Thursday, April 30, 2009

Fascination Street

When we moved into our sweet little (bedbug infested) apartment in Williamsburg, our first order of business was to check out the local restaurants. Natch. We decided it would probably be best to take a walk a few blocks in either direction of our apartment. This was August of last year so there were people out in droves. As we walked to the right, the old men across the street noticed Matt's shock of red hair and immediately called out to him, "hey! you're the cable guy!" Matt, as always, graciously waved back, confirmed their assumption and we went on our way.

The first place we happened upon was a little diner called the Garden Grill. We popped in for a bite and it was instant mayhem. Here were more fans of the cable guy! Our meal was instantly that much more fun/hilarious as the man behind the counter (the owners son, we soon came to find out) tripped over himself at the thought that he was talking to the one and only cable guy. We enjoyed our meal, paid (what? no free food!?) and left, but not before the owners son got Matt's autograph and his website address promising he'd come to a show. Pretty nice!

The next time out of our apartment the old men were sitting outside again and, again, waved and shouted to Matt. This time there was a man on our side of the street yelling to an older, fatter man on the other side of the street. They had a good laugh, Matt kindly acknowledged them again and we decided this time to check out the diner directly across the street from us. The diner, we soon came to find out, that was frequented by a gaggle of old men. As we sat at the counter trying to enjoy our food, the largest, loudest of the old men carried on a conversation about Matt, but not including him in the convo. So it was stuff like, "I bet he gets bothered all the time! The Cable Guy! I bet he just wants to eat his food in silence! Why don't you fellas stop staring at him!" So... that was the last time we went there. Back to Garden Grill it was!

Every single time we go to the GG, the owner's son (the one on all the menus and the magnet which now decorates our fridge) says "hey! when are you performing! give me your website! CABLE GUY!!" to Matt and exactly ZILCH to me. Nothing. I can be standing IN FRONT of Matt and he'll still completely ignore me. Which, fine - I mean I get it. You are fascinated by someone who has been on your TV. Fine. But then one day as we were eating breakfast at GG, an older woman said, "are you the man from TV? Oooh I am going to tell my girlfriends I had breakfast with you! I mean, I know you have a..." and then she did one of those dismissive hand waves in my direction indicating that what she meant to say was "infectious disease." The nerve! And how do you respond to that? We both laughed a little - she laughed a lot.

Really, it's not a big deal that I'm ignored at Garden Grill. (I swear! Really! Why don't you believe me!!?) I just find it fascinating that to this day the oldies on our street are still completely in awe of having the cable guy on their block. I told Matt he should try and start a Ponzi scheme with their retirement money since they're so eager to be around him, and then he beat me with a sack of oranges for coming up with such a bad idea. Ahhh, true love!

This also just goes to show who Matt's target audience is: oldies. And gays. This didn't really prove my gay point, but trust me. The gay community is all over that red-headed god!

So the point is this: if you see a celebrity on the street, even if it's a man of commercial fame, say your bit to them and be on your way. I mean, I know older people have a pass because they're old and whatever, but it doesn't excuse common decency. And I know I'm going to sound a little bitter, but why not say hi to the person that they're with? What am I... I mean, ARE THEY... chopped liver??

Jadedly yours,


Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Glennis: The Meal

Every night, as I sleep, I am feasted upon. It's as if my apartment was a restaurant, my bed the plate and me the main course. All you can eat until dawn! (There's a very real possibility that I am feasted upon 2nd, Matt first, which would make me the dessert which, if we're being totally honest, is a little more accurate.)

I mean, I really can't blame the bed bugs for feasting on me. I am pretty delicious. Not that I'd know! But hey, who hasn't accidentally swallowed some of their own blood? From picking on a scab. On their knee. Don't judge me!!


Like I was saying - I really can't blame the bed bugs for feasting on me. And in some ways I'm very appreciative of the way they operate. For one thing, they wait until I'm fast asleep to feast which is very considerate! That way I don't have to know what's going on or feel the sting of the tiny creatures sucking the very life from my body. It's really very considerate. And I also have to give them props for not attacking my money maker! No, not my butt, pervs... my face. (Although sometimes my butt says stuff of higher quality than my face. I digress.) Not once have I had a bite on the kisser. So, really, I have to thank them for that as well.

I am, however, a little tired of the bites. I'm pretty allergic to them. And, though I appreciate the avoidance of my face, the bites on my feet - toes specifically - are pretty uncomfortable. As I type I have two on my toes, one on the top of my foot and one on the arch and another on my calf. Not very fun when wearing shoes, dear bedbugs!!

