pretty sure is a Terminator, but that's neither here nor there.
These are my neighbors. I have many locks.
I avoided social media. I neglected my blog. I took the summer off.
Instead, I had fun with my friends, wrote some stuff, read like 20 books, and watched all the TV shows I'd missed. Mostly, I just got back in touch with myself for a little while. I needed it. It was good.
But enough is enough. I want my blog back. And since I've been gone so long, it feels semi-private again. Just my own little space to be weird. I've missed it.
So, they announced that the next season of 'True Blood' will be the last, and while it's about time they put a bullet in that wounded horse, part of me is going to miss it. Back around season two, it was a really good show. Like in any flagging relationship, you hoped that it would somehow recapture it's former glory, but it never did. Now it's time to call it quits.
Still, I can't resist showing it a little love by listing my favorite characters, big and small, through the years. They're the reason I kept watching.
PAM - Hands down, the most awesome character on the show. If they did a spin-off with just Pam and Lafayette, I would watch the shit out of that show. Pam is exactly who I'd want to be if I were a vampire. Bitchy, brutally honest, and really into shoes. And unlike the other supernatural characters on the show, she has never mourned her humanity in any way. Pam loves being a vampire. She knows who she is, she's fine with it, and she has no time for your bullshit. I knew I loved Pam by her second appearance, when she showed up at Bill's house with sunglasses on top of her head. That's Pam. She owns the joke. I'll miss her the most.
Here's her best scene: With Lafayette, of course.
LORENA - I didn't actually like Lorena, I just enjoyed her insanity. She was the ex from hell. With fangs, a vicious temper, and zero remorse. She also really wanted to kill Sookie, which is always a plus.
But the main reason she's on the list is because of this scene: What to do when you run into your crappy ex
LAFAYETTE - Oh, La La. How they've wasted you the last few seasons. As the openly gay fry cook/medium/construction worker/drug dealer/internet porn star/gigolo, Lafayette has been the heart of this show from the beginning. Always listen to La La. He'll tell you the truth you don't want to hear. He's the wisest person on the show, and usually one of the funniest, thanks to his eye-roll reactions to all the craziness going on around him. He's damaged, but he's all heart. The medium/possession storyline they gave him went nowhere, but I guess they had to give him something. I just wish it was something better.
Here's his best scene: Held prisoner by the vampires
MARYANN - A lot of people hated Maryann, and I can't say I loved her character as much as her wacky 'Maenad of Destruction' storyline, but she definitely made season two a hoot and a half. With her bacchanal love for chaos and ecstasy, she made everyone in town crazy and the whole thing went so overboard that it was kind of amazing. At least she was interesting, which is more than I can say for later season bad guys. And believing yourself into an immortal has got to be the best use of The Secret I've seen yet. So she cut out a few hearts, is that really so bad? She just wanted to see her boyfriend, Dionysus. Alas, when you mess with the
Here's her best scene: Dying for her cause, in a wedding dress.
JASON - I hated Jason in season one, then he grew on me like crabgrass. Oversexed and underbrained, Jason is the ultimate sex idiot. You've got to hand it to Ryan Kwanten, not only does he supress his Australian accent and deliver a perfect Southern drawl, he also keeps a straight face while saying hilariously stupid things. (This season he asked a kidnapping victim if she had 'stockholder's syndrome'.) Jason's heart is in the right place, he's just too dumb to know exactly where that place is.
Here's his logic on display: Discussing the possibilities of shape shifting
My favorite Jason moment: Santa?
RUSSELL - An elder vampire driven mad by power and the loss of his centuries-long lover, Russell was a magnificent bastard. He had no interest in playing nice with the humans, or anyone else. He was vampire, he was insane, and he was hilarious.
Here's his best scene: Delivering the nightly news.
ERIC - Sigh. He definitely lost his sexy vampire mojo a few seasons back, when they made him all fluffy and kittenish, which sucked because Eric's whole appeal was that he was dangerous. A weird mix of scary and charming, he might just rip your throat out after he seduces you, but you're still totally willing to take the risk. He was eternally bored, coiled like a snake, and crazy hot. Not to mention, he sired Pam.
Here he is at his sexy best: Teacup humans and Pam being awesome
STEVE & SARAH NEWLIN - Oh, how I love the Newlins. Evangelical Christians who started their own vampire-hating church, The Fellowship Of The Sun, before recruiting a too-dumb-to-know-better Jason and kidnapping vampires brought them down in a pretty great way. They've faced their hard times - divorce, murder, and someone (brilliant) making Steve into a vampire - but they always came back strong.
