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November 26, 2003

i think this has happened to all of us

a brief newscap, should anyone be reading:

Woman wanders into stranger's bedroom

A 21-year-old Ann Arbor woman thought she had arrived home from a bar when
she entered a stranger's home, took a shower and then passed out in a
spare bedroom, city police reported.

The 24-year-old resident of the home in the 800 block of Tappan Street
told police he was in bed with his girlfriend at 6:30 a.m. Saturday when
the woman entered his bedroom wearing only a towel. When he asked her what
she was doing, she claimed she was meeting someone, then walked into his
spare room and passed out in bed, police said.

When officers arrived, they had to shake the woman to wake her. Police
said she began crying and said she thought she had walked home after
drinking at the bar. She said she didn't know why she took a shower.

The woman was given an alcohol breath test and registered 0.18, more than
twice the legal limit for drunken driving, police said. She was given a
ride home by officers.

posted by jessica at 08:17 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 25, 2003

we all know she blows chunks

heard this first on don imus at, like, 6 am, but page 6 has a blurb on britney's booze-fuelled barfing. honestly, i would be willing to bet that the boot has only a bit to do with drinking (you don't hear a lot about her drunken rampages [think christina and paris], so the drinking-till-you-puke doesn't quite fit) and is more likely symptomatic of something much worse. and it makes much more sense if you recall the diet pill hubbub a few months back, and the fact that celebrities seem to be getting thinner and thinner. does this make me a rumor-starter? i hope so!

(on a side note, i sampled her cd at barnes and noble last night and it sucked pretty hard. i wanted to like it, but it was just terrible.)

posted by jessica at 12:19 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

as if i would actually post my address!

i just noticed that i've been answering the phone here like i'm still at work.

"She's unavailable right now, George, may I have her return? ...And where can she reach you, George? ...George, would you mind spelling your last name for me? ...Thanks George, I'll leave word..."

All for a freaking telemarketer.

still no coffee. i could just make some, but i like the fancypants kind. cmon people, help a sistah out. bff kenny is supposed to be here to cart me around but she has yet to materialize. apparently, i am not her sole responsibility. go fig.

i painted my nails and took off all the polish. i do that a lot. i want a manicure--oh, wait, no car.

my dad stocked the fridge with blue moon just for me. precioso!

so, um, is there anything happening out there today? i don't even feel like typing in URLs. you take your favorites list for granted until you switch computers.

this house is brimming with oatmeal cookies. dammit!

posted by jessica at 11:40 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

back in the saddle of my childhood

i'm home now. it's very cold and very gray and i am very out of it. slept a lot. can't decide if i should sleep more. i have no access to a car so i can't really go do anything. i need coffee but i don't want to make any. too lazy. no interesting anecdotes from the flight seeing as I sat next to a seminary student. i was asleep before takeoff. very uneventful. my back hurts. can't anticipate whether or not blogging will be fruitful or sparse, although my parents' new computer is quite alluring.

posted by jessica at 09:48 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

November 24, 2003

first football, then the federal government!

a friend of a friend from a2 works in congress and sent this official resolution my way. search for the words ohio state and look at the very first resolution that comes up (it's the newest listed): why sweat iraq when you can celebrate the brazen brawls of the big 10? totally legit. i love it.

posted by jessica at 04:09 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

express expose

i may have champagne taste, but i live on a boone's farm budget. admittedly, i buy my pants from express because they're cheap and they have different inseam sizes--when you're a wee lass like foxy j, getting every pair of pants hemmed is a pain in the arse and most pants are one-inseam-fits-all. so i'm loyal to express dress pants. natch i was pleased to find that my favorite disposable-whorish-fashionista store had introduced a new style, The Editor pant. they fit fabulously, but the tag reads as if j. peterman were writing for cosmo. yes, all of this is just on the tag:

"Work. What a day. Meetings all morning then off to a photo shoot this afternoon. Forget lunch. I'm looking forward to dinner. Not even time to change. I'm wearing the right pants, though. Sexy slim fit, fun flare leg...I look hot. Where would I be without them?"

I'm not making this up. This rubbish is on the back of a dangling piece of cardboard. I've never felt so absolutely stupid about wearing something that looks nice. believe me, if i were an editor, i wouldn't be shopping at express--i would, however, be skipping lunch and rushing to photo shoots because clearly that's how all editors live. it's annoying enough to be assaulted with single-successful-gal-in-the-city images all over the place--can you just leave my clothes alone?!?

posted by jessica at 03:41 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

voted on to be on an island with bahbwa

former survivor cutie elizabeth hasselbeck has been chosen to be the new cohost of the view. i'll admit it: this show was a total guilty pleasure for yours truly throughout college. it always started my day (and i never left the house before 11, so it worked out well) on a sorority-esque note. now that i'm no longer a regular viewer (lame pun, yuk yuk), i kind of miss their lame discussions and poor fashion advice. elizabeth might just be worthy of a nonsexual girl crush and, since i'll be loafing around the 'rents house this week, i'll totally get back into abc's preprogrammed clique and see if she can earn a place in my heart. if not, it's because i'm jealous of her.

why does the post think mary kate and ashley's wealth is news? in the past year, i can recall quite a few "look how rich they are" stories, particularly in one of the major news magazines, rolling stone, and the now infamously sticky vanity fair "tween" issue (which, on a side note, is still in our bathroom. ew).

