Bulls on parade

I'm getting a second job. As it becomes clearer and clearer that this is going to involve me serving hungry hipsters at an upscale fast-food joint that specializes in variations on the hamburger (free range chicken breast, chopped sirloin, filet mignon sandwich) I'd like to tell you about a job I'd rather have instead: pasting rose petals on enormous piñata-like bull sculpture. There was one of these, a big red bull sculpture, at the 'Raging Bull' after-party. (There is something funny about complaining about bad jobs when my current job is already pretty great. Or, you know, not funny, but obnoxious, spoiled, bratty. But I want everything to be perfect. And by perfect I mean I want to win the lottery and have no jobs at all, which is really the job I wish I had instead, the no-job. In the meantime I am, therefore I complain.) The petals were pasted on in different directions, on different sides, to create shades and textures that made the bull more rose-petally bullish. It reminded me of the "Cows on Parade" except for it was perishable. And someone spent hour upon billable hour obsessing over this incredibly kitschy monstrosity and I'm jealous.

I honestly thought she'd punched him in the stomach

I woke up this morning and there was no hot water. There's a skylight in my bathroom and when the wind blows, tiny slivers of snow drift down and sprinkle you as you're brushing your teeth. I'm sure not having hot water is somehow related (inversely proportional) to the cold outside, but needing hot water is also somehow related (inversely proportional) to how cold it is outside. Which is to say, the boiler may have frozen but I really need it not to have been.
In other news, Dan and I saw a man flossing his teeth on a city bus this Friday. He didn't even face the window, but flagrantly attacked his teeth with green floss, while the remains of his sandwich stayed in the brown paper bag he was clutching in his right hand. Fucking New Yorkers.
Things I learned this weekend include 1) Pol Pot's real name is Saloth Sar, a factoid I've told everyone I know, because it overwhelms me in a whole name is destiny way. And I wonder if George Lucas knew this because that is the most Star Wars villain name I've ever heard.
2) Lana Turner's teenage daughter murdered a man and got acquitted. I watched "The Bad and The Beautiful" snowed in on Saturday and one of the extras was a docu about Lana with her daughter Cheryl Crane as the main interviewee. So as LT (does this set of initials sound very masculine in general or just because of associations with Lawrence Taylor?) goes through about 5 hubbys and countless lovers she gets hooked up with a Mafioso named Johnny Stampanato who wears gold chains nestled in his chest hair. When did that become a cliché? On background, before dating Stamapanto, Turner was married to Lex Barker, Tarzan, who molested Cheryl. Plus, Turner was just about never home. Anyway, Turner tries to break up with Johnny a couple of times and it doesn't fly. Finally she breaks up with him in her house, and during the screaming fight, Cheryl walks in with a knife and stabs him without saying a word.
What's interesting about this, beyond the E! True Hollywood voyeurism aspect, is Turner's testimony, which basically got her daughter acquitted (or rather, convinced the jury it was justifiable homicide), is the most mannered acting I've ever seen. It really makes you realize what "the method" has done, because just about any actor today could have done a better job seeming authentically upset. Turner seemed 100% inauthentically upset, like she was acting out a scene from "Imitation of Life," down to the tears and kleenex and halting voice. Which led me to wonder if that was what real emotion was for her- 50’s movie dialogue? And did that kind of emotion then seem real to regular movie going people? Because Turner’s testimony is what convinced the jury.

Duvet covers are not just for metrosexuals

Because I don't have cable and sometimes the remote control doesn't work I've been watching commercials more than usual lately. As a result I caught Amaya chomping on a Whopper disguised by her brown hair. I think. I also had time to ponder the resurgence of the big, bouncy, red ball. You think Ford (is it Ford? It's some SUV company, with the E in Explorer gone red) is psyched that they have the same ad campaign as a movie about a pedophile?
More: Cody from "Step by Step" was on an episode of "NYPD Blue" last night but incredibly bulked up and tatooed out. I wonder if he spent all his time on that show as the skinny, dim kid wishing he could lift weights. He does now and he gave me nightmares. "Lost" tonight is about siblings Shannon and Boone and I'm really rooting for an incest, or a not-really-brother-and-sister, plotline.

G Chord

I think I was meditating in the car yesterday. Sometime in Pennsylvania on I-95, waiting to cross over into New Jersey, 10 minutes passed that I can not get back. And then I missed my exit. Car trips always feel fine while you're in the car, and then you get out for coffee or bathroom and your eyes are wirey and seeing everything too clearly and you just want to run laps around the royrogers/nathans/burgerking/starbucks compound but instead you get back in the car and hate all the music and the napkins and get going.
I listened to the radio. There were lots of 2004 top single countdown and the top 10 songs of this year suck so, so, so bad. Maroon 5 and JoJo are the heroes of the pack. And do you think that Ryan Cabrera and Ashley Simpson are properly thankful to big sis for giving them careers? Because they should be. And why doesn't he get a haircut? Do you think his head is really, really small? After avoiding Nick and Jessica all year a recent bout with my parent's TV and a Newlyweds marathon made me care again. I'm starting to feel shitty about this. The supermodel coverage of the Tsunami has made me think the whole thing’s gotten away from us. I'm trying not to think about what that means too much because I think it probably ends with me in a cabin in Montana. And Montana is cold and far. Though you can watch The Newlyweds there, so that's a plus.
I also heard Eminem's single "Mockingbird," which was remarkable for two reasons. The first being some really crap-ass rhymes, that didn't in fact rhyme, or fit the beat properly. The second being that it made me cry. And I don't think this is a comment on how touching the song is, though it's kind of touching, but more that I am not nearly numb enough to blatant, manipulative ploys aimed at my heartstrings. They are too pluckable.