"You went to my high school, right? Mmm your bod looks niiiiiiiiice now"
A direct quote from a class act, who attempted to pick up my friend in a bar last year. She is aging like a fine wine.
He is aging like an alcoholic... maybe because he is one?
29 October 2009
27 October 2009
OJ Did It
Do you hate on the Kardashians?
I do. I watch their show only when Brody Jenner is slotted in to babysit his crazy half-sibs.
But Perez posted something that made me love them.
And apparently, their vaginas. Proceed with Freudian caution!
I do. I watch their show only when Brody Jenner is slotted in to babysit his crazy half-sibs.
But Perez posted something that made me love them.
And apparently, their vaginas. Proceed with Freudian caution!
26 October 2009
Maybe the Fug Girls forgot...
That sometimes fashionably comfortable is amazing.
Case: Freida Pinto. Remember her, from that movie about India and the Millionaire?
Firstly, I couldn't even tell her top was thermal.
Secondly, WHO PAIRS THERMAL WITH VUITTON AND BOOTIES? AAAAnd pulls it off? Seriously. I love this in big ways.
You go girl, rocking the sexiest version of long johns I've ever seen.
Case: Freida Pinto. Remember her, from that movie about India and the Millionaire?
Firstly, I couldn't even tell her top was thermal.
Secondly, WHO PAIRS THERMAL WITH VUITTON AND BOOTIES? AAAAnd pulls it off? Seriously. I love this in big ways.
You go girl, rocking the sexiest version of long johns I've ever seen.
24 October 2009
The Economics of Pain
You heard it here second...Heels make us more successful, and in a tough market our heels just get tougher. Let the Fug Girls (or, Robert H. Frank, Cornell economics professor) explain:
If things get any crazier in the US, I think models will soon be on stilts.
He looks pretty excited about the whole thing. And yes, they do ship to Canada.
See also: McQueen Radicality, previously posted.
Taller people earn more, for example, and command greater attention in social settings. And hence the attraction of high heels.
If things get any crazier in the US, I think models will soon be on stilts.
He looks pretty excited about the whole thing. And yes, they do ship to Canada.
See also: McQueen Radicality, previously posted.
22 October 2009
Girl Crushing
It's ok to have a girl crush now and again, and Daria Werbowy is high on my list.
Case:
Here she struts, clad entirely in Balmain, in Paris last week. What I like is that she's homegrown Canadiana, and for a runway model has some serious thigh/bosom.
Praise Daria in all of her Paris glory.
Other fun things to note: Dior thinks this is a good outfit.
Also, Chloe thinks this in an outfit. To be fair, at least this can be worn by the average woman. However, this particular ensemble looks like the shawl Jewish men wear.
Chloe, get out of synagogue and onto the streets.
And finally, la piece de la resistance:
Alexander McQueen, I want to officially invite you to be in my life. Your RULE!! Pleasure is pain.
That's a wrap.
Thankfully, not a wrap dress.
Case:
Here she struts, clad entirely in Balmain, in Paris last week. What I like is that she's homegrown Canadiana, and for a runway model has some serious thigh/bosom.
Praise Daria in all of her Paris glory.
In other Paris-fashion-week-related news, JPG has finally created a collection of one-size-fits-all! My ass (that hasn't been to the gym since September) thanks him!
Other fun things to note: Dior thinks this is a good outfit.
Also, Chloe thinks this in an outfit. To be fair, at least this can be worn by the average woman. However, this particular ensemble looks like the shawl Jewish men wear.
Chloe, get out of synagogue and onto the streets.
And finally, la piece de la resistance:
Alexander McQueen, I want to officially invite you to be in my life. Your RULE!! Pleasure is pain.
That's a wrap.
Thankfully, not a wrap dress.
20 October 2009
Bringing Down the Babysitter, Part 4
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17 October 2009
Bringing Down the Babysitter, Part 3
Now, picture two hot ladies, out on the town after a decent meal.
We've already got our Spidey senses tingling, care of eye candy at dinner, and the men in the bar are sensing it. Especially in Jolene... she is one foxey lady.
And when men are sensing it, they are really big on buying the drinks.
Hours pass, and Jolene starts to forget about Hot Rod. She starts to think instead about the 5 rum and Cokes that some frat boy has bought her, and maybe a bit about the 2 he's also gotten for me.
Like I said, girl plays hard!
Around midnight, Jol is fully in the bag. I can tell she's going to have a rough morning. I'm thankfully less attractive, and thus less drunk, when the unthinkable happens:
Hot Rod is IN THE BUILDING.
And he's heading straight for us... a booth of frat boys and old ladies.
Jolene starts hollering at him from across the bar to come over; he's coming up behind me (more on this later... I am so witty) so I have very little chance to wipe the shocked look off my face when he gets to the table.
Hot Rod: "Hey, you guys were at Rod's (clearly, not the name of the eatery) earlier. I'm Rod, the owner."
Jolene: "Oh we remember! You are HOT! Come sit with us!!"
Hot Rod gets an expression of embarrassment... but also clearly knows he's not being lied to. And so he sits down, an obliging gentleman. Right across from me.
I pretend to be interested in Freshman Math or whatever is going on beside me, but I can feel his eyes on me. First on the face, and then on a trip back from the bar, over the bod too.
Thank goodness I Master Cleansed before I came home. I do look better than usual.
Under the table, I feel a tap on my knee. I look over, and Hot Rod is staring at me, green eyes sparkling.
"I know you from somewhere, I'm sure of it. Where are you from?"
"Here", I reply coyly. I really want to pretend that he's never been forced to play Barbie house with me and my brother's G. I. Joes.
"Where did you go to high school? Did you go to Michigan State?"
"No", I reply coyly. Technically, we did go to the same high school, but in different decades.
Now he's completely focused on me, which is good because Jolene is about to go home with someone SHE could have babysat. When she gets up to leave, Hot Rod parks himself beside me at the edge of the booth.
"I'm not letting you leave until you tell me" he whispers.
"Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to promise to still hang out for a bit. You can't leave me alone with the Sigma Chi Douchebag frat".
He nods in agreement.
I'm trying to play this as cool as possible... But what if my 7-to-9-year old dreams could come true? It's all too much to come up with a witty pun, and so I muster up this:
"I swam in your pool for 3 summers in a row when I was little"
He looks puzzled, like he's thinking I'm a friend of Jane's.
"With Jane?"
"No, she usually just watched us, me and my brother. Sometimes you did too"
Clearly he puts all the pieces together, because a minute later, he does this:
"Ohhhhhhhh my god. I can't believe I checked out the ass of Stella James! Man, you were a weird kid"
This is not the magical makeout lead-in I was hoping for. Clearly, it shows on my face.
"No, what I mean is, you seem to have grown up well." He smiles, and I have instantly forgiven him... but he offers to buy me a drink, anyway. I think that in this situation, more drinks is the only thing that's going to boost my confidence.
He goes over to the bar, orders drinks, and then motions for me to come over. At last! I am free from Frat Hell--somehow the guys at the table have managed to procure plastic cups and are deep into a game of Beer Pong.
We start talking at the bar, and I find out the critical details: he got a degree in business and English when he was at Michigan State; he was engaged a few years ago, but it didn't work out; he's currently single; he's no one's baby-daddy; and he lives at his parent's house because its close to the restaurant and they are away a lot.
I ask if it has anything to do with proximity to skinny-dipping, and he smiles.
We banter back and forth until last call. I look over at Frat Central--my boys have successfully met some sorority girls to challenge in Pong. I look back at Rod, green eyes a-blaze, shirt open an appropriate number of buttons to show a bit of chest hair, but also that he does his push-ups. As if on cue, Zack Morris style, he runs his hangs through his hair.
If my pants weren't so tight, they would be off.
Have I mentioned that Rod et al. live only one block from my parents' place? Handy, I know.
Hot Rod glances over to our Frat Friends, who are now starting to get yelled at by the bartender: "We should get out of here before things get crazy. I've seen Steve (the bartender?) get really physical with students". He smiles again, but this time it has undertones of absolute filth. Sexy, gratuitous, filthiness.
"Yeah, I'm thinking that going home is a good idea about now."
Hot Rod is already ahead of me, pulling me out by my hand.
WE'RE HOLDING HANDS!! my 7-year-old self shrieks.
HIGH FIVE! Yells back my 9-year-old self.
I must be smiling, because Hot Rod wants to know what the smirking is about. "Oh, this just would have been a big deal in my youth."
"The hand-holding?"
"Yeah, the hand holding is big for 7-year-olds"
Clearly he finds this endearing, because he is still holding my hand, and we are now about three blocks from the bar.
"You're cool to walk in those shoes? It's so nice out I can't bear to take a cab"
Oh, these 4-inch platforms? The ones that bring me almost to your eye level? Yeah, I'm keeping these puppies on.
But instead of giving him a shpiel about how I wear my heels all the time like Carrie Bradshaw, I just nod, smiling, like the 5th-grade me that is hooting and hollering in my head. It takes a minute for me to realize that we're going home together...
Read about it in Part 4! I swear, it's the last part.
We've already got our Spidey senses tingling, care of eye candy at dinner, and the men in the bar are sensing it. Especially in Jolene... she is one foxey lady.
And when men are sensing it, they are really big on buying the drinks.
Hours pass, and Jolene starts to forget about Hot Rod. She starts to think instead about the 5 rum and Cokes that some frat boy has bought her, and maybe a bit about the 2 he's also gotten for me.
Like I said, girl plays hard!
Around midnight, Jol is fully in the bag. I can tell she's going to have a rough morning. I'm thankfully less attractive, and thus less drunk, when the unthinkable happens:
Hot Rod is IN THE BUILDING.
And he's heading straight for us... a booth of frat boys and old ladies.
Jolene starts hollering at him from across the bar to come over; he's coming up behind me (more on this later... I am so witty) so I have very little chance to wipe the shocked look off my face when he gets to the table.
Hot Rod: "Hey, you guys were at Rod's (clearly, not the name of the eatery) earlier. I'm Rod, the owner."
Jolene: "Oh we remember! You are HOT! Come sit with us!!"