could it be true? the sun asserts that angelina j and my boyfriend, colin farrell, are an item. they're both pretty strange fish, so i wouldn't be surprised. i think i could make colin a lot happier, but if you love something, you set it free.

posted by jessica at 02:48 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

the ugly tree is dropping its fruit

i know that page 6 often has a lot of hideous NYC socialite buzz that is irrelevant to any of us not on the island, but this morning's situation is just inexcusable. i'm not an aesthetic elitist by any means, but did the editors notice that they were printing pics that seemed like they were straight out of the pages of awful plastic surgery?

posted by jessica at 10:01 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 23, 2003

weekend wrap

MICHIGAN IS PRACTICALLY CHILLING IN THE ROSE BOWL! in a twist of irony, i've already got flights for chi-town during new year's. me thinks me may be changing some tix, but there will be some costs incurred. what do we think about this? conveniently, i joined the alumni association about 10 minutes ago.

sat night in palm springs: nice to get away from the smog for a night. stayed at the caliente tropics resort, which is really just a redecorated 60's-era motorlodge. but for the price, it was pretty darn clean and quiet. i wouldn't go there to party since there's about a billion rules, but for the time it was good. i'm not sure which was better: the empty tiki-bar with the sole patron being 80 year-old woman donning a bedazzled baseball cap, or the suntan lotion fragrance pumping through the venhilation systems. class-y. meanwhile, my faith in outlet shopping was restored (after several dismal childhood trips to great lakes crossing and birch run) by the magnificent desert hills premium outlets--who knew prada and gucci had outlets? not that it mattered--i still couldn't afford a damn thing from those places. i did, however, score nicely at bcbg, barney's, and max studio. i loooove shallow consumption of off-price goods. should you be in the desert any time soon, i highly recommend this stop. and that was about all i did in palm springs, since it was only about 50 degrees outside and my car was getting attacked by some vicious tumbleweeds.

agh, i hate packing for michigan. i don't have warm clothes that i actually like, i can't ever anticipate what i'm going to need, and i always over or underpack. shoes always pose difficult decisions, considering they take up space and add weight (damn you discount airline, with your weight limits). worst repercussion of going home: i'll miss the exclusive average joe viewing party on monday night, complete with special guests dennis, tareq, and all other LA-area "joes." alas, alack, alas.

posted by jessica at 07:02 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 22, 2003

more depressing things

i'm just getting up and my phone rings; it's a happily intoxicated friend on the 6 year plan in a2. she's in the end zone, she's screaming, and i'm stuck watching the kickoff on abc. abc, for chrissakes. and what is up with the artifical turf? sacrilege! but god, the aerial shots of the big house they're showing right now--breathtaking. this is actually why i try not watch too much michigan football--i get very, very sad and nostalgic, which will inevitably lead me to drinking my sorrows away before i get out of my pajamas.

posted by jessica at 09:38 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 21, 2003

pathetic

after two years here in the halls, one of our assistants is saying au revoir. natch, we had an ever so brief champagne party for her at the end of this damn dreadful workday (complete with cristalini. yes, cristalini). two glasses and your fj is back at her desk feeling mighty dizzy. what the eff? i feel so old. so worthless. so...old.

posted by jessica at 05:57 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

friday leftovers

is it just me, or has this been the.longest.week.ever? seriously, oy. in dire need of getting the hell outta here, i'm hightailing it to palm springs this weekend (although, unfortch, it's a bit chilly there), where everyone dresses like they're in a tiki lounge. then i'm home, i work monday and hit the airport for a flight home that same night, during which i will no doubt be accosted in the wee hours of the morn. at least i'll get a couple of days to decompress before i'm smothered with gravy by over-zealous members of the family. i just might be bringing home a tape of the upcoming ep of the OC. that's right, children: if i have my way, the OC will come to the dizz a day early, yo. which is a godsend, since viewing on wednesday night will be utterly impossible and lord knows i can't wait till thursday.

here's some content to make you swoon: the ugly, oldest hanson brother gets a blood clot from strumming too much. i seriously doubt that he developed this affliction while playing for an audience, seeing as there really is no audience for these guys.

i have no clue whether or not this guy is credible, but some dude at msnbc picks the wolverines to win over the buckeyes tomorrow [insert ridiculous cheers and hurrahs]. i really miss the big rival weekends in A2. i remember contemplating going to ohio for the game my frosh year, but then i was informed by a wise upperclassman that i would most certainly be killed. now, in hindsight, i should thank that person for saving my life.

i used to love ted casablancas, but now he makes me exhausted. where have the truly good gossipers gone? are we the true voices of dish these days?

lesson learned: prattling about underwear choices is truly the way to get a lot of buzz. gentlemanly readers: boxers? tighties? or the classy and functional boxer-brief?

posted by jessica at 03:19 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

letters

dear microsoft outlook,

greetings from one of your many half-heartedly-loyal users. how are you today? i wish i could tell you that i am doing well, but the truth is, i am not. you see, you're not working today. and you were barely working yesterday. while we all need a day off, mr. outlook, i don't think you understand the repercussions your absence is having on our office. my boss is going insane. everyone's bosses are going insane. no one here really knows how to communicate without you, even though we just switched to you from a much-more reliable novell program. please get your act together and try not to let us down. consistency is key--don't just work for two minutes and then crash again. we need you.

