Posts filed under ‘Andy The Boyfriend’

TV Party


I watched SNL for the first time, all the way through, since I don’t know when. I was pleasantly surprised to see Brokeback dreamboat Jake Gyllenhall hosting, opening with a Dreamgirls tribute in drag.

Some things I noticed:

His eyebrows are out-of-control. Assuming they are well-groomed by professional handlers, what do they look like if he misses a few days?

Dude is cut! Those shoulders could hurt someone.

He can almost sing.

He was funny in every sketch. Of course, this also helped that all the sketches were funny by themselves, like this one, which seemed to be based on all videos shown at Woody’s on Wednesday nights and the Tower Records dance section.

We also watched this Hee Haw collection that I scored from the Tower promo pile. I never watched much HH as a child since I grew up in a very Sonny & Cher/Carol Burnett household. I rediscovered it a few years ago through Secret Cinema and found that I really liked the music on the show, like this clip with Waylon Jennings and Jessi Colter. Even though her performance was a tad flat, I’d still like to explore more of her stuff. I also noticed that in Hee Haw’s absence, there aren’t as many old people with fucked-up teeth on TV anymore. In 70s variety shows in general, there seems to be a natural camdererie, and what makes HH so interesting is that it seems like many of them weren’t professional actors or comedians. All in all, it reminded me of a rural Laugh-In, except that drugs make the jokes confusing instead of funnier. At least to me.

I also decided last night that Andy the Boyfriend should write a blog about junk food and fast food. He has definite opinions on which cheese steak places give you the most meat, which Philadelphia McDonald’s is the best, and why the world needs Arby’s now. Perhaps I will get him to write some dispatches.

Do you want to hear them? Let me know.

January 14, 2007 at 4:58 pm 1 comment

Things Andy and I Listened To in the Car


Philly-Rochester and back is six hours each way. That’s a lot of CD’s. I’m reminded of what a huge state Pennsylvania is and how many towns I don’t know and don’t want to even though many of them are much prettier than Philadelphia.
Musically, Andy and I can agree that we both like English men from the 80s who feel sorry for themselves. I’m kinder to sad-sack 90s dudes. We both hate crybabies of this decade.

Not in any order:

Love and Rockets – Hot Trip To Heaven (bought by Andy at the Record Archive for five bucks)

R.E.M. – Lifes Rich Pageant (another RA purchase, same price)

Peter Murphy – Recall (Andy’s)

Smiths – Louder Than Bombs (Have I mentioned that RA has an excellent used section?)

Peter Gabriel – 3 (a.k.a Melting Face) Andy’s purchase. It reminded me of my druggy, proggy high school past, and did you know that Paul Weller and XTC’s Dave Gregory played on it?
Peter Gabriel – 1 (Andy’s purchase, and enjoyed by Raimund)

Breakfast Club London – Promo from work. Good nighttime driving music.

Brasil 2Mil: Soul of Bossanova – Ditto.

Summer Beach Party: Songs from the Classic Beach Movies of the ’60s (I need to hear more Donna Loren).

Judas Priest – British Steel (Andy’s). We love to point out all of Rob Halford’s pounding metaphors and wondered why no one knew he was gay back then. We wondered if his bandmates knew or if he was sleeping with any of them. We decided that on the band’s nights off, they are so sick of each other that RH probably steeled away to some bath houses.

The Definitive Young-Holt Unlimited (mine) Love their version of “Good Vibrations.”

Mojo CD – Jame’s Brown’s Funky Summer

Goldfrapp – Supernature (One of my fave CD’s of last year. It’s made for driving).

Black Sabbath – Heaven and Hell (Without Andy, I would never know what Ronnie James Dio-era BS sounds like. When I was a kid, all BS album covers used to scare me).

Scritti Politti – White Bread Black Beer (I was really excited to hear this one and it was just too quiet. Where’s the beats?)

The Who – Endless Wire (Andy’s choice. He likes this one more than I do. I wanted to like it more).

Once we were in Rochester, we listened to a lot of college radio, like WBER, where Andy worked when he lived there. There are two others, one of them donates an hour or two a day to high school kids, which is when I heard The Pixies’ “Caribou” and it made me really happy.

January 13, 2007 at 9:56 pm 1 comment

Rochester: Last Day

To clarify the last post, I’d go back to FYE part time if I could get insurance. I’d rather not fall into the retail wormhole again.

