"EVERYBODY IN THIS ROOM WANTS TO F*** ME RIGHT NOW"
Mary Birdsong (of RENO 911) as her alter-ego the “99 CENT WHORE,” singin’ a new song that the 99 cent whore made up after going to a fancy Hollywood party. This song was also co-made-up with Julia Darling, and features an F#minor chord!
It’s the height of pilot season here in L.A., and I can feeeeel the collective pain of my brethren and my…. sistren…. actors. Even the agents and the managers and the casting directors are giving off pheromonic stress-vibes. The whole town right now is like one big hung-over college student cramming for an exam- leaving us all sleep-deprived for about three months straight, but convinced that if we pass that final, we WILL get laid. To all of those people in L.A., and New York, and, hell, to anyone anywhere who has ever hustled the good hustle and called it “work,” (or far worse- called it “art”) ; to all of us who (and we know who we are) have described projects and performances as “genius” or “hilarious” so many times that those words have lost all meaning…This song is for you.
ANTHROPOLOGIE, FREE PEOPLE AND URBAN OUTFITTERS (FORMERLY THE LEFT-WING SHOPPING HIVE OF CHOICE FOR HIPSTER-BEES) EXPOSED! CAUGHT ON FILM WEARING SANTORUM SWEATER-VESTS WITH DEEEEEP POCKETS!
Dear Mr. Hayne: you may as well start marketing your stores as Halloween costume outlets, cuz the jig is UP, seeeee? You can’t pass your stores off as one of my cool friends anymore and then hit the golf course with Santorum. My eyes have been opened, so my wallet must close. Anthropologie, UrbanOutfitters, & Free People- you are not the lefty-hipsters you have pretended to be. So stop dressing the part while you secretly hate on gays & women by taking the cash I give you and donating it to people who fight to keep gay marriage rights out of reach, and propagate ridiculous dogma about how women should accept their “rape babies” as “gifts from G-d.”
A rare live recording from ye olden days of Cottonhead. My gorgeously-talented singer friend Francine Wheeler & me. Sing along!
I’m not gonna lie to ya honey. I’ve cried over men. It’s tragically funny. I know the way it goes, it isn’t easy. I’ve learned all I want’s a little love and some money. It’s hard to push myself on you. But there’s just enough of me left to give to you.
What’s left is your’s for the taking. My heart is your’s for the breaking, What’s left has nothing to lose. What’s left is waiting for you. La da la da da, la da da duh da duh dah. What’s left is waiting for you…
BIRDSONG BOOK OF DREAMS: Mirth, Madness, Magic Markers
For a few years now, each morning, without fail, I’ve been trying to recall my dreams from the night before. First I write down whatever plot-lines I remember, then I start drawing any images that come out of that. Eventually I started getting more into it— coloring them, etc. Now? I have a full-blown addiction. To drawing. With magic markers. And white out. And nail polish. Glitter pens. Stickers of ponies. It doesn’t really matter to me as long as it looks cool. I start them in black Papermate Flair® felt-tip pens, and then switch over to the magic markers, etc. for color. Since I draw in pen, mistakes can be a problem- so I use USPS Priority Mail address labels to cover over any mistakes. (They’re free! And plentiful!) I tried using the white-out but the magic markers don’t work on top of white-out. They hate it. White-out is their kryptonite. And all of the above could not be done without the aid of an entire pot of strong black tea.