"I wanna be cool, tall, vulnerable and luscious - I would have it all if I only had this much..."
-Liz Phair
BOOK REVIEW of Mr. Show - What Happened?
By Jessica Delfino
It's good. Get it.
Monday, July 28, 2003
Are you guys ready to folk rock?
Give a listen, I'm a fucking outlaw's daughter.
www.mp3.com/Jess_Delfino_
Give a listen, I'm a fucking outlaw's daughter.
www.mp3.com/Jess_Delfino_
Friday, July 25, 2003
Mob #5 - J.D. Wuz There
by Jessica Delfino
Flash Mob # 5 came and went yesterday, and I still don't really get it. We had to meet uptown on the Upper West Side, my least favorite part of Manhattan. We were given instructions that said we should walk to Central Park, and enter between 80th and 81st sts. The instructions were a bit more detailed than they've been in the past, and I was wondering if I can start to expect Flash Mob to start getting hard or something. Then it will be aloof and a pain in the ass - a great combination for success, seriously. Who doesn't love an asshole guy who will never love you back or a hot bitchy chick?
These were the directions to the site: Enter between 80th and 81st st, across from the museum. Make your first hard left, merge with another path, then turn left again. Walk to the right in front of the ridge and face CPW.
If there hadn't been a mob of people leading the way, I wouldn't have known where to go. Luckily for me, there was a mob of people leading the way.
If I had to give Flash Mob #5 a theme, I would say the theme was "hard[er than previous mobs before this one] work relating to nature or something." At 7:18, we were to stare straight forward and make very little noise, except for an occasional realistic bird call. At 7:21, we were allowed to make any bird call, realistic or otherwise. At 7:23, we could also mumble the phrase, "bird noise" and by 7:25, we could call out, "Nature Here! Come get some nature!" Then, finally, at 7:26, we were asked to chant, "Na-ture!" for twenty seconds, cheer, and then beat it.
Also, there were instructions asking us to please not take photographs at the mob site until 7:23, and to please not interview anyone until 7:26. I went with my friend David (see his account of Mob #5 at ) and he brought his video camera so that I could tape the mob if I wanted. When he read the instructions, he wouldn't let me video tape, even though there were so many other people there taking photos, taping, etc., including Channel 4, NY1, and some random ham radio operators or whatever.
We ended up getting into a little bitch match when I said, "Dude, just let me use your camera," and he was like, "No, it says not to on the slip." And I was like, "Fuck the slip, I wanna tape this shit." And he was like, "No, I'm not going to contribute to what the slip says not to do." And I was like, "Stop being a pussy," and he was like, "No, and don't ask me again."
It really pisses me off when people say things like, "No, and don't ask me again," or "End of discussion," or "Case closed," or other annoying cliches referring to them winning the argument whether they've actually won it or not. It's such a power trip move and it makes me feel like punching people and things. But later on in the park, we made up after I said, "We should smoke a joint," and he said, "No thanks," and I said, "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to Ludmilla (his friend who was with us) and those other people over there," as I pointed to two random gents. We all laughed and laughed, and ran home to write all about Mob 5 on our respective blogs.
Interestingly, as we walked the "na-ture" trail, we saw not one but two big fat rats snacking on berries or tortilla crumbs or whatever. Thanks for bringing me together with nature, Mob #5.
Later today, David and I discussed the specific "No means no" comment and David said that he was recording the sounds of the blog (with the audio off) on his camera and hadn't wanted our argument to be recorded. I thought that would have been funny.
To hear the audio version of Mob #5, see . I wish you could make out the argument we were having. It was meaningful to neither of us.
He wears slacks, I wear blue jeans, you know? He wears glasses because he's partially blind in one or both eyes, I'm not blind and I am more creative and in general a better person. We're just very different people.
This blog entry has turned more into a story about David and my friendship and less about Mob 5. Tune in to my next account of the next mob, where I start to talk about mob and end up telling you another sad story about one time how I was mistreated. By the way, it didn't say anything on the slip about where or when the next mob would be, like last time, so you'll just have to count on friends or enemies to tell you. I guess they want to try to keep it on the down under because it's getting too much attention and publicity and that is not what mob is about - It's about a bunch of people being in the same place at the same time for like, 8 minutes. And also nature - this time.
7Q's - NY
Were you at Mob # 5? If you were there, or even if you weren't but you're good at pretending, answer any 7 of the following mob-related questions and send your answers back to me. (Pretend you're still at Mob #5 while you're answering them.) Please send your replies to jessdelfino@yahoo.com. Also, include your first name (real or pretend) and your age (pretend only, please.)
Do your parents know you're here?
What's it like being Italian?
Do you ever fear for your life?
Do you love to watch the Sopranos?
Who's your favorite character on Sopranos?
Have you ever been to jail for a crime you "didn't" commit?
If the mob started trampeding, do you think you'd be one of the survivors?
Have you ever been to a running of the bulls?
Is this an attempt to quell your fear of crowds?
Would you say you tend to stand out in crowds?
Do you like that line in Kid Rock's song where he talks about crowds?
Have you ever seen Married To The Mob?
Do you like being told what to do?
Have you ever asked someone to stop telling you what to do?
What group or movement were you representing at mob?
Do you feel like the world owes you something?
by Jessica Delfino
Flash Mob # 5 came and went yesterday, and I still don't really get it. We had to meet uptown on the Upper West Side, my least favorite part of Manhattan. We were given instructions that said we should walk to Central Park, and enter between 80th and 81st sts. The instructions were a bit more detailed than they've been in the past, and I was wondering if I can start to expect Flash Mob to start getting hard or something. Then it will be aloof and a pain in the ass - a great combination for success, seriously. Who doesn't love an asshole guy who will never love you back or a hot bitchy chick?
These were the directions to the site: Enter between 80th and 81st st, across from the museum. Make your first hard left, merge with another path, then turn left again. Walk to the right in front of the ridge and face CPW.
If there hadn't been a mob of people leading the way, I wouldn't have known where to go. Luckily for me, there was a mob of people leading the way.
If I had to give Flash Mob #5 a theme, I would say the theme was "hard[er than previous mobs before this one] work relating to nature or something." At 7:18, we were to stare straight forward and make very little noise, except for an occasional realistic bird call. At 7:21, we were allowed to make any bird call, realistic or otherwise. At 7:23, we could also mumble the phrase, "bird noise" and by 7:25, we could call out, "Nature Here! Come get some nature!" Then, finally, at 7:26, we were asked to chant, "Na-ture!" for twenty seconds, cheer, and then beat it.
Also, there were instructions asking us to please not take photographs at the mob site until 7:23, and to please not interview anyone until 7:26. I went with my friend David (see his account of Mob #5 at ) and he brought his video camera so that I could tape the mob if I wanted. When he read the instructions, he wouldn't let me video tape, even though there were so many other people there taking photos, taping, etc., including Channel 4, NY1, and some random ham radio operators or whatever.
We ended up getting into a little bitch match when I said, "Dude, just let me use your camera," and he was like, "No, it says not to on the slip." And I was like, "Fuck the slip, I wanna tape this shit." And he was like, "No, I'm not going to contribute to what the slip says not to do." And I was like, "Stop being a pussy," and he was like, "No, and don't ask me again."
It really pisses me off when people say things like, "No, and don't ask me again," or "End of discussion," or "Case closed," or other annoying cliches referring to them winning the argument whether they've actually won it or not. It's such a power trip move and it makes me feel like punching people and things. But later on in the park, we made up after I said, "We should smoke a joint," and he said, "No thanks," and I said, "I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to Ludmilla (his friend who was with us) and those other people over there," as I pointed to two random gents. We all laughed and laughed, and ran home to write all about Mob 5 on our respective blogs.
Interestingly, as we walked the "na-ture" trail, we saw not one but two big fat rats snacking on berries or tortilla crumbs or whatever. Thanks for bringing me together with nature, Mob #5.
Later today, David and I discussed the specific "No means no" comment and David said that he was recording the sounds of the blog (with the audio off) on his camera and hadn't wanted our argument to be recorded. I thought that would have been funny.
To hear the audio version of Mob #5, see . I wish you could make out the argument we were having. It was meaningful to neither of us.
He wears slacks, I wear blue jeans, you know? He wears glasses because he's partially blind in one or both eyes, I'm not blind and I am more creative and in general a better person. We're just very different people.
This blog entry has turned more into a story about David and my friendship and less about Mob 5. Tune in to my next account of the next mob, where I start to talk about mob and end up telling you another sad story about one time how I was mistreated. By the way, it didn't say anything on the slip about where or when the next mob would be, like last time, so you'll just have to count on friends or enemies to tell you. I guess they want to try to keep it on the down under because it's getting too much attention and publicity and that is not what mob is about - It's about a bunch of people being in the same place at the same time for like, 8 minutes. And also nature - this time.
7Q's - NY
Were you at Mob # 5? If you were there, or even if you weren't but you're good at pretending, answer any 7 of the following mob-related questions and send your answers back to me. (Pretend you're still at Mob #5 while you're answering them.) Please send your replies to jessdelfino@yahoo.com. Also, include your first name (real or pretend) and your age (pretend only, please.)
Do your parents know you're here?
What's it like being Italian?
Do you ever fear for your life?
Do you love to watch the Sopranos?
Who's your favorite character on Sopranos?
Have you ever been to jail for a crime you "didn't" commit?
If the mob started trampeding, do you think you'd be one of the survivors?
Have you ever been to a running of the bulls?
Is this an attempt to quell your fear of crowds?
Would you say you tend to stand out in crowds?
Do you like that line in Kid Rock's song where he talks about crowds?
Have you ever seen Married To The Mob?
Do you like being told what to do?
Have you ever asked someone to stop telling you what to do?
What group or movement were you representing at mob?
Do you feel like the world owes you something?
Friday, July 18, 2003
One Of Those New York Mobs
By Jessica Delfino
Flashmob 4 was on Wednesday, July 16. I went with my friend David.
Q. What is Flashmob?
Good Question. It's hard to explain, because I don't really get it. I guess it's a like party in a public place that only lasts for about half an hour from beginning to end, and there are instructions you are supposed to follow.
Q. Can you give me a more specific explanation where you aren't jerking yourself off while explaining?
Hm. It all started with an e-mail. David forwarded me an invitation to Flashmobs 1 and 2, which at the time I think were just referred to as the Mob. It was the third or fourth e-mail I had seen regarding it, and all the people who had e-mailed me about it were huge dorks, so I figured it couldn't possibly be that good or they wouldn't be involved. It's totally fine for me to say that, I know all about dorks. I have been a nerdy boy trapped in a pretty girl's body my whole life. I guess I should have bit on this right away, being a nerd myself, but just because I'm a nerd doesn't mean I should have to want to hang out with other nerds. Also, I'm so full of nerdy awkwardness, I'm probably even a step behind the nerds when it comes to being cool. I deleted the e-mails and didn't even think about it again, until one day I was at David's and he said he was going to Flashmob, and asked me if I wanted to go. I said no. He said, you should really go, it's a lot of fun. Again, I said no. I'm afraid of mobs, The mob, the word mob creeps me out, ever since I had a bad LSD trip at a Phish show in Worcester I don't like crowds, and it just all around didn't sound like my kind of get together. But I went anyway, because David kept saying things about it that made it seem kind of interesting, like it was going to be a New York adventure. What really won me over was when he said that it was the kind of thing he moved to New York for, thinking there'd be more things like it, and maybe there used to be more things like it, but there isn't really any more. I'm ad libbing.
