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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!
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
Gap Jeans make my ass look "Pa-Dunk-a-Dunk" according to the two African American men trailing closely behind me for two blocks. What exactly is "Pa-Dunk-a-Dunk" and is it a good thing? Please say "yes". For the love of God and my future well-being please say "yes"! Just don't tell me it means in urban speak, "Damn! That girl's gotta some jellyfish loose in her drawers," or something horrid like that. Please. I'm going to go cry myself to sleep now.
Link - 11:20 PM -
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
On the way to lunch Jack asked, “Do you need a jacket, or, say, a bra?”
Yes, Spring has arrived and the folks here in Rockefeller Center think that it needs to be –30 degrees in the office so we worker bees don’t nod off at our desks after a big lunch. My nipples (Eek! I said "nipples"!) are like diamonds. They could cut glass. Glass, I tell ya! All the women of New York look so scandalous. Sluts.*
Hey, speaking of sluts, Sex and the City was filming in front of Saks today. So, while I waited for Greg to arrive for our Tex in the City production meeting, I watched from the comfort of my conference room the elaborate orchestration unfold as Sarah Jessica Parker & Kim Cattrall did a few takes. All I have to say is, "I could do that . . . cheaper." The final season premieres on my birthday. I think I'll throw a party. Wanna come?
Hey, speaking of Tex in the City, the producers of Urinetown the Musical have agreed to cross promote our new 4: Your Consideration Art Series. The official launch is May 8th and you, gentle reader, are invited to join us. Go to Dallas BBQ for pre-theater dinner and drinks at 50% off (!), see the musical for $60 (!), then stick around to join our friend Charlie Pollock in a "talk back" at the theater. Ask him questions, get his autograph, whatever, just be there or be square. If you can't make it May 8th, the discount code is good through July 6th (excluding Saturday night performances), so don't miss this Tony Award winning show. Got it? Good! Email me with any questions or visit www.texinthecity.com for more information.
*Excluding me and the bag lady on 57th & 7th. Thankyouverymuch.
Link - 4:56 PM -
Monday, April 28, 2003
Oh, Puh-leeze!
Watching the opening sequence to Mr. Personality makes me want to shove splinters under my nails. Quotes such as "This is a life long decision" and "I'm going to meet the love of my life" make me want to shove splinters into that chick's urethra while I wear a creepy mask. Now that would be worth watching. Yee haw, the bad weather spell finally broke. I watched Katie Couric play tennis this morning during breakfast then at lunch the Smithereens performed outside in what was recently the ice skating rink and is soon to be my Friday after work hangout here in the famous Rockefeller Center. I was grooving in place, letting the sun damage my skin while humming along to "A Girl Like You". Ah me, Vitamin D and skirts without tights. It's enough to bring tears to my eyes or maybe that guy next to me just farted. I don’t care, I’m happy!
Link - 2:37 PM -
Saturday, April 26, 2003
Last night I scored a ticket to an open bar fundraiser for a gay and lesbian charity. Wall to wall men and not a one of them looking at me twice. No lesbians to flirt with either. I threatened to wear a strap-on and start randomly poking people for attention.
At the bar, I whipped out my handy little "magic wallet" which garnered from the bartender a gleeful "Wee, you have one of those weird little things!" To which I replied, "Yes, it's called a 'vagina'. Very strange and unique. You won't see anything like it here."
Scott required nourishment in the form of fast food and convinced me and Patrick to exit the subway at Times Square for some Mickey D's. Apparently the 24-hour McDonald's in Time Square is not open 24-hours at all and instead closes at the precise moment our hands touch the door handle. Suck.
Link - 5:09 PM -
Friday, April 25, 2003
My friend Lyric Benson was killed by her ex-fiance yesterday who then killed himself. I'm sorry that such a sweet, lovely creature was cut short so young. May she rest in peace and may those fortunate souls that get her organs live as happily as she did. The world and I will miss her. And, Bobby, what can I say? I'm sorry for his family. I know what it's like to be related to someone who has done such a horrible thing and it’s not easy for the survivors of such tragedy. Bless their hearts.
Link - 4:08 AM -
Thursday, April 24, 2003
I’m on a junk food kick as of late since I can’t seem to stop losing weight. Yes, I realize this makes some of you hate me. No, I don’t care. So, I’m in a long line at a very busy Ranch 1 waiting patiently. Finally, I have only one customer between me and the lovely Ranch 1 employee that will serve me my deep fried goodness. Unfortunately this customer is Sally from When Harry Met Sally. Sally:
(1) orders what is normally a pre-packaged salad with certain contents "on the side" and insists that they remove the bacon because she's a vegetarian;
(2) asks to see the ingredients listing for three different types of salad dressing;
(3) closely inspects each individual listing as set forth in item #2 above before determining she can’t have them due to allergies and needs to look at more;
(4) inquires as to what type of oil in which the fries are fried because of those darned allergies again; and
(5) after paying for her order, decides she wants a drink after all so places another order.
