Pfunksfoolosophy

As you know,  I’ve had insomnia for a couple of weeks now. It’s starting to make me just a little loopy. At work yesterday I couldn’t stop speaking with a sort of faux upper crust British accent. EVERYTHING I said was like “Eugenia Pithcart-Jones”, my alter ego. I was getting on my own nerves while making the patrons of my establishment laugh…bemusedly I am assuming. * sigh* What is wrong with me? Do I have to give in to every whim? Am I just too silly for my own good? I will do things just because it amuses me. I wil try to coerce others to do things because it will bring me pleasure.

This is not a good thing. This is not the behavior of a rational person. I’ve got a rich fantasy life, I must say. If I could have one phone call to a celebrity it would be to Barbra Streisand so I could sing ‘The Main Event’ so SHE could get it stuck in her head all day. That song is gonna make me nuts one day.
I picture her snuggled up with her husband James Brolin (still hot after all these years) and the phone rings. She picks up and I commence to singing. THEN I just hang up.
He asks  her who it was and she says, ‘Some crazy person singing “the  main event”. She  said “See how YOU like it now” and hung up’ then it dawns on her that she’s got the song stuck in her head.

WHY do I think that’s funny? Because I am demented. I wish I had a movie camera. At least Youtube would get me a following. Instead, I’m up at this hour watching a crappy movie on cable.

“Made in America” with Whoopi and Ted Danson. Why, mama? This movie is bad.

Guess I could pop in a video. OR I could watch Auntie Mame. That is my comfort movie. When all else fails, I’ve got Mame to keep me company and cheer me up. I just wish I had a movie that would put me to sleep. This one might do it.

Yikes.  Maybe I should work on my book. Yeah. Okay…

Pffft. I’m gonna take two painkillers and a bottle of vodka. If you see  photos of me on the internet, I hope I look presentable.

Pray for my speedy recovery.

My dear friend and I made reservations at Perilla, which is Harold Dieterle’s (Top Chef Season 1 winner) new restaurant in the West Village in NYC. I phoned in the reservation and made it for the ‘Speidemanns’–that’s right. Spiderman…but with the logical spelling of a nice Jewish family. The hostess paused for a minute and asked, “Spiderman?”

Me: Let me spell it for you, darling….(i proceeded to spell it slowly)

Already, the fun begins…ah, yes. My clever plan. My pal and I are silly. We’re mischievous. We’re insane. Later, he and I exchanged emails about our attire, our demeanor and a host of other possibilities to ensure that we would fulfill our comedy fantasy. I came up with a first name for Mr. Speidemann. Claude. Perfection, right? Claude would need to wear an ascot. My friend doesn’t own one. Pity.

Okay, the evening arrived and we met for drinks. I was really excited to try the skate, as that’s a fave fish of mine. We had a plan for our arrival and we got into character. It was beautiful.

We arrived, ‘Claude’ stepped up to the hostess and said, ‘Speidemann. Table for two’ without so much as a smirk. I was laughing inside. A giggle was just behind my teeth, I tell you. We were shown to our table and nothing more was said.

Claude selected a nice wine from Argentina (you can’t go wrong with those folks) and tucked into our appetizers. Spicy duck meatballs for me and carpaccio for him. Nice. I enjoyed mine and we split them so I could taste his. Gotta tell ya…the carpaccio should have been called salad with some raw beef. Mind you, the beef was great and it was served with caperberries (my fave) but it was light in the meat department. The meatballs were great, if a little overcooked and I felt that the quail egg wasn’t absolutely necessary. It added some depth, but I think that the jus stood on its own. That’s just me.

Okay, on to the entree…Skate wing for me and Wolf fish for him. I love skate. I adore it. Tender, slightly sweet…that lovely crunchiness when prepared properly…hey, man…what’s this? SALTY. Aww, come on.  Bear in mind that it was served with pastrami and cabbage.

I think that the chef didn’t take into account the saltiness inherent in pastrami and just over salted the fish. The flavors were all there. It was delicious, but the salt got to me. Mind you, I ate nearly all of it, but when the waiter (Robert) asked me how things were as he cleared my plate I had to tell him that I think the chef was heavy handed with the salt. He looked stricken and said that he wished I had told him earlier as they would have prepared something else. I told him that since I had eaten nearly all of it, I obviously enjoyed the flavors. No worries. He was inconsolable.

