fergie's Diaryland Diary
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mini
Mr. Cranky Pants, the UPS man, delivered my new mini-camcorder to the office today.. it's so cute, and so tiny! (shown actual size)
A compact package is a good thing, if you're talking about electronics. Just to show off it's spy-like capabilities, my first, official non-test shot was of this guy we call Mullet-Man who works down the street. I�ve been anxious to capture this freak of nature, and as luck would have it I managed to get it on my first day with mini.
Parking in the area is a complete bitch and a half (for most, I double park in our private drive, turning my parking drama into everyone's logistic nightmare), so Ernie & I see Mullet-Man walking to his car all the time & always stop what we're doing to make fun of his really bad hair. I mean, come on..a mullet?! The question "doesn't this man have any friends to tell him otherwise" is answered by the fact that he eats lunch by himself in his car everyday. The mullet keeps him company. I set mini in my office window to take this shot of him as he passed by, and he didn't even notice! Then again, he hasn't noticed the mullet has long gone out of style, so it may take him some time to catch up with the size of technology.
Wait a second.. was the mullet ever in vogue, or just a sad trend (like neon-colored ..anything) that gained exposure by the spread of cableTV in the 80s?? Someone please tell me how a single decade could spawn such "never again" fashion. Even though I was only a very small child, my inner style guide never allowed me to be the subject an embarrassing photo.
That came later in the 90s, when, like every gay man throughout history before me, I thought I�d look good with blond highlights. Not to mention oversized tops with color blocks were all the rage at the time. I looked like a queer pi�ata with stick legs and cotton candy hair. Those pictures have all been destroyed, not because I care if people laugh at me, but because I was cold one night and needed to kick the fireplace roar up a notch or two. I mistakenly thought the photo album was an old copy of the bible.
My spy game with mini was in full stealth mode when I took an inconspicuous shot of the line at the needle exchange van while I waited for a red light. With my office being smack in the middle of Hollywood, the surroundings should provide an endless supply of "so sad you have to laugh" images of people who are far worse off than you or I. And no, I don't think it's mean to laugh at the misfortune of others. I�ve suffered misfortune. People laughed. Then I laughed, and I�ve been in on the big fucking joke called life ever since. Now I can take pictures of misery and call it art.
Let's get one thing straight, if I ever get to the point where I�m so far gone that I not only think clean needles are a solution to my problem, but also find myself willing to get them from the side door of a van - in broad daylight - on the corner of Santa Monica Blvd during rush hour - then I would be painfully aware of the horrific farce my life had become. Maybe next week someone in line for the needle exchange van will come to this conclusion, and I can capture them on mini as they throw themselves in front of a bus. It would be a perfect test of the video function.
The original version of this entry & accompanying photos can been seen here.
2:34 a.m. - Mar. 30, 2004
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fun story about abfab 5 on DVD
Is it a bee?
Robotic bleeping suddenly erupted from my cell. I picked up the call, knowing my roommate, the whore, was on the other end. "Hey, hooker."
He giggled. "Guess what I have in my hot little hands?"
He sounded far too elated to be fully clothed. "I don't know," I replied, "A big hard c*ck?"
"AbFab: Season Five." He blurted somewhere in the middle, not quite catching my remark. Then--
"Oh, bitch.. That�s it!" He hissed, channeling Patsy, "I'm watching it without you, in fact, it's already in the DVD player."
"My DVD player. I'm in WeHo with friends. We just watched the first episode. I'll be home in twenty minutes."
"I hate you, Fergie!"
"I'm bringing a friend home, a bottle of strawberry margarita."
"Have I mentioned how important you are in my life?"
1:52 a.m. - Mar. 27, 2004
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thinking
Comedian Steven Wright is quoted as saying, "A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking." This may actually be true. I've found my own belief system undergoes a constant evolution as I learn and understand more.
One of the things I think about often is the concept of power, and that we're all living under the radar. Recently on the radio I heard an interview with an FBI agent, who encouraged listeners to help stop terrorism and report suspicious behavior to authorities. As an example, he described an unfamiliar car being parked in the neighborhood. Excuse me, but no terrorist targets have hit suburban america. I thought, Fuck off buddy, we're not going to spy on our neighbors and keep tabs on them for you.