Hot Rod gets an expression of embarrassment... but also clearly knows he's not being lied to. And so he sits down, an obliging gentleman. Right across from me.
I pretend to be interested in Freshman Math or whatever is going on beside me, but I can feel his eyes on me. First on the face, and then on a trip back from the bar, over the bod too.
Thank goodness I Master Cleansed before I came home. I do look better than usual.
Under the table, I feel a tap on my knee. I look over, and Hot Rod is staring at me, green eyes sparkling.
"I know you from somewhere, I'm sure of it. Where are you from?"
"Here", I reply coyly. I really want to pretend that he's never been forced to play Barbie house with me and my brother's G. I. Joes.
"Where did you go to high school? Did you go to Michigan State?"
"No", I reply coyly. Technically, we did go to the same high school, but in different decades.
Now he's completely focused on me, which is good because Jolene is about to go home with someone SHE could have babysat. When she gets up to leave, Hot Rod parks himself beside me at the edge of the booth.
"I'm not letting you leave until you tell me" he whispers.
"Ok, I'll tell you, but you have to promise to still hang out for a bit. You can't leave me alone with the Sigma Chi Douchebag frat".
He nods in agreement.
I'm trying to play this as cool as possible... But what if my 7-to-9-year old dreams could come true? It's all too much to come up with a witty pun, and so I muster up this:
"I swam in your pool for 3 summers in a row when I was little"
He looks puzzled, like he's thinking I'm a friend of Jane's.
"With Jane?"
"No, she usually just watched us, me and my brother. Sometimes you did too"
Clearly he puts all the pieces together, because a minute later, he does this:
"Ohhhhhhhh my god. I can't believe I checked out the ass of Stella James! Man, you were a weird kid"
This is not the magical makeout lead-in I was hoping for. Clearly, it shows on my face.
"No, what I mean is, you seem to have grown up well." He smiles, and I have instantly forgiven him... but he offers to buy me a drink, anyway. I think that in this situation, more drinks is the only thing that's going to boost my confidence.
He goes over to the bar, orders drinks, and then motions for me to come over. At last! I am free from Frat Hell--somehow the guys at the table have managed to procure plastic cups and are deep into a game of Beer Pong.
We start talking at the bar, and I find out the critical details: he got a degree in business and English when he was at Michigan State; he was engaged a few years ago, but it didn't work out; he's currently single; he's no one's baby-daddy; and he lives at his parent's house because its close to the restaurant and they are away a lot.
I ask if it has anything to do with proximity to skinny-dipping, and he smiles.
We banter back and forth until last call. I look over at Frat Central--my boys have successfully met some sorority girls to challenge in Pong. I look back at Rod, green eyes a-blaze, shirt open an appropriate number of buttons to show a bit of chest hair, but also that he does his push-ups. As if on cue, Zack Morris style, he runs his hangs through his hair.
If my pants weren't so tight, they would be off.
Have I mentioned that Rod et al. live only one block from my parents' place? Handy, I know.
Hot Rod glances over to our Frat Friends, who are now starting to get yelled at by the bartender: "We should get out of here before things get crazy. I've seen Steve (the bartender?) get really physical with students". He smiles again, but this time it has undertones of absolute filth. Sexy, gratuitous, filthiness.
"Yeah, I'm thinking that going home is a good idea about now."
Hot Rod is already ahead of me, pulling me out by my hand.
WE'RE HOLDING HANDS!! my 7-year-old self shrieks.
HIGH FIVE! Yells back my 9-year-old self.
I must be smiling, because Hot Rod wants to know what the smirking is about. "Oh, this just would have been a big deal in my youth."
"The hand-holding?"
"Yeah, the hand holding is big for 7-year-olds"
Clearly he finds this endearing, because he is still holding my hand, and we are now about three blocks from the bar.
"You're cool to walk in those shoes? It's so nice out I can't bear to take a cab"
Oh, these 4-inch platforms? The ones that bring me almost to your eye level? Yeah, I'm keeping these puppies on.
But instead of giving him a shpiel about how I wear my heels all the time like Carrie Bradshaw, I just nod, smiling, like the 5th-grade me that is hooting and hollering in my head. It takes a minute for me to realize that we're going home together...
Read about it in Part 4! I swear, it's the last part.
15 October 2009
Bringing Down the Babysitter, Part 2
Where was I?
Right, the 90s.
Pretty much like every childhood friend, you lose touch easily. I still walked past Jane and Rod's parents' place every so often... and Jane had gotten my e-mail address and had let me know about her babies and life, etc. Never any mention of Rod, but that didn't seem to surprise me.
One day my dad sent me a clipping from our local paper. I guess Rod had done several things while we were apart: he went to college, became a successful entrepreneur (something to do with ice skates? I don't know... we're Canadian), and had recently moved back home and was starting a second venture.
But this venture was much more awesome: a restaurant.
Clearly, on my last visit home, I made a date with an old friend at said restaurant in hopes of catching a glimpse of my former faux-flame.
Let me just say this--the place was gorgeous, the food was pretty good.
But the highlight of the night was seeing perhaps the studliest man to ever come out of a grunge phase ever (not counting this piece of SMOKIN' work). He had obviously stopped partying on the daily, and maybe was hitting the gym thrice weekly.
He was wearing Brooks Brothers, with an open collar.
He looked maybe a few years older than me--not the 15 or so that separated us.
Even my friend Jolene commented on the heat of this dish.
I neglected to mention that he once wandered around my house aimlessly while I recited French verbs.
As proprietor of the operation, he came over to check on our meals at one point, at which point he gave me a good stare... Jolene was jealous. But she also wanted to get in his pants a bit, so when he asked how everything was, she mentioned that we were going to be at a bar a few doors down afterward, should he be interested in a drink.
Girl has crazy game, always has.
I probably should have mentioned my connection, but it didn't seem right. I also didn't think he could place where he knew me from (I'm so much hotter now, with the boobs and the legs, and the heels. And the puberty).
I guess Jolene was really starting to feel him, because she offered to pay and left a massive tip for our mediocre waiter.
Our waiter, ironically, was feeling Jolene, because he showed up at the bar later on.
But that's all in Part 3! Coming right up.
Right, the 90s.
Pretty much like every childhood friend, you lose touch easily. I still walked past Jane and Rod's parents' place every so often... and Jane had gotten my e-mail address and had let me know about her babies and life, etc. Never any mention of Rod, but that didn't seem to surprise me.
One day my dad sent me a clipping from our local paper. I guess Rod had done several things while we were apart: he went to college, became a successful entrepreneur (something to do with ice skates? I don't know... we're Canadian), and had recently moved back home and was starting a second venture.
But this venture was much more awesome: a restaurant.
Clearly, on my last visit home, I made a date with an old friend at said restaurant in hopes of catching a glimpse of my former faux-flame.
Let me just say this--the place was gorgeous, the food was pretty good.
But the highlight of the night was seeing perhaps the studliest man to ever come out of a grunge phase ever (not counting this piece of SMOKIN' work). He had obviously stopped partying on the daily, and maybe was hitting the gym thrice weekly.
He was wearing Brooks Brothers, with an open collar.
He looked maybe a few years older than me--not the 15 or so that separated us.
Even my friend Jolene commented on the heat of this dish.
I neglected to mention that he once wandered around my house aimlessly while I recited French verbs.
As proprietor of the operation, he came over to check on our meals at one point, at which point he gave me a good stare... Jolene was jealous. But she also wanted to get in his pants a bit, so when he asked how everything was, she mentioned that we were going to be at a bar a few doors down afterward, should he be interested in a drink.
Girl has crazy game, always has.
I probably should have mentioned my connection, but it didn't seem right. I also didn't think he could place where he knew me from (I'm so much hotter now, with the boobs and the legs, and the heels. And the puberty).
I guess Jolene was really starting to feel him, because she offered to pay and left a massive tip for our mediocre waiter.
Our waiter, ironically, was feeling Jolene, because he showed up at the bar later on.
But that's all in Part 3! Coming right up.
14 October 2009
Bringing Down the Babysitter, Part 1
Long ago, in a faraway land, I was a young girl.
My brother and I used to get babysat by this girl who lived a few blocks away, Jane. And because my parents were all egalitarian and shit, on the rare occasion when Jane was busy, her brother Rod would fill in.
(Yes, I chose his pseudonym ironically)
Jane was an amazing babysitter. She always let us stay up late, she let us have Kraft Dinner whenever we wanted, she was gorgeous (which my brother was beginning to appreciate more and more) and she always had cute boyfriends that came to play (which, even at age 7 I knew was a good thing). Jane babysat for us until my brother was at least 14... far too old to be babysat, but we loved her.
Then a time came when Jane left for college. My brother was also old enough to care for the two of us when my parents were out (read: middle-school drinking in the basement), but on rare occasions when my brother was on a sleepover, Rod would come over and basically watch TV with me while I did my homework.
Rod was bad.
BAD. Bad-boy bad.
He had frosted tips, which eventually grew out when his hair got long and Kurt-Cobain-ey. But even in greasy wonder, I was aware of his implicit attractiveness.
And he sometimes used our house phone to call his dealer, which I knew was a no-no... but I would have basically let him set the house on fire.
But as luck would have it, a 9-year old girl and a 20-year old studmuffin could never have worked out, despite my best efforts to look mature at our babysitting sessions (lipgloss, flip-flops? References to 90210?). So, when I became too old for babysitters, I embraced freedom and bid farewell to my personal Zack Morris.
That was in the 90s.
Part 2 coming soon!
My brother and I used to get babysat by this girl who lived a few blocks away, Jane. And because my parents were all egalitarian and shit, on the rare occasion when Jane was busy, her brother Rod would fill in.
(Yes, I chose his pseudonym ironically)
Jane was an amazing babysitter. She always let us stay up late, she let us have Kraft Dinner whenever we wanted, she was gorgeous (which my brother was beginning to appreciate more and more) and she always had cute boyfriends that came to play (which, even at age 7 I knew was a good thing). Jane babysat for us until my brother was at least 14... far too old to be babysat, but we loved her.
