Moving and Feelings and Feelings and Moving

Here I am sitting on my bed again. This time, no pants at all. Just some underwear and an "ironic" t-shirt. Not to get Jeffery Self on y'all (wink), but I'm moving out today and I have to say it's pretty rough.

From my bed I can see the Empire State Building. Last night I said goodnight to it from my room for the last time. I got all pity-party on myself when I started thinking about what it's meant to me. You see folks, growing up I could only fall asleep if the TV was on, so I would put on a movie every night when I got into bed. And most of the time it was "James and the Giant Peach." And most of the time I tried to stay up until the peach landed on top of the Empire State Building. And now every night before I go to bed I see the Empire State Building for real, and I'm like, "Girl, you've landed in your own peach." But now I have to go. Midway through this pity party I got pissed at myself for recklessly embracing nostalgia. So I blew my nose on the sleeve of my "ironic" t-shirt and tried to forget about it. But then I was like, "FUCK THAT. EVERYTHING IN MODERATION INCLUDING NOSTALGIA," and the pity party resumed in full swing.

I should also note, for dramaturgical purposes, that along with the bedroom-window-view I am also leaving the man to whom I was romantically linked. However, I'm not leaving on a sour note, which is good, but makes it more difficult. He's part of my family now. Like a close cousin I've had sex with. In fact, I love him more than any of my real cousins I've had sex with. I mean it.

I'll be fine. As most of you know, I'm a sturdy lady. But I hate talking about feelings with people. Every time someone says the words, "I feel..." I turn off and try not to vomit as I leave. So I wanted to say it without actually saying it. So I've said it! Now it's time to move some boxes and get myself some lunch.

To Mom

I'm sitting on my bed with my pants down, backwashing into a glass of Diet Coke, and it just hit me that I haven't seen my mother in a couple years.

So Mom, if you're reading this, and I know you're not because you can't even turn the computer on, I'm sorry it's been so long. I love you and I often catch myself daydreaming about visiting you. The first thing I'm gonna do when I get there is eat all your food and go through your pills. I can't wait. It'll be just like high-school, only now I have a higher tolerance for alcohol, psychological trauma from when I was mugged, and my own computer to watch porn. Growing up is just as magical as you promised!

Oh! Also, Dad called me. How did he get my number?

Cole Escola sings Taylor Swift's "Fifteen at Our Hit Parade at Joe's Pub

Goodnight, Irene

I can't believe it's been nine years since my grandma passed away. I still have clothes from back then! Hey-oh! But seriously folks. I wanted to do something nice for the dead broad because she sincerely meant a lot to me. She was the only person in all of my childhood that liked me. My family loved me, but they didn't really like to be around me or spend time with me. Grandma did. She used to call me her helper, but I liken myself more to a lapdog. She taught me how to read, how to draw barns, and how to box-step. She showed me Shirley Temple, Lawrence Welk, and that Pecan Dream is the best flavor of ice cream. In short, she taught me to be an old lady. To this day my mouth still waters when I hear someone talk about thimbles.

I looked for any and every excuse to be at her house. There were even two periods in my childhood when I was lucky enough to live with her: once when my dad chased us out of our trailer with a gun, and again when my mom went into rehab. Those events should have sad or angry feelings attached to them. They don't. All I can remember is how I was beside myself with excitement because I got to move into Grandma's. I slept in her room in a twin bed across the room from her twin bed. It was just like "I Love Lucy"! Actually, the whole situation reminds me of a realistic "I Love Lucy" reunion; 40 years later, Ricky's dead and Little Ricky's a drunken fuck-up so he sends his gay kid to live with his Grandma Lucy. I'd watch that! Anyhow, those were some of the happiest times of my life. It was during those periods that she got me into gameshows, scrapbooking, and rice pudding. What if that never happened!?!

As years went on my mom got herself a little more together and we moved out on our own. I finally made a couple friends my age at school, and Grandma started suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's. Eventually, she couldn't live alone and had to be moved to a care facility. Later, it got so bad she could no longer walk, speak, or eat because the Alzheimer's took over those parts of her brain. On September 22nd, nine years ago, she died of Alzheimer's.

But that's not how she'd want to be remembered and that's not how I intend to remember her. And even though she trained me to be an old biddy (and I'm so grateful for that) that's not how I'll remember her either. Grandma made me feel completely safe when nobody else did. That's very important when you're little and weird. So thank you, Grandma Irene, for making me feel safe. It's saved my life more than once, I'm sure. I love you!

