Despite the manner of the London bombings–spread out as they were, geographically and chronologically–I was never really worried about my sister. Some people just aren’t the rush-hour type.
In fact, from the email I received yesterday, it sounds like Tiff was at home when everything went down, still celebrating the release of her first single, “Miss USA,” now available at HMV (well, at lease HMV/UK). Sometimes I guess it pays to be an ex-pat, alt-lifestyle, electroclash queen….
Wow. Cindy.
You think Cindy, you think of Cindy Brady, Cindy Crawford, Cindy Lou Who, who was no more than two. Who knew Cindy could be such a bitch? Seriously, I don’t think I’ve seen/heard/felt (it’s a drafty, old house remember) wind like that in a very long time.
Odd thing is, last night’s weather was actually pleasant. The temperature, I mean. Usually when hurricanes come through, it’s muggy and hot, and when the power goes out, it’s unbearable–so uncomfortable, you have to down a fistful of sleeping pills just to get some shut-eye. But last night, even without a/c and ceiling fans, it was fine. I moved my pillow to the wood floor, which was considerably cooler than the bed, but apart from that, no big whoop. And the juice came back on after just four hours–way sooner than expected. Not too shabby for such a mean-spirited low-pressure system.
In other news, Pensacola just can’t get a freaking break.
An Independence Day List of 13 People, Places, and Things
From Which I Have Declared My Own Independence
1. Mom (just the adoptive one), apple pie, and baseball
Too many issues, too many carbs, and too hard to find 17 other faggots to play a decent game.2. The Velvet Mafia
Although the bloody gerbil head I found on my pillow may mean I’ve already been booted out.3. The Lindsay Lohan Fan Club
My time, energy, and disposable income have been re-allocated to Mr. Jesse Bradford.4. Tom Robbins
After years of valiant attempts, I’ve made absolutely no headway on his oeuvre. And yes, ladies, I’ve tried Even Cowgirls Get the Blues. It’s a lost cause.5. Alternative faggotry
Speaking of lost causes… I mean, seriously: I can’t be the only one who wants to beat Rufus Wainwright to a pulp.6. Antiques Roadshow
It was cute at first, but one more $20,000 toothpick, and I think I’ll scream.7. Ming Tsai
His hotfuckability has been outweighed by his chronic case of assholism.8. Takeout from China Wall
In light of #7 above, this does not constitute a revolt against the whole of Chinese cuisine–just against its fat calories. Besides, I’m keeping the option to receive deliveries at home.9. Sanity
The addition of a fourth dog to our household was the stray that broke the camel’s back.10. The American Songbook
A result of that cinematic train wreck otherwise known as Delovely.11. Dilbert
We get it: you’re a nerd.12. Party Politics
<facetiousness>Unless it’s an Oscar party, Mary!</facetiousness>13. The Amish
Admittedly, not a difficult one since I’ve never even met an Amish person, but I needed something to round out the list…
Minnesota Marys Face Holiday Hook-up Horror
ST. PAUL, Minn. (AP) — Some state offices closed and about 9,000 state employees were jobless Friday after parts of Minnesota’s government shut down for the first time in state history, leaving most rest stops closed for the Independence Day weekend.
It may not be the funniest lede/lead paragraph ever written, but it’s certainly one of the oddest. Clearly, some trucker-chaser at the Associated Press is very concerned about his Fourth of July frolics. (Insert Roman candle joke here.)
Meanwhile, on the homefront…
Harrah’s to unmask $15M nightclub
“We are going to start redefining night life in New Orleans,” said Harrah’s spokeswoman Sandie McNamara.
The casino hosted members of the press this afternoon for a preview of the club, which opens tomorrow evening at 6 p.m. Masquerade, which is in the former Jazz Court, is designed to be more of an attraction than a nightclub…. Male and female cocktail servers double as performers, slinging trays of drinks one minute and then sashaying to sing and dance on several small circular stages dotted around the club.
Harrah’s calls the concept “bevertainment.”
By “redefining,” Harrah’s apparently means adding new words to the hideously inflated dictionary of marketing.
Bevertainment? Seriously, people: that’s the worst neologism since “appeteaser”–though it’s still not quite as bad as “cheesoning“.
On the upside, maybe the club’ll draw some of the vile frat rats out of the gutters of Bourbon Street (where the entertainment is definitely of the “beavertainment” variety) and across Canal. Then, all we’ll need is one well-placed explosive device….
So apparently, my friend was wrong. According to several of you–whom I’m trusting with the same blind faith I used to place in my alleged friend–the ending of War of the Worlds is, and I quote, “textbook Wells.” Which doesn’t make Stevie any less schmaltzy or Tom Cruise, PhD any less psychotic; it simply means that their tendencies cancelled one-another out, and they managed to create an engaging bit of big screen entertainment. This time.
Hump-Day Tidbits
POTENTIAL SPOILER: WAR OF THE WORLDS
[consider yourself warned, bitch]
Maybe this is old news to everyone else, but to me, it’s brand spanking new: last night a friend fed me some very disturbing dish about the upcoming Steven Spielberg/Tom Cruise lovefest otherwise known as War of the Worlds. Said friend–who works in the media and who, in less than 24 hours, was able to find and burn a copy of Patty Duke’s gruesome, ill-conceived Valley of the Dolls album, so you know he’s well-connected–informed me that la Spielberg had taken certain liberties with the story’s conclusion. Specifically, the whole aliens vs. mankind, battle-to-the-death thing is gone, replaced by a dark comedy of miscommunication that reminds me of that episode of Three’s Company where Jack overhears half of a telephone conversation in which Chrissy seems to be planning the extinction of mankind, but in reality she’s just asking Janet if she’ll help pull together a bake sale for the local leper colony.
So anyway, near the end of the film, the aliens apparently start communicating with the humans, and they’re all, like, “Omigod! We are, like, so totally sorry about all that noise and destruction and death and stuff. It’s just that, you know, your atmosphere is different than what we’re used to, and we got a little freaked out. Kinda like, high, you know….” They go on to explain that they were recently booted off their home planet, and they’re really just looking for somewhere else to settle. Then, everyone walks off, hand-in-hand (or whatever kind of extremities these outer space varmints have), toward the battle-scarred-but-rebuildable horizon. So, basically, it’s an hour and 56 minutes worth of Dakota Fanning, Tom Cruise, and endless rounds of “Kum-By-freaking-Ya.”
If my friend’s right, I’m starting a collection to take out a hit on Stevie. (PayPal can handle that, right?) I mean, Schindler’s List was bad enough, but stoned alien retirees…?
Um, is anyone else a little concerned that Bush’s ratings slump might encourage him to shift gears and focus on something that’ll re-galvanize his base–say, a gay marriage amendment, perhaps?
It’s gonna be pretty quiet here in sturtleville for the next few days. Between a three-day conference in Baton Rouge and rushing back to New Orleans every night to rehearse several different shows, I doubt I’m going to find much time to write. So in the meantime, do yourself a favor:
I’ll see you later this week….
sturtle [dot] com 