The Scent of Love?

Let me put it this way–for Valentine’s Day, I’d rather have a case of the clap than a case of this here perfume.

(courtesy NY Daily News)

(courtesy NY Daily News)

Turns out, our friendly neighbors to the north, found it necessary to invent perfume that smells like pizza. No, no..they couldn’t do something fun and useful like conjure up Eau de Geddy or a Maggie Trudeau Blow-Up Doll, they had to be all stinkin’ weird and marry one of my most favorite products in the world–perfume–with shit-tastic Pizza Hut pizza.

Kurt Kane, CMO of Pizza Hut, said: “Eau de Pizza Hut is one of the most sought-after and rarest of scents available.”

Sure it is–and not to mention–the most heinous.

Wankers.

However, the Canucks are not alone in creating crappy perfume (I’m looking at you, deader-than-dead Elizabeth Taylor and your Eau de Trailerpark-White Diamonds). The French–the arbiters of great taste, cheese, making B.O & hairy armpits on ladies sexy and haute couture, have really created a real sandwich a la merde. One of my fave parfumeurs, L’Artisan Parfumeurs created a scent–Dzing!–that smells like the circus. Apparently, it’s a soupcon of carny sweat, crazy, elephant dung (top notes), and lion semen, cotton candy and rotting hay (bottom notes). Of course, I don’t know if these really are the actual scents in this potion, but I refuse to go within a block of a bottle of this stuff. I mean, YUCK. Picture 8I hope my ultimate fave, Jo Malone, doesn’t follow suit.

Pizza stank isn’t the only scent that has been bottled and sold to the sheeple. Breathe in this one, folks.

Eau de Black Angus Anus anyone?

Picture 9

I’ve never been a fan of Valentine’s Day, and my reasons are a-plenty, and I won’t go into them here. The only redeeming quality this day has is it shares the same month as my birthday, which means I usually get half-price Valentine’s candy for birthday presents. Yep, I’m really winning in that respect.

I think Valentine’s Day is the champion of making all people–singletons, marrieds and smug marrieds–feel like crap. People rarely get what they want on Valentine’s Day, and not everyone looks good in red.

But, I’ll probably celebrate it in that inimitable McCrabass style: By going to a nice restaurant, getting my drink on then flashing mah boobs at my fellow patrons. And, if they don’t like it well, tough titties.

Cycling’s Saviour?

Now that the one-balled, lying, scheming, former hide-the-sausage-partner of Sheryl Crow’s, and infamous doper–AKA Lance Armstrong–has managed to sully not only hard-working, non-doped-up athletes everywhere, he’s also championed turning the drug dump that is known as the Tour de France into an event that’s on par with the Summer Redneck Games.

Sports analysts have been griping and whining about how Armstrong has ruined everything EVER, and have also pondered if the once-prestigious sporting event can ever be saved. (Side note: A possible solution? Allow doping, but add a wrinkle & make the event tougher and more dangerous as a test to see whose dope is dope, yo.)

Here’s my thought–make allll of the participants wear one of these–even if they win a stage. Fuck that maillot jaune prentious horse hockey.

productimage-picture-peewee-herman-comedy-podium-suit-cycling-bicycle-bike-2588Can’t quite place the outfit?

This may help:

pee-wees-big-adventure-1985-paul-reubens-pic-1The competitors should also wear white Bucs, be shorn like this and ride bikes just like PW’s, but only if they want to. But, they should style their fancy bikes to look like his bike.

What I would give to see this, but spinning along the lavender fields of Provence:

pee-wee-herman-in-the-olympicsThere is hope for this world.

Notes on the news

SOPA and Keystone XL pipeline have been covered ad nauseam lately so I won’t be weighing in on either. But, I will say this … the fact that knickers were all twisted up because folks couldn’t access Wikipedia today is just plain sad. Wikipedia? Really? Where folks can add their own facts, make up crap and post it as truth without any repercussions for passing on false information?

Wait … what am I talking about here? The press?

I need a nap.

Plus, both subjects are not as fun and fucked up as the following stories.

Perhaps he should’ve tripped in an entirely different manner. I mean, he sure is rambling on and on like he’s taken one too many hits of window pane. The wreckage of the Costa Concordia is tragic and what makes the tragedy even worse is Capt. Francesco Schettino’s big, fat yap.

