Teach each other to reciprocate: I miss the comfort in being sad

So what the fuck, New York Times, I'm a BLIPSTER?

Help divide people even further why don't you, assholes!

When I interviewed French actress Julie Delpy this weekend (issue comes out in May--to coincide with the release of her film, Two Days), she talked about wanting to be viewed as a filmmaker and not just some woman director.

I agree. I want people to see me as me (yummicoco), not a fucking Blipster.

Going back to the Times article, the piece touched on how more and more coloreds are turning to the Rock (dressing like it too) and how people are starting to take notice:


NY Times:

THE recent attention given several bands with black members — like Bloc Party, Lightspeed Champion, and the Dears — could signify change. “Return to Cookie Mountain,” the second album by the group TV on the Radio, a band in which four of the five members are black, was on the best-album lists of many critics in 2006. Around the country, other rock bands with black members are emerging."

They failed to include Arcade Fire, The Thermals, and oldies like Fishbone, Bad Brains and Son of Cain of course--my much older cousin Herwin's punk band from like 1983.

I grew up listening to my sisters' new wave records, programming 120 minutes (and Alternative Nation AND Headbanger's Ball) so that I could watch it immediately after school every Monday (and reading Sassy magazine)-- How is my experience any different than any other stupid kid feeling like an outsider? I was a Jersey girl surrounded by guidos, I was unusual any way you sliced me.

Why must I be pigeon holed into yet another label that I feel takes away from one's experience--gives off the impression that me and many others like me are all new to the game--that we just started liking Rock music-- perhaps it goes as far as to imply that we are less black for being Blipster.

Is gentrification the direct cause of this profliferation?

Well, one memory I have of being prejudiced against (you be the judge) was when I attempted to purchase 'Houdini' by the Melvins at an airport record store when I was 14 while I was waiting for my flight to Greece (HS class trip).

Punk Bitch: Are you sure you want to buy this? Like, you know what your buying right?

Yummicoco: yeah, I know who they are-Buzz was a big influence on Kurt Cobain.

Buzz from The Melvins. Undercover black man? He looks like someone that could be in my family...minus the deranged look on his face.



Then she felt stupid cuz I schooled her on my knowledge and then she pointed out that they did a cover of a Kiss song on the album to save face.

Got to Athens, bought Jawbox "For Your Own Special Sweetheart" and Soundgarden's "Superunknown" cuz the song "She likes Surprises" was only available on import.

Returned to New Jersey on April 8, 1994 to find out that Kurt Cobain killed himself with a gun. Cried all the way home.

If life is the table and fate is the wheel then let the chips fall where they may.

Go Hang a Salami Im a Lasagna hog

Satan oscillate my metallic sonatas

Aviva

Bob

Watched some of Palindromes instead of the State of the Union.

What's your favorite palindrome?

My cat Jackie has an eating disorder and is in desperate need of gastic bypass surgery. He can't stop eating and gets his sister Stella to beg me for food to make it seem as if she is hungry too.

I hate when they say "genius".

Daniel Johnston is a sick man. Afflicted with manic depression, he once crash his dad's plane thinking that he was Casper, the friendly ghost.

rent this movie.

Yo, you mean that bitch really was retarded?!

Trumpet: Here’s to facist cheesesteaks!

Sunday night at The Blarney Stone on South Street in Philly, Trumpet ate his Nazi cheesesteak and sipped some Guinness as I began the long arduous task of taking my large black “Orthodox Women from Boro Park” style hat, ratty scarf and leopard print gloves off so that I could finally fucking sit down.

Trumpet: My mom (a hippie ex-manager of a reggae band) would be so pissed if she found out that I bought shit from there.

Where did young Trumpet go to sell his soul?

Geno’s, the fox news of cheesesteaks!

Imagine a food place lit up like Las Vegas in the middle of a working class section of Philly, then picture stickers like “If you’re illegal, LEAVE”, “ Our soldiers did not fight to enlarge the borders” and the perennial classic “ We Speak English Here So Order in English!” adorned on all of the windows. The worst was when we spotted a memorial to a slain police office who was “murdered” by Mumia Abu-Jamar.

Yummicoco to Sax: Please just go to Pat’s! Don’t give these people your money.

Saturday, swapped clothing at Part 2 of Clothing Swap Party then checked out The Giraffes with Kkegel later that night. They are so fucking cool! Thank God that bottle of yeggermister did not hit me in the face!



Met up with Sax and Trumpet after the show to head over to the Bad Sweater Party. Met a woman who is could be the “egg lady” from Pink Flamingos. Sax thought that she was drunk but I was quick to assure him that it was probably the years of crack use that slurred her speech.

Cute Boy Alert: Lead Singer of The Giraffes

This guy's hot even when the audience throws cups and cups and cups beer at him to express their love. And he can dance!

I really only got one pressing question though, lovey Dovy—did you fuck this one, too?

Dov Charney is a nasty douche bag but the man that really pisses me off with his pompous asshole-ness is the Sun Father from those Jimmy Dean commercials. I mean where the fuck does he get off! In the latest installment, his wife and two daughters are rushing out of the house to get to whereever they need to go and Sun Father cops an attitude- reminds the three females that "he has to light and heat the Earth in a few minutes" and he proceeds to force feed them nasty imitation breakfast swine.

