January 2006

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Details about the L.A. book signing

I'll be at Book Soup on the Sunset Strip on Friday, February 3 (that's this Friday) at 7 pm.

This was a very odd thing to encounter while wandering drunk down the Strip. Who is this bitch and why does she always wind up behind glass?

I cannot wait to (hopefully) meet s'm loyal Pussketeers, erstwhile readers, and Candyheads. (Yes, I invented that last designation in a characteristic fit of hubris. Cue the boos and hisses!) Seriously, please come see me if you're not busy. I will even kiss you with tongue if you're over 18 and not visibly oozing.

If I haven't answered your well-intentioned and/or FUCKIN' SCHWEET MySpace message, please forgive me. Internet access has become a complicated and fraught venture these days, and I will "holla back," as the platinum-haired white devil says, tomorrow evening. I know some of them are weeks old.

Celebrity sighting of the day: AFFLACK! on the WB lot.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 31, 2006 6:38 PM

 

Kicking Screaming Gucci Little Pigford

Attention, ANTM junkies: Yesterday I spied Eva Pigford at In 'n' Out Burger. She smiled benevolently as if to say, "Yes, it's me. Continue staring." Oversized Chanel sunglasses obscured her modelesque radiance, so as not to sear our mortal eyes. She has nice ass cheeks.

L.A. is good. We're all enjoying ourselves, $12 mojitos notwithstanding. Weirdly, I ran into Drivetime Divas Lori and Julia at LAX, and we shared a gleeful Minnesotan moment. Fuck Hollywood! We're big in Shakopee, muthafuckas.

I miss my friends, but I totally do not miss the stratus clouds and road salt.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 28, 2006 1:38 PM

 

Ernie fever-- catch it!

I really like our handsome new cat.

Since everything in life must be tied into Degrassi somehow, I have to point out that Ernie bears an eerie resemblance to Daniel Clark. It's the eyes or the chin or something.

Ernie, or "Boo-Erns" as he's occasionally known, sleeps a lot and squints adorably when roused.

He and Douchepacker get along pretty well. Note: Only about 1/3 of Douchepacker's torso appears in the frame. He's fucking massive. Ernie's a big boy too (in fact, his name at the shelter was "Big Boy"), but nothing can compare to the hissing sack of fat and organ meat that is Douchepacker.

I miss George, but I try not to dwell on it.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 26, 2006 9:03 AM

 

Analyze This

After writing today's entry, I realized that I constantly have dreams about either a.) chicks with dicks or b.) guys with pies. This must symbolize something, but what?

First, there was the infamous "Stephen King's Vagina" dream, in which I fucked Mr. King in a strange bed after he revealed his disturbingly girlish pussy to me. Oookay. Jonny supposes it was an ego dream, like "I'm such hot shit I'm going to literally make the world's best-selling author my bitch." I don't think I'm that monstrously confident, even on a subconscious level. But it was kind of fun.

A few weeks later, I had a dream I was making out with this blonde stripper. The blonde lowers her pants so I can lick her out. Only she has--you guessed it--a penis. Even weirder, she's wearing some kind of bizarre colostomy bag-type contraption and her penis is encased in glass tubing. She smiles apologetically. I reel at how wounded her dick looks. It looks as if it's been pulped by a steel-toed boot and the tube is its one salvation. The dick is withering before my eyes like an orchid, all livid shades of salmon and purple. I gulp with resignation and lower my head to service her.

There have been more of these dreams. I obviously have some kind of hang-up pertaining to mismatched and malfunctioning genitalia. Sexually, these images does nothing for me; in fact, the dreams usually end with me feeling squicked out and frustrated. So what's the ish? Psych majors?

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 25, 2006 11:57 PM

 

Ten days of sun

Tomorrow I jet off to milder, smog-choked climes with Jonny, Rik and Missi. We'll be hooking up with Scott and his esteemed wife Kate once we get there. The rest will be a drunken blur. Actually, I don't tend to drink heavily in L.A. because I'm always aware of the precariously large rental car sitting in nearby valet hock. (Northern California is a different story. I'll be back, Monte Rio. Seriously, read that description and tell me you don't want to go there.)

Anyway, I'll be in L.A. until February 4, and then I'll return with a base tan and a suitcase full of crusty laundry. I will be blogging, as always, from the Daughter. I'll let you know if I meet any famous anus.

