Markie Posts

...really, they are



and this lesbo should totally win

So, it’s official. We’re building a gigantic fence making the legal, yet invisible, U.S.-Mexican border much more tangible.

The whole idea just irks me, since well, we ARE a nation conceived, built, and ran by immigrants, or children of immigrants, or third, fourth, fifth generation Scotch, Welsh, Russian, Peruvian, Korean, Samoan, Armenian, Haitian, whatever, I mean, how many Mr. Sitting Bulls or Ms. Dances with Wolves do you meet outside of a dive bar or a casino or a Sherman Alexie novel?

The one aspect of the Secure Fence Act of 2006 that I find endlessly entertaining is that I think I heard of NPR yesterday that we are actually building a 700 mile chain-linked fence. Heh, okay, but won’t that stretch infringe upon some national parks, or residential neighborhoods, or wild life preserves? And if not, come on, like Mexicans don’t know how to climb a fucking fence. What are we going to do to ensure that this actual fence actually keeps Mexicans on their side of the Rio Grande? Create more check points? Use satellites? Place spikes at the top of it? Line it with AK-47s? Make it electrical? (Oh man, that would make for a superb reality show - “When Fences Attack!”).

Desperate people do have a tendency to be ingenious; if Cubans can figure out how to make a raft out of truck-



-then the ancestors of the Aztecs can figure out how to climb a fence.

The erection just seems like the embodiment of an insult against a wonderful country that’s done nothing but bring us the awesomeness that is burritos, stellar bud, tequila, and the Latin Kings.

In conclusion, I’d like to top off this tangent with a bit of irony, in the opposite corner of this country, we’ve got this big ole’ statue at the mouth of the Hudson River with an inscription that reads:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

Yesterday I went to a Baptism and not only was the entire ceremony done in Spanish, but I was probably the only agnostic religion-mutt there. Yet, I have to admit, besides the agonizing burning I constantly felt in my flesh, for some strange reason, it also felt good to be there….maybe I’m a masochist.

The highlight of the occasion was my 6’6 boyfriend bowing his head, holding his cousin’s tiny five-month-old daughter, Chow Main, way up, above his head, and yelling “Sacrifice!” by the church’s stained glass windows.

I love this man.

I also watched “The Aristocrats” yesterday, here’s the best part, done by one of my favorite Jews:

I am inspired! Time for a poem:

There once was a sad girl named Lindsay,
Who co-starred with a hermaphrodite-y,
Jamie cut off her wang,
For Miss Lohan to bang,
And it got stuck last Freaky Friday

(Okay, my boyfriend pointed out that this shit doesn't really rhyme well, but fuck it, it stays)

On last night's finale of Project Runway's third season, pumped full of anxiety due to a last-minute cheating accusation and lit with the sparkle of Olympus Fashion week, finger pointer Laura Bennet busted out some pure beauty -



- and stretched herself (well, slightly) by adding some much needed Michael Knight-esque hoochiness to her otherwise frosty Fifth Avenue designs.



(sorry this one's so little)

Although Laura's pieces were meticulously elegant and occasionally stunning, it was underdog Uli Herzner’s female-friendly collection that halted steady breathing by mere turns onto a white catwalk instantly colored by the former Eastern Berliner's fresh Bohemian and Miami-inspired designs. Plus, her choice of music, upbeat, quirky, and sounding as if it derived from a woodsy European folktale, provoked easy-going strides that made fabric flow accentuating the entire collection.







Yet it was innovative Jeffrey Sebelia's collection, backed with the most obnoxious neo-gothic-we-just-worshipped-Satan-and-salughtered-a-goat crap music I've ever heard, which was full of inspiration -

(Notice the hems are zippers!)


- and, uhm, this -


- that ultimately earned him a Saturn (wah, wah, waaaaaah), cash, some contracts of some sort, and the win. A victory, I felt, was extremely satisfying.

Yes, it's true, his collection didn't inspire me to get my fat ass off the couch, Google all of his designs, and comb eBay for some of his less expensive articles like I did after randomly landing on a Guy Laroche show in 2005, but through out the season Jeffrey has designed some pieces that have never been seen before on any season of Project Runway.
Like this:


(I mean, the belt, its fantastic!)

And this:

(Who else can make something this beautiful out of those horrendous patterns? I'd like to see Chloe attempt that!)

He was never predictable (that's right Uli), always executed his final products well (that couture gown Michael made was a complete ugly), and was never a one-note wonder (feathers, sequins, high waistlines, sound familiar Laura?).

What I like about Jeffrey's designs is their "Fuck you, this is beautiful" quality that ignores typical aesthetics. I also, love the fact that he made that god-awful Angela's mother cry. Most importantly, I really appreciate the fact that the asshole won, proving that this contest was not about popularity or likeability-

- In fact, let me take a moment to remind everyone that the darling of the competition, Michael Knight, created some straight up messes:






- that will probably end up in his rumored girlfriend Brandy’s retro mid-nineties closet sometime soon (okay, I’m being mean, the Pam Greer outfit he did was really hot), but back to what I was saying….