sincerely,
j
p.s. i know that our troubles are, in fact, not your fault and that our server is to blame, but were i to address a letter to someone like, say, the really important people at the top of our company, i'd get fired.

dear every salesgirl in the retail industry,

i'd like to take a moment to sincerely praise for your efforts in assisting me while i shop. were it not for your constant fake smiles and near-stalking of me while i peruse your garments, i might actually buy something from your stores. you may not know this, but you don't need to check on me every thirty seconds. if the shirt is working out for me, i'll buy it, and then you'll know that everything was going fine for me in the dressing room. but because you cannot just leave me alone while i look at things, i must refuse to buy anything from you people. this results in me saving quite a bit of money and, for these savings, i'd like to thank you.

best regards,
j

posted by jessica at 10:54 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 20, 2003

if i actually knew her, i'd make her take me everywhere

while she insists on wearing what basically amounts to shorts in lieu of all other underwear choices, she did introduce me to this, courtesy of these people. as an only child, i've always longed for an older sister to impart exactly this kind of wisdom.

posted by jessica at 02:14 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

if you don't want to hear about my underwear, don't read this.

but first: holly golightly gets some buzz beyond the jack and meg exposure on cnn. not bad, miss thang, not bad. point of interest: she uses her real name. very cool.

the post documents the rise and recent fall of the thong. which is totally newsworthy, of course. actually, i was about to post a rant on thongs just the other day but didn't for fear of pervy repercussions; now feeling justified by a "legitimate" media outlet, i'm weighing in.

i, too, went thong crazy for awhile. not in the intentionally-visible-with-my-low-rise-jeans sort of way--i just needed them to avoid panty lines with certain outfits. entering into the professional world, thongs have become more necessary with my endless array of bootylicious black pants. but the truth is, i have a tense relationship with my butt floss. there are certain days that there are no problems, but other days i am acutely aware of the string in my backside and feel incredibly uncomfortable. i'll shift and pick constantly. i can't seem to forget that there's something in the midst of my bum, just like the itch that gets worse when you want to scratch it but can't. the discomfort has nothing to do with the thong itself; these "thong-aware" days are totally arbitrary. i always end up performing gymnastics in the bathroom to get the damn thing off in the middle of my work day.

strike two against the thong: i cannot describe the shame and horror i feel when i sometimes realize that my thong triangle is actually--gasp--peeking out of my waistband. i've been a lot of things, but i've never been trashy (okay, well...maybe once or twice). so you can imagine how utterly disgusted i am with myself when, perhaps sitting atop a bar stool, i reach for my back pocket or something and discover that my stringy skivvies are hanging out like britney on a bad day. awful. i know plenty of women have the same problem, this unintentional display of thongage, but i always feel so damn embarassed.

i've always loved my granny panties. especially the ones from target, which are way more little-boy-hipster than they mean to be. my tighty whities are the best and often last ages without letting me down. yet there's a certain amount of embarassment when those are sticking out--and face it, people, with low rise jeans (and even my "regular" jeans are still low, tis the stizz these days), the undies are gonna pop out here and there no matter what. and going commando is unacceptable in denim; extremely uncomfy and risk of plumber's crackage. so what's a girl to do? which is the lesser of two evils? feel free to discuss while i pick my wedgie.

posted by jessica at 10:31 AM | Comments (14) | TrackBack

some people should not do live interviews

i had the pleasure of hearing benzino, co-founder of the source and loather of the white devil called eminem, engage in an extremely heated and ridiculous debate with the kroq crew re: the eminem "racist" tapes. rather than transcribe the debacle from memory, i'll just say that the whole interview ended in a screaming match about whether or not the jocks were racist (they're not, but i'm white, so what do i know). benzino then made the fatal mistake of declaring that kobe and mj are only in troubs with the law because they're black. oh god, don't even say that, you silly man! way to make yourself look like a total idiot. anyone with half a brain cell knows that 1. any nba star of any color would be in the same hot water and 2. mj sure ain't black.

posted by jessica at 09:31 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 19, 2003

if i was a cokehead, i wouldn't have this problem

flying 4000 miles in 48 hours has finally caught up with me: i am so exhausted today. i feel limp and lifeless. this may or may not having something to do with incidents taking place at el torito last night, but i still got to bed at a reasonable hour. while being tired isn't normally a crisis, i have a lot of tv-viewing to do tonight. i know i'm going to be up mighty late, immersed in OC and bachie analysis (totally Kelly Jo, yo), which means tomorrow will be even worse in terms of exhaustion. i can't even get away from the desk long enough to grab some caffeine. clearly i will be bumping mini thins with shots of red bull. i am dead on the inside and only seth cohen can revive me.

meanwhile, i'd like to enlighten everyone re: The (semi-official) OC Drinking Game. It's simple and, should you have any suggestions, feel free to contribute. (props to megan lynn for starting this) because it's so simple, however, there is potential for heavy intoxication (so be careful, kids, i know you like your drinks stiff).

