Hulk Springs Eternal

Saks have big sale. You go too, hurry. Hulk buy new dress. Hulk LOVE dress.

Now Hulk look like proper harlot, not Little Bo Peep.

Sexy Hulk, need Jimmy Choos.

-xxoo

Posted 10:15 AM by Licketysplit

Everything's Coming Up Roses



Poor Licketysplit is floundering in a sea of tulle and chintz! Bridal fittings are not for the faint-hearted. They require the desire to stand for hours in the center of a puff-pastry-like object, facing the mirror, and barking orders in manner of Leona Helmsley to the fawning sprites with mouths full of pins. Our Lickety has that sort of courage...screw it, we are calling on Gaultier! Then she can sit on a sofa eating chocolate cherries while Heidi Klum manxes around in various outfits until lickety has found the one that rings her bell.

I attended a wedding on Sunday in Andover, the place where White People were invented. This was my first voluntary wedding, and I was only on my second drink when I was surprised to be overcome by a feeling of joy and pleasure while watching my friends shake hands with their guests, looking happy but confused. Who knew there was something else to be done at a wedding besides cringe?
Congratulations, J&J!

While others are joyfully uniting, I am afraid I must part from my daytime swain, Mr. James Rockford. I have finally wormed my way into some kind of job. It requires trousers with a crease and non-threatening footwear. It also requires punctuality and attention to detail, so I hope you will all include me in your prayers or bag-waah or whatever the hell it is you people all do when you aren't watching people humiliate themselves on tv.

-xo

Posted 12:38 PM by Lambchop

A totally hypothetical vignette

Hulk go to bridal salon. Hulk try on dress again. Hulk HATE dress. Who will make Hulk pretty now?

Hulk cry.

Why Hulk ever eat carbs? Hulk looking for love in wrong place.

Hulk watch Oprah. Hulk feel empowered, call other bridal salon who better at fawning in English.

-xxoo

Posted 10:30 AM by Licketysplit

HULK SMASH

Posted 1:49 PM by Licketysplit

Unemployment Haiku

Lambchop knows many people are out of work these days. Some of you are sitting in your underwear all day and sobbing. Others are enjoying noon cocktails and cashing a check. Still others are scouring want ads and pressing their trousers daily, full of vain hope. We can all agree that the great thing about joblessness, is Jim Rockford.



Cap'n Crunch with Jim
Is the best part Of My Day
Breakfast, 3pm

-xo

Posted 11:52 AM by Lambchop

What a cut-up

This morning I awoke from a bizarre Tylenol PM-fueled dream that I was a spectator at a reality TV show featuring celebrity amputations. There was a glossy multi-tiered set, a cheering crowd, a dapper host (Ryan Seacrest?). I woke up, groggy and rubbing my eyes, not sure if I dreamed that or not. The name of the show escapes me, but I know it was something incredibly twee, like "Cut It Out!" Come to think of it, they should have gotten Dave Coulier.

The celebrities were pleased to be featured, and they were trotted out and an extraneous extremity was pruned with the benefit of local anesthetic, their choice of machete or mini guillotine. White uniformed medical professionals were in attendance, overseeing everything very seriously. The amputations had little catch phrases depending on the part in question. Jennifer Anniston got all the toes on one foot off; that one was called "The Footsie Tootsie."

It all started getting hazy after something went awry with the severing of Jim J. Bullock's forearm from the rest of him. A hazard of live TV I guess. Paramedics came, and then suddenly I realized the set was in the middle of a giant Pier 1. And Kirstie Alley was there, trying to sell me some fake sea grass. Arghhhhhhhhhh!

Can someone please tell me why there are C-list stars in my dreams? I am never taking Tylenol PM again, even if I stay up for 3 days. I've worked 7 days straight, looking at another 5. My marbles are rolling around in my head, all loosey goosey like.