Hey, Sally, I'm this close to dunking your head into a vat of peanut oil. News flash, Sally: You’re in RANCH 1! Take your vegetarian-eating, on-the-side-ordering, allergic-to-everything ass over to PAX. You're standing in the way of my deep fried chicken that I’m going to slather in that dressing you can’t have. Got it?
Link - 2:22 PM -
Wednesday, April 23, 2003
So for lunch, I stepped outside to have a private conversation on my cell phone, because where else can I have a private chat in New York City but right out on the sidewalk where no one cares what I have to say as long as I stay out of the way? So I was loitering outside of Crane & Co.'s Fine Stationery, because it's rude to go inside to such a quiet place and have a flirtatious conversation for everyone to hear.
But I was being flirtatious, so I was smiling a lot and licking my lips and teeth and getting myself worked up talking about the next time I get to see the certain someone on the other end of the line. Meanwhile, I did notice that a Big Apple double decker tour bus has pulled up beside me and I did hear the noise coming from the open air top level, but I did not pay attention, because, you see, I was lost in my conversation and am expert at tuning out the nonsensical noise of Midtown Manhattan.
It wasn't until I playfully smacked my own ass that I heard an instant, deafening ROAR of excitement from the top of the bus that I noticed that I had an audience of about 20 college-aged men that were whooping and hollering, cheering me on, trying to get my attention and I had just pleased them in the most base sort of fashion without my intent. I half expected beads to come raining down on me. Just where did they think they were for Spring Break?
So I announced in a fake New York accent: "Can't you see I'm having a conversation here? Your bus made a wrong turn somewhere, boys, 'cause this ain't Mardi Gras." And with that, they let out a collective, "Awwww," and disappeared into the City looking for their next thrill. Sorry to disappoint, but my mind is made up.
Link - 2:53 PM -
Tuesday, April 22, 2003
Alan Greenspan is having prostate surgery today. Why is this news? Why not just say a "surgical procedure"? The only prostate I find myself daydreaming about (because that's all I think of all day---a man's prostate), isn't on Wall Street. Frankly, I resent the media implanting the mental image of his engorged gland into my brain. There's not a lot of room up there and I would rather not have it cluttered with nonsense like that. I need to save room for things like the coffin birth phenomenon, if I can eat that chicken in my fridge without getting food poisoning, and most importantly, who is the next contestant booted off Survivor!
Link - 4:04 PM -
Sunday, April 20, 2003
Girl Before Art
I scored a free ticket to the Matisse/Picasso exhibit at MoMA. There is something completely overwhelming about coming face to face with a piece of art that is reproduced ad nauseum. Because to see it, to come within an inch of it, makes me want to eat it. Cut it up and swallow it and make it mine, but I was still full from the $9.95 brunch feast so it's still there for you to enjoy.
Then on the walk home, I passed two piles of poop and found fake teeth on the counter at Dunkin Donuts.
Then I watched the Game Show Network as I am wont to do for many consecutive hours in the absence of a marathon of forensic shows. Match Game is the best. They smoke and drink and talk about sex on a game show. Today's Match Game quote: "Chaquita the flamenco dancer announced, 'I forgot my castanets, so for tonight's performance I'll bang my _______ together.'" Ah, the hilarity that ensued. I wish you were here so we could play together and talk about poop and teeth and art.
Link - 7:26 PM -
Saturday, April 19, 2003
Ticket to see Funky Meters - $35.00
Beers and wings - $22.50
Entrance to Tobacco Road - $12.00
Realizing I'm not the young whipper snapper I used to be - Torture
Link - 11:29 AM -
Friday, April 18, 2003
So it's Good Friday. Not sure what that means to you religious folks, but what it means to me is a seat on the train, no one in the office, no phones ringing, non-stop web surfing without those pesky interruptions for "work" and leaving work early sans guilt to go shopping on 5th Avenue without a care in the world. Good Friday, indeed. Hallelujah (or whatever y'all say for this "holiday")!
Link - 11:02 AM -
Thursday, April 17, 2003
Dinner on my rooftop with the skyline of Manhattan and full moon as a backdrop really can't be bad if it tried.
Link - 11:01 AM -
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
Spring time is a time for renewal. It's a reminder that the cycle of life never stops. Fresh blossoms and green life sprout all around me. The birds and the bees comingle to spread new life. And, believe it or not, I'm buying into it. I'm smitten. And, dare I say it? I think I'm in...LOVE! All I can think of is him. I want to lick him and taste his warm, salty skin. Mmm...so hot and tasty. And, his smell? Oh, his smell drives me mad and lingers long after he's gone reminding me of our fleeting moment together.
