January 2009
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December 2008
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3 Ways to Improve MTV’s ‘Bromance,' BlackBook →
At penn station. No one knows how to open the doors.
Perhaps it's good then that tonight, I embark on a... →
Calvin & Hobbes & the auto bailout. →
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Tonight,
I am going to spend a night on the town with a girl who occupies a position somewhere on the masthead of this magazine. If that doesn’t scream, “Fun!” I simply don’t know what does.
Job Call: Attract People by waiving, conversing,... →
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I know all of you have been waiting with bated...
You want to go to there.
Other things I don't want in 09.
In addition to everything on this list, I don’t want non-celebrities and the continued proliferation of the European mullet.
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Madison is cold.
Other things that are also true:
- Kristen Wiig is a genius.
- Heidi Klum is a terrible musician.
Goodnight.
So over The Lake Effect.
Listening to Three Girl Rhumba while stranded in Paw Paw, Michigan is not awful. 6 hours from Madison.
Awkward fipster-hipster clash at gas station off I-80 in Pennsylvania.
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Smell that shoe. →
Unrelated: My dad indiscriminately refers to all running shoes as “Keds.”
All I want for Christmas is this. →
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What's she talking about? She needs to visit her... →
Things to consider.
1. Can an individual look on with “softly intelligent eyes”?
2. Is it possible to possess a “barely imperceptible smile”?
These people think so.
Who needs love when there's Southern Comfort? →
That song about women who break people's hearts...
Here you go.
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I just paid my credit card bill.
Happy birthday to me, indeed.
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Thanks Emily, for letting me channel my alter-ego.
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This is quite possibly the worst thing I could've...
Sigh.
The downsides to working from home.
I can’t really make a political statement when my work entails me inching eight feet from my bed to my desk, getting up only to drink a pot of coffee or nibble on a piece of bread over the sink because I haven’t done the dishes yet.
Brooklyn is no place to have your mid-life crisis.
What was Bill Murray doing at McKibben Lofts?
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Here is what the Spice Girls would sound like if...
Listen here.
Bye bye Michigan.
This is my hometown’s claim to fame.
I hope they let me through the security checkpoint with the frozen brick of mutton biryani my mother insists is part of a well-balanced diet. After disembarking at JFK, I look forward to taking the AirTrain to the A train by Howard Beach, which will creak along for an hour before I get to the F train that, fifteen minutes later, will drop me off in...
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Oh no!
:(
Dear Academy,
as I’ve already made clear here, Slumdog Millionaire should get the Best Picture Oscar. And don’t you dare consider some film that vaguely resembles this in its stead. Everyone else, I think you can download the soundtrack here.
Love,
Concerned moviegoer
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I am going to be reading in the basement of a...
I mean aloud. In front of people. Should you have nothing better to do on a Saturday night in January (date TBA), you can be one of the twos of threes of people that come to hear me read. Believe it or not, I’ve actually made considerable progress on my novel since it was bound together as short stories and stashed away in some faraway bookcase in Sarah Lawrence’s library this past...
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In which I debate the merits of a Saddam Hussein... →
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Hey, wannabe poets. Sarah Palin may get your job. →
This is for tomorrow.
Short version: Welcome back to television, Shohreh Aghdashloo.
Long version: Wait until tomorrow. Until then, read this stuff.
Why are Brownstoner readers so curmudgeonly?
I suppose I’d be too if the Best Western motel was going up next to me.
(It is. But a good twenty blocks away. Towards the boonies.)
Lily Allen's excellent use of balloons.
I promise* I’ll post something of substance soon.
* Err, probably not.
PS. What is it with recording artists and album covers that look designed by interns?
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...and Private Practice lives on, instead.
Pushing Daisies crosses over with Wonderfalls. And now Kristin Chenowith is singing this song by the oven. They canceled this show.
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6 Ways to Know If You're The Loving Kind
Here are six indicators that will help you determine if you’re “The Loving Kind”:
1.Waving red parasols
2. Leather non-gloves
3. Dancing around on the abandoned set of Hollywood Squares
4. Nibbling on strawberries
5. Dressing up like Duffy
6. Singing a song that vaguely plagiarizes a song you released a year ago
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A recipe for borscht.
Kylie + Coldplay = this thing.
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Where's Waldo: The Victoria Beckham Edition.
That Posh. She’s a sneaky one.
I am ~70% man.
It says so here. My taste in Christmas music should corroborate it.
This is my duty:
To care about Bollywood’s response to the Mumbai attacks last Thursday. Also it’s up to me to care about how Aishwarya Rai maintains marginal relevancy in America despite a lack of any on/off-screen charisma.