A Gut Feeling

snow white never was very bright

snow white never was very bright

So, those of you who’ve been following this blog closely or Facebook closely, or Twitter even half-assedly will know that I’ve lately spent five days lolling around the luxurious surroundings of St. Paul’s Hospital, enjoying the luxurious fare provided by IV. Once I got switched to real food, the so-called “real food” was so awful it played a significant role in encouraging me to get out as soon as it was practical. This little time-out came courtesy of a gallbladder attack and serious infection, and resulted in me having the better part of a week without the internet and, consequently, the internet having a week without me.

It did not appear to notice.

Obviously, however unwell I may have been, the internet was in even worse shape!

In any case, once they discharged me with prescriptions for enough antibiotics to cure the rot in the Chinese government, I was told to eat low-fat, make an appointment with a surgeon (they gave me her name and number, nicely enough, and the meds have me so loopy I promptly left it behind) for an examination preliminary to the surgery which would undoubtedly happen within the next three months, and avoid alcohol, as one of the meds has the side-effect of acting as a sort of Antabuse, causing projectile vomiting if you so much as sniff too deeply at a passing cork. So, no onion rings, no fries, no cream, no booze.

and this does not take me to my happy place.

I mean, if you can’t self-medicate your “nobody visited me” sulks with premium frozen dairy products and alcohol, what’s the frickin’ point?

Which is to say, in a typically roundabout way, that I’m still sulking, and that, furthermore, I have excellent reasons for sulking, as today I had another proper gallstone attack, although one of nowhere near the severity of the last. Hospitals were avoided, but doctors were phoned and appointments were made. And, when i stupidly forgot to write them down, my friends found them for me on Facebook, so hey, social media DOES work sometimes!

But all this is nothing, really, in the larger scheme of things, and there are few things that can cause me to say my own sufferings are nothing, really, and I mean REALLy there are very, very few such things but this is one of them, this being, in this case, the brilliant if I do say so myself and if I learned one thing from being stuck in the hospital that long it’s that if I don’t say it nobody will idea of making jewelry out of gallstones and selling it to the gullible, tasteless masses that bought, and that very expensively, into the idea of yellow diamonds, formerly known as industrial-grade rocks.

Yes, once these pesky little gallstones are removed like pearls from an oyster, they will be lovingly polished and set within a luxurious 10k gold-plated setting with real Swarovski crystal accents, and sold to ostentatious suckers across this fine land.With my celebrity connections, we’re looking at offering a premium line of celebodyparts, at a significant profit.

BioRecyclables Unlimited: Our motto: You Want A Piece Of Me?

Of all the gall!

Oh, we would charge WAY more than that!

Juiced Goths: it’s okay, you’ve still got your poetry

Goth Juice: Puree two Ministry fans...

Goth Juice: Puree two Ministry fans...

If you just can’t get enough of the taste of wormwood, I recommend this Goth Juice; made by the same, time-consuming process that brings you Baby Oil, our Goth Juice is entirely locally-sourced and free-range (at least from Venables to Broadway along The Drive). If you haven’t yet reached your bitterness quotient, check out these gossip links:

Eight Kilometers, the Justin Bieber Story (raincoaster)
John Cusack films a prequel (Lolebrity)
Paula Deen’s stoner burger (ManoloFood)
Saturday Catherinettes Caption Contest (Ayyyy)
Blade is his backup (AgentBackup)
Britney eats babies? (BusyBeeBlogger)
John Mayer’s latest victim (CeleBitchy)
The poor man’s Joaquin Phoenix hates Aniston too(CelebDirtyLaundry)
Unemployed senior gets a paying job! (CityRag)
Ginnifer Goodwin makes a slip-up (CojoStyle)
Gwyneth Paltrow is Gleeful (DailyStab)
Never Forget! (minor rock singers) (GirlsTalkinSmack)
Rihanna and Colin Farrell are so hot they crashed my Flash player (HaveUHeard)
The Eighties bite back! (INeedMyFix)
Isn’t 14 a bit young for support hose? (JustJared)
BritKink (PoorBritney)
Taylor Momsen Shakes and Bakes (SeriouslyOMG)
Emma Watson is an animal! (ASL)

Watch Out!

