Monthly Archives: November 2008

Sam: Controversy

I’ve been involved in many conversations with a person (and to protect said person’s identity… we’ll call her Judy) over the years about how “cruel” and “politically incorrect” it was to consume veal.  Yeah, it’s kind of sad to think about hacking into a poor baby animal for your own gastronomical pleasure… but my god, it’s delicious.

Recently, “Judy” was generous enough to give Audra and I about ten pounds worth of locally grown lamb.  Now, I love me some lamb… but ten pounds?!  Jesus.  During the transaction we casually ask where the lamb came from, and if “Judy” happened to know the age of the tasty morsel.  We learned the lamb was raised by a friend of “Judy’s” and “Judy” and her friends had already devoured a significant portion.  We then learned the lamb was roughly a year old, possibly younger.  Yes, friends you heard me correctly.  It is apparently okay to eat a baby lamb, but a baby cow is a big no-no.  Does this make sense to you?  I’m completely baffled about it.  Yeah, it’s a little creepy to think about but in the end the poor thing would have the same fate of ending up on the dinner table… so does it really matter?  Don’t answer that, please.  Honestly, I didn’t even think about it until Audra brought it to my attention later.  At the time I was way more interested in learning the little guy was named, Prince.  Prince!  How perfect.  The Prince song Controversy has been in my head ever since.

I like to think “Judy” just didn’t realize the similarity between young lamb and veal, but one never knows.  Or, maybe she feels it really is okay?  Either way, we still plan on putting on Dirty Mind by Prince and eating some delicious lamb curry!

Dirty Mind

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audra: holiday rebuff

whoopsie.  i spoke way too soon…we should have left for home yesterday.

i will save the detailed drama for my close friends, but in the meantime there is only one thing to make me feel better, and one thing only…other than sneaking out to the driveway to smoke…is “last christmas” by wham!.  i wanted to wait until after my birthday holiday extravaganza next saturday to post this, but it can’t wait a second longer.  it’s a treat for you & for me.  if it’s not your favorite christmas song, then maybe we shouldn’t be friends:

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audra: post-thanksgiving stress disorder

well kittens, i hope everyone had a lovely thanksgiving, filled with giblets, jarred gravy & canned green beans. actually, ours was quite nice & drama free(!). no political/homophobic/racial outbursts from the grandfather. what a failure of tradition that was. i suspect he was ordered not to do so prior to our arrival in town, but it made for a pleasant dining experience nonetheless. the turkey was a bit dry…even what with the pesto & butter jammed under the skin, but it was fine…i’m not that big on turkey anyway. i’m really under distress though; what the fuck happened to my mom’s butternut squash & yukon gold potato thing? it had gruyère & butter & cream…and it’s nowhere to be found anymore. tears… and also, there were placemats. fall-themed placemats. combined with my great-grandmother’s china & some linen napkins my mom bought in provence…well, it just didn’t look right.

another thing that really upset me last night was the gravy. i love gravy, really…but the thin, gluey, brothy stuff just doesn’t do it for me. i want creamy & fatty. when i was about 17, i decided to go vegetarian for awhile. it was lovely, really. i’m not sure i really did it for health reasons…probably more to be difficult & different in a town full of carnivorous hunters. but anyway, on holidays i would do the potatoes & a salad, & just skip the slaughtered bird. easy, right? hmm. in an effort to cram some sort of animal flesh down my throat, my mom would “sneak” giblets into the gravy. i was onto her though…i knew the second i took a whiff of that livery, hearty, lungy goo. you don’t mess around with mineraly gravy…that shit is impossibly to disguise.

the vegetarian thing lasted a little over seven years. really. but you know, sometimes a girl just really needs a bloody steak! by the time i started eating meat again, mum finally stopped trying to sneak organs into my gravy. and over the past several years since i’ve decided to eat anything, you would think now would be the time to pour some giblet sauce on my plate. now she’s all about the “giblet” gravy…sort of tastes giblety without the hassle of giblets…just substitute a leg with dark meat. now that i think about it, she also used to make these stuffed mushrooms with crab meat in them, but neglected to tell me about the crab…and actually telling me all that was in them were bread crumbs, herbs & parmesan. this is when i wasn’t eating seafood either. no animals – land or water. why was she pushing this agenda on me? i don’t get it.

