Still Lost

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Like all of you, I watched the two-and-a-half-hour Lost series finale last Sunday after watching the two-hour Lost recap. I started drinking during the recap, so by the time the first hour of the actual finale was over I was kinda sloshy. This meant that, though watching the finale was sure fun, when the last 10 minutes rolled around and threw me a curve ball (I thought the resolution of the sideways world was suggesting that the island world was also not real, which I realized later was not the case) I, like many people who were also drunk across this great country of ours, was not able to fully process the ending.

After a week of reading shit online and discussing things with other wiser Lost freaks and spending some quality time with myself and working things out, I was ready to watch the finale again, because I needed proper closure. Good. Lord. By the second hour I was crawling on the floor, my eyeballs popping out fresh blobs of tears in steady five-minute increments, my nose a veritable snot hose, my fingers glossed with a tear drop/snot/Cheetos mixture, my cat scavenging for Cheetos droppings in my wake.



IT WAS VERY TOUCHING OMG. Really, that finale gave me all I wanted. I didn't care to find out why Walt was so "special." I didn't care too much about what the deal with Widmore was. I didn't really have to know more about the Dharma Initiative and why women can't have babies on the island and why that psychic told Claire that she had to raise her baby and why we had to go through all that bullshit earlier in the season with the terse Japanese dude and his irritating translator and who put Alison Janney on the island and who the mother of Jacob and the Man in Black was and why Jin and Sun didn't say ANYTHING about their baby when they were getting ready to drown together and what Desmond said to Sayid when he was in the well to get Sayid to not be evil Sayid anymore and why Claire went so nuts and why Jack's dead father kept showing up whenever he damned well pleased and why Richard never took his goddamned shirt off and why the smoke monster killed Mr. Eko and why the pilot (in the pilot) had a much grislier death than anyone else killed by the smoke monster and why Evil Lock couldn't always travel as the smoke monster when he needed to move fast and what the deal was with the numbers and why Kate was still a candidate even though her name was crossed off the list.



I just needed to see Saywer and Juliet together again, lovin' on each other. And I needed to see Claire and Charlie reunited. And I needed Ben to get a shot at redemption and for Hurley to be Island Man and for Jack's story to come to a beautiful and poetic end. Basically, I needed an emotional wallop of a show that would cripple me emotionally for days, weeks, months. Success!



But of course, you can't just go on with your life after witnessing something this powerful. You absolutely must decompress. Which is why Entertainment Weekly's "Totally Lost" web series is so necessary. (See video above.) The actors playing Jacob and the Man in Black do a good job of bringing things back to earth and I love them for that.

Next up--Lost: The Complete Collection, available this August. It will look perfect on Jimmy's and my coffee table.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Book Expo 2010

It’s that time of year again, book f**kers. Time to get out my new Droid phone and snap some shots of the filthy goings on at the blood opera of death known as Book Expo, the annual carnival of dingbat celebrity books, publishing-is-not-dying pep talks, and virgin sacrifices. There was a lot of smut on display this year and I did what I could to capture a few golden nuggets. (Troll down memory lane and read my roundup of last year's monster's ball here.)



But first of all, I must say that there was some grade-A drama on Wednesday morning at the Children’s Author Breakfast, which I attended because I wrote Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The master of ceremonies was none other than Sarah “Gimme Yer Monies” Ferguson, who is (hilariously) a children’s book author and who is also, of course, embroiled in a “pay-to-play-with-my-ex-husband-Andrew” scandal. Needless to say, the press was out in full force because they are tedious children.



When we were in line for the breakfast, some dingbat CBS reporter of the NILF variety started asking folks what they think of the controversy. The first group she asked was clustered in line behind us and none of them knew what she was talking about because, duh, they read their children’s books in caves. If she had asked me I would have said I don’t blame Fergie at all for wanting some money, these are tough times. If I could sell access to Jimmy and my cat Stella I totally would because money means power (and better 3-day weekend options because, you know what, screw Coney Island). But they didn’t ask me.



I must say, she was a total pro. She made a few oblique references to her recent troubles, but otherwise did her best to keep the spotlight on the author panel, which included the guy from Boing Boing (who teared up when talking about his campaign to get books into the hands of kids in poor countries IT WAS VERY TOUCHING), Mitali Perkins, whose new book Bamboo People looks pretty good, and amusing old codger Richard Peck.

It was great, though I can't help but feel that I got the short end of the stick because in the very same room on Thursday morning Jon Stewart was the MC and Condoleeza Rice was one of the guests. But so what/who cares, I got to see the Duchess of York, so whatever.

More disgusting photos below.



Celebrity books are a terrible, terrible thing unless Kristen Schaal writes one.



Or Bernadette Peters.



Gross.



Grosser.



Hey, isn't that NBC's Peter Alexander? I think it is. Since when do reporters read books?!



