July 2005

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A Most Delightful Mistake

Filed under: Imported

Yesterday, my older brother accidentally emailed me a series of what appeared to be professional nude photos of Eva Longoria. I embrace such serendipitous gaffes. Upon ogling these pics, I assumed they were clever fakes--I hadn't heard anything about the least-desperate Housewife posing in the altogether, and I do mean altogether. Jonny (a graphics man by trade) selflessly agreed to examine the photos and ascertain if any Photoshop wizardry had transpired. He couldn't see any signs of tampering. Also, the head in the photos definitely belongs to Eva Longoria. Where in tarnation did these pictures come from? I've seen established celebrities do tasteful nudes before, but I've never seen one "flash the hamburger," if you know what I'm saying.

You're probably all like "Who cares?" I do, fucker. I have an issue of Celebrity Skin tucked into a hidey-hole in my house, and that magazine has logged quite a few miles, as the index finger flies. Naked celebrities are the best kind of naked people. Especially when said celebrities are gunning for legitimacy, only to be knocked off the pedestal by the timely release of some ten-year-old softcore pics.

(Alleged) Eva Longoria looks real good naked, incidentally. She has that tan, boyish, perfect thing happening. I shouldn't have looked at those pictures before bed. I undressed and stared at myself contemptously, like "Why can't my thighs be the same circumference as my upper arms?" Plus, I keep reading items about that bitch pigging out on tortilla soup and craft services goodies behind the scenes, while Marcia Cross and Teri Hatcher pop Stacker 2 and stare at her enviously. I fell asleep and dreamed that I had a loose, marsupial-like pouch of flesh on my tummy. Then I gave birth to an 11-pound baby, whom I named Jeffrey. My dreams never make sense.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 28, 2005 11:46 AM

 

IMD-Beeyotch

Filed under: Imported

It is officially real.

Scanning the description, I take some issue with the word "bizarre" being used to describe Juno's rather sage decision. Still, if the word "bizarre" prompts people to see the movie in hopes of seeing some kind of grotesque baby-eating climax, so much the better!

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 27, 2005 9:46 AM

 

Deprived of a Vital Nutrient

Filed under: Imported

I am not watching nearly enough television.

I have missed the last few episodes of The Surreal Life, Blowout, The Real World: Austin, and...well, I haven't really been watching jack. TV is light therapy for me; I absorb that healthy blue glow like a vitamin supplement. Lately, though, other distractions have been taking precedence. Writing. Repeated and studious viewings of Wes Anderson movies. Watching my husband gyrate in leather pants on an outdoor stage. Supervising the installation of now-useless air conditioners (Minneapolitans can thank me for this welcome cold front, as it obviously coincides with my purchase of central air.) I've been busy. Too busy.

I must make more time for TV. TV is my friend, my nurse. As a kid, I watched episodes of Spectraman on Super 66 for hours while my parents were at work. I learned valuable lessons about giant robots and their effect on mobs of Japanese people. As a depressed college student, I eschwed Prozac and chose to medicate myself with MTV. As I watched blocks of Busta Rhymes videos and marathons of Singled Out, I realized that things could be worse. I could be Jesse Camp. Or Vaj, Montana's cuckolded boyfriend on The Real World: Boston. I could be screaming "WHORE!" on national television.
Yes, TV has taught me many things.

Once, my parents took my brother and I on vacation to a picturesque seaside town in Florida. We quickly realized our beach house had cable (we did not have cable at home) and subsequently spent the entire vacation indoors, desperately trying to catch up with our well-informed, cable-subscribing peers. This was the summer of Beavis and Butthead, and we were insatiable. Fuck the ocean.

I gotta get that early passion back, man.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 26, 2005 11:46 AM

 

Sounds like someone's got a case of the Mondays!

Filed under: Imported

If you see me out and about and my face is crumpled with fatigue and annoyance, don't assume the worst. Seems I'm allergic to reality, and even a totally deck new haircut can't salve that wound. Chances are I'll be back to my optimistic self by Wednesday. In the meantime, I'll think lovely thoughts: Fluffernutter sandwiches! MTV Yoga! Virginia Madsen's nipple!

I should be in an awesome mood, since Jonny and I saw the Beach Boys at Mystic Lake last night. Longtime readers know that Jonny and I are obsessed with the Beach Boys in an entirely sincere, non-ironic way and actually met on a Beach Boys fansite. Now, the 2005 incarnation of the Boys only contains two legitimate members: original gangsta Mike Love, and Bruce Johnston who joined the band semi-officially in the Pet Sounds era and still has an achingly boyish voice. Mike and Bruce did a fine job playing the hits for the mostly geriatric crowd last night; we got a surf medley, a car medley, and a couple of ballads. Overall, it wasn't a spiritual thing like a Brian Wilson show, but I was entertained and twitterpated in that fangirl way.