Now listen: I truly don't mind being a feast for any of god's creatures. If they didn't multiply so damn quickly and cause itchy, red welts I can't think of a reason I'd mind! As I said - I am pretty tasty. But, dammit, I am allergic and they do multiply and it's about time these fuckers were eradicated! And so we have a 2nd round of extermination coming in on Thursday to soak our pad with chemicals which give me a sore throat and a cough. That's gotta be healthy, right?

Now here's a very real fear that I must share with you. Bedbug ghosts. Do they exist? Will they haunt me for wiping out their family, who was probably brought into our home by us or someone we know and love? Will they carry teeny-tiny bedbug chains to haunt my attic (my hair)? Or will they try to learn to pick up a penny and then show up at my pottery wheel to make a vase with me? Are they going to hire a sassy black woman who speaks to the dead to come to my house and tell me, "ditto"? Does everyone get the movie I'm trying really hard to reference?!? No matter how cool a story it would make (which I'd tell if The Moth ever had a "Bedbug Haunting" themed night) I do not want.


But we're getting off the subject now. The point of this diatribe is that A) I am delicious, B) I need to stop picking my scabs and C) I am praying to whatever is out there that these bedbugs are wiped out. I feel bad, but hey. I canna take no more!

AH! AH HA! As I type this Matt found a bedbug on our curtain! Getting bolder are we, fuckers? Coming out in the daylight!? I SEE HOW IT IS.

Oh it is SO ON, you little bastards! This is war! I don't know what that means because there's not much more I can do aside from sleeping in a full berka but, hey, if that's what it takes to deprive you of your tasty Glennis platter then SO BE IT! Access: denied!

(Seriously, bedbugs suck so hard. Don't come over to my house. Or hug me. I will give you bedbugs. I'm disgusted with myself.)

Don't let the bedbugs bite! HAR HAR HAR.



Monday, April 27, 2009

Wedding Weekend Recap!

This past weekend my little sister, Kelsey, got married, you guys! Normally, I can't even finish that sentence before someone says, "you're next!" which is why I'm glad I'm writing this on my blog. No interruptions. Let's focus on the task at hand, people. One marriage at a time, thank you!

This wedding was, if I do say so myself, the best wedding I've ever been to. And it wasn't just because I was maid-of-honor, though that really did add to the overall awesomeness of the wedding. (I'm also available for hire even if I don't know you. I smell a movie plot!)

Leading up to the wedding, Kelsey and I had many a discussion about how dad might do. How long he'd last, if he'd get overwhelmed by the noises and people and general atmosphere. We planned on doing the father/daughter dance early in the evening and had our Aunt on stand-by to take him home when he seemed like he'd had enough. We also had a nurse with us from the home just in case he panicked or needed any sort of extra attention. We didn't at all expect him to be the life of the party!

Alzheimer's is a strange disease. Sometimes you forget that he's still in there and can understand a lot more than you think he can, especially in my dad's case, and that it might be a bunch of factors, in addition to the Alzheimer's, that are adding to his quiet nature. I think more than anything my dad remembers who he used to be, how smart and talented he was, and he hates that he isn't still able to communicate the way he wants to. It's hard to keep him in the present and help him to forget the embarrassment that goes along with the disease, but when you can accomplish that, let me tell you - it's amazing.

Dad knew exactly what was going on that day. The way he looked at Kelsey... it was beautiful. So much pride and joy and complete awe that this beautiful bride was his daughter. Walking down the aisle - yeesh. That was rough keeping it together. Dad was crying, I was tear-streaked (yay for pictures!) and Kelsey was just begging him to keep it together. It was pretty amazing. But there was still the reception which was 2 hours away. We had no idea how he'd respond to that.

Dad was absolutely and totally amazing. He was in the center of the dance floor dancing up a STORM! And I know it wasn't just me who felt how special that was. Often times, when I visit him in the home, he seems to be disappearing into himself. He's afraid to speak and, when he does, it's very stilted and frustrated. On that dance floor he was a different person. He was having the time of his LIFE. Even when modern, loud, bass-ey dance music would start up he just kept on dancing his little heart out. Clapping along, connecting with everyone, not a care in the world.

At one point Matt went up to him on the floor and told him how good he looked in his suit and he responded without losing a beat, "they forced me in this thing!" I came over a little later and said, "hey who's this guy dancing up a storm!? I don't even know you!" and he responded, "then get out of here!" It's the same old playful ribbing we used to engage in before he got sick. It was fabulous.

