…the who cares girl…

Me and my girl, we got this relationship.

I love her so bad, but she treats me like shit.

On lock down like a penitentiary…

She spreads her lovin’ all over and when she gets home there’s none left for me.

The best movie I’ve watched all week is “Taintlight”, what looks to be a zero budget movie spoofing “Twilight”. The film takes place in a high school but there are seemingly only 4 students. It’s over-the-top raunchy and immature, what John Waters would surely call “trash”. There are only 6 reviews on Netflix and they are all 1 star, bitchy reviews (obviously by people who don’t get it). I’m tempted to write my very first Netflix review to tell people the truth: this film is ART! It should be celebrated! C’mon, what’s not to like about a movie with the word “taint” in the title? Think about it.

Recently I semi-forced the Boy to watch “Mommie Dearest” for his first time. I don’t think he appreciates this film as much as he should. Certainly, he didn’t laugh hysterically during the crucial parts of the film, like the pink meat scenes,

Christina yelling at her dolls,

Crawford thrashing around the rose garden in a full-length evening gown,

the excellent “ax” line, which is to be said by the viewer, loudly and dramatically, at exactly the same time it appears onscreen,

and of course, OF COURSE, the pivotal wire hangers scene. It doesn’t get much better than that. And, like “Valley of the Dolls”, you forgive the boring scenes in “Mommie Dearest” because the high-camp scenes are well, so delicious.

Whoops, how did that get in there?

This afternoon I have an appointment to see my therapist. It’s been a whole month. I can’t remember what my homework was, or if I even had any. Next we’re going to start tapering down my Celexa, which has been holding strong at 20 mg for a long-ass time. And I might get a fake tan in anticipation for our barbecue on Sunday. Shit, that reminds me, I still need to get some sort of Hawaiian-themed dress/caftan to wear. Blarg.

It’s weird. I obsessed over watching “Boom!” for so many years, and now that I have it, I haven’t even watched the entire film once.

Despite its proclamations about being “over the top” and a “camp classic”, it’s pretty…slow and boring. And I mean, I’m obsessed with Richard Burton, I love Tennessee Williams and what’s not to like about caftans and swooning? STILL.

However, that is a spectacular headdress.

I was pretty enthusiastic about watching Hitchcock’s “Rebecca” recently, one of the few Hitchcock films I hadn’t seen. It didn’t take very long for me to remember that I really can’t stand Lawrence Olivier. He’s so creepy and cold. Cast him as a sociopathic serial killer, sure, but as a love interest? And Joan Fontaine is so wimpy and fluttery and just plain annoying, ugh, also I hated how she was constantly refusing meals. I didn’t finish it. Well, once I knew what the big “secret” was anyway I stopped watching it. Mehhhhhrrrrrr.

I made a terrific video of myself squirting whipped cream into the dog’s mouths and squirting it into my own mouth and proclaiming: “We like whipped cream in this family!” but the Boy told me it was sexual and God forbid I encourage any more perverts on the youtubes.

More progress on the painting.

Eh, the fast didn’t work out. I’m over it.

Today we are going to go thrift shopping for obnoxious Hawaiian print clothes to wear to our barbecue next weekend. Yeah, apparently we’re having another barbecue. The Boy really seems to enjoy it. I think I’ll get a fake tan. Not Vespa! I need to find a place that will still do Mystic tans. Sheeesh.

* That’s from “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf”, a Burton/Taylor film that is worth watching multiple times. It’s excellent.

Nothing like a pair of glittery false eyelashes to help you make it through the day.

Here’s the boring brown hat “before”. It’s currently undergoing a dramatic, tacky make-over (my favorite!).

The “happy” end of the closet. Actually, closet #2, which contains half of our jackets on one side and half of my dresses/caftans/etc. on the other side. I grew up with two closets and was spoiled with the roominess–one closet alone is never enough. I keep EVERYTHING.