Then a time came when Jane left for college. My brother was also old enough to care for the two of us when my parents were out (read: middle-school drinking in the basement), but on rare occasions when my brother was on a sleepover, Rod would come over and basically watch TV with me while I did my homework.
Rod was bad.
BAD. Bad-boy bad.
He had frosted tips, which eventually grew out when his hair got long and Kurt-Cobain-ey. But even in greasy wonder, I was aware of his implicit attractiveness.
And he sometimes used our house phone to call his dealer, which I knew was a no-no... but I would have basically let him set the house on fire.
But as luck would have it, a 9-year old girl and a 20-year old studmuffin could never have worked out, despite my best efforts to look mature at our babysitting sessions (lipgloss, flip-flops? References to 90210?). So, when I became too old for babysitters, I embraced freedom and bid farewell to my personal Zack Morris.
That was in the 90s.
Part 2 coming soon!
12 October 2009
Travel Companion
Last summer, I went to Spain for a few weeks with a friend. Goals of the trip included: getting over both of our failed relationships (hers, 6 months; mine, 2 months), employing our fair-to-poor Spanish skills, and kissing relentlessly.
Other people, not each other.
It was a great trip. We saw the sights, we slept in gross hostels, we met many Australians. I totally recommend.
I also met an American student, who we'll call Sam. Sam was about to start a grad program at UPenn and was with his two roomies for the summer. Sam had a girlfriend. But Sam and his friends ended up following me and my friend for a few days around southern Spain (Moral of the story: never let a 22-year-old lacrosse player plan your vacation?).
Anyhow, they were great company, especially when creepy old Spanish men hit on us.
On our last night together, Sam had a bit too much to drink and told me he thought I was adorable, and that he wished he could hit on me, but he "had that girlfriend, and all". I generally take these types of comments as flattery and move on. But he kept talking about her.
"She's looking for a job in Philly, I really hope she gets one or else I'm not sure we'll stay together"
Thanks for sharing.
Anyway, I had planned on attending a conference over the Canadian Thanksgiving that happened to be in Philadelphia, and we decided that when I booked my flights I'd tell him and we'd meet up for a drink.
Cut to last night, when I got an email from him:
"Hey! I just realized its your Thanksgiving. Are you in town? We need to hang out! I owe you a pool game and sangria."
I ended up having to skip the meeting and go home for Thanksgiving, so I wrote him those details, apologizing profusely for forgetting. And afterward, I was reminded of how cute he was. Innocently enough, I went to his Facebook page hoping for some "personal time" material. But before i could start the photo creeping, I saw that he had changed all of his personal info--he'd broken up with the girlfriend!
I'll rue the day you crossed me, family business!!
I can't believe that turkey > getting some.
Then I got to the photo creeping--he untagged himself from all the photos of them together!
Geez.
Now... how can I get to PA? Someone find me a MEETING!
Other people, not each other.
It was a great trip. We saw the sights, we slept in gross hostels, we met many Australians. I totally recommend.
I also met an American student, who we'll call Sam. Sam was about to start a grad program at UPenn and was with his two roomies for the summer. Sam had a girlfriend. But Sam and his friends ended up following me and my friend for a few days around southern Spain (Moral of the story: never let a 22-year-old lacrosse player plan your vacation?).
Anyhow, they were great company, especially when creepy old Spanish men hit on us.
On our last night together, Sam had a bit too much to drink and told me he thought I was adorable, and that he wished he could hit on me, but he "had that girlfriend, and all". I generally take these types of comments as flattery and move on. But he kept talking about her.
"She's looking for a job in Philly, I really hope she gets one or else I'm not sure we'll stay together"
Thanks for sharing.
Anyway, I had planned on attending a conference over the Canadian Thanksgiving that happened to be in Philadelphia, and we decided that when I booked my flights I'd tell him and we'd meet up for a drink.
Cut to last night, when I got an email from him:
"Hey! I just realized its your Thanksgiving. Are you in town? We need to hang out! I owe you a pool game and sangria."
I ended up having to skip the meeting and go home for Thanksgiving, so I wrote him those details, apologizing profusely for forgetting. And afterward, I was reminded of how cute he was. Innocently enough, I went to his Facebook page hoping for some "personal time" material. But before i could start the photo creeping, I saw that he had changed all of his personal info--he'd broken up with the girlfriend!
I'll rue the day you crossed me, family business!!
I can't believe that turkey > getting some.
Then I got to the photo creeping--he untagged himself from all the photos of them together!
Geez.
Now... how can I get to PA? Someone find me a MEETING!
10 October 2009
More on Roman
Well, I brought it up here, but...
the most hilarious poster ever. Below.
"No one does it like you" is right.
the most hilarious poster ever. Below.
"No one does it like you" is right.
02 October 2009
They Got It Right
Ok so you can gloss over the beginnings of this article, unless you have interest in random correlations between market activity and product sales, but it might be helpful when you read the conclusion: That Drew Barrymore's hair is a sign of either rebounding economy (if she gets her "ends" redone regularly) or a failing one (as the authors suggest, because this looks like the saddest root situation I have come across since Grade 10 math).
Or, as Econ Girl puts it,
I AGREE!
Although when I see the trailer to Whip It, with sweet pseudo-lesbo Ellen Page talking to herself in the mirror about how she can make out with a guy, "but that's it!" Drew really redeems herself.
Or, as Econ Girl puts it,
I have a strange suspicion that this behavior is going to lead to some unfortunate visible roots situations. Hopefully it doesn’t get as bad as what Drew Barrymore’s got going on here:
I AGREE!
Although when I see the trailer to Whip It, with sweet pseudo-lesbo Ellen Page talking to herself in the mirror about how she can make out with a guy, "but that's it!" Drew really redeems herself.
30 September 2009
Alas, I Knew This Day Would Come
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a great writer/director. He had great films, such as Rosemary's Baby (a personal fave, because devil-babies are hilarious), Chinatown, and more recently, The Pianist (Adrien Barooooooodaaaayyyy).
Oh Roman, you ruled the cinema.
But (allegedly) he drugged and seduced (that's a nice word for what appears to have gone down) at 13 year old in 1977.
Anyhow, Roman apparently finally got busted. In 2009. In Zurich, of all places.
This proves several things:
1. Money can buy you freedom; you can just avoid countries that will punish your crimes
2. The U.S. justice system is critically flawed--it took them THIRTY years to get this guy? HE'S A CELEBRITY. I can radar-track Paris Hilton, and you can't follow an old man around? COME ON.
3. In the 70s, anything went. Really. Especially in Jack Nicholson's den...
4. Poor guy is a Holocaust survivor... He's entitled to some weird behavior.
29 September 2009
Bringing Down the Brother, Part 3
The third act was always the best in Shakespeare.
And things got steamy quickly with the Athlete.
It was as if someone had replaced all of my blood with liquid courage and sex-crazed-teenage-boy-libido.
Johnny Depp as Don Juan DeMarco, is that you? (Click for sexy!)
I was in high school all over again. Trying to be quiet so as not to wake the parents, trying not to hurt myself in the wild, mostly trying to take as many mental images of the Athlete as possible.
Ladies have a Spank Bank too.
The makeout quickly progressed from over-the-sweatshirt boob-grabs to full-on under-sweatsuit groping. (Handily, these suits are clearly made for easy removal).
Before I was really sure what was happening, I had been entirely shorn of my cloth coating, he of his ployester warmup suit.
And let me just interject: as attractive as he had been up to this point, a fire-lit glimpse of him is still burned into my mind (literally, figuratively).
I straddled him, thinking that I would largely be in change of this blessed event. But after a few thrusts, I came to know the Athlete's strength in a completely new way. He picked me up, and using a tree for stability, gave me some of the best sex I'd ever had. Maybe it was the fear of being caught, maybe it was fear of the bears and foxes... maybe it was all those s'mores...
"I'm so close", I whispered.
"Hold on", he said, as he laid down by the fire. It was romantic, because being fireside is like that, but also completely arousing, because a) I was about to come, and b) because pain and pleasure often go hand in hand.
Because the Athlete is a gentleman, he lay down and let me be on top; often, I regard this as the lazy man's way of getting a girl off... but it wasn't bothering me at all. As I came, he grabbed my collar area--enough to know he wasn't going to choke me, but also enough to know that he was maybe more of a bad boy than I thought.
Seriously. The MOVES on this man!
Hot.
When I was done, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me down, rolled me onto my back and lay on top of me, sweating and kissing.
This continued for some time, but culminated when we smelled burning.
BECAUSE IT WAS MY HAIR.
Needless to say, in the morning, I had some es'plainin' to do...
But in the end, our secret affair remained a secret--and I hope that on my next camping adventure it happens again!!
Good luck to all of you who venture into the wild. May your exploits be sexy too!
And things got steamy quickly with the Athlete.
It was as if someone had replaced all of my blood with liquid courage and sex-crazed-teenage-boy-libido.
Johnny Depp as Don Juan DeMarco, is that you? (Click for sexy!)
I was in high school all over again. Trying to be quiet so as not to wake the parents, trying not to hurt myself in the wild, mostly trying to take as many mental images of the Athlete as possible.
Ladies have a Spank Bank too.
The makeout quickly progressed from over-the-sweatshirt boob-grabs to full-on under-sweatsuit groping. (Handily, these suits are clearly made for easy removal).
Before I was really sure what was happening, I had been entirely shorn of my cloth coating, he of his ployester warmup suit.
And let me just interject: as attractive as he had been up to this point, a fire-lit glimpse of him is still burned into my mind (literally, figuratively).
I straddled him, thinking that I would largely be in change of this blessed event. But after a few thrusts, I came to know the Athlete's strength in a completely new way. He picked me up, and using a tree for stability, gave me some of the best sex I'd ever had. Maybe it was the fear of being caught, maybe it was fear of the bears and foxes... maybe it was all those s'mores...
"I'm so close", I whispered.
"Hold on", he said, as he laid down by the fire. It was romantic, because being fireside is like that, but also completely arousing, because a) I was about to come, and b) because pain and pleasure often go hand in hand.
Because the Athlete is a gentleman, he lay down and let me be on top; often, I regard this as the lazy man's way of getting a girl off... but it wasn't bothering me at all. As I came, he grabbed my collar area--enough to know he wasn't going to choke me, but also enough to know that he was maybe more of a bad boy than I thought.
