DIRTY FOLK ROCKS AGAIN

FINALLY - I have found a server which I can link to my site so that everyone can hear my songs again. So far, I've only put one up and it will take a day to activate the link and make it usable, so check it now and again until it is working. The website is called Garage Band (www.garageband.com) and it is the same site which hosts the songs I reviewed, so it should be interesting to see what people write about me! I can't wait. I bet I'm gonna get a lot of shit talkers who want to get me back for giving them honest reviews of their crappy music. The song I've put up is a newish one called "Sudden Change" and it is on the new CD I made. If you haven't heard it, and even if you have, please listen to it and give me feedback, y'all!

It's a lovely song about a dark topic in my favorite genre - dirty folk rock. The link to my band page is below:

http://www.garageband.com/artist/dirtyfolkrock

"Sudden Change" is over on the right somewhere. Also, here is a direct link to the song download page.


If you like it, please send the link to friends, even just one or two, and tell 'em it's a gift from me. Also, someone with Kazaa, put it on Kazaa, and also feel free to put it up anywhere else you want to or download it and save it for posterity's sake.

Love and hugs and kisses and vaginas,

Jessica

Time To Live, Time To Die

Hey Everyone -

Have you heard that we are going to get nuked on Feb 2nd, 2004? I read it on a trustworthy site - my friend David Danzig's blog, y'all!

Check it out - www.creamy.com/blog - the entry of Monday, Jan 5th. Click here to see what I'm talking about.

Strangely, the American media is not covering it nor are other major media sources. I guess it must be a secret, so don't tell no one!!!

Also, interestingly, my one woman show is slated for the day of the bombing. Feb 2nd, y'all, so let's all burn together at UCB theater!!! See you there, bring marshmellows.

BOTTLE (OR SOME OTHER GLASS OBJECT) TO THE HEAD:
What Happened Last Night at Barramundi
by Jessica Delfino

I went to my friend Milton's 21st birthday party last night, but had to leave early when excitement broke out - my current beau Christopher Brodeur got hit in the head with something made of glass by uninteresting from afar and probably from anear as well, Nick Zedd.

The bottle cut Christopher's head open and I had to take him to the hospital. (My friend Adira gave us a ride to the hospital which was very sweet of her. She's super nice.) Christopher ended up getting five staples across his gaping headwound.

Of course everyone is wondering, well, what did he do? He must have done something to deserve it! I didn't actually see the good times occur, but I was in the next room and heard it all. Milton (the birthday boy) and Nick were having a little scuffle. Christopher called out, (he loves to do that) "I wanna see them fight! You're both pussy faggots!" or something along those lines. Nick grabbed something made of glass and bounced it off Christopher's head. (Maybe he really is a faggot.) Christopher said, "I was only joking!" The bartender and others broke up the fight and Raven and I investigated Christopher's head and found the back to be split open about two inches vertically and gushing blood. I took him immediately to the hospital. As we were leaving, Nick was standing on the sidewalk yelling, "Hey Brodeur! You like that? (or something like that) Bleed, Brodeur!" What a fucking lame ass. I yelled back that he had overreacted and called him a pussy and together, Christopher and I stumbled down the street to a frigid stoop where I could try to further examine his bleeding head.

Rev Jen called my cellphone while we were at the hospital to check in on Christopher (I guess she felt obligated as Nick's current girlfriend and Christopher's current ex-girlfriend) and again this morning and raised a good point on Christopher's answering machine and that was that he should press charges on Nick Zedd which I tried to get him to do all night last night and into the morning today, but I can understand why he won't, because I got attacked by a maniac while driving my car in mid-town Manhattan and I didn't press charges. It's more of a pain in the ass than anything and doesn't really solve anything most of the time. Plus, Nick will probably always be a violent dick bag, no matter he gets a ticket or not. I don't even know Nick, but I do know that what an idiot.

Also, I hope that Reverend Jen breaks up with him - not to serve him right or anything, but (I would like to say that I really do like Reverend Jen and I hope if she reads the above entry she understands my bad mouthing of her beau from one protective female to another [protective?] female) it makes me feel bad that she is involved with a person whose thought process is seemingly very limited (maybe only under the influence of alcohol and/or?) and whose actions tend toward violent instead of intelligent. Reverend Jen herself is a very intelligent, creative, talented and smart person from all accounts and from what I can see, and I am not sure if she knows this or not, (she must) but she is a role model for many women who come through Collective Unconscious and it is not okay to promote dating violent jerks by dating one. However, I don't know the details or any aspects whatsoever surrounding their relationship so I guess the old walk a mile in some shoes proverb applies to me here. But honestly, shoes or not, I hope that she is not being hurt by him.

So, in closing, Christopher is fine, he has a few staples in his head and everything is okay for now. Unfortunately, this kind of thing seems to happen to Christopher a lot, and it probably won't be the last time a sensitive but violent art fag tries to attack him.

PS. I have bad mouthed Nick a lot in this entry, and it is sort of unfair because I really don't know Nick Zedd, but of the work of his I have seen, I think it is not good, nor is he particularly handsome or interesting seeming from afar (as I mentioned before) and I hope he has something else good about him, like he's super sweet? or intelligent and creative to be dating someone so gentle and special as Reverend Jen.

Politics For The Politically Retarded
by Jessica Delfino

The super handsome and talented Christopher X. Brodeur has released his first book under the publishing company, Extreme NY. His book is entitled, "Perverted Little Creep" and all biases aside, it is really very good. I didn't want to like it at first, because I am somewhat confused and unclear about his obsession with hating Mayor Giuliani (which he certainly does) but after reading the first few pages I really couldn't stop. I read it just about straight through in one or four sittings. He is now selling his book at www.amazon.com which is pretty neat-o. I tried searching for it and couldn't find it using the book's title or author info, but it did come up using the ISBN number, which is 0-9741593-0-1, so if you go to investigate, copy and paste that number into the search bar.

I wrote a little review of the book which I pasted below, and you will (hopefully) see it again if they allow it to be put up on the site. (They have rules and regulations which I didn't read, but I can almost ascertain that the rules involve not using words like, 'retarded' or 'rape' in your reviews, both of which I did use.)

Christopher is very interesting and his writing is good - I don't know if I'd go so far to say that it is as good as mine, but it actually quite similar in many ways. I guess one obvious way is that we both write with a lot of honesty and with a sense of a 'normal' speaking voice. He writes more political topical shit and some music and art related essays, he also writes "Information Updates" which I haven't seen him write in awhile, but they are way super interesting and if you get your hands on one I suggest you read it from top to bottom, photo-copy it and give it to a friend. Chances are you won't be able to stop yourself from finishing it in one smooth motion. He will run for mayor again in 2005 and has some really interesting ideas on his website - www.mayorbrodeur.com. Check that shit out.

He's having a book release party on January 27th at 675 Hudson Street (near 14th St and 9th Ave) Buzzer 3N (in a really cool tango dance studio space) featuring performances by Corn Mo, The O'Debra Twins, Tom Ritchford and other performers (me, too) and free booze. The party is free and he will be selling and signing copies of his book (but he won't be signing them with his own name. (Last night he sold a book to a girl and signed it, All the best. Marilyn Manson.) He's funny. So come and buy a book and drink up the amount of free alcohol's worth that you spent on the book to even things out. ALSO -

Christopher is the genius behind intellectual art band The Tapedeck (featuring Michael Portnoy who was the star of the Soy Bomb stunt during Bob Dylan's set at the Grammy Awards, which, btw, was Christopher's idea.) He will be performing some of the Tapedeck's songs at The Sidewalk Cafe (Corner of Ave A and 6th St.) on January 17th at 7:30 SHARP to 8 PM SHARP in the back room. He has awesome songs - if you like my music at all, you will really love his music. The show is free and there are $2 beers and mixed drinks. The back room is comfy cozy with couches and tables and a nice ambiance so bring a friend and come see the FREE show and get liquored up on CHEAP drinks while listening to his innovative art rock. (And his music, unlike mine, really does rock.)


MY REVIEW OF PERVERTED LITTLE CREEP ON AMAZON.COM

Politics For The Politically Retarded

Reviewer: Jessica Delfino - jessdelfino@yahoo.com from NY, NY

Perverted Little Creep is the organized, detailed and insightfully intelligent ramblings of fascinating, handsome and charismatic madman, Christopher X. Brodeur. Christopher's writing is funny, witty, personable, addictive and thoroughly honest. A little bit of background information on CXB - Christopher is a prolific and talented artist, writer and musician who lives in Manhattan. He ran for Mayor of NYC in 2001 with a bag over his head because he didn't want to be elected based on anything besides his ideas, which, by the way, are stellar. He was arrested for this 'stunt' and before he knew it was wrapped up in an ongoing battle of Chris vs. Giuliani and the NYPD which included illegal arrests, searches and treatment of his belongings and his person. (If you want to read more about him, go to his website - www.mayorbrodeur.com) Several of these accounts are detailed in his book, "Perverted Little Creep." He talks about being sent to Riker's Island, beating Giuliani (over and over again) in court, and proves that Giuliani was a bad man who did many bad things. I read his book in two days - I honestly couldn't put it down. I consider myself thoroughly politically ignorant but this book not only appeals to those interested in politics, it also appeals to artists, the working class, psychologists, sociologists, underdogs, anyone living in NYC, everyone who likes to read interesting writing, fans of Christopher's, and the list goes on, infinity, ad nauseum. After reading his book, I have better knowledge of the world around me and the city I live in (NYC). I am one of those people who likes to think everything is nicey nice, even when the facts point elsewhere. This book snapped me out of it a little. It said, "Hey, Jessica. Just because a man is wearing a business suit doesn't mean that he won't rape you." Buy and read this book, then when you are done, give it to a friend to read and tell them to pass it on. Thankfully, there are people like Christopher Brodeur who are fearless for those of us who are not.

