Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Seismic Event Rocks Ellen's World

The unthinkable happened. After nearly 4 years of complaining about the inferiority of Mexican food in New York, I return to San Francisco for my regular pilgrimage to Tacqueria Cancun only to find a vegetarian super burrito…wait for it…mediocre. It was slightly soggy – too much sour cream – and, I hate to admit, bland.

I couldn’t believe it. Here’s my usual rant -- preserved for posterity:
- Why can’t New York make a decent burrito?
- The raw materials are pretty widely available -- so the lack of a decent burrito smacks of inexplicable geographic cultural differences
- New York usually goes wrong by trying to over fill the tortilla and not evenly distributing the ingredients thereby creating segregated flavor pools in an unpleasant way
- Cancun is the best because they grill the tortilla…creating a pastry-like effect.

But all that seems, well, passé, given that I’d rather have a $2 taco from my local Brooklyn tacqueria. I’m really broken up about this. How has it come to this?

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Fast, Tough and Out of Control

I vaguely remember seeing Linda Carter's Wonder Woman for the first time. I remember a certain feeling of awe -- seeing this creature so strong, so womanly, so beautiful -- and sensing that something of that vaavaavoom had something to do with me...that someday I too would have hips and breasts. It made me feel powerful.

Last night, the Gotham Girls Roller Derby League held their championship derby. From the very first moment I stepped through the doors and saw the Queens of Pain slinging their badass selves around the track, I was in love. My jaw dropped, my eyes were peeled open, my heart fluttered. I'd never seen anything more beautiful. Ever. They were the hottest, fastest, coolest ladies I have ever seen. I want to be them when I grow up.

As far as the athletic competition goes, it was a blow out. The Queens of Pain thrashed the Manhattan Mayhem so thoroughly that it was an embarrassment. Suzy Hotrod OWNED that match. The final score was something like 140 to 55.

The halftime show was a burlesque stripper: a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like named Bob. We watched the kids – of which the audience was full – wondering what they thought of this display. Even stripped down to her fringe bikini, she seemed somewhat superfluous – by no means more visually stimulating than the girls with the kneepads and fishnet stockings. But something of the momentum of her actions -- removing glove by glove, stepping from her dress -- I became worried for the kids. Worried that they'd be confused. Worried that they'd be worried about what would come next.

They problem already knew. They probably weren't worried at all. They probably only wanted the leather-clad zipper-mouthed gimp cheerleader with the whip and paddle to come back with his 'SUBMIT' sign and usher the girls on wheels back onto the track. Faster, faster, go go!

Saturday, November 18, 2006

The Permanent Revolution

Trotsky is staying with me.

It's final.

Apologies, yes, this is yet another posting about my cats.

I told Moose, 'You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you.' And then asked her to understand that while she's the alpha kitty of my heart, he is the alpha of our home, and that means we need to cast off bougeouis trappings and build a proletarian democracy here. Together, we will enjoy a worker's playtime. I know we can succeed where all other attempts have been corrupted.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Trotsky: As Murderous as Stalin (Almost.)

Again! This morning, I'm working in the living room...my nose deeply down to the protools grindstone...and after a few hours I notice my cat acting a little strange. He's clawing the chair I'm on and eagerly dancing around. Glance to my right, and there it is: a dead songbird. Throat slashed open. Lying on the ground. Feathers strewnlike bread crumbs tracking back across the trail of its entrance. It was, no doubt, carried in by Trotsky, my sweet, cuddly, charming little murderer.

So, I've closed the screen in my window. He's under house arrest now. But I fear he will kill again. It's his nature.