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!   Thursday, July 31, 2003 My Gawd I'll skip the details and say I that some years ago I was present when a child was born unto this earth. I just received an email which included an update on his life. I saw him come out of a vagina and fill his lungs with his first breath and now he is now a teenager. I want to kill myself. They Removed a FETAL TWIN, For God's Sake! Oh joy of joys! Thank you, Christian, for referring me to such rewarding television. I owe you one! Greg, no offense, buy you can keep your Designing Women reunion. Link - 8:59 PM -   Tuesday, July 29, 2003 News Flash: Botox Doesn't Curb Death! The media produces such elaborate "specials" upon the death of a Hollywood Legend, it makes me wonder if they plan these things in advance. It would be prudent; because, even in Hollywood, no one lives forever. Sadly, not even Katherine Hepburne. My only question is, what age is the threshold for entering the Editorial Death Pool, and is it weighted based on drug and/or alcohol abuse? Link - 10:26 PM -   Monday, July 28, 2003 Hey, Quick Question. Have you ever looked so long and deep into someone that you felt like your thoughts were in synch? That you both were feeling and thinking, "This is it. This is who you are and I am me and together this is us and this is it. This is who we are and what we'll be together forever. This is what it's all about. It doesn't get better than this." And each breath you took wasn't deep enough -- you needed more -- deeper, longer, harder. And you could see so far into them that you didn't need test results, you just knew they were O-negative and their arteries were clogged. And it hurt. It made your throat clench and tears well up like a slow leaky faucet when the water droplet gets so plump and weighty it bursts like a bulbous tick that ate too much for dinner. And all the while you wanted to say something profound but nothing came out of your mouth except, "Oh, baby, yeah." No? You haven't? Really? Hmm. Me either. I was just asking, you know, out of curiosity. Link - 10:40 PM -   Sunday, July 27, 2003 Consider this a warning! he writers of Sex and the City had better stop stalking me and my friends this instant! It was I that was in jury duty. It was I that had too much time to think about my relationship. Two weeks ago it was Greg who just wasn't into Sam. It was I who declared her hatred for carnations. It was I role-playing the unsuspecting wife with rollers in her hair before getting...er, anyway, where was I? After several days of voire dire, I wasn't picked as a juror on what seemed to be a potentially dull criminal case. I didn't mind the whole process of waiting, reading till my eyes bled, talking on the phone, sleeping in and getting home early enough to enjoy the afternoon sun. What is everyone else complaining about? The life of a potential juror was the most stress-free time I've had since my last trip to the Cuervo Nation. When my duty came to an end, I felt bittersweet sadness. They didn't want me. I wasn't good enough. Which one dismissed me? The plaintiff? The defendant? All that time I faithfully devoted and for what? To be sent home with a letter?!The officer stressed the importance of making a copy of the letter for my file as proof of service to relieve me from serving again for the next four years. One quick flash of a Xerox to get me off the hook of any civic responsibility. If only life were that easy. Link - 2:38 PM -   Thursday, July 24, 2003 Ah, much better! ***Update: New and final after photos added to the above link on Friday, July 25, 2003. Link - 1:38 PM -   Wednesday, July 23, 2003 Guess who's on jury duty? ME! Guess what I saw in today's NY Post during the many, many hours of reading many, many newspapers and books? THIS! (Scroll down till you see a photo of the lovely former Texas Gov. Ann Richards and read the accompanying piece.) Why, yes, that is another Tex in the City reference in Ms. Smith's column. Thank you, Liz, and I hope to see you there on the 12th! Link - 11:37 PM -   Monday, July 21, 2003 I mailed my payoff check for my car via overnight mail. I can't describe the relief I feel. The burden has been lifted. Ever since I sold it a few weeks ago, I've been unstoppable -- Task Mistress, Queens, New York. For so long I had been putting of the responsibility and the looming guilt and frustration paralyzed me. I'm $600 a month richer, but loads happier. Hell, look what I did to my kitchen in SIX hours! I never would have done that had my car still been collecting dust; because, if I weren't doing something proactive to rid myself of it, then I certainly shouldn't be doing anything. So now, for the first time since I bought my first car at age 17, I am car(e)-free. I'm