Seasonal Depression: The Blog Entry
by Jessica Delfino

Well, I thought I'd outrun this Winter's case of the seeminly permanently inescapable blues (I hate using the word 'blues' but like the word 'boyfriend' it appropriately layers emotion and noun) but just as I was turning the corner to indifference and lightweight acceptance, whammo! Smacko! Right in the face-o! Honestly, I'd thought they'd have come sooner - they usually gift wrap themselves and surprise me with a drop-by, unannounced (uninvited) appearance on or around Christmas or swim into my dreams mid-hangover on the morn of the New Year. But this year, Christmas came and packed it's shit and left, and New Year's Eve and Day (the couple of whores that they are) stopped by and also took off right quickly with no trace of the usual seasonal depression. I thought I'd won the lottery or at the very least didn't even care about not getting any Christmas presents this year. I felt, "Well, if I got through the hardest, darkest part of the winter without being miserable, that is kind of like getting a present." It's similar to my views on the many kinds of sweeteners on the market - I don't like to use Sweet N' Low, it gives me migraines. I don't love to use Equal, it gives me cancer. But at least I don't get migraines. Sugar gives me calories. So, if I can get through a cup of coffee without getting a migraine headache, getting cancer or getting fat, it's kind of like getting through the winter without wanting to pitch myself off of the balcony and into the cars and firetrucks chugging through the streets below.

I don't know if depression runs in the family - oh, wait a minute, yes I do, and yes, it does. My father is manicly depressed (for some reason I actually like the way that sounds - it falls onto my ears like the expression 'heroin sheik') and I don't know if there is depression on my mother's side of the family, but she used to bite her nails until they cried blood, and now I do the same. (So, if you happen to see me and my nails are even so long as 1/8th an inch, you know my life is going well, because I have found an association between me biting my nails and being able to afford to eat at fast food restaurants.)

It settled in yesterday, like an annoying house guest but one I also knew was going to drop by and so then had prepared for with little distractions, like some CD's and a new boyfriend or whatever. It didn't even say "hello," which it usually does - gently, even. It sort of nestles up to my stomach and heart and neck and rubs along my spine like a cat, you know, and it gives me a few days to get into it. But this year, it popped up on me like getting my period on the subway, which, by the way, has happened to me before. (Interestingly, when I had gotten my period on the subway, I analogized it with depression settling in over night.) To be brash, I could even analogize it with other darker, more appropriate things, like losing your virginity anally, which I didn't but I know at least one person who did, or getting hit by the subway in the back of the head because you are looking down the tunnel in the wrong direction, which also never happened to me, but did happen to some poor schmuck in NYC just a few days ago. I guess he didn't die but what an idiot, and it's the kind of thing that strikes me as funny, almost funny enough for me to forget that I wish I was sailing fast towards the ground with only seconds to think about what I'd done (or hadn't done) with my life. I think seconds would be plenty of time to figure it out.

Performing isn't even helping, and usually it does. Usually, performing is one of the only things that can so blissfully distract and blind me from anything I don't want to experience, namely life or problems or what have me. But it isn't this time, and I am clueless as to why that might be.

I guess maybe I should give credit to my age. I'm 27. Don't people have breakdowns at this age? I think having a breakdown would be fun - it would give me a chance to say and do everything I always wanted to do and not be held accountable for it, or at least not fully, or at least that is how I imagine it would be in my fantasy. I see myself walking down Broadway. Maybe I'm going to a job interview, or I've just bought a cup of that hot ass chocolate at Starbucks. I'm blowing on the cup, about to take a sip and all of a sudden I drop the cup onto the ground. Starbucks hot chocolate is damn expensive, like 3 bucks a cup or something, but I don't even care, I hardly even notice. I step into it (if this were a made for tv movie, the camera would cut to my foot slopping down into the brown stain on the sidewalk) and continue through it. My feet become loosy goosy, I'm unsure footed, I sort of stagger down the sidewalk and maybe even into the street. A taxi cab beeps his horn at me and I give him the finger. Maybe I jump up on his hood and do a little dance. I think I laugh too, because isn't that what you're supposed to do when you lose your mind? Just laugh, but not in a way that people can laugh with you. They see you laugh like that and they get scared, because they know that you aren't laughing with them, and no one can laugh along with you. You are laughing at a joke with the universe and the universe only. And maybe Jesus.

I hate when I write things like this, because I have a hard time being honest with myself and I like to believe that I have difficulty emoting properly. But what is proper and all that shit, and what is right and who is crazy and bla bla bla!? I think the rules develop in your own brain when you are a little shit and you know and that's all there is to it. Right now, things are not right in my mind with me and me and I don't know if they ever will be. It just seems the older I get, the less I care about living, and it's not even because I'm so depressed and it's not even because my life is so hard, it's because I realize that living is really pretty overrated and for the most part, pretty god damn dumb. I guess that must be what it is like to get old. I remember I asked my grandfather if he was scared to die, and he said, "Scared? Jesus fucking Christ, I can't fucking wait to die!" I'm not paraphrasing here, either. I'm just quoting a brilliant man.

BIG LONG E-MAILS TO PEOPLE ON MY E-MAILING LIST

OLDER BLOG FANS might remember the Believe Chicken e-mails I used to send out. I have decided that I am going to start sending out my e-mails again, even though I don't have a weekly show to promote. I have lots of other shows that could use promoting and some interesting things coming up. If you would like to be added to my weekly e-mail list, please send me an e-mail asking me to add your address. I am posting my e-mail that I sent out to my massive e-mail list on my blog as my entry for today, because you need to read it if you aren't on the mailing list yet but you are interested in shit that I've got coming up. It's not just about me, either, it's about other people and stuff, too. Some of it is a little bit redundant if you read my blog every day, but then again, some of it is not.

HAPPY READING, and get those quarters in.

Remember when I used to send you big long e-mails all the time?

Boy, those were the good old days. Back then, I was the co-host of a great weekly show called, "Believe Chicken." Though the show is gone and our lives have gone on, and many things have changed, one thing that has stayed the same is my massive, massive e-mail list.

If you know me, you know I love to write long, wordy e-mails to friends and strangers alike. If you don't know me, please make a note of the fact that I love to write long, wordy e-mails to friends and strangers alike.

I have a lot of good shows in the works and I want to write you all about it, but first, I am going to be doing a little spring cleaning of my e-mail list cuz it's kind of old. If you want to be taken off of this list, please e-mail me at jessica.delfino@mtvstaff.com and write the most obnoxious e-mail you can. It should say something like this, "Remove me from your e-mail list, I hate you," and my wish will be your command.

For those of you who love my e-mails, read on -

So MUCH stuff has happened in the past 6 months or so. Shit, I hardly know where to begin. My fiance and I broke up (the very talented and lazy Kurtus Metzger) and so that's that. So, if you know me and we haven't spoken for awhile, next time you see me, don't say, "So when's the big date?" Because we're having a hard time deciding on either Notember 57th or Neverember 36th. So, mark your calendars.

I have been updating my website almost daily with fun little blurbs and stories. Wil Wheaton (you might remember Wil Wheaton as the writer in Stand By Me or Wesley Crusher in Star Trek: The Next Generation, or the centerfold in Teen Beat I used to make out with until his face flaked off and the poster got ruined) linked my website to his and helped to make my website (almost) famous and read by blog nerds internationally. Super cool. Thanks, Wil! Thanks, Jesus!

What else, what else? I have been playing songs on stage even though I was warned by Jim Norton that if I ever brought a guitar on stage he would smash my face into a table. I play a genre of music which I like to believe I made up and certainly believe I coined the termage for, which is "Dirty Folk Rock." It is folk-like music with delightful songstressing and lovely melodies paired with dirty, filthy lyrics and dark song topics. (Some of my personal favorites are: "Someone Who Loves Me," a song I am singing to a hypothetical rapist as he is about to try to have his dirty way with me about how I was saving this rape for someone who loves me, as in my boyfriend or Edward Furlong, the current stars of my favorite rape fantasy scenarios, which by the way, include candles, wine and a bubble bath. I also really like "Sudden Change," a song about how women get their periods once a month and that's why we act bitchy sometimes, like you guys didn't know, but you pretend like you don't, so I laid it out for you. The lyrics say it all - "If you're ever feeling unsure about why your girlfriend is acting strange, and you don't understand what brought on the sudden cange - remember - once a month for a week, she BLEEDS from her VAGINA [for Christ's sake, you fuckers! So cut us some slack, dicks!]) I like playing songs on stage in addition to telling jokety jokes and have teamed up with the super-talented and blindingly handsome and charismatic Touching You (affiliated with The (Liquid) Tapedeck - read more about this super-delicious band at www.thetapedeck.com) to create a wonderfully duper demo cd with several hot hot hits, a cover of "Run To The Hills" by Iron Maiden (first recorded for Touching You's "Songs of 9/11" CD) and a piggyback surprise track called, "Fuck The FCC" which is a classic Tapedeck masterpiece. My CD, entitled, "Dirty Folk Rock" sells for $5 and you can purchase it at one of my shows or on my website, www.jessydelfino.blogspot.com. I think you will enjoy it and whether you do or not, please email me at jessdelfino@yahoo.com and tell me what you think of it.

