Katie Schwartz

Sardonic and hilarsquared comedian Andy Kindler will be covering the RNC. He's on assignment for the "Late Show with David Letterman." "Weather permitting, I will be appearing via satellite on the show (11:35 PM on CBS) starting this Tuesday, September 2, for three nights in a row!!! Each evening I will attempt comedy with a three second delay! I must be excited about this!!! Notice the overuse of exclamation points!?! My punctuation humor is top notch."

Jumping off the poli wagon for a mo... Here's a good yarn for yas. The good folks at Heeb Magazine , a most excellent Jewey read, one of my favorites, placed me in their Battle of the Schwartzes for the summer 08' issue. Fab, right? I thought so, too. I highly recommend it, by the by. She, me, dished aplenty about my forthcoming book, Emotionally Pantsed, and my thoughts on being a Schwartz, etc. Ah, but there's a catch, if you look at the picture below, you'll see that it is me. However, look at the name? Not only did I get a new first name, I got a fabulous back-story-makeover. Didjyas know I was a Jeweler? A famous one at that. When you pick up this issue and read about Lorraine , I'm sure you'll agree that she sounds like a very cool and wildly talented dame, to be sure. If the opportunity to get a back-story makeover presents itself, is it so terrible to be someone who sounds this cool?! No siree bob. The winter issue of Heeb Magazine is due out in January/

(FYI) Updates are in Red . Floating around the blogosphere are rumors that Palin's baby is her 16-year-old daughter's. I am jumping on this buggy faster than an Amish family churns butter. When this story finally breaks, it'll be huge. My girl, Politits has spun a must-read yarn with some interesting theories and facts we need to consider, It Matters . My other girl, PulpFriction is blogging her fierce and funny opinions, as well, here and here . And, of course, what post would be complete without the Daily Kos spin . (UPDATE) My girlie girl FranIAm has written a very important post about Faith and how Palin's faith, factors into this election. Read . (Update) via @drugmonkey on Twitter regarding a new article on the Daily Kos, Sarah Palin is NOT the MOTHER . Run. Read. Now. (Update) Politis new post Okay, Let's Talk About Something Important , John McCain's judgment and convictions to "Country First". Please read it. I love DCup. She's so

When asked by People ( HuffPo scoop ) if she was ready to be VP, Palin said, Yup . Very presidential that yup . You disagree? I guess so. She could've said "Fer shur, dude" or "Hells yeah" or "Yuppers" or "Fuck yeah, baby". I think it's offensive and insulting as hell to women, to think that we demmy broads would jump ship and vote for McCain because Palin has a vagina. Are you fucking kidding me?! SUCK MY OVARIES. I have news, Palin is a republican who wants to throw women back 50 years. She's anti-abortion, anti-equality, anti-gay marriage, she's opposed to universal health care, and if that shit-stew isn't disturbing enough, she's also pro-war, and a member of the NRA. Oh, there's more to come, children. This is the tip of the Palinstormberg. Hillary represents equality for women in the truest sense of the word. I would never vote for Palinstine, ever. When Biden and Palin debate, folks who are worried that he'

... Say it with me. Thanks to my good friend Teeny for sending me this ginormous shot of Coco Grand Rapids and some research on Coco's website , she has a lot to say. Or should I say alot to say. In case you were wondering about Coco's breasts and if they're real, here are the facts straight from her V, also found on the BIO link: "My breasts have been enhanced (ya don't say?!) and they've been done since late in my 18 years age (that's a sentence I'd want to repeat) . I've always had nice sized breast (breastSSSSSSS) but I just wanted them to fit my shape and I love to go braless " (forTUNAtely, your breasts will survive you, and your braless corpse can bounce into eternity. Happy?) . If you log onto her site and hit BLOG ATTACK , you'll see this dandy note, too: "Blog Attack (with an image of big red lips) A lot of ugly blogs are out there saying some really mean things about your Coco . It's easy when no one ever says anythi

Thanks to my good friend Bubbsie's mad skills and my less than desirable paint skills, we now have an official banner for the McCunt essay contest . Snag it, scoop it, syndicate it. Remember loverdeedo's, spin those yarns, or work your audio, or video mojo (love that word, it's so Camaro) and submit to katiegirl@gmail.com . I've gotten oodles of dandy submissions and have a few delicious spots left for October. Get ta'steppin, yo! After tonight's Obamalicious speech, I'm super motivated to elect this man into office. He was so presidential, wasn't he?!