living in a City which caters to commuters and my wallet now understands why rents are higher here. It's a lovely, lovely thing 24-hour, cheap public transportation. Now, if I could only face my Super and have him fix my tub. It's a Blog World, After All Peter, of The Inside of My Head, promises a detailed entry on our small world happenings of today. I'll be clicking refresh obsessively until I get the full report. Link - 2:35 PM -   Sunday, July 20, 2003 Some R&R at Astoria Park - Redux I packed up Paquita and walked through the 30th Avenue street festival to make my way to my favorite spot in Astoria Park. This time, however, I braved a bikini. That first time peeling of my top and pulling down my shorts in front of a group of fellow park lovers is a frightening thing. Suddenly it's just too bright. Can't someone please turn down the lights until I get undressed? Once I got cozy on my towel, I read some Harry Potter (sorry, Cheeks), had a one-hour phone conversation (!%@$#^), listened to three CDs and all the while Paquita found a way to be on top of me. On my belly, on my ass, on my chest, her ass in my face. It was hilarious and garnered lots of attention and comments which is just what I wanted seeing as how I was either reading, talking or listening to music whilst splayed out and sweaty in my bikini. I was foolish to think that those activities would protect me from people getting a close-up vision of what I've been hiding all Winter. Silly me! Link - 5:29 PM -   Saturday, July 19, 2003 What a boring day. I paid off my only debt (my car), obsessively cleaned my entire apartment, painted my kitchen, installed a new kitchen floor, went to the park, got some sun and read a book. God, I'm bored. P.S. Comments are desperately solicited on the home improvement link. (Specific questions are bold.) Link - 5:32 PM -   Friday, July 18, 2003 When I grow up, I want to be a man. Things like Hunting for Bambi, the last few pages of a magazine (hell, any magazine front to back), earning $0.75 on a man’s $1.00, it’s enough to make me just give up – throw in the towel – say, “Screw it! It’s a man’s world, and I want a penis!” Pensively thinking of how it all sucks, I got the sense that this handsome, well-dressed, 30-something man was keeping pace with me as I walked to work. He stayed by my side from 7th to 6th Avenue. Finally, between 6th and 5th Avenue he managed to eek out, “Thank God it’s Friday, huh?” As I instinctively do when someone addresses me, I turned my head to face the speaker. I made no response but rather raised my eyebrows as if to say, “Huh? You talking to me?” He repeated, “I said, ‘Thank God it’s Friday, huh?’” “Yeah,” I smiled, turned my head face front again and kept on walking. I wasn’t rude, but just lost in my own thought and not interested in faking a conversation with someone I won’t see again. Having failed, he crossed the street, weaving in and out of oncoming traffic just to get away from me. Then it dawned on me: I don’t want to be a man after all. I don’t want to be so driven by one thing, to always be hunting for Bambi only to have my bullets ricochet and shoot me down over and over again. So, I guess I’ll be keeping my vagina for the time being and the only penis I’ll have won’t be my own. Anyone know of a penis I can borrow? Link - 2:31 PM -   Wednesday, July 16, 2003 Plugging Away Catch Christian on Chappelle's Show tonight on Comedy Central. It's Mix Tape Vol. 2 which is a mix of the best sketches from the first season and Christian's turn as Chadin "The Mad Real World" should be included as it was balls out funnier than anything I've ever seen. He's in Montreal this very moment pretending to be single on a show called "Dating It" during which he'll go on a speed date with someone and then engage in some other crazy "antics" which, during the NY show last April, included him vigorously* making out with his date. Meanwhile, I'm busy plucking random hairs by their roots in an effort to gain a sense of control. I hope he'll still love me when I'm bald**, unless, of course, he elopes with his speed date in an effort to gain dual citizenship. Why wouldn't he? I hear poutine is delicious. *Word choice of Colette Hawley, extremely hilariousand chic host of Dating It. ** No, I don't suffer from trichotillomania. It's the poor girl's Brazilian wax! Link - 10:51 PM -   Tuesday, July 15, 2003 Reality Television Queer Eye For the Straight Guy I have found reality television perfection. Home improvement, makeovers, food & culture tips all mixed with straight men, intent on self-improvement, forced to endure homo-erotic flirtation and humor. I've died and gone to heaven. More jock-strap sniffing, please. Who Wants to Marry My Dad? Where is this shit world headed? Seriously. Let's