Is Jimmy Dean trying to say that a woman better eat her man's sausage because he lights up her life?

The wife should have responded this way:

Wife: Why don't you just step off! Cuz while you have to "illuminate" the earth, I still have to work and get the girls dressed while you fuck around making sausage! You're pathetic and I am sick and tired of your stupid obessions. First it was raisins and now its sausage! Get a real job! That shit smells disgusting anyway and it clogs your arteries.

Leave the white for your wedding day, ladies. No one thinks you’re a virgin.

Ah, dear reader, this year is starting out to be hysterical! And when I say “hysterical”, I mean the literal translation of “acting like a uterus”. Young girls dating Joe Frances and lying about appendectomies---some even desperately trying to sell pics of their new white trash babies to tabloids in order to fund bahamaventions.

Read this bit about Brit Brit from the Post this morning. Reading the blurb made think that maybe this chick is going to found dead in a some shitty motel a la Sharon Stone in Casino in less than 5 months. As a fellow hysterical bitch, I must say that I am scared for her.

She seems destined for something horrific:

January 16, 2007 -- BRITNEY Spears is done with guys who chew tobacco and has moved on to men who carry peanut butter. Photo agency X17 captured her new man, Isaac Cohen, covered in some nasty sludge while spinning down Mulholland Drive in L.A. The agency's Web site reports the two were "driving through the hills, twisting and turning" when Cohen pulled over Spears' car and "removed his white shirt and used it to cover the bulk of the vomit." But Spears' bodyguard claimed the mess wasn't vomit, just peanut butter. X17 also has Cohen on tape stating, "It was some peanut butter that broke in my pocket, and you guys have the jar."

You know what the root to their hysteria is?

Dairy.

Yes, dear reader, I too have jumped into deep hysteria but instead of the crazy vagina pool, I have fallen into the lake of self-righteousness, renouncing meat, dairy and fish, officially becoming what I truly hate... A neo-soul VEGAN, naturally nappy-haired brooklynite with a jazz musician boyfriend. Anna Nicole or Britney, please sit on my face now! Your fetid essences will surely put me out of my smuggery.

But if I’m not ingesting dairy, then what’s my problem?

Its that I despretely love “I love New York”.



THIS WEEKEND AT BOWIE BALL

Master of Ceremonies: oh, its nice to see some titties on stage! We were just talking about pussy earlier...

KKEGEL: This is my favorite Roxy Music song! What’s yours?

yummicoco: Both Ends Burning. (We laugh because its so disco-y)

The movie The Hunger was playing in the BG and the glam rock did not stop.

Decked out in my white satin ABS gown from my Junior prom, double strand pearl necklace and matted brown mullet wig, I was molested by men who I later realized were women and an obvious fag rubbed my ass probably thinking that I was a man.

Then I danced with a Chinese version of Boys Don’t Cry and admired a tranny with the most unusual bust. They looked my two pods cut out from an egg crate and glued to the inside of a Danskin leotard.

JB: I think its a boob suit.

yummicoco: Yeah.

You Know the Nibble Nook is Definitely Closed...

How Did Yummi Commemorate the MLK Day?

--I danced with transsexuals at a Bowie tribute party
--I called out sick because I had a bad cold
--I came out to a couple of people about being a VEGAN
--I couldn't understand what an African American woman was saying on the Maury Povich show today
--I allowed Sax to wear his Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles t-shirt today as we walked over to the yuppie health food market to buy more VEGAN shit.

I love New York is a crock of shit: Wind me up and watch me...I don't know

So, our friend JRich is a muddled mess. Still in the faze of "I don't want to think about the future" and "I want to do something that makes a difference in this world", he just lets time pass him by. He's afraid to pick up the saxophone (so am I but I don't know how to play it) and lets his folk singing girlfriend ("yo, you got indigo girls on your iTunes, dude") boss him around.

Do I think I'm better than him? No.

There is something to be said about people who pee freely in the streets and in phone booths- they are not ashamed to take a chance. These fearless pissers see a clearing, drop trow and let the juices flow. That's what I want to do. Not pee on the corner of 35th and Broadway but seize an opportunity and run with it.

Finally watched some of "I love New York" last night. Does not compare to Flav but then again I am sick of that show anyway and I feel incredibly stupid for having been hooked on it in the first place. "New York" is an illiterate fool and her mother looks like a cross between a voodoo priest and a transvestite. Maybe the latino guy should not have asked if he could call New York his "negrita" but whatever. Bitch is wack.

Anyway, saw a screening of Warner Herzog's new film Rescue Dawn last week. "Nature will not work against you" ...or something like that. Brilliantly terrifying. Christian Bale and Steve Zahn were incredible.

This dude is definitely a Herzog fan. I'm a fan too, of course, but I think camel toes are even cooler:

I am getting You Tube out of my system

Hello!

If you don't bring up those lonely parts, this could be a good time

Happy New Year!