If you like comedy, PR or the occasional inside scoop on the entertainment world, then drop by for a daily dose written by me, Kambri Crews, producer and publicist to comedians and more!   Friday, January 31, 2003 Today I was busier than a cat covering crap on a tile floor. I finally informed everyone, "I MUST go to the Ladies Room!" "Fine," Trey replied, but he still did not leave my space. So, I tried my best to be discreet and get a *ahem* feminine hygiene product from my bag whilst he was distracted. Digging around and trying to camouflage my maneuvers, I decided it would be a good disguise if I grabbed a hairbrush to conceal the offending item. With one swift and determined move, I yanked the brush from its cozy spot in the belly of my purse. Instead of being concealed, my desired object flung itself out seemingly objecting to being hidden like some cheap floozy. My wide eyes followed its slow motion move as it flew through the air end over end over end, proudly announcing it's name over and over and over, "TAMPAX, TAMPAX, TAMPAX!" Sonofabitch. Without word or hesitation, Trey's catching arm flew into action. Suddenly he was Sandy Alomar and this was the World Series. The "ball" landed squarely in his trusty hand. He gingerly tossed it back to me and said, "I think this belongs to you." "Why, thank you. Indeed it does." And off I was to the dugout. Link - 9:31 PM -   Thursday, January 30, 2003 Gospel of Jack 1:30 Me as I Entered His Office: I have two things for you. Him: I know you do, darling, and they're beautiful. Link - 6:03 PM -   Wednesday, January 29, 2003 Is Anyone's Real Name Actually "Mommy"? In the slim possibility that I have a baby, my name will still be Kambri. Therefore, refer to me as Kambri. Thanks ever so much. Google Search I won't bore you with a list of search strings that have brought readers to my site, but I will ask about one. Just what exactly are "dry humping pictures" and why do more than one of you want to see them? Link - 9:58 PM -   Tuesday, January 28, 2003 My boss, two other attorneys on his "team" and I have all moved to a different floor in our building. This move has brought with it pros and cons. One major pro is the change in bathroom accommodations. Regular readers will recall my angst at the crappy ass bathroom I had to use and the poor etiquette that seemingly came with the facility. Hoping not to sound too presumptive and discriminatory, I feel obligated to elaborate that on the previous floor we were near the file room and copy center. So, rather than many high profile clients and top dollar attorneys passing in and out, I often shared the bathroom with low-wage personnel. Maybe they were the cause of utter nastiness, I don't know. Maybe that's being judgmental, but if those people can't piss right in a toilet, then judge away I will. Nasty wenches, whomever they might be and no matter how much they charge per hour. What I do know, however, is that I love my new bathroom and its cleanliness and the clientele. Please understand my utter disgust and disregard for public expulsion and displays of anything human. That includes kissing in public and relieving myself. Needless to say, I would not be a good candidate for Survivor, Big Brother or Joe Millionaire. Going to the bathroom in a bar is different. There are other people, there's a tune on the juke box to drown out noise, there's bar noise. In my new office bathroom it's so still and quiet, a pin drop weighs 7.3 on the Richter Scale. Lives are changed. I hate hearing co-workers or even thinking of them in any form other than around a conference room table or separated by a desk. Never mind that I've seen my boss with food stuck in his teeth, drunker than a skunk, with his pants unzipped, topless, his pants pulled up to his thighs, and giving himself insulin shots in various places. Not all at once, mind you. No, that would require a hefty payoff and I would be sailing the high seas as I typed this. When I went in the bathroom today to change clothes for tonight's fundraising dinner, I wanted privacy. I like privacy. Instead I was met with two women, one of whom informed me they were having a "conference". In the bathroom? I'm not seeing a man about a horse or anything (if you think I'm capable, you must be high); I'm changing from day to night with a switch of hosiery and removal of a shirt, but I wanted those two women to die. Really. I thought horrible, catastrophic thoughts of them and their unborn children. "Oh, you can buy a flap for your door and the cat will just go in and out. Blah, blah, blah. I think discussing pussy cats in the restroom at work is multi-tasking." Link - 1:11 PM -   Monday, January 27, 2003 Shania, Shania, Shania; tsk, tsk, tsk. Who the hell was responsible