-xxoo

Posted 8:58 PM by Licketysplit

Tequila Sunrises and other forces of nature



Your intrepid lambchop is still in search of gainful employ. Walking through Post Office Square at lunchtime is like entering a yuppie petting zoo. If only there were dispensers of kibble. I take heart from the monument to the Hungarian Revolution on Kilby Street. It looks like a woman holding up a baby and the plaque quotes Kennedy "it was a day of courage, conscience, and triumph..." Looking for work does not have much in common with bloody uprisings (no threat of evisceration, really) and yet i mutter this phrase to myself before every hearty handshake with a prospective employer. Which is very likely the reason I am still looking for a job.

I should just change my title to:

flaneur \flah-NUR\, noun:
One who strolls about aimlessly; a lounger; a loafer.

The studio practice is back in full swing. Stay tuned and see!

Yesterday I was on the loose with my pal Stu. We drove through perilous lightning and cracking thunder. We drank pink gin and tonics with our friend Mr. King and wrestled on the wet asphalt. We took turns racing Mr. King's bicycle down the rain slicked street and Stu came up bloody. We thought he was kidding. Sometime around four it began to rain again and we just stood in the street getting rained on.

xo

Posted 8:28 PM by Lambchop

Ooh-la-la, Sassoon



Hello there folks! I trust your 4th of July was painted red, white and blue. My neighbor Flora and I made enough lobster macaroni salad to feed all of Epsom! It gave me a touch of the gas, though. Mayonnaise will do that.

Thel' has more exciting doings to report- my daughter Jessica got a raise over at the Help Center and she treated me to a haircut at VIDAL SASSOON. "ooh-la-la", I said! Not since my son was born has anyone but Rosie Fitch touched my hair, but I am not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so I called and made an appointment with someone named Giacomo. I was a little bit nervous so I put on my Sunday finest and drove on up to the city. The nice lady at the desk gave me a blue robe to put on and sent me into the bathroom. I did not know what to make of that. I didn't know if I was supposed to undress or tinkle in a cup or what, so I just threw the thing on over my clothes. Then another nice lady with a very deep voice washed my hair and massaged my scalp! She even offered me coffee. For free!

Then it was time for me to meet Giacomo. Only I was so excited I kept calling him Vidal by mistake. We chatted about my two wonderful kids and his partner while he snipped away like nobody's business. And well, when he was done, I just loved it! Wait until all the ladies at the Golden Age Society see! Any of you folks out there that have too much hair, should really go to Vidal.

Don't worry, Rosie, I will be back in your chair come next tuesday!

God Bless,
Thelma Haney

Posted 6:55 PM by Lambchop

if it's not love, then its the bomb...

The last few weeks on the run have finally caught up to your poor lambchop. I spent a lovely day of recovery in the wilds of the south shore with my sick pal Stu. He bought me big sunglasses and I made him a fancy chicken.



Oh my casbah is rocked. Friday night I went to see Rock Bottom, a 70's cover band. We're talking mulleted wigs and plaid flares. We're talking Love Hurts and smoking way too much. We're talking I am going to stay quietly at home and make paper dolls out of the Times this fine Sunday.

Good times, good times.

-xo

Posted 4:33 PM by Lambchop

Bless my buttons

Today is stressful. I bet you people think my life is all fun and games, an endless blur of sucking champagne from the navels of cabana boys, but that's a dirty lie. A misconception.

In a traumatic turn of events, I had to decide which stamp to use on my wedding invitation. I am allergic to my wedding anyway. The invites that we thought we could do ourselves ended up requiring an emergency overnight trip to Sir Speedy for printing. Sir Speedy lived up to his royal image and did a great job though. After much hemming and hawing, I went with the Andy Warhol stamp.



I know I'm not legally married unless the invite bears a "Love" stamp, but nothing says "this is a big production that bores me terribly" like Andy. The best part is that the invite requires 2 stamps, so I can have a proper Andy diptych. And Mr. H pointed out that it "works with our color scheme." We love it, yes we do.

-xxoo

Posted 2:19 PM by Licketysplit

and still more...



