Happy Futhermocking New Year

So this is the new year, and I don't feel any different...

What song is that from??? It's been going through my head for days now, and I can't remember who did it. I used it in last year's New Years show, for Chrissakes!!

I want to write something NewYearsy, but I find that every sentence I type just keeps melting into venom, and I of course have to then retype them. What can I say? It's January.

This is the most horrible time of the year--the distraction of Christmas--you know, where we all gather round a tree and breathe in helium balloons and sing Dahoo Doores Dahoo Doores Welcome Christmas please don't fart--is over, and from now until May it's all short, cold, dreary days, mothball stinking coats and the physical effects of holiday cuisine showing up. It's also probably the only time of year I don't pine for Sweden, even though they have those light cafes there. Oh please please please please if you're rich and reading this, invest in my light cafe idea!!!! Just $500,000, please? Yeah, that comes with a happy ending. And don't knock the happy ending, either! Because if you can name anyone who's gotten that from me in the millennium, you're lying. It's a very exclusive club. And, in fact, I'm thinking of making it a real club, a la SoHo House or something. That idea stemmed from a piece of spam my roommate got--a message from some girl, I think she was named Heather (they're all named Heather), and she said that she thought he was cute and was inviting him to the special site/club that she created called letsdoheather.com, or whatever it was. And I was like, What a great idea! Why don't I start up letsdoed.com?! Although I'd rather start up letssendedtosweden.com. Because really, why shouldn't I be sent to Sweden? Or Denmark or France or any of those places. Whoever you are, finding this blog searching for all those lewd things that I've never said, why don't you contribute to the Send Ed to Sweden Fund!?! Cheap bastard. Go join Heather's club; you're not wanted here.

Ahh, the bitterness. Good for you. Strengthens the jaw. Anyway, so how about new years resolutions? Does anyone make those anymore? Well, I do, out of nostalgia. It's like baking blackeyed peas and doing voodoo on New Years Eve--you know it's crap, but it's still kinda fun. I also like the whole putting-cigarettes-and-John-Waters-movies-in-a-basket-and-floating-them-down-the-river-at-sunrise thing. I think it gets you in good with some god or goddess. And if cigarettes, John Waters movies and red lights are what this god likes, you really wanna be on hir good side. Think of the parties! (Now think of the afterparties!) (Now think of the penicillin shots! Hello, Dr. Chase!) Oh, rambling anecdote time: we put these electric candles in the windows every Christmas. They used to have these deep orange, pretty much red bulbs. A high school friend said they looked Satanic. Well, this year the parents put in clear bulbs, which are brighter. But my Mom had an additional reason for using clear bulbs: "The red lights made the house look like a brothel." I think that's what she said. You know, as in Red Light District? File that under Hilarious Things I Never Thought I'd Hear From Mom. That reminds me too--before she visits me, I really need to take the bright red lights and gyrating silhouettes out of the window. Although the silhouettes are really just flowers and snowflakes, so maybe not.) /anecdote (See what I mean about being an ersatz geek?)

So back to the resolutions. What do I want to achieve in the new year? Well, I want to get that cold/remote/distant/mysterious thing down. I've kinda got the chilly down, even though it's mixed with a lot of wacky, but then ever and anon someone will tell me, "Ed, you're not cold and remote; in fact, I find you warm and open." And then of course I have to throw an onion in hir face. ("Onions in your face!" It's the new phrase for 2007, just like it was for 1999-2006.) Although maybe I should be throwing a peppermint onion--we are thinking cold, you know. See, the idea stems from some interaction of my obsession with Sweden, my limited knowledge of Warhol, some Gattaca-type aesthetic, and something I read long ago about Nicole Kidman and her "icy demeanor." That phrase always stuck with me. So that's what I want to be--inscrutable, unreachable, a little melancholic. (Believe me, I got the melancholic down! You should see my forlorn gaze. So hot. You'd totally be throwing your clothes off in a second. And I'd be saying, in my forlorn voice, "Is that 100% cotton?") So I'm guessing that I have to wear a lot of grey and talk a lot less, both of which I should do anyway because 1) I need clothes that hide stains and 2) I'm retarded. And autistic. And total trailer trash. So the less I say the better.

And on that note. Happy futhermocking new year. Or, rather, may I have a happy one and you have a just slightly-less happy one. But we're all happy, except I'm more so. Which you won't notice cux of the cold, opaque thing. So we ALL win. So, uh, send some money or something.

And as Miranda Priestly would say, That's oil.

Beep!
Ed Shepp

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