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2003-09-21 | 11:27 p.m.
corduroy licorice's mom lived in fear of corduroy learning anything on the streets, but she had to cave and let him when it came to driver's ed.
jennyj was the first to tell me that damien rice was good and she was right. his new album "o" pulls your heart out through your belly button in the most delightfully bittersweet way.
it was an action-packed, star-studded, academy award-winning performance weekend, i must say.
friday night was a night of good music thanks to a grandaddy show. i love their seven layer dip pop. they're like musical miners who find gold in the mundane hum of everyday life.
saturday night was the night when the stars came out. i went to see a show hosted by uncaberet, a kind of alternative comedy outlet in l.a. the evening featured three TV writer/producer types sharing their industry anecdotes: the charming judd apatow (the larry sanders show, freaks and geeks), the self-effacing larry charles (seinfeld) and the amazingly hilarious michael patrick king (sex and the city).
mpk went on first and brought the house down. when he came off-stage, he ended up in front of me as he gulped down mineral water from a sweaty bottle. since i was standing in a squooshed spot near the door, i had a good view when a tiny, eensy weensy, beautiful little blonde by the initials of sjp glided into the room to greet mpk. she whispered to him, asking if he'd gone on yet. when he nodded the affirmative, she squealed, "shit!" the affection and warmth between the two came off of them like a golden light. it was sweet. sjp went to find a booth and mpk stayed in front of me. when i left, i tapped him on the shoulder to compliment him and wish him good luck at the emmys. he smiled and thanked me with a big smile. it's good to know there are some nice people in hollywood.
driving home, i realized i wasn't ready to call it a night. at times like this, i usually find myself at the open-late and full-of-temptations virgin megastore.
after cruising the aisles for awhile, i headed to the checkout and found myself behind hank azaria and his lady love. he was pretty darn cute in person and was wearing the most luxurious, eggplant-colored corduroy pants i've ever seen. it looked as if the fabric was actually melting into itself with sheeny softness. rich people just get better fabrics. there's no arguing it.
i thought about having him autograph a simpsons DVD, but i've been burned as a signature seeker before so skipped out before embarassing myself.
sunday involved another improv practice session with misterpants and company. we had a grand old time. misterpants and i started the afternoon off with a bang as we performed the climatic, academy award-winning scene from the imaginary film, "mother, may i sleep with danger?" it involved white slavery and these really good grapes. my friend d-girl and i later discovered how tainted meat can really put a damper on a 50th anniversary party.
a well-rounded weekend, indeed.
take a peek at these - (c) 2000-2003 nictate:
quibbling with quitherfeather
catcher in the wry