i am a little proud of the old gal though…i think mom may be picking up cooking again. i’ve mentioned before about how she used to make these amazing meals for me growing up, and over the past couple of years it’s just fizzled out. badly. i blame her work “friends”. it’s no longer a french cassoulet when we visit, but “i’m just going to heat up these chicken wings from the deli. i’m sorry you guys…is that okay? i’m sorry…it’s not gourmet. i’m sorry.” enough with the apologizing. seriously. i’ve gotten glared at so many times lately when i’ve mentioned how i had roasted duck, seared some veal or grilled a rack of lamb over the weekend. but i think my gloating has paid off…

last night mom mentioned that she wanted to raise lambs. and she’s also been making her own limoncello. i don’t know what the fuck she’s been doing with the limoncello, but whatever. but back to the lambs – dad’s not so sweet on the idea. we had horses & cows when i was a wee lass, and i think he’s done with the whole raising animals thing. but i think it would be so rad, right?! racks of lamb for everyone! and lamb curry all the time. we’ll see…they have the acreage, it’s just the dad that needs convincing. and could i not get a sweater made out of the lambies as well!? everyone’s happy. and then after the wool is used, i could fashion a new lambskin handbag out of the skins. brilliant! i don’t think dad has any idea what an amazing idea this is. the dog would love it too…something else to bark at. again, brilliant! i have some convincing to do.

…oh my god, is this my first food post?! sort of, right? it’s not what i pictured, but it will have to do. i’m just sad that i complain about thanksgiving every year. publicly, too. this year was definitely a vast improvement though, but it’s always such a headache…especially with the grandfather. it’s just so awkward. and with not being able to talk about politics, race or sexual orientation, what else was there for him to talk about? we just looked around at the table, the walls, my shoes…and his pug snorting & tearing around the house. it didn’t help that my parents didn’t change the music channel; i think it was on 70’s rewind something or other – lots of ac/dc & billy squier. and somehow appropriate for thanksgiving dinner.

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Sam: Dancing in the Sheets

Did David Bowie and Mick Jagger really put it in each others butts? That’s been a question on minds of millions for years. Through a lot of research, and questionable websites, I’ve found the rumor has never really officially been confirmed. Naturally, I have drawn my own conclusion. Bowie was an admittedly bisexual rock icon. Jagger had an extensive catalog of sexual encounters with the ladies, and from what I’ve read wasn’t too picky about whom (or what) he stuck it in. The math just seems to add up. Think about the chemistry they had together on their cover of Martha and the Vandellas Dancing in the Street. Even though I don’t care for the song very much, they just seem to fit together. And if they worked so well together in the studio, just imagine the kind of magic they made together in the sack! I know, I know. Just because you are caught lying naked in bed, next to some other naked person does not mean you slept with them… but chances are.

Apparently, the nude duo was caught spooning by David’s now ex-wife Angela. Clearly she’s an idiot. Instead of hopping in between the two of them for a little British invasion of her own, she politely asks them if they were interested in a cup of coffee and retreated to the kitchen. What exactly happened is unclear. Speculation of the pair innocently passing out after a long night of boozing is a theory I see repeated often. But at what point did they ditch their clothes? Allegedly the bed Mick was supposed to use was roughly three hundred yards from the bed he and David had jammed their bare bodies into. Oh, the possibilities!

Mick was pretty quick to dismiss the incident, and went as far as calling the story


David, on the other hand, was a little more relaxed by the whole thing. Leave it to the androgynous one!

I really got pretty tired fending off the questions about what I used to do with my penis in the early seventies. My suggestion for people with prurient interests is to go through the thirty to forty bios on me, and pick out the rumor of their choice.

And then there is Angela, who made her rounds on the talk show circuit in the mid eighties, and went on to publish a book. At one point she supposedly claimed she

…was dead certain they had been screwing


It was so obvious, in fact, I never even considered the possibility they hadn’t been screwing

Even though we share the same feelings, her comments make me cringe. Only because she uttered the term, “screwing”. Shudder. I hate that word.

In 1973 the Rolling Stones went to #1 on the chart with their hit, Angie. The song was about the demise of an unsatisfying relationship. I didn’t realize there were all sorts of speculation that when Angela busted the sword fight, it was possibly after the two had composed the song… and it was (gasp!) about her. Mick reportedly bagged her at some point also. It could have possibly even been about Bowie himself! How scandalous! I’ve also once heard it was about an affair Mick had with Angela Richards, band mate Keith’s daughter. How naughty. No matter what the real story is, the song is brilliant and has sparked many cover attempts. Most notably done by Tori Amos in the early nineties.

