On the 32nd Day of Chris*&^%$

On the 32nd Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

32 things I have learned in 2010.

1. I have trouble writing in the first person singular now because of FaceBook updates.

2. I hate being sick.

3. I am not good at being sick (there are some people who are).

4. FaceBook comes in really handy when you are sick and can't see your friends.

5. All it takes is a kind word to turn my world around.

6. All it takes is a kind word to turn someone else's world around.

7. Never ever lend things to an ex-boyfriend.

8. I like people to return the things I lend them.

9. Eddie Izzard is a demi-God.

10. An overheated apartment is better than an under-heated one.

11. If you see spare gloves that someone has lost, pick them up and give them to a homeless person...they usually need them.

12. I hope all my lost gloves are found and on the hands of someone who needs them and not in some lost and found box.

13. They should rename global warming "global weirdening."

14. I like being nominated for awards.

15. Even more better (a Nana phrase) than being nominated for an award is having my friends be happy for me. It really is better.

16. It is more better to admit and give into my TaB addiction and save fifty bucks a month by ordering it from a distributor.

17. New York Sports Club sucks. They attached my credit card to another person's account for the last four months so I've been double charged to the tune of $300.

18. New York Sports Club sucks. They made me leap through hoops to prove it was my card.

19. New York Sports Club sucks. They didn't apologize.

20. A true friend lends you ten bucks to buy the completely amazing vintage boots you're dying for.

21. There's no accounting for taste. Avatar? Adolescent boys' wet dream.

22. There's no accounting for taste. Sigourney Weaver? Luckiest actress in the world.

23. Community is waaaay important.

24. It was surprising to learn that very few people were aware of Haiti's troubles before the earthquake.

25. If you ask questions precisely and with passion, people clamor to answer.

26. I can become close to speechless and very teary when a kindness is extended towards me. It's been a mute and teary 2010.

27. If we're not here to help one another, why are we here? I'm just asking...

28. I should have learned to read my investment statements a long time ago. Better late than never.

29. iMovie is wicked fun.

30. There is no reason to wash my hair more than twice a week. (Do not be grossed out. I have really dry hair.)

31. I'm much happier when yous guys read and comment on my blog.

32. If I want to be much happier, I should blog more often.

**Would love to hear about what you learned this year...I'm just sayin'.

56

56 people stopped into my blog yesterday. FIFTY-SIX!!

LVI for you ancient romans out there.

I've been miraculously lame about blogging recently. I've had a lot on my plate now that the cold is no longer breakfast, lunch and supper. Writing, producing, acting and now iMovie editing a little scene for my reel. iMovie is mesmerizing but I don't recommend it if you wish to have a life outside of magical, creative "I'M A CINEMATOGRAPHER IN MY DREAMS" land. Two GREAT theater auditions (no singing for me, thank you very much). Fixing snafoos. Serving on a steering committee. Dining with nearest and dearest. Seeing the snazzy Schmoops groove with some of jazziest musicians around. And I've been to tap class again which will be blogged about tomorrow because it makes me worry for the youth of America.

Oooh...I almost forgot. I baked three pies.

But this is to say I thought people actually choosing to vacation in TIZ and AsS World was completely dependent upon my status update invites in the Book of Face. But I didn't do DICK yesterday...other than post a "canned" photo.

Who visited? Who are you? Do tell. And please come back again when I have something of import to impart which is quite imminent.*

*The last day of January is The 32nd Day of Christ*&^%$. Be there or be hexagonal...or maybe a rhomboid.

I Find It Fascinating...

...that essentially no one commented on that last blog. Not on the blog. Not on Facebook. Not in e-mail.

Did I frighten you? Have I lost you, dear Bleaders?

Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Tizzy turns her lonely eyes to you.

Ooh. Ooh. Ooh.

And I was going to let that be my last blog. My swan song. But then I posted a quote of my own on Facebook--

no thought is that last thought, no emotion is the last emotion, and nothing you write is the last thing you'll ever write.--TiZ

I just couldn't ditch after that.

And...okey dokey...my friend, the Pajama King, did comment in person. He thought discovering my "sick fuck" cured my fuckin' sickness (aka, Die Nie-endliche Atchoo).

I'll take it.