basically, you drink anytime one of the following occurs:
-summer is shown in a bikini or bra top
-chino looks broodingly at anything
-seth says something really embarassing or lovably dumb
-you're just struck with how overwhelming peter gallagher's eyebrows are
-julie cooper appears in a tube top or anything else inappropriate for a mom to wear
-you can see marisa's ribs
-jimmy cooper's teeth look particularly brown and nasty
-sandy and kristen get sexual
-sandy mentions how happy they were at berkeley
-luke acts creepy-nice
-anyone fights
-summer says "ew"
-the cohens are drinking wine
-chino speaks more than 2 sentences at a time
-the show gets meta (for example, when seth criticizes sandy's eyebrows; when seth hears someone say "ew" outside his door and knows it's summer immediately)

by the way, if you think you've got the oc flavor pumping through your veins, check out this guy.

posted by jessica at 04:05 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

this one's for the children

the young boy in connection with MJ's latest sexcapades claims that wine and sleeping pills were involved with the alleged incidents. what's worse is that this kid is one of the cancer patients that MJ always had around and, if you read the above-linked article, it sounds quite a bit like the boy featured in the bashir special (at left). the giveaway: being ostracized by friends after the bashir spizz aired.

posted by jessica at 01:58 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

sneaking suspicion part deux

a self-proclaimed inside source (and believe me, i've got them up the arse out here) asserts that the next twist on average joe will be as follows: melana will put on a fat suit and makeup so that she is unrecognizable to the contestants (think paltrow in shallow hal). then, while in her fatty disguise, she will interact with them under some sort of premise, during which she can see how all of the guys, average or not, would treat her were she not a beauty queen. interesting--do we think this is a plausible episode? recently-deposed brad has informed me that the show's biggest twist is not even being advertised, so this could be it.

here's an interesting jacko lifeline to keep your lurid appetites in check. unfortunately, "starts touching little boys" is not listed with a definitive date.

posted by jessica at 11:33 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

enough already.

so there's an official warrant out for MJ. there should be a press conference over here in a few horas, so i'll update when that's all done. but honestly, i don't understand how so many people can be utterly convinced that jacko is some angelic man-child, utterly innocent of all wrong doing. when i was teaching in south central, almost 95% of my students adored michael jackson and thought he was forever innocent. can the cult of celebrity be so powerful as to overshadow the fact that the man is ill? whether he's touching kids or not, he needs professional supervision. no settlements this time, peeps. let's just treat him like any other citizen, for chrissakes.

neal pollack's website makes page 6. hipsters, is this good or bad?

i came pretty close to getting jumped at the bar last night when i cheered on the pistons in their 4th quarter win over the lakers. people seemed particularly irritated when i declared the win as an early mark of detroit's rise to metropolitan superiority. not that i really believe that, but i like to come off as a blue-collar princess over drinks in beverly hills.

posted by jessica at 09:39 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

November 18, 2003

a really interesting idea

colorado studies the possibilities of eliminating 12th grade and adding an extra year of preschool. when i first read this, i thought it was ridiculous, but on second thought it might make sense. think back to your senior year: how much did you learn? did you even give a crap about anything after the college apps were in? i know i didn't. after my experience in education, i believe that most kids aren't prepared for upper elementary by the time they get there, aren't prepared for middle school by the time they get there, aren't prepared for high school, college...you get the picture. perhaps the idea of adding an extra push in the beginning might alleviate some of the problem. a solution? no, not at all. but it's pretty obvious that the system isn't exactly stellar the way it is. no child left behind? in disadvantaged areas, they're all being left behind.

posted by jessica at 05:44 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

i'm not a computer geek

so i need some help. not that any of you are geeks, i'm just hoping someone might be able to help me address the following issues:

-i have a pop-up blocker, new antivirus shizz, and a firewall. yet i continually get a popup browser window for something called "the hun's yellow pages." it sometimes shows up when i'm on the net, sometimes it pops up when i'm just cruising through files on my hard drive. does anyone know wtf this is and how i get rid of it? i've got xp, if that helps...

-how do i install the sitemeter (y'know, the kind everyone has) on here? i'm using typepad for all of my blogging and i have no idea how to put something up that isn't in a pre-ordained category.
sitemeter sent me the html and all, i just have no idea how to put the shiznit on my sidebar.

-in that vein, how do i break from the typepad mold? is there a way to do design things that aren't already set into the program?

much love from the hood to any advice.

posted by jessica at 05:06 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

none of them are actually named joe.

told ya so. last night brad said au revoir, along with golf-club-throwin' tareq and that tall guy who praised macaroni and cheese. rather than comment on that stuff, i'd like to say the twist was pretty damn good: just when malena has it narrowed down to 3 average joes, 3 hotties come waltzing into the competition (all though the third one looked like there was something wrong with him). i was laughing until i noticed that the average joes were instantaneously hanging their heads and slouching. get some pride boys! stand up for yourselves! natch, i almost started crying for the joes because, once again, i felt so damn bad for them. that's every episode now where i start to sniffle out of pity. i'm such an idiot.

i lovelovelovelove it when d-list celebs involve themselves in politics. today it's BLANCHE--yes, that blanche from the golden girls (best show ever? any takers?). rue mcclanahan has written a fiery letter to john kerry criticizing his hunting habits. kerry took a pheasant hunting expedition as a photo op, and now he's lost a vote from the retirement crowd. pity.

he's at it again: police have searched jacko's house, reportedly in connection to allegations made by an unnamed boy. okay, this HAS TO STOP. if there's this many questions about the man's behavior, quit sending your kids to go hang out with him. remember the martin bashir interview? how can MJ even have access to kids after that???

