Funny Strange....

So....many....words.....

In case you’re wondering, I’m still in the midst of my rewrite, and have ended up cutting and change so much, I have to add about another 2,000 words a day, which is just BRUTAL.  Also, I didn’t end up going to the White Trash party, so I don’t have any cool pictures of myself dressed up like Britney Spears. I’m just at the point where I can see the book turning into something and I think I’m about to get over the hump and start coasting down the hill, but damn! This project has taken more work than a) I originally thought, and b) the last one took, even though that one was longer. So, go figure. Maybe I’m growing as a person. Anyway, once I’m done writing for the day, the very last thing I want to do is write more. 

Yeah, so now you can see the reason why I've only been updating once a week.  Only eight more days left, though, so soon we'll be back to the multiple time per week funny.

Just to tide you over, I made you this list of "pervy songs about old rock guys who like teenage girls." 

So…what is it with rock songs about old guys who want to date young girls? I mean, we’re all adults, right? Eighteen is pretty young, so I don’t get the obsession with “jailbait.” Like—really, sixteen? Yikes!  That’s a bad R. Kelly!  What do they even have to talk about? 
 

Seriously though-- did you ever listen to one of those songs, and really hear the lyrics? I think if you take them out of their intended context, you will be able to see the funny that I see. 

Let’s start with Sam Cooke, who gives us the charmingly-titled “Only Sixteen”

She was only sixteen, only sixteen, oooh but I loved her so.
She was too young, too fall in love, and I was too young to know.

A great place to start.  This gets me thinking-- why do these aging rockers write these songs?  I know, I know, being in a rock band is all about being a pimple-faced geek who eventually gets rich and famous enough to go back and reclaim all the girls you couldn’t get in high school.  That's all well and good, but when you write a song about it, then I get to make fun of you on my blog. 

Gary Puckett and the Union Gap, “Young Girl.”

Young girl, get out of my mind. My love for you is way out of line, you better run, girl. You’re much too young, girl.

Take this guy at his word, man. He’s got a white van with the windows blacked out, and he’s missed his chemical castration shot. This is a scary message, wrapped up in a ballad. Actually, this is a song about a girl lying about being old enough to give you her love, but now you’re going to let her run back to her mama, because you found out she’s jailbait. 

 

Benny Mardones, “Into the Night”

This is a good song to sing along to if you’re driving along, all alone, and switching radio channels. Just don't listen too hard to the actual words.

She’s just sixteen years old, leave her alone, they say.

Well, “they” sound pretty smart, Benny. Maybe you should heed their sage advice.

Separated by fools | who don't know what love is yet

Oh boy 

but i want you to know
If i could fly
I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
and show you a love
like you've never seen - ever seen...

Yes, I know. This song is ruined for you now. How do you think I feel?

  I like singing in the car!

Bell

Biv Devoe, “Do Me” 
I actually used to really like them when I was in high school, and if you say you didn’t, that’s fine. It will just be our little secret. But….just so we make sure we have multiple genre represented, I have to point out that even the ex-New Edition guys want to get with some young girls, as evidenced by this clever combination:
 

Backstage, underage
Adolescent…how you doin? 

Wow. Just….wow. Can’t you just see the parachute pants and smell the Drakkar Noir?

 
Action took place….kinda like (come on) don’t forget

 I really appreciate the use of the passive voice here. Stephan would like it pointed out that by using the passive voice, these guys are really abdicating responsibility, like “Hey, action took place—out of my hands, nothing I could do about it.”

Oh, Fishballs.

Hey, do you know how much I absolutely LOVE rewriting?  (note sarcastic tone)
That's what I've been spending most (all) of my free time doing this week-- revising this Young Adult novel, so no posts, and frankly, no mood for funny.  I have a week-long, rewrite-induced headache.  You know what sucks?  Cutting your writing, dude.  Ouch!  But, guess what?  If you wrote something, maybe nine months ago, and now it doesn't go with the new plot you've developed?  Out!  Gone! 

So, that's what I've been doing, and no, I'm not done.  However, I have passed the painful "cutting" phase, have the structure in place, and now I just need to add the meat of the story back in, which is actually better than it sounds.  Next week includes a trip to San Francisco and promises to be much more lively. 

Here are some things I keep meaning to mention, so you can laugh even as I'm stuck in rewrite purgatory:

---Remember the 80's party from last year?  Well, this year's theme is "White Trash," and you know what?  I'm going as Britney Spears, even though that might be a little insensitive, given her current mental situation. 

---You know how I love writing about that person named Groovy Nipples?   I totally got an email the other day saying that, in case I didn't know, Groovy Nipples died recently.  Now, that is sad, and my condolences go out to their family.  R.I.P. Groovy, who I hope is now on the other side with a thorough sense of just how much pleasure I get out of telling the "Groovy Nipples" story at parties.  Am I going to stop telling that story now?  NO I AM NOT.  By the way, the only reason I know about Groovy's passing is because when you Google the phrase "Groovy Nipples," MY SITE COMES UP FIRST.  Outstanding.  Long live Groovy!

