January 2009
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“Slytherins are basically Gossip Girl in robes.”
- Mike Stutzman
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Something else I do during my days.
Speakerphone. It’s updated on a kind-of-weekly basis.
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Your mom is so fat, she could eat the internet.
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Re: All that hoopla surrounding Animal Collective
I’ve finally got my mangy paws all over Merriweather Post Pavilion. If it blows my mind, I’m sure you will hear no end of it.
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More Britney Wisdom.
via overpowered:
Call me old fashioned but I don’t like it when someone touches me inappropriately within ten minutes of meeting me and then proceeds to spill some of their girly alcoholic drink on my sleeve. I had to cut and run thirty minutes in to the conversation when he decided to grab my arm, lean in, and declare, ‘I’m like the ringleader, I call the shots’ in my ear. I don’t know what came...
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There are days
when I feel like my life is closely starting to resemble Garfield Minus Garfield. Especially now that the cats have moved out (along with their lovely owner.)
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!
I just heard a progression of fire ambulance sirens outside that kind of sounded like the first few bars of this Britney song. Oh no.
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Ben Lee!
Here!
"I'm a deceiver, I'm a liar, I'm a hypocrite..."
via lialia:
No, Ted Haggard, you’re just gay.
And thus he learns gay shame. Your fruit basket’s in the mail, Haggard.
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Sigh.
Some days, I feel like Sarah Palin is entirely responsible for my day job.
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In defense of 'Slumdog.'
Here.
Incidentally, this is the first year in ever that I’ve actually got a movie I’m rooting for to win Best Picture. Opposite to that year when I had a movie I was rooting to not win Best Picture.
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Strange people are following me on Twitter.
Including someone named “Side Boob.”
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Hard-hitting questions.
I think my exorbitant use of the caps-lock key is why my instant message appeal is an acquired taste.
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Happy hump day, friends.
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'The Office' is on Netflix.
That does it. I’m never leaving the house again. Not for all the open bars this side of Manhattan.
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It's like that one time Snow Patrol covered the...
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0:43 in is kind of like that part in the first...
Not really. But have a look-see anyway.
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Err...
Yikes.
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This is one of the worst opening lines to anything...
Blechh. Really, Times?
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This time last year,
I was typing things on a laptop in the intern pen at Radar’s offices, sometimes making quietly catty jokes with other intrepid interns. Or else, I was shoveling M&Ms from the front desk into my mouth. One of my fellow former interns is now somewhere at the New York Post. And I’m meeting with another for a coffee tomorrow evening. I miss that place. If only because they were...
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Help.
My landlord awkwardly burst through and thanked me for keeping my door open and then left. He closed the door though. Unrelated: here.
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As I sat at the bar, doodling pictures of my best...
I frequently found myself saying, “Omigod I love this song,” to said best friend, in regard to something that was bleating from the speakers overhead. In layman’s terms this means, “Omigod this song is on my iPod.” Also, there were only six people in said bar, but I suppose it’s a cold Sunday night in January and what can you do, etc.
Also, I’m not as...
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HGTV brands my neighborhood the seventh...
No, really. Only weeks remain until I surface in the industrial rows of Bushwick and I’m actually looking forward to the switch.
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You know,
I’m kind of glad Bollywood is finally past the point of having to rely on Aishwarya Rai as the poster girl for Indian entertainment. That’s like asking Paris Hilton to exclusively represent Hollywood.
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A necessary update.
Remember that graduate-level inquiry I was doing into the provenance of boxes in pop music videos? A loud friend of mine directed me to a glaring omission which has subsequently been rectified.
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Beyoncé is not the next Saul Williams.
I just hope she knows that.
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Hole in my ceiling.
Yesterday, while I was busy doing life-changing work that makes this world a better place, I noticed my kitchen door fly open. Without any advance warning, my landlord burst in with a large steel ladder and a hirsute Slavic man followed behind him and they beelined for my bathroom. There was a bit of loud, confusing discourse followed by sounds of hammering and drilling. And then my landlord and...
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Eurgh.
I guess sense of humor isn’t teachable.
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Good pop comes in neat packages.
More specifically, in boxes. Observe:
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Something to do tonight.
I’ve apparently triple-booked myself tonight, but in all honestly, I’ll probably stumble to the G train and take it to Flushnik Studios where Niina Pollari (who’s pretty much a recurring guest star on this blog) will be reading some of her poetry — which is the epitome of quitegoodness. Also, here is her idea of heart-attack cuisine.
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Decency groups across America may be our greatest...
Also, it took me about thirteen minutes to explain what the title of Britney’s new single spells out to one of my closest friends. And even then, he was staring at me cock-eyed.
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Hm.
Sometimes I think Gawker commenters won’t be happy until one of Lars von Trier’s filmic torturefests does a full sweep at the Oscars.
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Poor Leelee Sobieski.
She hasn’t done anything good in about thirty-seven years, has she?
Getting over a cold.
So two nights ago, when I decided it would be a great idea to stay up until five in the morning with a few of my friends only to net a total of three and a half hours of sleep for the following day has not been kind to my immune system. I am currently bedridden, drinking water out of a mason jar and reading about Lord Voldemort.
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OMG QUEERTY.
Stop trolling my blog for music recommendations.
Crashing in Bushwick!
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Inauguration Blurb.
Look, I know Beyoncé is going to do a little ditty for the Obama’s official inauguration; and a bunch of Disney Channel muppets are going to do another high-profile inauguration bash, but the one concert I’d beeline it to would be the Dresden Dolls show at 9:30 Club. But I’m stuck in NYC unable to tear away to the capital. So go say “Hello!” to Amanda Palmer if...
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I'm obsessed with this tune at the moment.
This is VV Brown. She’s stunning. Someone erroneously called her an Amy Winehouse clone. Hardly, dears. Hardly. If anything, she’s just a more free-spirited Lily Allen soundalike. This is her next single.
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My Life in Links: 1.18.09
This is mostly for my own edification.
_ Last night I went to this party with this guy and this broad. (Picture here.)
_ Apparently an Italian pop singer was killed recently.
_ Starbucks will bribe you with a free cup of their sludge if you do five hours of volunteer work. It’s a tall cup.
_ Divas!
_ According to a notification in my inbox, Mott the Hoople is reforming. Their...
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& begin it with this.
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Here, end your week with this bit of profanity.
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The secret to life.
TK
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A reasonable litmus test to help you decide where...
Every gay bar below 14th Street plays Sophie Ellis-Bextor, which is fun and good and all, but the best ones will usually play Cut Copy as well.
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I am looking for a lovely new apartment.
So if you have a spare room for a reasonable price somewhere around Bushwick or Greenpoint and don’t mind an upstanding young man whose most annoying habits can be whittled down to talking on the phone in another language when his mother calls, get in touch with me. And no, I will not live in a railroad apartment or a windowless room. I am not 19. Thank you.
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This is to say that Lily Allen & I are kind of...
And we’re both essentially like Jenna Maroney.
(via overpowered)
Ever wonder what a defected...