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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!
Saturday, August 30, 2003
Tonight I went to see American Splendor. There were some terrific performances by some fine actors, but I just don't get how it scored a 92 on Metacritic. Harvey Pekar's comic book is basically a blog, only illustrated and stapled in the middle.
On the way to the theater, we saw a dead homeless guy. He was flanked by his sleeping friends and seemed to have died in a state of shock -- his eyes opened abnormally wide, mouth gaping, cheeks sunken in -- very strange to see. His friends were in for a rude awakening.
Update: A few people have chatted with me regarding the Brick House song and have informed me that the phrase is a shortened version of the slang referring to a hot woman as being "built like a brick sh*t house". I assumed this as I am familiar with that slang, but I don't understand why it's to be considered a compliment. After all, brick or not, she's still a sh*t house. Tonight I went to see American Splendor. There were some terrific performances by some fine actors, but I just don't get how it scored a 92 on Metacritic. Harvey Pekar's comic book is basically a blog, only illustrated and stapled in the middle.
Link - 11:39 PM -
Friday, August 29, 2003
So, I didn't stick around for the VMAs. (I did, however, take some photos of the carousel and stuff.) After dodging and darting through an ocean of teeny bopper boys and girls all set to go to college this year on Daddy's dime, I realized I have no clue who most of the nominees are and don't care. Frankly, I'm a numb-skull when it comes to music. I'm the same chick whom Sheila corrected at her luau. "I'm a believer!" turned out to be the Go Go's "Our Lips are Sealed." SAY WHAT?!?! Sheila was surprised at me, "It's the Go Go's! It's the name of the song!"
Yeah, and they're singing "I'm a Believer!" What don't you get?! She's making this sh*t up!
My ex-boyfriend from four years ago, Mark, who now lives in Orange County, California as though he's retired (playing golf, biking, hiking...where's the work, there Mr. Mark?!) insists that I've ruined his favorite Who? song forever because now when he hears, "Eminence Front" all he hears is "Lemonade Strut". As he put it, "I should have pushed you out of the car."
Finally, my friends in Columbus were mortified when, during an Ohio State pre-football game tailgate, I declared to anyone within earshot that the live band sucked because they didn't know the lyrics to, "She's a Freak, OW!" The band had the audacity to sing, "She's a Brick House." Whatever.
Link - 1:08 AM -
Thursday, August 28, 2003
I finally bought a set of dishes. That’s right, you read it here first. After six months of living with one dish that in its former life served as a candle holder, I am the proud owner of a set of simple, dark red dishes. And a shower curtain. I own a shower curtain now. Still no shower rings, but I’m working on that. Today I might get all crazy and buy some flatware and a bowl or two. It just depends on how exciting these VMAs are.
P.S. Please pardon my delayed posts. I’ve had some publishing problems.
Link - 1:07 PM -
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
Sean Paul was rehearsing for MTV’s VMA’s all day yesterday. The song was great the first time, fun the second time and really fu*king nauseating the third, fourth and fifth times.
This giant carousel is right outside my boss's window. MTV's Moonman sits atop and giant paper mache heads of different musical stars (Madonna, Britney Spears, etc.) serve as each decorative seat. Really fun to see.
The red carpet on which everyone will walk is in what normally is the Channel Gardens in Rockefeller Center. This means my lobby will serve as backstage again as it usually does for the Tree Lighting Ceremony. Incidentally, my law firm is the only tenant in our 6-story building. This means that we employees and our security guards are all on a first name basis...it's not like working in a giant conglomerate where no one knows or cares who you are. This translates into lots of free (read: illegal) access. So, tomorrow should be a very interesting and hectic day. Pre-show red carpet coverage starts at 6:30 EST. The News circle (I'll snap a pic tomorrow) is literally steps from my door, so for those watching the awards tonight, you'll see my building and possibly me hovering in the background.
Oh and what’s all this talk about love and stuff from Monday's post? I was talking pure, unadulterated public sex in bleachers! I told Christian we looked like we had our photo taken at Olan Mills, he said, “What’s Olan Mills?” ACK! I promise to show you and you will know. Feathered bangs, missing teeth, Mom's oversized tinted glasses permanently staring back into me. I shudder at the thought.
Link - 1:05 PM -
Monday, August 25, 2003
I scored more free Yankees tickets . . . this time versus Baltimore. I rang up my best boy (pictured far right -- click for a big pic) and asked him to join me for a last minute adventure to the Bronx. Lucky for me he said yes, and off we were on the 4/5 Uptown Express to watch the Bronx Bombers prevail yet again.