…but was about creation. It is truly a competition about skil, creativity, and talent.

By the way…did anyone get to see the deleted scenes where Jeffrey calls out Laura’s high style and claims that if she didn’t have a rich husband she’d probably be with her six kids in trailer somewhere wearing sweat pants? Or when he talked about how Michael put up a front and that the viewing audience missed all of Michael “I love my momma” Knight’s conversations about ho’s a strip clubs?

It was deliciously wonderful.

A few things that make me smile:

1) Utter Anticipation: Borat hits theaters on November 3rd!



2) Laura Linney is not only in one of my favorite movies of all time, You Can Count on Me, but she’s also a doughnut savant. Blindfolded, she demonstrated her glazed, jelly-filled skills yesterday on the Megan Mullally Show, by guessing each brand of doughnut - Hostess, Krispy Kreme, Dunkin’ Donuts, and Entenmann’s - fed to her correctly, and many times without any kind of hesitation. If Homer Simpson wasn’t a fictional character and had watched the show yesterday morning, I’d like to think he would’ve responded with a, “Mmmmm…Laura Linney”

3) The end of Little Miss Sunshine. If you haven’t seen it, then, well, you just don’t know

4) Although the song “Out of the Races and Onto the Tracks” by The Rapture isn’t exactly a recent release, I have recently become quite obsessed with its deliciously raw sound that’s like salmon sashimi with a strong kick of wasabi.

5) This guy makes me cream my jeans for some reason:



He’s first challenge winner of Top Chef 2, Ilian Hall. This is not the best picture of him, but there’s something about him that I find intriguing. Maybe it’s the plugs. Maybe it’s his internal superiority that he cleverly disguises with humility, gentle facial expressions, or that he called out that self-proclaimed “mad scientist of food” (or something along those lines) with the Big Boy hairdo on how if this was a contest based on demeanor, he’d lose.

Anyone else see the similarity?


6) The fact that the giant yellow python Brooke was forced to use as a prop on ANTM last night was named Banana.

7) When Rory Gilmore played "The Perfect Crime #2" off of The Decemberists latest album The Crane Wife on last Tuesday’s (10/17/06) episode. I totally want her new tall friend’s hair-do, I wonder if my hairstylist can pull it off but I can’t find any pictures of her anywhere on the interweberverse.

Looks like Paris’ future belt is warming to her affectionate spirit.

So, I know I’m not the only one wondering this: what happens to Paris’ rejected pets?

I have a hypothesis:

Exhibit A)Tinkerbell
-------->

Exhibit B) Bambi
--------> -------->

Exhibit C)Pet Goat
-------->

Exhibit D)Hilton's family pets, Rascal (ferret), and Baby Luv
+ + -------->

Exhibit E) Paris' lesser known childhood hermit crab
-------->

Unfortunately, I’m completely addicted to greasy In-N-Out Burgerish-collagen-injected celebrity gossip which lures me, like a sweet siren song, to many-a celebrity gossip blogs on a daily basis, which are commonly plastered with pix of the rich and famous’ unsightlies; poon, cock, and total-boobage-galore!

The popularity and quantity of these pix leads me ponder, what is the origin of this fascination? Why do we like to see Lindsay Lohan’s scrambled eggs or Paris Hilton’s crab-breeding grounds?

Honestly, I have no fucking clue, but I do know that I am certainly not the only person (that’s right BWE) who cherishes these special gems of utter embarrassment. Therefore, I have made the personal decision to write a poem (in haiku or limerick form) to commemorate each and every very special photograph, starting with Ms. Simpson:



Jessica Simpson
Dig the invisible bra
Your nips are buck-eyed

Above is the chick from Joan of Arcadia with God’s divine baby suckers peeking out of her dress.

For some reason or another though, this photo makes me very uncomfortable.

Not as uncomfortable as this:


Or this:


But for some reason it brings back memories of my born-again cousin telling me that I was going to Hell as a child because my father was Jewish, and that in Hell everything would burn; my nails, my eyelashes, my butthole – everything.

This was a tid-bit of information I felt unsettling, being that I was technically born Catholic.

Regardless, aside from innate frugality, gigantic nose, and constant cravings for chopped liver, I’m not ashamed to be a half-JAP, although I really had no say in the matter. It was kind of something that was beyond my control….kinda like a nip slip.

Are you getting my point cousin Stephanie – who might not even upkeep these values anymore, but I would never know because my uncle wouldn’t let me spend any time with her out of fear that I would get our Jewey-McJew-germs all up in her brains – Do you????

HumMm…I think that photo made me more angry than uncomfortable.

The new face of Chanel's jewelry is Chan Marshall ?

Apparently Karl Lagerfeld "...saw her in New York in front of the Mercer Hotel and she was smoking and [he] said, 'Only a woman — she — can look glamorous while smoking.'"

Deriving directly from the 100-word lexicon of Paris Hilton, I'd like to say: "That's hot".