Case in point when asked why/how he ended up in a lifeboat with his passengers.

From The Inquistr.

“I was helping some passengers put the life boat to sea. At a certain point the mechanism for lowering it, blocked. We had to force it. Suddenly the system unblocked itself and I tripped and I found myself inside the life boat with a number of passengers.”

Oh really? I hear the Colosseum in Rome is for sale too.

Too bad he’s married because he’s a keeper.

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I’m anti-death penalty for reasons I’m not going to get into right now.

Maybe murdering people isn’t such a good idea — ever. If you do end up offing a few folks and end up with shitty legal representation, you could end up with a bag over your head and dirt nap time drugs coursing through your veins.

This is messed up, folks.

From The Inquistr.

Supreme Court Agrees To Rare Appeal After Deadline Filing Missed For Death Row Inmate

“Alabama death row inmate Cory Maples is being given a new hearing after the U.S. Supreme Court issued a rare exception. Attorney’s for the death row inmate failed to file an appeals deadline because of a weird chain of events, an appeal the court believes may have helped his case.

In 1997 Maples was convicted of murdering two people, at the time two lawyers for big name New York Law firm Sullivan & Cromwell volunteered to work on his appeal.

After filing an initial appeal both attorney’s left the law firm as the case began to proceed through Alabama’s court system. When letters were sent to the lawyer’s at Sullivan & Cromwell after they had left their posts they were sent back to their sender, causing the deadline to be missed.

Years after the incident Maples realized what had occurred and petitioned the state court system, unfortunately they shot down his claim at which point his lawyers petitioned the US Supreme Court.”

Ahhh … the South. You know the section of the United States that the rest of the country turns a blind eye to when folks below the Mason-Dixon say and do stupid shit. It’s quite gauche these days to say “Oh it’s the South –what do you expect?” As a nation, we gotta stop with that shoulder-shrugging ‘whatever’ attitude whenever residents of the southern states acts out in an archaic manner.

“In her majority opinion Ruth Bader Ginsburg wrote that Cory Maples was the victim of  ”extraordinary circumstances quite beyond his control.”

Gosh, ya think?

This is an interesting ruling though. Let’s hope the SCOTUS starts to look at all death penalty appeals cases with a sharper eye in the future… maybe start paying attention to that wacky thing called DNA evidence. Just a thought.

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Finally, if Marky Mark looked like this if he had been on one of the hijacked planes, perhaps he could’ve delayed the horrible inevitable by about … oh … five minutes.

If he had treated the hijackers like he treated Jack Horner and his crew, he probably would’ve staved off the horrible inevitable for another minute.

Take it from about 2 minutes in.

“My cock is ready … ”

Oy, the jokes are too many but the real question is, is it too soon?

Good thing he coughed up an apology.

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Finally 2.0, I’m a huge Frederick Wiseman fan and desire a white equine-esque tail to wear with my buttless chaps so I’ll be seeing this film. 

Cheesy title about taking chances goes here

On Wednesday, I’ll be winging it out to Los Angeles for about 2 months to look for journalism/media work. I’ll be subletting a place from a young actor who will be setting up shop for 6 months in NYC to star as Happy in “Death of a Salesman” opposite Philip Seymour Hoffman on Broadway. Mike Nichols will be directing. After a few starts and stops with dealing with sublets on Craigslist, I found Finn and Sarah’s place, had it checked out by one of my dearest, most trusted friends, and after getting his thumb’s up, I went for it.

To me, at this stage in my life, subletting an apartment is a big chance. Yes, it seems small to someone who’s had an easy go of it, but for me, right here-right now, it’s HUGE.

However, in the past, I have taken huge chances — and — surprise, surprise — risk taking has worked out well for me. Hard to believe, eh? Yeah, it’s hard for me to believe at this point in time too. I do this thing, see, this thing where I look back on my past experiences and remember them as being purely awful and disastrous. Funny I think that way considering they weren’t … maybe it’s the fear and gnawing anguish I felt that made them seem tantamount to drinking hemlock. The fear of miserable failure perhaps. The worst is remembered — not the joy felt by someone who eventually succeeds. And succeeds BIG.

So, here’s an edited list of the chances I took. The successful ones. Wait, all of the big chances I took were successes. Imagine that…they really were. I’m still getting used to the concept of McCrabass succeeding.

