| [May 19 2004] |
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Bugger Me!
Dear bar tender woman in the Standard,
I have been in a lot of bars in my time, and I MEAN, a lot. I have to say that without a shred of doubt you are the biggest most unpleasant bitch it has ever been my misfortune to run across. You are foul, surly, nasty, unhelpful, unpleasant and clearly you have a lot of issues. You should become a civil servant.
So, last night was incredible fun, despite my fears, and my provoking a last minute crisis when I absolutely HAD to piss just before I went on and everybody thought I was fleeing in panic. Many thanks to the fabulous Chris who covered gamely for me.
It was a fine cast, I think all present will agree.
- LustyLady was dead funny and gave us free porn, so we like her a lot.
- JessyDelfino is a total bitch because she's so funny and professional she made me feel small and inadequate, and besides that she really ought to be on TV.
- GirlyNYC has now given me a new thing to be scared of, pierced genitalia. Thanks.
- Ultragrrrl is just so cool and and laid back and effortlessly smart you want to hate her but you can't.
- Nichelle smothers people with her buttocks and stole my Roberta Flack intro. Really.
- Lindsay didn't fall over embarrassingly or stutter or look really ugly or be totally unfunny, now matter how much I wanted her to. Damn.
- JamyeWaxman wrote about her first kiss the way I want to write about my first kiss - only better.
It was really rather nice to spend the evening with such nice, funny, clever writers. Beats the shit out of watching anorexics fall over at the Lincoln Centre. And it's cheaper, too.
So here's what I read last night. Sadly, it's all true.
"The first time I ever went to Schillers Liquor Bar it was full of cunts. Metaphorical cunts, although obviously there were vaginas there, I just couldn’t see them at the time because the women were wearing knickers, or so I imagine. I mean, I can’t guarantee that they were all wearing knickers, I’m just telling you that I personally did not glimpse any vaginas that day. No, the metaphorical cunts were sitting Italianly around a table in their faux-80’s electroclash leg warmers and lace fingerless mittens. One particularly objectionable wanker was wearing dungarees and a stud belt.
They sat there, their laughter tinkling with self-regard, sublimely confident that everyone was looking at them and wanted to be them. My hatred was almost gleeful. I wanted to walk over and tell them that even in this veritable temple of pseudo-intellectual wannabe media hipster wankerdom, they still looked like utter fucking twats.
You see, these 20-something arseholes haven’t EARNED THE RIGHT to look like a cunt. They didn’t HAVE TO DO IT all through their teenage years in the 1980s because that was all that was in the shops if you didn’t want to be dressed by your mother and spend the rest of your life as the smelly weirdo, picking scabs and pissing down your leg in solitary confinement at the back of the classroom. I had to look like that, they had a choice. Choose life, Willamsburg. Stop being so painful and irritating.
Speaking of painful and irritating reminds me of the first time someone tried to bugger me. It came as something of a shock. You see, when I was growing up anal sex didn’t exist. Nor did penetration really. The first porn I saw was page 3 of the Sun. A topless large-breasted young lady in lacy knickers who listed her hobby as macramé. That's making handicrafts out of knotted string.
The next porn was a magazine that was passed around my class and nearly got me expelled from my convent school. Suffice to say I was caught with it in my schoolbag by my mother, and had to formally witness its ceremonial burning on the compost heap while she prayed for my soul. She sexually suspected me for the rest of her life. She had a point.
Later on, I saw some vaginas in a magazine a boyfriend brought back from Amsterdam. Gripping stuff. I remember one being this kind of pseudo-intellectual effort, called something portentous like THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF SEXUAL RELATIONS. Like Playboy, I’m sure people claimed to buy it for the articles. Of course they just skimmed over the split beavers and readers’ wives and accounts of randy truck drivers getting it on with willing hitchhikers. My mother found this porn too in the end, by cunningly searching underneath the spare tyre in my car boot. If she were still alive, Osama Bin Laden would be wearing an orange boiler suit as we speak.
