Feed Us Too!!!

I want to go to the zoo. One of my friends says she will go with me, but she's a veggie, so I'm fairly certain she wont play my favorite zoo game, "Which animal do you think we should have for dinner?" (One time I went to Sea World and the smell made me so...hungry. So when the day was over I went to the information desk to ask where the nearest sushi place was. I wish that was a joke.) I told her that when I was little I LOVED the zoo. One time I brought my monkey puppet to the zoo. (I had a monkey puppet. It had a squeaky voice thing too! Damn I miss that monkey) So, anyway, I brought my monkey friend and in front of the monkey section, I pretended to feed it a banana. All the monkeys went wild, but in my head they were all crying cause they wanted me to feed them a banana too. I told this to my friend...she said I was a little jerk. I told her she was a little jealous. I think we're both kind of right. But mine is funnier.
How can I finagle a Jeff Buckley video in here? WAIT!!! I so know. In the original video to this song, they have monkeys that steal bikes. But I like this version better. I love him. But I’m afraid to love him.

Internet Killed the Video Star

Is it wrong that I think this video is so amazing that I'm happy they didn't get the moonman and taint their name? Let's go dancing!

She Should Have Been More Specific

When I was about 20, I went through a break-up. It wasn’t horrible, but it was enough to make me cry. So I called one of my best friends who happens to be a gay male for comfort. You know, tell me how fierce I am, tell me I’m better off without him, and sing to me. My friends and I sing to each other. What? You don’t? So he started to sing “My Cherie Amour” by Stevie Wonder. This should have worked but it made me start crying harder instead. Perplexed, he asked me what was wrong, “What happened? I’m trying to cheer you up.” In between sobs I explained,” I always wanted a guy I loved and who loved me back to sing that to me…but now I realize I should have been more specific!!!”
When I was little, my mom used to sing “Forever Young,” by Rod Stewart to me. I think she was thinking the exact same sentiment of being more specific when I showed her my awesome new purchase…BEHOLD!


It's also a voice changer. Autobots, roll out!

Every Single Year!

Halloween is coming. Yeah, I know I’m more than a month early, but you should have seen how ridiculous this conversation was in June!!! So every year at about this time I start flipping out about what I want to be for Halloween. Do I have plans yet? Of course not! But I do know that I want to blow people away. I was talking to a friend of mine about this and thankfully she gets how this is a big deal, so she indulged me. We both decided that I could never be one of those slutty policeman/ fireman /chef /nurse/ baseball player / whatever. Those costumes are so painfully lame and lack any kind of originality that it has never been an option for me. My dream costume is the Bjork swan dress. I mean, I have had dreams about it! Last year I was Bjork, but it was from the Joga video. Bjork is my Madonna. But more…Icelandic.
Growing up I always had awkward costumes. In seventh grade I was the president of the “ I Love Gumby Satanic Cult.” I still don’t understand that one entirely. I was also a dead cheerleader. One of my friend’s brothers was working on special effects makeup and used prosthesis and coagulated blood. People couldn’t eat their pizza around us. It was awesome! As I got older, I started to do characters. Senior year of high school I was Death from the Sandman comics. Not a lot of people got that. A couple years ago I was a one-night stand. I had a lampshade on my head. That was it, just a lampshade. I was casting shadows of doubt everywhere. ( BA-ZING!) One year I went as Miette from City of Lost Children. Let me tell you about a costume NO ONE got! Even after the explanation! Then I was Jackie O, but as done by Parker Posey in The House of Yes. I was asked why I didn’t just go as Jackie O as done by Jackie O. Well, because that wouldn’t have been fun, duh. When I was at the middle school, I decided to go as myself from when I was a teenager. I had my hair in a pompadour, my shiny red docs, cuffed 501’s and a Morrissey shirt. Any time someone would come up to me and ask me a question, I screamed back “You don’t understand me!!!” That went over well with the kiddos. They got to see their future, ‘cause Morrissey spans generations. I wear black on the outside, cause black is how I feel on the inside…
Ok, so this brings us now to this morning. I realized I want to be a gorilla! I would totally be warm, there isn’t a lot of prep, (maybe practice grunting?) and I would be the belle of the ball! A big, hairy, menacing belle. Hide your bananas! Here comes Natasha!

