Category Archives: David Bowie

I Hit It First: A Love Song.

May

2013

Ray J made a sex tape with Kim Kardashian and wrote a song about it, titled “I Hit It First.” I do not think Ray J knows that the word first is not the same as the word before. But, okay Ray J. You hit it first. Yeah. Sure. And Dick Sargent was the first Derrin.

Some lyrics from “I Hit It First”:

I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it first
I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it I hit it first

Really. No exaggeration. That is the chorus.

This song made me realize what love is.

Really. No exaggeration. Here’s why.

I would like to get married one day. I would like to marry someone I am in love with and actually really like as a person. And he feels the same way about me. And beyond loving each other, we’re friends. We have something. There’s a “we” and it’s not the eye rolling nauseating “we” that is the basis of so many godawful romantic comedies. It’s the “we” of David Bowie’s “Heroes”, the:

And you, you can be mean.
And I, I’ll drink all the time.
‘Cause we’re lovers. And that is a fact.
Yes we’re lovers. And that is that.

I want to marry someone (again, far into into the future) who actually likes who I am, all the weird bits and pieces that create this stubborn, bizarre, sensitive, silly personality of mine. I want them to be silly sort as well. And I want them to have their own weird bits and pieces. And we look at our pieces and we say, “You know, these don’t have to fit. We don’t have to complete each other. We just have to be with each other. Because if we don’t, our lives will be unhappy. And that is that.”

This person, this wonderful weird handsome man, will love me and understand me. He will want to make me happy. I will also love and understand him and want to make him happy. We’ll have this mutual appreciation between us of the others’ quirks and we’ll want to make each other better by the end of every day, and not worse. He will be the man who finds joy in stupid fun things.

And so when I tearfully accept (I know I’ll cry) his marriage proposal, and we plan our wedding, and I won’t insist on anything but ask if I can choose our wedding song, and he says yes, and I say I choose, “I Hit It First” he will laugh and say yes. He’ll expect me to back down. And I won’t back down because I don’t want him to know I’m mostly kidding. So neither of us backs down and it all culminates in that moment where we’re about to dance our first dance to a song the DJ (or iTunes Robot) has to introduce as, “Uh, a song that came out in…like…2013? About…some guy, who, ah, he…he slept with this…there was this…do you guys remember reality TV? And Kim Kardashian? Kanye West’s ex wife? Yeah, this song is about a guy who banged her. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. And Mrs. ______!” and we’ll dance and we’ll laugh and laugh.

And that’s love.

Photo of Jayne Mansfield by Ralph Crane, 1958.

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If I had a time machine.

Dec

2012

Considering that I spend most of my time sighing girlishly over photos of young David Bowie, Paul McCartney, and Jarvis Cocker, it makes sense that my friend Tony made this observation:

“God help us all if you ever get your hands on a time machine and some roofies.” – Tony Archer
Oh ha ha Tony. No. I would use it for great things like saving John Lennon and Kennedy.

But first I would have so much Bowie sex. No, sorry, Paul sex first. Then time machine. Then Bowie sex. Then time machine. Then save John Lennon. Then time machine. Then Jarvis Cocker. Then back home for a nice cup of tea and wait for this whole thing to blow over.

Oh crap, I forgot to save JFK.

Whatever, worth it. But if I did remember to save JFK, and I don’t believe it’s a conspiracy, I think Oswald acted alone, I think I could have stopped him if I went up to him that day, punched him in the balls and said, “Stop being a dick” then handcuffed him to a streetlamp, called the police anonymously, then time traveled my sexy ass back to 2012. This is also the same thing I would do with Mark David Chapman. Or maybe I would instead try to be their friends, because friends don’t let friends assassinate presidents and musical geniuses.

“I guess I just wasn’t made for these times.” – Brian Wilson

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The Village & SoHo Mix.

Jun

2011

I admit it: I’m in a New York state of mind. (Thank you, poet laureate Billy Joel.) Please enjoy this mix. It’s titled The Village & SoHo and it’s songs that remind me of the time I spent there. Some of them may not make any sense to you, but they make sense to me. I do hope you enjoy.

Art by the incredible Emily of Phraseless. Follow her on twitter for tweets like, “Just in case you forgot, #timcurry is a god.”

Download The Village & SoHo

What songs remind you of a certain place?

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Things You Need To Stop Doing Right Now.

Dec

2009

YOU NEED TO STOP…

— Using the phrase “Alma mater.” Who the fuck are you trying to fool? Latin’s a dead language, buddy. Just say, “My former/old school.” That sounds real. When you say “Alma Mater” you sound like Ron Burgundy.

— Saying that you’ll follow someone on twitter and then not.

— Using sarcasm in text messaging because it’s really hard to tell when/if you’re being sarcastic through a text message. Beware the exclamation point. They’re the fine line between enthusiasm and sarcasm. “Sorry!” vs “Sorry.” Of course it’s all about context but if you don’t know the person very well then the one with the exclamation point can look very sarcastic.