So, a few more porn-free years until we get to around 1990. The Communist Block was getting freedom, and we in Britain were getting satellite TV for the first time ever. Very nice. Very nice indeed if you were into porn, as you could now access strictly illegal hardcore stuff via those nice people at the legendary channel Red Hot Dutch. On a sidenote, penetration is still not allowed in Britain, at least not on film. As the proud possessor of a law degree, I can share with you that the definition of whether a picture is obscene rests on whether the penis is at a 45 degree or more angle from the body. 44 degrees ok. 46 and it’s a fair cop, guv.
This knowledge came in handy when a colleague who routinely took pictures of all her sexual conquests, naked and post coital, rang me in a panic one day. It turned out she’d dropped off a film for processing but was worried a couple of her conquests had still been erect at the time of their portraits. We debated, using pens and post- it notes, and finally concluded that the angle had been more in the region of 30 degrees, and sort of leaning over a bit. Flaccid enough, we decided.
Anyway, the whole impact of Red Hot Dutch (which was banned by the UK government a couple of years later) was to briefly drag buggery kicking and screaming into the 20th century. I mean, of course we knew anal sex existed. But it was for boys. I had a rampant sexual imagination but I never dreamed anyone would want to stick their organ up my sphincter. I was catholic. I thought poo was sinful. I was constipated on religious grounds, for chrissake. It could have KILLED me!
So there was a brief exposure to buggery, but not long enough I think to make the definitive case for its regular practice among the heterosexual fashionistas. At this stage, it was still an elitist sport, restricted to women who shagged racing drivers or fading coke-fuelled members of Duran Duran.
Of course, my parents being alcoholic depressive luddites meant we didn’t have satellite TV. We didn’t even have colour TV or a stereo not made of wood until I was 20. So Red Hot Dutch passed me by. I discarded my virginity at the age of 18 in Greece with a speed-freak called Paul who had lost the tip of his finger in a freak deck-chair accident. It was perfunctory to the point of dull, and I was just relieved to have shed the increasingly uncool burden of my hymen.
Fast forward to 1991 and I’m sitting on the top of Primrose Hill in London on New Year’s Eve watching the fireworks and smoking a joint with my on-off fuck buddy Max. Max was living in Spain at the time, studying how to make toys. I thought that was quite exotic of him. We went back to his folks place – his mother was a conveniently permissive alcoholic – and began to have the kind of sex you have when you’re 21 and you think you’re finally grown-up because you can fuck someone without being in love with them.
We’re jogging along quite nicely when all of a sudden I feel a distinctly unfamiliar nudging at my arse. I shifted politely and he shifted insistently. I shifted warningly and he shifted persistently. Finally I asked him what the fuck he was doing. He told me he wanted to place his erect penis inside my arse. Well, that’s not quite how he said it, but essentially it was what he meant. I was momentarily stunned into silence, which he optimistically mistook for complicity, quickly launching himself into a hopeful stab.
“Fuck Off!” I yelled. “No fucking way!”. I prided myself on my sexual liberation but no man or beast was going to prod MY turds with his engorged love pump. I think I felt it violated my socialist feminist principles in some way. I can’t for the life of me now work out why. “Oh come on,” he said. “I saw it on a porn channel in Spain. It’s supposed to be fun.” It turned out that Max could access banned porn on his TV via his satellite dish. It wasn’t decoded but if he switched to the right channel and jiggled up and down on his sofa while squinting furiously at the screen, he could get the general idea. At least that’s what he told me he was doing.
Well, it was one general idea too much for me. My anus remained unviolated and we parted amicably. Ironically enough, a couple of years later I went out with a French man. Come back Max, all is forgiven."
Posted by eurotrash at 11:37 am |
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[Comments count: 50] |
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1: You were marvelous, dear! I'm so proud that we were the ones to pop your onstage cherry.
By the way, Andy tells me that the usual bartender at the Standard is really quite sweet, but yeah, that chick last night was horrid. When I inquired about cranking up the air conditioning because it was so ball-sweatin' HOT in there, she actually bitched about how she couldn't go turn it on because I'd brought in so many people! Well excuse me for bringing you some business, beeyotch! Pfft.