Stormtroopers! Their memoir Don't Tase Me, Bro is out in paperback soon.



Lord Vader descends the escalator, just like in Return of the Jedi.

Parties I Should Have Been Invited To: An Evening with Heart, Los Angeles

How did I not know this was happening? Last night! And they apparently have a new album coming out! Will it suck? Probably! But who cares? I could happily listen to Ann Wilson sing a Sarah Palin speech. And as long as Nancy Wilson keeps fucking her guitar during the guitar solos, I think we'll all be satisfied.

In conclusion, Heart will play "Alone" at Jimmy's and my gay wedding, which will take place at their next NYC CD signing.

Been and Gone: LOST!!!

God knows what Jimmy and I will obsess over now. Maybe Cougar Town?

Srysly, life is completely empty now, booh.

Best quote in the history of television:

"“I just got pounded, man."
--sidewise Boone

NSFW DEPT: Civilian Conservation Corps vs. Gay Porn Construction Workers--Which is Which?

Folks, this post is NSFW, so please turn your computer screens away from your coworkers and put on your NSFW Patented Viewing Hoodies. Ok, good. Now, in my job as a pole dancer at the United Nations cafeteria, I have a lot of down time to troll the Library of Congress photo archives on the Internet. Well, recently I typed my favorite key words ("hot" "shirtless" "sinewy" "oiled-up" and "dudes") into the search field and the photos I turned up were quite something. They were all pictures of shirtless guys doing outdoorsy-type work for the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s. And they looked like they were having a ball.





As I scrolled through the many images of ripped, supple, boyish hotness I thought to myself, "Hmm, these photos are reminiscent of others I've seen. Other, more explicit yet no less endearing photos. What are those photos I'm thinking of?" Well I finally remembered! The photos I'm thinking of are gay construction worker porn photos, yay!

So I thought of a fun game to play. There are a bunch of CCC photos below. Interspersed with them are some gay construction worker porn photos. Which is which? They're virtually interchangeable! See if you can guess correctly which pictures feature dudes being paid to lay concrete (or whatever) and which pictures feature dudes being paid to lay each other. The winner gets a free pair of overalls.

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And the See Tim Blog Good Citizenship Award Goes To: Mom!

Folks, my mom isn't an obviously stalwart, immovable patriot and eternally selfless concerned citizen like Sarah Palin. How could she be? Not everyone can quit every position they've ever been elected to by the people so they can embark on a money-making Mean Girl whistle-stop tour of the nation's Village Idiot Conventions to display their breathtaking patriotism/lambast the popularly elected president, who is leading her us down the road to tyranny and immense personal wealth for a certifiable dingbat from books full of platitudinous nonsense sociamalism. Mom's been too busy taking care of my Dad with Alzheimers to be that much of a patriot. But she still has her moments.

Like this past weekend, when she wrote a letter to the City of Raleigh False Ordinance Program apologizing for setting off the security alarm at her house, which apparently someone keeps doing, constantly, repeatedly, over and over, forever. But Mom is a responsible citizen and she hates to think that she's gumming up Raleigh's emergency response teams' ability to deal with real problems with her constant false alarms. And even though she stops short of taking the blame for setting off the alarm herself (a contractor did it, Mom? The maid did it, Mom? [you don't have a maid!]), she should still be saluted for being an outstanding citizen and voluntarily sending the city money for taking up so much administrative time.

See her letter below. She sent me a copy, probably realizing how thrilled I would be to see her using the word "sh--" in a letter to the city government. (Mom, allow me to copyedit your next letter apologizing for setting off the alarm—for free!)

May 15, 2010

City of Raleigh
False Alarm Ordinance Program
P O Box 30609
Raleigh, N. C. 27622-0609


Dear Sir:
Last summer while we were renovating our home my contractor accidentally set off the alarm one or two times. I mailed you a check for the inconvenience and you returned it to me because you said it was a warning. My husband has alzheimers, and we’ve had several similar incidents when he set it off. Because of these situations I chose not to use my security system anymore until just recently when there was a burglary on our cul de sac.

So here I am again with the same problem. This time our maid set it off while we were out of town. I thought she fully understood how to use it.

I am so sorry for causing this problem, and you do deserve the $$ for this false alarm. My son who works for 911 continues to warn me. You certainly don’t need more false alarms with the vast amount of work you have in protecting us and our community.

With this problem constantly not resolving itself the only explanation I have is that sometimes “sh__ happens” as I have seen on many cars. Now if my children ever said that I’d wash their mouths out with soapy water! But, that is my sentiment at this time.

Thank you for all you do to keep us safe. The community does indeed owe you accolades for your dedication.