So, yeah. okay. dish. Today, a friend of mine was driving along the highway minding her own business when some cuntola tried to sidle into her lane without signaling. She was going 55, and had to act quickly, you know how you do. She honked. Not long, not loud, short and quick. The lane stealing snatch called her fehatty. Fehatty! She's not fat. Chuvvy, yes. STILL. That's not really the point. Here is the point in my humble opinion when I've been called fehatty. It makes me feel soooo bad. As if fehatty-name-calling-snatchcookie called me the following one-liners: Stupid-fat-and-poor. Dirty-fuck-baby. And. Slovenly-bad-ass-wiper. It's okay to say fat. Chuvvy. Not a skinny minny. A chub on the low (meaning losing weight). Semi-Spheereena. Those I could live with. But, fehatty?! Ah, God, it's the worst. Cuntest updates from the Cuntessa (I cackle-snorted when I wrote that. Shame). I got the most di-viiiine PSA from the diva at PulpFriction . Her blog is so politicall

Regarding the "Wanna Fuck McCunt" C ontest . First, you have got to read the comments here on my blog, and here on FranIAm's Bloggy, you will howl your asses off. Oh, and WAIT, the goddess Jintrinsique who will be baking the contest winners Bojamacakes wrote a delicious post about the contest here . I am so proud of how many cunterific create-a-cuntariations have been posted. I feel so empowered and elated, so proud to be a dame. Yes, it's true, I'm kvellarella. Moving the story along... I've updated the rules because you're all so insanely creative and hilarious. 1) The CUNTEST officially starts on Monday, September 1st and continues through October 27th. Deadline for submissions is October 26th. My dad's birthday, a very lucky day! 2) If you're not ready to come out of the cuntloset, no worries, come up with a fabulous word that you feel great about and use it, can we say 3 times? Please?! 3) Instead of an essay, if you prefer to send a cart

Okay beautiful babies, All the Way from Oy to Vey is endorsing and promoting the hell out of Obama and Biden. No shit, right? Like you don't know I'm a lefty lucy?! As if you're new to my blog?! What am I, fucktarded underestimating my divine readers?! Forgive Jewgirl for her shortcomings, please. Grazarella. So. News?! I am running a contest on my blog for September and October. Each month's winner will receive a dozen Bojamacakes (cupcakes), courtesy of the divine baking Goddess Jintrinsique , shipped to wherever the winner likes in the U.S. Now that you're drooling. I am, too, by the by. Jintrinsique is sooooo talented in the baked goods department and quite a lovely dame, too. Packaged in exceptional design and presentation, each pastry will make your taste buds climax on the spot. PS: make sure you have wipes and a few paper towels when noshing. Here's the dish to enter the "Wanna Fuck McCunt" Contest 1) Each week, a guest blogger will post an e

I randomly check the top keywords (who doesn't, right?) I come up on every month and sometimes post them. I give you the top keywords Katie Schwartz's blog is coming up on for Jewlie and Auggie: Coco Fishnet : I admit it, I went through a big Coco writing phase, so much so that at one point BestStuff created a landing page with my name and Coco's image. Fab. Domestic Discipline: Is that really something this feminist would cover? Pussy Eating Contest: In my defense, that was a Blair Warner post from two years ago. Remember my Blair's Journal phase? Oy vey. Doreen Orion Queen of the Road July : Such an honah. Vintage Pussy: Is that like geriatric porn? Coco's Fishnet Dress: I digress Danny Bonaduce Dick: I had to dish that, but only once, and it was because he showed his mini-orange-peen, which was, hi, super creepy. Plus, it killed my love affair with mac & cheese". A win-win for sure. Is John Mayer Jewish?: I don't remember asking that question or