We went to Radio Shack and he bought a digital camera, because his friend in San Francisco wanted him to take photos and send them to him. I don't know his friend, I think his name is Sean. Anyway, David gives him credit for coining the term "Flashmob." Steve has some kind of interest in it. I believe he has stories and links about it as well. So, David and I went to FM3 and took a bunch of pictures. We took a taxi to Grand Central, where we had to look for a person reading a copy of the New York Review of Books or something like that. When we found him, we had to flash a dollar bill at him with the word MOB written on it. Then, he gave us a slip that said to leave Grand Central and go to the Marriott Hotel across the street, or maybe it was the Hyatt, I can't remember. It gave very specific directions about what time to get there. Once there, we had to go up and stand around the second floor railing and applause for 15 seconds. We then had to immediately disperse.
I did it, but I don't know how good I felt about it. I couldn't help but feel like someone was playing a joke on me. I left and didn't think much about it until David and three or four other nerds sent me another e-mail. I read it and again deleted it, saying to myself, "I'm not going," and then rewarding myself for taking a stand against the "cool dorks" with some cake.
Again, I'm at David's and once again, he asks if I'd like to go to Flashmob 4. Again, I say no. This time, I sort of can't because I have someplace else to be and I don't want to go hang out with a bunch of nerds or whatever. Then David says he's going to buy a video camera. Well. I got very excited about that because I'd been trying to get him to buy a video camera for awhile, for selfish reasons. David had to buy a new camera anyway because in a matter of days, he'd lost the oh-so-sleek and elegant little 400 or so dollar still camera that he'd bought for Flashmob 3. We went over to B&H and David bought a nice digital video camera, and took a taxi downtown to FM4. We had to meet at a bar off Houston and go to the back to get instructions. The whole place was full of people, and I noticed a girl with a New York Post steno pad. I had a feeling this was going to be a bit insane.
The directions we were given told us to go to Otto Tootsie Plohound, the shoe store on LaFayette. We had to go in and look at the shoes as if they were from outer space. Then, we had to call a friend and say, "Guess where I am?" Then, we could say, "In a Soho shoe store!" or "At one of those New York mobs."
We walked over and the streets were already crowded with people, lining the streets, waiting until 7:16 or whenever, to go traipsing into this poor guy's livelihood and trample all over it. I couldn't help but feel a little bit bad, but my curiosity propelled me in. One minute early, the swarm of people littering the streets started flowing into the store. I fell into the mix, and got inside somewhere towards the end of the crowd. The guy who owned the store started shitting his pants, just as I'd expected. He closed the doors and was said, "No more people!" just as David was walking towards the store with his camera. The media was all over it. Outside the doors, photographers flashes were a flashing, journalists were a journaling, and reporters were a reporting. It was a little bit surreal, because I don't even know exactly what they were going to say about it, much like I didn't know what I was going to say about FM when I sat down to write this.
I guess it does deserve attention. I go to comedy and music shows every week where there are four people in the audience, and the people who produce those shows bust their asses to get those four people in there. These spontaneous freak shows, dork parades, what have you, seem to double in size with each gathering. How do they get so many people to go and do nothing? Maybe nothing is the key element to success, as we've seen in Seinfeld's tv show and George Bush's brain.
I don't know what I'm doing at FM or even why or how I get there usually, but at the end, I feel like I am the butt of a huge joke. The best part of this joke though, if it is in fact, a joke, is that all the coolest people I know are starting to show up at flashmob. I feel like I'm learning all over again what I already learned in high school. At some point, all cliques merge, and when they do, sometimes there are shoes involved.
See the video we made of Flashmob 4 at my friend David's website:
http://www.creamy.com/blog/2003_07_01_archive.html#105851260878254205
The video has been getting a lot of attention, but I don't know why.
While you're at it, peruse my friend David's website and read his blog at www.creamy.com
By Jessica Delfino
Flashmob 4 was on Wednesday, July 16. I went with my friend David.
Q. What is Flashmob?
Good Question. It's hard to explain, because I don't really get it. I guess it's a like party in a public place that only lasts for about half an hour from beginning to end, and there are instructions you are supposed to follow.
Q. Can you give me a more specific explanation where you aren't jerking yourself off while explaining?
Hm. It all started with an e-mail. David forwarded me an invitation to Flashmobs 1 and 2, which at the time I think were just referred to as the Mob. It was the third or fourth e-mail I had seen regarding it, and all the people who had e-mailed me about it were huge dorks, so I figured it couldn't possibly be that good or they wouldn't be involved. It's totally fine for me to say that, I know all about dorks. I have been a nerdy boy trapped in a pretty girl's body my whole life. I guess I should have bit on this right away, being a nerd myself, but just because I'm a nerd doesn't mean I should have to want to hang out with other nerds. Also, I'm so full of nerdy awkwardness, I'm probably even a step behind the nerds when it comes to being cool. I deleted the e-mails and didn't even think about it again, until one day I was at David's and he said he was going to Flashmob, and asked me if I wanted to go. I said no. He said, you should really go, it's a lot of fun. Again, I said no. I'm afraid of mobs, The mob, the word mob creeps me out, ever since I had a bad LSD trip at a Phish show in Worcester I don't like crowds, and it just all around didn't sound like my kind of get together. But I went anyway, because David kept saying things about it that made it seem kind of interesting, like it was going to be a New York adventure. What really won me over was when he said that it was the kind of thing he moved to New York for, thinking there'd be more things like it, and maybe there used to be more things like it, but there isn't really any more. I'm ad libbing.
We went to Radio Shack and he bought a digital camera, because his friend in San Francisco wanted him to take photos and send them to him. I don't know his friend, I think his name is Sean. Anyway, David gives him credit for coining the term "Flashmob." Steve has some kind of interest in it. I believe he has stories and links about it as well. So, David and I went to FM3 and took a bunch of pictures. We took a taxi to Grand Central, where we had to look for a person reading a copy of the New York Review of Books or something like that. When we found him, we had to flash a dollar bill at him with the word MOB written on it. Then, he gave us a slip that said to leave Grand Central and go to the Marriott Hotel across the street, or maybe it was the Hyatt, I can't remember. It gave very specific directions about what time to get there. Once there, we had to go up and stand around the second floor railing and applause for 15 seconds. We then had to immediately disperse.
I did it, but I don't know how good I felt about it. I couldn't help but feel like someone was playing a joke on me. I left and didn't think much about it until David and three or four other nerds sent me another e-mail. I read it and again deleted it, saying to myself, "I'm not going," and then rewarding myself for taking a stand against the "cool dorks" with some cake.
Again, I'm at David's and once again, he asks if I'd like to go to Flashmob 4. Again, I say no. This time, I sort of can't because I have someplace else to be and I don't want to go hang out with a bunch of nerds or whatever. Then David says he's going to buy a video camera. Well. I got very excited about that because I'd been trying to get him to buy a video camera for awhile, for selfish reasons. David had to buy a new camera anyway because in a matter of days, he'd lost the oh-so-sleek and elegant little 400 or so dollar still camera that he'd bought for Flashmob 3. We went over to B&H and David bought a nice digital video camera, and took a taxi downtown to FM4. We had to meet at a bar off Houston and go to the back to get instructions. The whole place was full of people, and I noticed a girl with a New York Post steno pad. I had a feeling this was going to be a bit insane.
The directions we were given told us to go to Otto Tootsie Plohound, the shoe store on LaFayette. We had to go in and look at the shoes as if they were from outer space. Then, we had to call a friend and say, "Guess where I am?" Then, we could say, "In a Soho shoe store!" or "At one of those New York mobs."
We walked over and the streets were already crowded with people, lining the streets, waiting until 7:16 or whenever, to go traipsing into this poor guy's livelihood and trample all over it. I couldn't help but feel a little bit bad, but my curiosity propelled me in. One minute early, the swarm of people littering the streets started flowing into the store. I fell into the mix, and got inside somewhere towards the end of the crowd. The guy who owned the store started shitting his pants, just as I'd expected. He closed the doors and was said, "No more people!" just as David was walking towards the store with his camera. The media was all over it. Outside the doors, photographers flashes were a flashing, journalists were a journaling, and reporters were a reporting. It was a little bit surreal, because I don't even know exactly what they were going to say about it, much like I didn't know what I was going to say about FM when I sat down to write this.
I guess it does deserve attention. I go to comedy and music shows every week where there are four people in the audience, and the people who produce those shows bust their asses to get those four people in there. These spontaneous freak shows, dork parades, what have you, seem to double in size with each gathering. How do they get so many people to go and do nothing? Maybe nothing is the key element to success, as we've seen in Seinfeld's tv show and George Bush's brain.
I don't know what I'm doing at FM or even why or how I get there usually, but at the end, I feel like I am the butt of a huge joke. The best part of this joke though, if it is in fact, a joke, is that all the coolest people I know are starting to show up at flashmob. I feel like I'm learning all over again what I already learned in high school. At some point, all cliques merge, and when they do, sometimes there are shoes involved.
See the video we made of Flashmob 4 at my friend David's website:
http://www.creamy.com/blog/2003_07_01_archive.html#105851260878254205
The video has been getting a lot of attention, but I don't know why.
While you're at it, peruse my friend David's website and read his blog at www.creamy.com
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
This is a short segment from a ten-minute play I've written. The characters in the
play are Janet, Jim and Stewart, though Stewart isn't in this scene.
JANET: Janet is in her late twenties. She's a overall a nice girl, but manipulative
and insecure. She can't understand why Jim and her have been friends for so
long and Jim hasn't yet tried to have sex with her.
JIM: Jim is a nice guy. He has been friends with Janet for so long, he has come
to know her as a buddy, and just overlooked her as an option for sex. However,
after she mentions it, he starts to think about it more closely.
STUART: Stuart is another male friend of Janet's whom she has also never bedded.
JANET
Well, there's got to be something wrong with me.
or you would have tried to at least get a hand job.
a weiner lick, something.
JIM
No...I....you're my friend.
JANET
What? Your what?
JIM
Your friend.
JANET
(thinking)
If you were my real friend, you would've gone down
on me by now.
JIM
You're the only girl I know who I can talk to. That
means something to me.
JANET
Jesus! Listen to yourself!
Jim sits silently, looks absolutely dumbfounded.
JANET
If you're my friend, prove it right now.
JIM
How?
JANET
You know how.
JIM
I can't do that.
JANET
If you won't do it willingly, I'm going to have to
force you.
JIM
Are you going to rape me?
JANET
You are making me do this. I didn't want it to come
to this.
JIM
(sighs, chuckling a bit)
I'll have sex with you, but I can't promise it won't hurt
our friendship.