1) Sweet 16 in the land of Jerry Lewis worshippers- It was scary but oh so fun, and I learned to worship Reblechon cheese and the French language. Yep. Look it up. That summer I was introduced to Flaubert and Beckett. Need I say more? Oh, and I learned the French reallllly love Barbra Streisand. (thanks to my little sister, Catherine Shandler, for reminding me of this time — she inspired me to write this post.)

2) Westward, ho! Hey, when your parents say you MUST GO TO COLLEGE BUT WE’LL PAY FOR IT, you take advantage of it and go to the unfamiliar, the distant, the strange. Well, LA wasn’t that unfamiliar: Older sister Liza and two of my cousins, Jane and Caroline, were out at Occidental College so I had ventured out there a few times. I didn’t decide on Oxy though, I wound up at USC. Turned out to be a big mistake, which takes us to chance #3.

3) Left USC for UW/Madison — mid-year — mind you. Transferring mid-year just isn’t done, young turks.  Yeah, I was desperate to get the hell outta LA and far away from the ultra-conservative, ultra-Greek USC. Gag. So not a good fit for the tough-to-mold McCrabass. So, I took a huge leap of faith and ended up at a school I had never even visited.

Hot damn, I got lucky because I fell in love with Madison. How could one NOT get the warmies for Madtown?

Or my personal fave …

Who knew that once I set foot on campus that I would have to study? Something that wasn’t exactly encouraged at USC at the time. At Wisconsin, I studied Film, African languages and politics, and psychology. My first love was film, and what happened with that love affair is explained next.

4) Westward, ho part deux. Shit howdy — talk about wingin’ it. I had maybe one contact out there, but I worked that contact over like an old French whore. I was the networking queen and that skill kept me employed in the business for about 11 years plus another 2 or so back in Chicago. But, before we get back to Chicago (you knew it was coming), let’s chat about McCrabass in LA. I worked on movies. Lots of them. I made lots of friends — many of whom I’m still in contact with today. I had some serious relationships — one ended up in an engagement which eventually went south, one ended up with my friend Lisa dumping my recent ex’s CD player on the floor of his condo whilst helping me move out, then mimicking “Roseanne”: “I hate myself for that.”

Then there’s the Lump (affectionately nicknamed by David B), and a couple of decent fellas I managed to run off or who managed to turn out to be choads. In short, the LA-based McCrabass Man Pile is quite large.

5) Sweet Home Chicago. The last few years in LA, Ursula kitteh and I were fearless but that made us weary so we packed up the Honda and headed east — to the wilds of west suburban Illinois then into Chicago — where I dove into film teaching, improv training, marriage, journalism graduate school, journalism employment, then soul-sucking unemployment and other, tawdry various forms of humiliation which I have discussed here previously. I’ve been here for about 11 years, and most of my professional tenure here has been a right pig fuck of a disaster. The upside of this chance was I got to be with my family and that has been wonderful — worth the humiliations. They’re my rock, part of my soul and I wouldn’t be splayed on the floor in the middle of the night, banging out this post if it weren’t for them and their unending love and support.

Now, these days, things are different. A new chance has to be taken because Chicago is dead to inexperienced, but older than the normal newbie journos like me. No one wants to hire the older, way smart broad with tons of life experience. They want to hire young and clueless. Fine. Go for it. I just don’t need to witness the bad crap while freezing my tits off. I’ll do that in LA, thankyouverymuch.

6) Everything old is new again. On the 11th around 2pm, I’ll be cruising down the freeway heading toward my sublet, and with each minute I’m in LA taking in my new life there, something from my past LA life will come creeping into my mental Rolodex. It’ll be up to me to decide whether or not to file it or trash it. I’ll probably end up using some of it to enhance this chance I’ve been given. I’ll treat them as blessings, a lesson but one thing I’ve already realized–I’ll never go home again.

Percheron Pate anyone?

Recently, Congress quietly lifted the 5-year ban on the funding of horse meat inspections, which means horse butchering could start up again in the states in the next month. While I find this completely reprehensible since I adore horses, I’m not surprised. The economy is in the shitter, and Congress is doing piddly-shit crap like this as a lame attempt to jump-start it without having to raise taxes on the disgustingly wealthy. What’s weird is the USDA doesn’t have the budget to do these inspections at the moment, but I’m sure they’ll figure something out eventually.