I did not need to see Bruce and Mike dance awkwardly to "Dre Day" in mock-rapper poses. Yes, that really happened. People over 60 who are entirely unfamiliar with the genre should never rap, crunk, or "throw down." Also, Mike? Your joke about "N'Stink" was slightly stale. Slightly. But I still love you, bald man.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 25, 2005 12:35 PM

 

The Pusherman

Filed under: Imported

My psy-doc, to employ an overused simile, prescribes meds like candy. On Monday I went in to get my new Adderall prescription (after a failed experiment with another more insidious drug) and he tossed a sample pack of Lexapro at me as if it were a roll of Gummi Savers. I have no intention of taking the Lexapro, as I am not at all depressed and I don't aspire to anorgasmia. The Adderall? So far, meh. The first day I felt incredibly focused and euphoric. The dry eyes, chapped lips, and shivering didn't really concern me because I was kicking ass, productivity-wise. I was completing tasks, y'all! But today, I feel achy, tired, kind of tweaky in a meth-addict sort of way, and worst of all, my appetite has vanished I've eaten maybe twice in the last 48 hours, and both meals were technically snacks. Bye-bye, nice fat ass. I'm nosediving into Nicole Richie territory. I'll force myself to eat if I have to. I like having breasts and enough padding to protect my internal organs.

The nice stuff about this junk is that it wears off by nightfall, so I go to bed feeling like a normal girl, perhaps even a bit randier than usual thanks to the residual stimulant in my bloodstream. I don't think there is a solution to adult ADD, frankly. For every quirk the speed supresses, there's always a few that slip under the radar. My head is much quieter now, but I still space out every few minutes. I can finish a job, but I still find myself fighting distractions midtask. I still fidget. I'd up my dosage, except I don't want to, like, DIE. I hate drugs, believe it or not. I'm way more of a booze person. Alcohol temporarily controls depression, social anxiety, sexual inhibition, even OCD. It's a magical elixer! Don't tell me a couple of High Lifes are more dangerous than the amphetamines I'm legally popping right now. Hell, rub High Life on a baby's gums and peace is restored in the house. It's a charming and harmless potion. I mean, *hic*, a harming and charmless postion.Wai, wai, wait... 

We shall see if I remain on the Adderall. If I don't, yeah, you can have some.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 21, 2005 3:41 PM

 

Hello, Birdie

Filed under: Imported

Thursday is the opening night of the New Hope Outdoor Theater's production of Bye Bye, Birdie. This is notable information because my husband Jonny plays the titular cad, fictional '60s rocker Conrad Birdie. I have been watching rehearsals of this epic staging and I can assure you it is better than Cats. Way better. Also, you won't get molested by Rumpleteazer backstage. Jonny has a hot voice and he totally has the requisite pelvic-swivel down pat.

Unfortunately, the close attention I've paid to this production means that I've unwittingly memorized the entire fucking libretto. Want to hear my one-person rendition of "Telephone Hour"? How about my touching take on "One Last Kiss"? Jonny and I have both taken to singing "Kids" in loud, Paul Lynde voices whenever there's a lull in conversation. "Keeeeeeeeyads! I don't know what's wrong with these kids to-day!"

If you're unfamiliar with Birdie, I suggest you rent the movie version with Ann-Margret, who was eerily Lohan-esque in her youth. Ann-Margret is supposed to be playing an innocent small-town teen, but you can tell by the gleam in her eyes that she's all whore. ALL WHORE. Beneath those chaste capri pants, that carrot-colored snatch is pleading for rock star cock. You can just tell.

I hope the New Hope Outdoor Theater mounts a production of Oklahoma next year, as is rumored. Because I'm going to audition. I was born to play Ado Annie, the town bicycle. Plus, my dad played Will many years ago, so I'm an Oklahoma legacy! Now I just need voice lessons. Months of voice lessons.

The latest R&B song lyric that's cracking my ass up: "Don't you wish your girlfriend was RAW like me?" The delivery is just so desperate and pompous that you know the guy being taunted is secretly thinking "No."

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 19, 2005 12:21 PM

 

Ghetto Cooling System

Filed under: Imported

There is no heatwave that an icy-cold sprinkler and a pitcher of red Kool-Aid can't effectively combat. Ahhh.

We're finally getting air conditioning on Monday, but I think I might secretly miss the low-cost alternative we've been rockin'.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 16, 2005 7:30 PM

 

Breaking News

Filed under: Imported

1. My dog pilfered, unwrapped (without much finesse) and ate an entire roll of cherry Rolaids a couple of days ago. If you live in my neighborhood, you may have noticed that pink diarrhea now runs in the streets like a biblical plague. I'm sorry.

2. Taco John's (the Heartland's best quasi-Mexican chain) is still better than Taco Bell. Have you ever glanced at a standard burrito and thought to yourself, "That would be way better with some tater tots stuffed inside?" Look no further. "But wait," you say. "John isn't a Mexican name and this doesn't really taste like Mexican food..." SILENCE! You'll eat your tot-engorged burrito like all the other children in Iowa and you'll like it!

3. It's Thursday again, already. Well blow me down!

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 14, 2005 12:11 PM

 

The Douchepacker at Rest

Filed under: Imported

He thinks he's cute, but he's so not.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 10, 2005 3:20 PM

 

Mah New Bikini! TEE HEE!

Filed under: Imported

First whippets, now wardrobe: Reddi-Whip is a versatile tool!