I shrugged. My dinner companion shrugged. Eh. Whattaya gonna do? I am particularly sensitive to salt because I don’t use it when I cook. The food was excellent so we thought nothing of it. Asked for the dessert menu. Decided on coffee.

When we received our check, Robert told us that he had taken the entree off of our bill. It was our turn to act stricken. That wasn’t our intent and we made that clear to him. He would hear nothing of it and told us that the chef wanted us to be happy and hoped that we would come back.

I have to tell ya…I think I will. It’s clearly not in my budget to do it any time soon, but you know what? They made us feel welcome. It was the way I would like my own restaurant to be in that they wanted you to enjoy the food. “You’re in my home and I’m cooking for you” ya know? So I can understand why Robert insisted on comping the entree.

On our comment card we stressed how we didn’t want to be comped.

Claude signed it ‘your friendly neighborhood Speidemann’.
I love him.

You know, growing up I always wanted to have a swinging bachelorette apartment like the one Mary Richards had in Minneapolis. I didn’t want to live in Minneapolis and I didn’t want to be an associate producer, but I sure wanted to be able to walk into my sunken living room/bedroom and have a walk-in closet/powder room. She had a swingin’ pad, ya know? The shag carpeting, the cool stained glass doors on her kitchen/bar thingy…she had a lot of ’slash’ features in her pad, but it was so groovy.
I suppose it was groovy to me because she was single. Most women on television back in the seventies were married. Devoted moms who cherished their kids and encouraged their husbands. Where was the career girl who wasn’t a big ho?
Stewardesses were dodgy, morally speaking back then. Ain’t it funny? Sexism was pervasive. Mary Tyler Moore broke new ground for women.

She was single, she was learning to stand up for herself and she wasn’t emasculating the way single career women were portrayed back then. Heck, sometimes they’re portrayed that way now. But now, there’s  a difference. Women who remain in the home to raise their families have to apologize for not having a career outside the home.

It takes courage to stay home and slowly lose your mind. It takes a measure of resilience to endure hours of the same Disney movie without becoming the ‘Lady and The Tramp’ Serial DVD Killer. I’m not saying that movies babysit your kids every day, but when you’re trying to clean the house, and the kids want to watch ‘The Little Mermaid’ over and over again…movies can be your best friend.

Your bank account seems more important than your humanity these days. I’ve spoken to a lot of women over the years and it seems the younger generation is interested in starting a new breed of yuppie. Yikes, man. They don’t even understand the strides women have made. They take it all for granted. There is no heart in what they do for the most part. I guess that’s why I cherish Mary and Rhoda so much.

They were cool, single, and trying to figure it all out. They let me know that it’s okay to make mistakes in your life as long as you can grow from it. They didn’t coddle one another, they encouraged.  Cool and heady stuff for an impressionable kid growing up in the suburbs.
Anyway, I’m wondering who your role models were. I’m wondering if you wanted to be ‘Julia’ (remember that one?), maybe you wanted to be ‘Jennifer’ from WKRP…maybe you wanted to be Johnny Fever. Whatever the case, tell me. I’d love to hear about it.

Hey there gang.

I have been listening to some ‘mix’ CDs that I made last year. They make me so happy. Why do they make me so happy? Well, because I have compiled songs from my childhood. Yep, that’s right. I am a child of the late sixties and seventies. So, one minute I might want to listen to Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell and the next I might just need to hear Helen Reddy singing ‘That Ain’t No Way to Treat a Lady’ (okay, so I won’t NEED to, but you get the point).
Some of the tunes on these CDs are pure unadulterated crap–’Alone Again, Naturally’ comes to mind in the crap category, but it was on the radio during my formative years, so I had to have it on my Sad Songs and Seconal compilation CD. Have you ever listened to the lyrics of that one? Yikes, man. He’s gonna commit suicide. Parents didn’t complain about music back then like they do now. Dude, they SHOULD have.

Another one is ‘At Seventeen’ by Janis Ian. Wow, if you were one of those girls with ‘ravaged faces’ you might have been saving up the St. Joseph’s children’s aspirin… There was a LOT of depressing, angst ridden stuff out there, but there were also some cool Jim Croce songs like ‘Workin’ at the carwash blues’, ‘Roller Derby Queen’ and of course, ‘Operator’, my particular favorite for after break up blues.

