Today, dear readers, we have a guest columnist. Veteran of the stage and screen, Miss Gaby Hoffman!

Ask Gaby

Dear Gaby,

OMG hi! Is Christina Ricci cool in real life?

-Jenny, Bangor ME

Jenny,

What the- That's what you want to know? You have Gaby Hoffman here, star of massive hits like "Someone Like Me" and "Whose Daughter is She?", and you want to know about Christina effin Ricci? Whatever heffa, she's cool....CHRISTINA, CALL ME! I HEARD THEY'RE DOING A SEQUEL TO NOW & THEN!

Ahem...next question

Dear Gaby,

Do you hope you really end up looking like Demi Moore when you grow up?

-Christy, Philadelphia, PA

Dear Christy,

Jigga-WHAT? Are you serious? Honey, listen...Now and Then is a movie, you know, FAKE. Why would you assume I'm going to end up looking like Demi Moore? Moron. That said, ASHTON, CALL ME! I'LL LET YOU PUNK ME!! I REALLY REALLY NEED TO GET ON MTV!!

One final question...

Dear Gaby,

No, seriously, what the hell happened to you?

-John Poughkeepsie, NY

John,

Ex-cuuuuse ME. I was on Law and Order this year! I'm also starring on Broadway in the critically acclaimed Third. Sure, pretty much everything but my performance is critically acclaimed, but SO EFFIN WHAT? GOD, no one appreciates me. I'm calling my agent...
dials phone

We're sorry, this number has been disconnected...

Gaby weeps

It has been awhile since my last update, but I'm a bit flaky and have had a lot of important things going on, such as.....um....

Ok, I'm just a flake.

I've been working on a play. I believe it falls into the "absurdist tragicomedy" genre. If such a genre doesn't exist, I just fucking invented it, so it does now. This work comes from the very depths of my heart and soul. It is autobiographical and painful to recount, but I'm putting my suffering out there for your entertainment, that's how much I love you guys.

Setting: small cellular phone store, early afternoon.
Characters: salesgirl, early twenties, bored but pleasant (ok, I took a little creative license here), sitting at a computer
customer: age, gender, clothing, none of this is important, the only requirement is that the actor be able to convey an air of minimal intelligence that will later prove to be very, very, decieving

*customer walks in"
salesgirl: Hi, how are you?
customer: How much is the Cingular plan per month?
salesgirl:...39.99 plus tax
customer: how many minutes do you get?
salesgirl: 450 daytime minutes, 5000 night and weekend minutes, unlimited mobile to mobile
customer: how much a month?
salesgirl: 39.99 a month
customer: do you get a free phone?
salesgirl: yes
customer: how many minutes?
salesgirl:.........450 daytime minutes, 5000 night and weekend minutes, unlimited mobile to mobile
customer:and how much is it?
salesgirl:39.99 A MONTH
customer: do I get a free phone?
salesgirl: yes
customer: how about minutes? how many do I get?
sad look passes over face of salesgirl as another piece of her soul dies

It seems short, I know, but the above scene will be reenacted over and over for seven hours straight! I already have my outfit for the Tonys picked out.

Take a trip through the bridge and the tunnel with me.

I have bad taste. I know this, and I struggle everyday to fight it. I like the taste of white zinfandel (though plowing through bottles of it has destroyed my tolerance for it...yay for lonely Valentine's day!). I owned white vinyl pants. I smoke Newports, which are widely acknowledged to be the most disgusting cigarettes on the market. I wore bedazzled mesh house shoes with no shame almost everyday in the summertime (until my foot was impaled by a hairclip a few weeks back). My taste in boys is abominable for the most part (not celebrity boys, my harem is impeccable). I've sported curved, brightly colored acrylic nails as recently as last year, which you can see in this photo (the polish was an iridescent lavender, and for those of you who don't know, I'm the one on the right):



I've owned shirts that are beaded and backless (its a bit hard to make out here):



and I've worn pants so low and tight it takes a good 13 different adjustments and manuveurs just to sit.

I've scrunched my hair,


assaulted myself with Buttercream eyeshadow (I knew this was wrong as I was doing it, but I was drunk, so I give myself a pass):



wear skirts with prints like this:



and wear my eyeliner in Cleopatra like wings:



Like all good daughters, I blame my mother. It starts early, with the side ponytail:



and continues through dance school:


Conga baby, CONGA!

She was also quite fond of putting my hair in french braided pigtails, making me look like a Klingon.

I love you too, mom.