According to my Netflix “taste”, I have an affinity for raunchy comedy, and it’s hard to find really good raunchy comedies. Yesterday I watched “Dirty Love” with Jenny McCarthy, who also wrote the screenplay, and even though I know I saw/hated it back in 2005 I didn’t mind it at all yesterday. Maybe my standards have lowered. It featured Kathy Griffin as a fortune teller, and J-Rock from “Trailer Park Boys”, and the humor was disgusting, but maybe because it’s girl raunchy humor (I’m thinking of you, Margaret Cho!) it was slightly more enjoyable*. Then I watched “Adam and Steve” for the 10 billionth time and cried at the end, again. I’m such a weepy woman these days.

We booked our summer vacation, thank God, now I have something to look forward to. We’re going back to the beach house where we honeymooned in 2008 again–it’s perfect. This time I’ll be more prepared with more costumes/bikinis and certainly something floaty for the water–I need something floaty for the water. Like this!

* According to Wiki “Dirty Love” received 4 Razzies. That makes sense!

Recently I re-watched “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory” for the billionth time (the ONLY version, in my opinion, you can forget that newfangled version a’la Depp).

Of course I’ve seen this film so many times I have all the songs memorized.

“I never thought of this movie as a musical,” said the Boy.

“Of course it is! The movie just revolves around all the songs!” I cried. And who sings my favorite song?

Why, Veruca Salt, of course.

I want a party with roomfuls of laughter
Ten thousand tons of ice creaaam
and if I don’t get the things I am after
I’m going to screeeeeeAAAAAAAM!

Love her outfit too. Of course, I never get tired of round collars, dropped waists, mary janes and stockings.

I like this 60s look the Oompa Loompas are workin’ here.

I made this for our front door to cover up that tacky “no smoking” sign permanently affixed there. The sun has bleached out the once fluorescent orange cardstock to a pastel. Sun in Seattle? I know, shocking!

Sweat beads on the Boy’s back, following his Bubble Butt…I mean, kettlebell routine. Mmm, bubble butts.

Speaking of bubble butts, I went to the gym yesterday and a muscular male trainer told me I look “very fit” and “really good” and I think he may have thrown in “beautiful”, which made me feel nice, because I have been treated poorly by males at that gym before. I told the Boy about this interaction and, as usual, he got miffed, because strangers telling me I look good always seems slightly more flattering than when he tells me. I can’t help it!

Anyway it’s nice to hear that kind of thing when you’re feeling like a pasty chunky monkey who can’t seem to relinquish an overpowering sugar addiction. Blerpity schmerpity booooop.

Today I have a Broad Date! We’re going to go thrifting for a bicycle for her roommate’s child, who is turning 7 today. I’ve been itching to go thrifting anyway, not with anything in particular in mind. We’ll see what catches my eye.

Because I am a gay man, I was raised on Barbra Streisand and Bette Midler movies. I was particularly obsessed with “Funny Girl“, because Barbra has the best costumes and of course the songs are great. “Funny Girl” recently appeared in our Netflix Instant queue and the Boy informed me that he had never seen it. I was a little apprehensive about watching it again, after so many years–what if I hated it? After all, I re-watched “Funny Face” a year or so ago, and it made me nauseous.

Verdict: still good! Costumes: still inspirational! Phew.

I love that green old-fashioned bathing suit.

All of Bab’s costumes in this film are fabbuu, but I was too busy feverishly putting together a puzzle while we were watching it to take decent photos. I distinctly remembered there was an outfit in the film that incorporated both grapes and roller skates…

…and there it was. Terrible photo, but the important thing to remember is that the dress has glittery straps, clusters of grapes, a velvet bustier and a flouncy tulle skirt and she’s wearing bright green tights underneath. Talk about the perfect Liz outfit. I love roller skates too.

Several of her dresses in the film are dripping with crystals and have an Empire waist (I love Empire waist–just not on me, it makes me look pregnant), flowing chiffon and even cloche hats, shit, maybe I’ll have to watch it again and just take photos for my Inspiration Notebook (s).

