Archive for 1980’s pop culture

Today’s Secret Word is “Barfday”

Posted in Art Lover, Dork Alert, Goof & Glamour, I Heart Funny Fellas, In Celebration of the Absurd, Star F*#ker, Style & Fashion, Technicolor Pop, Top 2% of Coolest Mofos, TV, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 28, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Happy Freakin’ Barfday, Peewee!

Hooray! It’s Peewee Herman’s birthday! Don’t know how old he is, don’t care. It hardly matters. Peewee’s oddly timeless.

I adore Peewee Herman and count him among the top 2 % coolest mofos (of the magical sort) on planet Earth.

I worship the H*Man. So I was damn sure gonna celebrate his birthday with sacred acts of tom-foolery. To keep my play pure, I’d —  of course! — avoid all adult responsibilities while evading mind-numbing normals.

I’d planned an ambitious day of play;  loll about on chatty chairs, ram things with my shiny pink bicycle. (A virtual valentine of a bike!) 

I was gonna cater to the id.

But I couldn’t let the day pass without wishing Herman a happy Barfday.

Barfday?

AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

I meant to say that! Barf barf barf day!

Happy Barfday, Mr. Peeee-weee… happy barfday to you.

Hope the day was good to you.

Hope the playhouse is over-flowing with cake, frosting, bows, balloons, jewels, cash, pills. And, of course, psychedelic butterflies with google eyes who’ll quickly morph — as needed — into bowties. So many dandy-fop bowties! In a neon rainbow of hues!

Hope Capt. Carl & Cowboy Curtis treated you to a tequila shot or two.

Hope Miss Yvonne spoiled you with a “gentleman’s choice” — whatever that means.

Hope your birthday (so far) has been really freakin’ cool.

Psst.

Today’s secret word is “barfday.”

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Yes, I was including wordpress among adult activities, what of it?

*The cubist Hermans are by Tommervick, whose modern take on cubism has reconfigured everyone from Elvis to Mr. Rogers. Spock too. I swear.

Hot Mummy Love is Some Sexy Ass Gentle

Posted in Romance & Relationships, SPOOKY KABUKI with tags , , , , , , , on October 28, 2008 by alphabetfiend

Some would consider this post a trick.

I forwarded a link (to its original post on my myspace blog) to a dear friend and he emailed this reply: “I’ve been rickrolled!” I had to ask him what that meant. He said “When someone, a normally trustworthy someone, sends you a link that you think is gonna be something really cool but instead you’re subjected to a Rick Astley song.” For my friend it was definitely a TRICK and the perfect excuse (finally) to use the term “Rickrolled.” Glad I could be of service. Even I admit it definitely fits the “Rickroll” bill.

Others may consider it a treat.

Either way, it’s SPOOKY KABUKI!

I have a soft spot for Howard Jones. I don’t love him like I do Soundtrack or Turbo or Gluecifer, it’s not like that. It’s quieter than that, girlier, coming from someplace young and sentimental and brave. I used to love this video in junior high. I’d stay up late on the phone while my skater boyfriend whispered sweet nothings and this would play on MTV. I loved those mummies!

Those mummies ARE love to me. We all have these deep sad owies, injured souls swaddled in bandages. At night those mummies crawl into that bed with the notch-less bedposts and softly unwrap one another. Tell me where it hurts? Here, here, here. kiss kiss kiss.

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Anyone whose ever met my man knows that I found someone with an “interior smile”. Now fer some tasty freeze in NYC… and yes, I know they’re in London but I’m more of a butterscotch dip cone on Bowry kind of girl.

Did this video inspire you to mummidom for Halloween? Make your own mummy costume and then make hot mummy love like some sexy ass gentle.

Slowly Becoming a Fang of HBO’s “True Blood”

Posted in Art & Culture, Feminism (Shades of Gray), Psyche & Sexuality, Style & Fashion, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 6, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I know this much is true:
I wanna do bad things with you. I wanna do real bad things with you.”
  — Jace Everett’s “Bad Things” is the True Blood theme song.

I wasn’t loving True Blood, as I’ve said. The vampires aren’t sexy. They’re pasty, bald, downright nasty. Their teeth extend in a penile way that’s stomach-churning. There’s this possessive rape-ish energy like in a high school romance. That’s not a good thing. If you think it is then you’re probably still in high school. Poor baby. Turn off that cell phone, spend time with friends, get real.  True Blood’s creator, Alan Ball, is bloody brilliant so I could practically taste the clever insanity. As fresh as a virgin’s plasma. Literary, intellectual, imaginative. If you’ve been around for 400 years, I would think you’d be smarter than the average redneck. I would imagine you’d have a weighty presence and an unsettling charisma. I don’t have a vampire fetish so it’s not enough that they have fangs and drink blood, big deal. I want my vampires to have something more, something extra. Beyond their raging unbearable hard-ons.