And then I thought, Oh, we'll spy on each other, we just won't tell.
10:01 p.m. - Mar. 25, 2004
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super-fergie
Ready for your day to be saved..?
11:51 p.m. - Mar. 24, 2004
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i like to make stuff up
I like to make stuff up.
Perhaps I should start my own dictionary project. I learned to read at a very early age, thanks to intelligent parents who read to me in the womb and limited television viewing to The Muppets, Sesame Street, and other educational programs. I began creating my own words around four or five, when I started writing and illustrating original stories. While my first illustrated novella The Happy Heart People will not be a project in development at Fergstudios any time soon, my mother has the original 3-D work in crayon & construction paper on 10x4 note cards strung together at the seems with yarn (Mama Fergie is quite a crafty lady). It was during this time that I began �borking� on the stairs. These respites between creative endeavors would later become my now toxic smoke breaks.
Borking was basically spacing out, or planning my next move. Would I return to the He-Man battle scene in my bedroom, continue working on my drag act (I did a mean spirited and generally disastrous Julia Childs cooking show spoof), or put more time into the Happy Heart People artwork? Perhaps none of the above. I was a child after all, the attention span is fickle. Once I sat by myself on the stairs, all kinds of things would pop into my furry little brain. During one of these breaks, my mother asked me what I was doing. Without missing a beat I replied �Oh, just borking.�
If memory serves, the Muppet�s Swedish Chef inspired the term. The character spoke in a terribly imitated Swedish accent, something like "Vergoofin der flicke stoobin! Mit der b�rk-b�rk yubetcha!" He was always throwing stuff around and trashing the kitchen while doing his business, totally out of it and most likely on some kind of Muppet speed.
I�ve continued to occasionally create my own vocabulary or modify existing words, like �oldfentimer� & �Canaydea.�
It would be fun to collect these unique words and phrases into a single volume. What sucks about writing this post is that I can�t think of a single additional entry for the collection, with the exception my newest word, �cuntheiress.� A cuntheiress is someone whose family tree is the living definition of every obscene word in history.
This is a very recent addition to my vernacular, because I was tired of calling everyone a filthy chavster. After awhile, insults loose their significance and snap, so it�s important to keep a good rotation. Cuntheiress is the very worst thing you can call anyone, ever.
..i guess this means more to come as memory/time serves.. in the meantime, send me your made up words for inclusion in the independent dictionary project. You'll receive full credit, and whenever applicable, a like to your site.
3:03 a.m. - Mar. 22, 2004
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sleep now
Fergie: it�s getting way too late.. sorry if i'm not making sense
Agent007: i raised my eyebrow a little at some of the latter.. just because maybe my own tiredness is affecting my thought processes
Fergie: *thud* --passes out on keyboard-- vlnkwe lhk ewheklnbkllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
Agent007: LOL.. seriously
4:20 a.m. - Mar. 21, 2004
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Bloody Marry Morning
Bloody Marry Morning.
I don�t question that we honor a man who flushed Paganism out of Ireland to usher in the catholic church by wearing green and getting shit-faced, it�s no more of a bastardized celebration than any other holiday. And let�s face it; the Irish are a bunch of drunks. At least that�s my excuse, which so far has held up in court.
After once again celebrating a holiday that holds no meaning for me, I awoke this morning with an ice pick in my temple. As most everyone knows, the cure to a hangover is quite simple. Keep drinking!
Fortunately my new fad diet, Chocolate For Breakfast�, is designed to fit any situation or particular need. Once again my incredible new meal plan exceeded all expectations. Not only did I get a good buzz going after just a few sips of my chocolate martini, but by the time I finished the third I�d damn near reached nirvana.
7:28 p.m. - Mar. 18, 2004
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Fernilli Lily Marie Ferguson
Mr. Bernard sent me home from his place tonight with an aloe plant tucked under my arm in a plastic container filled with dirt. His aloe spreads out of control and constantly threatens to choke out all other life in his garden, so he must periodically give baby plants up for adoption to friends, neighbors, and people on the street.
I had reservations about taking it because I killed the last one he gave me. It�s buried next to the cactus everyone told me would be an easy plant to maintain.