UPCOMING SHOWS:
(I put stars next to MANDATORY shows you HAVE to go to)

Sweet Paprika @ The Village Lantern
Bleecker bt. Thompson & Sullivan
Fri, Jan 9th at 8 PM
hosted by Alison Castillo and Ophira Eisenberg
I think it's free.

***Arlene's Grocery
95 Stanton St.
Tue, Jan 13th @ 8 PM
I'll be opening up for OH MY GOD! who go on at 9. I hear they are very good and The Telephones will be going on at 10 PM. Tickets to the show are $7.

Collective Unconscious
Ludlow bt Stanton & Rivington
Sat, Jan 17th @ 10 PM
I think it's $5 and last time there was free booze and candy
Lubka Bubkova hosts a great line-up of art stars.

Comic Strip
2nd Ave @ 82nd St.
Mon, Jan 19th
Show starts at 8:30 and I think
tickets are like $10 or something.

Rejection Show hosted by Jon Friedman
Wed, Jan 21
The Tank Theater @ 42nd bt 9th and 10th aves.
8 PM
The theme of this show is things that have
been rejected in one forum or another. I
will be doing some readings and perhaps
singing one song.

***Perverted Little Creep Book Release Party
Tue, Jan 27
7-10 PM
Triangulo (675 Hudson St. Buzzer 3N @14th St/9th Ave)
Should be lots of fun - Christopher Brodeur releases
his new (first) book that is mostly made up of compiled
anti-Giuliani essays and transcriptions of his battles with Giuliani
on Giuliani's weekly talk-radio show. It's a terrific book and
I strongly urge you to come, drink free liquor and purchase
a book. Live performances by Corn Mo, The O'Debra twins, ME and
other great guys and gals.

****One Woman Show (STILL UNNAMED)
@ UCB Theater
Mon, Feb 2nd on SPANK! @ 8 PM
Two half hour shows for the price of 1!!!
($5)
I NEED YOU TO BE THERE.
This is for the possibility of a longer-term run at UCB Theater.
I will be playing songs and doing funny sketches and there
will be some interesting surprises. The show hopefully will be
one of my better ones if all goes well within my brain.

All the other shows that aren't starred are going to be great
too, but I guess it's ridiculous to expect you to see every show
I am going to be in! Plus, the shows I've starred feature other
acts so you won't just be seeing me, but other very talented
performers as well.

Now, what else???

Hm...I told you to see my shows, told you about my cd, and told you to
go and visit my website www.jessydelfino.blogspot.com. Also, update your interest in this e-mail list, told you about how me and Kurt are through, what else, what else? My sister is coming to town tonight and I am very excited about that. She is hot and wants to be a model. If anyone can think of anything fun for us to do while she is here, please email me and let me know. Stuff that is free or cheap, preferably, I'm poor. (I know I spelled pref. wrong, and I don't even give. Is it two f's or two r's or both or neither?) If you or a friend would like to be added to this list, please email me at jessdelfino@yahoo.com and tell me to add your shit. I will close off this massive letter with an excerpt from my website and finally, an old Believe Chicken e-mail. You used to love them so. This is kind of interesting: I have a friend who saved every single Believe Chicken e-mail and I will be compiling them into a book. I will probably sell them for cheap, less than $5, so if you want one, let me know.

NOW AN EXCERPT FROM MY WEBSITE FOR YOU TO READ AND ENJOY:

Tuesday, January 06, 2004
A Joke out of the book, "1001 Unfunny Jesus Jokes"
by Jessica Delfino

(Note: For those of you who might not know, "1001 Unfunny Jesus Jokes" is a lesser known book in the bible which has been discontinued in most bibles and used to be located right next to Corinthains.)

Jesus walks into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder. He says to the bartender, "I bet you $2000 you can't get my parrot to tell you it's name."

The bartender says, "Well, what's it's name?"

Jesus says, "Moses."

The bartender says, "I think you owe me $2000 dollars."

Jesus says, "The parrot didn't tell you it's name, I did."

The bartender says, "Oh. You got me. Would you like a drink?"

Jesus says, "Yes."

The bartender says, "What will you be having?"

Jesus says, "A Bloody Mary."

The bartender says, "Will that be a virgin bloody Mary?"

So Jesus says, "Are you calling my mother a whore?"

So the bartender says, "Jesus, no, Jesus."

So then Jesus says, "I am the son of God, God Dammit!"

AND FINALLY, AN OLD BELIEVE CHICKEN E-MAIL:

It's the most chickenist time of the year. There are people getting ready for the day when Jesus was born, or the twelve days that people burn candles, or whatever holiday you celebrate, you silly!

Everyone is hanging chickens from the tree. They're lighting chickens on
fire. They're cutting up chickens and cooking them. They're eating
chickens dipped in mustard sauce. They're frying up chickens in grease.
Chicken, chicken, chicken.

Some people don't like to mix their holidays with Chicken. And some do.
I happen to be one of the ones who DOES. I just mix it up into a big
mayonnaise jar - chicken parts and milk, right to the brim, with a big dose of holidays. Then I screw the lid on good and tight. Then, I put the jar somewhere it won't be found - like the inside of a grate at work or in a hole I dug out in the box spring, between my parent's mattresses. Then, I go about my holiday cheer, and forget about the jar for weeks, maybe even months. Around my birthday, the milk and chicken sitting together have created a chemical reaction that eventually make the jar explode! This is a gift that keeps on giving, long after it's been given. Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh!

HYPOTHETICAL SCENARIO:
Co Worker, Rob: What is that smell?
You: I don't know. It smells like, chicken-y, sort of.
Co Worker, Rob: No, I don't think that's chicken. I think it's a dead
raccoon.
You: No, Bob. I'm pretty sure it's chicken.
Co Worker, Rob: It's Rob.
You: Rob? That's what I said. Rob.
Co Worker, Rob: No, you said Bob. I distinctly heard you say, Bob.
My name is Rob.
You: Rob. Bob. I said Rob. I know what I said. I said Rob. And that
smell is chicken.
Co Worker, Rob: It's not chicken, dammit, it's something else! It's an
animal, dead in the wall, decaying! It's decaying as we speak! It's not
chicken!
You: Maybe it's chicken decaying in the wall.
Co Worker, Rob: It's not chicken! What would chicken be doing decaying in
the wall? That doesn't even make any sense! How could chicken be in the
wall?
You: (long pause as you gain your composure, because you are trying HARD
not to laugh at this point) I don't know.

COME TO BELIEVE CHICKEN! BUT LEAVE YOUR CHICKEN BOMBS AT HOME!

BELIEVE CHICKEN
@ NIGHTINGALE - 13th Street and 2nd Ave (N,Q,R,W,4,5,6,L to Union Square)
Stewardesses of Comedy, delivering your jokes with a smile -
Jessica Delfino & Liz Laufer
EVERY SINGLE STINKIN' THURSDAY, RAIN OR SNOW OR SHINE
FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FREE FRICKITY FREE
HAPPY HOUR DRINK SPECIALS FROM 6-8
SHOW BEGINS 7 PM Sharp

THIS THURSDAY The 12th:
Christian Finnegan (he rocked it on Shecky Eichman yesterday)
Ed Herro (I taught him how to dance)
Betsy Jay (Comedy Mom)
Sharif Corinaldi (First name reminds me of Sherriff)
Gilad Foss (a young Woody Harrelson)
Dane Hammack (visiting from out of town)
Rodney Laney (smells like very un-gay flowers)
Marybeth Murphy (had an interesting aliteration in her name)
Jimmy Sackel (taught me about the Staten Island Ferry, I'll forgive but
never forget)

And many special guests. I don't want to drop names but this show is so
good, Sarah Silverman said she wouldn't be able to make it!!! (overwhelmed
by the pressure)

OKAY! SO, pack up your lunch pails, give your sig o a kiss guh-bye and
trek on over to BELIEVE CHICKEN!!! Yay!!!

Be there. Believe Chicken.

A Joke out of the book, "1001 Unfunny Jesus Jokes" and more Music Reviews
by Jessica Delfino

(Note: For those of you who might not know, "1001 Unfunny Jesus Jokes" is a lesser known book in the bible which has been discontinued in most bibles and used to be located right next to Corinthains.)

Jesus walks into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder. He says to the bartender, "I bet you $2000 you can't get my parrot to tell you it's name."

The bartender says, "Well, what's it's name?"

Jesus says, "Moses."

The bartender says, "I think you owe me $2000 dollars."

