Oh, and just in case any of youse thinks that my previous post is what I look like in real life (and for those of you who do — FUCK OFF, LADY. That mullet would be epic even in hell)…here is my latest work pic — taken proudly by my couch-gamboling daughter, Annie, the night before my recent adventure to the Grand Canyon:
Well, you asked for her…and here she is.
Mesdames et Messieurs — I give you:
Miss Sandy Culpepper.
I’M BUTCH!
Do you ever wonder what your kids are up to when you’re not around? Well, my friends, recently the heavens opened up for one small second and allowed me to peer inside the realm of the normally unknowable. I was going through the pics that are stored on our digital camera, and came upon the following:
My almost 14-year old, Anne — listening to The Go Go’s at extremely high decibels and JUMPING ON MY FUCKING COUCH.
All I could do was belly laugh.
I’ll murder her at a later date.
Along the same lines as my recent post regarding your lj screen names:
I would like to know what it is you do for a living. Artist? Accountant? Data entry gnome? Rosie the Riveter? Indian Chief? Hooker? Stay at home mom? Blasphemous activist? Bastard carny? Cartographer to the stars? Serial killer? Caretaker of Toad Hall?
How do you earn the simolians to keep cupcakes on your table? How do you spend your days contributing to the betterment of humankind? When/if the IRS crawls up your tender ass with a microscope, under which title will they pursue you?
Step up and speak thy peace, sisters and brothers. Testify.
This may sound ridiculous, but after a couple of years of knowing many of you, I STILL can’t figure out what in hell is up with several of your lj names. I mean, I can certainly decipher the obvious, inherent, and charming meaning of the names and …but what the FUCK is an anyway, goddamnit?
So, my query to you is this: Aside from people like myself, , , , , , and (who are all writers and/or performers…hmmm, I am sensing a theme here) who use their real names…what in the blithering fuck does your lj screen name mean and where did it come from?
Step up and represent, my friends.
PS) Yes, I am well aware that is not really his full and given name — which is actually Mike Osegueda — but he is affectionately known to the majority of his readership as “Mike Oz”…so fuck off, lady.
Yeah. Phil Spector is completely sane enough to stand trial for the murder of B-movie actress Lana Clarkson. Fully.
Music producer Phil Spector is shown in Superior Court judge Monday, May 23, 2005, in Los Angeles.
Phil Spector, later after a tight whack o’ thorazine, in a moment of animated repose.
All joking and the fact that I loathe him aside…I think that Tom Cruise may actually be losing his fucking mind. When he starts flinging his own feces…the madness shall be complete:
And speaking of my friend, Leslie, aside from his recent tour de force appearances on “Will and Grace” and “Boston Public”, he is hitting the road with his hilarious and stunning one-man show, “Like A Dog On Linoleum.” If you live in any of the locales where his tiny toes shall be alighting (they are also adding dates all the time), do yourself a fat fucking favor and get tickets to see him. He is absolutely beyond brilliant. There is no one else like him anywhere.
And I love him madly.
And so, it seems, does everybody else:
THE DESERT SUN
“Jordan’s baring of his soul is what draws you in…”
LOS ANGELES TIMES
“This solo confessional from stage and screen imp Leslie Jordan is a remarkable achievement in autobiographical performance…”
LOS ANGELES CRITICS CIRCLE (showmag.com)
“…I have seen few people who come close to having that rare ‘star’ quality. Leslie Jordan has it in spades, and his one-man ‘presentation’–his words–is hilarious and heartbreaking all at the same time…”
BACKSTAGE WEST (Southern California)
“The most enjoyable solo shows are those that manage to juxtapose private revelation with crackling stagecraft–and that is precisely what character actor Leslie Jordan does in his wonderful one man tour de force…”
FRONTIERS NEWSMAGAZINE
“In the best of all possible worlds, Leslie Jordan would be cloned, bottled, and then distributed to depressed people starving for some laughs…”
TALKIN’ BROADWAY
“…along comes Leslie Jordan’s Like a Dog on Linoleum, which is so good you don’t even want to call it a one-person show…”
FORT WORTH STAR-TELEGRAM
“…a wistful, hilarious and relentlessly honest catharsis about growing up gay and Baptist in the South…”
So, Friday we shot the pilot for that series I told you about last week. It was, of course, a blast. I stalked around the set in my hideous mullet wig and combat boots — raising my fists high above my head in glorious victory every five — announcing proudly to the world, “I’M BUTCH!”
However, the true litmus test of my feigned butchness was that after I emerged from costume and makeup, I sauntered onto the set in character…to find that the first assistant director (the A.D.) was a real live, honest to christ, trucker hat, tube socks, and camo pants-wearing DIESEL DYKE! I almost died from fright. She saw me and slowly came over and silently read me from the top of my yeti wig to the tips of my steel-toed boots. I just stood there…waiting to get my ass kicked. After about 30 seconds of this seemingly interminable horror …she grabbed my left wrist, held it up to hers for comparison, saw that we were both serendipitously wearing almost identical watches (ones with the thick, brown leather bands you would normally see worn by persons on a carnival midway, circa 1972) and said, “You fucking ROCK!” I almost wept with relief. I had passed the horrific scrutiny of one who takes her butchness oh, so SERIOUSLY. I was in.
Even better, after the shoot, said director — who has her own production company and has directed several extraordinary films for the gay and lesbian film festival circuit — came up to me and asked me for a head shot. I said, “When do you need it?”
She answered, “Umm…yesterday. We SO have to work together. You were fucking amazing.”
So, — I think I did you proud.
I hope I did.
From the shoot:
My friends, Leslie and Peter…doing the “Chi-Chi Chit Chat.”
Judge me, get over your bad self, and then offer me aid, goddamnit. I need suggestions for the following:
1) Yummy, easy recipes for dinner. I am bored and uninspired in the kitchen.
2) Movies. I am bored and uninspired on Netflix. Hit me with your best shot.
3) Books. I am bored and uninspired at the library and on Amazon. I need to feed. So feed me.
Ennui is a bitch.
Thank you.
That is all.
muffy bolding 