deep in the ocean, there lies a wave for you

I have a ton of crap to write about. Bear with me.

Last night at the club was Fall Out Boy. The audience consisted mainly of 13-to 16-year-old girls, who I am fine with. I was obsessed with Gavin Rossdale and Blink-182 and I understand. Anyway, the main event occurred when I received a phone call from a Captain in the U.S. Army who shouted as if (and he probably was) a 20-year-old trying to be very, very tough. His rant: “I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOUR MANAGER PLEASE. ONE OF MY MEN WAS JUST KICKED OUT OF YOUR CLUB FOR WHAT I BELIEVE WAS WASHING HIS HANDS. YES, HE IS UNDERAGE BUT WASHING YOUR HANDS IS NOT A CRIME. I DON’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF ESTABLISHMENT YOU’RE RUNNING OVER THERE, BUT THAT WAS A SLAP IN THE FACE TO THE U.S. ARMY. HE IS BEING DEPLOYED IN A MONTH AND HE SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN KICKED OUT OF YOUR CLUB,” etc. So I transfer him to the manager’s voicemail and proceed to find out what actually happened. He walked in, Christy asked for his ID, he said “UH I’M IN THE MILITARY,” so she X’s his hands and keeps an eye out. He underage drank! Total crap. I guess it just riles me up because the Cpt. dude could’ve been like “Listen, if he made a mistake, I’m sorry, but can he please see the show? He’s leaving for Iraq in a month.” But it was this sense of entitlement, this carte blanche he thought the dude should have, that made me angry.

In better news, I saw David Lynch and Inland Empire on Sunday, and both were so deliciously pleasing. David Lynch’s high-pitched voice and quirky-yet-sufficient answers to the could-be-lame questions were both awesome. The movie itself was a 3-hour nightmare, really, especially since he’s discovered the art of the distorted face – creepy. But Justin Theroux – delish, Laura Dern – fabulous, Harry Dean Stanton – AMAZING, the troupe of scantily clad dancing girls – the best.

Also, who said the premise of Home Alone was unrealistic? (Answer: Cella)

I’m feeling very frustrated with the fact that I know exactly what I want right now, in life, etc., and I am unable to make it happen. But I’m breathing through it, accepting I can’t change circumstances / control other people’s minds, also, I think I have this feeling in part because I’m on the rag.

Kenny gave me the privilege of writing as a guest blogger on “Worth Repeating,” the AOL Gay & Lesbian blog. Check out my musings here.

I am so incredibly pleased with AfterEllen’s synopsis of last Sunday’s L Word premiere. She shares my sentiments on plotlines and characters exactly.
1. Max sucks. No one cares.
2. Jenny is easy to make fun of.
3. Helena and Alice are awesome.
4. Tina sucks and stresses me out.
5. Bette kind of owns sometimes, even though she’s crazy.
6. Kit and Angus make me want to vom.
7. Shane is hot.
Thanks to Kenny for the tip.

This may just be the scariest photo ever taken of me.

First of all, I am very drunk. Notice the tilt in my red wine glass. Notice the urgency with which I shove the strawberry into my mouth. And notice the demons that have possessed me, as evidenced by my eyes and face.

I know this is going to come as a shock for most of you, but I am not a finalist in the Justin Timberlake “My Grammy Moment” competition. See the crap festival that did qualify here. I was wrong about you, Justin … you aren’t looking for much variety. You didn’t pick ONE cute, nerd-tastic chick with a guilty crush. I am heartbroken.

Since I’m over my embarrassment, I’ll post my submission. I can’t watch it myself, because watching my face move on film makes me want to throw up.  I’ll forgive you if you cancel our friendship after viewing this catastrophe.

I arrived at Christopher’s humble College Park, MD, abode on Friday night at around 9:30 pm. We watched some TV before falling asleep around midnight. I awoke in the morning to a loud, urgent knock on the front door. It was a policeman welcoming me with the news that one of my tires had been slashed, along with Dealie (Chris’s roommate) and the old man across the street. Like, seriously? If I didn’t already hate drunken frat boys enough … way to fuel my fire. It is now a bonfire, and I plan on scorching all kegs of beer, visors, and cargo khaki shorts in it. His street teems wiith gross people I would never consider touching, and I am POSITIVE that it was one of them – a white, inebriated date-rapist from suburban Maryland.

DEATH TO YOU.

Child Soldiers in Uganda
Orphans’ Christmas in South Africa
Cause for Suicide
Fatimah’s mom died of ovarian cancer yesterday. I haven’t spoken to her in over a year, not on purpose, just because. I don’t know what to do or say; should I call or write? She was one of my best friends, and when we see each other now, we pick right up where we left off. I wish I could just go home to her … I don’t know what to do.

Nothing makes me gag more than this.
“… the interrogation techniques had been approved at the defence department by officials who included Mr. Rumsfeld.” I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be in that frame of mind; to think of a human being and what would bring that person to pull his own hair out. If I had to think of how to torture someone who killed someone in my family, I couldn’t come up with the tactics the government did. I would constantly relate it to myself and think of what the pain would be like if it was inflicted on my own body.
If I haven’t ranted to you about Joseph Kony yet, and your new year’s resolution includes becoming more charitable, first read about the atrocities that have been happening in Northern Uganda for over 20 years here and then donate to Uganda-CAN.

RebeccaA06 (2:52:25 PM): im not even kidding, tears.

RebeccaA06 (2:52:26 PM): http://www.wwtdd.com/post.phtml?pk=1731

alang33 (2:53:00 PM): wow

alang33 (2:53:02 PM): you’re so in

Since I failed miserably at attempting to chronicle my top 10 albums of 2006, I will instead point to the top 5 gigs, since there was not a marked absence of concert-attending.
1. Mojave 3 at the Black Cat – I have never heard a more perfect set. They played everything I wanted to hear!

Neil Halstead, bew. bew. bew.
2. Art Brut at the Black Cat – The first time blew my face off, and the second time, I TOUCHED EDDIE ARGOS’S ARM, TWICE!
3. Damien Jurado at the Black Cat backstage – Alone, sipping a Stella, smoking, weeping.
4. Editors at 9:30 – Could Tom Smith’s sweat-soaked white T-shirt BE any tighter?
5. Belle and Sebastian, first night, 9:30 – All my dreams came true.