Sunday, December 31, 2006

go SHAMU, go!!

well, it's about damn time!
this is old news, but kasatka the killer whale, or as she's affectionately known by her 'adoring' fans at sea world, shamu, has spoken up! or shall we say down--and it wasn't in the gruff, deep-toned voice one would expect a killer whale to possess. it was in one swift, simple act of pushing her trainer to the bottom of the tank, nearly drowning him. see the headline below with a bit of a comic twist (sorry for the manual click--youtube is shady today):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vz8AuKmItwM

and this wouldn't be the effing truth if i didn't open my big mouth to voice some loud ass, clever opinion on the matter. you know what i say about all this? good for the friggin trainer--he, as well as the rest of the sea world crew, had it coming. the only tragedy here is that nobody learned a real lesson...he survived. i can't say much more about kasatka.
as david letterman said, it IS a killer whale, for heaven's sake--you have to admit it--it's way fucked up to remove an animal from it's natural habitat, stick it in a cage, and make it do tricks. and the ignotards out there can't use the whole meat argument either (i.e. "that's what they're here for.") either. if you depend on a tiger to provide viable entertainment for you, you're a sad, fucked up individual who should promptly return to your trailer.
it's just like when roy, of the eponymous siegfried & roy circus mess, was mauled by a tiger during a performance. good for the fucker! after years of being beaten and stuck with electric prods, forced to do ridiculous tricks, it's a wonder the tiger hadn't stepped up sooner!
when questioned about motives after the incident, roy referred to the tiger, named montecore, as his baby and friend. now, i ask you--who in gay hell steals their friends from the wild?! some of my friends act like wild animals, but i assure you they came from legitimate nurseries.
fortunately for him, liberace's protege has some pretty heavy recovery time ahead of him--plenty of time to consider more humane, sensible ways to entertain people. unfortunately, most of the world felt sorry for him.

what do these incidents say about our culture? that despite boasting some of the most technologically advanced educational institutions, fostering children to be so intellectually competitive, they'll fight to the death to win a spelling bee, and taking note of the increase in college graduates, we still get off on watching elephants balance on balls and tigers dance around in toutous? what's even sadder is that, according to the national humane society, the number of tigers living in captivity in this grand nation of ours is roughly equivalent to all the tigers living in the wild. i suppose the same goes for elephants, lions, and other wild beasts subjected to the involuntary perils of a life in the bondage of 'show business.' and if the sum of these attacks don't hint around to something, maybe this little factoid from the humane society can make it a bit clearer: in the past five years, nine people have been killed by tigers in the united states. nine people--and tigers aren't even indigenous to the u.s.! get the fucking picture--wild animals belong in the wild. if they kill you there, it's because you've invaded their home. once you bring them into yours, it's your own damn fault if your fat ass liver provides a tasty foie gras to them.

new year's resolutions:
  1. adopt a dog (and by adopt, i don't mean fund puppy mills by giving money to a pet store for a dog--i mean adopt a perfectly fabulous friend from the s.p.c.a. and save a life)
  2. shoot circus trainers
  3. make five people give up veal (hey--if you want to ingest antibiotics and growth hormones, just go to the david barton gym)
peace out, cub scout.

Monday, December 25, 2006

diaz day


i wish today were cameron diaz's real birthday. it's actually august 30th, but i don't know that because i'm some obsessed fan--i just imdb'd it. and i'm not just saying all this because it's Christmas eve, either.
i just need to say that cameron diaz is really amazing. i feel that she's the only celeb (and by celeb, i'm simply referring to the term cam has been such with by society, as well as us weekly) who's the real deal. i have a feeling i'm going to be repeating that term quite frequently throughout my little 'festo.
but i digress.
i think she's my favorite well-known person. there, that's better. she's the only one who seems really real--ya know what i mean? she doesn't stick her ass in every camera lens that comes her way, a la paris, and i think she's one of the few great actresses that actually still consider their trade a job. cameron wakes up, makes a movie, eats dinner, and goes to bed. she's normal.
but more than that, she's cool. i really think we're destined to be great friends. one day i'm going to meet her at some function, and something really cliche is going to happen. i'll trip over her leg or something. and she'll say, "oh, i'm sorry!" and notice a certain accessory i'll no doubt be wearing--like suspenders--and say, "great suspenders, though!" or maybe she'll take note of my daring rat tail. "is that rat tail?" she'll inquire, to which i'll gleefully respond, "it sure is! let's have a drink and toast to rat tails!" and she'll say, "it's on!"
and from that point cam and i will be awesome friends. she'll come over and we'll do facials and watch my golden girls dvds.
but let's talk about her more. she's the real deal. and she's got such great style that i honestly feel is inherent. i wouldn't at all be surprised to find out she doesn't have a stylist. i feel like she has her own eye for incredible fashion, and poo pooh's the idea of allowing someone else's ideals to eclipse her own unique perspectives. have you ever seen cameron diaz on a worst-dressed list? and if so, it was probably because the stupid magazine running it ran out of space on the best-dressed list. like, if she decided to wear a black number with netting and some underlying crinoline that, no doubt, looked incred, they'd condemn her for trying to be goth or something. it's like, "hello people--she's cameron diaz. she knows what she's doing. and black looks good on everybody, so go to your macy*s sale and shut up."