trivialize marriage and relationships why don't we? You want a reality show, then let's start "Who Wants to Marry MY Dad" because nobody even wants to be his penpal even though I wished it for his Father's Day gift. You selfless bastards. Oh, so, he tried to kill someone, is that any reason not to like him? Jeez, tough crowd. Last Comic Standing Dave Mordal is consistently funnier and more real than most people. Who are the crack fiends that think Ralphie May is funny? I want to smack them with their hot spoons till their tender veins burst open. What is with Ralphie's ebonics hip hop rapping? The man is white. He is from Texas. That is not an accent. Me My dinner consisted of a bag of "Hint of Lime" Tostitos, two vodka gimlets and a Brooklyn Lager and then I ranted about reality television. My show is destined for cancellation. I give it till December; set your watches. Link - 11:57 PM -   Monday, July 14, 2003 Just for the hell of it. I have an idea for a spin-off of the book series “Encyclopedia Brown”. My first installment will be entitled Ex-cite-lopedia Brown and the Case of the Missing Phallus and the tag line will be, “He’s hot on the tail! That’s it. That’s all I have for now other than a skeleton of the plot. Candy’s sex toy is missing and it’s up to Ex-cite-lopedia Brown to find it. The usual suspects include a gardener, swimming pool cleaner, maid, cheerleader. I won’t spoil the ending, but it seems Candy doesn’t have the money to pay the fee. Looks like she’ll have to pay Ex-cite-lopedia Brown back some other way, and he’ll find out if she’s as sweet as her name implies. Hoo doggy. Work is slow these days. Link - 5:26 PM -   Sunday, July 13, 2003 The best thing about Paquita is that I always have a friend willing to join me . . . for however far . . . for however long. Link - 6:11 PM -   Thursday, July 10, 2003 Post Walden Pond, Christian's great set at the Regatta Bar in the Charles Hotel and many beers, buffalo wings and chicken fingers, we crashed our pretty little heads on the best fu*king bed and bedding ever created on earth. I tried to stuff the down comforter in my bag, but the lush towels and terry cloth robe were hogging up too much space. Who wants that nasty old comforter anyway? We already used it once; time to move on. So move on we did. We hustled back down to Boston's version of Chinatown (whatever...they have no raw meats and/or fish visible anywhere. Even here in Astoria, we hang out skinned goats and rabbits for the world to see. Chinatown, schminatown) and plunked down our $10 US Currency. For four hours and thirty minutes, I was the girl in junior high I always wanted to be. I was seated in the back seat of the bus where all the cool people sit* with the most popular, cutest boy who could see only the good in me. We made out for a few minutes then ate apple pie and Coke for breakfast. Then we napped for a while. Then we made out for a few minutes before we played a few rounds of the slapping game. Then I re-told Christian stories about how I once stole a girl's purse and kissed a nasty old cab driver to save $1 on my cab fare. Then we made out some more. Then we made up stories about Fung Wah, a bus driver afflicted with anal polyps, and Willie Booker T. Washington, the world famous basketball player with no arms. Then we made out and almost had sex on the $10 Chinatown bus. By then we had reached the Bronx, and the bus was bouncing too much; so Christian chickened out, because he didn't want to have a scandalous report in Page Six right before he goes to Montreal for the biggest annual festival in comedy. I tried to convince him that the only bad press is no press, but he didn't buy it. So instead I flashed all the truckers with http://www.christianfinnegan.com/ written across my boobies. ** Five hours later, we found ourselves back in Astoria and I was all grown up again. I returned my boss' voice mail to tell him the name of the restaurant he wanted was not called Chez Glue but rather la Gouloue, unpacked, French kissed my dog and met with my business partners about a very important book launching party that we are hosting. During the meeting, I had cappuccino and French fries for dinner.*** Jealous much? P.S. If you ever have a chance, be sure to check out the lovely Kelly MacFarland. She is one spunky, funny chick. She'd better get her ass to New York soon and bring all her fabulous wooden toys with her.