Jesus says, "The parrot didn't tell you it's name, I did."

The bartender says, "Oh. You got me. Would you like a drink?"

Jesus says, "Yes."

The bartender says, "What will you be having?"

Jesus says, "A Bloody Mary."

The bartender says, "Will that be a virgin bloody Mary?"

So Jesus says, "Are you calling my mother a whore?"

So the bartender says, "Jesus, no, Jesus."

So then Jesus says, "I am the son of God, God Dammit!"


Another Music Review: Isn't This Fun!!!!!!!???????

NOTE: You might find that in many of my music reviews I repeat myself. That is because everybody sounds the same! So, I have to write the same things over and over. I try to pick reviews that are a bit interesting or funny to read, unfortunately to you, the reader, it probably just seems like you're reading the same review over and over again. Think about how I feel listening to the same song over and over again!

This Song Sounds Like Type O Negative Fucking Led Zeppelin......

...sweating out Metallica scented body odor and perhaps shedding one INXS flavored tear. In other words, your influences are fairly clearly apparent, but I suggest you go out of your way to try not to mimic those you admire. Instead, you might try doing something different and interesting that if your predecessors/idols were to hear, they would say, "Shit - I wish we'd have thought of that!" Please go back to the drawing board and try again. Also - the arrangement is beautiful, but only because other bands did it before and I liked those bands. Finally, your lyrics are empty and bland and overall, this song is fairly boring.

Here's another -

Holy Shit -

Is that a jingle bell? I guess it's different-ish, so you get credit for that. I also like your dischordant sound. Nice overlap of vocals. Interesting so far...darkness will fill you up until you drown in it? Are you a goth band or are you just depressed? You are probably a talented artist who needs a little direction. Check out www.thetapedeck.com and click on brilliant lyrics for more details.
Not so bad. The musical intermission sounds like "Here Comes The Rain Again" by the Eurythmics. Do you like the Eurythmics? I don't know what you mean by asking me to comment on mix. The mood is sad and depressing, I have a feeling that is what you were going for, and the sound, albeit a bit derivitive, is somewhat different and interesting. The lyrics need help, though. Rhyming underrated and overstated is neither inventive or interesting.

SOME OF MY MUSIC REVIEWS, POSTED FOR YOUR PERUSAL

I'm posting a couple of my reviews on here because people are saying my link isn't working. So, here they are, friends. Enjoy. I should have saved some of the replies, they were pretty funny. One country musician who I reviewed unfavorably wrote back, "You suck farts out of your fat momma's asshole."

I guess that means I won?

BAND: Aberrance
SONG: Karma Kills
HOMETOWN: Minneapolis, MN

One word: Boring

The song opens nicely enough but then it gets all gay as soon as the guy starts singing. This 'hard rock' is more like soft, limp rock. You sound like everything else I've ever heard and never wanted to. And when he whispers, it goes from gay to holy lord, this is gay. The music is more rockin than the vocals, but that doesn't make it not boring.

BAND: I.V. (Inner Voices) - (*Note - I didn't make up that name.)
SONG: Raining Roses (*Note - I wish I'd made this song title up.)
HOMETOWN: LA, CA (Hopefully that explains something)

SUPER gay

I know that you are putting your heart and soul into this music, but if your heart and soul are empty then you don't have much to put into it, do you? Are your heart and soul empty? Because by the sounds of this song, the answer is "yes." Try not to be so typical. I heard this song on the radio 15 times today. Did you say, "It's Raining Roses?" Sheesh.

BAND: Faceless Gray
SONG: Far From Perfect
HOMETOWN: Unsure

Um, did you know that the beginning of your song was blatantly ripped off from another band? And your musical stylings, also ripped off? And your vocals? You get the picture. If I were you guys, I would try to do something that hasn't been done, instead of going out of your way to mimic others. Also, the singer's voice albeit slightly endearing, is boring. No need to strain yourself so much, just sing. What is this song about? Ho, hum. You guys will be on the radio within a year, but I don't know if I'd consider that a compliment or not.

Their Reply:

"Your a real asshole dude"

Here's another review (anonymous)

BAND: Unsure
SONG: Unsure
HOMETOWN: Unsure

I'm sorry, but yet again....

....this song lacked any memorable hooks or instrument use or really much of anything interesting.
The beginning pounding was remiscent of Led Zeppelin, the beginning intro tone reminiscent of Jefferson Airplane and then the keyboards screamed, "Rush!" As a matter of fact, that keyboard piece belongs to them. The lead guitar was a rip off of something else, too.

Though I like all of your obvious influences, they did it first, they did it best, they did it better and I think you should try again. This time, try to do something different - try do something that would impress your predecessors not flatter them by how intensely you can imitate them. They do say that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery and that may be true, but you aren't trying to flatter old rock stars, hopefully, you should be trying to make interesting and unique music that will educate and inspire generations for years to come.

In all honesty, I kind of like this song, but it's only because I really love Rush. If you guys were trying to be a cover band, you'd be doing okay, but that's not what you're trying to be....or is it?

You might have noted that all my reviews up to this point have been negative and you might assume that I am a jerk or agree with the country singer guy or think I'm just being a dick. But here is actually ONE favorable review - the only one I've written yet. Again, unfortunately, this one was anonymous. I'm sad, too, because I'd like to hear more of their stuff.

BAND: Unsure
SONG: Unsure
HOMETOWN: Unsure

OK, the lyrics immediately caught my attention

(FUCKING) FINALLY, a song that has both interesting lyrics and a catchy melody. The music was even salty and saucy, which was a nice change [from all the other horseshit I've heard on this site.]

Though there were some reminiscent flavors of perhaps CSNY and Johnny Cash, and Steely Dan undertones even, maybe, there was something very endearing about this song and I would like to hear more of this band's stuff. Really interesting and charming lyrics. I am going to guess you are probably intellectuals, perhaps you went to William and Mary? I wish there were more smart song writers.

Best of luck to you, I hope this song ends up on the radio someday, but I doubt it ever will. It's too good.

Here's the country singer's review I wrote (the one who said I suck farts outta his momma's asshole)

I Don't Generally Like Country Music......

....and one of the reasons why is because EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY SONG starts off just like yours did and sounds exactly like yours does. Try to do something different. Sing with a European accent or something. Are you really from the south or is that just how you're supposed to sing a country song? Try to DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Johnny Cash was interesting and unique. Why can't you be?

*NOTE: INTERESTINGLY - people can rate your reviews of their songs and I either get a 1 or a 5 for every review I write, making spotting the poor sports way too easy.

FIGURATIVE MEAL
by Jessica Delfino

*Note: The reason I call this one "Figurative Meal" is because a Jesus loving pamphlet I came across in the subway said, "Are you spiritually hungry?" And, as even my thoughts are sarcastic, my mental reply was, 'I am kind of spiritually hungry. I could probably go for a figurative meal right about now.' Later, that pamphlet inspired me to write:

FIGURATIVE MEAL

EMCEE
Welcome everyone, to the Women's Collective sponsored by Christ. Here, women come
together in a peaceful, safe environment to discuss issues that are important to women.
If you are spiritually hungry, we will give you a delicious figurative meal. Let's all say
hello to everyone in the way that we do.

EVERYONE (singing as in up the scale)
Hello - hello - hello - hello!

EMCEE
Great. That was terrific.
(Everyone claps and cheers.)

EMCEE
And let's say hello to our new guest, Alice.

EVERYONE
Hello - hello - hello - hello -
(yells out)
Alice!

ALICE
(a bit timid)
Hi.

EMCEE
It is a custom that your first time here, you have to speak first.
So, GO.

ALICE
What should I say?

EMCEE
I can't tell you what to say. Maybe you can ask Christ to tell you.
Or we can all ask Christ to tell her, right, ladies?

LADIES
(nodding, yessing)

EMCEE
Would you like us to ask Christ to tell you what to say?

ALICE
No, no, that's okay, he's probably busy or something. I'll just say
why I came here.

EMCEE
OK, go.

ALICE
I'm here because my pussy is acting funny.

EVERYONE SEEMS TAKEN ABACK.

ALICE
My pussy aches when I get fucked, and I've been geting cramps up in there, and I think I
have cancer in my cunt.

EMCEE
My, goodness. So, your vagin-

ALICE
I prefer you use the word pussy or cunt.

EMCEE
OK, let me understand this, now. Your pubic ar-

ALICE
(interrupting her)
PLEASE!
(pause)
Pussy or cunt.

EMCEE
Are you a christian?

ALICE
Yes, ma'am!

EMCEE
Then you know, my child, that to use certain terms for one's anatomy
is a sin against Christ.

ALICE
Why? He invented man and man invented the words, and now I'm using them.

EMCEE
I am sensing a lot of pain and anger in your voice.

ALICE
Yeah, my pussy hurts, and I'm pissed off.

EMCEE
What would you like me to do for you?

ALICE
Please, pray for me.

EMCEE
Would you like to lead us in prayer?

ALICE
No, you, please.

EMCEE
Um, okay. Dear God, please let Alice feel better. She is hurting, Lord.

ALICE
(meekly)
In my pussy.

EMCEE
She is hurting badly and she needs a spiritual shower to wash away
the pain.