At the end of the night they had to drag him off that dance floor. He could have danced all night. He was amazing and I will never underestimate him again!!

Kelsey and Frank had a fabulous night as well, not a stitch was out of place. The whole day ran as smoothly as we could have hoped for. It was a gathering of family that have their differences, but for one night understood how important it was to recognize the love we have for each other. I don't think the night would have been nearly as special if dad hadn't been there.



Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Doc Drama

My favorite genre of film, far and above any other, is a good, juicy documentary. I've also heard it said that the documentary is among the most manipulative of films and I am ripe for manipulation (when it comes to documentaries). In the past few days I've realized what an evil corporation Wal-Mart is (something I peripherally knew but not to what extent), how hard it was to star in Annie on Broadway in the 70's, how terrible some pig slaughterhouse practices are and just how much genetically altered corn is in our food. I don't care if it is manipulative - this shit makes you think!

After watching "Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Prices" I vowed never to shop at Wal-Mart again. That's fairly easy since we don't have a WM in NY, but it also made me realize how important it is to go to Mom & Pop stores instead of big chains. Sorry, Poppa John's. You'll have to let some other attractive comedian stuff you in her face when she gets emotional.

And speaking of pizza... "King Corn," the documentary about how prevalent modified corn has become in our food system made me never want to eat high fructose corn syrup again. Especially since there are reports it contains mercury. What? Mercury!? But wait, what does Mercury do to our bodies? HOLY SHIT. No thank you! Did you know that corn-fed cattle is being poisoned by eating a steady diet of nothing but genetically-altered corn? And then we're eating that meat? Not any more, brother. Not if I can help it - and I can. (This also reminds me to mention the part of the movie where they have genetically-altered corn so that the new pesticide they've created to kill the weeds in the crops doesn't affect the corn. The weeds? Hemp. Guess what guys - we can use hemp for a lot of things that don't include smoking it. You're killing the wrong plants!)

This reminds me of another documentary I watched about a bunch of people living in the mountains of America who sit around feeding their kids Mountain Dew. Ironic. And terrible. Poor dumb little mountain folk rotting their teeth and brains with soda full of sugars and mercury. Mmmm. Mercury. No more soda for this girl!

Then I took in the amazing doc, "Life After Tomorrow" which pretty much just confirmed what I already knew - my future children will never be child stars. Nope. No thanks. The doc interviewed a bunch of the kids who starred in the touring company and Broadway production of Annie in the 70s. They had fame, and I'm talking eating-dinner-with-Muhamed-Ali-singing-for-the-President fame. And 20 years later what are they left with? One big chip on their shoulders. Sad but also amazing and totally re-watchable.

I tried to watch a documentary on the cruelty toward pigs before they are slaughtered and I couldn't even get through 13 minutes. I believe it was called "Death on a Factory Farm" so I really shouldn't have been surprised. I still shudder when I think about the things I saw in those 13 minutes. Poor little piglet! No more bacon for this girl!

The list of things I can eat is slowly shrinking and I think that's probably the best thing I've done in years. I was a fast food, diet soda, candy junkie. So my new diet is called "Eat With Your Brain Not Your Stomach, McMurray!" I'm sure it will change a few things including my skin and my body - so far I feel good and it's only been a day. Boom!

So I guess the next documentary I need to watch should answer the question my boyfriend brings up a lot. If the flouride in our drinking water is for our teeth then why are we swallowing it? I need to research this a little more but if anyone has seen a doc which deals with this let me know.

Oh and I'll just add one caveat to the aforementioned diet - the one thing I will not be giving up is coffee. And that's that. Athankyew.

Have a great day!!



Monday, April 13, 2009

Birthday Asshole

This past weekend I had the most amazing birthday party. It more than made up for the skating incident. I got plenty snockered and was surrounded by people I loved and, because I love my girl Britney Spears I get a little animated when her songs come on. And now, thanks to the fabulous Jay Bois, I have proof.

And so I give to you, dear Glesbian, The Birthday Dance. (aka - Glennis is an Asshole)



Sunday, April 12, 2009

Skating Racists

My socks, they were striped.
And I had a frog balloon.
Then - skating racists.

I was in LA for an I Eat Pandas show last week.  It was also the week leading up to my birthday and, because I have a bunch of LA pals who couldn't be in NY for my party, I decided to have a roller skating birthday party - West Coast Style!  After a quick internet search, Eliza found World on Wheels on Venice Blvd. in LA and it was a GO.

