All posts by Lambchop

Behold my Awesomeness

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I have finally finished my portrait of my roommate Abbs, a soft and lovely girl. I painted her like someone that you imagine smells nice…and has bruises on her legs. I have started a new one of a cigar sucking androgyn. An athlete with long brown hair and polka dots. I am going to paint all the lovely girls of my acquaintance, so stay tuned. Oh, and if you happen to be one of these, do volunteer! And pull the sailor suit out of your closet and your crutches and your favorite underwear and purple eyeshadow and get your cans over to my house!

In other news of stunning feats, I cleaned my room.

I am also pleased to report that I Feel F°!”§ing Awesome because I went to the gym yesterday and rowed 60 lbs, like, until I died. Then I came home and gorged on lasagna. Like Garfield. So I went back to the gym again today and redid my good work of yesterday. And I feel like I could kill someone with my bare hands. Like really overpower someone and strangle them while their blows across my chest grow weaker and weaker. ahem.

Hooray for feeling good!

It’s time for sushi and sake. and violence.

-xo

Anniversary in the Vomitorium

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Vomitola is celebrating its Very First Birthday! As we look back upon a whole year of gay porn star country singers, spectacular outfits, visits to the pope, and anal leakage, one has to marvel at the variety and depth of our experiences. Or one could content themselves with marveling at our sleek hairdos.

But it hasn’t all been one grand binge ‘n’ purge! Vomitola has had its troubles, too. The deadlines, the screaming fights over which Queer Eye is our favorite, the endless offers of sex. Why, Kitty Winn is still in Rehab!

Running the show here is an intense drama. We wish to thank all of you who like to read about our triumphant shopping trips and our tumbles down flights of stairs. We do it all for you.

-xo with sugar on top

Sooooo Good!

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My house is a really great place to watch bad movies. Because we have a fireplace and a lot of ire. Last night offered Ghost Ship, a movie whose only exciting moment occurred in the first five minutes when a roomful of people are halved by a rope and then slide apart like so many wide-eyed steaks. The Movie was aware that it had nothing else, and let us enjoy it again as a flashback later on.

P.S. Julianne Margulies is not Sigourney Weaver. Even in her mondo-sportsbra.

It’s another frostbitey day but I don’t mind. Licketysplit is going to come over and we are going to knit little caps with kitten ears on them. Then we are going to watch Squirm in between slippery mouthfuls of lo mein.

Someone come with me to Lisbon. We’ll eat spicy fish and get low octane New Englander tans and draw pictures of comically oversized genitals in the sand on the beach. We’ll go to a museum. Pretty please?

Let’s All Meet up in the Year 2000

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Herr Trinkwasser had a Pulparty last night. It’s great to get together and say We are Obsessed. We all put on sunglasses and the boys did their Jarvis imitations. There was deep trilling and manic shaking of hips. Oh Jarvis and your teetering glass of Whiskey. Oh Jarvis and your hands that dart like white birds.

They call me “chip whore” because I can consume my own weight in nachos.

I sat in a corner With Girls and invented vicious new rumors. They twirled sparkly swizzle sticks and snarky comments.

We Love Life!

Oh My Goodness!

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Ever just feel unloved? No, you are far too amazing? Well, if you ever do, just cut out Poor Little Rich Girl and make her dance to this perky little tune:

When I say it’s day

you say it´s night

When I say it´s black

you say it’s white

Tell me,

what’s wrong with you Baby?

At times I ought to hate you

You make me so blue

But honestly I can’t hate you

when you smile at me the way you do

Oh My Goodness!

I don’t know what it is thats so irresistible- the sailor suit, the squeaky voice, boing boing curls, or charmingly sucking on one’s pinky. In uncertain times, you better go with all four.

Frau In Exile

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Some of you have been asking “where in the H-E-double-hockeysticks is Lambchop?” The answer is Maui, of course. In an evening gown. Like Tina Louise.

For those of you who prefer reality, and some of you actually purport to, I am still hackiliciously ill. I almost took a day off work. My pal Stu offered to drive me in, however, and so I put on my fur hat and 12 degrees below zero sure does interesting things. We were off to a merry start, breathing thick plumes of vapor and fiddling with the radio, but the joke was on us. We had a FLAT. I did finally make it, thanks to the umcomplaining speed with which Stu changed the tire. It is possible to get through a situation like that without ranting a vile stream of oaths. Who knew?

I worked two hours of overtime just so I could get a complimentary taxi ride home.

Unfortunately, there went my ride to go see my friend’s gallery opening in New Haven. My old pal Chris Mir is among my favorite living painters. Plus, he is really hot, which everyone should be if they can help it. I will fill you in when This Charming Man opens again in New York.

Aside from my adventure yesterday, I have been keeping to my room, because when I laugh, I am bent over in a coughing fit and its getting a bit too urchin-y. So I will emerge at some point, swan-like and breathing velvet. See you then!

-xo

Hospital Johnny

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In a grim display of foreshadowing, I watched the grade B Zombie Nightmare last night. This morning found me arising at an unholy hour to go to the radiologist. I found myself sitting in a little Kabine with a bench and a mirror and a Barium shake. I lay on a table that tilted me like a bottle of pop to shake my contents. The cute technician took photos of my small intestine. He let me keep the plastic barium shake bottles with the built in crazy straw. They have pictures of Tracts on them. I wiped the chalk from my mouth and put on lipgloss. I think the pale blue hospital johnny suits me.

I want to go blonde and learn to play the harp.

I want to do portraits of all my friends ( I am working on a smashing one!)

I have learned something valuable- on the train, people tend to give a person room when they are drinking out of a bottle with a picture of a Tract on it.

A narsty bank teller refused to give me money on false pretenses, and the replacement card still has not arrived, leaving me stone broke at lunchtime after having to fast before my appt.

This evening I came home to be washed in bill collection threats- they toppled menacingly from my tray over my head, like a bucket of pig’s blood on prom night.

The last thing I consumed before my pre-radiology fast was a flute of champagne.

-xo

psst…we’re back

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The new year is off to a grand ol’ start. I am working on a laxative addiction! (note to the uninitiated, don’t believe a word of this-ed) Which reminds me of my favorite Disease-movie-of-the-week, “Kate’s Secret”. It was a riveting drama about bulimia starring Meredith Baxter Burney. She wolfs down a pound of cookies and a quart of milk in aisle six, and then yodels them behind the dumpster. She also consumes several pizzas and whoppers in a drive-by at several drive-thrus. Monday night CBS watching told me everything I need to know. About Everything.

Let it be straight that Lambchop=HEATHER. I could go by my given name, I suppose, but I have become so fond of the L’s that are stitched to my underwear, and the darling sequined bag that Licketysplit gave me for my birthday.

So, just to review, I, Lambchop, am the one who paints and huffs scotch guard and lives in Allston (formerly Berlin) and plans to revive the ascot. And some other stuff. Licketysplit is the married one in the Lowell Loft who is obsessed with shoes and lost causes and intends to make her living hawking tampons shaped like mice. Or something. We BOTH like shiny things.

-xo