Seriously. The MOVES on this man!
Hot.
When I was done, he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me down, rolled me onto my back and lay on top of me, sweating and kissing.
This continued for some time, but culminated when we smelled burning.
BECAUSE IT WAS MY HAIR.
Needless to say, in the morning, I had some es'plainin' to do...
But in the end, our secret affair remained a secret--and I hope that on my next camping adventure it happens again!!
Good luck to all of you who venture into the wild. May your exploits be sexy too!
28 September 2009
Bringing Down the Brother, Part 2
Where was I?
Oh, right... Fabio.
As I was starting to get at, the Athlete could have had everyone on MILF Island competing in death challenges for his attention. And yet, he is still the sweetest, most modest young man (hey... let me have it) I know.
And there he is, casually catching some rays on the dock.
Now, despite his physical prowess, the Athlete has always been out of bounds (did you get my sports wordplay?)--no one wants to break his heart; also, I think I would be unfriended by at least 10 people.
Also, while the Athlete has mustered a few flirts after a few Jagerbombs, he's never actively pursued anyone I know. So you can imagine my (pleasant) surprise when the Athlete made a move.
Let me set this up for you Steele style. It was late in the evening, bordering on early in the morning (the time when the cougars prowl? Perhaps). The whole group of us had been shotgunning beers by the fire, roasting marshmallows and drinking homemade wine straight from the bottle since dinner. Guitars had been taken out long ago; now my one friend Jack was trying to play "Single Ladies" despite not knowing how to play the guitar at all.
Ok, maybe not Steele style just yet.
But as married, coupled, or otherwise uninterested people tend to do after too many drinks, people started to filter into the cottage (or into the woods, if you're classy like my friends Carol and Bill, together 2 years). Soon enough the fire was barely heating the few remaining bodies, and one was significantly more athletic than the others.
We made a collective decision to call it a night, and immediately my friends Matt and Kyle made a run for it. forgetting that leaving a fire unattended is the cardinal sin of camping. Smokey the Bear would have eaten them if he had been around.
Normally, you'd think, "Hey, I'm sitting with the hottest guy I know, in this romantic setting. And we're both majorly buzzed (I'm in a frat now? Ok.). This can only end sexily".
But the Athlete never goes for that, so instead I took a bucket down to the river. The Athlete was being manly and was stomping out embers when I returned.
Seriously, one axe and some plaid was all he needed to complete several of my fantasies.
And then he said, "Hey, maybe we can just sit here for a bit before going in?"
SCHWING! But still, I am not seeing this as a play for getting in my sweats.
So we sit, and we chat for some time. The Athlete is confiding in me like a sister, but he's not telling me about the mean kids on the playground or his homework. He's telling me he wishes he spent more time meeting people in school instead of being a varsity athlete. And how he wishes he had gone out more with his frat brothers. And that he might be getting too old for that. But that he's not ready for marriage, at least not until he can open and close a wild-out chapter of his life.
Oh, Athlete.
Welcome to the Den of Sin.
I try to reassure him in a sisterly way; I'm still pretty sure that my friends are awake only a few steps away. I'm also pretty sure that the Athlete would be a wonderful conquest. No! Suppress!!
Me: "Tons of guys our age are still acting like teenagers, Athlete. You have nothing to worry about. Plus you're a fox! You should have no problem. Just be yourself, you're a great guy."
Quiet your loins, Garage Girl!
But they aren't listening. And I think he can hear them, because without any prompting, he grabbed the back of my neck (Mmmm yeah) and kissed me.
With tongue.
**Don't worry, it's not over yet.
Oh, right... Fabio.
As I was starting to get at, the Athlete could have had everyone on MILF Island competing in death challenges for his attention. And yet, he is still the sweetest, most modest young man (hey... let me have it) I know.
And there he is, casually catching some rays on the dock.
Now, despite his physical prowess, the Athlete has always been out of bounds (did you get my sports wordplay?)--no one wants to break his heart; also, I think I would be unfriended by at least 10 people.
Also, while the Athlete has mustered a few flirts after a few Jagerbombs, he's never actively pursued anyone I know. So you can imagine my (pleasant) surprise when the Athlete made a move.
Let me set this up for you Steele style. It was late in the evening, bordering on early in the morning (the time when the cougars prowl? Perhaps). The whole group of us had been shotgunning beers by the fire, roasting marshmallows and drinking homemade wine straight from the bottle since dinner. Guitars had been taken out long ago; now my one friend Jack was trying to play "Single Ladies" despite not knowing how to play the guitar at all.
Ok, maybe not Steele style just yet.
But as married, coupled, or otherwise uninterested people tend to do after too many drinks, people started to filter into the cottage (or into the woods, if you're classy like my friends Carol and Bill, together 2 years). Soon enough the fire was barely heating the few remaining bodies, and one was significantly more athletic than the others.
We made a collective decision to call it a night, and immediately my friends Matt and Kyle made a run for it. forgetting that leaving a fire unattended is the cardinal sin of camping. Smokey the Bear would have eaten them if he had been around.
Normally, you'd think, "Hey, I'm sitting with the hottest guy I know, in this romantic setting. And we're both majorly buzzed (I'm in a frat now? Ok.). This can only end sexily".
But the Athlete never goes for that, so instead I took a bucket down to the river. The Athlete was being manly and was stomping out embers when I returned.
Seriously, one axe and some plaid was all he needed to complete several of my fantasies.
And then he said, "Hey, maybe we can just sit here for a bit before going in?"
SCHWING! But still, I am not seeing this as a play for getting in my sweats.
So we sit, and we chat for some time. The Athlete is confiding in me like a sister, but he's not telling me about the mean kids on the playground or his homework. He's telling me he wishes he spent more time meeting people in school instead of being a varsity athlete. And how he wishes he had gone out more with his frat brothers. And that he might be getting too old for that. But that he's not ready for marriage, at least not until he can open and close a wild-out chapter of his life.
Oh, Athlete.
Welcome to the Den of Sin.
I try to reassure him in a sisterly way; I'm still pretty sure that my friends are awake only a few steps away. I'm also pretty sure that the Athlete would be a wonderful conquest. No! Suppress!!
Me: "Tons of guys our age are still acting like teenagers, Athlete. You have nothing to worry about. Plus you're a fox! You should have no problem. Just be yourself, you're a great guy."
Quiet your loins, Garage Girl!
But they aren't listening. And I think he can hear them, because without any prompting, he grabbed the back of my neck (Mmmm yeah) and kissed me.
With tongue.
**Don't worry, it's not over yet.
26 September 2009
Bringing Down the Brother, Part 1
I think it's a law of science that all my friends have hot brothers. (Perhaps I just have attractive friends? Maye not...)
Case 1: The Athlete
The Athlete is several years older than I am, but has the emotional intelligence of an infant. He's notoriously single (but not gay), a very cheap drunk despite being a larger man, and is especially suave unbeknownst to his friends and family.
I recently had the pleasure of camping with said athlete, along with several of our coupled friends (including his brother and sister-in-law) and a few other singles for a week. I had been to the Athlete's family cottage before--bachelorette parties, post-college parties, relax-by-the-lake weekends; on none of these occasions had the Athlete ever been present (off being athletic I suppose!). But on this occasion, fresh off a month-long canoe trip, the Athlete came along too.
Now, the Athlete has always impressed me with his physique. (He's also impressed most females and questioning males, but that's besides the point.) Despite his chiseledness (not a word?), he often keeps his sweet bod under wraps.
So you can only imagine how my taste buds quivered when I caught a glimpse of his exceptionally tanned, muscular frame lounging on the dock as I got to the cottage.
**Now, before I get all Harlequin on you, I should warn that the rest of this story is less than buttoned up. Now, bring on the Fabio--in Part 2!
Case 1: The Athlete
The Athlete is several years older than I am, but has the emotional intelligence of an infant. He's notoriously single (but not gay), a very cheap drunk despite being a larger man, and is especially suave unbeknownst to his friends and family.
I recently had the pleasure of camping with said athlete, along with several of our coupled friends (including his brother and sister-in-law) and a few other singles for a week. I had been to the Athlete's family cottage before--bachelorette parties, post-college parties, relax-by-the-lake weekends; on none of these occasions had the Athlete ever been present (off being athletic I suppose!). But on this occasion, fresh off a month-long canoe trip, the Athlete came along too.
Now, the Athlete has always impressed me with his physique. (He's also impressed most females and questioning males, but that's besides the point.) Despite his chiseledness (not a word?), he often keeps his sweet bod under wraps.
So you can only imagine how my taste buds quivered when I caught a glimpse of his exceptionally tanned, muscular frame lounging on the dock as I got to the cottage.
**Now, before I get all Harlequin on you, I should warn that the rest of this story is less than buttoned up. Now, bring on the Fabio--in Part 2!
25 September 2009
Time to Give Up the Lohan, Return to the Gym, Hit on KIDS star?
Ok, so a few days ago I pre-wrote this post (come on, I have a real job too).
------
Against all better judgment, perpetually single Jason Segel did the unthinkable:
He partied with BOTH Lohan sisters the other night.
Sigh.
I guess I can't blame him. Linds is on her way back up, that other one is as hot as Linds used to be, but is still young, straight, and willing (probably), and Jason is getting a bit...
soft.
Now, it's obvious that I still would make out with him... but bring him home? I need a man with stamina, Jason, and I'm not sure you're physically capable right now.
100 crunches a night? Try. Because there is still love for you here...
----------
But now there's MORE!
He's got his mack on one more time, reportedly, with Chloe Sevigny.
Star of Kids, Big Love, and the Fug Girls blog.
No judgment Jason, because Chloe is often spotted on the town solo. She needs a man, much like I do. And she's in her mid-30s, which I hear is the time when the biological clock really gets a-tickin'.
WELL PLAYED, indeed!
I hope for procreations.
------
Against all better judgment, perpetually single Jason Segel did the unthinkable:
He partied with BOTH Lohan sisters the other night.
Sigh.