It was quite the perfect baseball game . . . lots of excellent plays, perfect weather and, my food group staple: beer mixed with hot dogs and mustard. Really nothing of importance happened, and I thought how telling that is of New York that so many absurd and wonderfully bizarre things happen so regularly that when I have just an amazing, perfect date it seems unworthy of a journal entry. That somehow if no one took a tumble down a flight of stairs, if I didn't catch a foul ball with my beer mug or see a homeless guy take a dump in someone's nachos, that I might as well have been comatose. That somehow to just simply laugh and talk and hug and have sex in the bleachers while being filmed on the jumbo-tron is equivalent to my sitting on the couch eating an entire can of Salt n' Vinegar Pringles while watching a Forensic Files marathon. Well, it's not. It's messier, and apparently it's illegal. Who knew?
Link - 4:56 PM -
Sunday, August 24, 2003
Luaus are fun. Grass skirts itch the hell out of sunburnt skin, but luaus are fun. Once again, Sheila's amazing rooftop served as the location and David Bowie and Iman still didn't come over to join the fun...they just gazed at us longingly...their pretty, rich noses pressed hard against the glass. Losers.
 I spent today nursing my skin by hanging out in Central Park, reading, writing, drinking beer, eating hot dogs and nachos and watching Orthodox Jewish kids play softball in full Orthodox Jewish garb on one field and a bunch of rowdy old men play a double-header in full baseball uniforms on another. Team "Butt Spankers" won the first game. I didn't stick around to see who won the second, especially after seeing one Butt Spanker rip his shirt off and start bumping chests in a show of aggressive foolishness. I wanted to shout to him, "You are middle-aged. This is for fun, remember?!" What kind of example was he setting for the little Jews?
Link - 8:02 PM -
Saturday, August 23, 2003
Part of what makes a person mature, the thing that makes them worth knowing, is their ability to admit their mistakes. To say, "Yes, I was wrong. You are right," is a horse-sized pill to swallow. I want to know people with the capability of swallowing it all, without question, every last drop of their mistake(s).
Last night, I gave my mother what was quite possibly the worst tongue lashing I've ever given anyone. She listened and agreed. She was wrong. I was right. My baby is called "Tex in the City", and until it provides me with the income I am currently afforded by filling Viagra prescriptions and rushing insulin to various chi-chi NY restaurants, well, it's still in diapers and needs my nurturing. I told her, "Consider it adopted from Korea. It doesn't carry your DNA, but you have to love it just the same." Besides, my baby won't grow up to be a paranoid schizophrenic a$$hole like some people, so she should love it even more.
She also said, "Please don't tell anyone. I'm ashamed." Umm, too late.
She'll be making her third trip to NYC next week. Her first consisted of a Big Apple Tour Bus across the City with NO stops. (They were a-scared.) Her second included the premiere of an award-winning feature film and various touristy stops. Her third, well, I hope it will be the charm. No parties, no premieres, no paparazzi -- just possibilities . . . and me, her potty-trained, self-sufficient, fiercely independent baby.
Link - 12:59 PM -
Friday, August 22, 2003
If My Party Wore Diapers, You'd Be Here.
I never get hateful or vindictive on this site about anyone I know personally. First of all, I just am not a hateful person (unless you are under 4 feet tall chasing me through a store asking, "Do he bite?") and find negative energy to be useless, futile and, more importantly, contagious. You reap what you sow, you get what you give, what comes around goes around, blah, blah, blah.
Mainly, though, I generally just dig everyone. In fact, I find something to love about most everyone so easily, that Christian has queried, "What makes someone special?" We, of course, were talking in the romantic sense and my answer I will save for another day called "Never".
Instead, let me go against the grain. Why not? I'm really annoyed that I'm now too chicken to go up on my rooftop ever again (even for an innocuous dinner) and that my Super knows too much about the placement of my various freckles, so let me spew my anger on you.
As you know, I threw a party. (No, I won't talk about it ad nauseum anymore, so " Silent Friend" of the comment box; just relax your anal glands lest you pop a vein when I poke you with my index finger.) Well, it took six months of planning and hard work and we were all very excited about it. I, naturally, wanted my mother there to share in the fun, especially since Meredith and Greg had their families there and Scott, at the time, was expecting his to be in attendance. She said she couldn't afford it and didn't have the time. Okay, understood. Hopefully there will be another, more exciting event that she can make.