--In other, non-Groovy related news, I received an outstanding "This Guy" photo this week from a writing friend, but she REFUSES to let me post it so I can't share it with you.  Let me say this-- it's even BETTER because it involves this writing friend and a celebrity, and they're both drunk, and she's "This Guy'ing" him like there's no tomorrow.  See?  I can keep secrets.  But, let me say this-- if you send me a"This Guy" photo that includes a celebrity, you must expressly tell me if you don't want me to post it, because otherwise that sucker's going right up, lickety split.  I'm really sad that you can't see the new "This Guy," because it's pretty great.  It's in my screensaver now.

---Maybe, if you need some more funny, you should go to this link and look at the Weight Watchers Recipe cards, and especially the commentary.  And special thanks to Brandi for this!

OK, that was all the bloggy fun-time I had allocated for this week.  Now, I'm back to the rewrite salt mines. 

He's Just Like Everyone Else

This is one of those experiences that you mostly only have in New York or L.A., so I thought I would share it.  Maybe it will make you laugh, and then I can knock off early for the day, since that's my mission in life.

Wednesday night I was waiting for my car at a valet stand—the valet guy was asking me some question about my car, and then, out of the blue, Mel Gibson walked up beside us, because he needed his keys.

Here’s the thing—having grown up in Palm Springs and then spending the past eight years back and forth between NY and LA, I maintain a strict adherence to a policy I call "ignore celebrities."  I’m not an autograph seeker, I would never take a picture with my cellphone in a million years, and God forbid I would give one of them the satisfaction of going “hey man….you were really good in X.”   It’s not that I love celebrities so much—I just think hey, we’re all out here doing our thing, let’s live and let live, and let Mel Gibson pick up his car.  When I’m an internationally famous, bestselling author, I will expect the same courtesy from the citzens of Santa Monica.

Anyway, Mel Gibson  kind of smiled at me and gave me a head nod (maybe because I’m blonde, who knows?) , and we stood there for awhile in complete silence, me staring at my shoes. Then I started to get this weird vibe from him, though, like “How come you’re not reacting?  I’m MEL GIBSON.  From Braveheart?  You know?”  This made me start thinking about how weird his life must be, that he can’t go one place on earth without people totally knowing all about him, and how he got pulled over for DUI and then called one of the officers “Sugar Tits,” and how maybe he has a certain level of expectation now that people are going to talk to him, and if he doesn’t get that he thinks THAT’s weird.    I actually was spending so much energy considering this and actively ignoring him that finally I said to the valet guy “You know what, just give him his keys, and then let’s finish this discussion.”  And it wasn’t because I wanted Mel Gibson to get special treatment.  No, it was more like I wanted Mel Gibson to go away, so I could stop pretending he wasn’t there, and he could stop pretending that he knew I was pretending I didn’t know who he was, or whatever.  Now I’ve confused myself.

The bottom line is—I ignore celebrities, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, probably because it’s part of some “cool kids” club for people who live in New York or LA, like we’re too cool to even talk to them.  I LIKE it when Beyonce comes into my Starbucks, just so I can be like “So?  You think you’re better than me?  I get lattes here too, dude.”

This Guy: Celebrity Crazy Edition

Do you know about the Legend of This Guy?  Because if you don't, perhaps you should go back and read this post, or this one.  Then you will find this photo of Tom Cruise and his buddy Will Smith even funnier.

Or, on a totally different Tom Cruise note, you could go over to Defamer and watch this FREAKY video of him espousing the virtues of Scientology and saying "we have to do something" over and over again.   Look, I don't want to slander them because Scientology is a little too cult-y for me, but actually, I'm all for anything that makes people happier in their lives, and Scientology seems to work for some people, and that is great).   I personally wouldn't adhere to a religion created by a science fiction writer that involves dead aliens, but again, to each his own. 

Here's the thing, though:  I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE'S SAYING.  I mean, for a famous actor, Tom Cruise is a REALLY bad communicator.  I know he has dyslexia and that Scientology helped him learn to read and all (which, again, is great.  Great!), but dude!  I don't think it can just be chalked up to poor editing, and to the seemingly-endless Mission:  Impossible theme music loop in the background.  I keep listening for a point in what he's saying, and one never comes.  Like, what does he want us to DO with this information?   There really seems to be no call to action in this video, which frankly surprises me most of all because I consider Scientology to be one of the best-marketed religions on the planet. 

I Said Happaaayyyy....Birthddaaayyyyy!

