sea creatures

I check my site traffic once a week at Stat Counter. I don't have any good reason for this other than my slight megalomania. My favorite feature of the Stat Counter site is the recent visitor map because I'm a bit of a map nerd--in addition to the 40 other types of nerd-dom I subscribe to. This is a screen shot taken from my most recent visitor map, which I think proves that either dolphins have the Internets or that some other kind of unknown sea beasty is able to use its powers of telepathy to scan the World Wide Web for pictures of chicks. If you are the unidentified sea creature who visited this site for 2:45 looking for a "groupie" picture, please make yourself known. For me, and for science.

Oscar party how to

Oscar party how to
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

Just add self loathing, delusions of granduer & drunken snarkiness.

synchronicity

Ever since I was introduced to the term in my parapsychology class (I used to smoke a lot of weed), I've been a wholehearted subscriber to the phenomenon of synchronicity. Like most ideas championed by Carl Jung, it just made sense to me. Once I was introduced to the idea, I began seeing instances of synchronicity all the time in my own life and in the world around me, and that's even after I stopped smoking a lot of weed. Today, synchronicity struck once more in the form of the impressively foreheaded and increasingly sexy-fied Christina Ricci.

I've liked Christina since she was in The Addams Family (not in that way because she was just a baby) and have more or less enjoyed her career since. If for no other reason, she's managed to transition from child star to adult actor with out too many bumps in the road or time spent in rehab (though I could be wrong about the rehab thing, it's hard to keep track lately). And in Buffalo '66 she managed to star alongside Vincent Gallo without vomiting or showing visible signs of nausea. She didn't even have to give him a blow job like some other skank. Now if those aren't signs of a true professional, I don't know what are.

But today was a particularly trying day of work in which I actually had to be a manager and man up to my boss about how I thought things were going. I had to conduct meetings and get people to contribute, which they did, and the talk went okay, so I maybe I'm not all that bad at what I do, though I'm still not at all convinced. Luckily, there were Hershey Kisses in the candy dish and these pictures of Ms. Ricci from the Black Snake Moan premier to help replace my self doubt with some good ol' fashioned lust (which is a much better thing to be mulling about, I can assure you). I don't know when Christina got so bangin' (technical term), but I'm sure glad it happened. And wouldn't you know it? When I got home, I found that Cursed, a kinda shitty werewolf movie, was playing on Encore, starring none other than Christina Ricci. I watched it happily over peas and pork chops. The Universe sure is a wacky place.

In un-Christina Ricci-related news, I went to go see Ghost Rider tonight, and it was about as good as it looks in the previews. It definitely could have been worse, especially as comic book movies go. I'd place it better than Ang Lee's Hulk, but a hell of a lot more cheesy than anything else that's come from Marvel recently. The film made me realize a few things:

• Ghost Rider is a Texan who's a motorcycle riding daredevil by day and turns into a fiery skeleton thing in a leather jacket with chains and spikes and stuff at night. Pretty much, he's a hero who appeals to white trash trailer park residents everywhere.
• I'm amazed people don't talk about Eva Mendes's butt more because it's almost as hot as her rack.
  
• Any movie, no matter how shitty (and this one was pretty damn shitty), becomes instantly cooler as soon as Sam Elliot shows up.
  

Seriously, why hasn't this guy gotten some kind of lifetime achievement award yet? Has the academy seen Roadhouse? He played Patrick Swayze's grizzled old mentor who still had a little bit of gas in the tank for a down home, bar burnin' slobber knocker. He drank shitty beer from the bottle and danced with Kelly Lynch. He was a MAN amongst men. Well, except for the beer drinkin' and dancin', he played pretty much the same role in Ghost Rider. Rough, tobacco-juice-spittin', salty, he was a man with a mysterious past who worked as a caretaker in this utterly random cemetery on the edge of nowhere and seemed to know just about everything regarding Ghost Rider's bizarre situation. He'd been there, man, to hell and fuckin' back. He bought the T-shirt and spilled shitty beer on it and used it to wipe the tears from some poor girl's eyes as she watched everything she knew burn to the ground. And he's got the best voice ever. I'm just saying. Academy, get on that shit.

what to get for that special loser in your life

now back to your regularly scheduled whining

When we got back from Vegas this evening, I dropped my friend off at his house and went inside to use the bathroom. Turned out, his girlfriend got left his Valentine's Day gifts in his room. He got a tube-thing of Toblerone (which he gave me some of because he doesn't eat chocolate (SCORE!)) and two tickets to a basketball game. I, of course, returned home to nothing. But when I checked my e-mail, it turned out that there is someone out there who loves me--Missy from Suicide Girls.

For a few short months last year, I was a proud member of the Web site, paying a scant couple bucks to peruse countless archives of photos of tattooed, pierced gothy-punky girls lounge about in their skivvies, and even completely naked. But that credit card expired, and when it did, I decided not to renew the account. I guess we weren't meant to be, but I will always have fond memories of the times we spent together on my roommate's laptop.

