All posts by Lambchop

Memorieeeeees…

Uncategorized,

These are some very nice people. They have moved to your neighborhood of Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Be nice to them. Approach them with flowers and dinner invitations and you will receive some fine company.

Last night I spent a long time perusing Violet’s fine photographs, missing them and thinking of the Manhattan skyline, back then visible from my high school on the hill in Jersey City, and now from their living room. When I was fifteen I could ride a bike (borrowed from a neighborhood skate boy, we never had bikes)to the waterfront and those glittering gray slabs of promises loomed right there, but we could go no farther than the grimy Hudson, pitching cigarettes into the oily drink and going home before we got in trouble.

Maybe some time I will go the rest of the way. I miss the lights.

-xo

That’s Entertainment!

Uncategorized, ,

This is Bob. I can’t really tell you what happened to Bob but I can tell you it was a lot of fun and you should all go and see “Pony Trouble” when it disgraces your local porn theater. The shoot continues to go swimmingly and I have actually picked up some tips for the scripts I am working on. Pine Valley here I come!

In other news, the Smugglers and I did Rollerskating II (electric boogaloo). I love to whirl around the rink, but I think I will never learn to skate backwards. Which is strange, because that’s how I do pretty much everything else. The teen girls at the rink are a frightening species. You take one look at their mean, kohled eyes and their protruding thongs and you know that giving blowjobs is right up next to having a slice of pizza and kicking some bitches ass, in the list of their Saturday night activities. My Saturday night on the other hand included Taco Bell, Orange Julius, and trying on new tiaras at Claire’s Accessories. Maybe I am just simple!

-xo

It’s in the Can

Uncategorized, ,

Shooting is underway for My Little Porny or Pony Girls, or whatever this movie ends up being called. I play Eve, a psychotic and pouty goth-ish girl who, spoiled by easy circumstances and bored out of existence, heads a thrill cult obsessed with My Little Pony. And things just go awry from there. It has been a lot of fun so far, and there is a lot of talent on this low-fi set. The scenes we have shot so far involve a lot of twitching, screaming, and looking creepy. My acting experience is not much but heaven knows, I excel at those things! And Jude, love, if you are reading, you may be my date for the premier, no? What’s that, “still married?” Well, I’ll call next week. I wonder what James Spader is doing?

Oh where was I? Reality calls! I am thinking of taking a sabbatical from gainful employ, in order to work on painting, to apply for genius grants, and to answer all those desperate pleas for my work, my attention, my opinions! Once I have had some time to finish this dazzling new body of work, and ruin someone’s life, I will be ready enough to consider working again. This time around I want to work in television! We need more incest and underwear on the airwaves! And startling deeds done in impossible footwear. I would share some of my tele-vision with you, but you horrible people will steal all of my ideas. Screw you! Fiends! Churls!

(The part of Lambchop will now be played by Andrea Evans.- ed)

-xo

Playing Nice

Uncategorized,

There are Machiavellian shenanigans going on here at the office. Think “War of the Roses”. I am going to go mad, mad I tell you! I cannot give a proper vent to my feelings on the person who is causing me such ire, but I tell you that the treatment I currently have the pleasure of receiving is like being forced to line dance while wearing a diaper full of broken glass. I wake up knowing that the only thing on my plate are cold lima beans. So, to the individual who is daily urinating on my cake, I say Fick dich du verdammter Arschloch! Deine Mutter ist ‘ne Hure!! Lutsch Schwanz in der Hoelle! Stirb! Stirb! Stirb! Maybe it is time to consider a new career. Meaning, *a* career. As luck would have it, I am in the midst of negotiations for a portrait commission. If all goes well, I will be jetting off to Berlin in a matter of weeks, to make two paintings, pocket some Euros, and have a bit of Spaetzle and vacation.

For now, I am going to go outside and scream at traffic.

-xo

Rouge Rising Star

Uncategorized, ,

Last week’s entertainment brought us to the opening the very talented Scarlet Harlot, our own Julie Lohnes, at the Chase Gallery on Newbury Street. I lay on the pink velvet, I walked barefoot on the installation. Miss Lohnes, like me, delves into the Secret Life of Women. This work will seduce you with pinks and fleshy colored wax that beckons with sultry, amorphic forms. Something revolting is at the same time revealed to us in the presence of so much pink crushed velvet, like the cheap evening gown of a stripper, upon whose pillowy softness you are invited to tread. This work approaches tackiness and beauty with such care that they are not to be extricated from one another. The luxury here is inevitably louche and mysterious.

Straight up our alley!

We celebrated with Red Splendour martinis, made of pomegranate and vodka. They made my mouth sticky.

-xo

P.S. It’s funny when cats fall down and attack children.