My feelings about this are contradictory: I find it appalling because of my personal history with horses, and I see the comic material as well. This got me thinking about the names of possible equine dishes at some of the fine and not-so-fine dining establishments in this country. Thanks to Laura Bong, Paul Sloth, Jeff Myers, Ajit Samudra and Jill Weiss for their contributions.

Here we go (with apologies to Lucky Lady, Buttsy, Filly, Thunder, Sesame Street, Desiree, Lady Bug, Charlie and all of the horses I have come in contact with in my lifetime.)

Coming soon to a menu near you!

Shetland Pony Pie

Connemara Cutlets with a lovely Belgian Bechamel sauce

Gelding Goulash with Paso Fino Paprika

Palomino Pancakes with Secretariat syrup

House-made Hoof Hash

Clydesdale Clambake

Man O’ War-wich

Trigger Tri-Tip

Mustang Masala

Lippizan Lasagna

Chincoteague Pony Cheesecake with a Goldolphin Ganache

Selle Francais Chopped Salad

Shire Sherbert

Alydar a la Mode

Welsh Pony Rarebit

Risotto del Ruffian

Burro Burritos

Zuppa del Zenyatta

and finally, Seabiscuit.

It’s safe to assume that I’ll be in horse hell where I’ll be stomped, bitten and shat on for eternity.

Why yes, I AM easily amused!

A few things captured my attention today thanks to my friends Stephanie and Erik. Originally, I posted these gems on my Facebook page, but since my privacy settings are tighter than a nun’s ass, I decided to post & provide McCrabass commentary. Oh joy!

Speechless is the best way to describe my reaction to this morsel. Why oh why would any man want to inflict menstrual pain on hisself? The Japanese have invented some cray-cray crap over the years.

And ..

Sure, these items are odd but the menstruation machine is the apex of odd. Stinkin’ weird. What type of mind thinks of this? It’s fascinating yet scary to think of what kind of upbringing the inventor and his helper had (the helper being an ob/gyn–makes me wonder what med school gave this Steinmetz a med degree). Who, in their right mind, thinks that having a period would be something worth experiencing? Why would anyone who doesn’t have the proper plumbing, want to go through the cramping, the bitchiness, the flow-from-hell, the bloating, the urge to pick up a semi-automatic and start picking off people randomly? What the shit is wrong with people? Maybe this guy should shove a couple of heavy-days tampon up his poop shoot for affect.

Stephanie Goldberg…you know me so well.

When I worked on “Fantasia 2000” back in the day, I met one of the bestest people ever: Erik Smith. We had so much fun on that film–watching the daily antics of the producers, the artists and other production folks–with bemused looks on our faces & sotto voce comments to one another. Erik ended up with the coolest job on that film: He was the Brizzi PA. What’s a Brizzi you ask? ‘Brizzi’ is the last name of twin brothers, Paul and Gaetan, who are amazing artists. They directed a “Fantasia” segment AND they were/are the nicest guys around. Working with them was a privilege too because they were really passionate about their work so it didn’t feel like work. It felt like animation/art school. Kind of a cool experience for a girl from the far Western ‘burbs of Chicago.

Paul and Gaetan Brizzi

But, back to Erik. He’s a HOOT. And, since we’ve re-connected on Facebook, we’ve picked up where we left off in a cyber-kind-of-way by posting odd articles on each other’s pages quite frequently. Today was no exception. I was at work when this appeared in my newsfeed and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from doing a McCrabass imitation of that horrible, ear-splitting Julia Roberts cackle in the middle of a quiet newsroom. I know, your ears are bleeding just thinking of that horrible noise. *shudder* Sorry folks..we all gotta experience pain in life. If I have to go through it, so do you.

What I like the most about this invention, is the variety that’s offered from casual to oh-so-fancy–as if your pet is really gonna give a shit what mom jeans your fake lap is wearing when he/she flops his mange-y ass on it. However, once these make millions of dollars for the inventor, I’ll be slapping my noggin saying,”Why didn’t I think of that?? What a dumbass I am. First the Sham-Wow and now this?? I’m never gonna hit it big.”

Well, maybe I won’t hit it big. But at least I don’t want to blast this country to oblivion like this hayseed. Thanks a lot, Utah. You really DON’T get it, do you?