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"Alec Baldwin once fondled my shoulders. I own a videotape dub of 'Superstar,' the never-released Karen Carpenter biopic Todd..."
More about Andrew
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Occupation:
writer/editor
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Hobbies and Interests:
Collecting weird underground video, eating meat, Swiffering, drinking cheap margaritas after work with my pals, making weird noises with guitars and electronics
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Favorite Books:
The Power Broker, Dating Your Mom, Cruel Shoes, A Confederacy of Dunces, The Executioner's Song, White Noise, What's the Matter With Kansas?, The Making of the Atomic Bomb, My Life as a Man
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Favorite Movies:
The Sweet Hereafter, Donnie Darko, Adaptation, Risky Business, The Conversation, Memento, Three Days of the Condor, Breaking Away
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Favorite Music:
Chris Whitley, William Orbit, Akufen, Rufus Wainwright, Mum, Air, Fountains of Wayne, Boards of Canada, Nada Surf, Dido, Soul Coughing, Grandaddy
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Favorite TV Shows:
The Office, Arrested Development, The Daily Show, Space Ghost: Coast to Coast, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Freaks and Geeks
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About Me:
Alec Baldwin once fondled my shoulders. I own a videotape dub of 'Superstar,' the never-released Karen Carpenter biopic Todd Haynes made with Barbie dolls. I've read my writing at KGB and Galapagos, performed music at Arlene Grocery and The Living Room, composed music for a couple of short films, and danced unself-consciously in boxer shorts in front of my cat. (That last thing is a secret.) Monkeys sometimes fly out of my butt, and then I lock them in a room filled with typewriters to see what happens. Learn more about me at panopticist [dot] com.
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Who I Want to Meet:
People whose eyes are bigger than their stomach. People who like to sing along to that part in Parliament's "Night of the Thumpasorus Peoples" where they go, "gah guh goo GAH, gah guh goo gah, guh guh goo gah gah." Someone who will help me figure out how to clean the inside of my didgeridoo.
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multiple cabs uptown, downtown, and
from one end of Manhattan to the other
during a snowstorm just to bring me
medicine when I was really sick. He's
a great wrestler, and he doesn't mind
when I snarl and pretend like I'm
going to bite his head off. I'd never
ever bite Andrew, but I'd definitely
bite you if you were mean to him ...
said "Andrew is my hero," I'd use all
that money to take him on a trip to
Tahiti, where we'd sit on the beach
and watch beautiful naked people while
I bought him buckets of food and
drinks. Then once he was good and
drunk, I'd think, Hey, maybe I should
steal Andrew's iPod, because he's got
that thing loaded with more awesome
music than most people have ever heard
of. But I would never steal Andrew's
iPod because he's my hero, and because
I don't need it: He's so cool and
smart, he made me buy my own before I
could think about stealing his.
occasionally want to throw warm butter
at. Yet, he's the kind of guy who'd
take you in after a long journey in the
Amazons and offer you some illegally
obtained MP3s along with some freshly
made "bachelor's stew." He's the mild-
mannered protragonist in a Frank Capra
film about insurance fraud. If he were
alive in the 18th Century, he'd be a
Lord with a fetish; or a tradesman like
a blacksmith or a progressive
pedophile. These days, Andrew can be
found playing the skinflute at Joe's
Pub each Thursday night. I'm his
manager.
proud of his high school mullet is just one
mere example of his coolness. Andrew is
the shiznit.
guys i know, but in that understated,
charming sense with a bit of a half-smile that
implies even HE doesn't quite believe he just
said something pants-wettingly funny. But he
does, regularly. That is, when he's not
cranking out groovy, loopy guitar rawk that--
if you're lucky--fits nicely on a custom CD
that works very well in charming ladies. I'd
introduce him to my female friends, but then
they'd start thinking I was less interesting in
comparison. Sorry, dude.
knew only slightly in college, off the
96th St subway platform one night in
the mid-90s to come down to the Cedar
Tavern for beers with my weird cyber-
pals. Cause if I hadn't, my life would
be poorer for lacking such an excellent
friend with whom to watch cultish
public access tv shows and debate the
relative merits of Columbia vs.
Absolute bagels. The only pang of
disappointment I have felt in my decade
of friendship with Andrew was when he
failed to name his cat Soterios Johnson
like I asked.
guy brave enough to come to my big
flaming homo-fest parties. and he's
one sexy hetero too. just don't ask
him about his weird gerbil pets. he
seems rather touchy about them.