Some people might say he's no good for me, but I don't care. I love him still. I might even love him because he's bad for me. I don't care about that either. I just know that I enjoy him and I don't want to share him with anyone. He's mine, all mine, and you can't have any of him.
Who is he? Click here for the answer. Isn't he delicious?
I haven't had McDonald's in at least 8 months. Today at lunch I went on a binge and, obviously, I don't regret a single moment of it. Outrageously satisfying. I just might do it again some day.
Link - 4:00 PM -
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
Assuming the IRS doesn't reject my tax return, I owe the founder of Turbo Tax a blow job* or some other equally rare and wonderfully pleasurable treat.
In other news, I finally tackled the colossal dirty laundry blob that was overtaking my life. It was so big, Paquita climbed on top and looked me in the eye. I'm 5'10" tall. She's a tiny dog. It cost $5.50 and 1.5 hours of my life. Was that so bad? I suddenly feel like I have a whole new wardrobe and I won't be ashamed to have my heirs (HA!) dig through my things in the event of my sudden death. What a great feeling! I owe myself a blow job**.
I still haven't sold my car due to my immeasurable laziness at facing a daunting task. If I sold it, I would save myself $600 a month. Don't you think that's reason enough to take selling it seriously? I'm a self-defeating ass.
* Mom, "blow job" is what kids these days are calling ice cream cones. No worries.
** Again, Mom, think "ice cream cones".
Link - 12:59 PM -
Thursday, April 10, 2003
The phones in our office are equipped with an interoffice buzzer system. This means one touch dialing will produce an ear piercing BEEEEEEE BOOOOOOO that demands immediate attention before it will BEEEEEEE BOOOOOOO at you again. Several of these demanding signals in a row are enough to drive a girl (me) mad. I am petitioning to have the BEEEEEEE BOOOOOOO changed with a less aggravating, more happy summons. Perhaps positive affirmations that rotate on a regular basis. For my phone, I will have:
– Have you lost weight?
– Damn you're fine!
– You’re smart, talented, funny & sexy and dammit people like you!
and the obvious:
– You deserve a raise!
I think I’m onto something here.
High Anxiety
My heart's not big enough for these butterflies. They make me want to run and run till I can't remember the reason I started running in the first place. Run so far that nobody knows who I am or from whence I came. Run so my heart bursts open and lets these butterflies free because they hurt. They hurt bad.
Link - 3:58 PM -
You Say it's Your Birthday!Hey check out what I got Christian for his 30th birthday. I swiped some photos and information off the internet and registered and created his very own website. Unfortunately Blogger picked today, April Fool's Day, to have MAJOR bugs in templates, so I wasn't able to transfer his Tower of Hubris blog just yet. But when I do, then he'll be as cool as me and y'all will need to update your links. Yeah, homework for everyone!
Happy birthday, Christian!
Link - 3:46 PM -
Wednesday, April 09, 2003
I was stuck underground between subway stops due to "heavy smoke" at Lexington Avenue. After an extremely long wait, I started getting nervous and wondered if I would be burned alive or die from smoke inhalation first. All I could think of was:
(1) Poor little Paquita and Larry Bird and Phish home alone for a few days before anyone noticed I was missing and broke into my apartment to save them and loot my things; and
(2) I have the most monumental pile of dirty laundry hidden in my closet that someone would find once the looting began.
I had a friend over the other night who went into my kitchen and said, "Hey, look, you’ve got a quarter on the floor," then bent down and picked it up. My reply, "Yeah, it’s been there a coupla weeks."
What’s wrong with me? Am I that lazy, really? Laundry sucks, but come on, I can't pick a quarter up off the floor? Time to start training Paquita to learn a new trick called: "Take care of the lazy slob that occasionally feeds you."
Funked up Facts
I learned a disturbing fact from the source of all great knowledge ---why, the flip side of a Snapple lid, of course--- and thought I’d share it with you:
Snapple’s "Real Fact" #137:
The City of Los Angeles has 3x more automobiles than people.
Get all the "Real Facts" at snapple.com
What the Hell? Those self-indulgent pricks! Something Christian might point out is that Real Fact is in quotes. Is the "Real Fact" not real at all? Perhaps the folks at Snapple are just toying with us East Coasters trying to get us to hate the West Coasters by leading us to believe that they are excessive, grandiose, spoiled snobs. I wonder what their Snapple lids say? Perhaps this:
Snapple's "Real Fact" #2003
New York is responsible for all earthquakes. Get all the "Real Facts" at snapple.com
Link - 3:55 PM -
Monday, April 07, 2003
Who's in Charge Here?