for that Super Bowl halftime show? And just what year is this anyway? Commercials referenced Cast Away (2000) and Willie Nelson's tax woes (settled in 1993), and performances included No Doubt's "Just a Girl" (1996), Shania Twain's "I Feel Like a Woman" (1999) and Sting's "Message in a Bottle" (1979). I won't even go into how ridiculous Shania Twain's outfit was or how awful Gwen Stefani sounded during her duet with Sting. Oh, and why is Celine Deon singing God Bless America? Maybe she meant God Bless North America? And Shania Twain? Singing "I Feel Like a Woman"? At the Super Bowl? What the hell is that? I wanted to puke all the dip and chips I devoured. Give me some heavy metal, man! Especially during a Super Bowl that includes two teams with pirate themes! But, the Super Bowl isn't about the show, right? As Nipsey Russell would say, "Riiiigggghhhhht." I love a good, gritty football game accompanied with various friends, beverages and snack foods, but I don't recall ever watching a really fun and exciting Super Bowl. The days of Jack Tatum aka "Assassin" are over I guess. Is it anti-climactic or what? I do enjoy the commercials, but should they really be the highlight rather than the game itself? Maybe it's because I don't care enough about the particular teams. Since moving from Cleveland, I haven't followed football as closely. Frankly, I lost interest after Art Modell shafted what were arguably the best fans in football and moved the Browns to Baltimore. What else to Clevelanders have to do in the stark cold days of winter besides watch football and defrost their extremities? Take away their football team and you might as well deprive them of oxygen (the element, not the cable channel). Final tally of the night: I lost $13, gained five pounds and was left wondering why I bother. Link - 11:16 PM -   Friday, January 24, 2003 A Summarized Story as Told by Jack Yesterday at Lunch: "Have you seen Jimmy's new joke? Jimmy has this letter written by a man whose wife ran off unexpectedly. In the letter he begs his wife to return to him. She writes back saying she won't be coming home as she is in Borneo and has found happiness and sends him a photo for proof. The picture shows her wrapped around a native with a schlong this big (gestures a size of about two feet long). So Jimmy has been running around the office showing everyone this joke. Can you believe that? In the office!? I mean, how juvenile! Grow up! But what I really want to know is, how did Jimmy get a picture of my di*k?" I'm lunching with Jack again today. O, what new quotes await me? We shall see. Lunch Time Follies Lunch was great. I still can't wipe the grin off my face. Duck steak, chicken schnitzel and chopped prime rib at Shelly's. Jack couldn't stop talking about the Borneo photo and how hard it is to walk around with a horse-sized co*k. He gave us this little gem as we bundled up in our coats: "So this Goyam walks into Saks and asks, 'How much for the coat?' The salesman says, '$1,500.' The Goy says, 'I'll take it!'" Jack then laughed so hard his face turned pink. Hard to believe he's 57 years old. Link - 10:03 AM -   Thursday, January 23, 2003 You Can Take the Boy Out of Brooklyn... Lunch at the Sea Grill today with three co-workers. Greens for $10; two crabcakes for $32. Classy. Yummy. Beautiful. Seated at a four-top. Jack takes a seat facing the ice skating rink. Later complains, "This seat sucks." I remark at how surprised I was that he had chosen that seat in the first place. His reply, "I wanted to face the big, gold, naked guy. Goldmember." "Prometheus," I inform him flatly. Later a child starts getting cranky nearby. Jack demands, "Shut the fu*k up. Who brings kids to the Sea Grill?" I tell him of Dim Sum Go Go and he wonders if I've ever been to Sum Dum Goy which evokes a big guffaw from deep within his belly. All along, several women parade to the Ladies Room past our table and back again. Finally no longer able to keep shut, he asks "Have you seen the asses on these women? Jesus! I bet they all have their own zip codes." And he wonders why I didn't invite him to Sheila's party. Link - 10:05 PM -   Wednesday, January 22, 2003 Year of the Ram My friend Sheila hosted one of her infamous soirees at her showroom for this welcomed event. Her friend Veronica, owner of Dim Sum Go Go in Chinatown, was kind enough to cater the affair. Can I just say, Dim Sum Yum Yum? In keeping with my true character, I made a few new friends. One of which is traveling to Morocco this February and has invited me to join the group. Umm, yeah, count me in! Then there was Mike, a reporter for the New York Times. He didn't laugh at anything I did or said, so I quickly decided I hated him for infinity plus one, but if I ever need a