Category Archives: historical and hysterical

True story. Filed 8/23/05.

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Anyway, about two weeks ago, I was driving down the street, on my way into work.  Some jackass in a Mustang (ed. note: those two things are often synonymous) kept racing/weaving/darting in and out of traffic, only to still get caught at the same lights that I was.

From the junebug-green Mustang, his stereo was thumping loudly and I tried to just ignore it.  But when he pulled up next to me, I was shocked.  I figured it would be Snoop, Sublime, 50 Cent, etc.  But no– what I thought I was hearing was something far different.

I slyly cracked the window to confirm that my ears weren’t deceiving me.  And yes, there it was– unmistakeably and at top volume–

Juice Newton’s “Queen of Hearts.”

I tell you, the joker ain’t the only fool…

-mig.

Confessions from a Starbucks. April 14, 2005.

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I’m here at a Starbucks in NYC, using their wireless internet. (There are about 40 Starbucks in lower Manhattan… it makes it very easy for me to get online.) It’s a very large store– the largest one I’ve seen– there are about 50 tables’ worth of people sitting down engaged in various activities. In the past couple hours of sitting here working on the computer, here’s what I’ve seen inside this store:

  • one guy who locked himself in the bathroom and wouldn’t come out, resulting in a hilarious shouting match through the door between him and the management. He wasn’t even a homeless person– he was a nicely-dressed, paying customer.
  • One old guy in a leather motorcycle jacket, slowly blowing up several balloons for no obvious reason.
  • The proverbial “guy talking to himself.” I have a feeling that in Manhattan, this is a rather standard thing to see.
  • Just now, some man came in, followed by three young girls. He held a light-up plastic sword aloft. They all slowly conducted their own parade through the store, then left.

The other day on the subway, I saw a bumfight and a guy playing bagpipes.

Thank you, universe, for the puppet show you’ve given me here in New York!

I need your (quick!) vote.

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I’m entered in the Viva Las Vegas burlesque contest, and I need your votes to help make it into the finals! To vote, go to the Viva Las Vegas site, then click the “Burlesque competition” link. Then… VOTE FOR THE MONKEY. Or just use this link to go directly to the voting page. It logs IP addresses to prevent blatant ballot stuffing. But I hope you will all vote for me anyway to help put me in the finals, which are in Vegas in March. Thanks! -Gorilla X, Gorilla to the Stars

 

Incongruity.

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Okay. I’m down in Los Angeles. There are two things of note here, quite in conflict with each other, but not really separable.

First– let’s talk about The Grove. I came to this place yesterday; it is like the Ultimate Mall– it’s not just a shopping center, but it is carefully designed to be almost some sort of destination… a place to bring the whole family… with dancing water fountains, a santa and sleigh suspended between two buildings, and other incredibly contrived shit like that.Almost (but not quite) as contrived as Santana Row, which adds fucking APARTMENTS to the mix so that you literally never have to leave. Not quite as bad as that, but still in the same family tree.

Now mind you, in the last month, I have been to this mall more times than I have been to ALL OTHER MALLS IN THE PAST SEVERAL YEARS TOTAL. I absolutely loathe malls for this reason: every single square inch of them is designed to take away your money. And rarely do they sell you anything that you actually need. If you go to a mall, chances are that you are going to drop $50, $100, or even more… and you really won’t be any better off than if you’d just gone home instead and not stopped there.

So yes, I detest malls. But I seem to keep finding myself at this one. (There is a high degree of correlation between this, and the fact that my girlie works there. How about that.) But that doesn’t mean I like this place. It’s like a square block chock-full of every single thing that I hate about Los Angeles, a town that I’m otherwise trying to make my peace with.

Last night was especially bad. The Grove had some sort of holiday tree-lighting bullshit, complete with choir, Dionne Warwick, VIP seating, hosted by Jimmy Kimmel, broadcast by radio stations, etc.

Do you see why I hate this? NONE of that stuff matters in life. None of it.

But the fatass that owns The Grove wants you to think it does, because by your merely going there, chances are quite high that you will drop that $50, $100, or more. I don’t want to be a curmudgeon, but what sort of cause for celebration is lighting a tree? Even in the grandest of Christmas spirits, this is a non-event. Yet the fanfare that accompanied this was incredible: red carpets, VIP seating, and television commercials.