Some photos of the lady.



Still a teenager in Alberta, Canada. Feeding a deer, as you do.



IRENE EMERSON: CAREER GIRL. My grandma worked part-time as a phone operator and a seamstress.



My grandma always wore black on Christmas. Class.




Goodnight, Irene.

Cockroach Caper!

Last night when I was making macaroni I killed a cockroach. Of course it's something I'm used to doing by now, but last night stood out because it was one of those roach killings where I had to hunt it for a while, you know what I mean?

I saw it first on the wall behind the oven out of the corner of my eye, then it disappeared behind the counter so I waited and watched for it there. A couple minutes went by and then it came out from under the fridge. "How the fuck did he get down there?!" I moved fast but he moved faster (I don't actually know if it was a "he", but I have daddy issues and I like to project them if I get an opportunity like that). He went under the oven, obviously seeing that I was after him. "Shit!" I thought, "I've given myself away!" I shut off the lights and did that cartoon thing where they pretend to walk away by making their footsteps get lighter and lighter. The fucker fell for it! He came out from behind the oven again, saw me, and almost scurried into the flames on the stove (keep in mind, I was still making macaroni). I was just inches away from destroying him when he took shelter under a jar of silverware. I picked up the jar, but he had already made his way out the back. He was no fool. He knew I was going to pick up that jar. I had no idea where he was, but that made me twice as determined to find him. No more cartoon tricks! It was all animal instincts and reflexes from here on out. He poked his little roach head out from underneath a cutting board, disappeared, then poked it out from under a dish on the other side of the counter. I had no idea how he was getting from one place to the next without me seeing. It was EXACTLY like Pacman (if the ghosts in Pacman were a gay guy making pasta). Exasperated, I was about to take a break to salt the water (always salt the water in which you boil your pasta, it's the only chance to season the pasta itself!) when I saw him go back under the cutting board again. This time I was lightening-quick. Before he had a chance to even think about his next move I threw the cutting board out of the way and smacked down a bottle of Windex right on top of his soft-shell body. SMACK! "Nice try, asshole," I wish I would've said.

I've been told repeatedly that animals' minds don't actually work this way, but when I kill an insect I always leave the remains right where they are, AS A WARNING TO THE REST OF THEM! After that, I enjoyed my macaroni. But not before taking this...

I call this photo "I shoulda been a headhunter"

Cole on Law & Order?

I booked a bit part on Law & Order!!! I have dialogue and a couple of scenes and that's all I should say because I don't want to give away any of the plot. I'm all wet 'n' sticky with excitement!! It's a small step for most actresses, but a big step for me! It films later this week which is why JEFFERY & COLE CASSEROLE: LIVE! has been moved from Friday, 9/11 to Sunday, 9/13. I've never been on the set of a TV show that wasn't Jeffery's apartment. I'm sooooooo curious to see how it all goes down. I'm nervous but it's okay because...

I'm dying to talk more about it but I've been obnoxious enough for one day. But just wait'll I tell you about the part I'm playing! You'll die!

P.S. It's plain ol' regular classic Law & Order, not SVU or Criminal Intent

Miss Duvall, How May I Help You?

Shelley Duvall, one of my favorite actresses and style icons, has reportedly lost her marbles. I've read several press articles that say Shelley Duvall believes she has a portal for aliens in her backyard. Some articles even say she believes they're living inside her. Kind of sad. At least I can rest knowing she has lots of new friends! Here's a little something to remember the old Shelley Duvall by.

Ahhh! If only the aliens had picked Shelley Long instead! Alas.

In other news I'm on day two of a juice fast. I have NO idea why I'm doing it. But I've started, and I feel like I should finish what I've started. I'm doing it with another person since misery loves company. Last night was particularly miserable as images of food danced around my head and pulled at my hunger strings. Bologna sandwiches! Figs and goat cheese! Pumpkin pie! These thoughts kept me up for hours. I tweeted how hungry I was last night and AndrewAndrew (of AndrewAndrew fame) showed me the light and told me to have a hamburger and a big hunk of cheese. "Life is too short!" they told me. They're right. But I'm stubborn. And now that it's been a whole day I'm thinking, "why not?" We'll see. I've promised at least three days, with a goal of five.

I'm starting to jot down some more ideas for Joyce. I figure I ought to, before the aliens get to me too.