oh my god, maria shriver CANNOT go on tv looking like she does! we caught a brief interview with her on the local news last night and while her pics look bad, she looks even worse on camera. hollow eyes, hollow cheeks, veins popping out, neck like a turkey. really sad. if she goes on camera with nbc, as she's supposed to be right now, she will be (un)consciously influencing countless eating disorders. hollywood is bad enough, we don't need our reporters and politicos to further saturate the female psyche with convoluted images of 'beauty.'

posted by jessica at 11:04 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 17, 2003

sneaking suspicion

brad will get kicked off of average joe tonight. confirmed? nope (so nobody go suing anybody, yo). but i just know and, if you actually care about how i know, give me a holla and my secrets shall be revealed. otherwise, be mystified by my psychic prowess.

posted by jessica at 03:51 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

agony

i had this mighty deep-n-complicated post all raring to go, but then i was asked to do some piece of annoying work and in a clicking frenzy, my art was lost. i will try my darndest now, however, to relive the post that never was.

news flash: you can indeed go home again, it just needs to be in sleepless 36-hour spurts. had a fab, if not hectic, time in the dizz this weekend. slept three hours after the horrendous plane ride in, hit up about face for some primping for the first time since prom, schlepped to the 586 for some hair repair, hauled tail back to the roc and was all dolled up in under 40 minutes. kennywinks was there to assist with a last minute earring crisis, complete with an exorbitantly priced pair of "loaners" that she no doubt has returned to nordstrom's by now. met up with em and her crew at the fete, where i schmoozed and charmed the pants off of everyone (many of whom are probably reading this and smirking). it was fun, actually. drank moet straight from the bottle on the way to o'tooles, which was full of the fratty goodness that i hold near to my heart. next morning, i was eating at ohop and trolling somerset (or "club somerset," if you will) but ended up broken-hearted and settled for some dsw action. and then, in the same breath, i was back on a plane for sunny LA. exhale.

unfortunately, i've come back to cali a bit too late: arnold schwartzenegger is officially our governer. aside from this man being completely under qualified as a politician, i still am in shock that a recall actually happened. a very dangerous precedent for the electoral system hath been set. speaking of dangerous, maria needs a cheeseburger before she keels over.

i was quite pleased to see that the dtw travelmart had all 5 covers of the latest spin, allowing me to consciously choose julian over fab. i mean, we bonded, i have to be loyal. this issue has something like THREE klosterman articles--he's a good writer, but enough already. rotate!

i've waited far too long for the news: the new cast of celebrity mole has been announced, acc'd to E!

"While Sisco is on hiatus, ABC will use the 10 p.m. slot to bow its latest installment of fame-seeking saboteurs on Celebrity Mole January 14. Say what you will Kathy Griffin, but the first season was a bona-fide hit for ABC, ranking as the fourth highest-rated series of its 2002-03 season.

"Participants this time around include Hanging With Mr. Cooper's Mark Curry, first season vets Corbin Bernsen and Stephen Baldwin, Growing Pain's Tracy Gold, The Cosby Show's Keisha Knight Pulliam, model Angie Everhart, talk show host Ananda Lewis, and former NBC superstar Dennis Rodman. Ahmad Rashad will return to host."

whoa, whoa, whoa people. hold up. MORE corbin and baldwin??! i admit, i watched this show last year merely because i was too lazy to turn the channel apres the bachelor/ette, but these guys were a few bricks short of a housing project. granted bringing back crazy favs like these guys is good for ratings, but can you do that on a reality contest? and tracy gold? is that even safe for her to do? seriously, such a bad idea--as is the return of stonewall rashad.

posted by jessica at 03:00 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

do it for your country

i'll prattle on about my glamorous weekend in the D along with my usual sad-sack content in a bit, but this story must be told immediately. you need to know who exactly is representing 'our' country abroad:

Left LAX at 11pm on Friday, strategically checked the nwa website before leaving home to ensure I had a totally empty row as I am a genius. At the terminal, I notice a very cute guy checking me out and, as I am a total glutton for punishment, I smile back. No biggie, until he moves from his seat on the plane to sit next to me in my empty row (first mistake, now I'm pissed at this cute guy for ruining my chances of a stretched-out sleep). I'm high as a kite on several sleeping pills and painkillers and acting a bit slow and slurry, which probably came off as me being kittenish. Turns out he's a marine, fresh from Iraq, and I'm intrigued so natch I actually want to talk to him about his experience over there. His info is legit, I truly believe he's military. Then the conversation turns 20 questions-ish and his answer for everything has to do with sex: "What do you like to do for fun?" "Sex." "What kind of music do you like?" "Anything that's good to have sex to." "What was your hometown like?" "Sucked, all virgins, no one to have sex with." "You seem a little preoccupied with sex." "Hey, wanna go to the bathroom with me?" Well.