I’ve also been watching older Brian De Palma films lately. His films are…unsettling.

Something about the smell of my oatmeal in the morning must cue Maggie that it’s time for her to lick her anus. It really shouldn’t bother me anymore, and yet, just like the horrible sounds my husband emits when he’s eating cold cereal, it prompts me to make disgusting slurping noises right back at them to point out how revolting they are. Yes, I’m on my period, that’s right, and?

The Boy and I recently watched a few documentaries about skateboarders–including a re-watch of “Rising Son“, about Christian Hosoi. “Rising Son” is one of my favorites because: 1. I love stories about recovered addicts, 2. I appreciate a man who is secure enough in his masculinity to wear fluorescent pink spandex and hair extensions in a male-dominated sport, and 3. Christian Hosoi is extremely easy on the eyes. Er, HAWT.

The skateboarding films and then our current obsession with graffiti and Banksy led the Boy to his idea of decorating a plain wooden skateboard.

The plain skateboard.

After a couple of rejected ideas (rats, spiders) he decided to go with a mushroom cloud (my favorite!) design, a’la Banksy.

He spent all day Sunday hyperfocusing on cutting out a highly detailed plastic stencil, and good God is he grumpy when he’s hyperfocusing! Just like me.

On Monday he started the actual spray painting.

I was having pre-Burning Man flashbacks watching him in the mask. Creative projects are good!

Completed skateboard soon to come. Now that I have coffee sweats, it’s off to work to spread the joy.

“Polyester” arrived in the mail from Netflix recently, thank God. I had been itching to see it again for ages and the Boy had never seen it, so we enjoyed it together. Ah, John Waters. My love for you swells with each passing year!

Kissyfur gave me an Odorama card a million years ago, so we could do it up RIGHT.

The incredible thing is, even after years of sitting in a jewelry box, the card still works. The fart scent especially (although it’s nothing compared to Maggie’s farts).

In the film Divine plays Francine Fishpaw, a frazzled housewife with an overactive sense of smell married to a horrible man named Elmer who runs an X-rated movie theater (and wears black socks with white shoes–talk about a crime).

Conservative smut protesters (played by the Dreamlanders‘ actual family members) picket outside her home, screaming about filth and laughing at Francine when she begs them to leave.

Francine’s only friend is Cuddles, a 40-year-old debutante, played by the incomparable Edith Massey. The Boy and I couldn’t believe it when we looked up Edith’s height and it said she was 5’3″.

“That’s taller than Corinne!” I shrieked.

“And my sister! And my mother!” added the Boy.

Francine’s son Dexter is hopelessly addicted to chemicals and foot fetishism, resulting in violent crimes of foot stomping.

At one point Dexter returns home so high on poppers…

…he even stomps on his own mother’s foot.

The Boy and I really like a song called “Frontier Psychiatrist“, by the Avalanches, that features clips of this conversation between Dexter’s principal and Francine.

Her slutty daughter Lulu’s report card. In the commentary John Waters says that as a child he would steal blank report cards from his teacher’s desks, not to make up good grades to show his parents, but to fill up the cards with F’s to obsess over in private.

“I think he makes this stuff up,” scoffed the Boy. I disagree! I like to think John Waters has always been demented, even as a child. It makes me feel good.

Francine’s husband cheats on her with his trashy secretary, played by Mink Stole.

I am not a big fan of cornrows on white people. “She looks bald!” said the Boy.

In the commentary John Waters snickers something about “the glamorous world of heterosexual sex” during this scene. Note John’s own collection of favorite movie posters on the walls.

Elmer drinking champagne out of Mink’s shoe. The thought of drinking liquid out of a shoe makes me nauseous.

Cuddles and Francine bursting in on Elmer and Mink in bed. “Scag” is a great word.

It’s so satisfying when the name of the movie is said during the movie, isn’t it?

Lulu in her pre-abortion outfit. I’ve always enjoyed round collars!