JANET
Do you think this is a joke? Do you think that this is
some kind of fucking joke? Because it's not. It's not a
fucking joke to me, Jim. This is fucking bullshit. I am a
sexy woman, god dammit! I am smart, and funny....and,
voluptuous, and mother of christ, what the hell is wrong
with me that you don't want to fuck me?
JIM
Maybe there's nothing wrong with you. Maybe it's me.
Did you think of that?
JANET
Don't give me that bullshit line, Jim. That's a line.
JIM
It's not a line.
JANET
Take off your pants. We're fucking. Right now.
JIM
Janet, can't you see how ridiculous this is?
JANET
Don't patronize me.
JIM
It's just stupid, this whole thing.
JANET
I'm sorry. It's gone too far to turn back now.
JIM
My clothes aren't even off yet!
JANET
I'm sorry. Too far.
play are Janet, Jim and Stewart, though Stewart isn't in this scene.
JANET: Janet is in her late twenties. She's a overall a nice girl, but manipulative
and insecure. She can't understand why Jim and her have been friends for so
long and Jim hasn't yet tried to have sex with her.
JIM: Jim is a nice guy. He has been friends with Janet for so long, he has come
to know her as a buddy, and just overlooked her as an option for sex. However,
after she mentions it, he starts to think about it more closely.
STUART: Stuart is another male friend of Janet's whom she has also never bedded.
JANET
Well, there's got to be something wrong with me.
or you would have tried to at least get a hand job.
a weiner lick, something.
JIM
No...I....you're my friend.
JANET
What? Your what?
JIM
Your friend.
JANET
(thinking)
If you were my real friend, you would've gone down
on me by now.
JIM
You're the only girl I know who I can talk to. That
means something to me.
JANET
Jesus! Listen to yourself!
Jim sits silently, looks absolutely dumbfounded.
JANET
If you're my friend, prove it right now.
JIM
How?
JANET
You know how.
JIM
I can't do that.
JANET
If you won't do it willingly, I'm going to have to
force you.
JIM
Are you going to rape me?
JANET
You are making me do this. I didn't want it to come
to this.
JIM
(sighs, chuckling a bit)
I'll have sex with you, but I can't promise it won't hurt
our friendship.
JANET
Do you think this is a joke? Do you think that this is
some kind of fucking joke? Because it's not. It's not a
fucking joke to me, Jim. This is fucking bullshit. I am a
sexy woman, god dammit! I am smart, and funny....and,
voluptuous, and mother of christ, what the hell is wrong
with me that you don't want to fuck me?
JIM
Maybe there's nothing wrong with you. Maybe it's me.
Did you think of that?
JANET
Don't give me that bullshit line, Jim. That's a line.
JIM
It's not a line.
JANET
Take off your pants. We're fucking. Right now.
JIM
Janet, can't you see how ridiculous this is?
JANET
Don't patronize me.
JIM
It's just stupid, this whole thing.
JANET
I'm sorry. It's gone too far to turn back now.
JIM
My clothes aren't even off yet!
JANET
I'm sorry. Too far.
Tuesday, July 8, 2003
Neighborhood Thrift-Store Adventures
by Jessica Delfino
On the upper east side, where I share a tiny non-air conditioned apartment in sin with a man, a thrift store lives in the basement of a giant church, just a block away from me. In this thrift store, there is super shit for cheap because it is owned and operated by the church, and just in case you're wondering, the church doesn't need your money. It's independently wealthy. God owns it, and God's rich. The store is supplied by the good people (also rich, but not as rich as God) who attend the church. They drop off their old Gap, Members Only, Levi, Bandolino, Sassoon, Banana Republic (with that old red label) and Anne Klein skorts, denim blouses, pleather belts, kimonos, one piece bathing suits and cooking aprons in plastic bags, outside the door late at night, tied tightly so the homeless people can't break into them. Sometimes, they'll even slip a secret treasure in there - a pair of vintage Showoffs heels, Gucci sunglasses, an Adrien Vittadini skirt, navy and white striped, for some nice girl who they hope will change their ways to fancy and cleanly when they find God through their gently used hand-me-downs.
Though it sounds like heaven under church on Earth, it has a gripping similarity to hell, based on more than location alone.
I hate to nitpick, actually I don't, but the thrift shop sign lies. The sign says they open at 12, but they have not once been open at 12. The sign says they close at 6, at 4:45 they're ushering you out the door, like this: "OK, we're closing! Everyone has to get out now!" Even though the sales clerk did let me slide a quarter on my $4 purchase when I told him I only had $3.75, he didn't do it happily. I guess even God gets pissed when the till is short.
A lot of the clothes are not washed when they are handed in. They are stained with God knows what, not buyer knows what. Though you can get a good deal in the dingy, air conditioned, musty-odored thrift store, you don't just stumble upon it. You have to dig. With a shovel. You have to cram yourself in between old ladies and fight for a glimpse at a blouse that you wouldn't even want to look at if they weren't making such a big deal over it. You have to smile and wait while an enormous lady takes her time poring over skirts her size 15 years ago. You either have to go in with an idea in mind of what you are looking for, or absolutely no idea at all. You can't go with an in-between! It's hopeless that way.
One time, an asian lady and myself were racing through the shoes to find the best pairs, then shuffling maybe's away into our coats to protect them from eachother. To the other, we were vultures who eyed eachother's merchandise and waited for the other to drop one shoe. It only took me 45 minutes of intensive archaeological digging to unearth THE PAIR from piles of the ancient ruins of second hand clothing that'd been there so long they were practically small mountains of dust. The shoes I found were so Godly, so lady like, if God were a woman, he would wear these shoes. They were as fine as the church, if not, finer. I held them up to the light. I bit the heel to check if it was real. I sniffed the leather, I don't know why. I was sure. These shoes were going to change my life. I was glad I'd saved them from some other foot, rescuing them from the shoe pound where they would surely have gotten old and died alone. As I got to the counter, I decided I didn't even want them, anyway.
That's the thing with shopping a lot of times. I only want what other people want more.
As I left the thrift store, I felt really good about not purchasing the shoes. I thought about all the other things I could buy with that $4 - a cool glass of iced tea to chill my tongue and teeth on that stuffy summer day; a Time Out NY magazine, brimming with fun activities and events all over the city; a fine cuppette of Tasty-D, swirled even, if I so decided; but in the end, I walked to this other thrift store that isn't below a church and splurged every penny of the $4 on a pair of fire engine red heels, circa 1986.
Sometimes money is meant to be wasted.
by Jessica Delfino
On the upper east side, where I share a tiny non-air conditioned apartment in sin with a man, a thrift store lives in the basement of a giant church, just a block away from me. In this thrift store, there is super shit for cheap because it is owned and operated by the church, and just in case you're wondering, the church doesn't need your money. It's independently wealthy. God owns it, and God's rich. The store is supplied by the good people (also rich, but not as rich as God) who attend the church. They drop off their old Gap, Members Only, Levi, Bandolino, Sassoon, Banana Republic (with that old red label) and Anne Klein skorts, denim blouses, pleather belts, kimonos, one piece bathing suits and cooking aprons in plastic bags, outside the door late at night, tied tightly so the homeless people can't break into them. Sometimes, they'll even slip a secret treasure in there - a pair of vintage Showoffs heels, Gucci sunglasses, an Adrien Vittadini skirt, navy and white striped, for some nice girl who they hope will change their ways to fancy and cleanly when they find God through their gently used hand-me-downs.
Though it sounds like heaven under church on Earth, it has a gripping similarity to hell, based on more than location alone.
I hate to nitpick, actually I don't, but the thrift shop sign lies. The sign says they open at 12, but they have not once been open at 12. The sign says they close at 6, at 4:45 they're ushering you out the door, like this: "OK, we're closing! Everyone has to get out now!" Even though the sales clerk did let me slide a quarter on my $4 purchase when I told him I only had $3.75, he didn't do it happily. I guess even God gets pissed when the till is short.
A lot of the clothes are not washed when they are handed in. They are stained with God knows what, not buyer knows what. Though you can get a good deal in the dingy, air conditioned, musty-odored thrift store, you don't just stumble upon it. You have to dig. With a shovel. You have to cram yourself in between old ladies and fight for a glimpse at a blouse that you wouldn't even want to look at if they weren't making such a big deal over it. You have to smile and wait while an enormous lady takes her time poring over skirts her size 15 years ago. You either have to go in with an idea in mind of what you are looking for, or absolutely no idea at all. You can't go with an in-between! It's hopeless that way.
One time, an asian lady and myself were racing through the shoes to find the best pairs, then shuffling maybe's away into our coats to protect them from eachother. To the other, we were vultures who eyed eachother's merchandise and waited for the other to drop one shoe. It only took me 45 minutes of intensive archaeological digging to unearth THE PAIR from piles of the ancient ruins of second hand clothing that'd been there so long they were practically small mountains of dust. The shoes I found were so Godly, so lady like, if God were a woman, he would wear these shoes. They were as fine as the church, if not, finer. I held them up to the light. I bit the heel to check if it was real. I sniffed the leather, I don't know why. I was sure. These shoes were going to change my life. I was glad I'd saved them from some other foot, rescuing them from the shoe pound where they would surely have gotten old and died alone. As I got to the counter, I decided I didn't even want them, anyway.
That's the thing with shopping a lot of times. I only want what other people want more.
As I left the thrift store, I felt really good about not purchasing the shoes. I thought about all the other things I could buy with that $4 - a cool glass of iced tea to chill my tongue and teeth on that stuffy summer day; a Time Out NY magazine, brimming with fun activities and events all over the city; a fine cuppette of Tasty-D, swirled even, if I so decided; but in the end, I walked to this other thrift store that isn't below a church and splurged every penny of the $4 on a pair of fire engine red heels, circa 1986.
Sometimes money is meant to be wasted.
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
Dream Job
by Jessica Delfino
Last summer around this time I worked as a nanny on the upper east side. It was the craziest job I ever had with lots of neat perks. I got a free, albeit tiny apartment, a nice salary, and the kids I was supposed to be caring for were both at camp all summer. So I basically got paid to eat rich people food, jog in Central Park, walk the dog, which was one of those expensive trendy kinds, hang out in the Hamptons, and live in a castle of a home on Park Avenue.
The family who hired me was your typical rich Jewish family with lots of weird dilemmas. Working for them gave me all the knowledge I have of Jewish New York. Before them, I had really never known anything at all about Jewish culture or religion, either real or perceived, besides one or two stereotypes I totally still believe. I got some insight on a different brand of living that I might have never gotten to experience otherwise, and I value the time I spent there. However, paying no mind to race or religion, I should have known when the mom said "It would be an honor and a privilige to you should we hire you to work in our home" that things might get a little psychotic.
And they did. I got fired shortly after the children returned from camp when the teenager told her mother I was stealing her clothes and yelling at her all the time. That's not the real story, and I'm not even going to tell it, because it is so very petty and boring.
STILL, even having had this vanilla extract/vanilla syrup-y experience, I would do it again. I might change a few things, set the scenario up differently from the beginning, and make sure the lines of communication were wide open. If I were seeking a job like this today, this might be my posting, which leads us incidentally to another....