But please don't take off.

Take thirty-two. Rolling and...action!

A Missing Piece of the Puzzle

...was re-discovered today. I didn't remember it existed and therefore really didn't know where it was residing...perhaps under the bed...maybe behind the couch... with my missing retainer?

It's the "sick fuck" part of me. I forgot she existed until Kieran asked a simple question.

"I need to edit a photo of just Grimace's arm, so it looks like I cut it off. Any ideas?"

Now, I've never met Kieran. Or maybe I did long, loooooong ago at Tower Records. But he's on Facebook, and he loves TaB as much as I do, so of course we found one another.

Kieran's a filmmaker. Has a full-length feature out there...24 Nights. Buy it please. He's currently working on a documentary about Jobriath. Jobriath?

First openly gay rock singer EVER to be signed with a major label. Glam rock. The American David Bowie (Kieran, feel free to bitch slap me now). The film is called Jobriath A.D.

Reason I'm writing about this...Kieran is raising capital through Kickstarter. Kickstarter helps projects raise funds...not investments. Ownership is Kieran's. But the kick is, all the funds declared necessary must be raised or no money exchanges hands. Cool.

Check it out!

Now, Kieran is great and he's doing great but he has a schedule he'd greatly like to keep. The wise man is not up for waiting for some 11th hour angel, so he's getting creative.

Poor Grimace...

Grimace is in a stayfresh ziploc bag that's slowly closing. And if Kieran doesn't raise a couple of hundred bucks by the end of the day, Grimace is gonna bite it.

And this is where "sick fuck" comes in...in a lovely facebook exchange

Kieran

i need to edit a photo of just grimace's arm, so it looks like I cut it off. any ideas?

15:48Tiz

don't hurt me. who's just grimace?

15:49Kieran

don't you ever read my posts?

15:50Tiz

I JUST LOOKED. running around like mad today. umm..i say a bloody bread knife...really ragged.

15:50Kieran

silly

15:51Tiz

or caught in an old movie reel.

15:51Kieran

you really don't know who grimace is?

15:52Tiz

now i do. Or a boot in the armpit with hands pulling on the arm...

15:53Tiz

OR the arm stuffed in grimace's grimace. yeah...eat your own arm grimace.

15:54Kieran

ooooh

you're evil

15:56Tiz

yes. i. am.

would it be easier to do just an eyeball say on the top of an open-faced sandwich?

15:58Kieran

I LOVE IT

16:00Kieran

you excite me

16:00Tiz

but preface it with a photo of the heel of a stilleto-ed boot going in his eye.

Kieran

we already lost one "fan" over the grimace situation, but fuck her!

16:02Tiz

ha! must scoot. and may have to blog about this.

WHO KNEW I WAS THIS VIOLENT? NOT ME!!

I think I need a TaB.

Give 'til it hurts...or Grimace will be!

Thanks, Kieran. Good luck.

P.S.

For those of you asking, I found no random messages in the sitcom re-runs. What I DID learn is that "Just Shoot Me" was rather fabulous.

And that was enough.

Anatomy of a Cold--It's Time

So...here I am on my 11th day of blugh. It's a lot less blugh but blugh none-the-less. I know I'm harping on this but it's for a reason--I never get sick like this--i never STAY sick like this and I feel like a lame-ass. LAME. AsS. I've always thought that people who get sick were weaker, of less fortitude, dumb, just...well...not as good as me. Lame-ass.

What a lame-ass way to think.

Part of my freak-out has to do with time. Being sick is a waste of time. HUMONGOUS. I've now been under for 11 days of 22 of the new decade (if that's how you're looking at 2010...there is some debate)--so I've been sick for freakin' 50% of this decade. That just ain't right. Nothing gets done.

But what I find fascinating is I DID get things done. I didn't realize it until I wrote Shmoopy about how little I accomplished in the last week...

"finally FINALLY seem to have burst through the cold bubble a bit. doubt i'm gonna make it to mike's tonight as i really need to kick this thing in the ass. i've accomplished nothing--an audition, an acting class, shot a little infomercial, eddie izzard, 15 hours of devoted and disgruntled forum, worked out 4X, found a place to shoot my little scene, did committee work at Equity, priced sound equipment, found money in my retirement fund i didn't know existed, blah blah...oh SHIT, i got a LOT done. i don't feel bad anymore. i mean on top of the cold i was feeling bad about being a lame-ass...but i guess i'm not so lame-ass."