Audra and I had the privilege of seeing David Bowie perform in 2004. It was as close to a religious experience as I will probably ever get. On our way into the venue, we were approached by a guy selling homemade tee shirts. The image of Mick Jagger’s face graced the front along with the phrase, “I fucked Bowie”. As much as I love Bowie. And Mick. And this whole story... why the hell didn’t I buy one? God, I’m stupid.

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audra: is mj really the new ysl?

as i was tooling about in the new issue of the bible the other day, i skimmed one of my favorite columns, life with andré by andré leon talley. i had to stop &  lick the page for a moment when a skirt-clad marc jacobs with victoria beckham caught my eye.  then i noticed the heading, man of the moment.  so i read…

“in my life in the fashion trenches, there have been only two collections that were seismic moments destined to become part of the legacy of modern fashion history.”

…one being yves saint laurent’s broadway suit collection clear back in 1978, and the other being marc jacobs’s most recent collection at new york fashion week.  a pretty bold statement, don’t you think?  especially coming from talley.  he then goes on to say that what with mj’s models walking the runway to gershwin’s rhapsody in blue, jacobs “became the new yves saint laurent.”

the new ysl…?  marc jacobs truly is my favorite designer, and has been since, like, forever.  when i bought my first pair of mj heels in 2003, i thought my head would explode.  really.  i would sit with my new red heels on for hours in the house, just watching tv or whatever, afraid that if i wore them outside they’d get scuffed, or i’d fall down.  i wasn’t that great at walking in heels back then…oh, so young.  when i think of his designs, i think of lots of different textures, bright colors with most often a slightly off-kilter cut.  he’s just so bloody cool.  i hear that he chain-smokes like you woudn’t believe, too…even to & from the gym.

when i think of ysl, i think flowing evening gowns worn by catherine deneuve – like the black lacy thing she wore in belle du jour – though i don’t really think he meant design-wise, but style-wise rather, if that makes sense.  hmm.  well, still, it’s hardly something you could compare marc jacobs to, right?  sure marc does gowns & suits & such, but really?  however, when i took a little looky-loo at marc’s new spring 2009 ready-to-wear collection further, i started to agree with talley; especially his suits paired with darling little hats…quite the loving nod to monsieur laurent.

yves saint laurent

marc jacobs spring 2009 ready to wear

the first model is wearing yves saint laurent; i’m not certain the year, but just guessing, i would say it’s circa 1988.  the second model is wearing marc jacobs spring 2009.  granted i picked the most conservative of mj’s suits, but you get the point.   i guess it just sort of shocked me to hear such high praises given to marc, to be called the new ysl…and what with yves only being in fashion heaven since june.  i’ll definitely be pulling out my never-been-worn, silver marc jacobs boots (with star shaped cut-outs(!), circa 2005-ish) very, very soon.  while chain-smoking, of course.

for the rest of his spring collection, click here.

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audra: the manson family

this weekend sam & i watched a 2003 film about charles manson & his “family”, cleverly titled the manson family.  i love me some psycho killer films even more than i love the song, psycho killer…and almost as much as i love beer.  and butter.  combined.  so you can imagine the excitement leading up to the viewing.

we popped in the shiny dvd, and not even five minutes into the film i hastily said how much i loved it already(!).  the manson family is sort of mockumentary-esque, with staged interviews that are made to look authentic, and littered with clips from manson’s ranches that almost look like veritable footage as well.  and then you start noticing the bad acting.  not terrible acting, just not great.  but, it’s true crime…and there are lots of tits, sex & drug use…so it must be good, right?

it did sort of fizzle out towards the end (even despite the climax of the entire film – the tate & labianca murders, and various other slaughters), and bits of it seemed a little inaccurate.  i would totally recommend watching it though…especially if you’re into seeing someone get stabbed 40 or 50 times.  parts of it reminded me of the 1972 graphic horror film gore gore girls…what with all the repeated stabbing & blood lust.  but anyway.  here’s the trailer…

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Sam: From Copenhagen with love

Mark your calenders now.  Early December, roughly the 8th or the 9th – details are still a little scattered, Sune Rose Wagner is dropping his first solo album.  And the entire album is in Danish!  I am so excited about this, I am about ready to pee a ring around myself.  Go check out the fuzzed out, 60’s inspired tracks for yourself:

Oh, and you need to watch this.