How the Other Halves Live

Uncategorized, ,

The past few days have found me in the unlikeliest of places. For Mr. Anderson’s birthday on Sunday, I put on sneakers and went to Six Flags. I am one of those people that enjoy rides. Ahem. If there were a ride called “Operation Station” in which you spun in a centrifuge while having a kidney removed, I would queue up, clapping my hands. I did “Superman: Ride of Steel” twice, once plummeting into the mist cave in the dark. Awesome! A beautiful sunny Sunday in a theme park does have its dark side- The People. Inbreeding apparently still abounds in western Mass. There was a cloud of extra chromosomes hovering over a good portion of the thrillseekers. You have not lived until you have seen a raft weighted down by The Specialtons, all waving their sausage arms and hooting down the log flume. At the very end we all rode the carousel together, eating caramel apples and feeling as though life can furnish nothing greater than a stuffed leopard, your laughing friends, and a calliope. And Batman.

Yesterday I went to my very first ever Red Sox game at Fenway Park. There I truly felt like an imposter, an intruding interloping outsider. Because I have lived here and there around this fair city for years, always skirting Fenway and its loud, “R”-omitting, keg tapping, date rapers. I have kamikaze’d through game time traffic on my bike, and borne the loud talking, red-faced crowds on the T. I have endured their insults and their odors. So strange to be among them. My firm had a luxury box for a company summer outing. So the hot dogs were all catered and such. Our names appeared first up on the big screen in the 7th Inning Stretch. There was little else to enjoy beyond gluttony, nice weather, and an old ballpark, as the Red Sox, true to form, lost 8-3. I got a ride home from the Big Boss in his BMW cabrio. Now that’s surreal.

-xo

The Way We Were…

Uncategorized,

Look at us as tender tots. An innocent parade of undies? No! The impertinent slatterns already show their true colors! Speaking of sluttish behavior, many of you have asked if we are concerned about breaking the law by disseminating pornographic materials. We had a little meeting. We decided that just as a tree falling in the woods makes no sound if no one is there to hear it, a picture is only obscene when you start putting your hands in your pockets. So keep ’em where we can see ’em!

Last night I was falling asleep in front of Dirty Pretty Things (drum fill, please) and swearing to everyone who called me that I was not going out. But upon the insistence of Mr. Drinks (his actual name), I was slipping into spiked heels and a stripey top and off we were. When I am dancing at two in the morning to “Sheila Take a Bow” and tipsy on Long Island Iced Tease, I feel the happiness of defying my age, my job, and all sense of responsibility. Maybe that”s complete crap, but haven’t you ever thrown your homework onto the fire?

-xo

P.S. guess which one of us is which and win a Hyundai Etcetera!

Getting Awesome

Uncategorized, ,

I got my hand caught in an elevator door today, and the passengers inside did not hit “doors open” right away, preferring to leave me stuck and twisting in pain. Sneaker ‘n’ Suit wearing Bastards.

I can’t wait until I move to New York, and can get my hand stuck in more affluent places. Actually I was thinking of moving on to my former home town, Jersey City. Then the Creator would truly have the last laugh, as I always swore that city is a hell to which I would never return. Actually, it’s kind of cute and has a movie theater now. So they say.

The main thing I need to get famous, and stop drinking flavored coffee in this air conditioned facsimile of purgatory. But my Boston sell-by date has not yet arrived. For now, my immediate plans include making boys wear makeup, and making paintings of them. Oh and eating another cookie.

Byeeee!

Take me to your Leader

Uncategorized, ,

Licketysplit is out valiantly supporting kerry in the wake of the havoc caused by Democracy in this quarter. You should see her out there in the 90 degree heat in her chainmail and armor, brandishing sword and shield, and passing out flyers. It seems that Mr. Bush wants to appoint a fellow to the FDA’s council on women’s health who opposes contraception, and favors prayer as a PMS remedy. Lord have mercy on anyone in our vicinity should that become a practice!

These are trying times. So I did what any respectable leader would do and I went on vacation. In Provincetown, the lavendar capital of Massachusetts, I climbed out on the breakers in platforms, ate lots of CLAM, and got my picture taken with Kandi Kane, who said I was a caution. Then I ended up in the tattoo parlor chair, at long last to get a sailor tattoo with a lambchop motif, but they threw me out. Apparently it is against policy to ink anyone who is stinking drunk and puking on the tiles. Well, i will be back! After all, one of my oldest college friends (looks like Bernadette Peters!) summers there with her swell mate. And it was beautiful and there are many more places I wish to be thrown out of.

To sum up, to Licketsplit’s message of “don’t vote for that shithead”, I would like to add “don’t vote for that shithead”. Or you will find me from here on out on the cape, sailing up and down Commercial Street on an electric scooter with a 7 foot tall Cher-a-like.

-xo