Yes, it was my birthday over the weekend, and thank you for all the well-wishings and such.  Actually, if you tried to call me to sing happy birthday into my voicemail over the weekend, you might have noticed that on Friday and Saturday, at least, my phone did not work.  This was due mostly to the fact that I dropped it about a week ago and made it lose a piece that didn't look that important, until it started a slow deterioration that meant eventually it was still able to ring, but looked like this.

So, first order of birthday business:  get a new phone.  Apparently my birthday mojo was working for me, because I didn't have to wait at the Cingular store, and ended up with a super cool new red RAZR, which looks alot like the one pictured above, only not broken.  So, that was awesome.

Next stop on the birthday express:  manicure/ pedicure, with a latte and a People magazine.  This is the sort of thing I never do, because I'm like "waahhh....it's too much time....I'm too busy....I should be writing."  But, on my birthday, oh, hells no!  I am all about me and my spa massage chair. 

After that my friend invited me over so Maddie could sing me the toddler version of "Happy Birthday," and so they could give me what I think you'll agree is the greatest birthday decoration in the HISTORY OF TIME:  the Hip Hop/ Pimp Birthday Balloon.

Just in case you can't fully comprehend the magnificence of the giant silver balloon, let me also add that when you hit the bottom of it, it SINGS, dude.   Go ahead.  Play the song.

Download 01-14-08_1214.wav (206.3K)

Now, I don't know if that's the real guy from the Sugar Hill Gang singing in the balloon, but you must agree that this is a true masterpiece of tacky awesomeness, made even better by the fact that it was actually the display, and my friend knew I would love it so much that she forced the boy at the party supplies store to sell it to her.   "Give...me....that....BALLOON!"

I don't even want to tell you how many times I've slapped that balloon over the past two days, just to hear the song.  That would make me seem juvenile. 

NEXT, I had pizza and home-made cake, opened more presents, and got flowers.  What could be better?  Oh, at the end of the month I'm going to San Francisco to have another party, because I'm all Paris Hilton like that.

Just in Case....

Just in case you were meaning to buy my novel, Hollywood Car Wash, and you never got around to it, or it's next on your list for your book club, or you want to acquire it as a piece of historical Lori Culwell memorabilia, I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that the version of HCW that's currently for sale on Amazon is just about to not be available, because Simon & Schuster is doing a new edit of it, then re-releasing it in 2009.  It's going to be ALL NEW!   

So, this is just a friendly heads-up.  If you want to read it before 2009, GO OVER THERE AND BUY ONE RIGHT NOW.

No pressure, though.  Just wanted you to know.

Did You Know?

Hey, did you know that the singer Seal used to have lupus, but now it's in remission?  Yeah, it's how he got those scars on his face.  And, speaking of weird stuff on the face, those scar-spots that Morgan Freeman has?  That's a condition called dermatitis papulosa.  And also?  Speaking of scars?  Did you know that Sharon Stone has one on her neck, and that Catherine Zeta-Jones had a tracheotomy?

Um, yeah. You can learn ALOT of trivial crap when you're stewing about your re-write.  I have now changed the perspective on my latest novel (the teen/ YA book) three times, and think I've finally found the right one.  But-- the in between times, when it's not working, but you don't know what to do to make it work?

Brutal.  Surf the internet for random "I've always wondered about that" trivia brutal.   "Catch up on my FaceBook email" brutal.  "Clean my office" brutal.   I mean, I'm not saying that writing is as hard as, say, working in a coal mine, because we all know it's not, and I'm super grateful to even have people who are interested to read my stories, dude.  It IS hard, though, when you know you have a good story, but you can't figure out how to make it come out.   And because I try to always follow my father-in-law's Three Rules of Life (hold over your plate, read the directions, and don't force anything), I have to just wait it out until it starts flowing again.  OK, now I'm making writing sound like pooping, but you get the general idea. 

Remember the days BEFORE the internet?  How did I survive grad school and my Master's Thesis (which was about Dostoevsky, Strindberg, and the modern theater, in case you've got that on your "things you want to know about me" list) without the internet to console me during the lean times?   Now that I think back on it, I think I spent those pre-internet stewing moments reading John Grisham novels while I waited for my mind to solve the problem.

Because I think maybe you have some of these moments in your life, and because maybe you are like me and want to learn interesting things while you are stewing I will share this fascinating site with you:  http://www.skinema.com .  No, it's not a porn site, and yes, it is safe for work.  It's a compilation of celebrity skin conditions.  I don't know why I find this kind of stuff so interesting.  Maybe this site will interest you as well, if in fact you are in the middle of a big project, and suddenly find yourself wanting to acquire more information about the albino from the Da Vinci code, or track the progress of Nic Cage's male pattern baldness, or many, many other vitally important things that will serve you well later in your life.

This is Actually Pretty Accurate

What Breed of Dog Are You?