**** *Rosa Parks excluded. **This is a lie. It actually read: www.christianfinnegan.com/TowerofHubris.htm ***I said I was grown up. That was a lie, too. ****This is not a sexual reference. Wooden sex toys could be problematic, what, with all the splinters and all. Simply put, she is from Maine. They make wooden toys there. Link - 12:20 AM -   Wednesday, July 09, 2003 Home, at last! It's physically painful being away from my computer, and, of course, my little lover Paquita. Here I am back where I belong . . . not really rested, but feeling stress-free. Monday included a walk around Walden Pond -- the Walden Pond -- and, other than crowds, cell phones, numerous visitor parking lots all packed full, an ice cream truck and souvenir shop, Walden Pond is just how Thoreau left it. It is lovely and peaceful and woodsy. To protect Christian's reputation, I will not post the photo I snapped of him chatting on his cell phone on the very spot where Thoreau's cabin once stood. (In his defense, he's a very popular man and was in town on business. The Walden adventure was a spontaneous suggestion and a diversion of his primary purpose.) I will merely tell you, dear reader, how the call was dropped due to poor reception. It seems a cell tower has yet to find it's way into the woods, unlike the land fill that resides next door. Yes, I said "land fill". Some urban planning genius, in his basest form of civil disobedience, thought it would be a good spot for the accumulation of massive amounts of waste. Genius, pure genius. He's on the road to the Presidency, I tell you! Link - 2:18 PM -   Sunday, July 06, 2003 After handing over the keys to my apartment to Bob so she can take care of my mini-zoo (tiny little Phish, wee Larry Bird and the sweetest, smartest petite girl with the big name: Paquita Borgito Borgato Chorizo Jimenez), I met Christian for our mini-vacation to Boston. It took us four subway transfers to get down to Grand Street in Chinatown, where we paid $10 to board a bus and entrust our precious mini-lives with the mini-driver for four and a half hours. The cynic in me kept waiting for the bus to fill with women carrying live chickens and lots of filthy crying babies. Instead we were surrounded by a mish-mash of people that were, for the most part, like us: bargain-hunters looking for a cheap ride. Aside from the queeny black guy who dropped the "F" bomb every other word while dripping sweat all over the seats as he searched for his ticket he seemed to have misplaced during the 25 feet trip from the ticket booth and his bus seat and the overweight Asian women who ate a full platter of the smelliest Chinese food in her seat before the bus (and, therefore, ventilation) was turned on, the passengers and the trip was smooth sailing and comfortable. Highlights included: Mad Libs littered with such classics as: "Ballet companies are springing up like the Chinese;" "My hobby is collecting boobies"; "Remember, the baby gets his warm he sauce around six o'clock"; and . . . a telephone conversation in which Christian's dad asked for the definition of camel toe. I think I'm going to enjoy this trip. Link - 8:42 AM -   Friday, July 04, 2003 Happy Independence Day!Sheila hosted one of her rooftop parties on her 1200 square foot (#$@%!&*) private roof. This little New York oasis sits on top of a building in Chinatown and is positioned so that both fireworks displays were visible (click the picture below to see a few more photos). With the radio blaring patriotic music and with the beer, burgers, hot dogs, swimming pool and hammock, I couldn't help but feel American. Ah, holidays without war: blissfully uneventful. Link - 2:15 PM -   Thursday, July 03, 2003 Ah, lunch al fresco style, one of my favorite New York things to do. Some of the best cuisine in the world, taxis, people, and pigeons. P.S. In case you were wondering, pigeons, unlike swans, are not monogamous. They are sluts. Horny, indiscriminate sluts. Link - 2:14 PM -   Tuesday, July 01, 2003 Dikes on Bikes or Lesbian Killers on Wheels Conversation exchanged over multiple emails with Anonymous Friend ("AF") AF re: my June 30 entry below: Did you run over another homosexual? (Sorry, i had to ask, but it seemed a little inappropriate to post on the blog.) Me: Another one? I MUST have told you about the time I ran over my lesbian friend, Christy, while I was trying to ride a bike!!!! Did I? Or do you refer to another unlucky homosexual? AF: No, I had no idea you once ran over a lesbian. Did you really? That was just a lucky guess. Weird. Maybe you just give off that vibe. Me: That's hilarious! Buy some lottery tickets, fool, because today's your lucky day...YES, I DID run over a lesbian before. AF: Hey, you have a lot of gay friends and you're kind of clumsy. I'm actually a little surprised it hasn't happened more than once. I haven't been on a bicycle since. If I had, you can bet I'd be running lesbians over left and right. Okay, that's not true. I'd be running over anyone and anything...I can't ride a bicycle to save my life. Okay, maybe to save my life, but I might get killed in the process. Link - 3:43 PM -