Genuine Fake Watches
Image by orangejack via Flickr

I posted this in the technical support forum first, for reasons that probably have more to do with the fact that I’ve had three Martinis than any other ones, but where was I? Oh yes, stories about my mother’s time in Saudi Arabia are popular, as are Schadenfreude tales, so I thought you’d like this.

My mother was working in Saudi Arabia and got a boyfriend there, an American CIA agent whose day job was teaching battlefield communications and whose night job was running a private casino/brothel for blackmail purposes of the US government. She figured it out when all his paycheques came from the Pentagon, and I figured it out when I heard he’d been in prison on a 20-year sentence, was released when he agreed to serve in Vietnam, and that his CO in Saudi in the 80’s was (coincidentally?) also his CO in Vietnam. As for the blackmail, it went “hello, PrinceWhatever, we have photos. We would like the development contract for X province”.

Anyway they bought a fake marriage certificate from a Filipino forger who was, apparently, legendary in the days before desktop publishing and swung through Riyadh once a year (she briefly considered buying me a Harvard PhD but it was $500 and she cheaped out, which is why I still have to scramble for a living BUT I’M SO OVER THAT) and lived as a married couple. I met that guy’s son many years later in a small town in Indonesia, but that’s a tale for another time.

My mother brought Jerry From Alabama, her boyfriend, back to Vancouver to meet her daughters. Well, the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree and we’re both very opinionated my sister and me. And while my sister isn’t a snob, I did get that gene, plus her share. My sister somehow got the “obliging” gene (and GOD knows where she got it from) so she adopted his accent instantly and he could NOT figure out why he liked her better than me, right from the start. But then, maybe he was just psychic.

So, we’re sitting at dinner with Jerry, and my mother has obviously told him I’m a snob (taking credit for her ,work? I dunno), and at some point something happens And. Dude looks me in the eye, takes off his watch, hands it to me (WTF?!) and says, “What do you think of that?”

I look at it. It’s a “Cartier” but the second hand ticks, it doesn’t sweep. I turn it over, and it has the classic beefy Cartier back.

I say, honestly, “That’s a really good fake.”

He collapses in mortification, and my mother collapses in laughter.

Old McDonald has a … drag act?

Big Bird's Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
Image via Wikipedia

Oh. My.

This is the Philippines’ answer to … well, who the hell knows WHAT the question was?

This is BM, more formally known as Big Mouth, a Filipina/o drag queen that will knock your socks off and quite possibly the horse’s as well, and call the cows home, all while looking like Liza Minelli in costume as Big Bird.

Words.

They fail me.

via DListed

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My Stuff: the VF questionnaire

What do you mean, the entry way isn't welcoming?

What do you mean, the entry way isn't welcoming?

When stuck for a blog post when you’ve already posted every goddam Blogthing and MarriedToTheSea on the planet, rip off Vanity Fair. No, seriously, it works every time. There are vast armies of Ivy League grads toiling away in Fifth Avenue sweatshops to come up with easily replicable, endlessly repeatable ideas, and it is a form of honouring their sacrifices (youth, beauty, education, Grammie’s trust fund) to steal their ideas.

After all, if they can live in Manhattan on an intern’s salary, they obviously don’t need our money, right?

So, we’ve done the Proust Questionnaire. We’ve snarked at the Best Dressed List. We’ve slavered over Lapo, and mourned Dominick Dunne. Having walked several hours today after having eaten nothing between the hours of 10am and 9pm, my brain is having a low-blood-sugar evening, which I am not fighting in the slightest but am aiding with the medicinal application of two and a half  ounces of Appleton rum and lime to the gullet.

Hence the prefab content ripoff.

If the rum makes it all the way to my brain, I may attempt originality; there is no expectation whatsoever of success at this, I’m just giving you the heads-up so if something comes out of left field you can blame it on me and not those poor, Lacoste-clad minions. Selah.

Which I stole from Hunter S. Thompson. But you knew that, right?

My Stuff

And fuck the people who say I have too much stuff; what I have, is not enough house, baby! You know where the Paypal button is; donate to support Operation Global Media Domination today! You think these henchmen come cheap?

My apartment looks like a liquor store and a library collided at high speed and the HAZMAT team hasn’t yet arrived.