P.S. Notice that I painted my hallway the color of Kraft Dinner. TEE-RASH!

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 10, 2005 3:17 PM

 

Little Grace Gives Grandma a Tragedy Boner!

Filed under: Imported

"Are you blogging about that preemie doll?" Jonny just asked me, peering into the office.

"Yes," I replied honestly.

"That preemie doll" is a cuddly collectible advertised in the Enquirer this week (the issue with Garner and Affleck marrying on the cover, smug in the knowledge that their lantern-jawed bastard will be born into legitimacy.) The doll is called "May God Bless You, Little Grace," and it's an eerily lifelike premature infant, complete with wrinkled vinyl visage, hospital bracelet and tiny knit cap. Preemies are an extremely popular subgenre in the tragedy porn industry; women of a certain age and temperament seem to think that there's nothing cuter than an underweight baby with life-threatening health problems.

This isn't the first preemie doll I've seen advertised in a white trash rag, but it's definitely the funniest. Here's why: Underneath the large and gratuitous photo of ailing Baby Grace, there's some fine print. IIt reads: "Part of the proceeds of the sale of 'May God Bless You, Little Grace' will go toward the prevention of premature births."

So...you're aiding in the prevention of the very condition you're fetishizing?

Interesting.

It's like if there was a porn video called "Sopping Wet Black Pussy" and all the proceeds went to the KKK.

P.S. We did some whippets behind the supermarket last night. I've officially trumped last week's Garbage Beer Binge in terms of ultra-trashitude.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 9, 2005 7:11 PM

 

Bus Stories

Filed under: Imported

This morning on the 14R, a guy holding a stuffed flamingo got on and promptly plopped down next to me, even though there were other seats available. He then proceeded to wave the flamingo in front of my face as if I were a infant at Sears Portrait Studio and he was trying to provoke a smile. I remained stoic. He waved the flamingo some more. Finally, I laughed. He put the flamingo down, with a proud expression that clearly said: my work is done here. He didn't bother me for the remainder of the ride.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 8, 2005 10:59 AM

 

Mommy Blog Alert!

Filed under: Imported

I know you visit the Pussy Ranch because you've come to rely on me for sick, offensive content, gratuitious use of the word "cunt," slobbering descriptions of Virginia Madsen's highly lickable areolae in the movie Candyman, and straightforward, no-bullshit reviews of pickles. (Gedneys are still the best--piquant, zingy, and steeped in just enough dill.)

That said, I have to blog something sappy: My buddy Allison at long last brought forth a baby boy from her fruitful loins. Mom and son are trapped at the hospital for the time being because Wee Man is jaundiced. But that's OK, because jaundice is totally happening right now. Look at Lindsay Lohan!

It's so weird that a mere eight and a half months ago at our Vegas wedding, we didn't know Allison was preggers. And now? Instant mommy! I'm totally twitterpated for her and her husbo, and of course, I selfishly can't wait to hold the boy and inhale his Baby Scent, which is third only to New Mercedes Scent and Stripper Scent in the pantheon of awesome smells. I love other people's babies.

Speaking of babies, did you know that newborn kangaroos kind of look like pussy?Me neither.

 

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 6, 2005 2:36 PM

 

"Why?"

Filed under: Imported

I was cleaning the living room and listening to "Big Poppa" today (possibly the only song ever to glorify eggs, cheese and Welch's Grape) and I had to note the Best Lyric Ever.

Biggie: "You got a gun up in your waist, please don't shoot up the place."

Puffy: "Why?"

WHY? Good question, Puff. Unsheathing a gat and firing on hundreds of innocent bystanders is always a sound decision. Why, indeed? Gunplay livens up any soiree! Loosen up, Biggie!

But then Big replies "''Cause I see some ladies tonight who should be havin' my baby."

Fair enough. Puff, don't murder any women until they've successfully conceived, enabled gestation and delivered Biggie's offspring. After all these fecund women have carried out their urgent task, feel free to pull out your firearm of choice and put some holes in the wall. But if you notice any other women with baby-making potential, put the deuce-deuce down, m'kay?

Puffy and Biggie, y'all were crazy!

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 4, 2005 1:30 PM

 

The King of Bums

Filed under: Imported

Note to self: Never again allow yourself to get so wasted that you fish a half-full can of Budweiser out of a PUBLIC GARBAGE CAN and drink it in front of your horrified companions.

(It was still cold and delicious.)

Today, I have to figure out how to exorcise The Stench from my basement. There's this kid nobody wanted to sit near when I was in first grade because he smelled like a rotten cheeseburger soaked in ammonia. That exact smell has begun permeating my rec room. I have no idea where it's coming from, but I will find it. I'm going to rent one of those ultrapowered carpet cleaners that you have to be licensed to operate in certain Atlantic states. Meanwhile, my bonus girl is watching Saturday morning cartoons down there, ignoring the Stench with the practiced concentration of a child who's learned to ignore lots of things. I swear I can smell it all the way up here, and keep in mind, my olfactory nerves have been all but numbed by constant exposure to three stank pets and public garbage cans stocked with cool, delicious Budweiser.

Posted by Diablo Cody at July 2, 2005 9:58 AM

 

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