Walking home in the slushy, dirty water with wind and sleet beating against my face, I passed a shrub -- it's branches heavy with snow. From somewhere inside the bush, came the noisy chatter of some 20 birds. I pictured one certain lead ave getting a severe talking to by its flock:
"You dipsh*t! Had to big a big shot and wouldn't stop to ask for directions. I bet we're still in Canada! Or, worse, in Alaska! What about the weather report? I suppose you forgot to look at that before you had us fly 1,000 miles for what? For this?! THIS?? Wait till the Aviary hears about this! They'll take your wings for sure...Idiot."
Scene
Trenches in the Iraqi Desert. Soldiers in full fatigues with weapons drawn are crouching in an effort to avoid being detected by the enemy. Suddenly the digital sound of Hava Nagila breaks the silence and is followed by a soldier loudly whispering, "Hey, wassup? Actually, now's a bad time. Can I call you back?" Crossfire ensues.
End Scene
Lesson: Turn off your cell phone ringers, people, or you could get your head shot off. Fair warning.
Link - 3:53 PM -
Saturday, April 05, 2003
Have you seen The Pianist? I did on Saturday afternoon. If you haven't, read no further.
The movie was very good; but, when watching a movie in Queens, it's inevitable that you will get frustrated by the inconsiderate bastard assholes that have the nerve to take up space on this Earth. Where's Darwin when you need him? I sat through two hours of cell phones, chatter, incessant scratching, and fidgeting in a very quiet, depressing movie. It was in the final dramatic scene when a woman with a thick New York accent and a husky voice, as though she's been smoking since her days in the womb, loudly says to the screen version of Wladyslaw Szpilman:
"Take off the f*cking coat!"
Thanks, Lady, for breaking the tension. We needed that. By the way, Lady, did you know this movie was based on a true story written by Szpilman himself? No? Well, it was. You know what we can deduce from that? He LIVES. Whether he takes off the coat or not, he LIVES! So, shut the fu*k up!
Link - 10:25 PM -
Friday, April 04, 2003
My trip to Hong Kong was canceled, so the Rolling Stones and the Rugby Sevens will have to come to me. Somehow, in addition to royal disappointment in an effort to avoid SARS, I still managed to get sick. So, I stayed home today and spent my time making a little surprise gift for my Tex in the City partners. I turned shrinky dink paper into key chains with our logo and website. It seems baking is contagious, too. Where will the Martha Stewart madness stop?!
 
Link - 3:52 PM -
Thursday, April 03, 2003
Once, in the slums of Houston when I was tiny and very young, the neighborhood kids were playing with a fun toy found by the railroad tracks. It was basically a giant "pillow"; thick material filled with air that cushioned the freight in the rail cars. Some older boys hauled it over to our apartment complex with a genius idea. The first kid in line would sit on one end of the pillow and the second kid would then run and jump on the opposite end sending the sitting duck sailing through the air.
Great waves of laughter cut through the afternoon smog and wound their way into our kitchen where I was surely baking cookies or weaving macramé with my mother. My interest was piqued, the lure of the adventure was too great, so I abandoned my activities and wandered outside to see what I was missing.
Once I saw the boisterous escapades that were unfolding without me, I immediately wanted to join the group; to be part of the fun.
"Please let me do it!" I begged to my much older brother. He got a look on his face that at the tender age of four I was unable to translate, but at the bitter hardened age of 31.5 I recognize as evil subterfuge. "Sure! Let her do it," he agreed, as he shot a devious glance to the biggest corn-fed Texan boy that side of Mississippi. And, with that, I placed my tiny little bottom on the big stolen pillow and let my feet dangle in anticipation as that hulking corn-fed beast bounded towards me as fast as his feet would carry him.
The butterflies were big at first, as was my smile, but the rest was a blur of blue sky and rapidly approaching grass. Things went black for a split second before I saw stars and the sidewalk an inch from my face. I couldn't breathe since the force of my land had squeezed all air out of my miniature frame.
Still, somehow I managed to find the breath to run away from the peals of howling and shrieking, mocking laughter that trailed further and further behind me. I didn't want the adventure anymore. I wanted to be back with the cookies and macramé and Love. Just like today.
Link - 2:50 PM -
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
So as not to alienate the little amount of estrogen I currently possess, I baked a cake. I actually baked a fu*king birthday cake. I had two pans, a cake plate, and a bowl to mix up all the freshly purchased ingredients. Never mind that I still don't have dishes on which to eat said cake, but I BAKED A CAKE! The amazing part is that it actually tastes great. It's scrumptious and moist. For breakfast it went very well with chocolate milk and for lunch, Dr. Pepper made it so much better. Hmm, I wonder how beer and Nerds taste with vanilla icing? Gotta run, it's snack time!
Link - 1:23 PM -
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