I guess I can't blame him. Linds is on her way back up, that other one is as hot as Linds used to be, but is still young, straight, and willing (probably), and Jason is getting a bit...
soft.
Now, it's obvious that I still would make out with him... but bring him home? I need a man with stamina, Jason, and I'm not sure you're physically capable right now.
100 crunches a night? Try. Because there is still love for you here...
----------
But now there's MORE!
He's got his mack on one more time, reportedly, with Chloe Sevigny.
Star of Kids, Big Love, and the Fug Girls blog.
No judgment Jason, because Chloe is often spotted on the town solo. She needs a man, much like I do. And she's in her mid-30s, which I hear is the time when the biological clock really gets a-tickin'.
WELL PLAYED, indeed!
I hope for procreations.
23 September 2009
Untitled (aka Distant Lover)
A friend of mine is currently in a long-distance relationship. Why?
Because she can't find any available men locally.
Is that not the worst thing you've ever heard?
It made me feel a bit desperate... which is maybe why I made some bad decisions on a recent trip to Toronto for the International Film Festival (more on that later; also, I saw some great movies).
But this friend, whom I was visiting... She is a local celebrity in Toronto, and as such whenever I visit we often get into some pretty swanky places and I get to meet other local celebs (FYI, Devon Soltendiek from MuchMusic does NOT look like a gay boy in person. He looks like someone I would like hot sauce off of).
She is both attractive and successful--but not too much of either to make you hate her, just enough that you are glad she's your friend so she doesn't steal your boyfriend.
And for some reason, she feels it necessary to go all the way to Montreal to get a booty call.
I tell you, is this not the saddest thing you've ever heard?
I'm going to go cut myself or something...
Because she can't find any available men locally.
Is that not the worst thing you've ever heard?
It made me feel a bit desperate... which is maybe why I made some bad decisions on a recent trip to Toronto for the International Film Festival (more on that later; also, I saw some great movies).
But this friend, whom I was visiting... She is a local celebrity in Toronto, and as such whenever I visit we often get into some pretty swanky places and I get to meet other local celebs (FYI, Devon Soltendiek from MuchMusic does NOT look like a gay boy in person. He looks like someone I would like hot sauce off of).
She is both attractive and successful--but not too much of either to make you hate her, just enough that you are glad she's your friend so she doesn't steal your boyfriend.
And for some reason, she feels it necessary to go all the way to Montreal to get a booty call.
I tell you, is this not the saddest thing you've ever heard?
I'm going to go cut myself or something...
22 September 2009
Sunday Movie: Shopgirl
Nothing gets you in the spirit of fall like a May-December romance, no?
So this Sunday I rented Shopgirl, which has been out for quite some time and stars Steve Martin as the wealthy December-character, Claire Danes as the love interest, and Jason Schwartzman as the third prong in the love triangle.
Basically, Schwartzman's character picks up Claire Danes, who works at Saks on Melrose in LA, but then she is stolen away by Martin. And then clearly Schwartzman wants her back, so goes on a life journey to make it happen.
Oh, also Claire Danes moonlights as an artist. Of course... because it's LA.
So, the goodies:
1. The awkwardness that is the first sexual encounter between Claire and Jason is amazing. Her panties saw "Please?" all over them which makes you think she's not as buttoned-up as she seems early in the film.
2. Claire Danes finally has an artful nude scene
3. Oh, and girl is from Vermont--when she goes home, her mom is the mom from 6 Feet Under!
The Bummers:
1. Steve Martin's narration is... a poor fit. Something about it is wrong. Maybe Alec Baldwin?
2. You either love or hate Claire Danes... and her characters never win me over to love.
3. Jason Schwartzman has to slick his hair back and wear a white suit to get the girl. Seriously, he looks like a cross between Miami Vice and Adam Levine from Maroon 5. I did not dig. Bring back the Jackson Browne hair!
4. If you work at Saks, show me Saks!
Clearly I didn't love the movie... who says that having to love someone your own age should trump loving an old, rich guy? And Steve Martin isn't that old. And he buys Claire Danes Armani.
Then again, Jason Schwartzman is undeniably cute. Losers in LA are never that cute I don't think.
Recommended if you are dating a loser and want him to shape up or ship out temporarily. Not for those who want to find and keep a sugar daddy.
So this Sunday I rented Shopgirl, which has been out for quite some time and stars Steve Martin as the wealthy December-character, Claire Danes as the love interest, and Jason Schwartzman as the third prong in the love triangle.
Basically, Schwartzman's character picks up Claire Danes, who works at Saks on Melrose in LA, but then she is stolen away by Martin. And then clearly Schwartzman wants her back, so goes on a life journey to make it happen.
Oh, also Claire Danes moonlights as an artist. Of course... because it's LA.
So, the goodies:
1. The awkwardness that is the first sexual encounter between Claire and Jason is amazing. Her panties saw "Please?" all over them which makes you think she's not as buttoned-up as she seems early in the film.
2. Claire Danes finally has an artful nude scene
3. Oh, and girl is from Vermont--when she goes home, her mom is the mom from 6 Feet Under!
The Bummers:
1. Steve Martin's narration is... a poor fit. Something about it is wrong. Maybe Alec Baldwin?
2. You either love or hate Claire Danes... and her characters never win me over to love.
3. Jason Schwartzman has to slick his hair back and wear a white suit to get the girl. Seriously, he looks like a cross between Miami Vice and Adam Levine from Maroon 5. I did not dig. Bring back the Jackson Browne hair!
4. If you work at Saks, show me Saks!
Clearly I didn't love the movie... who says that having to love someone your own age should trump loving an old, rich guy? And Steve Martin isn't that old. And he buys Claire Danes Armani.
Then again, Jason Schwartzman is undeniably cute. Losers in LA are never that cute I don't think.
Recommended if you are dating a loser and want him to shape up or ship out temporarily. Not for those who want to find and keep a sugar daddy.
21 September 2009
Comeback Celebs (maybe), 2
Lilo.
We were sad when you stopped wearing pants and got emaciatedly thin (well, sort of.)
But you have successfully kept off the pants, and weight, and you maybe even were spotted outside of a bar getting out of a car with Jason Segel (more later... get tissues, because you might cry).
But now you're going to get creative again? For UNGARO??
I hope this pans out. Girl needs a job, and might actually do something interesting in this position (sorry hon, Just My Luck was a bad movie). Come back, girl. Because you could make smoking a hot accessory again.
We were sad when you stopped wearing pants and got emaciatedly thin (well, sort of.)
But you have successfully kept off the pants, and weight, and you maybe even were spotted outside of a bar getting out of a car with Jason Segel (more later... get tissues, because you might cry).
But now you're going to get creative again? For UNGARO??
I hope this pans out. Girl needs a job, and might actually do something interesting in this position (sorry hon, Just My Luck was a bad movie). Come back, girl. Because you could make smoking a hot accessory again.
19 September 2009
Comeback Celebs
I love it when a celebrity comes back from the other side (rehab/not working for years).
May I reintroduce Kiki Dunst.
Remember her?
She was in Jumanji, with Robin Williams. And in the Virgin Suicides, with Josh Hartnett (more like Heartthrob, right?! Awkward...). Marc Jacobs loves her, and maybe we should too--again.
Kiki, let's keep you in vintage Chanel dresses, Marlboro Lights, and pining for Donnie Darko... but let's ease up on the drinking-excessively, coke-ravaged look you were sporting for some time. We loved you once, and we might do it again.
Good luck, child!
May I reintroduce Kiki Dunst.
Remember her?
She was in Jumanji, with Robin Williams. And in the Virgin Suicides, with Josh Hartnett (more like Heartthrob, right?! Awkward...). Marc Jacobs loves her, and maybe we should too--again.
Kiki, let's keep you in vintage Chanel dresses, Marlboro Lights, and pining for Donnie Darko... but let's ease up on the drinking-excessively, coke-ravaged look you were sporting for some time. We loved you once, and we might do it again.
Good luck, child!
18 September 2009
Stop the Hate, Rudd-Segel edition
Read about more world hate here:
Remember "I Love You, Man"?
Who am I kidding. Of course you do... Paul Rudd AND Jason Segel?
AND Andy Samberg?
Deeelish.
Well, Anwar Sadat, former president of Egypt/Nobel laureate, got mad shout out outs by looking like the dog. And his daughter is PISSED! According to the family's lawyer,
Wait... I'm guessing that about 2% of people who saw that movie had any idea who Sadat was before seeing it. And that a bunch of people went home, Googled the man and now know more about Middle Eastern politics as a result--in this day and age, that's kind of a good thing considering there's a pseudo-war there.
And now, everyone knows that his daughter is a d-bag. Good work, loyal offspring!
Remember "I Love You, Man"?
Who am I kidding. Of course you do... Paul Rudd AND Jason Segel?
AND Andy Samberg?
Deeelish.
Well, Anwar Sadat, former president of Egypt/Nobel laureate, got mad shout out outs by looking like the dog. And his daughter is PISSED! According to the family's lawyer,
This has caused serious psychological and moral damages to the plaintiff, as President Sadat is a prominent figure in the Arab history in general and in Egyptian history in particular.Oooh, burn.
Wait... I'm guessing that about 2% of people who saw that movie had any idea who Sadat was before seeing it. And that a bunch of people went home, Googled the man and now know more about Middle Eastern politics as a result--in this day and age, that's kind of a good thing considering there's a pseudo-war there.
And now, everyone knows that his daughter is a d-bag. Good work, loyal offspring!
17 September 2009
Stop the Hate, Me on Celebs edition?
Oy vey.
I never thought the day would come when I uttered this particular type of hate.
In the September issue of Interview magazine, Natalie Portman, girl I LOVE (because of: Closer, Garden State, veganese, slept with Moby once?), was interviewed by Jake Gyllenhall, boy I really enjoy (because of: brother of Maggie, quite studly, Jarhead naked butt).
Normally, you're thinking, SWOON! They are friends, they don't ever get drunk and show me that they don't wear panties. They are respectable despite their celebrity.
They are in a new movie together:
Seriously, even as I write this, having read the interview, I still think they both might rule based purely on my thoughts from B.I. (before interview).
(Tobey... you're still harshing my buzz.)