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Wanted - crazy rich people to hire me to do their weird errands.
I will charge an exorbitant amount per the hour and possibly go
over the boundaries of 'hired help' but you will get a great assistant
who is smart, hot and willing and able to deal with rich person crap.
I'll play the part of sophisticated socialite youngster with a job to do,
and you be your loaded, generous, insane self. It'll be like a sitcom,
but without all the hilarity ensuing. Willing to do all kinds of ridiculous,
unimportant tasks, including care for your children and walk your fancy dog.
Job must include perks like going to the Hamptons with you, staying at
your big house and driving your kick-ass car. Also, I should get to attend
any big rich people parties you are putting on, because I'll have done most
of the work. PS I am seeking only crazies or eccentrics, no assholes,
please. Must be prepared to be lampooned on an internet journal if you fire me.
If you read this and are interested in hiring me or buying me a present,
you can contact me at jessicadelfino@aol.com.
by Jessica Delfino
Last summer around this time I worked as a nanny on the upper east side. It was the craziest job I ever had with lots of neat perks. I got a free, albeit tiny apartment, a nice salary, and the kids I was supposed to be caring for were both at camp all summer. So I basically got paid to eat rich people food, jog in Central Park, walk the dog, which was one of those expensive trendy kinds, hang out in the Hamptons, and live in a castle of a home on Park Avenue.
The family who hired me was your typical rich Jewish family with lots of weird dilemmas. Working for them gave me all the knowledge I have of Jewish New York. Before them, I had really never known anything at all about Jewish culture or religion, either real or perceived, besides one or two stereotypes I totally still believe. I got some insight on a different brand of living that I might have never gotten to experience otherwise, and I value the time I spent there. However, paying no mind to race or religion, I should have known when the mom said "It would be an honor and a privilige to you should we hire you to work in our home" that things might get a little psychotic.
And they did. I got fired shortly after the children returned from camp when the teenager told her mother I was stealing her clothes and yelling at her all the time. That's not the real story, and I'm not even going to tell it, because it is so very petty and boring.
STILL, even having had this vanilla extract/vanilla syrup-y experience, I would do it again. I might change a few things, set the scenario up differently from the beginning, and make sure the lines of communication were wide open. If I were seeking a job like this today, this might be my posting, which leads us incidentally to another....
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Wanted - crazy rich people to hire me to do their weird errands.
I will charge an exorbitant amount per the hour and possibly go
over the boundaries of 'hired help' but you will get a great assistant
who is smart, hot and willing and able to deal with rich person crap.
I'll play the part of sophisticated socialite youngster with a job to do,
and you be your loaded, generous, insane self. It'll be like a sitcom,
but without all the hilarity ensuing. Willing to do all kinds of ridiculous,
unimportant tasks, including care for your children and walk your fancy dog.
Job must include perks like going to the Hamptons with you, staying at
your big house and driving your kick-ass car. Also, I should get to attend
any big rich people parties you are putting on, because I'll have done most
of the work. PS I am seeking only crazies or eccentrics, no assholes,
please. Must be prepared to be lampooned on an internet journal if you fire me.
If you read this and are interested in hiring me or buying me a present,
you can contact me at jessicadelfino@aol.com.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
A LOOK INTO JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Comedy is going okay lately and I've even got a bit of dough stored up, but even so, I always
feel guity about not "working." I mean, I do work, but I don't have a legitimate job and by a
legitimate job I mean one that is boring, underpaid and void of any creativity or interest.
Since I am fine with that, but I feel slightly guilty for not having more money, I have decided to
compromise by applying for jobs, but just making sure I don't get hired.
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: Terry@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-06-14, 12:32PM
Men and Women, ages 25 - 55 needed for focus group about TV's on Tuesday evening 6/17. If you have
recently purchased a Toshiba, Samsung or Hitachi TV you may qualify for participation. If qualified you
will receive $75 CASH for the group. you must be TELEPHONE screened to qualify. If interested call TERRY.
Please leave name, phone number age and type of TV you purchased. (If you have previously
called for our home entertainment study, please do not call again).
Dear Terry
How are you? I'm writing to let you know I would be interested in being in your focus group about
the tv's. I must be honest, I did not recently purchase a Samsung, Toshiba or a Hitachi tv.
I actually saw a Hitachi in the store I liked a ton but my husband insisted on purchasing an
Omnivision set because he says the japs make his skin crawl and his brain hiss. I don't know what
he meant by that, but I love him and as his loving wife, I try to put up with his inappropriate
anti-racial slurs and other shortcomings. I give him extra credit because he was in the war.
We all have our faults, Terry.
Anyway, I think I will go ahead and give you a call, but first I wanted to send an e-mail to let
you know I'm going to call.
I want to add, Terry, it says in the listing to leave your age. I am 56, not that it's anyone's
business, and I'd rather not have to leave it again when I call on the telephone. I don't want
my age floating around across all those wires, who knows who might be listening in on a wire tap,
or as my husband always says, 'snooping around like some kind of jap.'
I don't really need to work. My husband makes a good living as a city police officer, and all the
kids are grown, so that leaves me with a lot of free time. However, I do like to make my own money.
I saw a great tablecloth at Daffy's the other day that I really want to buy, and also a
belt at the Gap with all kinds of bright shapes and colors on it. I was wondering, do you
think that little children really make those things in sweatshops like they say? If so,
what a great bargain! To think that I got to purchase an item made painstakingly by a child
so that her entire family could eat. This world is an amazing place.
Thanks so much for your time and significance in my life,
Shirl
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
Reply to: Rachael11375@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-06-14, 9:35AM
I'm looking for a handy person who is able to do some physical labor. I need someone who has their own
tools to clean the front yard, back yard and side. The majority of area is cemented so the job invloves
pulling weeds, sweeping, pruning,cleaning out a small plastic fish tank and replacing a garden faucet.
Compensation: $20 per hour
Hey Rachel
You don't know me, but I saw your ad on Craig's list and I am very handy. My name is Taylor, and I can
do a lot of different things. I can fix things, I can tie things together with a series of knots I
learned while I was in the Marine Reserves, I also have a knife which I use for whittling and stabbing!
Just kidding.
I also want to tell you, I have a lot of great tools. I spent a lot of money on my tool collection,
and these are the things I have: hammer, screwdriver, wrench, chisel, saw, pick axe, nails, screws, lawn
mower, batteries, a mallot, a fork lift, cement, and some 2x4's. I could build a small coffin for burial
in a shallow grave with all this stuff! Just kidding! I swear.
So, it sounds like you live in a dirty place. I don't do cleaning, so you'd have to find someone else
to pick up weeds and sweep and whatever you want people to do with the fish tank, that sounds like the
kind of work a woman does, not a handy man. I note you said person, but most people associate the term
handy with man, and I think you probably know that.
In closing, I could probably replace the garden faucet, and if there's anything else you need fixed or
whatever, I could probably figure that out, too. Also, $20 per hour is more than fair, considering I
plan to rob you blind at gunpoint.
I'm totally kidding! Please give me a call when you get a chance.
Your handyman,
Taylor
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
Reply to: employment@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-06-14, 7:18AM
Attractive Ladies (18 - 25yrs old) Needed to
Perform Foot Fetish Sessions at Midtown Fetish Club.
No Nudity or Sex involved.
Completely Legal & Legit Business.
Pleasant & Safe Atmosphere.
Earn Cash & Have Fun.
No cameras or Pictures Taken.
Compensation: $300 - $500 a Night
To Whom It May Concern:
I am interested in having fun at your foot fetish parties. I am a young
lady who has perfect feet. This is the thing. I'm 12. I know you said 18-25,
but let me assure you - my feet are absolutely immaculate. I do foot modeling
for JC Penny's catalogs and Sketchers sneakers.
I am very smart for a young girl, and very outgoing. Also, my body is
tight. I think that I am just the thing you need to get your party jammin'.
Everyone will be talking about the girl with perfect feet for years to come.
Just to let you know, I've spoken with my guardian about this and she has
agreed to let me go. I have the appropriate working papers from being a
foot model already, and my mom trusts me. She already told me not to do
anything stupid, like jack off a guy with my feet or whatever, so I know
what not to do.
Thanks a lot, I hope to meet you there.
Signed,
Mandy
---------------READING ------------------------------------------------------
You are invited to a reading I will be featured in on
Monday, June 16th, 2003 at:
TelReadings @Telephone Bar
149 2nd Ave New York NY @ 9th St.
(212) 529-5000
by Jessica Delfino
Comedy is going okay lately and I've even got a bit of dough stored up, but even so, I always
feel guity about not "working." I mean, I do work, but I don't have a legitimate job and by a
legitimate job I mean one that is boring, underpaid and void of any creativity or interest.
Since I am fine with that, but I feel slightly guilty for not having more money, I have decided to
compromise by applying for jobs, but just making sure I don't get hired.
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: Terry@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-06-14, 12:32PM
Men and Women, ages 25 - 55 needed for focus group about TV's on Tuesday evening 6/17. If you have
recently purchased a Toshiba, Samsung or Hitachi TV you may qualify for participation. If qualified you
will receive $75 CASH for the group. you must be TELEPHONE screened to qualify. If interested call TERRY.
Please leave name, phone number age and type of TV you purchased. (If you have previously
called for our home entertainment study, please do not call again).
Dear Terry
How are you? I'm writing to let you know I would be interested in being in your focus group about
the tv's. I must be honest, I did not recently purchase a Samsung, Toshiba or a Hitachi tv.
I actually saw a Hitachi in the store I liked a ton but my husband insisted on purchasing an
Omnivision set because he says the japs make his skin crawl and his brain hiss. I don't know what
he meant by that, but I love him and as his loving wife, I try to put up with his inappropriate
anti-racial slurs and other shortcomings. I give him extra credit because he was in the war.
We all have our faults, Terry.
Anyway, I think I will go ahead and give you a call, but first I wanted to send an e-mail to let
you know I'm going to call.
I want to add, Terry, it says in the listing to leave your age. I am 56, not that it's anyone's
business, and I'd rather not have to leave it again when I call on the telephone. I don't want
my age floating around across all those wires, who knows who might be listening in on a wire tap,
or as my husband always says, 'snooping around like some kind of jap.'
I don't really need to work. My husband makes a good living as a city police officer, and all the
kids are grown, so that leaves me with a lot of free time. However, I do like to make my own money.
I saw a great tablecloth at Daffy's the other day that I really want to buy, and also a
belt at the Gap with all kinds of bright shapes and colors on it. I was wondering, do you
think that little children really make those things in sweatshops like they say? If so,
what a great bargain! To think that I got to purchase an item made painstakingly by a child
so that her entire family could eat. This world is an amazing place.
Thanks so much for your time and significance in my life,
Shirl
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
Reply to: Rachael11375@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-06-14, 9:35AM
I'm looking for a handy person who is able to do some physical labor. I need someone who has their own
tools to clean the front yard, back yard and side. The majority of area is cemented so the job invloves
pulling weeds, sweeping, pruning,cleaning out a small plastic fish tank and replacing a garden faucet.