My Result: Scottish Terrier

No bones about it, you're an adventurous Scottish Terrier. Fearless, feisty, and always up for a challenge, you like having things your way. Some people might even label you stubborn or headstrong. But we know you're just ambitious and motivated. (Being misinterpreted is such a trial, isn't it?) Besides, your can-do attitude serves you well when facing challenges at work or in your personal life. No job is too big, and absolutely no obstacle is going to stand in your way. You're always ready, willing, and able to rise to the challenge. A loyal, caring friend, you choose your pals very carefully, then stick by them through thick and thin. Woof!

Take this test >

911? Really?

So, over the holidays I started seeing this sign "CALL 911 FOR DRUNK DRIVERS."  Granted, maybe I saw it more because I was driving around more during the holidays (like, transversing the length of the state of California to give out and receive presents, as well as eat dinner with everyone we know).  Now that I research it a little more, I come to find that the California Office of Traffic and Safety is doing a huge crackdown on drunk drivers, so they started really pushing this campaign during the month of December.  They even have this catchy little sign.  Nice, huh?

Now, here's the thing.  It's not like I'm all "pro drunk driver" or anything.  I mean, generally speaking I think drunk driving is a bad policy, and I've had a couple of friends who have really paid the price (and I do mean literally) for this, and will never do it again.  I have never done it, and Stephan and I have a strict "no drink when driving" policy. But.....911 for a drunk driver?  Seriously?  I have several issues with this.

For one thing, aren't enough people already calling 911-- for legitimate reasons, like because their HOUSE IS ON FIRE, or because they're CHOKING ON A SANDWICH, or HAVING A HEART ATTACK, or because a TIGER IS BITING THEM IN THE FACE?  Adding a bunch of cellphone-happy drivers reporting what they THINK might be drunk drivers (but honestly, who might just be idiots trying to text message while they're driving, causing them to weave through lanes of traffic) does NOT sound like a good idea to me.

How about this?  If you see a drunk driver, GET AWAY FROM THEM.  Clear the way for the CHP to catch them, because that's what they're there for, and let's leave the 911 lines open for things like TIGER ATTACKS, or things that really do belong in capital letters.  Again, I'm not saying that drunk driving isn't a serious crime.  I'm just saying there's only so much 911 to go around, and I don't think we should be using it all up on people "weaving and braking erratically," which is how the CA.GOV website is defining a "suspicious or drunk driver."  Also on this list?  "Following too close," which means I'm pretty much going to have to report every single person in the municipality of Los Angeles, dude.  People are bad drivers, and I don't believe all of them are drunk.  I mean, a guy seriously wove into my lane today in Malibu, and he didn't seem drunk-- just stupid.  What if I called 911 and had a police task force deployed to investigate this young and careless gentleman, only to take those officers away from an elderly person getting robbed?  THEN who's the asshole?  I'm just saying.   My mother always taught me that 911 was OFF LIMITS, only to be used in EMERGENCIES, which are things you might use capital letters for.

This got me thinking-- New York City has developed a very effective system for non-emergent things that you might still want to to report to the police.  They use 311, and it works like a charm.  Of course, this also brings up alot of questions, like I wonder how many years of crazy phonecalls they had to get before they were like "Um.....ma'am?  A man in your apartment building with a chicken is not a 911-- it's a 311," but that's beside the point.  My point, really, is that 911 is for emergencies, and while an actual drunk driver might be just that, people reporting what they THINK is a drunk driver is just going to deluge the 911 system with nonsense, thus rendering it totally useless.  Like, we should be grateful we HAVE 911, and not abuse it-- that's all I'm saying.    We just got past the whole "911 is a joke" era.  We don't want to set ourselves back as a society to the point where Flava Flav is going to feel the need to write some biting social commentary about us again, do we? 

That is all.

Well, Hello Again!

Yes, I was gone for a long time, and neglected the blog.  I know.  Look, I still can't believe Christmas break is over, ok?  Maybe I'm in denial.  After all, I'm still wearing my fat jeans (OK, I know, whatever my fat jeans are a size 4, and now people are going to start emailing me and calling me Karen Carpenter, blah blah blah).  I'm still trying to download all the pictures off of my camera and go through all the mail from when we were gone, but all in all, we had an AMAZING time in Carmel, saw many cool people, and one day, even stayed up until 4:30 am. 

If you know Cory and want to read about his 40th birthday, or if you just think a photo-essay called "The Legend of Butterscotch" which features a drunk horse might be funny, then maybe you should click here and look at the pictures.      I do have several funny blog posts I'm a'cookin up for 2008, but right now I'm re-organizing, re-writing, and generally re-thinking my "sugar at every meal" habit.

Resolutions?  I'm going to try to think more positively in 2008, write at least 1,000 words a day in addition to this blog, do some sit-ups, and drink more water.  Anyone else?