I picked up an issue of the throwaway Orange County rag at D’s tonight and looked through the ads. There was lots of great stuff for people who have money and want to feel like they also have that elusive thing: class. For example:

• A real estate company advertising that their development (very expensive) had “pure panache”.
• A dating service for “gorgeous women and upscale men” that is having a private ”lingerie fashion show” at the Ritz at which all the models are guaranteed to be single, available, and registered with the agency.
• A cosmetic surgeon who will provide you with “French Pouty Lips” for $250 (Freedom Lips?)
• Another surfer-businessman OC LAMER
• Corporate Comedy!
• The previously mentioned-in-LJ “Model Quality Introductions” which got me my best spit take ever*
• Inappropriate, gratuitous, and risibly horrible use of words like “plantation”.
• A spray tanning system called “High Pressure Destiny” that “Gives unbelievable results: FAST!”
• An article about a tennis player named “Stephi Graph” (maybe her family invented the paper?)
• This asshole

There’s more, but I think I’m burnt out now.

*When I was giving bruisedhips the skinny on Model Quality Introductions the other night I uttered their closer phrase: “After the initial date, if the chemistry is mutual, you can start a relationship then and there.” And she showered the patio with tea. Best spit take ever.

..is a smooth “jazz” version of Spandau Ballet’s “True”.

Talking with my mother about Spalding Gray, she remarked that in his monologues he is always very controlled and distinguished and professional: almost the impersonal narrator of his own tale. He describes things that are very difficult experiences some times, but doesn’t let emotion slip himself, or covers it with dry humor.

Based on what we know about his own emotional life, though, he’s often very overwhelmed.

I realize that this is my technique as well. When I have an insoluble problem or an unhealed injury, I throw a net of words at it. Frame it this way and that, do it as dialogue or story or poem, do it in the second or third person. The completely unacceptable things in my life turn into Exercices de Style soon enough.

This has the effect of drenching my friends in my own tears to an extent and makes me look like a real whiner at times. However, I think it’s what keeps me alive. Lately, when I’m in a state of need and failure that I haven’t had in 15 years, prose is all I’ve got.

And unlike poor Spalding, I haven’t jumped off any ferries. Besides, if I jumped off the ferry in my town I’d just be in six feet of gross bay water.

I’m sitting surrounded by friends right now and I feel completely alone.

What the fuck. One failed attempt to step out of my role and I’m screwed forever.

And people wonder why I don’t try so often.

Thank god I have a full liquor cabinet.

Further set of banned things:

1. Describing a good cigar (or damn near anything else) as “stony”

2. Specifying an income minimum in online personals

3. Fascism. The real thing, I mean, not Mom saying you can’t have the car keys.

4. Valentine’s Day (this is preemptive).

5. Sugarcoating turds. You know who you are.

6. The next election.

7. Reduced fat cheese. Jesus, it’s like foam rubber.

8. Celebrity meltdowns. We non celebrities have enough of those already, thanks.

9. Blaming people for their illnesses.

10. Geek culture. Forget it, folks, the dot-com years are over.

Don’t bother your pretty little head. Just lie back on the ponytail headrest and press the go thingy:

http://www.cars.com/news/stories/121703_storyb2_ut.jhtml?page=newsstory&aff=boston

IT’S FRIDAY AFTERNOON AND I SMELL A PARTY IN THE AIR!! WHO’S UP FOR GETTIN SOME CHORKARITAS AND FLACCIPENO POPPERS AT TGIF AND TOTALLY BLOWIN OFF THE AFTERNOON?? THE TASTY LITTLE HOTTIES HIT THE BAR AROUND 4 AND WE CAN GET THE FIRST HIT ON THEM!

THEN WE CAN POUND A FEW LITES AT THE LARDHOUSE AND HIT THE ROAD FOR VEGAS! WHERES MY ZEBRA PRINT FURRY COWBOY HAT? DUDE IF YOU JUST SHOW THE BITCHES YOUR MONEY THEY TOTALLY PUT OUT. BMW AND BLING EQUALS BJ!!!

OR MAYBE WE COULD JUST YELL DICK JOKES AT THE TV IN THE BAR UNTIL IT’S TIME TO GO HOME AND JERK IT TO THE VIVID GIRLS AGAIN. FOR GOD’S SAKE DON’T TELL DAD I’M GAY.

Monster.com keeps sending me updates on the “Security Clearance Job Fair”, which is a lovely piece of Orwellian speech.

I hope there will be secure balloons and a thoroughly vetted clown. And when all the children have been cleared, they can go home again! Except the ones who have been bad.

Remember, total government control means full employment in tomorrow’s national security state. How are we going to get to Mars if you’re not a team player, here?

Exit stage left, pursued by Rover (bloomp bloomp).