Compensation: $20 per hour
Hey Rachel
You don't know me, but I saw your ad on Craig's list and I am very handy. My name is Taylor, and I can
do a lot of different things. I can fix things, I can tie things together with a series of knots I
learned while I was in the Marine Reserves, I also have a knife which I use for whittling and stabbing!
Just kidding.
I also want to tell you, I have a lot of great tools. I spent a lot of money on my tool collection,
and these are the things I have: hammer, screwdriver, wrench, chisel, saw, pick axe, nails, screws, lawn
mower, batteries, a mallot, a fork lift, cement, and some 2x4's. I could build a small coffin for burial
in a shallow grave with all this stuff! Just kidding! I swear.
So, it sounds like you live in a dirty place. I don't do cleaning, so you'd have to find someone else
to pick up weeds and sweep and whatever you want people to do with the fish tank, that sounds like the
kind of work a woman does, not a handy man. I note you said person, but most people associate the term
handy with man, and I think you probably know that.
In closing, I could probably replace the garden faucet, and if there's anything else you need fixed or
whatever, I could probably figure that out, too. Also, $20 per hour is more than fair, considering I
plan to rob you blind at gunpoint.
I'm totally kidding! Please give me a call when you get a chance.
Your handyman,
Taylor
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
Reply to: employment@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-06-14, 7:18AM
Attractive Ladies (18 - 25yrs old) Needed to
Perform Foot Fetish Sessions at Midtown Fetish Club.
No Nudity or Sex involved.
Completely Legal & Legit Business.
Pleasant & Safe Atmosphere.
Earn Cash & Have Fun.
No cameras or Pictures Taken.
Compensation: $300 - $500 a Night
To Whom It May Concern:
I am interested in having fun at your foot fetish parties. I am a young
lady who has perfect feet. This is the thing. I'm 12. I know you said 18-25,
but let me assure you - my feet are absolutely immaculate. I do foot modeling
for JC Penny's catalogs and Sketchers sneakers.
I am very smart for a young girl, and very outgoing. Also, my body is
tight. I think that I am just the thing you need to get your party jammin'.
Everyone will be talking about the girl with perfect feet for years to come.
Just to let you know, I've spoken with my guardian about this and she has
agreed to let me go. I have the appropriate working papers from being a
foot model already, and my mom trusts me. She already told me not to do
anything stupid, like jack off a guy with my feet or whatever, so I know
what not to do.
Thanks a lot, I hope to meet you there.
Signed,
Mandy
---------------READING ------------------------------------------------------
You are invited to a reading I will be featured in on
Monday, June 16th, 2003 at:
TelReadings @Telephone Bar
149 2nd Ave New York NY @ 9th St.
(212) 529-5000
Thursday, June 5, 2003
MY FANTASY BIRTHDAY WISH LIST
1. Walid's Mitsubishi Montero - For those of you who got to ride in the Montero last summer, you know what I'm talking about.
It was a minty/lime combo green SUV-like thing that was just as much fun as a bag full of shit (the good kind of shit).
I miss that old box. For those of you who didn't ride in it, you might recognize it from a joke I tell where the window of "my"
car got smashed out and I got punched by a fat weirdo. That was the Mitsubishi. So, if any of you can make that happen,
that's #1 on my wish list.
2. A guitar backback thing. It sucks carrying a 30 lb. guitar case every time I want to go play in the subway, thus taking money
away from the homeless, or even just play at some bar, where there are no homeless, at least not on the inside.
3. Improv Level 1 class at UCB. It's $300 bucks. That's a lot of subway music.
4. I want my Fender Amp Can to work like it used to before that kid knocked it on the floor at Believe Chicken.
5. One of those fancy Sprint camera phones like the one Travis Poston and Jay have. Fuck you, you spoiled assholes.
6. I'd like my college loan and all relating paperwork to magically disappear.
7. World Peace.
8. A kitchen table so I don't have to eat sitting on my bed anymore.
9. Tom Robbins - Skinny Legs and All, Chuck Palaniak - Choke
10. A Mini Disk player (and a lifetime supply of minidisks, also someone to do all the minidisk arranging or
whatever)
11. One of those fat Panasonic or Sony movie video cameras
12. Fancy french perfume, or a string of real pearls, or both.
13. Gift certificates for exorbitant amounts to the following: Bergdorf Goodman's, Century 21, Circuit City,
and every single other store in NYC. Especially that porno shop near 40th and 8th.
14. To be Jewish in New York City, just for a day.
15. I'd like Joni Mitchell to be at my birthday party, and also Edward Furlong and Edward Norton,
sans Penelope Cruz. I'd also like to have a three-way with the two Edwards.
There are a bunch of other things, too, but who gives a crap, really?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm turning 27 - I swear to Christ!
MY BIRTHDAY PARTY is going to be on Saturday night,
June 7th at
Swift Hibernian Lounge --
aka "SWIFT"
(In the back room)
34 E 4th St (@ Bowery)
New York NY
(212) 260-3600
10:30, 11 to all night long
It's right next door to Bowery Bar
They have awesome food and a ton of draught beers, good
music and serve food until 4 am.
It's not expensive, either. Also, there is a
treacherous set of
stairs leading down to the bathroom, so that
could be fun.
Hope to see you all there...
1. Walid's Mitsubishi Montero - For those of you who got to ride in the Montero last summer, you know what I'm talking about.
It was a minty/lime combo green SUV-like thing that was just as much fun as a bag full of shit (the good kind of shit).
I miss that old box. For those of you who didn't ride in it, you might recognize it from a joke I tell where the window of "my"
car got smashed out and I got punched by a fat weirdo. That was the Mitsubishi. So, if any of you can make that happen,
that's #1 on my wish list.
2. A guitar backback thing. It sucks carrying a 30 lb. guitar case every time I want to go play in the subway, thus taking money
away from the homeless, or even just play at some bar, where there are no homeless, at least not on the inside.
3. Improv Level 1 class at UCB. It's $300 bucks. That's a lot of subway music.
4. I want my Fender Amp Can to work like it used to before that kid knocked it on the floor at Believe Chicken.
5. One of those fancy Sprint camera phones like the one Travis Poston and Jay have. Fuck you, you spoiled assholes.
6. I'd like my college loan and all relating paperwork to magically disappear.
7. World Peace.
8. A kitchen table so I don't have to eat sitting on my bed anymore.
9. Tom Robbins - Skinny Legs and All, Chuck Palaniak - Choke
10. A Mini Disk player (and a lifetime supply of minidisks, also someone to do all the minidisk arranging or
whatever)
11. One of those fat Panasonic or Sony movie video cameras
12. Fancy french perfume, or a string of real pearls, or both.
13. Gift certificates for exorbitant amounts to the following: Bergdorf Goodman's, Century 21, Circuit City,
and every single other store in NYC. Especially that porno shop near 40th and 8th.
14. To be Jewish in New York City, just for a day.
15. I'd like Joni Mitchell to be at my birthday party, and also Edward Furlong and Edward Norton,
sans Penelope Cruz. I'd also like to have a three-way with the two Edwards.
There are a bunch of other things, too, but who gives a crap, really?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm turning 27 - I swear to Christ!
MY BIRTHDAY PARTY is going to be on Saturday night,
June 7th at
Swift Hibernian Lounge --
aka "SWIFT"
(In the back room)
34 E 4th St (@ Bowery)
New York NY
(212) 260-3600
10:30, 11 to all night long
It's right next door to Bowery Bar
They have awesome food and a ton of draught beers, good
music and serve food until 4 am.
It's not expensive, either. Also, there is a
treacherous set of
stairs leading down to the bathroom, so that
could be fun.
Hope to see you all there...
Monday, May 26, 2003
What Memorial Day Means To Me
By Jessica Delfino
I notice it’s raining on Memorial Day – millions of tears falling for the millions of men who died or even just hurt their foot fighting for this country.
I could never set myself out to die fighting for anything and that makes me think about what I mean to the grand scheme. Could I? And what do I mean, anyway?
I think about it – there are a lot of things that are important to me. Candy. Certain programs on the television. Being able to chainsmoke marijuana cigarettes discreetly through a one hitter disguised as a tube of lipstick. But would I fight for these things? Would I put my life on the line, as they say, to maintain the ability to do them?
This day is to remember people who died fighting for something just as important as candy, and maybe even more so. You know what they died for. Come on, you know…..
I used to have a friend in Maine who pronounced freedom, “fweedom.”
“Dewe aw pepohl who died fighting foh aw fweedom.”
“There are people who died fighting for our freedom?”
“Dat’s what I said, “Fweedom. Be quiet, shhh.”
My friends planned a barbeque today, partially to remember freedom and stuff, but I have a feeling mostly to celebrate our right to eat hotdogs and chicken. One thing I can relate to most of all with every American holiday is the eating ritual. It makes holidays cooler.
My grandfather died a few days ago. Like many people’s peepaw’s, pop pops, grampoos, and ging gaws, he was a world war II veteran. He was also an intense atheist. When he died, we were informed that he was given a plot in the Florida war vet graveyard for he and his wife. My grandmother turned it down. He told her he didn’t want a funeral. It’s not that he didn’t care about his family, it’s just that he didn’t want god coming to the party. Even in the end, when the doctor who doubled as a priest, tried to have someone come and read my grandfather his last rites, my grampa told his doctor to get the hell out of his room and called him a bum. I think he learned that kind of behavior from his war buddies. He certainly picked up the smoking habit that led to Emphysema and did him in during wartime.
What does Memorial Day mean to me? It means I get a day off of work. It means I get to sleep in. It means I get to eat some tasty meats. Now, it means I miss my grandfather. But most of all, I guess it means I have the right to celebrate all these things. And that’s worth walking to the subway in the rain. I won’t even bring an umbrella, the least I can do is let those tears fall on me. No, I’ll probably bring an umbrella. But, thanks, guys. Thanks, grampa.
By Jessica Delfino
I notice it’s raining on Memorial Day – millions of tears falling for the millions of men who died or even just hurt their foot fighting for this country.
I could never set myself out to die fighting for anything and that makes me think about what I mean to the grand scheme. Could I? And what do I mean, anyway?
I think about it – there are a lot of things that are important to me. Candy. Certain programs on the television. Being able to chainsmoke marijuana cigarettes discreetly through a one hitter disguised as a tube of lipstick. But would I fight for these things? Would I put my life on the line, as they say, to maintain the ability to do them?
This day is to remember people who died fighting for something just as important as candy, and maybe even more so. You know what they died for. Come on, you know…..
I used to have a friend in Maine who pronounced freedom, “fweedom.”
“Dewe aw pepohl who died fighting foh aw fweedom.”
“There are people who died fighting for our freedom?”
“Dat’s what I said, “Fweedom. Be quiet, shhh.”
My friends planned a barbeque today, partially to remember freedom and stuff, but I have a feeling mostly to celebrate our right to eat hotdogs and chicken. One thing I can relate to most of all with every American holiday is the eating ritual. It makes holidays cooler.