My girl and dear friend, Frannylish and Kelso's Nuts , another true and dear friend, of one of my favorite reads The Daily Pitchfork , overly-generously awarded my blog with the Kick Ass Blogger award. How super menschy are they?! Seriously. From Frannygirl: Katie - my Jewgirl There is nothing else for me to say. She is the kickiest assiest broad of all. She put the gefilte in the fish, the matzoh in the ball and the mazel in the tov. I love her without reservation . From Kelso's Nuts: KATIE "JEWGIRL" SCHWARTZ of All The Way From Oy To Vey: Very funny and honest writer with New York neighborhood smarts, a slick Hollywood cynicism, a wry Northern English layer, and a personal-is-political feminism that everyone has to dig. Literate, literary and sexy . I know, right?! Plotzarella squared. I think they were under a guilt influence at the time. This list could easily exceed 50. If you look at my blogroll, you'll see that all of the bloggers I've posted are blogs

Ahhhkay, here's the deal. I'm striving for change, so, you know, I'm changing everything in my life, as many things as possible, from the minutia to the extreme to achieve a greater good within myself. No, I'm not becoming creeparella-hemptress. Breathe. Come on now, it's me! In the midst of all of this self imposed change, there's this one thing that I can't seem to part with: my altoids tin. I've used this tin as my wallet for years (Frannygirl's seen it and I think Bubbsie, too), I'm talking 10 years we've been together. There is a lot of personal significance and meaning for me with this fuckin' tin (the shame... I know). The a-tin represented a time in my life when I felt the most free, when things in my life were so close to exactly the way I wanted them to be. There was accelerated movement in all areas of my life. I find myself wondering many things at the mineee... Am I afraid if I let it go, I'm giving up the concept that po

When Katherine introduced me to your work, I was so taken aback by the sheer beauty of your illustrations. Each is as classical as it is whimsical. And there is an elegant, inviting darkness to your work, as well. The women you sketch and illustrate, even in seemingly vulnerable positions illuminate strength and poise. I'm so intrigued by your work and want to know more about it and you. Start spilling, sistergirl. Do you remember the first time you drew something? If so, what did it feel like? I've been drawing as long as I can remember. I was always the "artist" in the family. When I was eight or so, I used to write my own Choose Your Adventure stories and illustrate them. I still kept a number of those- one of them was called "The Secret of Unicorn Valley." It was really silly, but there was this boy at school who saw my books and was so impressed by them that he wanted me to do a Transformers story. I was flattered, even though I thought the Transformers

Golly gee willackers, my day started with a glorious stretch and some yoga at home, followed by teeth brushing, flossing, some face washing and ear cleaning (I'm an OCDer to the core with floss and a few Q-tips). I was ready to embrace the day and opened my laptop. A few hours later, I made myself a generous helping of oatmeal served with a side of... Ohhhkkkay, surrealeena ?! While noshing on my meal-of-oats , helicopters circled several buildings bellowing from megaphones Come out with your hands up. I repeat, come out with your hands up and drop your weapon . So, what did my schmucky neighbors do? Run out of their houses and scurry down the street. Great way to get whacked. News?! I have a friend who is temporarily vegan and gluten free at the minee, too. We commiserate about how torturous it is for us , often. There are so few foods we enjoy. I understand a lot of people love being vegan and gluten free, I think that's fabulous. I'm over the moon for them. I'm j

