is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Sugar really does tend to help. Sugar. And the Teaches of Peaches.
Sugar really does tend to help. Sugar. And the Teaches of Peaches.
Things got better. At some point in the afternoon I was jumping around in the kitchen eating frosting and listening to Peaches turned up so loud that I didn�t hear the phone ringing and missed some calls. My roommate is housesitting for someone else, which means that I can bake with very few clothes on without feeling like a weirdo. It is otherwise a hardship to bake when it is already hot out, you know? Sweating is so tiresome. And it is hot in San Francisco today. But it is Adrienne�s birthday and she needs her Frankencake. Jill and Caroleen will deliver.
Caroleen�s oven is much more problematic in the heat than mine. She has a vintage-y oven, and the door latch is imperfect, and so she has use a rubber-baby-bungee-bumper type thing to hold the door shut to keep the heat in the oven. But a lot of that heat still gets out into the kitchen, I tell you what. But maybe that�s actually because Caroleen is so hot.
One December back when I was living with Amy H. Konig, I was up really late making holiday treats for an upcoming party. Truth be told, I go a little baking-mad in December. Amy had gone out on a date with her current paramour, and I assumed she wasn�t coming home that evening because it was after midnight. So there I was in the kitchen at 1 a.m. baking cookies (listening to Peaches!) while making two kinds of candy, when in walk Amy and her date. I�m standing over the stove in jeans and a brassiere (it had gotten very very hot in the kitchen despite the unheated status of my San Francisco apartment, so I took off my sweatshirt), stirring two pots of sugar syrup. Plus there�s flour and colored sugar all over me, etc. I look INSANE. So what do I say? I say: �Hey, sorry, I didn�t realize you�d be coming home, and I have to stir this syrup until it gets to soft ball stage or things get really fucked up.� And, as you might imagine, that made everything perfectly understandable.
Listening to Peaches always reminds me of my cat The Rhombus, who was very fond of listening to Peaches while watching me bake things. The Rhombus AKA Rhombystiltskin AKA Sweetcheeks AKA Butterchurn died in April. Unlike Hans Blix (the cat, not the U.N. weapons inspector), feline of the eight danger-stages, The Rhombus was the sweetest cat in the world. People always thought he was a girl cat because of his gentle demeanor and flufftastic prettiness. He was also much less manic than Hans Blix. As long as there was a hand for petting him, he was your man. Marilyn decided that The Rhombus� anthem was �Set It Off� by Peaches. Except she changed the words to �Pet It Off.� So now, whenever I hear Peaches singing �motherfuckers wanna get with me/ lay with me/ love with me/ all/ right,� I think of The Rhombus ever-ready for some heavy petting.
The best Peaches song ever, however, is �Rock Show�! ROCK SHOW! Mr. Perrone told me that Dirty Power was going to cover that song until Iggy Pop went and did a duet to it with Peaches. That made me sad. I mean, I love Iggy Pop and everything, and once spent two hours in a bar drinking alone just so I could be sitting down the bar from Iggy Pop while he was drinking alone, but, well, it really would do something to me to see Mr. Perrone playing ROCK SHOW. You know? Oh well.
6:47 p.m. - August 08, 2004
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