My grandfather died a few days ago. Like many people’s peepaw’s, pop pops, grampoos, and ging gaws, he was a world war II veteran. He was also an intense atheist. When he died, we were informed that he was given a plot in the Florida war vet graveyard for he and his wife. My grandmother turned it down. He told her he didn’t want a funeral. It’s not that he didn’t care about his family, it’s just that he didn’t want god coming to the party. Even in the end, when the doctor who doubled as a priest, tried to have someone come and read my grandfather his last rites, my grampa told his doctor to get the hell out of his room and called him a bum. I think he learned that kind of behavior from his war buddies. He certainly picked up the smoking habit that led to Emphysema and did him in during wartime.
What does Memorial Day mean to me? It means I get a day off of work. It means I get to sleep in. It means I get to eat some tasty meats. Now, it means I miss my grandfather. But most of all, I guess it means I have the right to celebrate all these things. And that’s worth walking to the subway in the rain. I won’t even bring an umbrella, the least I can do is let those tears fall on me. No, I’ll probably bring an umbrella. But, thanks, guys. Thanks, grampa.
Saturday, May 24, 2003
Peter is a comedian/motivational speaker. He's come to talk to a group of people in Annendale, wherever that is.
PETER
You are so special! All of you have the capability to do huge things! Great things!
Yes, a question?
RIMRAM
(he's deaf so he has a deaf accent)
Penor, how gdigyou ferst reanithze nyou were....
PETER
(interrupts Rimram)
uh...excuse me..., what kind of accent is that?
RIMRAM
YI'm deav
PETER
Deaf? More like retarded! Hey! OK, now we're rolling!
You're so deaf, your voice sounds like you're really, really deaf!
Hey, so, you're deaf. Sorry to "hear" about that!
You know the good thing about making fun of deaf people?
They can't hear you! Is this thing on or are you just deaf?
Cut to an audience member who is crying.
RIMRAM
Nwhy ore nyou doingn nthis?
PETER
What's wrong, deafie? Can't take the heat or are you just deaf?
You know what, sir? I like you? You're what the blacks would
call, "Deaf" know what I'm saying?
Cut to an older lady who clutches her chest and gasps.
RIMRAM
Nwell, nyou're so ungfunny, th-th-tha-that nyou nyou...
PETER
(looks amazed)
Is that a stutter? A deaf guy with a stutter? Holy, shit, man,
you're a comic goldmine! You're a pre-written hack joke, waiting
to be unwrapped and presented to an audience of thankless
judgemental jews! Get outta here! And take your stutter with you,
you deaf freak!
Cut to an older man with a cane who is waving his cane in the air and
making outraged moaning sounds.
AUDIENCE MEMBER
Hey now you just wait a minute! Don't make fun of that man! He
has learned to overcome a life-shattering disability! What kind of
motivational speaker are you?
PETER
One who doesn't waste his wisdom on people who have no hope!
Have you ever seen one deaf president? A deaf astronaut? How
about a deaf rap artist? NONE! You know why? Because deaf
people are lazy!
ANOTHER AUDIENCE MEMBER
You are out of line, sir!
PETER
I think, no. Life is full of distractions
that can get in the way of your success. Don't let
deaf people ruin your life!
RIMRAM
Yi'm nleaving gnow.
PETER
Good! Thank you for ruining my show! Read
my lips - you ruined my show!
(Peter does some sign language looking hand motions)
LADY
You just said, "I ate an asshole sandwich."
PETER
What?
LADY
In sign language. That's what you just said. How
do you know sign language?
Peter is silent and looks a bit alarmed, like he's been busted.
LADY
Are you deaf? I asked you a question. How do you know sign language?
Are you deaf?
PETER
Yes.
The audience goes insane with gasps and whispers.
LADY
QUIET!
(back to Peter)
Well, you should be ashamed of yourself. Picking on
that guy, and you're deaf yourself.
PETER
Tank, let's just call it all off. Come on up here!
RIMRAM
Aw....alright, we had our fun!
Rimram goes up onstage.
PETER
Everyone, playing the role of Rimram, my best
friend who has 20/20 hearing - Tank!
Everyone sort of applauds, but is also confused. Rimram comes up onstage and
holds hands with Peter. They hold their hands up in the air together and bow. The
applause gets a little more intense. Peter steps back and puts his arms out palms
up towards Rimram as if to showcase him. Rimram bows. Rimram does it back to
Peter. Peter bashfully accepts the applause.
The End
PETER
You are so special! All of you have the capability to do huge things! Great things!
Yes, a question?
RIMRAM
(he's deaf so he has a deaf accent)
Penor, how gdigyou ferst reanithze nyou were....
PETER
(interrupts Rimram)
uh...excuse me..., what kind of accent is that?
RIMRAM
YI'm deav
PETER
Deaf? More like retarded! Hey! OK, now we're rolling!
You're so deaf, your voice sounds like you're really, really deaf!
Hey, so, you're deaf. Sorry to "hear" about that!
You know the good thing about making fun of deaf people?
They can't hear you! Is this thing on or are you just deaf?
Cut to an audience member who is crying.
RIMRAM
Nwhy ore nyou doingn nthis?
PETER
What's wrong, deafie? Can't take the heat or are you just deaf?
You know what, sir? I like you? You're what the blacks would
call, "Deaf" know what I'm saying?
Cut to an older lady who clutches her chest and gasps.
RIMRAM
Nwell, nyou're so ungfunny, th-th-tha-that nyou nyou...
PETER
(looks amazed)
Is that a stutter? A deaf guy with a stutter? Holy, shit, man,
you're a comic goldmine! You're a pre-written hack joke, waiting
to be unwrapped and presented to an audience of thankless
judgemental jews! Get outta here! And take your stutter with you,
you deaf freak!
Cut to an older man with a cane who is waving his cane in the air and
making outraged moaning sounds.
AUDIENCE MEMBER
Hey now you just wait a minute! Don't make fun of that man! He
has learned to overcome a life-shattering disability! What kind of
motivational speaker are you?
PETER
One who doesn't waste his wisdom on people who have no hope!
Have you ever seen one deaf president? A deaf astronaut? How
about a deaf rap artist? NONE! You know why? Because deaf
people are lazy!
ANOTHER AUDIENCE MEMBER
You are out of line, sir!
PETER
I think, no. Life is full of distractions
that can get in the way of your success. Don't let
deaf people ruin your life!
RIMRAM
Yi'm nleaving gnow.
PETER
Good! Thank you for ruining my show! Read
my lips - you ruined my show!
(Peter does some sign language looking hand motions)
LADY
You just said, "I ate an asshole sandwich."
PETER
What?
LADY
In sign language. That's what you just said. How
do you know sign language?
Peter is silent and looks a bit alarmed, like he's been busted.
LADY
Are you deaf? I asked you a question. How do you know sign language?
Are you deaf?
PETER
Yes.
The audience goes insane with gasps and whispers.
LADY
QUIET!
(back to Peter)
Well, you should be ashamed of yourself. Picking on
that guy, and you're deaf yourself.
PETER
Tank, let's just call it all off. Come on up here!
RIMRAM
Aw....alright, we had our fun!
Rimram goes up onstage.
PETER
Everyone, playing the role of Rimram, my best
friend who has 20/20 hearing - Tank!
Everyone sort of applauds, but is also confused. Rimram comes up onstage and
holds hands with Peter. They hold their hands up in the air together and bow. The
applause gets a little more intense. Peter steps back and puts his arms out palms
up towards Rimram as if to showcase him. Rimram bows. Rimram does it back to
Peter. Peter bashfully accepts the applause.
The End
Thursday, May 8, 2003
A Poem For You - Goodbye Believe Chicken
Thank you all for coming
to see my shows
My love for you all
Grows and Grows
This is the last Believe Chicken
and now I'm so sad
I wish it could have
lasted forever
Meatloaf won't be there
and neither will Madonna
and neither will Cher
But still, come if you wanna
Please excuse my sausage fingers
as I clumbsily type this poem
I'll keep all of you on my mind
where ever I may roam
The new show I'm doing
will be on Friday at 10:30
at 48th and 2nd
hosted by Kurty
It's called Funday Funny Funday
and should be good
Chelsea Peretti is on the bill
and there will also be food
and $3 beer will be there too
and lots of other fun stuff
Bobby Tisdale, Jon Corbett
and Travis Poston
will be there if things get rough
So come on down and check it out
You'll have a great old time
and say goodbye to Believe Chicken tonight
at Nightingale from 7 to 9
Thank you all for coming
to see my shows
My love for you all
Grows and Grows
This is the last Believe Chicken
and now I'm so sad
I wish it could have
lasted forever
Meatloaf won't be there
and neither will Madonna
and neither will Cher
But still, come if you wanna
Please excuse my sausage fingers
as I clumbsily type this poem
I'll keep all of you on my mind
where ever I may roam
The new show I'm doing
will be on Friday at 10:30
at 48th and 2nd
hosted by Kurty
It's called Funday Funny Funday
and should be good
Chelsea Peretti is on the bill
and there will also be food
and $3 beer will be there too
and lots of other fun stuff
Bobby Tisdale, Jon Corbett
and Travis Poston
will be there if things get rough
So come on down and check it out
You'll have a great old time
and say goodbye to Believe Chicken tonight
at Nightingale from 7 to 9
Saturday, April 19, 2003
MY COMEDY SCHEDULE
by Jessica Delfino
Week of: Mon, April 21th - Sun, April 27th
MON - 4/21
I think I'm going to go watch, not perform in:
Pajama Jam
@ the Marquee Theater
306 W. 27th St. bt 7th & 8th aves.
TUE - 4/22
JERK-OFF @ Via Della Pace (downstairs)
7th St. @ 2nd Ave. (SE Corner)
8:00 PM
B3 (downstairs)
3rd St. @ Ave B (SE Corner)
9 PM
WED - 4/23
BIG NIGHT OUT @ RIFIFI (in the back)
11th St. near 1st Ave. (South side of street)
10 PM
THU - 4/24
BELIEVE CHICKEN @ NIGHTINGALE
13th St. @ 2nd Ave. (SW corner)
7:00 PM
FRI - 4/25
NY State of Mind, Mensa Comedy Show
Staten Island
10 PM
For more info, call: (782) 438-0067
SAT - 4/26
BOUDOIR BAR
Sacket & Degraw Sts.
Carrol Gardens, BKLN
(F,G to Carrol St.)
8:30 PM
SUN - 4/27
BAR B
2nd Avenue and Essex St.
(F to 2nd Ave.)
9 PM
So come out and see some shows. To be on my emailing list, please send email to:
jessicadelfino@aol.com. Thanks, you're awesome.
by Jessica Delfino
Week of: Mon, April 21th - Sun, April 27th
MON - 4/21
I think I'm going to go watch, not perform in:
Pajama Jam
@ the Marquee Theater
306 W. 27th St. bt 7th & 8th aves.
TUE - 4/22
JERK-OFF @ Via Della Pace (downstairs)
7th St. @ 2nd Ave. (SE Corner)
8:00 PM
B3 (downstairs)
3rd St. @ Ave B (SE Corner)
9 PM
WED - 4/23
BIG NIGHT OUT @ RIFIFI (in the back)
11th St. near 1st Ave. (South side of street)
10 PM
THU - 4/24
BELIEVE CHICKEN @ NIGHTINGALE
13th St. @ 2nd Ave. (SW corner)
7:00 PM
FRI - 4/25
NY State of Mind, Mensa Comedy Show
Staten Island
10 PM
For more info, call: (782) 438-0067
SAT - 4/26
BOUDOIR BAR
Sacket & Degraw Sts.