i also think she'd be really fun to go discount shopping with. making an entire day of random stops to marshall's, tj maxx, etc. and raid the home sections for odd vases, knick-knacks and discontinued flatware with holiday handles. we could host odd little dinner parties and invite people we've always wanted to know, like catherine zeta jones (another real deal) and miuccia prada.

and even though this little manifesto sort of makes me borderline weirdo, i think if cam were to read it, she'd say, "this kid is the real deal too. let's totes get togeth!" and when we go out, she'd be totally crazy--but the good kind of crazy. like the kind that gets sloshed (because you can tell she's a funny drunk--like moi) really early in the night so by the time you get home, you're all better and you can wake up at 11 and meet for brunch and spend the day reading magazines and shopping for fun body exfoliants. maybe she'd even join me on my crusade for the homeless!

but anywho--today is cameron diaz day, but instead of going out to buy some rotten tabloid and read about her that way, don a blond wig, go out on the town, and party like the real cameron!

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

i'm funny


that's right. i'm really f-ing funny. i realized i was super funny a few minutes ago when, as usual, i was laughing at one of my own jokes, and i caught my reflection in a mirror (one of the many i keep near my desk). what i saw didn't really surprise me--pure and utter glee! i wasn't only laughing at my own joke to imbue others to follow suit--i was really enjoying it! i'm super funny.

you know what really grinds my gears? even more than the eternity pharmacists take to fill ambien prescriptions? the fact that it's easier to regenerate a limb than to get a doctor's appointment within a year. my sinuses have been hosting their own rager for the past three weeks, and my LAX-->JFK flight the other night was the icing on the cake...the spray on the hair...the blood on the windshield. my genetic predisposition to bad sinuses provided me with the most excruciating pain that lasted the entire time we were above 100 feet...5 horrifying hours. 5 hours of pressure, throbbing pain, and viscous blood chunks falling out of my nose, that helped me to conclude that i need to see a doctor again so i can get those glorious instruments shoved up my anesthetized nose and free me from the bondage of chronic sinusitis! they just better be wary of my deviated septum...the last thing i want to lose is my endearing snort.
but i digress. so i called the doctor, stated my em-urgency (good one, right?!) and the bitch says, "the doctor can't see you until next......wednesday." wednesday. WEDNESDAY?! hello, did i leave out the part where i'm in pain and dying? and is it not evident that the sinuses, located directly behind the nose, just happen to lurk around the corner from the brain? what if the drama spreads? i'll get meningitis! or encephalitis! i could die of a swollen head, and won't THAT look good plastered on the cover of US Weekly. i mean, really.
nevertheless, i still didn't get a fuckin appointment, so i'm going home tonight to do a little irrigation. i hope the blood doesn't stain my sink.

on a lighter note, i'm totally back! i promise to be faithful to at least every-other-day postings. even if they're stupid, arbitrary postings, like the dedication to evita. especially since i can access le blog via my blackberry. a day without bryan is no day at all.

so let's talk LA. i had the most incred weekend in the city of angels. i shot my fashion piece on silent film. i'm not sure if my favorite part was the army of rolling muscle and carefully coiffed hair, otherwise known as the male models, or the fact that every shot was worth $100K. either way, what bliss! speaking of--if anybody needs a gift idea for moi, check out www.blissspa.com. if the words 'lowfat,' 'deep,' or 'detox' are involved, it's a pretty safe bet i'll covet it!
back to LA. so we shot with a certain photographer whose working reputation, shall we say, precedes him, but i'll definitely say that he was the most incredible, visionary, talented person i've ever worked with. and if you know how to take a good joke (and i do) he's a total plesh to work with. the big secret will be revealed in the feb/mar hollywood issue of blackbook.

so i'll be back in the valley as of this friday, and staying for the week, so if you're interested in watching trash, crashing gertrude hawk post-holiday liquidation sales, and feeding my inevitable-to-develop gambling addiction, hit a brother up. i'll be there.
i imagine by wednesday i'll be climbing the walls to get out, as my i-miss-ny psychosis sets in. no matter how cozy a refuge the valley affords me, more than four days of no traffic, double negatives, smoking sections and 2am closing times can drive this boy to near-insanity.

and with that, he was gone!

Saturday, December 16, 2006

on break!!

Ok so I'm posting this bitch from LA on 'business,' if you can call a weekend spent in and out of photo studios and on windy beaches in malibu a business trip.
But, alas, at the end of the day it is.
More later.