All posts by Lambchop

A Day in the Life of a Scrivener

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No one ever talks to me here.

Save the occasional directive from my boss.

As he scuttles by my desk and burrows in his office.

But Today

I was cheerfully addressed with some small talk

By a suited gentleman in the elevator

I was grateful.

He had toilet paper streaming from the back of his trousers

I thought “I should tell this nice man and spare him further embarrassment”

The grand atrium lobby was teeming with office workers. It was an ice cream party.

I stopped him before he could enter with his paper streamer

My information made him appear stricken and humiliated

He said “How embarrassing”

I nodded and said “Yes” very sweetly with a glued-on smile and strode off to end the pained moment

I sullied the only friendly interaction I have had here

I should have said

“It happens to everyone”

Gay Day

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Light the candles, physician delicately scented of hydrangea, health sip a manhattan and nibble at some hot pepper chocolates! In between all the delighted squeals of praise for the Fab Five, I have heard complaints that “Queer Eye” is enforcing the stereotype of homos as refined, attractive, youthful and creative people. Heavens no! I urge anyone who finds this an ill-applied and offensive distinction to march in protest. Please choose a remote location so that I may safely ignore your bloated visage, painful body odor, and the misspellings of your poorly handwritten sign.

Lambchop fully supports myths of beauty. Feel free to assume that I, being female, am perfect in every way. That violets blossom in my tiny footprints as I emerge from the bath like a silken Aphrodite.

The only drawback to being female that I can see is that Carson Kressley will never take me shopping!

-xo

Coming to Amerika Update

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Wow. A job AND a place to live. It almost seems like too much to ask. I am going to have the poshest pit in town. (as soon as I can scare up enough dosh to replace the suitcase in which I sleep with an actual bed. Hurray for both large suitcases AND compact women!)

My new room is pink!

Forces conspire against a body- i am skint, I am grateful to work in Siberia, my plate seems always full of something of something tasteless, the weather is very swimming pool-like, and I locked myself out of the house-sit around midnight. There I was, out in the swimming pool night on one side of the door, convulsing, sweating and jerking futilely at the handle, while on the other side a comfortable bed and two attention hungry, squalling cats. Hurray again for compact women (and unlocked kitchen windows)!

Did I mention I am skint? Nary a pot to pee in!

As depressing as one’s bank balance and minimal decorating style may be, I am glad to be in the Americas. My friends have given me money and food and taken me to see awful films. They have listened to me grind my teeth and chew my nails and weep. They have stood by me while i unleashed obscenities at locked doors at midnight. They have made me laugh and gotten me drunk. And most importantly of

all, they have Given Me Money.

Hurray for Amerika!

(tank you very much)

-xo

A Memoir

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Back in the days of MUDs and alt. binaries.naked.teens Lambchop met Licketysplit on alt.rollyoureyes. After exchanging copious emails on strange diseases and the Pointlessness of Everything, we discovered our mutual love of booze drunk out of paper bags, Edward Ka-spel, gummy treats, and Douglas Sirk movies (same thing). So we arranged to meet on a subway platform. As we hurtled toward the station from opposite directions, we steeled ourselves to encounter a mouth-breathing, hunch-backed, pasty creature with spectacles and bad hair. Covered in eczema. (of course had that been the case we would have both kept walking.)

Needless to say, we passed muster and ran gaily off to consume Night Train under a bridge. These are the things that I think about on a Friday morning when I sit in my silent cubicle with nothing to do, pretending I’m Kafka.

Especially now that our Licketysplit is getting married. I really thought she was kidding. I thought the thousands of dollars she has spent on hand woven baskets and ermine place settings was all an elaborate scheme to make her beaux dance with her, and score a toaster. But her shower is on Sunday and I am very happy for her. She won’t forget beneath which bridge to find me.

-xo

Postcard for Berlin

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(we interrupt the schedule griping and carping to umm…gripe and carp! in german!)

Eine kleine Frau sitzt im Buero in Boston und denkt an Euch. Nach zwei Wochen fernsehglotzen in meiner Unterhose, unhealthy spiele ich Sekretaerin in einer Anwaltskanzlei. Wenn es nichts hier zu tun gibt, zeichne ich kafkamaessige, alptraumhafte Skizzen von Menschen die im Buero sitzen und nichts zu tun haben. Ich male mein zweites Kampfbild im Atelier. Obwohl ich so fleissig bin, finde ich irgendwie noch Zeit oft betrunken zu sein. Nach wie vor bin ich Eure,

heather

Everything’s Coming Up Roses

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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

Unemployment Haiku

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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

Tequila Sunrises and other forces of nature

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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

Ooh-la-la, Sassoon

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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

if it’s not love, then its the bomb…

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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