Christina Pazsitzky

I have listened to and loved the Howard Stern Show since I was 14 years old and was overjoyed the day Jackie Martling left the show. Artie is a true talent and my heart goes out to him and his family. Here is the LA Times article about it.

Artie Lange

Hells Yeah. I could watch these kids live out their entire lives. “Jersey Shore”, “Jersey Community College”, Jersey Divorce Court”. All of it.

The Situation is this show is awesome.

11pm.

Here it is, the first time my name was on a marquee that wasn’t attached to a fish restaurant. Pretty exciting.  And in true form, my last name was spelled incorrectly. Sure, I could change it to something simpler and make my life easier. But life isn’t easy and I’m Hungarian.

America learned Schwartzennegar and Polanski, they are smart enough to learn Pazsitzky.

Here’s the view from the stage. I’ve always wanted to take a picture of the crowd. Here they are. I told them to make a funny face and some of them did. Others did not follow directions.

Here’s what my husband Tommy thinks about rules:

Just thought I’d share some photos from my Chelsea taping. It was so much fun and I can’t wait to go back.

I have to say, with all the hype around Chuey’s “nuggetness” I wasn’t a believer. Until I met him in person. He overwhelms you with cuteness and you can’t help but hug him and make this ugly face:

Can you believe how ugly my face is here?? Oh my God it’s awful. I can’t stand it anymore. Next pic.

If you’re wondering why this picture is taken from such an odd angle, it’s because Chuey took it. For a second, I wanted to be like “give it to someone taller”.  But then I thought that would be rude. It’s funnier this way. This was taken right after Chelsea announced Chris had his salad tossed by a cougar in Cabo.  Ah, showbiz.

Very excited!! Going over to the studio to tape very soon. It airs tonight at 11pm.

If you’re  a strict East Sider like me, you may have seen this guy obsessively walking around Silver Lake.

He’s known as the “Silver Lake Walker” because well, that’s all he does. No exaggeration, here’s his daily marathon in an excerpt from the article:

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a routine.” A routine that includes his epic 20-mile route around the Silver Lake reservoir, up Griffith Park Boulevard, down Sunset Boulevard to Silver Lake Boulevard, and back around again twice — plus 2 miles in his lap pool at home in the S.L. hills, and 4,000 push-ups every day. A routine that includes an extra 15 miles at night on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. A routine that he never breaks no matter what the circumstance or weather.

All day  every day wearing the same green shorts and of course, shirtless.  He is a doctor, so you’d think he’d be aware of the dangers of skin cancer…But I don’t mean to dump on him. I love  him. He’s so unusual and endearing.  It’s an absolute treat  driving past  this guy randomly  or even better – WALKING PAST HIM!! He whizzed past me a couple of weeks ago as I was strolling the reservoir and I eeked out a starstruck “hello”.  No response.  He’s got too much pavement to cover!

Spotting him feels like I’ve found Waldo and now can go about my day with this extra bit of good luck. It’s not just his incessant walking that’s amusing, but  that he reads a newspaper while he walks. So his head is down and he’s so focused on it that his back hunches over.  This article says he’s been walking and reading this way for like, 20 years…what if he’s reading the same paper over and over from 1990?? That would be so great. Here’s the article about him. Such a relief to know he has a home and a career.

Next I have to crack the identity of the guy who paints on his beard with a magic marker at the corner of 6th and Virgil. He sits at the bus stop with that crazy painted beard. If you know his story, please email me!

http://www.laweekly.com/2009-04-23/la-vida/the-walker/

There’s something so uniquely LA about Old School Cholas. They’ve always represented supreme bad-assness to me. Maybe because in public school, they came to my defense on several occasions when I was having the shit kicked out of me by a gargantuan 8th grader named Rozina.  Maybe because I’ve seen “American Me” too many times. Cholas are strong,  feminine and  unpredictable. At any moment,  they could pull a razor blade out of that perfect hair and shank a bitch for real.

Now that’s respect.

My only fond memory of public school in LA is smoking cigarettes with this Chola girl in the bathroom.  They called her “La Diabla” and we were in the same English class. I was supposed to be in Advanced English (the one subject I actually did well in), but the school felt it better to put me with ESL kids so I could help teach them English. Idiotic logic, I  know. But  I was hardcore goth at the time and had an intense curiosity of  Cholas. And it meant I didn’t have to do shit for homework, so it was a win win. La Diabla  sat next to me in class. Being as I was the only fluent English speaker, the teacher often forced me to read out loud for the class. This particular day I was given the humiliating chore of reading the end of “Flowers for Algernon”.  The teacher was so moved by the ending of the book that she started crying. It was then that I heard Diabla snicker to herself “Crazy white bitch”. Her cynicism was as pure as the white powder on both of our faces.  I knew we’d be friends.

We’d lock ourselves in this tiny two stall bathroom (yes, the bathroom actually locked back then) and smoke cigarettes and talk about boys. She told me how she and her friends listened to oldies, “you like oldies”? I would lie and say yes. This surprised me that  such tough kids liked this sentimental music. I would picture her violent Cholo boyfriend punching the shit out of some other guy while singing along to “Rock Around the Clock”. It added a sweetness to her whole scene.  She’d tell me how they’d all go parking somewhere and listen to oldies and make out. Goth kids didn’t do that. We avoided each other in dark clubs or skulked around malls. The central tenant to Gothdom is isolation. The more of a loner you are, the cooler.  The only goth girls getting any action were the heavier chicks who wore the not so porous, but super sexy vinyl gear.  So Diabla’s information was welcomed.

She told me all about sex (we were only 14 at the time) and how it was no big deal. How getting fingerblasted wasn’t anything to be afraid of. I totally played it cool, like “yeah I know…”  But I didn’t know. While I was an angry teenager, I wasn’t promiscuous. She was my oracle of sexual knowledge. We were the same age, but she had a real maturity about her that I enjoyed. Like those balls on her tiny socks gave her special knowledge my witchboots and cape could not. She knew about real life and I knew about the afterlife.  We shared the same shade of Brick Red “Wet n’ Wild” lipstick and agreed upon proper eyeliner application technique.  And it was La Diabla who came to my defense in the locker room during P.E. when this bitch Rozina was kicking my ass.  It’s not like I enjoyed fighting, believe me. I was horrible at it and I think La Diabla knew that.  I will forever be grateful to Cholas for saving this former Goth  girl.

…And it looks like somebody STILL loves Chola style…

That’s right, I am officially booked as a round table comedian on Chelsea Lately December 3rd and it airs that night. I love this show and the comics on it, I just can’t wait!