ALICE
Make sure he knows, the pain is in my pussy.

EMCEE
Please, Lord. Make the pain go away.

ALICE
The pain in my pussy!

EMCEE
In your name we pray, amen.
OK, who would like to go next?

BETH
I would.

EMCEE
OK, wonderful. Let's all say hello to Beth.

EVERYONE
Hello hello hello hello - BETH!

EMCEE
What would you like to talk about, Beth?

BETH
My asshole is itching a lot lately. Does that mean I have cancer in my asshole or
is it probably just from having too much anal sex?

MUSIC REVIEWS
by Jessica Delfino

I used to write music reviews for mtv.com back in college. I also wrote for a few shitty local music newspapers in the South Jersey/Philadelphia area. If you have ever heard the radio in that city then you can only imagine what the bands that come out of there sound like.

Anyway, a friend referred me to this website called Garageband.com. You can go onto it and write reviews of people's music. I love writing reviews because I love being able to honestly emote, or more honestly, I enjoy being mean sometimes. Sorry, but it's true. So many people have been mean to me that I guess I have no choice but to give it back. I'm trying to save myself and all that shit.

So, if you like to listen to music and write reviews, check this out. I think I'll end up also putting my songs on this website, for, as you might have already discovered, the link to my 'songs' page is not working anymore because the site that was hosting my songs went out of business or whatever.

If you are curious, here are some reviews I wrote for other people's songs. I would like to add that, though I do enjoy being honest and mean, honesty is the key element of any review I write. I don't do this because I like to. OK, well, maybe I do, but I also am honest about this stuff because I do believe it is important to be. I have gotten some very brutally harsh and cruel reviews and feedback and I must say that it only has ever helped me to want to be better and work harder. Criticism, even cruel feedback, isn't unwarranted and it isn't inappropriate, especially if someone really does suck.

http://www.garageband.com/review/results.html?|pe1|Z9-YInTRosb-NFy2YWpkAp43Nw

Special Thank You To Cincinnati Kevin

Hi Kevin. Jessica Delfino here, writer and creator of Jessy Delfino's blog. On New Year's Day I came in around 4:45 am. I was drunk, I admit it. I was even a little stoned, I think. As I was walking into the apartment building, the doorman handed me an immense pile of mail. I dug through the mail and among all the pieces of shit mail and bills I'd gotten, I found a tiny white envelope addressed, Project 25. Now, this isn't unusual. I recieve Project 25 envelopes every single day, sometimes so many, I have to ask neighbors to help me to carry them into my apartment in a wheel barrow (is it wheel barrow or wheel barrel?). But this envelope was special, as it was return addressed from Cincinnati Kevin. My heart soared with joy and delight at the fact that one of my regular readers had taken a moment to send me a quarter. Upon further inspection, it appeared that the bottom right hand corner of the envelope had been torn open, and the quarter was gone.

I got sad, but only for a second, as you see, dear readers, and Kevin, Project 25 is a metaphor. Of course I love quarters, and who doesn't? And of course I need quarters, and who doesn't? But, even more than loving and needing quarters, I love and need for everyone in the world to love and need me to make art. By sending the envelopes in, quarterful or quarterless, I get a better picture of how many art lovers there are in the world and, even more important, how many of those art lovers want me to make art.

Every quarter I get goes into a big jar and every envelope I have recieved gets put into an album. When the project is complete (when I recieve 3 million quarters) I will take the quarters down to the bank and cash them in for a 3 million dollar bill. One of the first projects I am going to do is turn the album of envelopes into a book. Cincinnati Kevin, you will be in the album. Way to be a part of history! And thanks for making me happy first thing on New Year's Day.

Hope you all had a chance to smile on New Year's Day and if you didn't, don't worry about it. Smiles are only temporary anyway.

My New Year's Resolution Is To Not Make Any More Resolutions
by Jessica Delfino

I am not making any resolutions this year because every time I make a resolution I fail miserably at keeping it.

Resolutions are for people with time and money. I have no time, I have no money. You know what I do have? I have some shitty thrift store clothes and a second hand guitar. I have a couple of zany newspaper boy caps and a few sweat stained tee-shirts. I have a small apartment filled with things I found in the garbage. And as far as time goes, shit, I don't have that either. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow. But I probably won't because that would make my life too easy.

I think this year I'm going to do something different and make non-resolutions which might be more appropriate to my life-situation. Like, for example, I non-resolve to try to wake up before noon anymore. That's a double negative (in its' way) so it makes the resolution nullified, as if it were opposites day.

So, without further a don't (get it?) here are my New Year's NON-resolutions.

I non-resolve to lose weight.
I non-resolve to not be a flake.
I non-resolve to date men who are successful and worthy of me.
I non-resolve to take showers every day.
I non-resolve to not be poor anymore.
I non-resolve to get a corporate job.
I non-resolve to love my enemies.
I non-resolve to forgive Kurt Metzger for fucking my ex-dear friend, Gina Savage.
I non-resolve to be less selfish.
I non-resolve to take better care of myself emotionally, physically, mentally.
I non-resolve to quit smoking.
I non-resolve to be a better person.

WOW - holy shit. I feel so much better right now. Phew. I made all these non-resolutions in earnest and I really believe I am going to stand by them. I've got a good feeling about this year! Zippidee-whee!

CHALLENGE WINNER and A BIT OF BACK HISTORY REGARDING ONCE HAVING BEEN A KLEPTOMANIAC
by Jessica Delfino

OK, I am going to award Joe with my pretty new shiny free CD for his reply to the Delfino/Flavorpill Challenge.

His answer was as follows:

I would be Edgar Bubblewrapbutt. Then every time a woman would pinch my ass it would make that fun popping sound. As much as folks can't resist popping bubblewrap, imagine how many chicks would line up just to pinch my ass! What the hell, guys line up too. I'm confident in my heterosexual-bubblewrap-ity.

Congratulations, Joe. Please e-mail me and tell me where to send it.

I'd like to give a runner-up honorable mention to Echocat because I really like the idea of being able to sniff white out all day long at a boring day job. That's my kind of party.

All the rest of you - if this was an advertising agency, you'd all be fired. Me, too. I didn't win my tickets. I guess that means I suck. But I get the last laugh - I've already seen Edward Scissorhands. I just like to get things for free. Who doesn't?

I've gotten lots of great shit for free. But when I say free, I mean free of monetary payment. Everything, unfortunately, usually has a price of some kind. I have gotten several free computers from several different men with crushes on me. One guy gave me a computer then he indian gave it to me when he realized computer or not, we weren't fucking. I should have just refused to accept it, but it was really awesome to be given a computer, especially when you don't have one, which I didn't. Plus, he pretended it was a Christmas present. This was several years ago - I guess I was 22. So young and naive. And dumb.

Then, I got a computer from my friend Victor who is just an awesome friend. He had bought a new computer and he gave me his old one. It was a few years old and really not worth too much to him anymore but the sentiment was stellar. He didn't even have a crush on me or anything. Most of the gifts I get are usually in affiliation with someone wanting to have sex with me which really bugs me.

NOTE: If you want to give me something, don't expect me to have sex with you. I might have sex with you because I want to have sex with you, but not because you are giving me something. Also, by you, I mean the proverbial "you." And not you, or you, or you, guy in the back.

I got a laptop from a friend of mine who has a lot of faith in my writing ability. He was a rich old guy who owned a company that got sold and he just swiped a few laptops as gifts for friends and relatives. It was old but nice and yes, he wanted to fuck me. Even old guys - god dammit!

When I was younger, guys used to give me stuff for free all the time. Now that I am older, I am less inclined to accept such gifts because I know that free is a synonym, or perhaps I daresay a sin-o-nym.

I will, however, accept free meals on almost all occasions because I love to eat out at restaurants but don't have the money to do that so often. So, someone has to be either a huge slimeball or just have really bad timing for me to not take them up on a free hot lunch. And I don't mean the sexual innuendo hot lunch that Sylvester Stallone is said to engage in from time to time, and by time to time, I probably mean every day for all I or anyone else knows, for that matter.

I will also accept free advice or tips or compliments, always. And media. I love to find free magazines at the doctors office or the dentist's office. I guess technically, that's stealing, but hey, I didn't say how it becomes free or if that matters. Free is free, stolen or paid for.

I used to be a kleptomaniac when I lived in Maine. It's sad but true. In my small, no future for kids who stay there town of Damariscotta, there was nothing to do. We would walk down to the back town boat landing and throw rocks at horse shoe crabs, we would smoke in a barn in an abandoned construction lot, we would walk around like little sluts and talk to guys who were a lot older than us. We would disobey our parents and drink beer in various friend's cars and at people's houses where there wasn't any parental supervision. It was only a matter of time before I learned that I could get things for free if I simply put them in my pocket. I remember the first thing I ever stole. It was a bag of kitty treats for my kitty. I was 9 or 10. My mom and I had gone to the grocery store and I asked her if she would buy them for me to give to my kitty, Rags. She said no, so I just put them in my pocket. When we got home, I tried to feed them to my cat, but she didn't like them. She turned her little kitty nose at them and walked away. So, I picked them up and put them in my desk drawer. Later, my mom came in and looked in my desk for a pen. She found the kitty treats and beat hell into me. She was so pissed.