contact at the Times I might forgive him. Finally, I re-met Beth. She is a photo-journalist for the Associated Press whom I originally met this past summer at Sheila's rooftop luau which was complete with grass skirts, coconut bikini tops and an inflatable pool. Beth's husband Pancho hails from Chile and is also a reporter for the Times. Beth not only makes a killer batch of guacamole, she lived with a group of female gang members in Florida for six months as part of report. Beth Rulez! I think I'm going to go through initiation so she'll have to talk to me again. I'm just not sure about that whole gang bang thing. So um, yeah, happy new year and Rams are cool. Bipolar Disorder Defined I've endured two days of screaming, ranting and raving (no exaggeration, I promise you) from Bossman about a chipped piece of furniture and some other really petty problems with our office move. Granted we only moved one floor so not much should have been a problem, but still, what's with all that anger? Dude, relax. Around 5:00 today, he came out of his office all sing songy and whistling showtunes like he does, sidles up to me and says, "So, all in all it was a pretty smooth move." Either he's bipolar or that valium I slipped in his afternoon coffee was just what the doctor ordered. Link - 9:21 PM -   Tuesday, January 21, 2003 I had a crappy day. Not the worst in history seeing as how I incurred no bodily harm and didn't get arrested; but, crappy nonetheless, and the night's still young. It was stupid stuff, like my boss yelling at everyone, including me, which never happens. Yell at me, that is. He always yells at other people. All day. Every day. He hates Mondays more than anyone I know, and a Tuesday after a holiday might as well be the apocalypse. Since I love math problems, I present an equation: 1 day of work + 1 yelling boss + 1 man dressed like Statue of Liberty hounding me 3 separate times = 4 miles of walking in -30 degree wind chill factor + 1 bad day. I just wanted to slice somebody open. That is, until I got this. Link - 10:35 PM -   Monday, January 20, 2003 Listen, I've lost it. I've been hanging around people who are far too witty, well-educated and down right talented. I need to gather a pool of friends that are dull and deficient in all areas other than alcohol consumption in order to elevate myself to a higher plateau of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs and come this much closer to self-actualization. That's just how pathetic I am. Link - 1:50 PM -   Sunday, January 19, 2003 Since I have determined that "kambri" does not mean "foot odor" or "dog poo" in Swahili or Bengali, I can confidently inform you, inquisitive gentle reader, that Kambri Crews is indeed my given name. It is not short for anything. Nay, it was the creative result of my flawed but ever-loving deaf hippie parents. With the advent of the wonderful world wide web, I have Googled "kambri" and determined that it means either "Supreme Queen" in terms of the cut-throat sport of child pageantry, or is the region now known as Wales named after Kamber, son of Brutus. In the spirit of the upcoming Super Bowl XXXVII, "You make the call!" Link - 10:32 PM -   Friday, January 17, 2003 If you need great elevator conversation to break the awkward silence, then I'm your gal. Aching to meet a mysterious stranger but don't have the guts, then it's Kambri to the rescue. Have a death in the family, I'm out of there quicker than a hooker's ten dollar trick. I just saw Shelly for the first time since her mother died a few weeks ago. Christmas and New Years have passed since then so it was a while before I realized, "DOH! Her mom just died. Fuuuuuuccccccck!" I spent the next ten minutes trying to stutter and stammer my way out of the very delicate situation. I wanted to be sympathetic but am without the social graces necessary to pull off such a stunt. I just hate to see people in pain, especially people I hardly know. Shudder. I cried during Chicken Run for fu*k's sake. You'd think I could manage to muster up some emotion no matter how forced and awkward. Jeez. Take away my Girl Club Card before any real damage is done. Link - 10:08 AM -   Wednesday, January 15, 2003 This afternoon I met with a Broadway producer. I was reminded why I'm so glad to be out of banking and in the entertainment business when... ...he accidentally said Tex in the Titty and nobody blushed. ...vibrators and sex workshops were a legitimate part of discussions. ...he hugged me goodbye. I never got that kind of return from stock options. Link - 10:08 PM -   Tuesday, January 14, 2003 Side Obsession Seriously, I want to know, what doesn't taste better with either a dash of lemon juice or washed down with chocolate milk? Gospel of Jack 1:14 Man