#1--I guess I like lists as they help quantify...

#2--Why do I have to quantify? Why do I always have to accomplish things? Why is use of time so important? As Pooh says (and he is very wise), "Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

#3--I have a great friend in Schmoopy. "GLAD to hear you are better and FYI and for the record: being sick does not make one a lame-ass, it makes one a little sickie in need of rest. ;) "

So, I'm a little sickie--now resting and reading One Moment Meditation...Stillness for People on the Go by dear old friend, Martin Boroson--my original Pooh. It's wise, it's wonderful, it's simple, it's complex, it's completely practical and yet it and of itself is a meditation and tone poem on the nature of time.

What? Genius.

If I hadn't been sick, I might not have dived (diven? dove? Oh, you fecking conjugations in my addled brain) boogerhead-first into Marty's genius. I might not have been open to the synchronicity of some specific events. I might not have found compassion for people with less blessed constitutions. I might...I might...

Who knows? I'm sick but I'm getting better and I'm not really sure what I've written but I hope it makes some sense to someone somewhere and I'm glad I finally took the fluff out of my ears long enough to hear Labramom's russian cold remedy--strong black tea with jam, followed by a tumbler of vodka, followed by oodles of duvets. "The common theme with these Russian health treatments seems to be the caveat that if they don't kill you they will cure you."

Ain't dead yet.

Spaseba.

Open Letter to Eddie Iz

From Chrissy TiZ

Dear Eddie Izzard,

I am writing this to you
and I hope that you will read it so you'll know...
My heart beats like a hammer
and I stutter and I stammer
every time I see you at the picture show.
I guess I'm just another fan of yours
and I thought I'd write and tell you so.

Je crois que vous êtes adorables et formidable et...et...wheeeeeeee!

Oui!

After a delightful day being both Devoted and Disgruntled, I sat in a crap seat at your concert at Madison Hexagonal Arbory.

The seat was crap 'til you walked onstage.

How, HOw, HOW do you envelope MSG? Do tell.

How, HOw, HOW do you weave comedy circularly ever into itself and finish with a slam-bang curtain call of every character and theme introduced? Do tell.

How, HOw, HOW do you put up with a NY audience that is so generous that it's controlling (which isn't generous at all)? I know we insist on being the best audience you've ever had--love us, love us, love us. I guess none of us were breast-fed. You were masterful. Do tell.

How, HOw, HOW can you be English and talk about poo? Do you include more poo for the American audience? I lived and performed in England in 2004/2005 and never heard talk of poo. It was lonely. Was I hanging with the wrong people? (Btw, this question posed to you on twitter has generated an interesting conversation with a complete stranger. I thank you.) Do tell.

How, HOw, HOW did you talk of both "Lord of the Flies" AND Shirley Temple when earlier in the day I'd been doing impressions of Shirley Temple tormenting Piggy? Do tell.

How, HOw, HOW do you "Get God" so brilliantly? He has never come to any of my gigs either. And I used to ask. I was raised Catholic. REALLY Catholic...like a monk somewhere in the fam...and a nun for a cousin. Eating the body of Christ? Yes, cannibalism. No, not for me. I also had this strange notion of limbo...where unbaptized babies went. Since unbaptized babies were from Africa (obviously), I envisioned little black babies, in diapers, bones through their noses (thank you National Geographic), forever doing backbends under ever-lowering poles...in the clouds. Original sin? What the fuck did I ever do? When I told my mother I'd never felt guilty about a thing in my life, she declared, "Blasphemy." And I actually did say, "BlaspheME? BlaspheYOU!" At the age of 18. That was a while ago.

Do tell.

How, HOw, HOW do you run 43,265,322.222 miles in 40 days? Do tell. (Oh, I contributed. Have to throw money at someone who commits cartilage death.)

So, thank you for being you...with humor that is sweet and smart and silly and full of wonder and never hurtful.