Last night we went to see Borat at a reformed porn theater that was taken over by teachers about twenty years ago, and a cat used to roam the aisles. It’s nice to visit a community theater for a change instead of an anonymous googleplex. They even have a soundproof room upstairs for people who couldn’t get babysitters for their little ones.

I waited so long to see Borat that I’d already heard half the jokes, but I thought it was worth the hype and so wickedly funny in its targets. It will take years to obliterate the image of the wrestling scene from my mind. My favorite character was the prostitute and her sweet love story with Borat.

Right now Raimund is playing his drums and we’re going to the Record Archive, where I get so many of my fabulous dresses for about half the price that they’d be in Philly (as well as my white leather jacket). I also hope to visit Utta Clutta, where I bought my red dress with the bananas on it. The woman who runs it is like the Annie Potts character in Pretty In Pink, and the store is set up like someone’s house with lots of cool knick-knacks.

After our shopping, it’s dinner with the parents and then back to Philly. I swear I’m going to try to write in this thing every day even if I think it’s totally boring.

January 12, 2007 at 2:24 pm Leave a comment

Adventures in Suburbia

Last night we went to a BBQ place to see the Elvis Tribute band, The Lustre Kings, from Albany. The place had lots of campy 50s posters and huge plates of food. I don’t know why everyone in Rochester isn’t at least 300 pounds. Even appetizers here are like small meals. The crowd was older, with couple of biker dudes, pretty impressive for a Wednesday night. Even more impressive that when people go out in Rochester, it’s a big deal because it’s freezing cold and usually they have to dig their cars out first. So what is up with no one over 30 in Philadelphia going out anymore?

Today in further suburban adventures (which Andy and I like to visit but agree we’d get real bored real fast) we used our giftcards to Land’s End, where all the clerks look and talk like the cop in Fargo. I went in there hoping to find wool tights, but alas, there were none. So I bought two black turtlenecks and a pair of winter boots. Then we went to The Gap, where we also had gift cards. Andy made out well, I was pretty uninspired by this season’s collection. All the pants are low-rider style that go up your ass and create permanent camel toe. Everything else is basically khaki and blah, and again, no tights. Am I the only one who wears them?

Soon we’re going to eat at Andy’s nephew’s favorite restaurant, The Chinese Buffett. He’s been talking about going there for the past three days. While we were shopping, Andy gave him his camera and told him to “take pictures of everything in the house.” The kid’s a better photographer than I am!

January 11, 2007 at 5:58 pm Leave a comment

Greetings From Rochester

I’m up here visiting Andy the Boyfriend’s sister, brother-in-law, five-year-old nephew, four-month-old niece, and bassett hound. Andy’s dog Chelsea is here too. In case you’re wondering, babies and dogs: still cute.

An hour ago, it was snowing sideways but there seems to be no accumulation. For Rochester, this considered a warm winter.

Raimund, the five-year-old is home from school now. Yesterday we took him shopping at House of Guitars for some new drum sticks. House of Guitars has instruments and records piled to the sky. They still have CD’s in their longboxes. They still have a cassette wall!

The baby, appropriately named Serene is big and healthy with rosy cheeks and a wide smile. I love making her smile.

Last night Andy and I went to the dollar-theater and saw “Marie Antoinette.” Some things I liked about it:

1. Tall, bejeweled powdered wigs

2. Heaving corsets

3. “Hong Kong Garden” played during a ballroom scene. (Even though I just learned through karaoke that the song is kinda racist).

4. Three Bow Wow Wow songs, including my favorite “Aphrodisiac,” played when she falls in love with the soldier.

5. I need to buy more Adam and the Ants.

Tonight we’re going to a club to see a rockabilly birthday tribute to Elvis.

January 10, 2007 at 12:15 pm Leave a comment

Work-Related Observations & Sightings


I’m going to ignore internet sociopaths from these past couple of days and return to form, talking about real life sociopaths instead.
A co-worker asking me where “da O’s are at.” We’ve been instructed to be encouraging and helpful. How do you encourage a bag of rocks? Any ideas?

Thin, weird, middle-aged smelly man pushing his belongings in a baby stroller, conducts imaginary symphonies while listening to headphones.

The Mall Walker, older gentleman who follows my co-worker around the store, bending her ear about anything and everything can’t take a hint.

The homeless and otherwise marginal customers seem to enjoy my new hairdo the most. One of them, we’ll call Mr Saturday Nite, or Rain Man. He listens to every set of headphones in the store and will yell, stomp and curse profusely when one of them is not working properly. No matter what he’s listening to, he sings along with Native American raindance chants. He usually looks right through me, which is the response I prefer. But the other night, he looked right at me and smiled, “Ohhh your hair is blond now!” I was afraid if I stared back too long I’d be turned into a Pillar of Crazy.

Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning” still makes me sad for some reason. The same kind of sad as Duran Duran’s “Save A Prayer for the Morning After” or The Left Banke’s “Walk Away Renee.” A different kind of sad from Eurythmics’ “Here Comes The Rain Again.” That’s got a specific memory.
Haven’t wished any one who writes or edits for a living to be without a job except for Andy Pemberton. He made Spin look like the retarded child of Blender and Vice. On his editor’s letter alone, he deserved to be smacked upside the head repeatedly. I like seeing new writers and new points of view but when these things are new and bad, I have to wonder if he just called everyone in his cell phone and said, “hey, wanna put out a magazine?” Especially the chick who did the two-page map of Philadelphia, coining it the next Williamsburg and never seemed to leave Old City. And can all magazines please put a moratorium on the floaty, disembodied head graphics?

Good riddance. The question is, can it get worse, and the scary thing is that the answer just might be yes.

Excuse the disjointedness of this post. I haven’t had a full night of sleep in about a week. And then last night, Andy the Boyfriend woke me up at 2:30 in the morning because he was locked out of his house and couldn’t wake his roomie so he called to crash here. I couldn’t be mad because of course he’d do the same for me, and much more. Of course, after the last week of July, we won’t have to worry about these sorts of things anymore.

June 2, 2006 at 6:37 pm Leave a comment

My Quarterly Blog Post

Andy the boyfriend and his nephew Raimund

Sorry for my long absence. Apologies to all five of you. Mostly I’ve been too busy, tired, depressed or agitated to post, and my new rule for Bees is that I only rant about my personal life entertainingly. If it’s not funny to anyone, I’m not putting it here. With that said, I’m tempted to take down a bunch of entries from this blog, which are too personal and just poorly written. Some things just don’t belong on the internet and I’ve been very anti-internet lately.
Anyway, I’ll share the good news instead. Andy the Boyfriend is going to be shacking up with me and Ant here at the Two Street Rock Critic House. His love of pizza and bad cable TV and sympathy for the Shamrock Pub will make him the perfect resident here. And rock critics (even underacheiving ones like me and Ant) need civilians to hang with; you can always tell which writers are only talking to other writers. Andy’s also bringing his dog, a Beagle Lab named Chelsea, which will eliminate the need for me to ever sweep the kitchen floor ever again.
Yes, I’m gonna finally clean up the third floor and hang up all my clothes and deal with my office crap so the poor boy has a place to put his stuff. It’s really happening!
Otherwise, my life moves between lazy and busy. The Dumpsta Players did three shows in three months: a best-of, a benefit, and Prom Trash. We raised over $3,000 for our May 6 benefit for The Bryson Institute of The Attic Youth Center for L/G/B/T/Q Youth and SMART, Inc: sisterhood mobilized for Aids/HIV Research & Treatment. It’s nice to know that being a freak can help others in a real way.

For Prom Trash, Cathy and I entered as Punk Rock Siamese Twins. We put a trash bag over ourselves, Cathy wore a red wig that looks like my hair, and we wore Nancy Spungen-style make-up and shouted obscenities and spit up Pabt’s and pistachio pudding at everyone. We came in second to Slavid’s reigning queen, Amanda Playwythe, who showed up with her elderly husband (brilliantly played by her boyfriend), Anna Nicole-style.

Speaking of Nancy Spungen, I finally read And I Don’t Want To Live This Life, her mother’s story about Nancy’s short troubled life and notorious death. I believe that Nancy was “nauseating,” troubled, and brilliant; she’s a human being after all. It was such a heartbreaking read, since she never got the mental health care she needed. I wonder what she would be like today if there were more options available to her. I wish she’d been in a band instead of a groupie, at least that would have been place to direct her fury. Would she be like Courtney Love, alternately falling down and getting back up again into her 40s? I can’t imagine being a member of the Spungen family. After reading the book, I hoped that her sister Suzy went on to be a famous artist. She was the one I identified with the most: loving and hating and revering and reviling someone all at the same time.

Oh and finally, Maria posted Plain Parade’s entire history here. Commentary forthcoming. As always, hugs to anyone who played a show with us, spent their hard-earned dollars on our shows, wrote about us, or told us to keep fightin the good fight — especially during our dark Doc Watson’s daze. It keeps me coming back year after year.

May 22, 2006 at 6:54 pm 2 comments

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