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January 16, 2004 #
It's Friday and that means it's time to take out the trash... # # # Upstate Travel Diary, Entry #34 As I stood atop Olana and surveyed Frederic Church's 19th century Hudson River Valley, I tried to imagine virgin blue mountains and origins of an unspoiled waterway that would later become an influential conduit of commerce. But all I could really think about was diphtheria, arthritic pain during winter, and the old woman in the gift shop bitching about the lack of handicap access. "And awaaaay we go!"    
# # # Conde Nast fashion update. Beat me with a rubber-boot... CN: so it turns out that there is a dark side to the candy-colored galoshes TOP: what, sweat-shop produced? CN: TWO actually CN: a) you feel RIDICULOUS. like, why am i wearing these b/c no one has tight enough jeans. at least i don't. so you have a baggy-knee problem and it's too cold for skirts. TOP: ahh, so they're pretty much just for running around in your apartment nude CN: SEX in boots! good idea. TOP: of course. continue. CN: and b) either i'm hungover, or the SMELL emanating from these things is making me ill TOP: are you sure you're not in the 9th floor bathroom? CN: ugh. but i have gotten three compliments, so i guess it might be worth it? TOP: no doubt CN: i am sporting one other piece of day-glo wear, too. bright bright green long sleeved t-shirt with jeans and the hot pink boots. i look like... CN: what do i look like? TOP: a gay welder on st patrick's day CN: i was thinking "april 2003" # # # Guest Editor Chris Gage likes to read in the bathroom. I bet you never thought of doing that, huh? Though I've been a subscriber for years, Entertainment Weekly consistently lets me down. (Not an earth-shattering statement, I realize.) For instance, the fact that Dalton Ross hasn't gone Casey Kasem on in its pages is a bigger disappointment to me than "Requiem for a Dream" was to the Coney Island Beautification and Tourist Board. However, occasionally EW gets it right, like a recent issue in which the cover photo was two interchangeable blonds (who I'm sure will fail to become anything more spiriting than a trivia question for the remainder of their careers) and the Rocketeer who makes me blast off. Clearly EW is not heady reading but it is perfect reading for the head: the articles are short, stupid, and written by senile scribes, so it's the first rag I reach for when I squat for a plop. Without caring what's in its pages, I grab the nearest issue to spend my twenty-seven minutes in heaven pinching. And. . .here's what they get right. . .nothing cracks me up more than ogling the cover beauties as my mulholland falls. It's hard to crap when you're laughing about how funny it is to crap while looking at three damsels giving cover photo come-hither looks. Your abs tense up (among other things) and your body just doesn't want to produce with this meta-postmodern quandary you are in. Try it, I promise less than relieving results. You'll be back in there within the half hour. Do like I do and keep a Popular Mechanics in there to quell this problem. A good article on laying pipe always calms the juvenile mind. Archives "The Other Page" powered by Removable Hype. Copyright © 2003 La Otra Página, Inc. All nights observed. Feel free to email "info(at)krucoff.com" for questions, comments, stock tips, and family gossip. |