But did I stop there? No. A year or so later, my two friends and I were out cruising the streets on foot and we came upon the town hamburger shack (this was before McDonald's had bought it's way into town) and hid behind it to smoke A cigarette - one per the three of us. As we were back there rattling around, my one friend who was like an investigative little cat, jumped up on the ledge and looked in through the window and noticed the window was unlocked. She opened it and climbed in. While she was shimmying her little body through the window, I turned the door handle and opened it right up as her feet were smacking onto the ground on the other side. We went in and walked around the 10x10 space, scoping out what might be worth taking. There were some boxes of soda and chips and we carried them back to her house and munched out. Her boyfriend, who was like 16 and is now dead (he died in a drunk driving accident when he was maybe 19 or 20) was storing his Camaro in her garage. We sat in his Camaro and ate chips and drank soda and listened to the radio and smoked another cigarette or two. We really knew how to party. We decided to split up the soda and chips and take them home, telling our parents that one of us was going to have a party and bought all the stuff and then the party got cancelled so the treats were given away. I took mine home and told my mom the story, and it worked. We sat and ate chips and drank soda and laughed and had a great time on the front porch, watching the sun set. It was very easy to entertain ourselves back in the day, especially in a town with so little going on as Damariscotta. I prayed inside that my mom never find out the true story about the chips because I knew she would murder me if she did. As we were eating the chips, the phone rang and my mom went to get it. I could tell it wasn't good because, well, you know how you can listen in on the open end of a phone conversation and just know if it's good or not. A few minutes later my ass was red and I was crying, chips everywhere. What happened was the girl with the dead boyfriend and Camaro in her garage, she bragged to her step-mom about what we had done, and she called mine and the other girl's parents and ratted us out.

From there, things got more elaborate. My friend Rachel and I would steal make up from Waltz Rexall and then go home and dump it out on my bedroom floor, pouring over the items we had stolen and trading various colors and pieces. We would steal cigarettes from the Puffin Stop or Maritime Farms gas stations where they just kept them right out in front on the counter for any sticky fingered punk to help themselves to.

My friend Robin got a car and we began to take our thievery on the road. We would drive to Brunswick and steal jeans from Sears. We even stole our prom dresses that year. We would just put them on under whatever we were wearing and walk out of the store with them. There were no security tags or anything back then and it was like Sears was begging us to rob them with their blind trust of everyone.

I almost sort of got busted once though, when we went to Ames in Wiscasset. I painted my fingernails with some pink polish and put it back down in place. As I was walking out the door I got stopped by a snaggle-toothen froofy haired security bitch who really looked like she was just a white trash shopper. They had really nailed the part when they hired her. She took me up into a little glass room and searched me. She found nothing on me and so she let me call my boyfriend, who at the time was Steve the fisherman who drove a Ford pick-up truck, to come and get me as I was a minor, but I was living with Steve, which made Steve my legal guardian. (My father had already given up on me and kicked me out at this point - I think I was 16.) She then took me downstairs and we got what we thought was the bottle of nail polish I'd painted my fingers with, in addition to three other bottles just in case the one we'd picked wasn't it. Steve had to buy them all for me, they were 2.88 each. He was not happy. He didn't talk to me all the way home.

All my friends were little kleptos, too. Man, I could go on and on with this, I have so many childhood thief stories but I think I've told so many strangers enough personal depressing information about myself. I guess this is part of the reason I am the way I am today. I'd probably be a piece of trash if I weren't so smart and sophisticated. Thank God for that, then.

FLAVORPILL CHALLENGE - More like Delfino Challenge

There is an event listings e-mail that I get every week with fun things to do around the city. It is called "Flavorpill." I used to write for them. One thing that makes their
e-mail so cool is that they ask you questions and if they like your answers, they'll
give you free tickets to see shows. This was their question for the midnight showing
of Edward Scissorhands at the Sunshine Theater, and my reply.

Tell us which office supply you would want permanently implanted in your body.
Our favorite six answers each win a pair of tickets to this film.

It might be cool to have stapler hands - Edwin Staplehands. Then if someone
was shit talking you could staple their mouths shut. And if someone was
eating too much holiday food, you could staple their tongues to the roofs
of their mouths. And if someone was being a slut - well, you get the idea.

So.....let's see if I win. I won tickets to see Marc Maron's one man show once with an answer I sent in. I'd be interested to see what other answers might have been.
Write your answers in my bulletin board section and my favorite answer will get
a free copy of my brand new awesome CD.

Who Makes Things That I Invent?
by Jessica Delfino

I have a bunch of ideas for inventions but nowhere to send them. I don't have any idea how anything gets made.

I guess the first thing I need is a mock up of some kind. How do I get that? Do I have to go to The Art Institute of New York's tool and dye program and get someone to make a mold for me? Or is tool and dye even a thing that people do anymore?

Then, I have one. So I take that one to companies? To the bank? I show it to them and say, hey, you don't know me. You wanna give me a bunch of money so I can make this? Or maybe I try to find someone who's rich, I dunno - pick him up in a bar or something. Pretend I just hang out at the 4 Seasons bar all the time and saunter over, asking him to light my cigarette, because in the 4 Seasons hotel bar you CAN smoke, because rich people can do whatever they want to.

Then, say he gives me a bunch of money to make this project - after I've finished blowing him or whatever it is I have to do to get him to say he'll give me the money. Because men don't just give you money to make things when you're a girl unless there's something in it for them - more money or some pussy or the opportunity to run for some kind of political office or meet a celebrity. I'm walking out with some kind of business plan, wiping his semen off my lips. Then where do I go from there?

I'll tell you where - I guess I make a phone call to a friend maybe who has friends who live in some third world country or in China or Tibet or Chile and I say, hey, get your friend to hook us up with a group of children who are interested in making $2.50 a day, wait - it's Christmas - $3.50 a day. So he makes some calls, the only reason he does this is because we used to have sex and he used to enjoy it very much, or perhaps he thinks there might be something in it for him - money or someone else's pussy (he already had mine) or the opportunity to run for some kind of political office or meet a celebrity. Sure enough, he finds a warehouse in the back brush of some country I didn't even know existed and offers them $3.50 a day. Well, of course they leap at the prospect of making that kind of money and insist on starting the project a day earlier than whatever day I want to start, and will work for free that day because they are so glad to be working at all. I say, no, I have to pay you for that day, because what's $3.50 to me? It's a milkshake or a pair of vintage gold shoes I will buy from some homeless guy on the sidewalk.

A week later, they have made 40,000 of my gazmos and are carrying them to America by hand on a ship where they have to sleep in three inches of water every night. When they get here, they are drenched but the merchandise is dry because it got to sit in the beds where there is no water.

I pay some man with a van a hundred dollars to go and pick up the shipment and drop it off in my living room. I open up an account on Ebay or Amazon.com and take a digital photo with my new camera. I put the pic up and people start buying them like crazy, at $4.50 a pop.

Before I know it, I'm rich. I give the fat rich man back the money I 'borrowed' from him but I actually had earned it, and I buy a house in Connecticut and one in Belize and one in San Francisco, in addition to the condo I relocate to in Manhattan.

I hire people to come over and run errands for me and do work on the condo. I make them work naked. They will do whatever I ask them to because I will pay top dollar just to have my every wish be their command.

Soon, I sell so many gazmos, IBM or Hasbro comes to me and says, HEY! We want to buy the blueprint for your gazmos and we'll give you a few million bucks, what say you? And I say, no. Then they come back and say, HEY! We'll give you a few million more bucks, what say you? And I say, no. Then, they come back and say, HEY! We'll give you a billion bucks and a car and a house and a man and a pair of gold earrings and you can star in a movie and we'll make it so that you are the first female to fly into a black hole or, whatever you want, we can make it happen. So I say, OK. Then, I buy my mom a house and my sisters and send my siblings and cousins to college and maybe I start a trust fund for poor people.

Ahhhh - all thanks to a great little idea I had in a dream. But I didn't do any of that. I still have my inventions. They are in my head and they will stay there forever and one day I'll be dead and my inventions will be dead, too, dead and buried with my head. Because I won't ever get to make them, because I don't invent shit and I don't know how to make a millionaire worship me and give me money and even if one did, I'd be too grossed out to take advantage of that.

Guess I'll just stick to working my shitty temp jobs and writing out my fantasies out on my blog.

Christmas Bump and Grind
by Jessica Delfino

This story is not about how much I hate Christmas or getting laid on Christmas or anything like that. It's much more dyer and sincere.

I have been noticing lately that more and more people are just crashing into me when they walk. Just because it's Christmas doesn't mean it's okay for everyone to slam into me when they are sauntering down the street. I try not to take it personally, but I can't help but wonder - if I was 6 feet 5' 300 pound black man, would people still be jabbing me as they pass by? The answer is a probable no. Unless they themselves were a 6 feet 5' 300 pound black man.

Is it that hard to look around and know how far away the person near you to your right or left is and not smack into them with elbows or hips or purses or shopping bags or shoulders? Every time I go outside I am getting checked by strangers. And what did I do to deserve it? I'll tell you what - nothing. NOTHING!