The event was a chaotic nightmare, unlike anything I’ve seen in years. I was stuck, waiting for Maya to get off work. I spent the time in a bookstore. When I emerged, the place had suddenly become overrun with thousands of swarming people. It was shoulder-to-shoulder; nobody moving; families with strollers trying to push through the crowd. It took ten minutes to go a few hundred feet. But what made it worse was that there were NO PATHWAYS, no areas designated for through traffic. It was a TOTAL MOB. Three fire trucks and dozens of police were there; but they weren’t directing foot traffic at all, instead they were just standing there looking official. I became totally exasperated when my only escape route was barricaded off and I could not escape.

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Then today, I’ve found myself at The Grove again. I took a little break and went to the movie theater and watched The Motorcycle Diaries.

My choice of movie was mostly dictated by this: what is starting soon, so that I can get back to my official employment, that I was playing hooky from? So I decided on that. And although I’m not otherwise really huge on Che Guevara, I will take a biography (especially a highly rated one) over the usual schlock any day.

First, more than half the movie took place in Peru, filmed at places I’ve been. Viva la homeland!

Beyond that, though, I was not expecting the movie to be so marvelous. Rather than pay attention to the little seedlings of Guevara’s revolutionary thought– which it could easily have done– the film instead was an interesting study of motivation, and discovery. It’s a study of two friends who start with the same direction, but end up diverging onto their own roads through life. It’s an story of a person’s discovering their life’s calling; and an examination of things that go through a young male mind: the push-pull between leaving the nest and discovering the world, and the instinct to settle down and nest. It was a peek into a mind that saw through BS and remained true to his self. Whether or not this romanticizes Guevara’s later life is irrelevant, because the focus here was on a young man’s discovery of the world and himself.

So after the movie, I stayed and watched the credits, which included real footage of Guevara’s road trip buddy, Alberto Granado, now an aged man. For several minutes, I just stayed there and pondered the things that I always ponder: where am I in the world? What direction is it going in? What am I doing to Make Shit Happen in my life? How can I make a difference? What can I do to make sure I see past the white noise, and give emphasis to what matters, and dismiss that which doesn’t?

And so I emerged from the movie theater, feeling uplifted and encouraged, only to find that I was once again in… The Grove.

I am in a new book about burlesque. You will buy it.

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There is a new, fabulous book out and I am featured in it! Both in text, and a very snazzy picture.

It is Michelle Baldwin’s “Burlesque and the New Bump-n-Grind.”

The book also features many friends of mine, and a lot of Myspacers, like: Kitten on the Keys and Eva von Slut, and my dear friend Nico. Also pictured in it are Mia More andAnna Bells. So is my cousin, in a crowd shot!!

The book itself is really well done. And I’m on page 104. 🙂     (For anyone who doesn’t know, I’ve performed with many burlesque acts, and have been a part of the modern burlesque movement for a few years.)

Check it out at Amazon or your local bookstore. Or better yet– contact SUZY and order a copy directly from her, she ships right away and she gets a small percentage so help her out. Incidentally, it’s Suzy’s legendary backside that graces the front cover.

So here it is– and contact Suzy to get your copy!!!

Why does this always happen to ME?

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Last night, I was on my way home, and decided to stop for a slice at Mystic Pizza at about 10pm. As I was sitting there quietly munching my slice, some random scruffy stinky homeless guy came in, ignored the other five people there, and then beelined straight to me. Triumphantly, he pulled a fresh, clean white t-shirt out of nowhere and handed it to me, exclaiming: “THERE! Now that leaves just one more, for the ski team!” I expected him to ask for money for the shirt but he didn’t– instead, he just bolted, never to be seen again. I left the t-shirt there, by the way. Anyway, those of you who know me, know that I’m a magnet for this stuff. I don’t really understand why, but it does seem to always happen to ME and not other people.

Amusing cubicle exercise

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From a guy on the Familyhood list… This has had us in stitches at work. << -This is soooo stupid but true…and it’s going to drive you crazy! While sitting at your desk, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles. Now, while doing this, draw the number “6” in the air with your right hand. Your foot will change direction and there’s nothing you can do about it!>>

Dumbest conversation of 2003

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This weekend, I had the pleasure of running into a guy who was responsible for the Singlemost Stupidest Conversation I’ve had in all of 2003. In fact, it is probably the dumbest conversation I’ve had in the entire new millennium, without any others even coming close. So I shall now share it with all of you, so that you can see that there are indeed people out there who defy the odds against their own survival. I shall refer to him as “Keanu” because he not only looks like Keanu Reeves, but also talks like him, and seems to channel him very well. The conversation, if it could even be called that, went like this: Keanu: So where did you grow up? Mig: San Diego. Keanu: (incredulously, as if some major connection had been made) REALLY?!? (pause)… I dated a girl from San Diego once. end of conversation. What’s great is that my friend Ryan, also from San Diego, has had the exact same conversation with this fellow.