I swore I wouldn’t be the kind of writer who uses her children for material, but today I am rejecting my own value-system to announce the marriage of my two daughters: Peaches and Angie. Yes, they’re sisters but they’re also…lovers. Want to make something of it?

A little more about the bride and groom:

Name: Peaches
Confirmation name: Peaches Marie
Nicknames: Peepee, Peepalah
Likes: Running in circles, headbanging, cultivating green chlorophyll bib
Dislikes: Any type of human contact, including–but not limited to: petting, touching, squeezing, kissing, or footsteps within ten foot radius
Strengths: Massive ego
Weaknesses: Massive ego
Trademarks: Athletic prowess, pink ear, “the smart one”

Name: Angie
Nicknames: Angelina Ratlie, Fatticus Ratticus
Strengths: Asserts dominance once a month when she’s “on her cycle” (or some cycle) and takes Peaches by storm
Weaknesses: Respiratory infections, Bumblefoot, possibly blind
Likes: Hiding in the pigloo, leafy greens, hay
Dislikes: Costumes, vaccuum cleaner
Trademark: Her voluptuous curves

Bride and groom are both wearing Cuddly Cavies couture. Bride’s jewels by Harry Winston.

Wedding photographer: Brandon Finney. Holiday photographer: Rick Robertson.

8 Comments. Filed under Guinea Pigs, Yo Momma

I recently had the privilege of seeing the great Jayne Cortez perform at City College. I’m no expert when it comes to performance poetry, but Jayne is the O.G.

During the portion of the evening where students get to ask her our asinine questions*, someone asked who her influences are. She responded: “I’m not influenced by ANYONE.” ‘Nuff said.

I’m totally obsessed with this poet. Yet I gleefully engage on a daily basis in behavior that she would likely deem toxic, anti-feminist, corporate, and/or plain old poopoo.

I know I’m not alone in letting down the artists I admire. Take legions of Morrissey fans in the 80s and Where’s the Beef?

In honor of diversity, and because it’s feckin’ fun, I’ve comprised a list below of things I love that Jayne Cortez would probably hate:

1. Chuck Bass

2. Chuck Bass & Blair Waldorf : the special moment

3. Chuck Bass man-on-man action

4. OPI Axxium color gel manicure (stays on forev)

5. Norbit 

6. Nike iD (love me my Pegasus+ 25 iD sneaks in all-black with silver swoosh)

7. Who? What? Wear?

8. Marie Robinson at Sally Hershberger

9. Nicorette (2 mg please)

10. Bergdorf’s 5F

11. “Chrome Plated Woman” 

12. Spanking The Monkey (rivals Harold and Maude, and I don’t say that lightly)

14. Perfekt

15. “Wouldn’t Get Far” (floatin’ away on the hood of a Camry)

16. Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo

*This is reminiscent of when I saw Fiona Apple at The New Yorker festival and Sasha Frere-Jones asked her all of these random questions, like: what do you eat for breakfast? (not that I don’t want to know) (and fyi: she doesn’t eat eggs) when there’s really only one question for Fiona Apple: Is it worth it to be so crazy to be so talented?

3 Comments. Filed under Bergdorf's, Hippie Shit, O.P.P.

I’m guest-blogging all week at the Jewish Book Council blog.  Topics include:

* Jewish vs. Goyish? The year in review (All apologies to Lenny Bruce)

* Famous Jews you went to Hebrew School with

* Dear Esther Schwebel, Where are you?

* A nice letter to my pen pal: god

2 Comments. Filed under Jew-time

Today my mother and I spent the afternoon davening at her spiritual home, Bergdorf Goodman. She let me know that she is still planning to abstain from reading the book and had this to say:

How about we try and make the next book semi-normal? Enough with these people with hangups.  Enough with the face tattoos already.

I responded using the words artist and self-expression, two locutions I never use self-referentially unless I’m getting a lecture about my junkie fetish in the Roger Vivier section of the shoe salon.

I have the perfect photo of my mother taken during a similar pilgrimage this summer. It was raining and we didn’t have an umbrella, so she’s standing in front of the Big B with a plastic bag over her head.

While I’m dying to post the photo here, I just can’t sell her out like that. She’s mad cool in her Brunello Cucinelli separates and D’Agostino hat, just trying to understand her daughter. And I’m not that kind of artist yo.

3 Comments. Filed under Bergdorf's, Junkie Fetish, Yo Momma

I don’t know.

I feel like I’m supposed to be tweeting the Twit now that the book is 15 days from publication. But I just don’t see myself going peacefully into the dull night of the “Really, Massachusetts? Really?” or “OMFG hahahahaha LMAO BRB LOL!!!!!!!” or “Seriously, dry cleaners? Seriously?” crowd anytime soon.

