Is This REALLY Necessary?

h/o/t/Richard

Quote of the Ween

"She told me for years that she had lived in hopes of being rescued; of belonging to someone else, of dancing together. And then she had learned to dance alone, for its own sake and for hers. "

--Jeanette Winterson

Imagination - Elmo and DeNiro

Don't thank me. Yes. Actually. Do.

h/o/t/ the tarty Jim Sweeney for tweeting.

Pulling Punches

Okey dokey. I pulled punches with my Oprah blog. She really has reached full-fledged ridiculousity with her tear-ridden farewell more than a year and a half before the actual farewell.

Where has the real Oprah gone and who is this goon?

Okay, back ot the Monkey Lady show. Why didn't Oprah mention that M.L.'s health bills are exorbitant and that the family could use some help paying the bills? That being said, why hasn't a 501(c)3 charitable trust been set up for M.L.? There is a trust but it isn't registered? What is that about? And since it was supposedly important to M.L. that legislation regarding keeping wild animals as pets be altered, why weren't there some instructions on who to write and what to write and blah freaking blah?

And funnily enough, Connecticut does have a law prohibiting people from keeping primates weighing more than 50 pounds as pets and requiring owners of exotic animals to apply for a permit. The new law took effect in 2004 because of an incident with Travis (the aforementioned chimp who was 150 pounds over the limit). The Connecticut D.E.P. did not enforce the law on Travis which makes no sense whatsoever. And also makes the whole intention of the stinking program a moot point.

I smell exploitation and it stinks something awful.

I, btw, have shared the Monkey Lady story with many people...sometimes random folk I barely know. And you know what? When I act out "Oh, you have something on your face," every single one of them mimics the expression of the audience at the Jerry Springer Show when they're yelling "No, she DIDN'T" at some bimbo who slept with her first cousin while married to her brother and giving birth to her twin.

And I will continue to tell the story. I dig the reactions in some weird, twisty, dented spot in my soul.

And because Carla Nash may just be Lazarus but Oprah sure isn't Jesus. Charla Nash rose from the dead long before she met Oprah. That record needs to be set straight.

And Oprah needs to keep her stinking hands to herself.

I think I'm cranky. Do you think I'm cranky? Yup. I'm cranky.

If you wanna take credit for changing someone's life, Ope, take credit for that.

A Fallen Idol

Okay...so this is where you learn to hate me...if you haven't learned that lesson already.

It's my little story about watching tv and seeing Oprah and the Monkey Lady.*

You all remember the Monkey Lady, right? She went to help her friend in Stamford Connecticut corral her liquored and drugged up chimp who was running amok. What did she get for her pains? Near death. No hands. No face.

I know I'm sounding callous. I'm feeling callous. Oprah made me that way.

Now, many had, since hearing this really strange information on the news, joked about it.

#1 Sometimes (okay...most times) joking and laughing is easier than dealing with painful reality.

#2 The reality was someone in Stamford Connecticut kept a 200 pound chimpanzee as a "companion" and let it drink wine and sleep with her. Sounds like a date to me. Did they monkey around?

#3 Yeah. 200 pound chimp. You think chimp and you think little and cute. Chimps are part of the gorilla family, my friends.

#3 On aforementioned tragic day, the chimp was a little rambunctious so she gave it a Xanax.

Always a good choice.

What?

But this broad isn't the one I call Monkey Lady. Monkey Lady is the tragic, innocent friend who came to help. And was attacked by the whacked out chimp.

And this is why I now dislike Oprah.

Oprah had her on the show for the big reveal. Seems there had been a "bounty" for Monkey Lady's photograph and the woman wanted to reveal her face on her own terms.

Seems she must have contacted the Oprah Show.

Seems the Oprah Show didn't wish to reveal until well past the half hour mark. They will say it was to "humanize" Monkey Lady before the reveal. Get to know her. All the while with banners running along the bottom essentially saying something akin to "You might not wanna watch this. May freak you out."

Oy.

Seemed like a well-paced Michael Crichton novel. Well done and oh-so-slick.

If you didn't watch, Monkey Lady doesn't have a face. Or hands. Or eyes. She does have one thumb. If she could see and/or feel the devestation she might not recover. I, in my infinite Tizdom, think she's still in shock and that waiting a little while longer might have been a good idea because...

OPRAH USED A TISSUE THAT HAD BEEN IN HER OWN FREAKING HANDS TO BLOT MONKEY LADY'S CHEEK SAYING, "YOU'VE GOT SOMETHING ON YOUR FACE."

Are you shitting me?

Great idea, OpE. Touch someone--who still has what look to be open wounds and must be immuno-compromised--with a tissue that's been in your hand. DURING FLU SEASON.

Wise wise choice.

I sure as shit hope you paid Monkey Lady a LOT of money.

And don't write me that Oprah probably checked with the physicians before hand because then that moment was completely staged WHICH MAKES ME EVEN ANGRIER.

Hate me yet?

*Her name is Charla Nash. I get the feeling she's a pretty righteous dame. I used the monkey moniker in the post, because...well...it reveals the foolishness and hubris of Oprah's actions.

Quote of the Weed

and if pigs start flying out my behind we'll be eating bacon for the rest of our lives.

-- 2 1/2 Men

Asterisk Interruptus

Did you notice in the last post, Vacay in the Countray, that there was asterisk interruptus? I led you to believe there would be an explanation of "unfortunate incident" and then I didn't do it.

Lying thieving whore am I.

And I'm still not going to do it....and since I'm speaking truth now, I guess I'm just a thieving whore. It deserves its own post and I have unfortunate clerical duties of my own today, but rest assured, it WAS an unfortunate incident...except for the hot hot firemen part. Me likey the hot hot firemen.