Jonny finally got a CPAP machine to relieve his chronic sleep apnea. Last night he had to sleep tethered to an oxygen hose with this giant plastic device suckered to his face. He was too anxious to have sex but I am so looking forward to kinky HR Geiger fucking in which I pretend to be a sadistic alien nurse. I have a feeling I may be repeatedly denied entry.

Speaking of slutting it up, I had the weirdest dream last night. I was crouching naked in a Wal-Mart parking lot and this hot white trash couple offered to help me out. I hopped gratefully into their van and they drove me to their trailer. Inside, the girl went down on me and asked me to repeat the favor. But then she whipped out a giant cock that was, like spewing cum, only it was girl-cum that tasted like the Gulf of Mexico. Every time I tried to suck her off, she came. I was freaked out by her salty spew and I asked her to put on a rubber. She and her husband giggled and told me I was a prude. Then I woke up.

It appears that something exciting is happening to Dooce. I don't know the girl, but I do know that once the lawyers get involved, it's real. Good on her!

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 25, 2006 10:37 AM

 

Angelenos

Mark your calendars: I have a book signing in L.A. on February 3.

Time and location: TBA.

T&A: confirmed.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 24, 2006 5:31 PM

 

Dude, Where's My Network?

Let's catch up on things, shall we?

-In September, me and my Paramount homies successfully pitched a show idea to UPN. I should add that the entire time I was babbling in that Brentwood conference room, I was uncomfortably aware of a huge framed photo of Tyra Banks mounted on the wall behind me. But we did it. We were still in the running to be America's Next Top Show About Awesomely Promiscuous Veterinarians. (The other writers were ostensibly ordered to return to the house...pack their things...and go.)

-I handed in my final draft of the pilot about a month ago.

-This week, I was supposed to find out if the pilot got picked up or not. I'd bite my nails if they weren't made of plastic. I'm very proud of what we made. It should be on your TV.

-Now this. As of this morning, UPN has absorbed the WB. UPN as we know it is no more. The WB is no more. All WB and UPN shows will coexist in indivisible harmony on the same channel. Translation: Rory Gilmore and Veronica Mars could now plausibly hook up in a bi-curious crossover episode. Ratings, meet the roof.

I guess this means that if we get picked up, I'll be on "The CW," not UPN. Weirdness.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 24, 2006 12:39 PM

 

Husblog

Jonny has been quietly blogging over at MySpace. Thrill to his amusing insights!

Seriously, it's about friggin' time. I mean, I know he has the Pop n' Stuff blog, but this is the kind of inside dirt I desperately crave. If you can't cyberstalk your own spouse, who can you cyberstalk?

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 24, 2006 10:45 AM

 

Roller Derby Fever

My agent Sarah sent me this awesome Gotham Girls Roller Derby tee. Just in time for my City Pages review of Rollergirls to run this week. Call off the jam-- I'm clearly obsessed. Hey, how come no one ever says I look like the Joker? I totally do. I got Reese Witherspoon beat.

Also, I ate the guy from My Chemical Romance.

He tasted gay.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 23, 2006 2:02 PM

 

There she is...

I admit it. I was one of four (possibly five) lonesome freaks who actually watched the Miss America Pageant on Saturday. It wasn't easy, yo. First I had to scan the Comcast gauntlet in search of CMT, a channel I hope to avoid in the future. Then I had to steel myself for the festivities. I couldn't resist-- I've watched this pageant nearly every year since I was a little girl with a budding hard-on for sequins.

I can't understand where they find these chicks. They're all 21, but made up to look 35--no wonder I always assumed the contestants were "mommies" when I was little. They have immobile hair, and as Jonny succinctly put it, they look like they tan with goggles on. I know there must be communities that manufacture these young ladies at a clip, but they sure ain't north of the Mason-Dixon.

I don't feel particularly bloggy today. I woke up earlier than usual and took my stepdaughter to school. Turns out teachers still scare the living crap out of me. One of them looked like she was about to grab me by the scruff and haul me into detention! If I'm gonna get the stinkeye from authority figures, I might as well earn it next time and wing some bottle rockets into the girls' john.

"Candy Girl" got a glowing review in the New York Post this weekend. Yay! As Sparky from Bring it On might say, PREPARE FOR TOTAL DOMINATION. Or something.

My dreadlocks smell like head. Time for a shower.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 23, 2006 10:03 AM

 

Current mood: dope sick

I had two gigundo lattes at around 1:00 today (thanks for the freebies, Chris!) and I've been buzzing like a Gorilla amp ever since. Too much caffeine! Heart exploding!