Regarding His Under-watered, Hence Droopy, Plant: It looks like my di*k when I see my wife naked. Good christ. I'm never getting married. So this guy, late 40's to early 50's, also known as my Key Demographic, was slightly hitting on me the other night. It was all in good taste and harmless really, and then he learned I was taken. Key Demographic: Oh, you have a boyfriend? I'm glad I found out before I wasted any more of my time. Asshole. Link - 10:09 PM -   Monday, January 13, 2003 Another weekend passed filled with more fun with Bob & Sarah and more new faces. I'm bummed Sarah has to move so soon after having met her. I already had our future mapped out with background music and everything. Gospel of Jack 1:13 Man regarding a dinner party seating arrangement: I see my wife see every fu*king day, why would I want to sit next to her? Awww, isn't marriage sweet? Link - 12:38 PM -   Sunday, January 12, 2003 Lazy Sunday. I've had too much coffee, nothing to eat, played four rounds of Mad Libs and dug through a box filled with mostly stupid crap I've managed to cling to for far too long. Things like a 7th grade geography report on Kenya for which I received a 94, an 8th grade biography report on my uncle John Crews, recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, for which I received a 98 along with some humility, and a pile of letters written to my 16-year-old self by a tall blonde boy that won my heart with one look. I suppose keeping these notes are a sort of mental masturbation, not unlike this website. A solo stroking of the ego 2K3 style. But, I can't help it, this boy had me swooning. For a few wistful weeks in the Fall of 1987, he called me names like "baby doll" and played Pour Some Sugar on Me on his guitar as though he had written it exclusively for me. He wrote the sweetest notes full of misspellings and flirtatious lead ons. Reading them now, my face stings with embarrassment. I was so eager to be loved and was so desperately needy that I chased that kid away and my heart was broken. But I still have his letters, and I'm in love all over again. Hot stuff! Now double the age I was when I won and lost his heart at my own undoing, I'm still the same stupid girl making the same dumb mistakes. Only now I can vote and stuff. Link - 3:13 PM -   Saturday, January 11, 2003 After seeing Showgirls with the oh-so-cute-and-fun-and-always-up-for-a-good-time Sarah & Bob, I am now confident that my starring roles in such classics as the short film "Plain Trouble" and a satirical infomercial spot touting the "Abort-O-Matic" will have no harm on my career. Whew! That was a close one. Of course, I would have to actually GO on an audition to have a career. Umm...never mind. That monstrosity of a movie has not dented the careers of neither Gina Gershon nor Kyle MacLachlan; nay, not even the disastrous Elizabeth Berkley. Okay, so maybe it didn't propel Ms. Berkley's career, but was it ever really propelling in the first place? Perhaps had she worn twirling tasseled pasties, she could have thrust herself into another flick. Alas, she was sans accoutrement and only managed to *ahem* rouse controversy. After seeing Showgirls with the oh-so-cute-and-fun-and-always-up-for-a-good-time Sarah & Bob, I am now confident that my starring roles in such classics as the short film "Plain Trouble" and a satirical infomercial spot touting the "Abort-O-Matic" will have no harm on my career. Whew! That was a close one. Of course, I would have to actually GO on an audition to have a career. Umm...never mind. That monstrosity of a movie has not dented the careers of neither Gina Gershon nor Kyle MacLachlan; nay, not even the disastrous Elizabeth Berkley. Okay, so maybe it didn't propel Ms. Berkley's career, but was it ever really propelling in the first place? Perhaps had she worn twirling tasseled pasties, she could have thrust herself into another flick. Alas, she was sans accoutrement and only managed to *ahem* rouse controversy. Link - 4:41 PM -   Friday, January 10, 2003 This best selling author (someone who should have a firm grasp on the English language) called like 25 freaking hundred times yesterday regarding his book deal contract with 25 million gazillion questions. The best of which was: Best Selling Author: What is "i-t-s"? Answer: Uh, it's "its". You know, possessive form of the pronoun it. Used in a sentence: Let's cut your head open by its diameter. Okay, class, today's puzzle. I received a postcard from UPS noting that they could not deliver a package due to "Company or Person Unknown". Quesion: What's wrong with this situation? Answer: I RECEIVED the postcard. Link - 10:12 AM -   Happy New Year!!! Hey, 2002. No offense and all, but good riddance. Love ya, Kambri Link - 12:00 AM -   