But OMG was it the most pretentious interview EVER! Read it here.
If you think you might gag, let me just give you an excerpt:
Who cares that you like the Ying Yang Twins? So does my cousin, and he is 16, thinks he lives in the LA ghetto, and wears pants 10 sizes too big for him. And he lives in an upper-class 'hood in Calgary. Come now.
Then again, I guess I forgot she was a Harvard grad... and GQ has taught us so much about their douchery.
Tears. One for each of you... and one for me. I never thought I could hate Hollywood's leading nerd.
I never thought the day would come when I uttered this particular type of hate.
In the September issue of Interview magazine, Natalie Portman, girl I LOVE (because of: Closer, Garden State, veganese, slept with Moby once?), was interviewed by Jake Gyllenhall, boy I really enjoy (because of: brother of Maggie, quite studly, Jarhead naked butt).
Normally, you're thinking, SWOON! They are friends, they don't ever get drunk and show me that they don't wear panties. They are respectable despite their celebrity.
They are in a new movie together:
Seriously, even as I write this, having read the interview, I still think they both might rule based purely on my thoughts from B.I. (before interview).
(Tobey... you're still harshing my buzz.)
But OMG was it the most pretentious interview EVER! Read it here.
If you think you might gag, let me just give you an excerpt:
"Oh Natalie, you are so rad." "Oh my gosh I so am! You are too though Jake."GYLLENHAAL: Yeah. Looking at all these things that you’ve done and contributed to the world so far, I would have thought that the evil wizard Gargamel would’ve been something you could have very easily stepped over.
PORTMAN: Thank you for saying that, but I’m far from fearless. I’m afraid of everything. But maybe when you’re afraid of everything, it sort of seems like you’re scared of nothing.
GYLLENHAAL: Well, there’s no courage without fear, so you must have great courage because you’re afraid of everything.
PORTMAN: That sounds like something from a Batman movie: “There is no courage without fear . . . ”
GYLLENHAAL: [laughs] Yeah, but I do think that’s true.
Who cares that you like the Ying Yang Twins? So does my cousin, and he is 16, thinks he lives in the LA ghetto, and wears pants 10 sizes too big for him. And he lives in an upper-class 'hood in Calgary. Come now.
Then again, I guess I forgot she was a Harvard grad... and GQ has taught us so much about their douchery.
Tears. One for each of you... and one for me. I never thought I could hate Hollywood's leading nerd.
15 September 2009
Sunday Movie: Inglourious Basterds
QUENTINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.
He just might be God.
I've always been a fan... because he's super creepy, looks a bit like he might murder me in my sleep, and is infatuated with Uma...
But he hit me good and hard this time.
Plot: straight-up Nazi killing, led by Brad Pitt and the lovely, but unknown-now, Melanie Laurent. (Schwing! And don't worry, Mike Meyers gets a random cameo). He leads a rebel military unit, she owns a cinema hosting some sort of Reich movie premiere.
End: dead Nazis all over the place.
The Goodies:
1. Tarantino has the most amazing vision. The effects are out of control. Blood is everywhere--way more graphic than ever in real life, but totally amazing. The final two scenes will actually blow your mind. Literally. Figuratively. (Watch and you'll see what I mean... clever me!)
2. Diane Kruger as a bombshell German movie star-cum-spy, who dies in a Cinderella-like, albeit Tarantino-fied, way. (Seriously, the movie was so good that I can't give up the details)
3. Clearly, Brad has had no face work... thank goodness. He's still a dreamboat.
4. BJ Novak, from the office, and the guy who plays Neil in Freaks and Geeks as Basterds. I Die, Rachel-Zoe-style.
The Bummers:
1. WHO THE F**K leaves a theater in the middle of a movie these days? HONESTLY. I guess the world has to have a certain number of imbeciles, right?
2. Seeing the movie with non-Jews who are weird about your excitement over Nazi killing. Come now, let me have my fun.
Seriously, the movie was amazing. I had the GREATEST smoke after... like after sex, but with much more violence than normal. A must-see for everyone.
**If your significant other refuses to see this movie, you should probably think about a new partner. Just sayin'.
The trailer, for your (my) viewing pleasure.
He just might be God.
I've always been a fan... because he's super creepy, looks a bit like he might murder me in my sleep, and is infatuated with Uma...
But he hit me good and hard this time.
Plot: straight-up Nazi killing, led by Brad Pitt and the lovely, but unknown-now, Melanie Laurent. (Schwing! And don't worry, Mike Meyers gets a random cameo). He leads a rebel military unit, she owns a cinema hosting some sort of Reich movie premiere.
End: dead Nazis all over the place.
The Goodies:
1. Tarantino has the most amazing vision. The effects are out of control. Blood is everywhere--way more graphic than ever in real life, but totally amazing. The final two scenes will actually blow your mind. Literally. Figuratively. (Watch and you'll see what I mean... clever me!)
2. Diane Kruger as a bombshell German movie star-cum-spy, who dies in a Cinderella-like, albeit Tarantino-fied, way. (Seriously, the movie was so good that I can't give up the details)
3. Clearly, Brad has had no face work... thank goodness. He's still a dreamboat.
4. BJ Novak, from the office, and the guy who plays Neil in Freaks and Geeks as Basterds. I Die, Rachel-Zoe-style.
The Bummers:
1. WHO THE F**K leaves a theater in the middle of a movie these days? HONESTLY. I guess the world has to have a certain number of imbeciles, right?
2. Seeing the movie with non-Jews who are weird about your excitement over Nazi killing. Come now, let me have my fun.
Seriously, the movie was amazing. I had the GREATEST smoke after... like after sex, but with much more violence than normal. A must-see for everyone.
**If your significant other refuses to see this movie, you should probably think about a new partner. Just sayin'.
The trailer, for your (my) viewing pleasure.
10 September 2009
Losing My Religion, Office edition
In case you were wondering, I do believe in love.
Difficult to find, rare to see, but when two people get together and sparks fly, you can't help but be mushy for them.
Even if half of the pair is perhaps the most delicious man on NBC.
JustJared.com reports that our man, John Krasinski, is going to be off the market (on TV and for reals) in mere months... we knew it would happen, because they are so friggin' attractive together, in a "we-love-each-other-but-aren't-gross" way.
I suppose congratulations are in order, but really I'm just sad. First, he gives up on the beard, then we lose him to the Dark Side (European ladies). What's next Jim?
As long as he is still gainfully employed by Dunder Mifflin, I think I'll survive.
Difficult to find, rare to see, but when two people get together and sparks fly, you can't help but be mushy for them.
Even if half of the pair is perhaps the most delicious man on NBC.
JustJared.com reports that our man, John Krasinski, is going to be off the market (on TV and for reals) in mere months... we knew it would happen, because they are so friggin' attractive together, in a "we-love-each-other-but-aren't-gross" way.I suppose congratulations are in order, but really I'm just sad. First, he gives up on the beard, then we lose him to the Dark Side (European ladies). What's next Jim?
As long as he is still gainfully employed by Dunder Mifflin, I think I'll survive.
09 September 2009
Living the Dream
**Apologies for not posting a Sunday movie review--long weekends are not for movies, they are for working on your tan for the last time before snowfall.
But back to where I was going:
One of the good parts of being a soloist amongst a sea of duets is that I'm pretty sure I have way more sex.
One recently-married friend had me over a few weeks ago and over the course of the afternoon made two jokes:
"It's not like we have sex that often--once every 5 months! Just kidding"
and
"Since we got married we've been doing in at least twice a day--haha!"
Now, I'm a big fan of cleverness (Hermione? Yeah), but I have a hard time tolerating jokes about real sex (not to be confused with hilarious stories, boner jokes, etc.). The former comment is just offensive given that her husband is GORgeous, and the latter is insulting because its not true and now I have impure thoughts about said husband (HEY--clearly I would never act on it. Although I should mention that he has an equally-delectable brother).
Naturally, I was thus a bit put off by her weird sex jokes. She was pretty strict about not having sex until marriage, so I get that it's new-joke territory...
But I think I might need to institute an "appropriate-now-that-you're-doing-it" joke rule. It's uncomfortable from all angles.
I also think that a majority of these problems could have been avoided with some pre-marriage self-love. You know what I mean...
But back to where I was going:
One of the good parts of being a soloist amongst a sea of duets is that I'm pretty sure I have way more sex.
One recently-married friend had me over a few weeks ago and over the course of the afternoon made two jokes:
"It's not like we have sex that often--once every 5 months! Just kidding"
and
"Since we got married we've been doing in at least twice a day--haha!"
Now, I'm a big fan of cleverness (Hermione? Yeah), but I have a hard time tolerating jokes about real sex (not to be confused with hilarious stories, boner jokes, etc.). The former comment is just offensive given that her husband is GORgeous, and the latter is insulting because its not true and now I have impure thoughts about said husband (HEY--clearly I would never act on it. Although I should mention that he has an equally-delectable brother).
Naturally, I was thus a bit put off by her weird sex jokes. She was pretty strict about not having sex until marriage, so I get that it's new-joke territory...
But I think I might need to institute an "appropriate-now-that-you're-doing-it" joke rule. It's uncomfortable from all angles.
I also think that a majority of these problems could have been avoided with some pre-marriage self-love. You know what I mean...
06 September 2009
Stop the Hate, Healthcare and hot Prez edition
Now, this blog is about being single and fab (is it? Who knows) but sometimes I read things that upset me.
As if Whole Foods wasn't pretentious enough... their CEO made a terribly rash marketing (?) statement by hating on my boy, Barack, and his health care reform.
Read about it here, from Dame Arianna "Skillz" Huffington.
Peut etre John Mackey should be hiring a publicist and writing some cheques to hide behind now. Also, should be mixing himself a BIG drink... everyone knows a stiff cocktail makes even the worst scandals seem less scandalous.
But stay away from the phone! No one likes an Obama-hate drunk dial.
**Here's a photo of this mustached maverick (hat tip to Tina Fey for taking back the word):
As if Whole Foods wasn't pretentious enough... their CEO made a terribly rash marketing (?) statement by hating on my boy, Barack, and his health care reform.