Clearly, I'm getting freaked out by this guy and quite woozy and half awake, trying to end this conversation, playing with my headphones quite obviously--but he's not getting the hint, so I get a glass of wine to make me pass out uncontrollably. Before I can even finish the cough-syrup libation, Corporal Rapist has leaned ACROSS the seat between us and is forcefully pulling my head to him for a pseudo-romantic airplane kiss! And he won't stop pulling me even though I'm whispering "nononono!" I'm too self-medicated to scream or call the stewardess (like anyone with half a brain would) and am actually worried about waking people up (it was like 1 or 4 am, depending on your time zone) so I just push this guy off of me and hiss vehemently. He tries again. And again, until he finally gets the hint. I wrap myself in the smelly airline blanket and put on headphones and he looks like he's gonna cry: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're just so beautiful..." (note: I hadn't showered in 3 days). I barely slept but pretended I did.

I was trying to read something about Iraq on the flight back last night, and I couldn't. I felt nauseous, remembering this creepy unnamed guy. If you see him, watch out.

posted by jessica at 09:29 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

November 14, 2003

l'chaim!

it's about time i had a hero to lust after (besides jon stewart) that even my papa sol would approve of: the hebrew hammer is in full effect and leaving me swooning. (linkage stolen from this entertaining fellow, who made his mom a blog! so cute!)

posted by jessica at 11:49 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

fridizzay

i'm not sure if i think this is cool or not, but radical cheerleaders are bringing high-kicks and split jumps to protest marches. does the essence of cheerleading, with its perch amongst the upper-eschelons of the high school hierarchy, defeat the sentiment of workers' rights and fair trade? can you be really, really, really ridiculously good looking and politically conscious? (well, I can, but can cheerleaders?) do kick pants help or hinder the cause? ponder, children, ponder.

liv tyler is officially my favorite actress for this reason alone: in a move that defies the existence of renee zellie, liv refuses to lose more weight to gain more roles. the fact that hollywood execs want her skinnier is nuts--she's already pretty damn thin for someone that tall. can you comprehend how this sick industry permeates the entire city? imagine living here and seeing alien-like wannabes all the time because that's your job. i'm bitter, yeah. whatever.

last night's britney interview with diane sawyer made me burst into tears. wait--not me, her. sometimes i mix myself up with brit. while watching, i wondered how many times one girl can use the word "sacred" in a conversation. seriously, everything to britney is "sacred." coinciding with the soft lighting and diane's pseudo-attack on brit's pseudo-cluelessness of her own sexy image ("i know one of us wasn't born yesterday!" chides Diane. "Well, I'm wearing clothes now," giggles Britney), britney takes her little sister to a tranny restaurant to celebrate a birthday. wouldn't you?

posted by jessica at 11:24 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 13, 2003

my hard-hitting review of strappleberry

i'll just admit it: i bought wrigley's newest concoction, juicy fruit strappleberry, because i had to. and frankly, i needed a pick-me-up before the o.c. it occured to me that perhaps some fruity gum, a la bubblicious, would make the evening perfect. as i reached for the neon pink package, however, i was sent reeling with acid flashbacks of a pinata chasing children at a birthday party. i knew i had to take a strappleberry risk or i'd be tripping all night. alas, strappleberry was not to be found with the other, less witty, gums. with my head hanging low, i began to shuffle out of 7-11--but wait! strappleberry is too nouveau, too haute for the official gum section! strappleberry must be placed at the registers for every man, woman & child to see! YES!

initially my passion was thrown off by the packaging, which resembled dentyne ice or eclipse, with its tinfoil compartmentalization. the pieces of gum themselves had that same hard, candied outside as these popular "tinfoil-package gums," which made for a disconcerting initial crunch when chewing. before i could protest the gum's inappropriate texture, i was quickly eased by the rush of fruitastic flavor and then--poof!--it was gone. in a matter of seconds, i was left with a half-candied piece of gum in my mouth. understand that i never expected long-lasting flavor--gums of these ilk never last long. but strappleberry had gathered its clothes and left before i had gotten to the bedroom. ah, a dubious lover indeed, strappleberry! and let it be noted, strappleberry is not a "big" piece of gum. bubbalicious and bubble yum pieces are at least 3 times the size of strappleberry; i don't think i'm alone in saying that when i chew sweet candy gum, i want a mouthful. strappleberry, however, must be quite embarassed in the locker room. i need a big, strong, sweet-for-the-long-haul gum and this just ain't it. adieu, strappleberry, adieu.

[Ed--I expect grapermelon to suck just as hard.]

posted by jessica at 06:12 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

woe is me

right now we're testing three lads at the network to replace someone on a highly-anticipated sitcom, which inconveniently begins taping next week or sometime absurdly soon. thus i am up to my elbows in phone-answering, agent-diffusing, and contract-editing. accordingly, blogging shall be sparse, waiflike, and malnourished until i can get my desk under control.

posted by jessica at 12:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

i'm bad at post titles.

when are people going to learn? if you're doing naughty stuff, don't do it on camera! as if paris' sexcapades weren't enough, now leo dicaprio is publicly freaking out about a camera he misplaced in shelter, la's nightclub du jour. he's offering $20,000 for its return, which clearly means there's a-something on that camera he doesn't want to be a-circulating. duhhh. if you click on the above link, you'll note that jeanette walls is keeping up with her rep for newfound suck by running paris as the number one item--oooh, her video is circulating. is that news? no. is it gossip? hell no!