— Praising Michael Cera for acting. You could swap the guy with a house cat in any of his films and I guarantee you will get the same performance but with less fake, “Oh, I-I guess this thought is, ah, j-just coming to me” stuttering.

— Selecting “reply” on a facebook message if you’re not the only person it was sent to because then we all get your stupid response of, “Thanks for the photos, Nikki, the kids look too cute!!” or whatever. Just reply to the person who sent it to you. My God old people ruin everything.

— Wearing boyfriend jeans. I don’t know what asshole came up with this, but it’s not flattering on anyone. Anyone! Anyone. Katie Holmes, you look like you are on your way to paint a goddamn house. It’s just sloppy looking and stupid. (If this were a text message I could say, “Wow I am really awed by boyfriend jeans! They’re so great!!”).

— Making the same mistakes. “Always crashing in the same car” (Bowie). Learn from your mistakes, don’t repeat them. It’s like George W. Bush said: “Fool me once…shame on you. Fool me twice (long pause) you–you can’t get fooled again.” It’s exactly like that. That is a perfect mistake about making mistakes.

I think I’m falling asleep here, so I’m going to do to bed. I hate when you can’t tell if you’re sleepy or just over it.

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Friends.

Jul

2009

Friendship is very important these days. What with technology being what it is we can stay connected in ways never thought possible. Are you following your friends on twitter? Are they following you? That’s the kicker, isn’t it, when a friend isn’t following you on twitter? That’s when you need to re-evaluate your friendship.

But how does one determine who is a true friend in this crazy twitterverse we’re all facebooking in? Don’t worry, guys. I’m going to help. A true friend will…:

…High five you when you least expect it.
…Treat you to coffee or dinner every now and then because they know that you’ll pick it up the next time. A true friend will never say, when the bill comes, “OMG I just realized that I’m completely overdrawn from the bank LOL I’m so dumb sorry!!”
…Never say “OMG” or “LOL” in public. That’s just…awful.
…Go see that dumb movie that you really want to see because no one else will see it with you and you don’t feel like going alone because what if you run into Drew Barrymore? Do you really want Drew Barrymore to know what a loser you are? Look at how many friends she has. Really tall famous friends. Gosh, Drew Barrymore you’re so fun!
…Let you vent on the phone for an hour about that idiot who cut you off on the freeway or the boss who made you run a seemingly meaningless task or the boy who didn’t call you back.
…Accept you for your insecurities and even try to understand them.
…Root for you always, even if they’re a little bit jealous.

A true friend will not:

… Steal your burrito.
…Hit on the guy that you like if she/he knows that you like him.
…Run over your family.
…Poison your latte.
…And then hide the antidote.
…Burn down the Getty Center.
…Laugh at you when you say something dumb, like when you’re singing to “Man In The Mirror” and you earnestly sing, “They follow each other on a window seat” because you think those are the lyrics.
…OK well they can laugh at that, because that’s kind of funny, but it should be a loving laugh, not a mean laugh.
…”Forget” to invite you.
…Tell you that you’re anything less than what you are. You are wonderful.
…”Lose” your stuff.
…Let money ruin your friendship.
…Talk about you behind your back, unless it’s really complimentary shit, like, “Almie would hate anyone to know this but she keeps Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet, is well-versed in etiquette and extraordinarily nice.”

Me with my dear friend Erik from my Andy Warhol themed birthday party in 2005.

But what do you do if you realize that you have one of those dreaded “poison friends”? Those friends that are pure poison to you and your life? Those who weigh you down like an anvil and you’re Wile E. Coyote? Or maybe in that case they’re the Roadrunner and they’re trying to blow you up (and I think I’m mixing metaphors here)?

You need to cut them out of your life. You NEED to. I know, I know, the idea of being home alone on a Saturday night or with no one to text when you’re feeling awkward in public and need to text someone is scary. But you’re BETTER OFF WITHOUT. Life can be hard enough without surrounding yourself with people who don’t believe in you! You owe it to yourself. You are the best friend you could have, true, but you’re going to need someone else when you get sick of yourself. That’s what your secondary best friend is for! And it’s OK if you DON’T have a “best friend” — some people have lots of friends as opposed to one they single out — IT’S OK! Just don’t waste your time with people who drag you down because you’re too good for that shit. Remember, YOU leave YOU decide.

This photo has NOTHING to do with ANYTHING.

Now get out there, turn the world on with your smile, and find your Rhoda! Or your Mary. IT’S OK TO BE RHODA. RHODA WAS AWESOME AND SHE HAD HER OWN SHOW TOO. SO DON’T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT!

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My Dream Funeral

Jul

2009

Dream weddings are so 1996. Oh I know what you’re thinking: “Gee Almie, sounds to me like you just picked an arbitrary date.” WELL OK I FUCKING DID. THERE’S NOTHING WRONG WITH 1996, I ADMIT IT. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW? LOOK AT THE ANGUISH YOU’VE CAUSED. GO TO YOUR ROOM. EAT A SHARPIE.