Read about it here, from Dame Arianna "Skillz" Huffington.
Peut etre John Mackey should be hiring a publicist and writing some cheques to hide behind now. Also, should be mixing himself a BIG drink... everyone knows a stiff cocktail makes even the worst scandals seem less scandalous.
But stay away from the phone! No one likes an Obama-hate drunk dial.
**Here's a photo of this mustached maverick (hat tip to Tina Fey for taking back the word):
03 September 2009
The Freshmen
Yes, you're thinking, that IS a good song from the 90s.
Also, the most attractive age in a man's life. Remember that commercial where there's a 30-ish woman running on a beach with her arms open?
"A woman's sexual peak is at age 30"
And then the teenage-mutant-ninja-boy running towards her?
"But a male's sexual peak is at age 18"
And then they didn't run into each other??
Well, in my life they are running into me everywhere!
Some clarification: I haven't told you this, but I work for the admissions office of a small liberal arts school. Great job: pays well, slow summers, free gym membership and parking. But my all time favorite part of the job: September freshmen.
I know, I'm sounding like a bit of a cougar here, but everything good happens in this blessed month. Hot young things strut around campus in board shorts and tees, flaunting their summer tans ("painting houses", "landscaping", "lifeguarding"... ahhhh). They come to the gym, get all sweaty pumping iron. (Incidentally, I am in the best shape of my life by September 30). They come to my office confused about adding and dropping courses. I wear my Tina Fey sexy-librarian glasses and help them out.
Come October, these hot studs turn into one of three students:
1. The stoner: only comes to see me in order to drop a class that he hasn't attended since the second day of school. Tear, he is now a lost cause in 90% of cases. On the other hand, at least they are okay with your smoking.
2. The athlete: after just 4 short weeks of varsity football/soccer/rugby/swimming, this guy is already 15 lbs more man; sadly, he also has lost at least 15% of his mental capacity and must drop a science course/switch to geography/ask if he can do a co-op term working at the gym.
3. The socially inept nerd: these guys don't even come to see me. They just send poorly-spelled e-mails regarding the new club they have started/class they think should be offered/prof who failed them on a midterm. VETO.
But in September, they are at the karaoke bars, kissing with reckless abandon, playing frisbee all afternoon.
I'm off to catch me a minor! Enjoy the month, college enthusiasts!
**on a related note, check out the GQ special feature on douches (the kind of college guy, not the hygiene product)
Also, the most attractive age in a man's life. Remember that commercial where there's a 30-ish woman running on a beach with her arms open?
"A woman's sexual peak is at age 30"
And then the teenage-mutant-ninja-boy running towards her?
"But a male's sexual peak is at age 18"
And then they didn't run into each other??
Well, in my life they are running into me everywhere!
Some clarification: I haven't told you this, but I work for the admissions office of a small liberal arts school. Great job: pays well, slow summers, free gym membership and parking. But my all time favorite part of the job: September freshmen.
I know, I'm sounding like a bit of a cougar here, but everything good happens in this blessed month. Hot young things strut around campus in board shorts and tees, flaunting their summer tans ("painting houses", "landscaping", "lifeguarding"... ahhhh). They come to the gym, get all sweaty pumping iron. (Incidentally, I am in the best shape of my life by September 30). They come to my office confused about adding and dropping courses. I wear my Tina Fey sexy-librarian glasses and help them out.
Come October, these hot studs turn into one of three students:
1. The stoner: only comes to see me in order to drop a class that he hasn't attended since the second day of school. Tear, he is now a lost cause in 90% of cases. On the other hand, at least they are okay with your smoking.
2. The athlete: after just 4 short weeks of varsity football/soccer/rugby/swimming, this guy is already 15 lbs more man; sadly, he also has lost at least 15% of his mental capacity and must drop a science course/switch to geography/ask if he can do a co-op term working at the gym.
3. The socially inept nerd: these guys don't even come to see me. They just send poorly-spelled e-mails regarding the new club they have started/class they think should be offered/prof who failed them on a midterm. VETO.
But in September, they are at the karaoke bars, kissing with reckless abandon, playing frisbee all afternoon.
I'm off to catch me a minor! Enjoy the month, college enthusiasts!
**on a related note, check out the GQ special feature on douches (the kind of college guy, not the hygiene product)
31 August 2009
Sunday movie: Closer
I saw Closer a few years ago, when it was a relatively new movie, and I remember being pretty blown away. But second time around, i think it got even better. If I could summarize this movie with one word, it would be "mindfuck".
Basically, Jude Law's character meets Anna (Julia Roberts), falls in love with her despite having wicked-hot Natalie Portman waiting at home, and proceeds to nail her. Then he sets her up with Clive Owen, in a super-creepy online sex-chat way. But that backfires majorly--let's face it, Clive Owen is a major man-babe.
In some twist of self-hate, Julia Roberts ends up falling for Jude Law (hey, it's happened to the best of us) while maintaining her Clive Owen relationship. But Clive finds out and takes serious revenge on Jude by keeping Julia and later nailing Natalie.
Poor Jude.
The Goodies:
1. Everyone is hot and doing everyone else, and they smoke non-stop. Great for a single lady who appreciates both types of activity.
2. The CAST... could it be more stacked?
3. Oh yeah, it's also set in London so you get a bit of scenery.
4. I would be only half a person if I didn't mention that Natalie Portman plays a stripper and she has a CRAZY LONG bare-ass scene with Clive Owen. He's yelling, she's smiling coyly... it's danger.
The Bummers:
1. Clive Owen is not naked, ever, at all. Even partially.
2. Considering how often they alluded to doing it, as a viewed I would have appreciated a few (very brief) sex scenes. Come on Julia, I don't think you'd even had a baby then! Show off your bod.
3. The Damien Rice music at intro AND outro? I don't think so. I understand it at the end, because Jude Law is literally one Deep 'n' Delicious away from cutting himself; but in the beginning, he's cocky and confident, and in love. Come on Patrick Marber (writer, care of imdb.com), let us think that love is a good thing.
I went to bed feeling like I wasn't missing out on the crazy of a relationship... and as an added bonus, Clive and Jude right before bed was not a bad call. Highly recommended for boys and girls.
Basically, Jude Law's character meets Anna (Julia Roberts), falls in love with her despite having wicked-hot Natalie Portman waiting at home, and proceeds to nail her. Then he sets her up with Clive Owen, in a super-creepy online sex-chat way. But that backfires majorly--let's face it, Clive Owen is a major man-babe.
In some twist of self-hate, Julia Roberts ends up falling for Jude Law (hey, it's happened to the best of us) while maintaining her Clive Owen relationship. But Clive finds out and takes serious revenge on Jude by keeping Julia and later nailing Natalie.
Poor Jude.
The Goodies:
1. Everyone is hot and doing everyone else, and they smoke non-stop. Great for a single lady who appreciates both types of activity.
2. The CAST... could it be more stacked?
3. Oh yeah, it's also set in London so you get a bit of scenery.
4. I would be only half a person if I didn't mention that Natalie Portman plays a stripper and she has a CRAZY LONG bare-ass scene with Clive Owen. He's yelling, she's smiling coyly... it's danger.
The Bummers:
1. Clive Owen is not naked, ever, at all. Even partially.
2. Considering how often they alluded to doing it, as a viewed I would have appreciated a few (very brief) sex scenes. Come on Julia, I don't think you'd even had a baby then! Show off your bod.
3. The Damien Rice music at intro AND outro? I don't think so. I understand it at the end, because Jude Law is literally one Deep 'n' Delicious away from cutting himself; but in the beginning, he's cocky and confident, and in love. Come on Patrick Marber (writer, care of imdb.com), let us think that love is a good thing.
I went to bed feeling like I wasn't missing out on the crazy of a relationship... and as an added bonus, Clive and Jude right before bed was not a bad call. Highly recommended for boys and girls.
30 August 2009
Celeb-u-smoke: Sarah Marshall Edition
What I love more than seeing a well-dressed Olsen twin hitting the town is seeing other perpetually single celebrities (ok, reading about seeing them) engaging in things that I do on a regular basis.
Case: (from People.com)
1. He's out smoking alone (despite being outside of a bar)
2. He's waiting for a friend, suggesting that he might be one of those crazy people who are always 10 minutes early (woo!)
3. He hit on the ladies by "smil[ing] at passersby". Come now, why so shy? This one actually has the goods to work a pickup line or two.
Now, it's no lie that Jason Segel is high on my list of crushes. He's large but not really in charge... and is not shy about being the only dude in his crew who hasn't hooked a lady.
So for all the single ladies who need a Sunday morning pick-me-up, I give you a recent photo, care of Alyson Hannigan's twitter.
Enjoy!
Case: (from People.com)
How I Met Your Mother’s Jason Segel was waiting for a buddy outside the Library Ale House in Santa Monica – but the funnyman didn’t ignore the ladies by any means. Segel smiled at female passersby as he smoked a cigarette. When his pal arrived, the actor gave him a hug before walking inside to sit down.Yeah, it's a male version of my day-to-day:
1. He's out smoking alone (despite being outside of a bar)
2. He's waiting for a friend, suggesting that he might be one of those crazy people who are always 10 minutes early (woo!)
3. He hit on the ladies by "smil[ing] at passersby". Come now, why so shy? This one actually has the goods to work a pickup line or two.
Now, it's no lie that Jason Segel is high on my list of crushes. He's large but not really in charge... and is not shy about being the only dude in his crew who hasn't hooked a lady.
So for all the single ladies who need a Sunday morning pick-me-up, I give you a recent photo, care of Alyson Hannigan's twitter.
Enjoy!
28 August 2009
Three's Company
Normally I would try to incorporate this into a story, but a funny thing happened last night...
I went out to the bar with some friends, in usual form. But this night was different, because instead of getting belligerently drunk and going home with a stranger, I was approached late in the evening by an old friend from high school.
I'm not in touch with too many people from high school--I moved away for college and have never really gone back. James is not an exception--before this night I don't think we've seen each other since maybe 2001. James is now living in the same city as me working for some investment firm. He's been dating the same girl for a few years and they live together. She seems nice enough.