Day Five: At last yonder lies the smog of LA, beyond the infinite snake of traffic. Jim's new place is very SoCal- porticos, palms, and a pool. I schlepped his stuff inside with the help of some big boys. My reward was to drown myself in likker at a bar in Westwood Village. Afterwards we went to Denny's. This is LA and so the Denny's did not have the low rent Country Kitchen decor or a bag of crack beneath my seat (hooray for Denny's, New Haven!). Nope, it was real swankeroo- all neon tubes, chrome, and red and blue vinyl. The boys were laying out odds on whether their friend, who had gone off with some chick, was going to get any and how and how much. It felt like a scene out of Swingers. Don't ask me if that's good.

Day 6, 4am: LA just was not agreeing with me so I called up my Dad in the Phoenix area:

Me: "hey Dad, wanna go for a ride?"
Him:"glllmmmmph."

But within six hours we were on the road to San Francisco along the Pacific coastal highway. We passed Big Sur in a light fog. We stopped to stand on the beach and watch the green waves break. I stood on a cliff and watched the seals diving.

We stopped in Monterey and Cannery Row. Steinbeck is long gone and a fire swept away some of the canneries, but we had clam chowder bread boules. We stayed in a Motel 6 in Gilroy, the garlic capitol. One cannot doubt the distinction well-applied when one wafts into the town on a thick garlic breeze.

Day Seven-Ten: We hit San Francisco and found a sheltered path to an out of the way beach looking out on the Golden Gate and Bay bridges.



I saw a Chinese fisherman catch a stingray and let him go.



We went over to the piers where the scent of fish and fried clams mingled with the sight of Alcatraz, the bustle of tourists, the green tides, and sailboats. Pier 39 is now solely occupied by sea lions.



I had supper in a Chinatown eatery and my fortune cookie read You will soon be surrounded by good friends and laughter.

It was a sixteen hour drive to Wickenburg, Arizona, where my dad lives. We took a five minute nap on an exit in the California desert. He was confused when he woke up and made an illegal hard right onto the interstate going the wrong way down the on-ramp. And smokey was sitting just a few yards away. He was clearly flummoxed by the overall strategy of my dad's driving but he liked lambchop's smile and we got off scot free. I didn't even have my seat belt on.

I spent the next few days in the Arizona desert, eating jalapeno mac and cheese with my dad and posing with his collecting of antique weapons. He has a Walther PPK, a .357 Magnum, and a bayoneted WWII rifle still notched from the Battle of Berlin. Yee-f@#$%ing-Haw!

After driving back to LA to catch my plane, I eventually woke up in Boston, threw my swimsuit and Barbie beach towel in a bag and took a bus up to Bristol, NH where my friends draped me with lei's and a coconut bra and sailor hats. We cha cha'd and drank enormous cocktails. We floated on the river all day on giant blow up flowers with floating drink caddies. We watched 70s porn and ate shrimps crusted with coconut and black beans and corn. We went to brunch for bloody marys and eggs benedict. On Sunday, we went to a huge arcade where we could play old atari games but we were scolded for riding the mechanical horses. (We snuck a photo on the bumper cars anyway). But mostly we just swam and paddled up and down the river, drinking, eating fourth of july cupcakes, and laughing till we puked. Lambchop loves the lovely friends!



...and that's all!

-xo

Posted 1:48 PM by Lambchop

The fog


Went to Peaks Island for the 4th.



Max from Where The Wild Things Are found a marble that looked like a bloody eyeball. Well, I spotted it, but made him dig it up with his wee paws.



It's important to have a smashing rock. For smashing. Just wait til that kid reads Lord of the Flies.



It really was foggy.