Posted by Chris at 12:17 pm on 05.19.04 |
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2: Stop with this nervous stuff! You were great! And the next time we do a reading together we gotta check out what song we're going to use. What about "Killing Me Softly" (with his tongue)?!
Posted by Nichelle at 12:54 pm on 05.19.04 |
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3: you definitely rocked the house, girl. (and i loved the dress, too.)
Posted by alizinha at 1:05 pm on 05.19.04 |
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4: What is it with French guys and anal sex?
Posted by Larabelle at 1:44 pm on 05.19.04 |
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5: I only wish I could have been there last night. I laughed while reading this.
Posted by Indigo at 2:32 pm on 05.19.04 |
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6: ... and another small piece is added to the everchanging mosaic that forms my mental image of the part of London where I make my home... Engels lived here, Lillie Langtry lived there, that's a nice pub, Sylvia Plath died there, ET almost got buggered there...
Or something like that. Glad and unsurprised it went well.
Posted by Liadnan at 3:26 pm on 05.19.04 |
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7: bravo!
Posted by hubs at 3:32 pm on 05.19.04 |
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8: "launching himself into a hopeful stab" is my new motto.
Posted by sac at 3:33 pm on 05.19.04 |
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9: Yeah, you were great.
Posted by Uch at 4:25 pm on 05.19.04 |
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10: where are the photos?
Posted by V Oyeur at 4:28 pm on 05.19.04 |
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11: ....of the reading, not the, ahem, trip up the marmite motorway
Posted by V Oyeur at 4:29 pm on 05.19.04 |
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12: Nichelle smothers people with her buttocks? Hook a brother up ...
Posted by Ron Mwangaguhunga at 4:51 pm on 05.19.04 |
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13: ... and yet another reason why i need to move to the East coast. but seriously, you are my hero(ine) for the day!
Posted by Devlyn at 7:32 pm on 05.19.04 |
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14: Loved hearing you read and all the gossip afterwards. Looking forward to talking trash some more with you.
Posted by Rachel at 7:46 pm on 05.19.04 |
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15: Hey, I've always enjoyed your negativity, and what's this now about how "nice it was to spend the evening with such nice, funny, clever writers"?? HUH???? WTF, as they say?!?!?
First of all, some are not clever, or funny; so maybe they are "nice", but who gives a shit? LustyLady is not remotely woth reading, but she sure is a good self-help, self-promoting NY type, like that pathetic twit Amy Sohn. She's not even that lusty, and far from lust-provoking. Her blog bored me to tears (now that I bothered to look her up). And some of the others are no great shakes either.
Why do you feel the need to associate and PUBLICLY PERFOEM with these women? Why the neediness? Don't you feel fulfilled by spilling your bile here, to those who truly appreciate your big nasty side?
There's this unrelentingly cheery aspect to America - everything will sooner or later turn into a "support network" of "similarly-minded" people, who link to each other and say nice things about each other even when they are patently not true. It's all so NIIIIICE and smirky - I'll give you props, you'll give me props, we're a great COMMUNITY here, and let's not forget to congratulate ourselves on everything we do TOGETHER. Nyah, nyah, nyah.
I prefer the lonely blogger-sniper, not afraid to be nasty at all times. To *everyone*. That's true punk, man.
Since yesterday, I'm over you, Eurotrash. You have now officially become a good, friendly American. Congratulations.
Posted by Mme. Verdurin at 9:03 pm on 05.19.04 |
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16: Mme Verdurin misses the point somewhat I feel.
The unaccustomed cheery bonhomie of ET’s latest post can be put down to relief and a gigantic flood of endorphins.
If you are terrified of public speaking, as ET is…if you accomplish the feat of speaking in public without puking, pissing, the dread blotchy fire blushing, hyper ventilating, stinking, loosing your voice, forgetting to breathe and speaking several octaves higher than you normally would…if you manage, not only this, but also feel you may have acquitted yourself well, then I think you are permitted to feel ‘quite pleased’ and hence relinquish for the space of, say 24 hours, your normally unremittingly bleak outlook on life.