Since then, SG founder Missy has been trying to woo me back, making all kinds of special offers. This is the most recent attempt:

Here's what's new in the world of SuicideGirls, real quick: Our Burlesque tour is opening for Guns N Roses, some of the original SuicideGirls starred in an episode of CSI NY and Showtime is airing our newest movie, The Italian Villa.

SUMMARY: We have been having a lot of fun without you.

But something's been missing. That's right, we miss you. Seriously. Come give us another try. We'll make you a special price.

Tempting, yes, but I don't think I'll take her up on her offer. The e-mail concludes with a link to get my name taken off their marketing list, but I'm not going to click that either. I mean, it's nice to be pursued.

Gnoming

Gnoming
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

Gnome says when u go 2 Vegas do it right. Roll with the god of plenty & eat buffets. Heading home with a hoarse throat & a heavy heart.

Gnome says

Gnome says
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

Had so much fun @ the party. Even went on the dance floor ' boogied with a wee, chubby Japanese woman. Then got denied entrance @ 2 night clubs before spending quality with Vegas's nicest stripper.

Free Peroni & bagels 4 breakfast.

Happy endings

Happy endings
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

Aoki & Hyde from 70s Show djing @ TAO in the Venetian. May die from my own scene points.

Vegas night recap

Vegas night recap
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

More Coronas. 60 bucks down. Hasselhoff... Being.

Vegas dispatch

Vegas dispatch
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

5 Coronas. Jamisons. Down 40 bucks.

Gnome

Gnome
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

With my chicken fingers. The woman @ the table next 2 me is falling asleep.

Vegas rules

Vegas rules
Originally uploaded by mutant moth.

Im warted and tryinng to get chicken fingers. But ive been sitting here 4 15 minutes and i will be sleeping on a cot. Does this make sense? Circus circus bitches!!!

three card monte

I'm such a sucker for card tricks. I know it's not really magic, but it might as well be. I figured in honor of my trip to Vegas--speaking of which, I should be asleep already--I'd post this in hopes that I won't get swindled out of all my money. Just most of it.

my new phone rocks and allows me to feel socially superior

After many good months of service (probably around two years) with my trust bulky Sanyo, I've upgraded my cell phone to something more of a "mobile device" with a sleek, sexy, socially conscious Motorola Razr v3 Red. It has Bluetooth and these two little memory card things that serve some purpose, and fit in some phone slot, that remain unknown to me. It can also take video, receive e-mail, take photos, has voice recognition, is GPS and Sprint Vision TV "ready." I will use almost none of these functions, except for taking photos of myself when drunk. I worry if there'll be video.

Other than it being damn sexxxy, it's also a decent karma booster as Sprint and Motorola donate $17 for each phone sold to the Global Fund, which fights AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria in impoverished nations. So I can add that to the list of reasons why I'm better than everyone.

leaving to join the carnival

On Sunday, I'm driving to Vegas. It's over 10 hours away. I'm going for work--for a series of fashion trade shows where I will be pimping myself and my magazine. I will have business cards and handshakes at the ready. Maybe finger pistols too, if the mood strikes me.

It'll be my first time in Vegas, which is an exciting and frightening prospect. Considering I'm not very wealthy and am hopelessly addicted to strippers and gambling, I can get myself into a lot of trouble really fast. I told my roommates not to worry, that I would pay the PG&E bill before I left. I'm just hoping I won't have to sell a kidney to pay my next month's rent, or my credit card bills. I only figured on being there a couple days, which would have been manageable, but now it looks like I'll be there the whole week, which seems like more of a test of my moral fiber than a work-related excursion.

Other than sending the magazine and LOST's triumphant (mostly) return (don't ever leave me like that again), the best thing about this week was getting a link to M.I.A.'s new video for "Bird Flu." It's got hand drums and dudes blowing in goat horns and chickens and kid-gibberish, and it's pretty fucking awesome. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for a new album this year--and soon--and as long as it's half as good as the last one, I'll be more or less content.

say it sexy...

This was probably my favorite Super Bowl ad.



And this was a close second. Rolling "R"s was so hot this year.

i'm glad i've lived long enough to see the '90s come back

I listen to tons of new and exciting music everyday, but when I want to put on something, to rock out to, I'm usually just listening to my old copy of REM's Monster or Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness or Dinosaur Jr.'s Bug or something else that labels me as a old rock has-been. I'm fine with that. Sometime in 2005, there was something of a "grunge renaissance," at least that's how it was dubbed by people like me (I didn't do so personally), with bands like Giant Drag (awesome) and Nine Black Alps (not nearly as awesome) playing songs with a bit of the grunge aesthetic. People like me (who are well known and way better paid) called it nu-grunge (with an umlaut over the first "u," not to be confused with nu(umlaut)-metal, which was really, really terrible). I was kinda stoked, even though nothing really came of it, and I think I'm the only one who has the Giant Drag album.

Anyway, Silversun Pickups are new and good and take me back to a happier time when I was way more depressed. My co-worker told me that they had a video, which she said was kind okay, but she really liked the song. I looked it up today because I'd rather not work and noticed it had a striking resemblance to the video for "Dirty Boots" by Sonic Youth--and by striking I mean completely identical. Deja vu isn't so bad as long as it's rocking.