Well, what is it? Ten days later? Guess who just left for a two week trip from Texas to Florida then Niagara Falls with a possible stop in NYC to see me? Um, yeah, my mom. The same woman who hasn't even asked me how the party went even after I emailed her and left several voice mails.
She did call, however, to find out the price of diesel fuel. Wha? About ten minutes of listening to how she was going to be traveling all over the country over two weeks in a travel trailer and also has another trip planned to Washington (the really far away state, not the city), she finally asks if anything is going on with me. Hmm, I just threw a party for the Governor of Texas, but, no, not much is happening really. Same old, same old. Thanks for asking. If my party wore diapers and sh*t itself she would've tripped over her ovaries to get here and clean baby bottom, because, as you know, mopping up infant feces is validating.
So now you see why I'm bursting with excitement to tell all you anonymous folks about my mini-successes ? Because no one genetically connected to me even gives a rat's ass. They're all old-school deaf people (i.e., don't read hearing people stuff), in jail, on medication or otherwise too poor and "busy" in the suburbs watching television, mowing lawns in criss-cross patterns and tending to the cows. So you, Silent Friend, you are the best thing to ever happen to me, and I can't seem to please you, either.
So . . .
this is Kambri Crews, signing off. The pleasure, it seems, has been all mine.
Link - 11:36 AM -
Thursday, August 21, 2003
Hey, Ann thinks we're terrific! You wouldn't dream of debating with her now, would you?
Link - 12:57 PM -
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
So, I lied.
 I have no other things on my mind as of late other than Tex in the City, Ann Richards, I'm Not Slowing Down and all the press that has been surfacing. I fielded a few phones calls and inquiries today from various publications and wished that this production company of ours could pay my rent. The "work" just doesn't feel like "work". It feels right and it feels good. If only real life would stop creeping in (like Jack hounding me from his Hampton home for things like Viagra prescriptions), then I would totally stop drinking and popping valium and concentrate on nothing other than parties and plays and socializing. Seriously this balancing work and "home" is just too much!
Link - 12:55 PM -
Monday, August 18, 2003
These Toots(ies) Were Made For Walkin'
My feet must be made of leather. So many people were kvetching about their walk home on Thursday and the sad state of their feet. I walked four miles in 1.5 hours in four inch (motherfu*king gorgeous) heels with no problems whatsoever. Bet you want to suck my toes now, don't ya? Thought so.
Pale Idiot
I'm really, really, really proud of Ehren and Roxy for pulling together Pale Idiot, a terrific show with a great ending, for the Fringe Festival. Congratulations!
Link - 12:53 PM -
Sunday, August 17, 2003
Okay, I promise I'll move on to topics other than Tex in the City and our outrageously fun and successful book party, once you check out today's Sunday NY Times!
Link - 9:53 AM -
Saturday, August 16, 2003
Favorite Quotes From the Ann Richards Book Launch Party
Ann Richards during her speech: "Down in Texas, the gas prices have gotten so bad, wives have to form carpools to run over their husbands."
or:
"I'm Not Slowing Down until they put a picture of me on a Smucker's jar and Willard Scott reads my name on the air."
or:
Jack to Ann Richards, reformed alcoholic: "Hey lady, move out of the way, some people are trying to get a drink."
Link - 8:52 PM -
Friday, August 15, 2003
When walking home from work, I do not recommend these shoes.
Unlike the four hour, scary and lonely walk across the 59th Street Bridge on 9/11/01, it took me a mere hour to get home from Midtown and was shared with a friend from work. Quite a different adventure.
Christian and I bumped into each other in Astoria and decided to hang out on a rooftop where it was surprisingly cool. We enjoyed a candlelight dinner of pasta and wine, played cards, and talked of the stars and passing planes and laughed too hard about something silly. In other words, it was just like any other night we share together . . . only hotter.
So when people talk of yesterday it will forever be:
the day Tex in the City made the NY Times for the first time;
the day some guy knocked his head hard into the wooden security sensor at Barnes & Noble trying to check me out;
the day a NY Times fact checker wrote me regarding an item referencing Tex in the City in this Sunday's edition of the NY Times. (Yeah, the edition that the whole world reads!);
and
the day of the Blackout of '03.
We made history!
Link - 12:50 PM -
Thursday, August 14, 2003
We're mentioned in the NY Times today. Yowzer that makes me happy. Going back to work does not.
Link - 7:49 AM -
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Ho hum.