But back to my perfect funeral. First of all, I’m going to have to demand it have a costume party theme. Something like this:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/alltherage/images/2008/03/28/37231193.jpg

But I really want guests to take it to the next level. Like my brother better be in a fucking mascot costume and I want a Michael Jackson impersonator to perform the service:

YES, I KNOW THAT THIS IS A PHOTO OF THE REAL MICHAEL JACKSON; DON’T EMAIL ME. I CAN TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A FAKE MICHAEL JACKSON AND THE REAL ONE. What I can’t understand is why Bette Midler is sitting on David Bowie’s lap. And why Cher seems so pissed off about all of this. WHERE’S THE LOVE, CHER?

Now as for my body, I don’t want to be buried or cremated; I want my body to be propped up like a puppet but with Abe Lincoln animatronic technology so that I can wave to guests as they enter. Just sit me on a chair, play a recording of my voice saying, “Hey guys!” and have my arm wave back and forth. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I mean this is the year 00s, this is serious future shit, animatronic technology should be available.

the prettiest star — bowie should play as you enter the service and the theme from The Mary Tyler Moore show should play as you exit. Better yet, someone should hire a band to play the Mary Tyler Moore theme live.

I want to be buried in this outfit:

OR to be made up like Laura Palmer in “Twin Peaks” in her prom outfit. NOT after they found her in plastic.

Please serve only champagne and In-N-Out at the reception and have the same band that performed the MTM theme song play “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” but ONLY in German OR dutch. Play NO OTHER SONGS. Just alternate between those two.

I WANT THERE TO BE BALLOON ANIMALS. As each person gives their eulogy (or “Eugoogolie”, to quote Zoolander — fuck, scratch that, I demand that everyone call it a eugoogolie –) they MUST have a balloon animal on their person. And balloon hats; but not if it interferes with their costume. The costume is CRUCIAL. And I cannot stress this enough: IT MUST BE A REAL COSTUME, NOT SOME BULLSHIT WHERE YOU PUT ON A WHITE JACKET AND SAY, “OH I’M A DOCTOR” — YOU BETTER RENT A COSTUME OR MAKE A DAMN GOOD ONE FOR MY FUNERAL.

Finally, the most important thing, is that I want everyone to have a good time. Value my life, be sad over my death, and eat lots of burgers. Play kazoos as you follow the processional. Make Phil Spector jokes. Tell funny stories about what an ass I was.

And I promise to do the same for you.

Though I will likely be escorted out of the building.

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Karaoke.

Jun

2009

HEY GANG!

I’ve been MIA lately (I’ve got more records than the KGB, too). I’ve been sick. I got a CANKER SORE in my THROAT. I had constant throat pain. I was on vicodin and something even stronger.

But the great news is that I lost a lot of weight! Sadly I think I may have gained it all back at this point. But I’ve never been so thin in my life. I guess that will happen when you can’t eat solid food for a week.

Now I guess I have to rely on eating well and exercising. It’s 2009 haven’t we found something easier yet? Someone should make a pill that decreases your appetite the way it does when you’re sick without totally damaging your immune system. Or I could just take a bunch of diet pills with a bunch of caffeine pills and see what happens. I’m guessing it will be a “On this very special episode of ‘Saved By The Bell'” moment.

I am so lazy. Exercise is a perpetual chore that has seemingly no end unless I want to be fat and miserable for the rest of my life. I have found though that Karaoke is fantastic exercise, although the risk of embarrassment is far greater. Or maybe not, I often trip when I jog, and it seems like I’m constantly pulling my sweatpants up.

Karaoke will take you from this:

(a perfectly polished nice lady, with an admittedly messy room)

to this:

(a beast. OF BURDEN! see it’s funny because that’s what I was singing at the time.)

My favorite songs to whip out for Karaoke are “Poker Face”, “Bitch”, “Beast of Burden”, anything by Winehouse, “One Way Or Another” and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme song. I gotta say though, I am very serious about my Karaoke and I kind of hate it when people hog the mic. It’s like, we listened to your very special rendition of “Lady In Red” now please give me the mic before I grind your bones to make my bread.

But one of my absolutely favorite ways to Karaoke is to “Shatnerize” everything. You know, sit on a stool (preferably with a cigarette) and talk your way through the song. Shatnerizing works especially well with David Bowie songs, for some reason, which is what I did with “Starman”:

I…didn’t know what…time it was.
The lights were…low.
I leaned back on my…radio.
Some cat. Was laying down some rock and or roll.
“Lotta soul!!”
He said.

Try it sometime. Finally I prefer Karaoke in front of a crowd as opposed to having a private room. When I’m in a private room I feel like I’m just playing Rock Band and I’m thinking, I paid $26.41 for this? But when you’re in front of a crowd it’s SERIOUS. BUSINESS. It’s fun. It’s exciting. It’s REAL. Real awesome.

In conclusion, my all-time Karaoke goal is to duet with Adam Lambert. I might settle for Zachary Quinto.

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