Its a struggle, but I try to deal with it everyday. Wish me strength.

You gotta get on up while we're knocking the boots on your rump shaker because you need a fix while you touch me tease me. No diggity, no doubt.

My musical taste is questionable at best. I like certain bands and singers that seem to be almost required of members of the human race. Most people have certain so called " guilty pleasures" when it comes to music, but I think I have enough for all of the Northeastern United States. The biggest one being: 90s R&B.

I adore it. I know much of it is overproduced, over the top, histrionic, and just plain ridiculous. Still, I love it. Jodeci, Blackstreet , Wreckx n Effect (check out the creative spelling on Teddy Riley!), Joe, Carl Thomas (Okay, this is circa 2001, but this is a long love affair I have going on), and my all time favorite, Mr. Keith Sweat.

I love Keith Sweat more than I should. Its probably unhealthy. I even have stashed somewhere had the single for his collaboration with Johnny Gill and Gerald Levert featuring LL Cool J on a motorcycle licking his lips in the video (no, the other one...noooo, the OTHER one..). That's love people. Make It Last Forever, indeed.

Perhaps what makes these songs so great is the titles. Funky Dope Lovin', All the Things Your Man Won't Do (Joe featuring Keith Sweat on background vocals! AWESOME!), Freakin' You, No Diggity, Mamacita (that was by Public Announcement...sad story there, one song then Poof! gone like Courney Love's Vicodin on a Friday night)...the list goes on and on.

The height of awesomeness, however, is H-Town's "Knockin' the Boots". It has it all, great title, overblown singing, too much bass, treble, too much EVERYTHING, but most importantly, some of the greatest, most ridiculous lyrics ever. A sample:
Ah, yeah
Right about now we on the intermission tip
So all you ladies go get your towels
You know what I’m sayin’, ha
‘Cause it’s laid out like that, you know
But wait a minute, we ain’t through
Kick the vamp

Whoa...ho...oh...
(Somebody rockin’ knockin’ da boots) Oh, baby, whoa

I want your good touch, lady
You’re here with me, my baby
It’s drivin’ me crazy
So won’t you come on
(Somebody rockin’ knockin’ da boots)
Come on and rock my body, rock my body, baby
Come on and rock my body
Yeah...ha...ha...hey...
I wanna lay you down
(Somebody rockin’ knockin’ da boots)
So let me make some sweet lovin’, baby
I will turn the lights down low and close the door
(Somebody rockin’ knockin’ da boots)
I’ll do everything to you, oh
‘Cause I’m ready


How can you not love that? You have no soul if you don't. Yes, those are harsh words, but I stand by them. I will end this here with these words to live by:

It's Teddy, ready with the 1-2 checker
Wreckx-N-Effect is in effect, but I'm the wrecker
Off the track, 'bout the honey shakin' rumps and they backs in
Booties of the cuties steady shakin' but relaxin'
The action is packed than a jam like the kinds of beat
Bound to get you up, cold flowin' like a faucet
Not meant to make you sit, Not meant to make you jump
But Jet make the hotties in the parties shake your rump
I like the way you comb your hair, uh
I like the stylish clothes you wear, uh
It's just the little things you do, uh
That makes me wanna get with you, uh

Welcome

So I've decided to use my livejournal solely for wanking, bad emo poetry, painful musings about junior high and boys, and other life changing topics. This blog, however, will be used to discuss the following important subjects:

• customers that are, erm...unique
• news
• pop culture (although I doubt I can speak on the subject as well as these lovely ladies do, but I'll try)
• baseball
• anything else that strikes my fancy, because really, my blog, my ravings, right?

Anyways, I work in retail (hence the title of this blog), in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. I sell cellular phones, and deal with some interesting things everyday. Williamsburg itself is an interesting neighborhood, having recently gone through a renaissance of sorts, and there's a cast of characters that I see everyday:

• the man who dresses like a character straight out of A Clockwork Orange, complete with monocle, derby, eyeliner, and breeches (yes, breeches. Not knickers, culottes, or even manpris. Breeches.) everyday.
• the internet cafe owner who papers the neighborhood with anti-corporate flyers while charging exorbitant prices for his services.
• various hipsters with purebred dogs dressed in ridiculous clothing (I'd bet money that pitbull doesn't want to wear that pink and purple striped hoodie with lace trimmings. Call it a hunch.)

There's many more, but I'll talk about them later posts. Basically, love me, comment, stroke my ego, whatever you please. Just don't be a hater, that's my job.