We made the news again for this. Aren't we purty all gussied up?
Check out Tina Louise at our party. Oh, and Maurice DuBoise with Alina Cho. Howzabout Puff Daddy's Mama, Janice Combs, and how can I forget the lovely and sassy Ms. Ann Richards. Of course she was a gracious guest of honor and thanked Tex in the City (as an LLC and as individuals) in a nice little speech. She also spent some alone time with us in a private room after the party -- just the four of us with the best lady ever. She's so cool. The gift bags were a hit and as Chris Smith of the NY Times told me it was one of the best book parties he'd ever been to because it wasn't full of pretentious haute monde. Yes, we are friendly and welcoming. It's a curse.
By the way, it was 10 years ago today that I quit smoking. I haven't had a single puff since. Yay me!
Link - 12:46 PM -
Monday, August 11, 2003
Does Short Hair Make Me Old?
So, obviously I'm super busy what with planning a book launching party and all. (Tune in tonight at 9:00 to CNN to watch our lovely guest of honor on Larry King Live.) On Friday it dawned on me: I haven't a thing to wear. So, I went shopping at Bloomingdales and Macys for the first time ever. That's how much I hate to shop. Top my hatred of shopping with the change of the fashion season and you have one frustrated chick. I found a so-so dress . . . it's simple, which I love, but it's cutesy and I fear the color is too dull for photos . . . anyway, I digress.
Whilst shopping I encountered two of the most unruly kids EVER. Let's call them Motherfu*ker and A$$hole. Motherfu*ker and A$$hole were screaming (no exaggeration) and running full speed (I do not lie) and weaving in and out of unsuspecting shoppers (kill, kill, kill).
Let's pretend for a moment you are allergic to cats. Well you know how when you're allergic to cats, cats will then invariably come sit on your lap? Well cats are to you as kids are to me. This is especially true when Paquita accompanies me.
Assuming the above equation is true, you know that they instantly gravitated towards me. Now, generally, I will let kids pet Paquita for two reasons: (1) they're just kids who want to pet a dog...they're not having me change their diaper or anything co-dependent like that; and (2) it helps keep Paquita socialized and friendly. Well, not when you're Motherfu*ker and A$$hole, and certainly not when your mother can't be spotted. There was no woman within 100 feet that closely resembled these children. What a bit*h she must be. So, I told them, "Go away, I don't like kids."
Then they chased me--literally chased me--through the store, while A$$hole kept asking in her three-year-old gibberish nonsense voice, "Do he bite? Do he bite?" She never even waited for an answer. I hate that. If you ask a question, wait for an answer. If you don't, it means you don't really want to know the answer. Jerk.
Finally I turned and said in my most sinister teacher voice, "YES, she WILL bite you. Now, I don't know where your mother is, but I don't want you near me. GO AWAY!"
In unison, they took one step backwards, did an alarmed take to one another, then bolted. Victory was mine!
I got my hair cut today and Joe wanted to cut it in a short bob. I said, no. I'd like to grow it long again, actually. "Why?" he asked. "Well, I think I'm turning in to that woman. The one that all the kids run from and says is a witch. I give balls back, really I do! And I've never hexed anyone, I swear! If I have short hair, then I'm old AND mean. So, let's go long and blonde." So in a few months, I'll be long and blonde haired and yelling at kids, "You want your ball back? Well you can't have it! Posession is 9/10ths of the law you sh*thead, now get off my stoop!"
God, I can't wait.
Link - 12:45 PM -
Friday, August 08, 2003
I am a V.I.P.
Okay, so maybe it is not I who is Very Important, but I was with a Premium Blend alumnus which allowed me V.I.P. access to Comedy Central's taping of the next season of P.B. The host was D.L. (Peeeee) Hughley. (get it, peee-hughley?) A bad, bad choice in hosts. He speaks as though his cheeks are chubby on the inside. There's just too much interfering with normal speech patterns. His set during the taping of the first episode was pretty good, but when it came to reading from the teleprompter to introduce a comic he fizzled. Bad host, bad, bad.
My only other complaint was the lull in between episodes. While we waited for the band and host to change clothes, the warm-up "comic" led us with a little game of playing matchmaker. A woman in the audience would stand up, Warm Up Comic would ask a few basic questions (name, age, etc.), would hint at making a joke but would fall short, and then solicit a man to volunteer to meet her after the show. It might as well have been a horse auction. "Look at this little filly right here, boy I'd like to ride her bare back! Going once, going twice . . . YES, YOU! Meet her after the show! All right, next single woman . . ."
