tavie.com

I am trying to win the Most Stephs Linked in One Blog Contest.

i dont believe in puncaution either

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:52 PM | shower me with attention

Friday, August 16, 2002

Me at best friend Steph's in Staten Island. She buy me two apple martinis. Me like apple martinis. Then we go across street and video store and what we see in window? Big poster for The Wrong Guy. After me have minor heart attack, Steph reserves poster for me to be purchased after release of movie in September. Me very excited; me have own poster soon.

Me like apple martini.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:26 PM | shower me with attention

Kirsten and I were in bed with our mom this morning, giggling about something or other as my dad got dressed-- oh, about my dad's friend's son who saw Scott Thompson at a Sex Pistols concert and threw him into the mosh pit. We were giggling about this, and I said, "And then Scott told the story on Conan."

And my dad replied, without missing a beat, "The real Co-nan was quite a tall man, as well."

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:56 PM | shower me with attention

Thursday, August 15, 2002

Hey, now. Come on.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:59 PM | shower me with attention

Strange variation of the naked nightmare. It actually woke me up from sleep. In this one, a new version of the KITH documentary DVD was being released with new extras. Excited, I watched it for the first time with a large group of friends and family. The segment we were watching was directed by Scott, and I was thrilled to note that the footage he used took place at a party I had attended. Thrill turned to horror as I saw myself in a strapless gown, the top slipped down to reveal my horrifying, obese upper torso. The next scene showed me crouched naked in a shower, crying into a cell phone, "I'm going to sue them for mental cruelty!" The entire rest of the segment showed me, completely naked, making a fool of myself at the party as Derwood filmed it all for the world to see. Watching this DVD, I began to sob, "Why? I thought he liked me. Why is he doing this to me? Why?" Tara tried her best to comfort me but I fled in tears, looking for my cell phone to call Ade. I sobbed my story on the phone to her. "I've always wanted to be fucked by Scott Thompson, and now I have!" I cried.

The funniest part of this dream is the idea that they would let Scott direct a segment for the DVD.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:43 AM | shower me with attention

I love the postcard game.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:10 AM | shower me with attention

Our Lady Peace. It was what I needed: the ear-splitting rhythms, the throbbing crowd, the songs I wasn't familiar with but which were as far from Sondheim as songs could get, the unthreateningly sexy lead singer, the flashing coloured lights, the close contact of complete strangers. It was like tasty medicine, the good kind, like cherry-flavoured baby aspirin (yum!). Even after my feet were numb and I was near-fainting from sleepiness, it was good shtuff, good shtuff.

Frightening: a guy directly behind me fainted during the second warm-up's set. The girl he was with fell to her knees, screaming his name over and over hysterically. The crowd around them (me included) parted a little, looking around anxiously for security; the rest of the crowd continued to thrum. As quickly as he had fallen, he was up on his feet again and they had disappeared into the crowd. Disturbing.

Funny: nothing funnier than someone who is thrown into a mosh pit and allowed to fall to the ground, rejected by the crowd.

Funny 2: near the end of the show, lead OLP guy said, "New York, let me see your hands!" Not being much for arm-waving, my hands remained in my pockets. The girl standing behind me, a hard-core fan whose comments had amused me throughout the evening, evidently decided this warranted punishment, for I swear to god I felt the mosquito-esque sting of a single hair being pulled slowly and deliberately out of my scalp. I swear I didn't imagine it; the girl was punishing me for not throwing my arms in the air and wavin' 'em like I just don't care!

Frightening 2: Lots of cops and police barricades blocking off the streets surrounding the Hammerstein ballroom. A lone tour bus, U-Haul attached, sat askew in the middle of the street. Tommy interrogated a subway employee and found out that the bus belonging to Greenwheel, one of the opening acts, had hit a pedestrian. The pedestrian was nowhere to be seen, but neither was there a chalk outline in sight, so that's good, anyway. Yikes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:42 AM | shower me with attention

Wednesday, August 14, 2002

I came home to go to an Our Lady Peace concert this evening with my friend Tommy, and, as it turns out, I don't have a bed lined up for tonight. My sister has promised my bed to her friends visiting from Seattle.

Sucks for me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:33 PM | shower me with attention

Dude. Limewire sucks. All anyone has is Sweeney Todd. I can't tell you how much Sweeney Todd freaks me out. You wouldn't believe me; you would laugh at me. I taped it off of Bravo years ago, sight unseen, because I knew it was a Sondheim musical and I'd loved Into the Woods so much. So I watched it. Once. It scared me so much, grossed me out so thoroughly that I couldn't bear to look at anything resembling either ground meat or a pie for weeks afterward, and I haven't looked at Angela Lansbury the same way since. (Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street is a musical about a London barber who starts slitting his clients' throats and sending them to the bakerwoman downstairs to have them made into pies, which she sells in her bake shop to enormous profit.)