I think I just threw up a little.

I think I just threw up a little.

Maybe if the hero (not pictured above) were more like Vincent from TV’s Beauty & The Beast. Now there was a mythical creature that was, well, mythic.  And creaturely. The Beast took up space, his presence was palpable. Beast’s underground NYC home was crowded with books, easels, paints & other talismans. Vincent was sexy as a sulking, skulking Lion-Man. A gentle freak with depth of heart and psyche. I loved the Beast (and always knew that when I was a grown-up beauty the Beast would love me too.)  The show aired on CBS in the 80’s. It starred Linda Hamilton as Beauty & Ron Perlman as Beast. Ron Perlman has recently returned to weekly TV as the sociopath patriarch of a SoCal biker gang  on FX’s “Sons of Anarchy.”*  Once a beast, now a BEAST.  Perlman is great as Hamlet’s despot Step-Pop & mortorcycle madman. Too great. It’s hard; I hurt.  Perlman will always be my wise and loving Beastie. I want to scream at the TV “You Scum-Bag A-Hole, what have you done with Vincent?”

Vincent was a dreamy character who had a profoud effect on me. I haven’t seen the show since I was a little girl but I still make romantic choices based on beasty-ness. People who know me are now ticking back through my history, all the way back to that high school romance, and going yep yep yep. I’ve loved one magical beastie boy after another.

As a kid, I watched B & B; as a woman, I love a Beastie.

As a kid, I watched B & B; as a woman, I love a Beastie.

True Blood could’ve been the new cable version of Beauty & the Beast. Gorgeous, with a wicked taboo tickle and a hero so smart that he can like lick your brain.  Or make you tremble with just his juiced-up brain waves.  (It’s true, I’ve met a man like that. I don’t call him RobotBoyLoverMan for nothin!) I’m talking so smart, it’s torture.  With a dandy’s style and a philosopher’s smile. A cross between Oscar Wilde and Bukowski. Jesse James meets William James. Yum yum. This here nugget offers just a nibble of hope when, two minutes in, there is 60 beautiful seconds that evoke the early moments in a new flirtation and hint at an older intellect.

OK, yea, that was pretty delish. His smile after she says “I’m serious” and he says “As am I,” well, for a second I looked past the bad acting and the pasty pastiche. And Puns! Vampires love puns? Hmmm. I did not know that. Maybe I’m a vampire. I do love velvet (paired with black satin cigarette pants & beaded platforms) and I have been known to take the occasional love bite. Except not so occasional and not so loving. Mortals often admire my moonglow skin and fawn over my pitch black ringlets. They gush over my “old soul” and want to raid my closet. But like the stupid short-lives they are, they poo-poo my puns.

  • Fangtasia?”
  • “You have to remember that most Vampires are very old. Puns used to be the highest form of humor.”

Not only is Fangtasia a fangtastic name for a vampire bar but it was a great change of scenery for characters and viewers both. The visit made for vibrant visuals and the go-go dancing vamps had moves that mere mortals couldn’t bust.

  • “This one, she wanted to die. Everyone who comes here does, in their own way. That’s what we are. Death.”

When they’re running out of the bar to escape the cops and John whisks Sookie into his arms, yea, that was kinda cool. As a feminist, I’m loathe to admit it; but as a dorky romantic who once was held rapt by TV’s Beauty & the Beast, who crushed on brave lion-browed Vincent, ah, my heart skipped a beat. Goof help me. True Blood’s bloodsucker may seduce me yet. 

  • “This feels a little like what a vampire bar would be like if it were a ride at Disney World.”
  • “Well don’t get too comfortable. It tends to get more authentic as the night wears on.”

Maybe True Blood is Fangtasia. Maybe if we hang in there it will get more entertaining. Maybe the hero will read a few (thousand) books and bulk up his vocab. Maybe the actor who plays him (Stephen Moyer) will sharpen his acting chops. In order for “True Blood” to satisfy, I need a hero who makes me heady and flushed. Hell, he arouses Anna Paquin’s Sookie so much that she masturbates on his porch and all I want is some fangscination. Make me wanna suck blood. Fill me with craving.

Alphabetfiend is Dia VanGunten — Poetess & vampire punster living in the deep south (west). Working on a review of Ron Perlman’s new FX show “Sons of Anarchy” so be on the look out.

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