Stealing the headings from the Alexander Wang quiz in the most recent VF, with occasional supplementationaryism as I see fit and can remember and hey, if there’s one person they should interview for this it’s Jessica Coen now that I think of it, the new editor of Jezebel, the Once and Future Present Against Her Better Instincts Gawkerite and tell her I sent ya, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.

Clothes

Jeans: I’m not a jean fetishist. Victoria’s Secret London Jean, straight legged, stonewashed or dark indigo only

Sneakers: awesome wrestling booties I got at DemiCouture’s sale for $10

Watch: I loaned my Movado Museum gold watch with the real lizard strap to my much more responsible, High Modernist neighbor. I use my JesusPhone

T-Shirt: I have 27 Starbucks Gimme Tees from the 7 years I worked there

Loafers or Lace-Ups, I guess the girly equivalent would be Heels or Flats: flats, usually sneakers since I’m walking so far, but I also have some patent leopard-spotted platform 4" heels, for posing on bar stools.

Grooming Products

Shampoo: meh, whatever’s on sale

Presumably they meant to ask about Conditioner too, or it’d feel marginalized. We are all inclusive and shit here. Alberto VO 5 Hot Oil treatment once a week, whatever’s on sale the rest of the time. And Wella Kolesteral once a month.

Moisturizer (they ask men this? Whoa, and I thought the metrosexual was dead) Neautrogena Healthy Skin

Hair Product: Bumble and Bumble Surf Spray and Garnier Fructis Wax
Cologne: Trouble or Chanel 19 or Allure or DKNY Red Delicious or Kenneth Cole Black, which I’m mostly just wearing because it was on an incredible discount and it’s okay. Not great. Okay. Miss Dior Cherie or Dune Homme (which is far FAR superior to the women’s version) or the highly exotic KL would be great. Hint, hint.

Toothpaste: Crest. Are there others?

Soap: Roger & Gallet Lettuce Soap if I have money, Allenbury’s if I don’t (mostly), Juicybath if I’m lucky

Where do you get your hair cut? Future Hair at Cambie and Broadway. It’s a school, but it’s a GOOD school. And when I had to go on tv and was penniless, they did my hair for free.

Home

Where do you live? Vangroover, baby. The Downtown Eastside!

Car: Hahahahahahahahahaha, I can’t afford a bus pass!

Sheets: t-shirt knit in white or off-white or maroon or navy blue solids. Soft, soft, soft.

Coffee-Table Book: The Grammar of Ornament, by Owen Jones. So large it IS a coffee table. By the way, I hate coffee tables. I prefer end tables; you don’t bash your shins on them, and they’re handier for resting your refreshing beverage on.

Favorite Flowers: white roses, but Wang’s suggestion of white peonies and white cabbage mint roses is delightful. The only thing wrong with peonies is that they don’t smell as beautiful as they look.

Favorite Gadget: the Jesusphone, but specifically the iPod part of it, and the part that plays podcasts. I’m all over FitMusic podcasts, iRelax sleep inducing soundtracks that you mix, Lose it! fitness management, and the built in camera

Favorite Neighborhood Restaurant: The Irish Heather, followed by the Ovaltine

Favorite Cocktail: Hendrick’s Martini or a Plymouth Negroni, depending on my mood.

Favorite Dessert: I don’t really eat dessert; when did that happen? But Mango Pudding is the single greatest food known to humankind, so I’ll go with that.

Favorite Snack: anything small and frivolous-looking. I’m all about the Afternoon Tea and the Canapes.

Inspirations

Necessary Extravagance: magazines. I used to spend $80 a month, but that was back when $80 a month was LESS than my income!

Favorite Place in the World: my favorite place isn’t in this world; it’s in Narnia

Favorite Movies: Ran, V for Vendetta, Henry V, The Thin Man, Big Trouble in Little China. Yes, one is grandiose.

And of these all, the greatest is Big Trouble in Little China.

Favorite Vintage Store: Liberty if I’m on a budget, Value Village if I’m so skint I’m past budgets, and Deluxe Junk Co. if I’ve got actual money.

Style Icons: Catherine Deneuve and Angie Dickinson (hoop earrings FTW!)

Favorite Colour (I like my spelling better!) Silver Grey

Favorite Texture: Feathers!

Favorite Hotel: La Azotea in General Santos, the Philippines

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