So be nice Mme V. If ET can, you can…
Anyway back to the far more enthralling subject of French men and buggery…what is it with that hmn? I put it down to all the suppositories they use. I don’t necessarily think it’s a bad thing tho…filthy little buggers
Posted by samphire at 10:56 pm on 05.19.04 |
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17: ET are you trolling yourself again? You nut.
Posted by someoneSomewhere at 11:09 pm on 05.19.04 |
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18: Since Mme Verdurin has chosen her nom de vitriol from a character that is a parody of the pathetic, socially-grasping nouveau riche aspirants to Parisian salon society, I can only assume that she identifies.
Those foolish notions of community that you mock are, believe it or not, the very origins of blogging. Ask Meg Hourihan or any of the people that actually had the brains, intelligence and insight to build the tools that make all of this possible.
It wasn’t that long ago that blogging was primarily a bunch of nerds and writers and marginal characters who did it because it was fun and a great way to find other like-minded folks.
I’m sure you’re glad that all the snarky mediawhores showed up, started blogging and are trying to turn the internet into a nasty bitchfest of aspiring columnists for the NY Observer. But some of us don’t see that as a positive development.
You sound like a very sad, lonely and bitter person who is frustrated by an ambition that overreaches her talent. I hope you stay as lonely as you sound.
By the way, punk rock also started out of the desire to create a community of like-minded people. They were just like-mindedly nihilistic.
Mme. Verdurin, you’re an idiot.
Posted by Touchy McFeely at 11:47 pm on 05.19.04 |
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19: Heh.
Mme. Verdurin (a relative of Bob Joseph?) misses a few points along the way, in my opinion. I shall attend to them presently.
But just as a quick reminder - I don't CARE what you think of me unless you love me. If you hate me, it's just material. If you love me, I glow slightly with pleasure.
Either way, it's just a fucking blog and one day I will die and no-one will remember me.
It doesn't fucking matter. Really, it doesn't.
Posted by Eurotrash at 2:17 am on 05.20.04 |
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20: Ah Mme Verdurin, I'm sure once you move up to the Upper Sixth next year you'll be able to reflect in a less angst-ridden way and get over yourself.
The whole point of everything is that you do whatever the fuck you want whenever you fucking want to (be it lying insitinctively to your bird or picking your nose and eating it) with who ever the fuck you feel like doing it with at the fucking time. Really, it's that simple.
Posted by maccers at 2:30 am on 05.20.04 |
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21: Glad to see you are back on nihilistic track, lovely
As a long time reader and lurker in the undergrowth, I just wanted to say thanks for all the many fine hours of work avoidance and amusement you have afforded me. My keyboard thanks you for the frequent dousing of coffee it receives as a result of my amused snorting.
Posted by samphire at 2:33 am on 05.20.04 |
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22: oh yeah and the other thing is "Catcher in the Rye" is shit.
Posted by maccers at 2:36 am on 05.20.04 |
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23: maccers, if you're going to knock jd, you should've stayed in austin.
Posted by Uch at 3:02 am on 05.20.04 |
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24: Samphire makes me glow. She/he can stay.
Posted by Eurotrash at 3:07 am on 05.20.04 |
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25: PS: What Maccers said.
Posted by Eurotrash at 3:08 am on 05.20.04 |
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26: Don't tell me you agree with her "Catcher"-bashing??
Posted by Uch at 3:12 am on 05.20.04 |
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27: No Uch. It was the "picking your nose and eating it" thing I particularly related to.
Duh.
Posted by Eurotrash at 3:15 am on 05.20.04 |
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28: Just making sure. I generally only able to remember the very last thing to come out of a woman's mouth.
Posted by Uch at 3:20 am on 05.20.04 |
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29: there should be an "am" in there somewhere
Posted by Uch at 3:21 am on 05.20.04 |
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30: am
Posted by at 10:13 am on 05.20.04 |
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31: ha. I was just reading over the Verdurin's post and retract my original impression. It's not well-written enough to be ET trolling herself (though I did harbor a sneaking suspicion that the occasional Fatti Jones missive might have been ET having a laugh).