Jon gave me a relaxo-pill to try and bring me down, but it's only filed the edge off marginally. In two hours, I plan to be enjoying a cocktail at the world's least-stressful karaoke venue. Hope that helps.

I recorded a hilariously bad rap/electroclash song on Garage Band yesterday. I'll post it soon. You can hear me rap about Foam Fucker II, Mel Torme, Star Jones, and X-scape Ultra Lounge. I'm proud of myself for figuring out the software, but ashamed of myself for creating such a dreadful piece of "art."

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 20, 2006 6:39 PM

 

Product Review- Black Cherry Vanilla Coke

I expected this to be an uninspired hybrid of Vanilla Coke and Cherry Coke. However, it has a surprisingly creamy taste that evokes Ye Olde Soda Fountaine, and the vanilla and cherry flavors blend seamlessly without vying for supremacy. Granted this is still Coke (TM)-- churned and bottled in an antiseptic facility where ribbons of corn syrup meander down steely chutes-- but it has charm.

The font used for the "Black Cherry Vanilla" on the label is very Taster's Choice and is clearly intended to brand this beverage as a nostalgic, romantic treat (as opposed to a hip elixer fortified with taurine). They're obviously not marketing this toward the skate ramp crowd. No, this Coke is for longtime colaphiles like myself who would probably try Pepperoni Coke if they dared to formulate it. I give Black Cherry Vanilla Coke a 6 on a scale of 1 to 10 (1 representing warm Sierra Mist, 10 being a chocolate Coke hand-stirred by a myopic old soda jerk named Frank.)

Let's say you had been close, very close, with Black Cherry Vanilla Coke as a teen. Then suddenly--like, now-- Black Cherry Vanilla Coke became visible. Suddenly, your schoolyard chum was appearing in refrigerated grocery cases everywhere. People were swigging it on the streets and deeming it palatable. Maybe it wasn't as popular as, say, a megabrand like Diet Coke, but BCVC had begun to acheive its longtime dream of being a working soda. Perhaps BCVC had a popular blog and maybe it had even written a movie. A movie! Wouldn't you try to contact BCVC through BCVC's MySpace page? Or are you a pussy? Does the way BCVC went about this whole thing make you queasy? Are you afraid that BCVC might go down too easy, is that it? Or am I still not cool enough?

All in all, a quality Coca-Cola product. Kudos to the Georgian overlords.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 18, 2006 9:30 AM

 

Maturity

Look, I got Angelina Jolie pregnant! My fertile saliva made it so. Watch and learn, all you primitive, mud-daubed fools who still copulate the Old Fashin't way...

We'd better practice safer sex from now on. This tissue-thin lambskin condy from Kuwait should do the trick! Angelina adores my life-giving spittle.

Uh-oh! Lindsay Lohan's here! And look who's a bottom! Take it like a man, Red! Right now we're listening to "Laffy Taffy" on my bumpin' system. And LiLo's all "This is my jam, girl! Give it to me hard like you did to your brother and that Chinese girl!"

NO! WHO INVITED THE CAPTAIN AND TENNILLE TO MY ORGY?

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 17, 2006 12:50 PM

 

New obsession

Rollergirls on A&E. I wanna be a Puta del Fuego!

Jonny and I are so going to the next MN Rollergirls bout. I'm going to scream like a groupie and shake my pompoms for those tough broads.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 12, 2006 3:04 PM

 

The James Frey controversy

So apparently, the guy who wrote "A Million Little Pieces" made up a lot of lurid shit to embellish the narrative. Now, I didn't read the book but my brother did, and he said he was really affected by Frey's crack-fuled tale of Excessively Capitalized Woe. If it was all fake, then Frey's a helluva faker.

All this talk about Frey's pants aflame has segued neatly into discussions about my book "Candy Girl." I appreciate the publicity-by-proxy. Now, very few people have doubted the veracity of my sex industry stories, mostly because I wrote them while I was still doing it and even encouraged readers of my blog to stop by Sex World and bang on the glass. (I can't blame anyone for being suspicious during the whole Belle De Jour identity boondoggle. Personally I think Belle's real!)

Now, here are parts of my book that were altered, in case anyone's curious:

My stage names I was probably being overly cautious, but somehow I felt safer altering my stage names ever so slightly. (However, "Bonbon" was real. Very real.)

Other people's stage names 80% of these girls are still hustling in Minneapolis-- I know, 'cause I've seen 'em. I can happily out myself, but it's not fair to out other ladies who are still trying to maintain a fantasy for their customers. So I assigned everyone a new fake name, usually very different than the one they actually use. I was especially cautious with the Dollhouse, because they hire such a small pool of girls.