The protesters at the abortion clinic. The expression of the woman on the right is perfect.

There is SO MUCH that I adore about this movie. It’s hard for me to draw the line–how many photos do I take of the screen? (answer: 156). But how many do I upload to Flickr? (15). Why don’t I just do “screen shots”, like the Boy did for “Fight Club”, instead of taking photos of the television screen? Isn’t my method a pain in the ass? The answer is yes, but for some reason now I feel like it’s necessary for me to take photos during the movie for the “full experience”.

Quotes I love:

La Rue: Don’t you know it’s bad luck to let retards in your home?

Lulu: I’m gonna get an abortion and I can’t WAIT!

Francine: Coitus Interruptus?

Lulu: I never wanted to use macramé to kill!

Todd: Let me kiss away your D.T.s, honey.

The only John Waters movie I have owned up until this point is “Serial Mom”. I fear owning movies I’m obsessed with because I know that I will watch them over and over and OVER again and then hate them. That aside, I now have my very own copy of  “Polyester”, and that’s okay, because listening to John Waters commentaries will always fill me with joy.

That’s a vintage dress from “Red Light“. Speaking of Red Light, it may be just about time for my bi-yearly pilgrimage. I don’t need anything, but need isn’t really the point, is it?

We stayed up far too late for elderly people last night watching “The Boondock Saints“. I had recently watched a documentary on the extremely unlikeable writer/director of “Saints” on his quick rise to fame, shun by Miramax, and then eventual release of the film, peppered with chain smoking and lots of rageaholic screaming and egotistical rants so I thought what the hell, let’s see what all the fuss is about. Verdict: it was okay. Willem Dafoe steals the show as the gay FBI agent (he’s terrifying in drag). I’m still a little haunted by Willem in “Antichrist”. Oooh boy.

Yesterday I thought it would be a good idea to mix up a big bucket of black RIT dye and dye all of my black clothing items blacker, since black clothes fade over time and I hate that. Everything soaked in the bucket of dye  overnight, and now I have it in the washer on a light cycle, so we’ll see how stained the washer is when it’s through. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Naturally.

I needed more cookies and ginger ale so I drove to Walgreens with the girls and on the way home we stopped at the creepy little park for run/fetch/fun times. The moment I let the dogs off their leashes we ran into an extremely obese woman clutching a tiny animal to her ample chest. It took me a moment to figure out what the animal was.

“Is that a cat?” I said, even though I could tell it was (translation: what the hell is a cat doing here?).

“Yes, it’s a cat,” she sniffed, then added haughtily, “We’re practicing leash training.”

Oh Christ. Cats at the dog park? What is this world coming to? I tried boosting my lackluster energy with an energy drink while at the park. I hadn’t had an energy drink since the Mega Panic Attack of Spring 2008, and thought, what the hell. DISGUSTING! How did I ever used to drink those things? Maybe I could tolerate them back when I was smoking since all of my taste buds were dead, but no longer. I’m just going to have to ride out this wave of laziness…on the couch. Yesterday’s couch movies: “The House of Yes” and “Signs”.

Memorable quotes from “The House of Yes”:

Marty: Are you being wise?
Jackie-O: One day I woke up wise.
Marty: One day I woke up stupid.
Jackie-O: What’d you do?
Marty: I went back to bed.
Jackie-O: That was wise.

Jackie-O: They’ve switched me–I used to be green, now I’m brown. I wanted my pills to match my eyes. Color me beautiful!

Lesly: I don’t think you’re insane.
Jackie-O: You don’t?
Lesly: No.
Jackie-O: You don’t think I’m an eensie weensie bit insane?
Lesly: I don’t think you’re insane. I think you’re just spoiled.
Jackie-O: [exasperated] Oh please, if everyone around here is going to start telling the truth, I’m going to bed.

Tom Waits has a new album called “Glitter and Doom”. That’s a damn fine name for an album. Now if you’ll pardon me, it’s couch time.