It's interesting to me because I know some Limeys in real life and this bears out what one of them told me. This Limey said that it's not just showing emotion that is frowned upon by Limeys. It drives the bulk of Limeys crazy to see another Limey do well and enjoy it. It's considered like bad form or something.
It's kind of funny to see that when a Limey (E.T.) has a success like E.T. did, here comes another Limey to try and take her down a peg. Now I'm assuming that Mme. Verdurin is another Limey. I make this assumption based on what is supposed to be the ultimate closing insult "You've become a good friendly American".
So Mme., I just would like to reiterate, ET fucking killed. This is New York, New York and the audience was made up of many people who were there to see the other performers and didn't know E.T. at all. She had the place in the palm of her hand. She had a SUCCESS. We enjoyed it and I'm guessing she did too. So bwahahahahaha.
Now I'm off to annoy Sac.
Posted by someoneSomewhere at 11:26 am on 05.20.04 |
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32: "The Tall Nail that Stands Up Gets Hammered Down" - Japanese saying. Brits & their colonials have other terms for same social phenomenon.
Sorry, ET, didn't mean to imply you're but a Tall Nail. Somebody obviously thought of you as a Tail Nail ;)
Posted by EB at 12:15 pm on 05.20.04 |
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33: It's "tits-on-a-stick," actually.
Posted by turbulent priest at 1:16 pm on 05.20.04 |
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34: Check oiut what's going on over at Jessy's blog. Wow.
Posted by someoneSomewhere at 2:21 pm on 05.20.04 |
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35: I wish that I had Jessy's blog.
Posted by Rick Springfield at 5:03 pm on 05.20.04 |
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36: EUROTRASH was so terrific at the reading at PS122, I was afraid to follow her because she'd had such a good set.
I love the fact that when she introduced herself to me later at the bar, the first thing she did was call me a cunt. An act of truth and courage from a woman who I hope I can someday call my bitch whore of a friend.
It was a funny coincidence that she mentioned she thought I should be on tv and then the next day, I was being dragged out of the New School Auditorium by the feds on the 11 o'clock news. Not quite the exposure I was hoping for, but I guess publicity is publicity, right?
Posted by Jessy Delfino at 6:58 pm on 05.20.04 |
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37: You finally get your 15 minutes - and all the glory goes to your anus.
Andy woulda loved it.
Posted by sean at 11:07 pm on 05.20.04 |
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38: yes, pleeease don't become the Amanda Hesser-type who lets adulation go to her head ( c'mon, we all know she was talented once.) Insecurity is something you should use- why do you think writers nearly always have it? Strange quirk of fate?
The opposite of self-doubt is Hesser and Don Rumsfield. Self-doubt is good enough for Joan Didion, so for Christs's sake, shouldn't it begood enough for you.
Never stop using what you were given- it's a gift, whether it always seems so or no.
Posted by somewhereelse at 11:34 pm on 05.20.04 |
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39: I only wanted to say that I've had more anal sex with British men than with French men.
Thats' all.
Posted by ysengrin at 1:51 pm on 05.21.04 |
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40: I know I am late on this, as usual, but I will concur with the majority and tell you I love you. I mean apart from the hairy armpits, moldy milk and lack of hoovering, you rule. :-)
Posted by jenB at 1:31 am on 05.25.04 |
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41: Gosh, I have missed all this drama. I don't understand or care why Mme Verdurin decided to spew "projectile vomit " all over a lovely evening. I just saw LustyLady, Ultragrrrl and of course Lindsayism last night at the Ritalin Reading and we're still amazed at such fabulous show last week. I don't think Mme attended or she would known that it all love and harmony between the girls who read. Not every woman has to be a diva. Mme Verdurn is obviouslty a hater! Ignore it ET!
Much love,
Nichelle
Posted by Nichelle at 11:24 am on 05.26.04 |
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42: pictures womens six
Posted by hasan at 6:47 am on 11.05.04 |
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45: dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
Posted by bbbbb at 10:20 am on 03.15.06 |
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46: dddddddddddddddddddddd
Posted by babeer at 10:21 am on 03.15.06 |
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