Hey, what’s your guilty pleasure song? Is it something by a group you just can’t name in public (like the Go-Go’s?)? Is it by Barry Manilow? At the Copa is a groovy number. Dramatic and has that catchy chorus… I can’t decide on my favorite guilty pleasure tune, which is why I have them all on my mix CDs. I label them according to their particular ‘kink’ so to speak…you know, ’suicide songs’, ‘what the heck were they thinking?’, ‘no more tears’ (donna summer and barbra streisand numbers), ‘funky and cool’ (james brown, fred wesley, parliament/funkadelic), ‘gay but okay’ (now when I say ‘gay’ I mean in the seventh grade sense, not the homosexual sense. big difference)…you get the idea.

So, I’d like to know what you consider guilty pleasure music. Comment and let me know.

You might just get a nicely burned CD from yours truly if the play list is particulary enjoyable. Or funny. Or just plain strange. Stranger things have happened.

The keywords people use to get to my site.

The last juicy one(s) were ‘the winkie guard song’….since I mentioned the addle-pated winkies in one of my posts, I received a couple of visitors. That’s nice. I wish they’d leave a comment or two. I’m also getting a lot of action from Sweden. I can’t figure that one out, but that’s groovy. Any country that can produce Marcus Schenkenberg AND gravlax is juuust fine with me. Good looking men and smelly, but yummy pickled fish? Great combo.

That’s just plain sick…but kinda funny, right?
Well, here’s another thing I love: it’s raining here in the big onion, which makes it feel like autumn. I can’t wait for the fall. Sweaters, that crisp clean air…the feeling in your bones that is sooo comforting and romantic…ah, autumn…they write songs about autumn. It’s the single most romantic time of the year and New York is the place to be…

As the leaves turn and the weather grows cooler, I succumb to the urge to cuddle up with a nice young gentleman caller. (His name for now is “Racer X”) Central Park, a blanket, a bottle of wine and a great view is all I need to fall in love. (that and a good supply of condoms)
That last bit was uncalled for, but it made me laugh.

My mom doesn’t have a computer. It’s a good thing. It would be a shame for her to read that last part, wouldn’t it?
What do you love? Are you looking forward to the turning leaves and cool, crisp air, bonfires and…I feel all kindsa dreamy…gonna have to take a lie down.

OH! By the way…the insomnia is not completely under control, but I’m getting to bed before the sun peeks out to say hullo. There’s something to be said for prayer.

Take care, stay dry and keep on keepin’ on, kids!

You may have noticed that I haven’t written in a couple of days. Well, it’s because I’ve been trying to figure out how to write about someone I’ve admired for the better part of my life.

Max Roach was arguably the greatest drummer in jazz. Plain and simple. He was self taught, he was magical, he was brilliant and he was the MAN on those skins. As a kid, bebop just spoke to me the way no other music could. I loved Mingus, Parker, and being a horn player myself, Dizzy…that freewheeling style seemed without structure, but it had a brilliant elegance, a cohesiveness that made my heart soar.

Max Roach was that cool jazz guy, ya know? He was always entertaining. He was always innovative and he was always learning. How many musicians can say that? True artists don’t rest on their laurels…or their backsides…True artists test the boundaries and create new ones.
I’m going to miss that guy… a lot. We don’t have many of the old guard left. Even if you don’t love jazz as much as I do, even if you’ve never thought once about bebop, take a listen to Max. You’ll see where a great many drummers get their style.

Although there are really no comparisons…listen to Keith Moon play on Live at Leeds. Then listen to Max Roach on ‘We Insist! Freedom Now Suite’…

If you are a lover of jazz, remember that brilliance the next time you get your tickets to the Newport Jazz festival or go to the Vanguard. There will never be another Max Roach.

Max was an activist as well as a musician and I admired him enormously; I miss him already.

Okay, so I am a little nuts about Physics and the time travel thing…I’m fascinated, you understand.

Well,  get a load of this: it seems that some German physicists have broken the speed of light. Check it out…

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/ear…eed116.xml

 Okay, it doesn’t mean that it’s possible…it just means that Einstein, my other boyfriend, sorta limited himself…because he didn’t have the technology. Imagine that? I think that Hawking would still be right about creating  a paradox–especially if you could arrive before you left…yikes.

How cool is this discovery, though?
Yes, yes…I know…I’m a dork.

I may have to go back to school. I LOVE Physics. Well, astrophysics.

Catchy title meant to entice you, but in all truth…not much of a caper.

I placed an ad, it clearly stated my likes, dislikes and specified that I wasn’t interested in bitter married men. Now, a reasonable person would have thought, ’she’s not into married guys’ NOT, ‘well, I’m married but not bitter…I’m gonna give it a whirl…detailing my sexual prowess-at length’.