So for now, I’m running a semi-structured alphabetic poetics experiment from aboard my ‘tweet deck.’ [UPDATE: This didn’t last. Though I did make it all the way backwards to the letter “A.” Once.] Yeah. I figure banal posts about other people people’s poetry (O.P.P.?) can at least be classified as benevolent.

Sounds enticing, eh?

I must admit, though, that it’s tempting to twit the Twat every time I, say, have a thought. Here are some of the tweets I’ve restrained in the past two days, since ‘going public’ on Twitter:

Meditated this morning next to an open toilet.

Apparently my guinea pigs are now too upmarket for baby carrots.

Nicorette in yoga class makes for spicy Savasana.

Yoga Journal hates you.

I hate water.

Guinea pigs now too upmarket for baby carrots AND apple.

Don’t be afraid to brush curls and transform into Stevie Nicks.

Lady on A Train has bottle of Purell carabinered to her purse.

I still love you junkies.

Guinea pigs resemble Puffy and Biggie. The nasty one will surely outlive the sweet one.

Why shouldn’t she be nasty? Consider the collective unconscious of the guinea pig.

Book proof just arrived UPS!!!

Does book resemble a pamphlet?

Crying to publisher (via text)

Spin teacher really believes we are on the open road.

Publisher going to upgrade paper stock!

Why is that Misshape always at Souen?

Why am I always at Souen?

Mother and Mother-in-law are running viral grandchild marketing campaign.

Blackberry has now officially merged with hand. Hanberry. Bland?

1 Comment. Filed under Guinea Pigs, Information Age of Hysteria, Neuroses, O.P.P.

I’ve got a jones for trash-food, always have. Tuna Helper? Affirmative. Chef Boyardee? Mais oui. I’ve never even been to The Cheesecake Factory, but I oft read their menu in bed as a nightcap.

Unfortunately I have shtetl DNA, which doesn’t waif with age. So I forsake my beloved Little Debbie Creme Pies and Red Vines for a diet of macrobiotic(ish) fare. Ever tried Shirataki noodles? I’ve got Deep Chocolate Vita Tops arriving weekly by mail. In bulk.

Which brings me to the Duggars. Not only do Jim Bob and Michelle have 19 children, and dress them in enough matching modestywear to inspire cult fetish poetry for weeks, but they also have a trash-food recipe page that would knock your Aunt Ida’s socks off.

Greatest hits include: Hash Brown Casserole, Tater Tot Casserole (Jim Bob’s favorite!), Taco Soup and laundry detergent.

My personal favorite is a layered “Salad” that somehow manages to incorporate two cups of mayonaise, a container of sour cream and a 1/2 pound of turkey bacon.

Sadly, word on the street is that Michelle Duggar is a lifetime member of Weight Watchers, so it might be the boys who are mainlining all that Velveeta. But a girl can dream, can’t she?

1 Comment. Filed under Cult Fetish, Food Issues

Is it gauche to promote your book (which has nothing to do with Haiti) in light of Haiti?

What if you tweet about Haiti?

What if you tweet about Haiti and your book simultaneously?

What if you add Haiti as a Facebook friend?

What if you write about your book on Haiti’s wall?

What if you request Haiti to become a fan of your book?

What if you invite Haiti to your book party?

What if you pass around a hat for Doctors Without Borders at your book party?

What if you post a link to Doctors Without Borders on your promotional website?

What if you hold a bake sale for Haiti (and sell your book there next to Aunt Carol’s lemon squares?)

What if you watch CNN all day?

What if you watch CNN all day whilst pitching your book?

What if you request to follow Anderson Cooper on Twitter?

What if you pitch your book to Anderson Cooper while he’s in Port au Prince?

What if you set your book trailer in Port au Prince?

What if you write a bad poem and dedicate it to the people of Port au Prince?

What if you immediately submit the bad poem to 10 literary magazines?

What if you read your book at a benefit for Haiti?

What if at the end of your reading, you say: Book is on sale in the back!

No Comments. Filed under Neuroses

I love this Devendra vid for Seahorse. It makes me want to move to Topanga Canyon, surround myself in faux bois (and real bois) and grow facial hair. That would be beatific.

1 Comment. Filed under California Fetish, Hippie Shit

My mother always said: You know the Jews and the Italians are a lot alike. Well I married an Italian, but I am most definitely a Jew. How do I know this?

Today I was looking for a dress to wear to my book party* and I told the salesgirl, who was Italian, about the book.

She said: You must be delighted!
I said: I’m terrified.
She said: No no no, you must just relax and enjoy.

Relax and enjoy is not a Jewish attitude toward anything, let alone book publication.

* Worry #663:  If people have to buy their own drinks, can I really call it a book party?

1 Comment. Filed under Jew-time, Neuroses

My mother promises not to read the book, but the jury is still out on my dad. We’ll see. Did they imagine their little girl would grow up to use words like fingerbang under the guise of poetic license?

Is fingerbang one word or two?

No Comments. Filed under Yo Momma