Certain identifying details Lawsuit city, babies. I was careful when it came to describing the dancers. That said, I didn't protect the customers' identities at all. I put it all out there and it was exactly as I described it. My apologies, Cum Licker.

Also, I actually worked at Deja Vu for a while, quit and returned a couple of months later. For the book, I condensed those two employment periods into one cohesive tour of duty--it made the narrative much cleaner. The story I told on the original Pussy Ranch was a totally accurate, dangerously detailed account of my experiences, whereas the book is inherently tidier and more, well, legal. But it's real.

If I had decided to make shit up, I think the book would have been a lot more exciting. I would have definitely given myself a drug habit, preferably something glamorous. I would have had numerous lesbian affairs with other strippers, especially Sophia Simone at the Vu. I would have written in some really hairy fights between me and Jonny, and I would have claimed to have made $3,000 a night. I would have penned a more climactic ending, though people seem to love the ending in all its sensible dorkitude.

I've been told if I write a screenplay based on "Candy Girl," I'm encouraged to fictionalize it a bit to create a more structured cinematic plot. In other words, there will be muff-diving, kids. Oh yes. And maybe a gunfight.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 12, 2006 1:00 PM

 

Go Angelina!

My favorite celebrity has confirmed she's knocked up. Their kid is gonna be nuclear pretty.

God, I wish I was a pillowy-lipped humanitarian.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 11, 2006 3:21 PM

 

BWAH!

Thanks to repeated mentions of Foam Fucker II, I am now being bombarded with ads for sailboat financing on MySpace.

You fools! I like MACHO ASSHOLE SPEEDBOATS, not pathetic schooners catching the girly breeze! Plus, I don't need financing. I paid cash for FF 2. $50,000 Canadian, and they threw in the Degrassi cast for free.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 10, 2006 5:38 PM

 

MySpace is a full-time job.

Dang. Horny bitches be lactating all over my inbox! I barely have time to lap up the effusive love-colustrum that sprays forth from the engorged MySpace teat. But it is much appreciated. Especially people who were cool enough to buy the book and drop me a line about it. You guys rule.

I'm eating a burrito right now and I can't tell if it pleases me or disgusts me. I feel similarly ambivalent about grapefruit. Citrusy cornucopia of refreshing health or acidic gourd o' bile? Depends on the day.

Now, here's one thing I would change about MySpace: When you fill out your profile, there's a section simply titled "Children." You can select from six options:

I don't want kids (aka "There are better things I could do with my time, like becoming the co-executive producer of a hit UPN series, buying a cute place in Venice and hoovering crank out of Kate Hudson's quivering navel.")

Someday (aka "Someday." This is probably the safest, least-loaded reply available.)

Undecided (aka No.)

Love kids, but not for me. (aka I'm defensive.)

Proud parent. (aka My Kaitlynn is SO GIFTED! You should see the macaroni pile she made in Tactile Sensations Workshop yesterday. I bet you want to hear all about it!)

No answer. (aka who fcukin cares about kids i'm on myspace for poosy.)

Now, my issue with this question is that there aren't enough available answers. How come "Hate kids" isn't an option? Why must society's Gargamels remain sadly closeted? Also, not all parents are "proud" of ther progeny. "Ashamed Parent" should be an option, in case my mother decides to join MySpace. Actually "Ambivalent But Resigned Parent" should also be offered.

Also, there's no option for proud stepparents like me. I wasn't about to check "Proud Parent," because then people might think I'm a real mom, then subsequently infer that I'm a warm and unselfish person with an ample, nurturing bosom. Wrong, wrong, and wrong again! I've already bought several packs of wire hangers at Costco just so I can fling them at my cowering future children. Bring me the axe!

I know I overthink these things, but I despise being excluded.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 10, 2006 11:40 AM

 

By the way

I'm obviously not "single," despite what MySpace would have you believe. This is SO CONFUSING.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 9, 2006 10:36 AM

 

Sigh.

I've gone and started a MySpace page. I don't even know how to link to it. This whole networking/friendwank brand of blogging intimidates me greatly. But I'm trying to sell a book here.

I think this is it: Me whoring myself on MySpace.

I was sick all weekend. My nostrils are raw. My voice is cashed. But I've got a song in my heart!

That song? "Move, Bitch."

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 9, 2006 10:25 AM

 

Introducing Foam Fucker II!