Thursday, January 09, 2003 Calling a Spade a Spade Is it a sign that you talk too much when your entire family consists of deaf people and your nickname is still "Motor Mouth"? Bridging the Gap Through Communication I asked Marc to translate the following phrases for me to give Bob to say to her German interns: Mein arsch spritz kartoffelsalat: My ass squirts potato salad. Schwartze bergsteiger im kino: Black mountain climber in the movie theatre. Zwei lowen mit drei grossen schwanz: Two lions with 3 giant cocks. Later, Bob, TJ and I had fun mixing and matching phrases as we rehearsed pronunciation: Mein arsch spritz drei grossen schwanz im kino: My ass sprays three giant cocks in the movie theatre. I can't wait to see if Germans will live in harmony with Bob after she tests her new linguistics. Email exchange with a highly intelligent and super funky male: Me: I drink too much, bite my nails, have a fu*ked up family and am really just poor white trash all made up nice. Him: Stop. You had me at "I drink too much." Link - 2:14 PM -   Wednesday, January 08, 2003 Besides my bit of advice regarding undergarments, the following is what I DID learn when I visited the back doctor: * My chest gets red and splotchy when I'm unexpectedly seen naked by a humorless stranger. * I am incapable of shaving my legs without missing a strip of hair. * I need to give myself a pedicure. * I could never be a stripper. * Dotted ceilings look 3-D. * I should loofah. The following is what I did NOT learn when I visited the back doctor: * What is wrong with my back. Link - 1:50 PM -   Tuesday, January 07, 2003 If, like me, you ever get severe back pain that lingers long enough that you visit an orthopedic doctor, take with you this little piece of advice: Wear underwear. Link - 3:53 PM -   Monday, January 06, 2003 Because I'm old, my back is killing me. So I got these new walking shoes and now my ankles hurt. Just kill me now before I start wearing things like these. Favorite Only in New York Conversation of the Day: Me: Are you interested in a free visit to a chiropractor? Him: Are you kidding me?! Unless it's with a 6' 2" Japanese woman with huge *censored*, then NO! Me: Come on, a 6' 2" Japanese woman? Him: Good, you see my point! Link - 12:38 PM -   Sunday, January 05, 2003 Random Questions I Thought Too Long About Today: ---If I were a hermaphrodite, would I still get a bikini wax? ---Is it wrong to get turned on when my Sims make out in a hot tub? Link - 9:30 PM -   Saturday, January 04, 2003 Last night was officially a blast. No pig's blood was dumped on me and I met at least six really excellent people that don't stink. I've already bought some string and tin cans so we can play the telephone game. This is gonna be so much fun! I woke up after four hours of sleep, showered, found myself to be having the most excellent hair day, met Greg & Meredith for "breakfast" at the Westway Diner, and...now here's the kicker...ordered HAM STEAK. Oh yeah! I'm not talking some flimsy piece of flesh hardly good enough for Jame "Buffalo Bill" Gumb they tend to serve here in these parts. Nuh uh. I'm talking 3/4" thick Virginia ham steak heaven served up right with two eggs over easy, a pile of potatos and two slices of toast. MMMmmm mmmm! I'm going there every single chance I get. Bless his heart, but a pig's gotta die.** **I'm actually an animal lover and was appalled at the senseless killing of the pig in "Carrie". I do, however, wear leather, suede and fur and eat cow, chicken, fish, lamb, goat, pig, turtle, squirrel, dove, duck, pigeon, rats and marmots on a regular basis. Turns out I live so close to Bob and Christian, we could have been playing with walkie talkies all this time. Sonofabitch. Link - 10:43 PM -   Friday, January 03, 2003 I'm meeting some fellow girl bloggers out for a drink. I feel like I'm going on a blind date. I hope they're not setting me up like Carrie where I'll be the butt of some sick joke. I can hear mom now, "They're all gonna laugh at you. They're all gonna laugh at you!" Link - 5:15 PM -   Thursday, January 02, 2003 Thank God everybody is back in the office so I can have fodder for my blogger. At our favorite lunchtime haunt, the maitre d' brought around freshly baked cookies still stuck to the baking tray. My eyes must have bulged because he said I could have more than one. "Oh no. I couldn't. One is plenty, thank you." (ESP transmission: GIVE ME MORE! MORE, I SAY!!! A GIRL'S GOT TO LIVE!) A few minutes later he delivers a gift bag filled to the brim with hot, steaming chocolate chip paradise covered in powdered sugar ---yes, yes, yes!!!!--- and says, "Happy new year! It's my pleasure." Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, the pleasure is all mine! Link - 10:15 PM -