I was so scared by that musical that I can't even bear to touch the video tape, which also has The Purple Rose of Cairo on it. So I haven't seen that movie since, either.

Anyway. No one has Company and I still need "Poor Baby" and "Finale", goddammit.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:57 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, August 13, 2002

The preceding post looks suspiciously like a rant. Don't be fooled. I don't believe in rants. I'm just overjoyed by the fact that I have a firm opinion on something, anything. Don't bother reading it, it's just for me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:14 PM | shower me with attention

Look, I hate getting called by telemarketers just as much as anybody, but I think what people are forgetting here is that calling you up in the middle of dinner is someone's shitty job. It's the shittiest job I can think of. It's no one's career goal. No one is living out a dream by doing it. Someone is doing it because they are desperate to make a living. They hate their job. They hate calling people up during their dinner hour and trying to sell them something. So the idea of tormenting them is pretty cruel, pretty digusting to me. It's not that difficult to say, "I'm sorry, I'm not interested" or "Please don't call back, we're not interested" in a polite tone of voice before hanging up. Or, if you feel you can't stop yourself from making a mean or cutting remark, then simply hanging up on them is preferable.

I was raised to be polite to telemarketers, because at least one of my parents, at some point in their young adulthood, was forced to choose between a job as a telemarketer or starving. I always feel pity for the ones who get my dad on the other end of the phone, because the only thing sadder than being a telemarketer, really, is someone who looks forwards to telemarketer's calls because he relishes an audience, any audience, to the sound of his voice. I think everyone on the staff of The New York Times and every person working at the ticket office at Lincoln Center knows about my dad's diabetes and how rough supervisors at work are on him.

Of course, none of what I've said applies to those telemarketers who call you up on your cell phone. They're fair game. How dare they make me pay for the airtime it takes for them to try and sell me something I wouldn't buy in a million years? Fuckers.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:12 PM | shower me with attention

I just made a kick-ass broccoli salad, so don't tell me I'm wasting my days.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:21 PM | shower me with attention

And the Company obsession continues. I will O.D. on Sondheim soon and they will find me, huddled in a dank corner, a thin stream of drool drying on my chin, muttering, "bobby baby bobby bubi bobby baby robert darling robby baby bubi...", arms hugging my knees, rocking back and forth, simultaneously trying to hum the unhummable.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:50 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, August 12, 2002

I hate to admit it, but I love this LOTR manga link that my sister sent me.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:11 AM | shower me with attention

Early to bed, early to rise
makes Tavie waken with grit in her eyes.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 6:23 AM | shower me with attention

Sunday, August 11, 2002

Am I blogging too much? Then stop reading.

Ahem.

And here's to the girls who just watch--
Aren't they the best?
When they get depressed, it's a bottle of Scotch
Plus a little jest.
Another chance to disapprove,
Another brilliant zinger,
Another reason not to move,
Another vodka stinger--
Aaahh--I'll drink to that.

Yeah, baby.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:28 AM | shower me with attention

Good god. Look at this page. I'm an emotional nudist.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:38 AM | shower me with attention

Okay. So I didn't get to sleep last night. Could it be because I slept until 6 pm yesterday?

I will not go to sleep I will not go to sleep I will not go to sleep. I will stay up all day until the nighttime.

...

Yeah. Sure I will. Sure!

I'm not at all charming, am I.

My favourite song in Company is definitely "Another Hundred People". Followed by "The Ladies Who Lunch". But the one in my head most is "You Could Drive A Person Crazy".

I had an incredibly realistic dream about bizarro-Roosevelt Island the other day. God, I love bizarro-R.I. I wish I lived there for real. I dreamed that Matt and Jordan's band was playing Aimee covers in the supermarket and I was insulted that they didn't tell me about it beforehand.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:31 AM | shower me with attention

Do you want to know? It's been a week of phone rings, door chimes, here comes company, and online games to distract, caffeine-withdrawal headaches that leave me too tired to make enough coffee to chase them away, gunslingers and lobstrosities, and sleeping, oh, so much sleeping.

Tonight I came Mint Manorwards and we drove to the beach, stared at the sky for ten minutes, and drove home. I am on my very own computer in my very own room here. Pretty exciting, not having to share.

You know sometimes I catch him just looking... and looking. I look right back.

A person like Bob doesn't have the good things and he doesn't have the bad things... but he doesn't have the good things.

Mixtures of versions, and I've finally placed Dean Jones from the the 1970 version; he was in all those Herbie the Love Bug-sort of Disney movies, but more importantly to me (and no one else except perhaps the sister), he was Jakob Grimm in Once Upon a Brothers Grimm, a truly-strange-in-retrospect childhood favourite.

I need, oh god, I need a life.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 3:56 AM | shower me with attention