(the hilton sisters, btw, are over. they've been washed up for a bit, but even talking about them now is so last week. along that thread, infrared night vision is totally out.)

the sony-bmg music merger is going to mean a lot of things for a lot of people, but will it ultimately affect uber-acts like JT? Trousersnake "fears for his freedom" when the merger goes down. Apparently he doesn't want to be schlepped back into the ranks of pop stars, because he's clearly a harder, r&b act. what? is that a sarcastic joke from JT's p.r. people?

j.lo and ben are planning their 2nd attempt at a wedding, this time in new york. and dammit, they're going to fight all the way to the altar, just like "real" couples. is this news anymore? i must say, the whole santa barbara debacle made me totally lose interest in whatever either of them do.

does britney have ANY right to get indignant when ABC producers ask her to disrobe for a photo shoot? c'mon now, brit, what do you expect? anyhoo, i'm sure all of you are shaking in your boots with anticipation of tonight's Primetime interview.i'm expecting to be once again wowed by her inarticulateness (is that a word?) and heavy eye-batting while she reveals absolutely nothing at all.

posted by jessica at 10:23 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 12, 2003

observations & unsolicited WB "buzz"

when i'm feeling not-so-fresh, i always find myself rereading my friendster testimonials until i feel fuzzy again. it's cheaper than prozac. this one is my favorite and always makes me smile:

"Following in the mold of Susan B. Anthony, Marilyn Monroe, Jaqueline Kennedy Onasis, Anna Wintour and Jasmine St. Claire, this world is blessed again with the one they call J-Co. A pint-sized bundle of dynamite waiting to explode all over the surface of this earth. A predator of culture and wisdom who ravages the finest novels and absurd tabloids in the same moment. To allow her to enter your life will bring great enjoyment and immense risk to you. Brace yourself and seek shelter."

some of the most flattering remarks ever made about yours truly have to happen over the net--sup with that? does that make me unflatterable in the flesh? or am i just so stunning that the truly great commentaries can't even be said to my face because i'm that intimidating? and in that vein, why is it that we reserve some of our most heartfelt comments for writing? granted there is a permanency to the written word, but do scrawled praises evoke the same glow that tete-a-tete compliments do? can't the memory of a kind word be relived to the same happy effect as reading and rereading kind words in writing? just thinking out loud, not fishing so don't bother. discuss amongst yourselves.

meanwhile, duke alumnus megan lynn is nattering in a witty manner about the WB's relationship with Duke (i'm too lazy to hook up the linkage, but you'll survive):

Should I be proud or ashamed? Last night, on a very special One Tree Hill, punk-bitch Peyton got drugged and almost raped (oh swoon, her savior Chad Michael Murray shows up and kicks some ass just in time) at a college party. And what college do these young sassy North Carolinians go to when they want to cut a rug and be taken advantage of? My alma mater, Duke. I'm terribly conflicted. On one hand, here are two of my favorite things together in one ka-razy episode. But on the other hand, why does the WB have to dis the Blue Devils like that? First, Dawson's Creek shoots at Duke and has the nerve to call it some fictional college, Worthington. Now we must see our students portrayed as drunken sexual criminals? We're not lushes, we're nerds, get it straight. A more accurate portrayal would have been if Peyton had been merely bored into a comatose state by this sly co-ed. Then, he would have freaked out and run out of the room. That's the Duke I know and love.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that a brief shot of "Yale" on the Gilmore Girls last night was just some stock footage left over from Joey's Worthington days of the Duke Chapel. I'm on to you WB!

Finally, a side note for those who don't know, the Tree Hill has gotten an order for the back nine, meaning I'm stuck all season. And I think that the WB's Jordan Levin owes me a little thank you note (or at least a thank you staff writer position on the show) for this development. Mr. Levin on One Tree Hill: "It's...a show that is generating that elusive thing called 'buzz,' and we believe it has a chance to become one of the most significant series on our schedule for many years to come."

Buzz? Who's buzzing besides me? I'm telling you, single-handed buzz creator here. Attention must be paid! (alright, no Shakespeare this week, but "Death of a Salesman" will do).

posted by jessica at 12:24 PM | Comments (5) | TrackBack

pump up the spousal abuse

remember when christian slater was gleaming the cube and running around la w/ alabama? those were the days. now he's just getting his ass kicked by wifey ryan haddon. while spousal abuse is no laughing matter, slater's 20 stiches certainly are cause for snide giggles.

rather than tell you what i truly enjoyed about the paris video (file sharing rules for this reason alone), i'll just quote lloyd grove in regards to the "money shots:"

-The very naked Paris' cell phone rings and she clambers off the bed to answer it. "F--- your phone!" Salomon bellows.
-Apparently watching herself on a monitor, Paris pushes Salomon out of camera range. "Who can you see?" Salomon asks. "Meeeeeeee!" Paris answers and tosses her head - clearly thrilled with her directorial debut.

somehow, they managed to cut a major bad guy from LotR. is samuran? saruman? samurai? who the eff knows. but even i recognized him, so he's gotta be kinda pivotal.

while everyone else is falling to their knees in anticipation of oasis' return to the studio next year, i'm busy giggling about this snippet of libertines news. like the band but obviously they are poor, drunken asses. however, i do believe that a lead singer with an eyepatch is sorta haute couture.

here's an idea: let's alleviate the california fiscal crisis by racking up some more long-term debt! hooray!

posted by jessica at 10:52 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

November 11, 2003

scarred for life

i finally saw the video. the desert storm-style night vision was a particularly nice touch. get thee to a nunnery!