It was all very misogynistic and did absolutely nothing to keep the audience engaged (which is, you know, the point) as it went on way too long after the novelty of it wore off. If that's the route they wanted to go, they should have had a guy like Ron Poole who is aces at audience interaction. He could have turned that 20 minutes into a show in and of itself.
Luckily the stand-up talent rose above D.L. Hughley's marbles-in-his-mouth speech impediment and the Warm Up Comic's sh*ting on the audience energy. . . there really wasn't a dud act to be found. More importantly, Julius Sharpe did well, much to my, Christian, Eric, Jay and Bob's delight. His was a job well done, and I recommend you set your TiVo now.
Link - 2:53 PM -
Thursday, August 07, 2003
My paralegal degree was not for naught!
One year ago (August 6, 2002, to be exact), I completed the legal research and documentation to apply for a trademark with the United States Patent and Trademark Office for the Tex in the City logo. On August 5, 2003, the registration request went unopposed (thank you, HBO and the great State of Texas, et al.).
So now, our little ™ is a ®. My, how fast they grow!
Link - 12:34 PM -
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
If you are easily repulsed or offended by half naked muscular figures, do not - I repeat - DO NOT click here! (You readers who are supposed to be working right now, it's safe to open).
Last night I sat reeeeeaaaaaaaallllllllllyyyyy close (I could have licked the third base umpire on the face if I felt so inclined) to the Visitor's dugout in Yankee Stadium and watched Roger Clemens whoop the tar out of the Texas Rangers. Put a Texan in New York and just watch that Southern hospitality melt away faster than a jackrabbit running from a twister! The nerve! View the pics.
Miss Universe (not the one with the tiara, the one with real duties like dealing with my cosmic destiny) was kind enough to hold back the ominous impending thunderstorm and provide me with nine full innings complete with five homeruns and lots of foul balls that I totally could have caught if only I weren't wearing a skirt. Otherwise, I definitely would have lunged over seats and knocked over any slow moving child or senior citizen that got in the way of my scoring one of those puppies. See what I mean about that lost Southern hospitality? I'd better take a trip back home and fast!
A big Texas-sized thanks to Keith for the free tickets and lovely company.
Link - 9:31 PM -
Monday, August 04, 2003
Sucky, Sucky Monday
I thought for sure it would be one of those days. It started off miserably with the most humid air clinging to every strand of hair. I had an afro before I'd made it to the end of my block, the subway went express unexpectedly beginning with my stop and the next stop was Times Square. Times Square in heels with thousands of tourists on leisurely strolls when you're running late is the Universe bitch-slapping you and saying, "Slow down!" So, I did.
I resigned myself to being late to work, stopped for a real cup of coffee and made it to work just fine and looking like a melted piece of caramel. My boss wasn't even there yet. That Universe, she's always on top of things.
I got a free lunch during which we played "Gay or Not Gay" and tried to think of a modern-day "Dick". My boss kept making contributions like, "Dick Van Dyke". I guess the definition of "modern-day" depends on your perspective.
Later, Jack came in declaring, "Put away the women, children, goats and sheep, I'm back after a weekend with my wife!"
I had a productive Tex in the City meeting, a lovely dinner with Scott, made someone's day, never had to open my umbrella and crossed more things off my To Do List than I added on. Monday, if this is your attempt at sucking, well, you suck.
Link - 12:58 PM -
Sunday, August 03, 2003
So, we've gotten lots of RSVPs for our upcoming party including some true VIPs. It's hard to believe we've only been in business for little over a year and we've already had such great success, big and small. People are choosing to come to OUR party. Yeah, that same party that Liz Smith wrote about in her column a few days ago. I sometimes just guffaw out loud to myself at the thought. I just keep waiting to zip off my latex disguise and step out to declare, "You totally bought my act; just like Patrick Dempsey in that movie, 'Can't Buy Me Love' or some Pepsi Twist commercial!"
The details of the event are now starting to weigh more on my mind. Last night was restless sleep during which I dreamt the party was at the Cuervo Nation but this time I was wearing more than a bikini and was chatting it up with Swoosie and her P.A. I hesitated to ask for a photo of the three of us. However, our photographer didn't show, and I didn't want to not have any photos for Page Six. I mean, really, you know they're just dying to have a photo of me, Swoosie and her P.A. That's sure to be picture of the year.
Link - 12:29 PM -
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