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Sam: The Effects of 333

The new record from Black Rebel Motorcycle Club is a perfect example of a good idea gone south.  The Effects of 333 is a 55 minute instrumental/ambient train wreck of a record.  Ambient!  What the hell were they thinking? I love this band and I was so excited for this record. I was even more excited to learn our friend Don had burned it for us and Audra was bringing it home from work with her the other night. How sad. I usually love it when bands switch up their sound.  PJ Harvey always amazes me, and the new electronica inspired stuff from The Raveonettes was unexpected but fantastic.  This shit show from BRMC was a total disappointment.  It still sounds like them, kind of… but it’s basically just noise.  I sort of feel like a cranky old geezer with that last statement, complaining that, “rock and roll is just noise, and it’s the devil’s music”.  But, in this instance it’s true.  If you are looking for something to make your ears bleed, then have at it.  It’s all yours.  To me, the seizure inducing cover art bears a striking resemblance to The Eraser by Thom Yorke… only I like the Thom Yorke cover.  And the album for that matter.

A few positive things to say about the damn thing… One. It would actually make a great score to a film. Either a dark indie flick, or a good horror film, but not of the cheesy variety. The good kind. The old school type with the serious psychopaths and gratuitous tits and blood. Two. It was released independently.  Free from any corporate record label.  Which makes sense, no self respecting record label would want to slap their name on such a hot mess.



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audra: alexander mcqueen spring 2009 ready-to-wear

i just took a little peek at my beloved alexander mcqueen’s collection for spring 2009.  after the ridiculously rad fall 2008 line, my expectations were quite high…what with ludicrously amazing stuff like this:

i’m a little disappointed with the spring line…some of it seems to be grazing the fine line between safari chic & animal print orgy from talbots:

and what the hell is up with this?

i really liked this corseted frock though:

but look closer, and note the gross shoes above.  seriously you guys, these are so gross.  sadly i wasn’t able to find a more detailed photograph, but you can tell that they’re flesh colored, foot molded heels, possibly in some sort of synthetic material…or maybe patent leather, but i doubt it.  i hate other people’s feet, and these exacerbate every sick detail of the human foot that i just can’t stand.  but anyway, i really hate this too:

it looks like alex found a scrap of an old stained-glass themed tapestry, cut some arm holes here, a triangle in the crotch there, and called it good.

typically designers will have a collection that sticks with one theme, but this is all over the place.  it makes my head hurt.  a lot of the dresses were really pretty though, like this one:

i love the detail on the model’s face, too:

so pretty!  do you think that would work for me if i pulled some fishnets over my head?

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Sam: Candy Says…

Many things make me happy, and one of them just happens to be a photograph of a sick tranny on a death bed. Candy Darling on her Death Bed shot by­­­ ­Peter Hujar in 1974 is stunning.  At first I thought this photograph was just a brilliant shot.  Little did I know she really was on her death bed, filled with cancer that was consuming her body faster than a fat kid tearing through a bag of Doritos.  I love the idea of finding beauty in the macabre.  Who knew being sick could be so glamorous?


In a desperate attempt to ditch the body she was born into, Candy Darling began injecting unsanctioned hormones and as a result she developed leukemia. After a bout with pneumonia, she took off for the big disco ball in the sky on March 21st, 1974 at the age of 29.  She is still very much alive in my household.  We see her often.  Sometimes on TV.  Sometimes in the record collection.  The photo above serves as the cover art for Antony & the Johnsons haunting record I Am a Bird Now.  We even almost named one of the tree frogs that invaded our patio over the summer after her.  The honors ended up going to fellow Factory girl, Edie Sedgwick.  She is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.  Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson said it best, “Candy, Candy, Candy I can’t let you go”.

In a letter intended for Andy Warhol written from her death bed, Candy said, “Unfortunately before my death I had no desire left for life . . . I am just so bored by everything. You might say bored to death. Did you know I couldn’t last. I always knew it. I wish I could meet you all again.”

Bored to death.  So, she taught us all that getting sick can be glamorous… and apparently funny too.  Bravo, Ms. Darling!

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