Should have been a whole lot more specific. Why? Well, my last email exchange was with a married man who was looking for ‘that spark’. I suggested he try to recapture the aforementioned with his spouse as I was not interested. He decided to debate the point. Big. Mistake.

I asked him why he got married if he was only going to disregard his vows. He told me that his wife (you guessed it) doesn’t understand him and his passions. I asked him why he married her. He told me that he loved her. She just wasn’t as sexual as he was. I couldn’t believe my eyes and told him as much. Told him to give me her email address.

The dude STILL emailed me asking me why I wouldn’t meet with him. I asked him if he had any mental problems for which a good dose of thorazine might be indicated. He didn’t see the  humor and called me emasculating.  Seems to me his manhood is intact. He’s got great big balls to cruise craigslist for women when he’s married. He didn’t like that response but had to have the last word. I didn’t want the last word. I used two.

Hmm…good stuff. I wonder how many married people have the nerve to go fishin’ in the singles pond but not enough to speak with their partner about their impending infidelity…

Wouldn’t it be easier to talk things out or go to therapy instead of betraying your spouse? I’m single for a reason. I take those vows very seriously and I’m mistrustful by nature.

(actually, I’m not. I know that I’m immature and selfish. and a slut)

I wish I could send out a newsletter with the email addresses of the married men who respond to my ads. What kind of idiot thinks his wife doesn’t  know how to read? ONE guy even has his photo on CL and  directed me to it! If I can see it, chances are his wife or one of her friends can too.

What a bunch of maroons. Communication is key in a relationship…all relationships. It’s not splitting the atom, here…sheesh.

Off to delete more emails.

It’s a fact that I come from a tight knit bunch. My mother is my best friend and she’s a ball of fire, that old broad. She’s also a pain denier…comes from a long  line of folks who just ‘keep on ticking’. My grandpa, her dad, was the type to drive  himself to the hospital when he was having a heart attack. To him it was an annoyance rather than a life threatening illness. Yeah, we just keep moving forward.

So it came as no surprise that Mom called early last week to tell me that she was going in for surgery at the beginning of next month. For a hernia. She’s been living with that pain for about SIX YEARS. I didn’t have the heart to rag at her. She thinks she’s ten feet tall and bullet proof and to tell ya the truth, I have often believed it.

So I’m going down to NC to take care of her. It will be great to see her since I’ve not seen her since October of last year. Can you believe it? That’s a mighty long  time for me…the gal who has the world’s longest umbilical cord.

I’m excited. I’ll get to hang out with Mom, and the  kids, finish my cookbook and blog in peace.

I need the break from the city. While I love NYC, it’s starting to get to me. I’m not  as bouncy and shiny and happy these days. Could be the lack of rest. Could be that I haven’t been in nature for a while…I don’t know.

The important thing is that I’ll be in the company of family. In the bosom of my mommy’s love. Taking a break from craigslist and the penis pictures and married men.

That’s for another post.

Keep reading. It’s not exciting, but it’s different.

Well, gang…it’s about that time…I placed  another ad on craigslist seeking a male companion.

What is happening? I’m starting to recognize the penis photos. Yep, getting a bunch of the same guys responding. This makes me wonder what it is about my writing that prompts the ‘i’ll show you mine just because’ kinda guys…

I’m also receiving responses from married men and I was very clear in my ad that I didn’t want to receive responses from the married. Not looking to hook up with a cheater. It’s not my style. I would LOVE to have the email address of their wives. Just forward it along and see what happens. They’re bold enough to reply to me, so what’s wrong with me doing that? Hmmm…karma has her own ideas, I suppose.

Okay, so anyway…the pickin’s are getting mighty slim these days. I was specific regarding the age range, but a lot of older men have been ignoring that. If you can’t understand that I don’t want to date a much older man, you probably don’t possess the intellect that I desire.

Whoa, man…it’s getting good. Just received an email detailing the  man’s prowess in the sack. Sign me up! My mom would LOVE to hear about that!

Peeps, whattaya think? Is it worth it for me to keep plugging away at this craigslist thing or should I just keep on moving without regard for how I meet a guy?
It’s not like I’m desperate…I think I may be addicted to receiving email from strangers and then making fun of them.

Hmmm. Gonna have to figure this one out. In the meantime, I guess I’ll have slog through the emails and try dating… I’ll keep you posted.