Indiana Was My Dog

Sometimes, I decide to live my life like a scene in a movie. I don’t know if it’s because I like to tell the stories later, or the things I do seem like good ideas at the time, but I just do random things. Case in point, yesterday I went to a friend’s house to get ready for a meeting. He lives in a condo, and to get into the underground guest parking area, you need to get buzzed in. The buzzer is also on the right hand side of the sloping driveway, so you HAVE to get out of the car to access it. As I pull into the driveway, I turn my car off, pull up the emergency brake, and get out. Just as I am doing so a car comes up behind me to either use the car buzzer doohickey or just come down behind me to the guest lot. I know they don’t live in the building because they just would have gone on ahead of me. At the same time that all of this is going on, a car from within the building is leaving. His departure just negated the buzz I just received from my friend, therefore shortening the amount of time to get in the building. As I see all this happening, I have a decision to make, do I floor it or do I just buzz again? Mind you, this is all taking 30 seconds. I decide to make a run for it. I literally run back into my car, slam the door shut, turn on the car, release the emergency brake, and jam on the gas in a move that can only be classified as ridiculously fluid. I maneuvered my car in such a way that I got inside the parking area with only a third of the gate open. A lesser man would have been killed. The guy behind me also attempts to come in the gate with this miniscule buzz. Little does he know he is not I, Master of All Things Awesome. As the gate came to a close with the guy that was behind me now separated by bars of metal, I could only do two things: hum the theme song from Indiana Jones and reach back for my hat.

My Jem Story

When I was little, I had an unhealthy obsession with Jem. She was the owner of an orphanage (her father died and she inherited it. What? It could happen!) Well, let me rephrase. Jerrica was the owner of the orphanage, but Jem was her hologram self as a rock singer. Jem and Jerrica were the same person. Jerrica had an orphanage filled with kids, and Jem was a fucking rock chick that had pink hair and was in a rock band and had star earring and was a hologram. Show time, Synergy!

One night, when I was about 6 or so, I had a kick ass dream that I had a Jem doll. In the dream, Jem and I went around town, sang in hardcore clubs with punks (I was a little too knowledgeable a child about the punk culture…) and got into fights with the Misfits. Not the Glen Danzig band, but the Jem and the Holograms rival band. Jem was so cool she had a rival band!

All was well and good until I woke up. It was time for school and I was so ready to bring Jem with me to show off to the bastard losers at school. The second I opened my eyes, and realized it was a dream and there was no doll, I had an overwhelming feeling of sadness. A profound loss even. It was as though someone had told me that everyone I knew had died, and before they died, they all said they thought I was ugly. There was nothing worse…ever! So I immediately start crying. The wail of a thousand banshee’s all coming out of my little mouth. My mom came running in thinking I was injured. When she asked what was wrong, I was already hyperventilating. I needed a paper bags to breath into. Finally, when I calmed down, and was able to speak, my mom asked me what was wrong. Telling her I had a dream about a doll and was devastated that I didn’t have the doll in waking life was sooo the wrong thing to say. She could not stop laughing. I never got that doll. And I never fully healed, either. Thanks mom, thanks a lot.

Love me, love my ninja like skills

Sometimes, when an awkward moment rears its ugly head, I take drastic measures to put the kibosh on it. Case in point, in a galaxy far far away and a time long long ago (last year in Encino) I was seeing someone. And no matter how long we were together, there were still awkward silences. Well, this special fact always bothered me, and one day I had had it. We were sitting on his couch and watching a movie of no importance. (probably something about teenagers trying to lose their virginity by the end of summer, he liked those.) I think we had also just had a little tiff. The only reason I think that is because we weren’t sitting close to each other. I’m just laying out the scene for you, geesh! It was a hot lazy day and all of the remotes for the TV, DVD player, VCR, and whatever else were strewn about the coffee table. Well, one remote, the heaviest of all the remotes, was haphazardly teetering on the table. There were two things I could have done since the remote caught my eye and wouldn’t let go: A) push it back onto the safety of the table, or B) be awesome. I of course chose the latter. Since the guy was completely engrossed in the film, it wasn’t hard to be stealthy, but it was going to be hard to get noticed. During a pivotal scene in the fifth act with two teenagers dry humping each other, I slowly extended my leg off the couch and proceeded to lock my knee. I brought my missile of a leg directly over the remote control, and raised it about 6 inches in the air. Then, with a noise that can only be described as me breaking the sound barrier, I brought my leg crashing down, hit the remote and made it fly off the table and into the sliding glass window. The window shook a bit and generated a glass like wail that in window speak means, ” holy shit!” At once I had a smile and look of accomplishment that only the astronauts have. I turned to him for a nod of excitement. I was instead met with a frowny face that bordered on a “what the fuck” face. Never one to back down, I said that he was just mad jealous of my ninja like skills. He told me that in fact he was not jealous but concerned with the window. After I showed him the window and insisted that it was fine, he was more than a little eager to try. Poor guy, he never did make that remote control fly…but it did kill the awkward silence.