Carrol Gardens, BKLN
(F,G to Carrol St.)
8:30 PM
SUN - 4/27
BAR B
2nd Avenue and Essex St.
(F to 2nd Ave.)
9 PM
So come out and see some shows. To be on my emailing list, please send email to:
jessicadelfino@aol.com. Thanks, you're awesome.
LOST: Cell phone
by Jessica Delfino
I lost my cell phone the other week. I can’t believe I did that. I spent about an hour late one evening last week tracing every step I took, over and over in my mind. Did I leave it at the late night burrito shack that I visited with my friend after smoking a joint on the street in Union Square? That would’ve made sense, I was stoned and hungry. I imagined myself leaving it on the table and just walking away from it, leaving it there like a child to fend for itself. I know it’s just a cell phone but that thought made me rag on myself for days about the kind of mother I might someday make. After all, I am my mother’s daughter. But I digress. Had I put it on the tray o’ trash and dumped it into the garbage can? Would I do something so stupid? All the times I’d hitch hiked here or there which had been asleep in my memories awoke at that moment, and banded together as a chorus, pointing markedly at yes. Yes, I would do something so stupid. But really, would I have done something THAT stupid? I think I already answered, yes.
I walked down 2nd avenue and across 9th st. towards 1st ave where I would catch the bus. My friend and I talked about bills or boys. Did I remember a mysterious clanking sound behind us at one point while we were walking? Could that have been my phone spilling out onto the sidewalk and shattering into two pieces – phone shell and battery? I imagined a homeless person finding the phone and feeling like he’d just won the lottery. If that were the case, I was unexpectedly shoved into the ‘they’ in that situation. As in, “I don’t know, I guess “they’re” leaving phones around the city for us to use,” or, “Well, “they” ain’t never done nothing for me, so I’m keeping this shit.”
At 1st ave, we parted ways, kissing on the cheek in New York fashion. I crossed the street and made my way up towards the corner of 14th St. to get the bus. I waited for a bit. I think I remembered feeling my cell phone in the flimsy pocket of my satin jacket. When I bought that jacket on sale at Urban Outfitters, I knew that the pockets were going to do something unspeakable to me someday. Still, in the name of shame, I bought it anyway.
I boarded the bus and sat in the corner. I took out my notebook and began writing some jokes. I looked around the bus at a few late night couples, cruising uptown to go do it in their tiny studio apartments. I saw a smelly man flipping out over some pictures in a magazine. A fat lady and her friend watched him, making “that guy is nuts!” facial expressions at each other. When my stop came, I was so engrossed in joke writing, I missed it. I jumped up in time to see it fly by and pushed the strip to stop at the next closest stop. The bus came to a screeching halt and I almost fell over. I regained my composure and pranced off the bus, into the cool air surrounding the street.
I felt in my pocket to check the time. Cell phone – gone. I felt in my other pocket. I searched in my purse, but then I stopped. I didn’t even have to do that. I knew it was gone. My purse felt strangely different without the cell phone’s slim, rectangular shape clanking around among lipsticks and notebooks. I sighed a stoned sigh of defeat and slowly stumbled back to my 17-story walk up apartment.
When I got in, I dumped my purse out on the floor to confirm what I already knew. “I lost my cell phone,” I told my fiancé. “Aw,” he said. “Come here. Take your pants off.”
That’s one thing I love about him. When things were sucky, he always did know how to make himself feel better.
“They” sent me a new phone. It came in the mail in 3-5 business days. I ripped the package open like a junkie and spilled the contents out onto the floor. I sat on my knees, almost ritualistically sliding the battery into the phone shell. They sent me an extra charger, too. I hadn’t lost my charger. Now I have two. One for trips.
My phone came turned on and ready to go. I just had to unlock it using a special code. But I didn’t make any calls, all day long yesterday. Nor did my cell phone ring. I didn’t get back into the cell phone swing of things until last night. As I was exiting the L train to walk over to Level X to do the Comedy Kabob, my cell phone made it’s familiar peaking and falling tinkle, to indicate that I had messages.
As I pressed the voice mail button, I felt myself simultaneously falling back in line with the personal technological advancements we have today to be thankful for.
by Jessica Delfino
I lost my cell phone the other week. I can’t believe I did that. I spent about an hour late one evening last week tracing every step I took, over and over in my mind. Did I leave it at the late night burrito shack that I visited with my friend after smoking a joint on the street in Union Square? That would’ve made sense, I was stoned and hungry. I imagined myself leaving it on the table and just walking away from it, leaving it there like a child to fend for itself. I know it’s just a cell phone but that thought made me rag on myself for days about the kind of mother I might someday make. After all, I am my mother’s daughter. But I digress. Had I put it on the tray o’ trash and dumped it into the garbage can? Would I do something so stupid? All the times I’d hitch hiked here or there which had been asleep in my memories awoke at that moment, and banded together as a chorus, pointing markedly at yes. Yes, I would do something so stupid. But really, would I have done something THAT stupid? I think I already answered, yes.
I walked down 2nd avenue and across 9th st. towards 1st ave where I would catch the bus. My friend and I talked about bills or boys. Did I remember a mysterious clanking sound behind us at one point while we were walking? Could that have been my phone spilling out onto the sidewalk and shattering into two pieces – phone shell and battery? I imagined a homeless person finding the phone and feeling like he’d just won the lottery. If that were the case, I was unexpectedly shoved into the ‘they’ in that situation. As in, “I don’t know, I guess “they’re” leaving phones around the city for us to use,” or, “Well, “they” ain’t never done nothing for me, so I’m keeping this shit.”
At 1st ave, we parted ways, kissing on the cheek in New York fashion. I crossed the street and made my way up towards the corner of 14th St. to get the bus. I waited for a bit. I think I remembered feeling my cell phone in the flimsy pocket of my satin jacket. When I bought that jacket on sale at Urban Outfitters, I knew that the pockets were going to do something unspeakable to me someday. Still, in the name of shame, I bought it anyway.
I boarded the bus and sat in the corner. I took out my notebook and began writing some jokes. I looked around the bus at a few late night couples, cruising uptown to go do it in their tiny studio apartments. I saw a smelly man flipping out over some pictures in a magazine. A fat lady and her friend watched him, making “that guy is nuts!” facial expressions at each other. When my stop came, I was so engrossed in joke writing, I missed it. I jumped up in time to see it fly by and pushed the strip to stop at the next closest stop. The bus came to a screeching halt and I almost fell over. I regained my composure and pranced off the bus, into the cool air surrounding the street.
I felt in my pocket to check the time. Cell phone – gone. I felt in my other pocket. I searched in my purse, but then I stopped. I didn’t even have to do that. I knew it was gone. My purse felt strangely different without the cell phone’s slim, rectangular shape clanking around among lipsticks and notebooks. I sighed a stoned sigh of defeat and slowly stumbled back to my 17-story walk up apartment.
When I got in, I dumped my purse out on the floor to confirm what I already knew. “I lost my cell phone,” I told my fiancé. “Aw,” he said. “Come here. Take your pants off.”
That’s one thing I love about him. When things were sucky, he always did know how to make himself feel better.
“They” sent me a new phone. It came in the mail in 3-5 business days. I ripped the package open like a junkie and spilled the contents out onto the floor. I sat on my knees, almost ritualistically sliding the battery into the phone shell. They sent me an extra charger, too. I hadn’t lost my charger. Now I have two. One for trips.
My phone came turned on and ready to go. I just had to unlock it using a special code. But I didn’t make any calls, all day long yesterday. Nor did my cell phone ring. I didn’t get back into the cell phone swing of things until last night. As I was exiting the L train to walk over to Level X to do the Comedy Kabob, my cell phone made it’s familiar peaking and falling tinkle, to indicate that I had messages.
As I pressed the voice mail button, I felt myself simultaneously falling back in line with the personal technological advancements we have today to be thankful for.
Thursday, April 17, 2003
JOB-SEARCH SELF SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: pj@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-04-14, 10:07AM
We are looking for a plumber to fix leaky faucets in two buildings we have in Jersey City. The problem may be as simple as replacing the washer or as involved as replacing the faucet. We at a budget of around $20 per replacement. If you need to replace the faucet, we will reimburse you for the price of the faucet. Please contact Jean-Paul.
Dear JP
I couldn’t help but overanalyze, it’s just my nature, and I don’t mean to come off seeming like a freaky weird-nick, but I was wondering if by ‘fix leaky faucets’ you mean, engage in anal sex?
If so, I am definitely interested in this position. I was hoping that by ‘replacing the washer’ you meant frolicking among a queen sized matress in a dimly lit room. I know you have a ‘budget’ (huge testicles, right? Wink-wink, nudge, nudge) and all, but I am willing to ‘work with you.’
I am so horny, and I am really just dying to get reimbursed, really hard. Please let me know if your ‘faucet’ is still broken, because whether you like it to be ‘simple’ as you said in your ad, or quite complex, I think I’m the person for the ‘job.’
Have a great evening, hope to see your “Jersey City buildings.”
Sincerely,
Dallas
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: pj@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-04-14, 10:07AM
We are looking for a plumber to fix leaky faucets in two buildings we have in Jersey City. The problem may be as simple as replacing the washer or as involved as replacing the faucet. We at a budget of around $20 per replacement. If you need to replace the faucet, we will reimburse you for the price of the faucet. Please contact Jean-Paul.
Dear JP
I couldn’t help but overanalyze, it’s just my nature, and I don’t mean to come off seeming like a freaky weird-nick, but I was wondering if by ‘fix leaky faucets’ you mean, engage in anal sex?
If so, I am definitely interested in this position. I was hoping that by ‘replacing the washer’ you meant frolicking among a queen sized matress in a dimly lit room. I know you have a ‘budget’ (huge testicles, right? Wink-wink, nudge, nudge) and all, but I am willing to ‘work with you.’
I am so horny, and I am really just dying to get reimbursed, really hard. Please let me know if your ‘faucet’ is still broken, because whether you like it to be ‘simple’ as you said in your ad, or quite complex, I think I’m the person for the ‘job.’
Have a great evening, hope to see your “Jersey City buildings.”
Sincerely,
Dallas
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: xellmanx@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-04-14, 1:37PM
Full time Super, Prefer mature couple. FREE apartment, FREE health insurance. Free phone, electric and cable TV. Must have knowledge of: repairs, electric, plumbing, painting, boiler and #4 oil burner. Minimum 5 years experience and good references. 40 apartments. Walk up building. Starting salary $750/month.
Dear Xellmanx
You have a very interesting name. Is that Yugoslavian? I bet it isn’t! Ha ha! I am writing about the job you put up on Craig’s List. I am the mature half of a mature couple. I have no knowledge of repairs, electric, plumbing, I can do some painting (I was an art major) I don’t know about boiler – what you meant by that, and #4 oil burner, I’m blank there, too.