Not to mention Steve won my heart forever by delivering the best line of season two to Sookie: "Honestly, what do they see in you?"
Here's Steve's best scene: His confession to Jason
Here's Sarah's best scene: Chick fighting
GINGER - I love Ginger. As the constantly terrified human waitress at Fangtasia, the vampire bar, she's seen more than her share of horrors. Too bad she can't remember any of them, because the vamps have glamoured away her memories so many times that she probably can't count to ten at this point. But her goofy charm and tendency to scream bloody murder whenever anyone gets within ten feet of her is always comic gold.
Here's her best screams: Because Ginger screams A LOT
Oh, 'True Blood'. It's been a long, weird road. I've been excited to watch you and ashamed to watch you. But we'll always have season two.
Rest in peace.
TWILIGHT: BREAKING DAWN, PART 1 - Mix recreational drug use, boredom, and the fact that I'll pretty much watch any piece of crap if it's on cable, and what you'll end up with is this review. So I apologize in advance and you're welcome, because this movie is as batshit crazy as I am.
For those not in the 'Twilight' know, the story centers around a teenage girl named Bella who meets and falls in love with a vampire named Edward. This might be exciting if either character were even slightly interesting or there was a drop of sexual chemistry between them, but it's like watching paint dry for five movies. They mostly just cuddle and talk about how in love they are in that annoying teen way (2-getha! 4-eva!) - and that's when I get bored and try to picture Edward looking his real age, which is like a hundred, just to amuse myself. That rotting corpse is dreamy! I love his milky eyes! This isn't weirdly pedo at all!
The only drawback to their insipid teen/corpse love is that other vampires keep trying to kill Bella because she's human and they're not down with 'Monster Fever' - or whatever they call it when vampires hook up with regular folk and break those crazy racial barriers. Turns out... vampires? Not that tolerant. Bella's always missing important school functions and lying to her parents because she's running or fearing for her life. Gee, wish I had a vampire boyfriend. Tweens are idiots.
Not to mention, Bella and Edward can't have sex. And the reason why is my favorite thing ever.
See, they get married in this one, so it's expected that they're finally going to the do the dirty interspecies deed, and everyone is really worried about it because Edward is vampire strong and it might be too much for poor human Bella. That's right, a major plot point of this film is that Edward might lose control and KILL HER WITH HIS VAMPIRE PENIS. It's discussed. At length. By multiple characters. And it's hilarious every time. Whenever poor Bella tries for a little premarital nookie, Edward just sighs and says, "You know we can't. I don't want to hurt you." And cue me laughing for five minutes because that's every guy's dream line.
This is the crap my niece was reading when she was eleven? Because that could be really confusing for a young girl. Basically, "A boy can kill you with his penis. It can happen. Sweet dreams now. Stay a virgin forever." Ugh. As if young girls aren't already scared of sex and imagining their first times as a mixture of agonizing pain and more blood than Carrie at the prom, so let's go ahead and add lethal genitalia to the mix. I mean, I read Flowers In The Attic when I was eleven, so I knew more about sibling incest than I ever needed to in this lifetime, but at least there were no homicidal penises involved. Times have changed.
Anyway, Bella and Edward get married and the vampire sex doesn't kill her, but she does get vampire pregnant. This is where I called bullshit on Stephenie Meyer and her whole fang-less vampire world. Anne Rice is rolling over in her coffin right now. (Not that she's dead, I'm just pretty sure Anne Rice sleeps in a coffin.) Meyer's vampires can live in daylight, just not direct sun because they're house plants or something, and they sparkle like disco balls. They attend high school (?) or have day jobs (vampire doctor!), refuse to drink human blood, and except for being really pale and climbing the fuck out of tree, they're basically human. And incredibly dull for supernatural beings. Still, whatever. I'll buy it. But vampire procreation? Come on. No wonder tweens love this stuff, Stephenie Meyer is obviously twelve years old. I fully expected Bella to give birth to a vampire unicorn.
Turns out the vampire baby is slowly killing Bella and when she goes into labor, Edward rips the baby out of her stomach with his teeth. I'm not kidding. It's shot in this weird, light flickering way where's she's screaming and he's at an all-you-can-eat placenta fest and you're just like, "What the HELL am I watching?" Then you remember. And you're ashamed.
There's also a bunch of stuff having to do with Jacob, Bella's werewolf ex-boyfriend (because she's only a gillman, mummy, and Frankenstein away from having dated the entire Monster Squad), but since the werewolves are ridiculous CGI cartoons that talk to each other in human voices, it's probably best not to mention them at all. Except for this weird scene where Jacob 'imprints' on the baby, meaning he knows in some psychic way that she's his future wife, which was very 'Japanese Geisha movie' and creepy. You made out with her mother, dude. Not cool.