In the heat of catching up, my friends left the bar without me and I was alone with James and his girlfriend.
And pretty much out of the blue, they asked me to do a 3-way.
Now, as interested as I am in this particular activity, I'm pretty sure that the only way to go about this type of thing is with someone who you've already slept with at least once (familiarity makes everything a bit more... fluid), and to be the guest star.
Thoughts or feelings?
I went out to the bar with some friends, in usual form. But this night was different, because instead of getting belligerently drunk and going home with a stranger, I was approached late in the evening by an old friend from high school.
I'm not in touch with too many people from high school--I moved away for college and have never really gone back. James is not an exception--before this night I don't think we've seen each other since maybe 2001. James is now living in the same city as me working for some investment firm. He's been dating the same girl for a few years and they live together. She seems nice enough.
In the heat of catching up, my friends left the bar without me and I was alone with James and his girlfriend.
And pretty much out of the blue, they asked me to do a 3-way.
Now, as interested as I am in this particular activity, I'm pretty sure that the only way to go about this type of thing is with someone who you've already slept with at least once (familiarity makes everything a bit more... fluid), and to be the guest star.
Thoughts or feelings?
23 August 2009
Sunday movie: Funny People
I have a pretty big bias in favor of Judd Apatow and Adam Sandler.
Seriously. If I ever met Judd Apatow, I wouldn't even hit on him because I love that he writes roles for his family in his movies... and that's just so sweet. He actually makes me feel like I might WANT to get married.
Plus he has this soft spot for Jason Segel that I share too.
And Sandler is pretty rad too, in an older-Jewish-man way. Lest I say he does the faith proud.
So let's get to the movie:
Despite being called "Funny People", and having funny parts, it wasn't a funny movie. But I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be--and I liked it that way. Sandler plays a great sad clown, Seth Rogen does stand up and it's actually funny, and the cameos are AHHHmazing. There's also a bunch of clips from Sandler's early years, which actually made me believe his role even more. I went in thinking that he would get the girl, and I enjoyed the twist ending.
Did I mention the JAMES TAYLOR set in the movie? Holy. He's the bomb and he doesn't know it, making his bomb-status even more potent.
The Goodies:
1. Seth Rogen might actually be a good actor in future non-stoner roles (although, Judd--because you clearly read my blog--keep 'em coming)
2. Comedians are funny on stage but they are just as sad and fucked up as everyone else
3. The status of my girl-crush on Leslie Mann is peaking and she's not on the market (and... I'm not into chicks)
4. RZA!
The Bummers:
1. Boo, being a wealthy celebrity is hard. Wah wah.
2. Jonah Hill might be edging in on "too fat"
3. I wasn't feeling the girl who played Daisy... but being a single lady, I have a natural aversion to other females, so my Daisy-hate might not have anything to do with her acting, and might have everything to do with her proximity to the Jewish males that make up this cast.
Jusy sayin'.
To sum up, I totally recommend this movie... Sandler's bachelorhood originally made me feel like a loser for being one too, but in the end he won me over. Good for singles everywhere. Might also be good for the couples too.
Seriously. If I ever met Judd Apatow, I wouldn't even hit on him because I love that he writes roles for his family in his movies... and that's just so sweet. He actually makes me feel like I might WANT to get married.
Plus he has this soft spot for Jason Segel that I share too.
And Sandler is pretty rad too, in an older-Jewish-man way. Lest I say he does the faith proud.
So let's get to the movie:
Despite being called "Funny People", and having funny parts, it wasn't a funny movie. But I'm pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be--and I liked it that way. Sandler plays a great sad clown, Seth Rogen does stand up and it's actually funny, and the cameos are AHHHmazing. There's also a bunch of clips from Sandler's early years, which actually made me believe his role even more. I went in thinking that he would get the girl, and I enjoyed the twist ending.
Did I mention the JAMES TAYLOR set in the movie? Holy. He's the bomb and he doesn't know it, making his bomb-status even more potent.
The Goodies:
1. Seth Rogen might actually be a good actor in future non-stoner roles (although, Judd--because you clearly read my blog--keep 'em coming)
2. Comedians are funny on stage but they are just as sad and fucked up as everyone else
3. The status of my girl-crush on Leslie Mann is peaking and she's not on the market (and... I'm not into chicks)
4. RZA!
The Bummers:
1. Boo, being a wealthy celebrity is hard. Wah wah.
2. Jonah Hill might be edging in on "too fat"
3. I wasn't feeling the girl who played Daisy... but being a single lady, I have a natural aversion to other females, so my Daisy-hate might not have anything to do with her acting, and might have everything to do with her proximity to the Jewish males that make up this cast.
Jusy sayin'.
To sum up, I totally recommend this movie... Sandler's bachelorhood originally made me feel like a loser for being one too, but in the end he won me over. Good for singles everywhere. Might also be good for the couples too.
22 August 2009
The Garage Story
Or, the reason I decided to start a blog.
Once upon a time, I had a close friend, Samantha. Sam was the kind of friend who rallied with you three nights in a row over Christmas break when no one else was free. She was the friend who showed up after every break-up with tequila, not ice cream. She even actively encouraged extra-relational activity at one point. She was also my roommate for a very long summer... but that's another story. If you had asked me 18 months ago, I would probably have equated her with a female version of NPH in Harold and Kumar.
And then she met Jeff at a Starbucks I think (seriously, who gets picked up buying overpriced coffee?) The short story of Jeff is that he can't wait to procreate and marry. Needless to say, after only 6 short months of dating, Sam and Jeff were cohabitating.
And the best part of moving in is... the housewarming party you get to have.
In previous instances, housewarmings among my circle of friends had an unofficial checklist:
1. Several rounds of King's cup
2. Partial nudity (often related to the previous item)
3. At least one couple would do it in the new house
and my favorite:
4. Excessive pot smoking
This time, however, was different. I showed up at 11 or so, after getting lost in what can only be described as the Labyrinth of Suburbia, to find Sam, Jeff, and perhaps 10 more couples casually drinking glasses of red wine, listening to Barry White in their newly-furnished living room.
It was like a scene from a movie. I heard a woman comment on "the lovely cornices". Several men laughed at a golf joke. There was no sign of a bong or another single person. (Ok there clearly were others... but they seemed not to notice that talking about drapes is a serious party foul). Perhaps these individuals had also gotten lost and were not in full party mode? The only solution that came to mind was to grab a drink... a stiff one.
The kitchen, however, was not well-stocked. Sam apparently had spent her gin/vodka/olive budget on marble countertops; even her staple tequila hadn't survived the shift to suburbia. Sherri, the new neighbor, offered me a glass of her homemade merlot: there's a chance that she was hoping to get me drunk before introducing me to her "very funny" coworker Dave, perhaps to rope me into joining Couple-palooza.
Sadly, in this case, funny = ugly.
And yeah, Dave was very funny under this excessively broad definition.
Dave had me cornered in minutes, as I suppose 30-ish unattractive males are accustomed to doing at these types of events. Now, I like to think of myself as a superhero sometimes--except that instead of having a Batmobile or boomerang tiara, my arsenal includes a martini and a Marlboro. Normally, I would have thrown back my drink and excused myself to refresh it... but whatever Sherri was brewing in her basement was NOT to be chugged. So instead I played the Marlboro card and went in search of Sam.
Now, a bit of background information is key right now: when Sam and I roomed together, that long summer, she was still a smoker too. We had a rule: any room with a fan could be smoked in: kitchens, bathrooms, even bedrooms if you were lucky. This rule stuck, and had been enforced in all apartments since then, even after she quit smoking entirely.
Back to the party--
I searched out Sam, hoping to drag her into the kitchen and comiserate over Dave Funny-Ugly. But then, the shock of my life: as I pulled out a lighter and cigarette, she stopped me.
"El, you can't smoke in here". Long pause.
"No really. Jeff and I want this to be our home, not some new frat house. But come with me, I'll show you where you can smoke."
The way she said "home" made me feel like she had aged 20 years over the course of finishing the sentence. I was pretty sure that neither of us had ever lived in a frat house. I'm still not even sure that frat guys are big smokers. Aren't they big on funnelling beer?
Sam took me through a side door and into the garage. "Look, there's even an ashtray! Just turn off the light when you're done and come back in!"
I could barely get out a "Thanks" and she was out the door, back to Jeff's lap. All alone in the cool garage, I knew a few things for sure:
1. That I was all alone, being singled out for being both single and smoker
2. That Sam was never going to want to do shots again, and
3. That Jeff must have been making way more than Sam led on, because I was looking at a brand new Mercedes.
In an act of defiance, I put out my cigarette on said vehicle... but not in a very visible place, because it's a sweet ride and I can't hate on that.
When I came back inside, it looked like someone had passed a new law that prevented the croch area of men's pants from being exposed. All the happy-ish couples were sitting in a circle, talking again about carpet samples and antique lamps (although, to give them credit, they were a bit more boisterous care of Sherri's home blend). I excused myself ("long drive home, have to work tomorrow morning") and set out to the car.
"Someone HAS to think this was wierd!" I exclaimed to myself. I reached for my phone, and started scrolling for a friend to share this bizarre encounter with. And that's when I realized I had no single friends any more.
So, dear reader(s?), hear my tales of woe.
Welcome to the blog
I've always been a bit apprehensive about blogging--who gives a shit what's on my mind?
But lately my married, engaged, live-in boyfriend/girlfriend, coupled friends have been especially bizarre. I think I'm starting to freak them out with my singleness. Anyway, I thought someone else might find some of their behavior to be just as bizarre, so when weird shit happens I'm going to write about it. Hope you enjoy!
Oh, and a side note. I'm not an asshole so some of the details I write are clearly not true (like names). My friends aren't actually the cast of Sex and the City...
But lately my married, engaged, live-in boyfriend/girlfriend, coupled friends have been especially bizarre. I think I'm starting to freak them out with my singleness. Anyway, I thought someone else might find some of their behavior to be just as bizarre, so when weird shit happens I'm going to write about it. Hope you enjoy!
Oh, and a side note. I'm not an asshole so some of the details I write are clearly not true (like names). My friends aren't actually the cast of Sex and the City...
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