-xxoo

Posted 11:38 AM by Licketysplit

Alien Fetus Putty with my Latte



Day Three: Texas just goes on and on and on. By the third day of Texas, I was ready to see something besides Texas. It was a zillon degrees in the middle of nowhere, West Texas, when we decided to let the truck run out of gas. The handy thing about having a cell phone is that there are no cells in nowhere, West Texas. We got the truck to roll about 3 miles on empty before we disembarked to head for a nearby gas station on foot. I hadn't gotten five feet before I saw the carcass of a deer on the side of the road, completely desiccated, its head and cloudy eye tilted searchingly toward the hazy sky, as if to say Help Me God Why? I tried not to think about that or the blistering heat. Shazzam! Within two minutes, we were within sight of the station. And with that, we cheated death. So screw you, deer. Stupid spiritual guide.

After what seemed like a thousand miles of staring at discredited landscape painting while the sun went down, and the silhouettes of oil pumps and their pendulous motion in an otherwise barren land, we finally made it to New Mexico.

Day Four: We woke up in Roswell. It was not as sad and hopeless as I thought it would be. Rather, it has turned this whole alien obsession into a hip and kitschy strip. Silver flying saucers sticking out the sides of buildings, UFO marquees; even the streetlights had alien heads for globes. I had the best cup of coffee in the southwest in a starbucks type cafe. And alien souveniers galore. Knowing how much Lickety loves aliens, fetuses, and especially putty, I was joyful to find the three combined! Hurray for Roswell!

We left around midday and headed for Phoenix. I met up with my dad along the way and we had dinner at this spiffy mexican joint where I picked up margarita glasses as big as my head, in the shape of a sombrero-ed hombre y mujer. My dad showed me around Phoenix a bit and we sat at this beautiful old church sharing a smoke before I had to hit the road. Thanks Dad!

By the time we got to Blythe, California, I was delirious. Wacky mexican polka on the radio pervaded my half sleeping consciousness the whole way.

-xo

Posted 4:48 PM by Lambchop

It looks like a porcupine

This morning at the mini mart, I almost got knocked over by a woman trying to haul her brood of monster children out the door.

"Bioré, get OVER here!" she shrieked.

"Bzzzt!" went my cerebral cortex. Yes, it really sounds like a bug zapper. Did I just hear that correctly? Bioré was busy ripping open packets of Fun Dip at the counter and had to be hollered at again and again. Yep, there was no way I misheard a more "traditional" name.

By the time I got my card out of the ATM, acid-washed mommy had succeeded in getting the kids back to the truck. Luckily Nivea, Olay, Almay, and Little Max Factor were better behaved.

-xxoo

Posted 10:43 AM by Licketysplit

Don't mess with Texas



Day One: I headed out of New Orleans fueled by a last stop at the Drive-Thru Daquiri. Drive-Thru Daquiri! After preparing thusly for the long drive to LA, we set off through the bayou, stopping in St. Martinville, heart of Cajun country. We are talking giant elms and lazy. lily pad covered currents and air as thick as honey. Then we took a ferry over the Gulf of Mexico, landing in Galveston, Texas. It was dark and hot and wet. The seagulls flew in low as I stood on the bow, getting sprayed with saltwater. Texas was this endlessly huge dark thing up ahead. I never felt so small.

The sprawl of Houston seemed interminable, but we finally hit the central part and stopped there. The people in this restaurant were crazily friendly. We ate pie and watched some Cheers re-runs they were playing off a DVD. So there I was chewing on raw texas beef, a thousand miles from Boston and, well, you know.

Houston was pretty beat, so we did a long burn all the way to Austin.

Day Two: We stayed at a Motel 6, standing over the balcony in the broiling midday looking out over a sad and dingy pool where a man was frying himself to a bacony consistency. I spent the day milling around downtown and at sundown saw the great exodus of bats from beneath the bridge. It was an unreal swarm. Then we looked around the strip at the University of Texas Austin. I saw the Whitman tower and walked the plaza where those folks were mowed down by the be-tumored sniper. We searched in vain along the downtown strip for a rockabilly show, but hell, it was monday night, so we settled for a yummy Austin beer in a bar that was kinda punk until this wretched second band took the stage in which some fat guy screeched about sodomizing us, to its tuneless cacophany of muffled guitar and a ululating backup singer.

-xo from the road

Posted 3:33 PM by Lambchop