However, I do have five years experience in many things, and good references I promise you are not fabricated. I am especially interested in the free apartment, health insurance, phone, electric and cable TV. I think those things would be great for me. I’m really good at not paying rent or utility bills. I do have to question the starting salary of $750 a month. How am I supposed to live on such meager earnings? How am I to purchase food, diapers for my fiancé, make up products, pens when I run out of them, matches, laminating plastic, razor blades, cotton balls, facial exfoliant, denim pot holders, French to English translating software, tickets to see the play Cabaret!, a candelabra, rare baseball cards, a pink flamingo lawn ornament, extension cords, a vintage Mickey Mouse tee shirt with Mickey Mouse giving us all the finger, a patch for my diaphragm, patchouli, lemonade straws, a spitting cup, Lysol? You have given me much to consider. I hope I’ve given you something, too.
Is it too much to ask that you pay minimum wage? Just because you are Yugoslavian doesn’t mean that you can pay Yugoslavianan wages here in America.
I guess now that I think about this job, it doesn’t sound so hot. Walking up a building that has 40 floors seems a bit intense. Aren’t there laws against that kind of thing? It seems like you are advertising an illegal occupation here.
Thank you for your consideration, and have a great day,
Mrs. Balolowlochowskowi
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: xellmanx@xxxyyy.com
Date: 2003-04-14, 1:37PM
Full time Super, Prefer mature couple. FREE apartment, FREE health insurance. Free phone, electric and cable TV. Must have knowledge of: repairs, electric, plumbing, painting, boiler and #4 oil burner. Minimum 5 years experience and good references. 40 apartments. Walk up building. Starting salary $750/month.
Dear Xellmanx
You have a very interesting name. Is that Yugoslavian? I bet it isn’t! Ha ha! I am writing about the job you put up on Craig’s List. I am the mature half of a mature couple. I have no knowledge of repairs, electric, plumbing, I can do some painting (I was an art major) I don’t know about boiler – what you meant by that, and #4 oil burner, I’m blank there, too.
However, I do have five years experience in many things, and good references I promise you are not fabricated. I am especially interested in the free apartment, health insurance, phone, electric and cable TV. I think those things would be great for me. I’m really good at not paying rent or utility bills. I do have to question the starting salary of $750 a month. How am I supposed to live on such meager earnings? How am I to purchase food, diapers for my fiancé, make up products, pens when I run out of them, matches, laminating plastic, razor blades, cotton balls, facial exfoliant, denim pot holders, French to English translating software, tickets to see the play Cabaret!, a candelabra, rare baseball cards, a pink flamingo lawn ornament, extension cords, a vintage Mickey Mouse tee shirt with Mickey Mouse giving us all the finger, a patch for my diaphragm, patchouli, lemonade straws, a spitting cup, Lysol? You have given me much to consider. I hope I’ve given you something, too.
Is it too much to ask that you pay minimum wage? Just because you are Yugoslavian doesn’t mean that you can pay Yugoslavianan wages here in America.
I guess now that I think about this job, it doesn’t sound so hot. Walking up a building that has 40 floors seems a bit intense. Aren’t there laws against that kind of thing? It seems like you are advertising an illegal occupation here.
Thank you for your consideration, and have a great day,
Mrs. Balolowlochowskowi
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
JOB SEARCH SELF-SABOTAGE
Episode 1 - Blowing The Chauffer Job
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: lavail@xxxyyy.com
Chauffeur wanted for occassinal driving, most often within Manhattan.
Hours will vary according to my schedule.
Excellent job for students, actors, etc.
Must have NYSDL and a good driving record. You will be using my Lexus.
Dear lavail;
How are you doing? I would like to drive your sweet ass car around. You seem
like a nice person with great taste. I bet you are rich, too.
I have special interest in this job, because your ad reminded me of the song
”Mercedes Boy” in which the artist sings, “Do you want to ride in my Mercedes, boy?”
And then after she goes, “Ri-yide!” I thought that was sort of like your situation,
Except I’m a girl, and I guess I’d be driving mostly, and you’d be doing more of the riding.
And your car is a Lexus, which isn’t quite as good as a Mercedes, but it’s no
Ford Focus, I’ll give you that.
Let’s help each other. I come from meager beginnings. I always wanted to
drive a Lexus. Unfortunately, in my family, it was Subaru, all the way. We
probably could have afforded a nice Lincoln Town Car or perhaps even a rock solid
Peugeot, but my dad wouldn’t have it. “Subaru!” he’d shout, sometimes unprovoked.
I have a grade A clean NYSDL (New York State Driver’s License, I bet you meant)
And a stellar driving record. I think you and I will really hit it off. As you can see,
I’ve got a great sense of humor, (knock knock, who’s there? Me? Me who? Me-OW!)
And I’m really just the peaches flesh. You’ll love me. I promise.
So hire me, and you won’t be upset. Lex(us) begin a beautiful work relationship in which
you pay me a ridiculous amount of money to do little to no work.
Thank you and god bless,
Sha-monit
Episode 1 - Blowing The Chauffer Job
by Jessica Delfino
Reply to: lavail@xxxyyy.com
Chauffeur wanted for occassinal driving, most often within Manhattan.
Hours will vary according to my schedule.
Excellent job for students, actors, etc.
Must have NYSDL and a good driving record. You will be using my Lexus.
Dear lavail;
How are you doing? I would like to drive your sweet ass car around. You seem
like a nice person with great taste. I bet you are rich, too.
I have special interest in this job, because your ad reminded me of the song
”Mercedes Boy” in which the artist sings, “Do you want to ride in my Mercedes, boy?”
And then after she goes, “Ri-yide!” I thought that was sort of like your situation,
Except I’m a girl, and I guess I’d be driving mostly, and you’d be doing more of the riding.
And your car is a Lexus, which isn’t quite as good as a Mercedes, but it’s no
Ford Focus, I’ll give you that.
Let’s help each other. I come from meager beginnings. I always wanted to
drive a Lexus. Unfortunately, in my family, it was Subaru, all the way. We
probably could have afforded a nice Lincoln Town Car or perhaps even a rock solid
Peugeot, but my dad wouldn’t have it. “Subaru!” he’d shout, sometimes unprovoked.
I have a grade A clean NYSDL (New York State Driver’s License, I bet you meant)
And a stellar driving record. I think you and I will really hit it off. As you can see,
I’ve got a great sense of humor, (knock knock, who’s there? Me? Me who? Me-OW!)
And I’m really just the peaches flesh. You’ll love me. I promise.
So hire me, and you won’t be upset. Lex(us) begin a beautiful work relationship in which
you pay me a ridiculous amount of money to do little to no work.
Thank you and god bless,
Sha-monit
Sunday, April 13, 2003
Don’t Ask A Girl To Pee In Your Mouth (On The First Date)
By Jessica Delfino
Being a freak is fine, but timing is imperative, especially in regards to special requests.
When you go on a first date, ask a lot of unrelated sex questions. If the girl has a strong libido, she will bring up sex without your help.
When trying to involve bodily fluids into sex, be patient. If you aren’t patient, you should probably just pay for a hooker.
When you first get your girl to bed, then you can ask questions, but keep them soft core. Do you like this? What turns you on? Mild questions will open doors to more information. Don’t come on too strong. Instead of asking, “So are you going to pee in my mouth or what?” Try asking, “Have you ever peed in your pants? Isn’t it fun?”
Face the facts, sir. You may be a nice guy, but you’re still a pervert. Most girls don’t pee in guys’ mouths. It’s gross, it’s unsanitary, and it’s just plain weird. It doesn’t mean it’s wrong, necessarily, but it’s not common. You shouldn’t just expect that every girl wants to pee in your mouth. It’s important to create and maintain a level of trust before you jump into pee requests. You’d probably have better luck asking to borrow $100 on the first date.
Once you have reached a common comfort level, anything is possible. If a girl loves you, it is likely she will do just about anything for you. However, don’t accuse her of leading you on when at the end of the night she says, “I’ve really got to go,” and she doesn’t mean in your mouth.
By Jessica Delfino
Being a freak is fine, but timing is imperative, especially in regards to special requests.
When you go on a first date, ask a lot of unrelated sex questions. If the girl has a strong libido, she will bring up sex without your help.
When trying to involve bodily fluids into sex, be patient. If you aren’t patient, you should probably just pay for a hooker.
When you first get your girl to bed, then you can ask questions, but keep them soft core. Do you like this? What turns you on? Mild questions will open doors to more information. Don’t come on too strong. Instead of asking, “So are you going to pee in my mouth or what?” Try asking, “Have you ever peed in your pants? Isn’t it fun?”
Face the facts, sir. You may be a nice guy, but you’re still a pervert. Most girls don’t pee in guys’ mouths. It’s gross, it’s unsanitary, and it’s just plain weird. It doesn’t mean it’s wrong, necessarily, but it’s not common. You shouldn’t just expect that every girl wants to pee in your mouth. It’s important to create and maintain a level of trust before you jump into pee requests. You’d probably have better luck asking to borrow $100 on the first date.
Once you have reached a common comfort level, anything is possible. If a girl loves you, it is likely she will do just about anything for you. However, don’t accuse her of leading you on when at the end of the night she says, “I’ve really got to go,” and she doesn’t mean in your mouth.
Thursday, March 6, 2003
Don't Order A Bloody Mary At A Diner, Ever! (with Exclamations)
Don't Order A Bloody Mary At A Diner, Ever!
It is only going to bring you disappointment!
You will order the drink and it will come out too weak, too strong, too
gross!
Your waiter will be insulted if you ask him to take it back!
Because HE made it!
He will say, no! Just drink it!
Give it to your friend!
Hey, waiter, YOU drink it!
Cause I don't want it!
Then he takes it back, begrudgingly!
Only because you made a sad face! Unintentionally!
He brings you a milkshake!
Then he ignores you for forty five minutes!
Because he thinks you're an asshole!
Later, finally, he comes over to your table!
He makes a joke about you being a wimp!
He says, "She can't handle her drink!"
"She prefers chocolate milkshakes!"
And "Ha, ha, ha!"
Then he writes the check in front of your face!
And you check it twice!
Just to make sure!
He left off the Bloody Mary!
Don't Order A Bloody Mary At A Diner, Ever!
It is only going to bring you disappointment!
You will order the drink and it will come out too weak, too strong, too
gross!
Your waiter will be insulted if you ask him to take it back!
Because HE made it!
He will say, no! Just drink it!
Give it to your friend!
Hey, waiter, YOU drink it!
Cause I don't want it!
Then he takes it back, begrudgingly!
Only because you made a sad face! Unintentionally!
He brings you a milkshake!
Then he ignores you for forty five minutes!
Because he thinks you're an asshole!
Later, finally, he comes over to your table!
He makes a joke about you being a wimp!
He says, "She can't handle her drink!"
"She prefers chocolate milkshakes!"
And "Ha, ha, ha!"
Then he writes the check in front of your face!
And you check it twice!
Just to make sure!
He left off the Bloody Mary!
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