I think it might have something to do with the fact that everyone is out in full force, shopping and what not and everyone is anxious to hurry up and get done shopping and then hurry up and get home. But for the love of Christ, after all, it is his birthday, don't bump into me, fuckers.

Sometimes I accidently bump into random people. I am usually never walking anywhere without carrying a guitar and a purse, sometimes also a bag of clothes that I have purchased at the Stuyvesant Thrift Store on 2nd Ave near 88th Street or a baggie with a soda and a buttered bagel in it or what have me. But when I do, I usually turn around and say, "Oh, sorry," or "Didn't see you there," or "What the fuck are you gonna do about it, bitch?" That's what you call manners. Ever heard of 'em, fuck wads?

In short, I'm only ever so slightly guilty of doing that myself. But I usually don't do it. If someone rams into me for some reason it always pisses me off. I want to turn around to them and scream, "Hey, fucker! Did you not see me here? I'm 5'9", dammit! I'm pretty, too! I'm tall and pretty, fuck head!" Maybe that is why I get checked so much. People don't like to see tall pretty girls walking uninterrupted. But I'm pretty in a way that makes me not intimidating to people. I'm pretty in a way where men think they could get some easily and women think I'd steal their boyfriends because I look like I might be insecure. I don't know if that's true or not, I'm just um...hypothesizing.

I usually don't scream. Instead, I just scowl. Scowl, and sometimes frown. Frown, and sometimes get bitter. Then, I see someone who is small and susceptible to a jabbing, preferably someone who is old and crippled and whammo! They don't even know what hit them!

Is that fair? How many old cripply-bears do I have to take down on the streets before New York gets it? Respect eachother's personal space and keep your fucking elbows down when you are walking around - if not to boost your own levels of goodwill towards your fellow man or woman, for the sake of people who are smaller and weaker than I.

Consider this a public fucking service announcement, assholes. Thank you and God bless.

Things She Thought
by Jessica Delfino

"I don't know, I guess I like Diet Coke alright," she said as she swirled the contents of the cup around in her mouth. She only came to this thing to get the money that they give you for sitting through it and honestly didn't give a shit about Diet Coke or who their target market was or if she was involved in that market, which she was, or the fact that in 15 years she wouldn't be involved in that market anymore.

"OK." The man seemed very interested in every word she said. He wrote it down on a clipboard and nodded, his mouth partially open, his bottom teeth, crooked, peeking up over his bottom lip. "OK. Great," he said again after a minute. He turned his face back up toward her and stared at her intently, waiting for her to say anything else. She wanted to say something to freak him out. You know, ask him about his family or pretend to be a psychic for a second and give him a vague prediction about something that could have been true maybe and then spend the rest of the afternoon wondering if he was wondering about the prediction.

But she didn't. Instead, she took his cue and answered properly. "It's not my favorite kind of soda," she said.

"OK, then, what is?" He asked.

"I sort of like Fresca," she said.

"Mm-hmm...." he muttered and began scribbling again. He was left-handed which was kind of weird to her. She hadn't known many left-handeds in her life and no one in her family was a lefty. Left-handeds are weird, she thought to herself. She thought they were weird because when they wrote it seemed like their whole body wrapped around their left hand, like a mother trying to teach her child to ride a bike, as if it took more effort to use your left hand to write something. But there's no reason it would, is there? She thought about Leonardo Da Vinci and how she learned from her art teacher in grammar school that he could write perfectly using both hands. She remembered when she heard that thinking to herself, "So?"

Then, she went home that night and practiced for an hour writing her name with her left and her right hand, just to see if she could do it. Well, she couldn't. Everything that she wrote came out looking like she was writing it while riding on a train or a bus, some mode of public transportation, but not in a car. It would have been messier if she had been in a car, because the center of gravity is smaller and there's more shaking.

She finished her small plastic cup of soda and wondered what the guy interviewing her had wanted to be when he grew up. Certainly not a guy who asks questions about soda. Right? Certainly not. Right? She wanted to ask him but thought it might be rude. Maybe he would get mad and feel insulted and for some reason end the interview and not pay her her stinking $85 bucks that she needed so so badly. She always needed money. She didn't grow up rich. She had to sometimes do soda interviews and occasionally would even go on dates to get the free dinner. "It's no big deal," she told herself as she'd be putting on her make up, getting ready to go out on some poor dickwad's dime who she was never going to lay. "It's kind of like getting a free sample of hair spray when you buy shampoo, or getting a free toothbrush with a tube of toothpaste the way they do sometimes," she reasoned with her conscience.

"Is it?" her conscience asked back. "Or is it kind of slutty?" Hm. "Well, who cares?" she told her conscience. "If it is kind of slutty, it's worth the amount of sluttiness it might kind of be. He's not getting to fuck me. And I never get to go out to eat. And he wants to take me out." Hm. "O-kay," her conscience sung to her in a sing-songy cadence. "Let's hope he isn't one of those guys who puts shit in your drink and rapes you and then falls asleep like nothing happened while you have nightmares all night and then wake up in the morning unsure of where you are with no panties on."

She stared at the guy and he stared back at her. He had those kind of glasses that were so thick that they make your eyes bulge a little bit, make you look kind of buggy. But he was kind of cute, even with the big bulgy bug eyes. He was tan, which was weird, because he didn't look ethnic, he looked Swedish or something. She thought of the word in her head, 'Swedish' - was there one e or two? One, she thought. But it seems like there should be two, she thought. But he was cute, and he seemed pretty young, like maybe 34. He was probably married. He probably made okay money at this shitty job.

"Do you like your job?" she asked him. He seemed taken aback, surprised that she had said something that didn't relate to soda. "Yeah," he said, looking down at the clipboard. "I like it. It's good." She didn't believe him. She had read somewhere that the way that people look, like the direction that they look in or whatever when they are talking to you tells you a lot about that person. It tells you if they feel nervous, or if they are scared, or if they are lying, or if they are thinking. Detectives probably know all about that kind of stuff, she thought. But she couldn't remember the directions and which one meant lying. She thought it was to the right, maybe, but he'd looked down. Maybe he wasn't lying. Maybe she was just overly sensitive and too critical and maybe a little judgmental. But who the hell wasn't?

"Are you married?" she asked him. "No," he said. "Do you want to take me out to dinner later?" she asked. He didn't answer right away. "It's just that I thought maybe you liked me," she offered. "Oh, well, I do, you seem very nice," he said. "It's just that, well, I don't date women," he said. "Oh," she said. "You mean, like, you're gay?" He smiled warmly. "No, I'm not gay," he answered. "I just don't date women."

Later in the evening, she got out of the shower. She dried her hair with a towel which her mother had sent her for Christmas a few years back. It was a nice towel with her name embroidered into the terrycloth. "Stacie" it said, as if she didn't know her own name. She picked up the phone and dialed the chinese place on the corner. She knew the number by heart.

"China King?" the lady answered as if she were asking a question. "Hi, can I get a small mixed vegetables with brown rice and garlic sauce on the side?" she asked. But she already knew the answer. The answer was yes.

SUBWAY PARTY
by Jessica Delfino

I went to a subway party last night. Were you there? It was fucking insane.

If you've never been to a subway party, I'm about to tell you all about it. I'd heard of a subway party but never been to one, though my friend and I tossed around the idea of having a comedy show on a subway car but I doubt that would have been even half as successful.

We met at Blarney Stone down near the World Trade Center at 10:30ish on Friday night. There was a huge crowd of people outside of the bar milling around waiting for instructions. That's one thing I love about instruction-based performance art in New York - people will actually follow the instructions. They will show up toting whatever was asked to be brought, if anything, and await further directions. A lot of the people who attend these type of events are either artists themselves or trustafarians, I think, though so that may or may not affect why they are so eager to be led.

Around 11 I guess, (I was pretty drunk having gone to two other parties between 7 and 10 pm so I wasn't sure of the time) the crowd started moving and I, too, followed along. We poured down into the 6 line and overflowed the subway platform. When the train came everyone started cheering and I'm not certain, but I bet we filled almost every car on the train with the amount of people who were there. The fun thing about the party was that there were regular people on the train who were just trying to get home, and then all of a sudden there was this party on top of in front of and all around them, complete with liquor and beer being recklessly chugged and pot being smoked like crazy. It was like what I imagine it is like to ride the subway on new year's eve around 1 am. Complete and utter fun mayhem.

We took the 6 to Union Square and transferred onto some other train. I think we lost a few people there. We took whatever train we got on to Brooklyn. I am not sure where we were headed - some people said Levins or something, but when Levins came everyone chanted, "Don't get off the train!" I think it was that stop. I should have written this stuff down because I am having a hard time remembering the details. The train kept going further into Brooklyn and at this point it was a full on party. Someone with a boom box started blasting music and there was also the Hungry Marching Band somewhere but I wasn't in the same car as them. Booze and pot and cigarettes were being consumed everywhere and people were crowd surfing and it was a pretty crazy party, needless to even mention the fact that it was on a subway car and many of us were totally breaking the law in public.

