My Flu Remedy...AKA: "The Sudafed Diaries"

I am not Greek (nor do I want a Big, Fat Anything) but I have played one on TV*, or rather, worked as a waitress in a Greek restaurant. It's the New Year and they say one of the keys of happiness is to be of service to others. So I'm releasing a time-tested recipe for a magical Greek soup called Avgolemono. It's either that or volunteer as a candy-striper at an old folks home and I just can't stand the smell of peed-thru pajamas, Pedia-Sur or the rotting-from-within decay.
So-o-o on that note, perhaps because of my hatred toward geriatrics I have been struck down by the flu (karma.) I've been dosing up on all the usual suspects: Cold-eze, AirBorne, Nyquil, echinacea and the aforementioned crack. But! I forgot about the magic elixer the Women-with-Mustaches swear by. So, I'll quit rambling and give you the recipe. It's easy and fun and I promise you your phlegm will dry up within a days time. Enjoy!
AVGOLEMONO
2 C. Chicken broth
1/3 C. long grain rice
-bring these to a boil and then cover & reduce heat. Cook on low for about 45 min. (about half way through cooking throw in a clove of garlic, chopped) or until the rice "splits." Turn off heat (duh).
2 eggs, whip or put in a blender until super fluffy. Add the juice of 1 lemon slowly.
Very, very slowly, add the warm chicken broth only (you don't want to make scrambled eggs) while blending. After you've added a lot of the broth (the rice is still in the pot) then pour all the egg/blender mixture back into the pot and bring all to a quick boil.
Serve right away. In about 48 hours you'll be ready to party all the time, party all the time 'cause my girl likes to party all the tiyyyme.


*Do be aware that I AM hopped up on a legal mixture of over-the-counter crystal meth so the references are linked rather loosely.

I may have a touch of the Mary-Kay Letourneau

I have a little crush on the baby Jonas Brothers and I really like this picture with Joe Jonas' jean bulge.

I had dinner with Trent Reznor

No, that is not a faux lure to get you to read another of my apolitical diatribes, I really HAD DINNER WITH TRENT REZNOR LAST NIGHT! Long story short, I've become friends with Bebe and Jim from The Jim Rose Circus Show (an awesome sideshow where people chew glass, hammer nails up their nose and lift things with their bathing-suit-parts, if you know what I mean.) So, they used to tour with NIN a few years back and they're still great friends. She asked if I wanted to go to the show + and hang out backstage. Cut to last night, when I'm sporting a V.I.P. lamenate sitting down in the commisary when Trent plates up his dinner and sits down, right across from me. Then Robin Fink, the most awesome guitar player I have ever seen/heard, comes and sits down right next to me. Luckily, I have a story about grabbing Robin's wife, Bianca's, boob one tipsey night at The Belltown Saloon in Seattle and we all share a guffaw. Trent says something male-fantasy related like, "that's a visual I'll treasure." And then I winked at him (!) He dug it. Their show was a bedazzling spectacular of sound and light and I was bowled over. After the show, I ran into Robin and HE asked ME for a photo (see below: he was standing on his tip-toes to show how tall he is and so I crouched down to let him prove his point.) As for Trent? I'll never tell...

please men of portland, WASH UP!!!

I'm so sick of seeing relatively cute guys about town and getting in their car or brushing past them at the video store and being hit in the face with a Tyson-like-knock-out of STENCH. Like, the kind of smell when someone drinks too much coffee and garlic and then works out really hard in a garbage bin, like they're doing aerobics in diapers and leftovers, and then letting that stink settle in for, say, three weeks, making sure their armpits and their balls have an extra coating of foul, and then, voila, they enter the public eye. Or rather the public nose. Please, dudes of PDX, I appreciate the woodsey aroma of man's fetor, but you guys need to hit the showers or, at the least, dip yourselves in the Willamette river and call it good.
Peeee-yeeeeewww. Or, actually, Pee-YOU.

Boozy Actress: The Ice Tour

I just love it how every show phenomenon, after doing the U.S. Tour, then decides to bring it "on ice." You know, fucking High School Musical ON ICE, what's next, SUV Law & Order...ON ICE.
I'd like to have my own show wherein I go about my regular life, getting waitressing jobs and walking out on them, drink a lot, sit around reading Bust magazine and then, you know, for the cash, I sell tickets to said show. Well, then THAT somehow gets a strange cult following and, much like Diablo Cody, a top Hollywood agent is surfing the 'net for porn and stumbles upon Me, loves my show, "...but, wait for it, we're thinking Boozy Actress would translate better to the masses if we Put. It. On. Ice.
I'm just sayin...

i don't think anybody reads this but still...

I'm blogging for the unknown, the empty, the absentee vote. Last night I attended Portland Fashion Week. See me with the flapper headband?

I've been rehearsing with my Improv Troupe and I have a commercial shoot on Wednesday. I'm painting this quote as soon as the Gesso dries:
"If everyone would stop trying to be happy, they might actually have a pretty good time." - Edith Wharton.

Matthew Lillard is THE MOST annoying person ever...

I just watched "Scream" Why? Why do I waste my time. It's hot, I'm bored and it'a all that's on the tele.
But I just have to vent how absoulutely annoying this guy is. I want to kill him myself.