I read Gail Konop Baker's memoir Cancer Is A Bitch *Or I'd Rather Be Having a Mid-Life Crisis , twice. Before reading it, I wondered if I'd be able to relate-- I've never had cancer, I'm lucky and grateful for that. I also grew up in a neurosis-is-the-breakfast-of-champions environment, where the word cancer is whispered for fear that elevating the pitch would somehow invite the disease into our lives. Flowing along that superstition, I wondered if reading a book about cancer would beckon a social call. Would I be dialing-a-disease-for-delivery by reading this memoir? What would my grandparents think? Should I even tell my parents I was reading a shh-book? And I wonder where my hypochondriac roots stem from?! Really? Really. OY. The minute I started reading Cancer Is A Bitch, I could NOT put it down. Honestly, irreverently, hysterically and exquisitely, Gail hurled me into what she endured and continues to face as a cancer survivor. But, more than that- the fren

Officially, I am grossly behind on my e-mails, grossly , like it's embarrassing how behind I am in e-stalking people back. My sincere apologies. The past four days have been a cluster fuck wrapped in a riddle, served on burnt toast with rotting oysters and penicillin drenched cheese. The Way We Were, saltines and Ginger Ale, my combo cure-all for stress, is doing fuck all. I have stressrhea, stomach pains that would make Satan climax, nausea to the point of making bulimics everywhere green with envy. Oh, wait, and I'm ovulating. If I were fucking, even myself, I'd be worried about getting knocked up. I'm too stressed out to take 5 minutes and spin a get-myself-off yarn. The shame. It's time to back the fuck off and re-evaluate my life. Before I do... I'm supposed to participate in a sleep study because of my freakish, incessant nightmares. My shrinktail hooked me up with a Sleep Daddy Doctor of Doom. Whatever. I called their office today to inquire about the pro

I finally got the chairs I wanted on Craigslist. OddChairBoy delivered two of the most divine 100-year-old chairs evah on Saturday afternoon. I got both chairs for 60 duckets, isn't that amazing?! I was plotzarella, too. I've always been so wildly in love with these chairs. They were so far out of my price range though, that I couldn't swing'em. I wonder how many asses sat on these chairs in the past hundy years, what decisions they made, how many of those tooh-chai were happy, how many hearts were broken, how many people laughed, wrote, spun a few verbal yarns. Perhaps that's why I adore vinty tchoch as much as I do. I like to imagine the history of each piece. Schwartzy is out to run errands and bust a few chops along the way. Have a beautiful Sunday, dollies. PS: Moon River (my favorite song) just popped on the pod. Bliss.

I was so sad to learn that Bernie Mac died yesterday. The world won't be the same without this extraordinary comic genius, a beautiful man-- brilliant and hilarious. B-Mac depicted family in reality, not some watered down, sugar coated version of family, one of the things I loved the most about him. Bernie Mac was the menschiest of mensches and such a talent, oy, and now he's dead. I am such a blueJew. I loved his TV show, " The Bernie Mac Show " and his stand-up comedy. He was one of the Original Kings of Comedy , donchya know! He was flawless. He will be missed terribly. 50-years-old is too young to die. Tributes to Bernie Mac .

My faith did the drama diva swan dive off the Golden Gate Bridge when I almost peeled out from Graves' disease . Over the past year, I've been working on faith restoration in every area of my life. Let me tell ya, it ain't easy. I have good days and bad days. Days when I am so in the flow of faith-- if we bonded any harder, I'd spontaneously combust from being overly faithed . Other days, I want to fuck faith in the ass with a giant cock the size of the Chrysler building sans lube. My faith is moody, tempestuous and unreliable. I know it's there, it's just a matter of rekindling it. Pre-Graves' I was a very idealistic broad. And now my idealism is fractured. When it surfaces, it's a beauuutiful thing. Today for example, I have been reading Wade Agnew's poetry books A Desultry Way and Solace for a Starving, Naked, Alone In The Dark Soul (does that scream KATIE or does that scream Katie?! Please...) The boy has serious poetry chops. I'm falling

I just started blogdating Traveling Man Rick . Sharing a love affair with the word Cunt , it was inevitable. Rick has coined a new variation on Cunt for men, MUNT . He wrote a fab post about it, including a few examples WE appreciate. His blog is divine. His views are liberal squared. He loves, loves, loves to travel. He's also a menschy good kid and fun-neee like nobody's bizola. Check him out. You'll dig the read, to be sure.