It mercifully ends with Bella dead and being made vampire - which involves Edward injecting a tube of milky liquid he calls 'his venom' into her chest. Because guys are always trying to put their venom on women's chests. It's a thing. I had no idea it made you a vampire. Maybe Stephenie Meyer has a sense of humor after all.
Thanks to it's utter insanity, I didn't totally hate this movie. But I am a little worried about my niece.
ME: Going for drinks with the ex tonight.
MY SISTER: Thought he was history.
ME: We're friends.
MY SISTER: Your exes always come back around. Do you have magic in your vagina?
ME: No, just a bunch of scarves knotted together.
They are, Liz Lemon. They SO FUCKING ARE.
I read this book in one sitting. Couldn't put it down. Loved it.
SO MUCH TO SAY. Sadly, I find myself under the weather again this weekend with The Cold That Will Not Fucking Die, which is something like consumption except slightly less lethal and I'm pretty sure it's caused by exposure to the boy band 1 Direction. Because I was exposed to A LOT of 1 Direction this holiday season, thanks to my obsessed teen niece, and got sick almost immediately afterward. I'm sure there must be some connection, but my head hurts too much to figure it out. I'll leave that up to the boy band scientists.
Anyway, as you can clearly see, I am in no shape to post. Between cold medicine, my throbbing head, and my inability to sit upright for longer than five minutes, I'm pretty much useless right now. But I have a mountain of stuff to post about and once I'm feeling a little better again, I will.
See ya later.
A few years ago I worked on 19th Street, which meant that I had to take the 7 train to Times Square, then go up that crazy steep escalator to the 1/9 train, and take that down to 14th Street. This was an extremely boring commute, so I would always find little ways to spice it up. One involved a girl I saw most mornings on the 7 train. She was this stylish black chick about my age, but since everyone wears their 'New York Bitchface' on the subway, it wasn't like we ever talked to each other. She also took the train to Times Square, and like me, was always right at the door when we pulled into the station, ready to dash up that crazy steep escalator. Anyway, I started racing her. Like some urban Olympic event happening only in my head, I'd match her step for step and then try to beat her to the top of the escalator. And she was a formidable opponent, because I only won half the time. This went on for a couple of months, then one morning as we stood at the train doors, I said, "You know, I race you every day. You're good." She looked at me and burst out laughing, "I race you too! You're fast!"
And that's how I met my friend Mecca.
I got a Christmas tree, which I named Roscoe, at the Home Depot near my house. I know it's not as romantic as getting it from a lot, but last year I got a lot tree and paid $60 for the ambiance and left with a huge six foot tree that I had to drag back to my apartment and it was a fucking nightmare. Meanwhile, Home Depot had an amazing five foot tree and I spent $25. I still had to drag it home, however, because there are ZERO cabs outside of Home Depot, just a bunch of creepy guys offering to drive you home for $5 in their tinted-window vans. One guy approached me as I waited in line, asking if I needed a cab.
"Are you a cab, or just some guy with a van?" I asked.
"Oh, just some guy with a van."
"Thanks, but I'd prefer not to be murdered tonight."
Then he, joking I hope, said, "Nah, I probably wouldn't murder you."
Anyway, I got Roscoe home in one piece, but I haven't decorated him because I don't have a tree topper. That's not true. I do have a tree topper, but it's ridiculous. See, when I bought it last year, it was somehow face down in the box, and I thought it was just a white star that lit up. Classy, simple, perfect. Once I tore into the box, however, I found that my classy star was actually a hideous monstrosity of multi-colored-lights and wilted tinsel that blinked schizophrenically and made my tree look like a roadside taco stand. Of course I loved it immediately, and ran straight to the worst quality dollar store I could find to buy a basket full of cheesy Christmas balls and metallic beads, determined to have the white trashiest tree ever known to man. I believe I succeeded. But this year, I wanted to go in a different direction, so I need a new topper. I've been to three stores already, and all they have are angels. I've got nothing against angels, but they're these overblown painted dolls with red robes and gold everywhere and honestly, it's a little too 'Game Of Thrones' for me. I can't have a funky art-deco tree with some medieval-looking angel sitting on top of it. I'm just going make a damn star out of cardboard and tin foil, and you know what? It will probably rock.
*Holy crap the spelling errors in this post!! But it was 2am, so shoot me.