Some of you assholes have been expressing doubt that I actually bought a boat. "Nonsense," you scoffed. "Cody can barely make the payment on her Corolla." Well, FUCK YOU! Here's photographic evidence of my awesome new toy.

Notice that Beyonce, Jenna Elfman and J-Lo are lactating excitedly on each other while I hoist a bottle of Veuve aloft in triumph. BOO-YAH! Also, notice the dead manatee in our wake-- Foam Fucker's engine is specially engineered to swiftly maim oncoming aquatic creatures, especially peaceful ones. EAT IT, SHAMU!

(Incidentally, this photo contains no Photoshopping. But if it did, the hypothetical Photoshopping would have to be accredited to Jonny, who is hypothetically a genius.)

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 6, 2006 5:46 PM

 

Insomnia

I have a melatonin surplus and sleep rarely eludes me. But tonight, I'm all wound up and wandering around like a zombie (Rob Zombie, to be precise.)

Here's Ernie. As you can see, he has an oblong head just like his Sesame Street namesake. He's a very good-natured beast and sleeps most of the time. I wanted to name him "L. Ron Cuddles" but Jonny said no.

That's a lot of hair on my head, huh? Melissa from Xtension Generation is awesomely patient and hecka skilled. Props!

*yawn*

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 5, 2006 12:32 AM

 

Suicide Girl

Check out an interview with me on Suicide Girls, if your firewall permits.

I really dig this piece because it's basically a verbatim transcript of the conversation the journalist and I had in a little Italian joint in NYC. We finished the interview with chilled shots of Lemoncello (thanks Sarah!) and it was a memorable afternoon.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 4, 2006 11:22 AM

 

Who's up for a weekend in Chicago?

I sure am. For some reason, I woke up missing the place like nobody's business.

Here are some specific things I miss about living in Chicago:

-Scribbling in my diary (the proto-blog) at Montrose Harbor while dogs and carefree urbanites cavorted on the beach. I always felt totally safe.

-The shitty tattoo place in Uptown where an exasperated gal crookedly pierced my clit with little regard for hygiene.

-Eating spanakopita at my neighborhood diner at 2:00 a.m.

-The junkyard dog on Diversey, who would always lunge at the fence when I passed his turf on my way to Target. He was so cute and he didn't realize it.

-The Thai girl who was always doing her homework when I'd arrive for my takeout noodles. She'd yell to her dad in the kitchen, and while he finished up my order, I'd grab a chair and feel like I was at someone's house.

-I know it's cliched, but I miss the chairs people put in their shoveled-out parking spots. Maybe because I didn't have a car.

-Alma, my favorite cashier at Jewel, who even got me a birthday card.

-The Quincy El stop. And that guy's voice. "Doors open on the left..."

-Swimming and working out at the community center in Lincoln Square. The equipment was old and busted and so were the patrons.

-The deck on my apartment. I went to Party City on Western and raided the luau aisle. Then I lugged my stuff home on the bus and decked the deck in an fantasy tiki theme. It was my favorite place to read tabloids and eat Popsicles. I felt like my own Shag painting.

-773-832-9047

-Pizza.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 4, 2006 9:27 AM

 

An Entry About Pussy

1. Last night, we went to the strippers and went and went and went. It's been way too long since foreign nipples touched these lips. The girls were worth every Hamilton. There is no way I am that soft, incidentally. My skin must feel like steel wool compared to those temptresses. I have never been so soft, nor so fragrant. I am not even a girl compared to them. Just a gawky, half-feral butch. I apologize to every schlub who ever paid me for a lap dance, because I am not that soft and not that good. My teeth did not glow like radium and my breasts didn't hum like traintracks.

2. We adopted a new cat to fill the George-shaped void. His name is Ernie and he is cute and gregarious, with comically full cheeks and a brown goatee. I've never met a more trusting animal; it's only Day 2 at his new house and he's happily sacked out on the couch, purring with a distinctive voiceless thooooo thooooo noise that's already been much imitated. Ernie has already discounted my theory that cats can't fart audibly; I picked him up this morning and he let one rip.

Foam Fucker II is back in the shop. Beyonce lactated all over the seats and they need to be reupholstered. That bitch needs to control her lesbo-milk reflex. I know I'm hot, but damn.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 3, 2006 11:42 PM

 

Happy New Year

To you and yours.

Don't break that diet too quick, now.

Posted by Diablo Cody at January 1, 2006 10:55 AM

 

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