What is going on with my Karma?! I'm not cunty dame, or so I'd like to think. So, what the fuck?! The past few days I've been in Karmic hell and my K-Rolodex is yielding no insight. I'm trying to dig deep and figure it out. Let's begin with the chair Odyssey. Today, I schlepped my ass in 90 degree weather to a chair joint. My car doesn't have air conditioning, it's a vinty number, over 30-years old. Love it. Schlepped it from NY and I'm not giving it up, period. Anywho. I met with the owners of the chairs I wanted. Lovely black and white 7o's high camp chairs. I was thrilled, hoping to walk out of their with my new chairs. Mind you, I had cash in hand ready to complete my transaction. The owners sat me down with a clipboard in hand. A fucking clipboard. Their house was hotter than it was outside. God forbid they crack a window or use a fan. GOD FORBID. I admit it, I was a bit snippy. But, nice. Keeping my snippiness to a low roar. I pushed sarcasm a

Before I fluffed and folded my laundry, I decided to shower. By 10AM, it was 96 degrees. I had spent two-hours shvitsing like a hellnine chasing a fast ball. I'm well bonded with this shower. We've been together for two-years. I know she likes to have the hot water knob massaged before introducing cold . I can relate. I'm not a rebel for rebellion sake. It seemed an easy, respectful task. I was happy to oblige. There I stood naked in front of my shower with the hot water pouring out of the head (this sounds like a set up for a dirty joke, but it's not. Really .) and carefully turned on the cold water, so the two could get to know each other on their terms and find a mutually agreeable happy medium (Aquarius enough fah'ya?!). Testing the water with my fingertips, I noted that the hot water wasn't cooling down. I took a new approach and turned the hot water off, hoping the cold water would forcefully pour out of the shower head. Nothing doing. All hot. Hot. Hot. W

It's August, 2nd, 2008 and I have been doing a lot of thinking. Please, I spend so much time in my head, I blew " oy vey " away 10-years ago and replaced it with " oy gevalt ". Seriously, yo. I'm a brain dwelling freak'o nature, which wouldn't be so terrible if I wasn't a raging insomniac. I haven't really slept properly in about a week. What sleep deprived person do you know has perspective? I've been an irritable snatcharella on wheels. I know it and you know it. Impossible to communicate with in any meaningful fashion. God willing, I'll sleep tonight. Tomorrow, I'll wake up feeling, oh, I don't know, human. I'd love to say, refreshed, but that's a stretch. I have never excelled in the art of sleep. It's never been my sport of choice. I envy those who can hit the pillow and fall hard. My sister is a great sleeper. I wish I had that gene. My ma says she had insomnia in her 30s, too and chalks it up to hormones.

Rest in peace my sweet. I'm no wiser, no more resolved, no happier. I have spent the year mourning The Kid's death instead of celebrating his life. To date, that would be my only regret in life. I wish I could say that in the past 12 months, I've become a better person and more evolved in the death department-- I haven't. Every Friday, I lit a Yahrzeit candle and would recite the Kaddish , hoping it would sink in and that I would surrender to the global meaning. I didn't. I needed him this year. I wish he waited one more year before dying. Though, I try to remind myself that if he died today, it wouldn't be any easier than it was one-year ago. I wonder, would I have gotten through this year differently if I had him? Would his reflection of unconditional love have been the impetus I needed to find my way? Would the world continued to make more sense through his eyes? I don't know. As this day approached, I had bursts of anxiety, anger and sadness. The day is