Unfortunately, when people break the law in public, sometimes they get arrested which is exactly what happened to one or two people once we reached Atlantic Avenue, I'm pretty sure it was Atlantic. The train stopped for a long time and we couldn't figure out whether we were supposed to get off or not. Finally, everyone started filing off and there right in front of us, a cop was cuffing some kid. Everyone started chanting, "Let him go!" The cop (who was black, by the way, arresting a white kid, just in case anyone was wondering) turned to face the crowd and pulled out a canister of mace, threatening to spray the people in the front. I started getting a little bit panic-y because I am sort of a pussy in those kind of situations and I was hanging out with Touching You who is a known instigator and scofflaw. I was afraid he was going to try to insite some kind of riot or try to verbally attack the cops, call them pigs or something. But he was surprisingly well-behaved and except for a few little practically innocent digs, he left the coppers alone.

We walked out of the platform and up to the sidewalk, and half the party had been misplaced. Maybe more than half, actually. They either went further into Brooklyn to the actual designated destination or they went home or they got lost, who knows. So the crowd that was left went to Hank's Saloon to regroup and drink. We only ended up sticking around for a few minutes. At that point it was late and the party just didn't have the same kind of energy and charm that it did when it was on rails.

If you ever hear anything again about a subway party, I strongly recommend you go. It's probably a little bit dangerous for all those drunk people to be running around on the subway platform and in-between subway cars and there's a small chance you might get arrested, but when was the last time you got arrested for having fun and being involved in a massive public art project? It's probably been awhile.

TWO PEOPLE WHOSE RELATIONSHIP IS VAGUE TO THE READER HAVE AN ARGUMENT

"You're a cunt."
"No, YOU'RE a cunt."

(pause)

"What is your fucking problem?"
"You are my fucking problem."
"You have been an asshole to me since the day I met you. What do you have against me?"
"Everything. You think you are so great and you are probably the most annoying person I've
ever met."
"But what exactly did I do to make you hate me so much?"
"Does it matter? The fact remains that I hate you."
"Yes, we both are well aware of that. But why not clue me in on what it is I've done to make
you harbor such resentment for me?"
"I don't harbor anything for you. When you aren't around, I don't even think about you. It's
when I see you that I remember I hate you."
"Oh."
"Yeah. So, fuck off."
"I was here first."
"This is the kind of thing that you do that I think is so annoying."
"What?"
"This thing exactly."
"What thing?"
"This thing you're doing right now."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Never mind, forget it. You know what I'm talking about."
"No, I don't."
"You know what? It doesn't matter anyway. You and I are never going
to get a long and let's just leave it at that."
"OK."
"Good. I'm glad we finally agree on something."
"It doesn't matter to me one way or the other."
"Me neither, really."
"Yeah, sure. I bet you would probably like to be friends with me deep down,
it's just that you have this stupid ego level to maintain and anger inside of
you which you can't let dissipate for feelings you have towards me that you
can't even articulate."
"I barely understood what you just said."
"You understood me."
"Maybe if you spoke in actual words that normal people use I could understand
you better."
"Maybe if you weren't so uptight and rigid you could make sense of what I'm saying."
"Are you calling me uptight?"
"Yes, I am. And I just did."
"I'm not uptight."
"You are."
"Fuck you."
"Noted."
"So, are we finished?"
"Yes, I think so."

(pause)

"Do you want to have a cigarette?"
"No thanks, I don't smoke."
"Since when?"
"Since never."
"Oh."
"Well, I guess I should be going."
"I don't care."
"I know. I said it more for me than for you."
"Oh. Well, whatever."
"Whatever to you, too."

NOTES and JOKES and QUOTES and BOASTS

So, what's up, you guys? It's been a long time since we've talked. I've been pretty busy, I've got lots of stuff going on because I'm so busy. I hate when people say that, it sounds so self-important. "I've been seewwww busy, you don't even know! God!" But it's true, and I have.

I have just finished my new CD which I am so happy with. It has 8 songs on it - a few new songs, a few polished up versions of some hits and a few nice surprises. I had a lot of help from Touching You, who is one of the most creatively talented people I've ever met, and then it all goes downhill from there. Just kidding, but I'm not, really.

For those of you who are interested in purchasing the CD, you may follow the same directions posted on my BUY A CD link. I am so proud of it and I think that you will like it, too, if you are into Dirty Folk Rock, and maybe even if you aren't into Dirty Folk Rock. It's also got a really nice insert with some beautiful photo art. And Christmas is coming and you can buy some for people as a cheap Christmas gift which is great and all, but I'd really rather you buy it for people because they deserve to experience and sample some of the great art, music and creative miscellanea that is being made in New York City right now, some of which was made by me and my friends.

I will be performing at Arlene's Grocery at 8 pm on January 13th too, so if you buy a CD and you love it, come and see the show. I will be opening up for a band called "Oh My God!" and I hear they are great.

Hmm....what else? I wrote a new song which isn't on the CD but it's a hit, it's called "Someone Who Loves Me" and it's about the female rape fantasy. Many women claim to have a rape fantasy but really they just want to be made passionate love to by someone who they are in love with. Most women are not loved properly by the men who they date and it manifests itself as a rape fantasy, where they desire to be ravished by the men who they are in love with. They don't really want to be raped the way rapists like to rape people. They don't want to be hit in a face by a shitty sweat smelly guy and dragged into an alley semi-unconscious. So, I wrote a song about it. It's me singing to my assailant, telling him yes, I admit, I do have a "rape" "fantasy", but I was saving that rape for someone who loves me, not him.

People have been responding to it fairly well, I guess more men than women, and several men have approached me and say that they really appreciate the song and it speaks to them on several personal levels, but I think that they were all just men who secretly want to rape me. And by rape, I mean make passionate love to.

What else? What else? The Comedy Kabob is back up and running, now at The Pussycat Lounge, which is a go-go bar downtown. I heard that there is actually going to be go-go dancing after the show. I don't know how that's going to be but generally the Kabob is great and I recommend everyone go check it out at least once. Tim Brennan runs the show and has lots of comics on the show who are both up and comers and down and outers and everything in between. Some of the jokes you'll hear are stinkers and some are keepers, but you will definitely have fun and see some great performers.

Um....I performed at Collective Unconscious last night in a Garage Opera. It was fronted by a guy named Nico with Mikey McCue as lead vocalist and Touching You on bass, Frank on drums and the other guy on guitar. I forgot his name. But they were all really great. I came in half way through and sang a few duets and some single stuff with Mikey and it was pretty bizarre. Thank god we got it on video tape. The name of the band is Born On Arrival and there is a story behind it - an old man falls in love with a young beautiful talentress. The girl is torn between being in love with the old guy and being young and stupid. Her sister (me) is trying to tell her to leave him behind. It's weird and interesting and chaotic and melodic and I recommend the next time Born On Arrival performs you should check it out. Nico used to front the band NARB and is a regular performer at Collective Unconscious. You might love BOA and you might hate it, but it is worth seeing one time.

I also saw a show at PS 122 last night - I'm not so into seeing dance but I saw Chris Elam and the Misnomer Dance Theater. I liked what they did, it was as close to clumsy as you can get and still be graceful. There was a lot of pulling and mushing and twisting and anti-dance elements. It was very child-like and sweet and there were moments that were also very erotic. I don't know much about dance so it is hard for me to elaborate or eloquently describe or explain what I saw or what it meant, so I'll just say I liked most of it and found it to be inspiring on some level. It made me want to dance. I briefly studied ballet and it made me feel like I should have stuck it out. The problem is that my body is so round and I'm so curvy and hippy that I felt ridiculous dancing as a ballerina. I felt like while everyone else was lean and long and slipping gently around the room, I was just flaunting my hot body everywhere. I was a much better go-go dancer. I learned a lot of pole tricks. I actually plan to use go-go dancing in an interpretive go-go dance at some point. I'll get around to it. One of my many projects that I need your quarters to be able to make happen.

Which reminds me - if you haven't sent a quarter, send one in. Call it a Christmas present, call it a phone call you won't be able to make, call it loose change, but call it mine and send it to me. I need your quarters to make lovely projects come to life such as more Dirty Folk Rock and interpretive go-go dancing and lots of other stuff I would be happy to discuss with you if you inquire to where your quarter is going. I'll even tell you which project your quarter is getting used in. Send all quarters to me at:

230 W. 55 St. #23D
NY, NY 10019

Unfortunately, due to the huge amount of quarters I have the potential of receiving, my friend and legal advisor has recommended that I reneg the offer to send a thank you letter to each individual person who sends me a quarter because it will cost more than I will make, and I'll be back to square one. That is why he is a lawyer and I am an artist. In an unrelated related comment, he is also jewish. So instead, I will send you an e-mail thanking you for the quarter, so make sure to include your e-mail address.

I guess that's it for now. I'm getting sued by my landlady and stuff, but that's not really interesting. I went to court yesterday and sat there for a few hours and wrote a bunch of dumb jokes about court and Christmas, such as this one:

ON COURT: The court room is a lot like church. There are wooden benches to sit on, a guy sits in the front of the room judging you and everyone is getting fucked.

ON CHRISTMAS: I'm not going to get a Christmas tree this year, it's too expensive and too much hassle. Instead, I'm going to decorate my pussy because it's cheap and easy.

Yay! Love you all and send in those quarters and order those CDs. Lots of X's and O's.