P.S. Vacay in the Countray was exactly what I needed. There was reading and sun-rooming* and fire-placing and jacuzzi-ing and R-Lee the Wonder Dogging.

*Sunroom in the rain. Why is that so special?

Vacay in the Countray

So, as I made clear in Vacay in the Citay I rarely take time off. Whether it's because I could get used to it, or because I really suck at it, I'm not so sure.



But it's time...



Due to an unfortunate incident next door* there has been omnipresent banging for the past week. No, you gutterheads, not that kind. That I could bear. Construction banging. ALL day. Freaking exhausting and demoralizing especially when one is spending most of one's time working from one's home. (I just watched my favorite movie, My Man Godfrey, and Carole Lombard has a whole "one" sequence I ab ad. Sorry. And sorry for the "ab ad.")



So off to my bro's home I go for two days. Oh, to you this might not sound like a vacation but it's three thousand square feet of heaven. Sun room. Steam room. Jacuzzi. Fireplaces. Firepit. Flat screen TV. And last but definitely not least...R-Lee the Wonder Dog.



R-Lee is a failed canine companion who was sent to my brother's in shame. And she has lived shamefully ever since. A blonde Lab who we believe looks in the mirror and sees a pampered, jewel-bedecked leggy blonde babe. Hell, half the time I look at her and I see that as well. And she is sweet beyond words. When I arrived at the door she makes me believe I am the only person on the face of the earth. When I sit, she comes up, presses her heart to mine and then wiggle waggles her tail off. Me too. At night, she curls up like a pea in bed with me.



Sometimes she farts. I try to look/inhale beyond that.



So, off I go into the wild blue yonder...with Jeanette Winterson's Sexing the Cherry, my ukulele and My Man Godfrey. I hope R-Lee enjoys them too.

Quote of the Weed

I mean, I'm 46, single and take pictures of TaB for fun. I wouldn't even take relationship advice from me.

--Tiz

Are Two Pics Worth Two Thousand Words?

Tiz

and

Ass

Out of the Mouths of Babes

So...I was taking an early morning train back to the city from the Nana's. I didn't think it through. The WORLD was on the train--Yankee World that is--all coming in to watch the parade pass by.

I know it's the national pastime but I've never been one to follow anything all that closely unless I do it as well, and/or it effects me or my loved ones in a personal manner. So...needless to say, since I barely play baseball (although I have quite a good arm...can even throw a curve ball) and I'm not dating a major league player (although Nomar Garciaparra was a momentary neighbor), I didn't follow the World Series.

Oops.

And therefore didn't know the train to New York would be wicked crowded.

Oops Fuck.

At one point, there were four people sitting in my three-seater. I was in the window seat. I was there first. Four people in the three-seater definitely not my fault or idea. And the two in the middle were kids. I was not happy. Can you tell by the length. of. these. sentences. I. was. not. happy?

So...I napped. Until I heard these little voices saying, "Say Hi to yourself in the window." "Hi, Joe." "Hi, Mikey."

Still...I napped. Until I felt this tiny besneakered foot kick, kick, kicking my thigh. I wedged open my right eye to see this baby-face in mine.

"Say Hi to yourself, Lady."

Instead of beating him about the head and shoulders with a stick, I looked at my reflection in the darkened window. I hadn't seen myself in quite a while. I looked tired but good. Different but good. And I said,

"Hello, Lady."

Hello World.

Oh, Pete...

You Wonder Where I've Been?

I'll be out of the woods soon. As you can seen, I've packed for the trip.

love LoVe LOVE

Quote of the Weed

Empathy that turns into self-realization within ten seconds is neither empathetic nor self-realizing. It's self-involvement. No ifs, ands or BUTTS!

--Tiz

I Wonder

...why any adult woman would dress up as Marilyn Monroe (one of the world's great iconic beauties) in the white dress from The Seven Year Itch (one of the world's great iconic snapshots)?

Are they being ironic?

I don't think soooooooooooo.

I wish I could feel that way about myself. Crikey, as a five-year-old I wept and wept until my mother and sister changed my princess costume into a witch because I didn't think anyone would believe that I, little Tizzy, could be a princess. How the hell does a FIVE-YEAR-OLD have that little self-esteem.

Am I being ironic?

I don't think soooooooooo.

And now, I don't dress up for Halloween because...well...I play dress up for a living. It wouldn't be a holiday for me if I had to look like anything other than an unemployed actress.

And now, I don't dress up for Halloween because...well...it's a slut contest. My facebook status update yesterday included "and wonders why 99.9% of women dress up slutty today. she gets so excited when she sees a nun costume. a non-slutty nun costume."

Slutty is not a costume.

Honest to Jesus, last night I saw some costumes and exposed body parts that were crimes against humanity. What's going on? Ladies, what is missing from your lives that you have to wear slutty costumes once a year? Is your inner slut not coming out on a daily basis? I say let it roar.

Am I being ironic?

I don't think sooooooooooo.

Brilliant costumes from the past...all hand-made (the Nana helped and/or taught me well)--

Donald Duck
Robin Hood
and
Tiz as Jiz

Yes, I was a little sperm...a la Woody Allen's Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask.

All of them classic and not a slut in the bunch.

Nor any delusions of grandeur.

Now, if those Marilyn Monroe "wanna bees" had high-powered fans on their shoes blowing that skirt up? That would be a costume I could get behind. Or how about a Marilyn Monroe "wanna bee" in a nun's habit with high-powered fans on her shoes blowing her skirt up?

Am I being Ironic?

Maybe...and maybe I just have to dress up after all.