9:43 p.m. - Mar. 14, 2004
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K.O.'d
K.O.'d by my own B.O.
My laundry has been a little behind these days due to the recent firing of my maid. Actually, she wasn't so much fired as she was caught trying to smuggle half a dozen family members across the border in her trunk on her return trip from Mexico. Guess this means kitty won't be getting that case of Tequila she was promised.
The pile-up of dirties in her absence has forced me to relegate the use of clean clothes to absolute necessity. On a �non-public appearance� night, like tonight, I might feel so inclined to wear flip-flops when I walk around the corner to the 7/11 and pick up a bottle of cheap, slightly bitter but otherwise tasteless wine. Sandals free the use of clean socks* for a more appropriate time, and cheap booze might taste like shit but it still gets the job done.
The fashion conundrum of the evening was the desire to break in my new pair of Pumas without having to waste a perfectly clean pair of sox* just to walk around the corner. My simple solution was to re-use a pair lying atop my wicker laundry basket. Instead of just throwing on some mix-matched crusty dust rags, I had to find a matching pair that looked suitable in fresh from the store shoes. Not wanting to stink up my brand new Pumas, it was clear that I would also have to perform a sniff test before making a final selection. This was a mistake.
I gracefully wafted the cK branded articles underneath my nose and woke up ten minutes later lying flat out on the floor. A lingering odor danced around my nostrils. A very, very bad lingering odor.
The first thought that crossed my mind was springing my maid out on bail. I figure she can just work it off.
*Ps. Why is the plural of 'sock' either 'socks' or 'sox?'
8:08 p.m. - Mar. 11, 2004
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diet, cont
January through April is girl scout cookie time, and it fits perfectly into my new fad diet. Yes I'm talking about half a box of thin mints for breakfast, and it's kosher!
So good, it must be illegal somewhere in this fucked up country.. or at least on the Right�s agenda.
My favorite little scout delivered my order today, and I was relieved the bill was only twenty bucks. That�s way down from last year's fiasco, when I had to sell some stock to pay for my truckload of tagalongs.
7:56 p.m. - Mar. 08, 2004
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Chocolate for Breakfast�
I�ve really been thinking about this diet thing. I could totally start a new food-trend called Chocolate for Breakfast� and go on Oprah. Everyone across the country will suddenly be completely wild about Chocolate for Breakfast� and I�ll cash in on the sensation.
All I need is an �expert� medical type to sign off on the deal. If some senile old quack can stop a nation from eating bread, then clearly the playing field is wide open.
6:06 p.m. - Mar. 06, 2004
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prone to bitchiness
Chocolate is good for breakfast.
This afternoon I had two Reeces Sticks and a bottle of Nestle's chocolate moo juice on the way into the office. I feel amazing!
Usually I suck down a mountain dew and a couple marlboro lights to get my day started.
I seriously recommend a diet consisting of chocolate for breakfast to those prone to bitchiness.
4:20 p.m. - Mar. 04, 2004
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oldfentimer
Oldfentimer?
Just an obvious mispronunciation of 'old timer' I made up to call old people. As in, �Oh, Ms. Oldfentimer, you have the best cookies. I was wondering, since you're going to die soon, am I in your will?�
6:30 p.m. - Mar. 03, 2004
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Mar. 04
Don�t let old people steal your youth.
Waiting in line at the bank, some really old wrinkled dude was standing behind me with a syringe pointed at the nape of my neck.
I love it when banks display dozens of very conspicuous, black cameras hanging out of the white ceiling, all hooked up to monitors behind the Plexiglas windows at the counter to show everyone that they're watching. No shit. Everybody�s watching, we're all basically the star of our very own reality security camera show almost 24/7. The cameras are there, but not everyone wants you to know they are. In this case it may have saved my youth, or at least some t-cells.
The old scalawag was quick, I�ll give him that. Once I saw him on the video monitor, he tucked the syringe in his pocket and produced a pen to sign his deposit slip before I had a chance to turn around. He smiled as I faced him.
�Oh, you�re good.� I whispered flatly with a look that said Try that again and your hip is bone powder, oldfentimer.
7:21 p.m. - Mar. 01, 2004
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