March 2007

Poetry

"I EAT PUSSY FOREVER (BREATHE THRU MY EARS)" - Craigslist post title

I seriously think that's beautiful. I'm not even being a snot.

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 21, 2007 10:25 PM

Back to Black

I'm back in Minneapolis for the moment, reunited with my attractive huz'bin but pining for the circus. On a cheerful note, America's Next Top Model is on tonight! I'll have to drag a second couch into the basement to accomodate my donut-augmented ass and irrevocably bloated ego.

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 21, 2007 3:57 PM

AWW YEAH!

Call it the luck o' the semi-Irish...I snared me a hot slab of Daniel Clark last night! Yes, I'm a licentious CIT (cougar-in-training), trolling the hotel bar for Degrassi action. Love it!

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 18, 2007 1:50 PM

Barnabas Greengrass

Hanging out with producers in Vancouver has inspired the Beebs to adopt a more polished look.

(Barnabas's wardrobe kindly furnished by Little Lily.)

I have too many photos (blurred by trembling hands) stories (obsessively filed) and gee-whiz anecdotes (abandoned mental hospital + movie stars= one hell of a day) to share at this time. Know this: I have grown fat off the donuts at craft services; they have this particular glaze that cracks and spiderwebs like elderly paint. No amount of conscientously-consumed "Coke Diete" can mitigate the effects of these donuts. I'm like a sunflower for these sugary bitches; I sense their arrival and instictively turn toward their warmth. Deez 'nutz got me sprung, yo.

Tonight, I will be locked in a mall with Page, Garner, Thirlby and the usual gang until 6:30 a.m. I'm intrigued by the realization that if I wuss out and fall asleep on a bench in front of L'Arbys, I will--improbably--wake up to something weirder than a dream.

P.S. On Sunday, Daniel "Original Degrassi Gangsta" Clark is coming here to film a scene! This will be the first Degrassi kid I've actually met in person (though I do have a cherished letter from Stacey Farber that I guard more closely than the ruins of my hymen.) I actually had my flight rescheduled so I could stalk meet him. My nipples are already hard. Now I can find out for myself how much he truly resembles Ernie.

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 15, 2007 8:43 PM

Candy Review: Chocolate-Covered Sugar Babies

When it comes to foodstuffs, I can never resist a point-of-purchase display crowing "LIMITED EDITION!" Fuck, I'd probably buy Clamato if they threatened to discontinue it. And longtime readers know how I feel about the McRib (answer: fondly, almost sexually.) Time-sensitive candy is especially tempting because confectioners tend to mean it when they say "limited edition." Unlike the McRib-- which springs eternal just like Christ, hope, and rotavirus-- candy has a tendency to disappear forever.

So of course, I had to buy these (Limited Edition!) Chocolate Sugar Babies. I was just at the convenience store, buying Saltines and Mr. Pure for my queasy, couchridden stepchild. As I approached the register, I saw the Sugar Babies sitting on a shelf below a display of Africa-themed phone cards. They've been there for at least two months, and every time I seem them I get a glycemic boner. It was time.

I've always been a fan of original Sugar Babies. I admire their simplicity; they exist for those of us who are connoisseurs of sugar alone. They're pure, sweet, carmelized goodness encased in a slightly crunchy hull. Plus, they don't cling to my molars like Milk Duds (which I also love, mind you, but I'm trying to give exclusive props to the Babies right now.) The packaging of Sugar Babies is stunning: red Nagel-esque wingdings floating in a sea of canary-yellow, and of course, the red lettering that looks like it belongs in a Marx Brothers credit sequence. The matte texture of the bag provides superior handfeel. Long story short, I love Sugar Babies like normal women love regular babies.

(The Chocolate Sugar Babies come in a theater-size box. It's brown, appropriately, and not as cute as the classic yellow bag. Doesn't matter though, since you know this shit's gonna last about as long as those milkshake-flavored Kit-Kats. Incidentally, I hated those.)

On to the taste: It's hard to assess these fairly, as they're extremely stale and about as hard as musket shot. The chocolate is ashen, like an Easter basket stash rediscovered the following July. The Baby maintains its integrity, but the chocolate is distracting. It's sort of like how Anne Hathaway keeps wearing fussy dresses and dark lipstick to awards shows even though her hair and tits could easily carry the day. That didn't stop me from eating 3/4 of the box, though. (The candy, not Anne Hathaway.)

All in all, the adventure was worth the $1.29. In conclusion, I feel that...

...Wait. I just wrote more about Sugar Babies than I've written about my actual life in the past few months. I neglected to mention that I'm now renting an adorable palm-shaded cottage in Hancock Park, or that I'm going back to Vancouver on Sunday, but I took the time to comment on the texture of a Sugar Babies bag. Makes perfect sense.

P.S. I had to retire the awesome '80s hair after only two tubular weeks. Here's why: Last night I decided I was horny and began pawing Jonny, who was already snoring on his side of the bed. (I'm not much of a cuddler.) But instead of taking the bait, Jonny mumbled "So how long are you going to have those extensions?" Translation: "I don't want to fuck you with that Weird Al weave." I scowled a little, jacked off and went to sleep. This morning, Jonny claimed that he was just tired and that the extensions remark had nothing to do with his reluctance to get freaky. I took out the hair today just in case. Now I'm stuck with a disheveled bi-level indie-rock mop, but at least I'll get laid again. Maybe.

P.P.S. America's Next Top Model viewers: I'm on Team Brittany. Who's with me?

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 8, 2007 11:59 AM

Shenanigans in the basement

Check out the latest episode of Chasing Windmills, guest starring me and my bad hair (as a hippie pole-dancing instructor) and Jonny (as my "skeevy husband.")

My acting is, as always, atrocious. Even my ad-libs sound memorized, which is quite a feat. Also, U-G-L-Y, I ain't got no alibi. But I couldn't resist the opportunity to hang with these kids.

(The episode is featured on the homepage today, but if you caught this late and need to search, it's titled "Method Stripping.")

Now, off to Google "speaking lessons," "chin lipo" and "ass transplant minneapolis."

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 8, 2007 11:27 AM

FIRST.

I have rarely been a trendsetter. Therefore, I am making a concerted effort to start a trend-- or in this case, revive a trend that many hoped (and prayed) had breathed its last in the early '90s.

That's right. I'm bringing back mall hair.

It all started when I realized that my new, curly hair extensions resemble an old-skool spiral perm. (My straight roots even contribute to that unmistakable "grown out" look.) Jonny sarcastically suggested that I fashion "claw bangs" to match my Tawny Kitaen 'do. Inspired, I ran upstairs and plugged in the curling iron. Hair shenanigans are the ultimate cure for blizzard-induced cabin fever!

Now I just have to wait for it to catch on. It's hot, right?

Posted by Diablo Cody at March 2, 2007 7:52 PM

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