Btw, my ex-boyfriend thinks you and I should know one another...as I too am sweet and smart and silly and full of wonder and rarely hurtful. I also am a full-grown, dainty girl with the soul of a thirteen-year-old gay boy. (It's confusing.) I believe you've met my wanker ex. From what I've heard you told him to "Fuck off."

ME TOO!

So, Eddie Iz, if you make it to the Isle of Manhattan soon...mizmtizm@gmail.com.

And thank you for making a crap seat heavenly.

Tons,

Chrissy TiZ

YES

by Saul Steinberg

and h.o.t Jeffie for posting

I LOVE a Good Horoscope

Your Rising Sign scope - Today, January 15, 2010 You are likely to be looking especially beautiful and feeling very warm and loving today, and so you're likely to attract a romantic encounter of some kind. An old love may reappear on the scene, or a person whose attention you've been trying to attract could suddenly respond to you in a positive way. The Moon-Venus conjunction brings romance to the forefront. Make the most of it! A HA HA HA HA HA haaaaa...hack hack lugie snort. Astrocenter.com obviously hasn't seen me today nor heard my plaintive whining regarding my cold...or whatever.

Anatomy of a Cold

We all get them. Some of us (me Me ME) way less often than the others. And some of us (me Me ME) have little or noooo sympathy whatsoever for the stupid mortals who allow themselves to fall victim to the rhinovirus.

Until now.

I’ve got the pox. I’VE GOT THE POX.

And I feel like crapdoodles.

The idea of this cold (and they DO start as ideas) gained cognition in mid-December…the busiest week of my life. 12 auditions, 5 hours of rehearsal, 16 hours of travel and 4 concerts later (and let’s not forget the pesky little UTI) I decided that a cold would not be convenient. So I didn’t get it. Nailed it with Zicam (yes, I have some rogue vials), zinc and vitamin D.

Then it waved a jaunty hello on New Year’s Eve. And I killed it with joy and alcohol.

I laid low most of the weekend following… I was busy with a reading and two important classes, an audition and cb for a director I find daunting, some commercial crap and was working on some writing projects and submissions. Again, it wasn’t convenient but I could no longer just kill it. It continued to peep out… the viral ”Where’s Waldo.”

Heeeeeere’s Waldo.

Hit me smack dab on the nose for the presentation of the reading. NOT convenient. But since I was Babushka Dvah and singing in the basement…do-able.

Now here I lie…two days later. Definitely NOT do-able.

I’ve employed a hanky as opposed to tissues. I thought I’d do my darnedest to keep the rainforest intact. I can’t really do anything of import because my synapses are so clogged with snot they’re not snapping cleanly. I randomly post on Facebook friend’s pages, “I have a cold.” One of them hadn’t heard from me in forever. Rude. My skin has the texture and color of my 1st edition autographed copy of “La Boheme.” There are boogers in my hair. I eat an orange (yum) and my ears itch (boo). What’s that about?

I smell.

And I’ve lost four pounds.

Ye olde colde is definitely on its way out but I am not—I don’t want it to land on any poor unsuspecting friends. Lovely friends who offer to bring over anything I need. I love you, lovely friends, and therefore am NOT letting this alight on you.

So, it’s another day of random sitcom re-runs for TiZ and her AsS. I keep looking for messages in the random sitcom re-runs. I told you my synapses are snagging.

I have sympathy.

I, Tizzy,

feel like crapdoodles.

No ifs ands or butts.

Dear Ann Ominous

Aaaaah--one of you anonymous folk offered a suggestion when I mentioned I had flown into the blaaahg wall. Seems I had shown up in one of your dreams.

WOO HOO!

Oh yeah.

You asked me to write of a fantasy. And I've thought about it. Thought about it. And I don't have any fantasies that weren't hinted at in the 12 Days of Christ*&^%$. (Oh, 12 Days of Christ*&^%$, I miss you). There are fantasy people...you know...the LIST of people to do before I die, but no fantasies purr say.

So, I offer, in its stead, the two most interesting places I've been naughty and nice.

The President's Lounge of Woolsey Hall at Yale. I left my panties on the chandelier.

The Sheep's Meadow in Central Park...at midnight...with a bowie knife in hand...just in case we were mugged. Note to self and others: REALLLLLLLY not wise to involve one's self in coital shenanigans with a deadly object in hand.