My experience with roller skating is extensive and yet I haven't skated in years.  I used to be a pro.  And by pro I mean I had roller skating birthday parties in Farmington, NM as a kid.  I was actually really good!  I even beat the shortest boy in our class at a roller limbo contest.  And he was really short.  I haven't skated in years but I now own my own pair of pristine white skates with bubble gum pink wheels.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that I was really excited to skate.

Now here's how it went down, people.  We arrived promptly at 8pm, got our skates, Luci and Michael gave me a googlie-eyed frog balloon and we hit the rink.  The rink was down a short ramp, so the area where you got your skates and played air hockey was raised above it.  Those not brave enough to don the skates stood up there and watched.  But not us.  Not me and my awesome friends.  We don't watch the skate, we participate.

At first everyone was really helpful and awesome.  There was a chick in a pink sweatband and pig tails who was helping Sara Jo her first time around the rink.  And then I noticed two things - A) aside from my group of friends everyone on the rink was a great-to-excellent skater and B) a majority of the crowd was middle aged and black.  I noticed it and then thought about how skating was probably pretty big in the 70s and that's why everyone was so good.  I wanted to be that good again and so I started pushing myself to get better.  I mean, this was a birthday party and my friends were mostly hanging in the middle talking, but when I get something stuck in my mind I get kind of crazy about it.  So I pushed myself to go faster and, aside from a few little brushes with other speeding skaters, I was doing pretty well.

At one point I was skating on the outer lane and one of the really good skaters came over to me and told me that I was the fast lane and that I should skate closer to the island in the middle where people took breaks.  I moved closer to the middle, but I vowed to work my way up to at least skating as well as the people in the outer lane.

Eventually the lights turned down, the disco ball lit up and it was pure disco heaven.  I built my confidence level with each lap and eventually forgot I had been at all uneasy on skates.  It was awesome!  Around and around I rolled.  Humming along to the music and really just happy as could be.  One lap around I noticed Luci standing up near the air hockey table and where I'd tied my frog balloon.  I caught her eye and waved.  She waved back and just as I passed her I felt two hands on my back and I went down.  Hard.  I immediately looked behind me to find out who had fallen - assuming someone had grabbed me on their way down - but there was no one there.  I looked up at Luci and she was just turning her head toward me so I realized she hadn't seen anything.  I stood up against the wall and tried to regain my composure but I was starting to realize that I had been pushed and I was really shaken.  A woman skated up to me and said, "You need to get off the rink.  You need to get out of this lane" and then skated away.  I rolled over to the island and sat down - trying not to cry.  Eliza skated over and said that a woman had come up behind me and pushed me down.  I was shocked.  She pointed her out to me and the woman was probably about 50 years old and I had never seen nor made contact with her before that point in the night.  Unbelievable.

After realizing what had happened we decided to make our way off the rink since it was pretty clear we weren't wanted.  At this point the skaters had doubled and getting off the rink was an accident waiting to happen.  And what an accident it was.  My dear friend Claire, as she was carefully trying to make her way off the floor, was smashed into at full speed by a man skating backward.  Claire hit the floor, broke her elbow and needs surgery to fix it.  I know, right!?  WHAT THE FUCK.  Two guys helped her up but were grabbing her arm as she cried out in pain that she thought it was broken.  By the time she was off the floor she was in tears and couldn't feel her fingers.


Claire is a tough cookie.  I Skyped with her today and she looks great.  She's going to try and get the rink to cover her medical bills with liability insurance (she doesn't have health insurance), but if they don't (and if we can't sue the crap out of them) Eliza suggested a fundraiser to help raise money for her bills and I couldn't agree more.  Poor Claire!

For the rest of the night and the rest of the next day I could not help but think about that woman who pushed me.  It reminded me of the 3 girls who tormented me my Sophomore year of high school.  Just because they had heard a rumor and believed it.  I just don't understand something like that.  I'm angry/sad/insecure and I'm gonna take it out on you.  Maybe the roller incident wasn't a hate crime in the racial sense, but it sure felt like one.  You don't push a stranger down from behind if you've got love in your heart.  I'm pretty sure of that.  And I know that her comeuppance will be her own guilt eating away day after day until she dies, sad and alone surrounded by bags of her own feces, but it's hard to be ok with that.  I'm so fucking sick of assholes raining on your parade because you're happy.  Why does it matter to you if I'm a happy person?  Why?  I'll tell you why - because you're not.  Why don't you deal with that and leave the rest of us alone.

We all have a choice about how we act, feel or respond in any given situation no matter what we have had happen to us or are currently going through.

Just be nice to each other.  OK?