Most sincerely,

Jan Anderson

Exciting Sightings: Patrick Wilson in Greenpoint

Holy shit, I was WAY too hungover to deal with this properly this morning. I was riding my bike down Driggs on my way to Williamsburg Bridge, my head still throbbing and my eyes still coming uncrusted, and who do I see on the corner of Driggs and Leonard but hunkmonster Patrick Wilson with his son. Apparently his wife is Polish and, because Greenpoint is largely a Polish enclave, they live here so their son can be raised right.

Now, Patrick Wilson came onto my radar about 5 years ago when I saw him naked in a movie. Even better, the movie was Angels in America and he played a tortured gay Mormon who couldn't keep his clothes on, yay! He went on to star a few years later in Little Children, with Kate Winslet, in which he played a stay-at-home daddy who couldn't keep his clothes on, yay!

Anyway, it was kind of a mind-fuck seeing him and his son like that because he looked exactly like his character Brad in Little Children taking his son to the park or the swimming pool. I didn't get a picture of him because I'm shy and it all happened so fast, but if you want an idea of what Patrick Wilson looked like standing on that street, just get the movie Little Children and watch the first scene where he goes to the park with his son. He looked exactly like that!

So I'd like to use this exciting sighting as an opportunity to run some gratuitous photos of smoking hotness. See below. (Cover your children's eyeballs before scrolling down, because of the hotness.)

Jukebox: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

At long last, TPOBPAH have made a video for their glistening, soaring, and outrageously bubbly song "Higher Than the Sun." It stars a defiantly fey lead singer, a lonely blonde chicklet trolling around Williamsburg looking for tail, and a bunch of furries. Also: keyboardist Peggy Wang is all glammed up, which, hmm. I know a girl likes to dress up all sophisticatedly sometimes, and I would never presume to tell Peggy Wang what to wear. And she looks great! But I prefer her in her hobo clothes.

And because TPOBPAH are pretty much the best pop band around right now, they really should get some more face time here. So enjoy some "Young Adult Friction."

This Is My Book, Bitchez

As everyone in the New York publishing world knows, I've got a book coming out, and... what? You didn't know? That I have a book coming out? Soon? Called Tune in Tokyo: The Gaijin Diaries? That I'm self publishing because trade publishing is full of buzzkill retards who only publish books by Sarah Palin? And it will be a trade paperback available on Amazon? And is sure to win the National Book Award, the Booker Prize, and Best Actress in a Leading Role at next year's Oscars? How could you not know this?!

Well, dummies, get thee to the book's website and read all about it. The above copy that I am clutching as if my life depended on it is a "bound proof" that contains "several errors" that I've "already found." But not to worry. They will be fixed! And you will get to read these sweet sweet words in a few short weeks.

P.S. There's cussin' and sexual situations.

Face to Facey with Tracy Tracy: The Primitives at The Bell House, Brooklyn

Folks, I'm totally gay for the Primitives, so be warned: I'm about to be a big old nellie queen. I don't know when I last had such an awesome time at a show. The packed audience was full of die-hards, the band looked and sounded awesome (after several technical difficulties during the first few songs), and my dumb Droid camera phone was working.

It's not often that you get to see one of your favorite British bands from your high school days playing a 150-person venue. Echo and the Bunnymen are too busy playing Madison Square Garden. The Smiths and Siouxsie and the Banshees are too busy hating each other. Joy Division are too busy being 1/4 dead. But the Primitives--who shone brightly for a few short years in the late '80s/early '90s--brought their adorable selves to Brooklyn last Saturday to play the ONLY American date on a "dipping the toe back in" reunion experiment that will hopefully be expanded to include a new album and lots more touring!

First, the obvious: Tracy looked awesome. She's short! But she was hot stuff, with charisma to burn. (Laurie, she looked like Aunt Charlotte! That's right, readers: Tracy Tracy from the Primitives looks like a younger version of a glamorous, sexy Georgia farm girl who now lives in Alabama.)

They played all the greats: Stop Killing Me, Really Stupid, Crash, Way Behind Me, Thru the Flowers, Buzz Buzz Buzz, Sick of It. They got off to a rough start when PJ Court's guitar kept going dead (or something). At one point they had to stop a song and Tracy said she was probably going to need another Jack Daniels soon. A fan dutifully brought her one a few minutes later. PJ and the sound folks mucked around with the amps and such for a few more minutes and someone finally said good-naturedly "Nobody cares how the guitars sound." Which was sad for PJ!

"But I care!" Tracy gasped.

A short time later they were back in the saddle and a short hour and change later my teenage years were finally brought to a satisfying conclusion.

And even though I was saddened by guitarist PJ Court's choice of hairstyle, that is pretty much my only complaint. Except that they didn't do more than one encore, WTF?!


I snapped this photo right before a quietly rabid fan delicately and nimbly removed the thumbtacks from the poster and stole the damn thing.