posted by jessica at 07:58 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

blogging is for nerds

mom thinks i write about trash (obvs!), but i know my dad likes my blog (hey, he's at least 560 of my daily hits). so while i may tread on the obscene, i ultimately watch what i say. in relation to that, this is just too funny.

so i acquired the new belle and sebastian this weekend (thanks to miss take-all-of-my-cds-and-discover-yourself) and i must say, it's perhaps the best i've heard from the gang. i stopped listening to b&s after my sophomore year of college, when i realized drinking away my depression was far more entertaining than locking myself in my room and listening to indie twee. now i'm a bit more balanced (or so i've heard), so i let belle and sebastian push themselves upon me. sweet tunes, cuddly lyrics. wholly enjoyable when served with a hot cup of cocoa beside a roaring fire. whilst lounging atop a bearskin rug, natch.

posted by jessica at 05:38 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

fie upon you, beastly machine!

i had a magnificent post all ready to go, but alas, my computer spit up on me. all is lost and my soul is crushed. what else is new.

i'm jazzercising in my seat for the Women Tell All ep of the bachie. thankfully we're moving to megan and solomonster's den of sin, where a tivo will allow us to watch both shows back to back.

word to my peeps that share the burden of office administration duties: has anyone else had such terrible experiences with staples corporate as i have?

posted by jessica at 05:18 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

churches are funny

go ahead, laugh all day.

posted by jessica at 12:28 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

another reason to move to london

radiohead will be taking over the BBC's 6 Music over xmas. they've got total access to the bbc archives and you know they're going to pick some crazy sounds to pump out over the airwaves. i almost admire their eclectic taste as much as their own music. didn't they have a radio aol station for awhile?

i was fortunate last night to see not one, but two stunning television events. the first was the new britney behind the music, which made me appreciate the old britney (so cute, so "oops!") and remember how much we actually adored her in college...that is, until she became our "slave" and suddenly i found her kinda gross. it was an emotional hour, to say the least. i had barely gathered my soul back together in time for average joe, which again made me want to cry for these poor guys. actually, scratch that--i just wanted to cry for dennis multiple times: when he confessed to being a 35 year-old virgin, when talked about being rejected from the airforce b/c of his hearing aid, when he scaled the side of the cliff, and finally, when he was cut. honestly, this guy was so sweet and seems to have been crapped on his whole life. also, looks like cocky zach is moving ahead in the game, despite his breath issues.

posted by jessica at 11:52 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

i work hard for the money

and i'm missing my quality time at the blueprint. business abounds--don't give up on me, gang.

sunday night was the clash of titans, made-for-tv-movie style. the battle was fierce, overly-dramatic and poorly-acted--and the results are in: little lizzie smart beat the pants off of political pawn lynch in the ratings, if only by a smidgen. the deciding factor was no doubt the televisions of the foxy household, which were most certainly tuned in to the adventures of "emmanuel" and his daughter "augustine." i'd like to think that the neilsens reflect a rejection of political propaganda served up as half-baked entertainment, but then i remember that neilsen homes are insane idiots (they must be, given their inability to support shows like my so-called life, andy richter, and the brilliant--and still airing, let's hope--arrested development) and that their viewing choices are more likely to be based on which blondie actress is hotter. natch, the underage one wins--pervs.

this just in from the blueprint's sick-and-wrong department: jacko wants to adopt more kids. isn't he broke? how can he afford this? and how can human rights organizations let this go unnoted?

everyone knows politicians are lame, but this might be so lame it's funny: general clark is featured in a rock the vote commercial with several college students debating the outkast breakup rumors. wtf? if this gets even one kid to vote, i'll be shocked. i think an old white military man can find a better way to appeal to the youth; this just reminds me of someone's dad trying to be cool and looking desperately uncool.

kfc begins an ad campaign marketing itself as "healthy." anyone with an iota of a brain has to know this is utterly ridiculous. if i can gain weight just from changing my morning coffee treats from skim to soy, you'd best believe that kfc is going to kill me. the slate has an amusing description of the newest commercial.

ganked from old hag: bunnicula is going to be a movie! bunnicula holds a special place in my heart--it was my bridge book, the one that carried me from babysitter's club to the more "adult" christopher pike.

posted by jessica at 11:09 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

November 10, 2003

uber-post

this morning has been madness--sheer madness! apparently, there are duties i am expected to perform and, given friday's rashy episode, quite a bit of paperwork has piled up on my perpetually-cluttered desk. alas, blogging has taken a backseat to the always-pressing issue of earning a living. go fig. not that any of you 'loyal readers' (should you actually exist) are starving for my babble, but i'd like to think that you are. call it conceit.

normally i try not to talk of the manly arts (sports), but last night's rams-ravens game cannot go unrecognized. i hate the nfl for various reasons and was only watching this game due to the 3 st. louisians sitting on my couch, but i was quickly drawn in by one ray lewis, nfl posterboy (acc'd to my roommates anyhow) who was wired with an espn microphone for the game. forget the color commentary by the whitebread announcers--ray lewis was jibber-jabbering ALL GAME. granted his verbal incontinence was a conscious result of being wired, but i could not believe his sideline pep talks: "i would DIE for this game!" and "we gots to play a 60 minute game! 60 minutes!" or, my personal favorite from the field, "get off of him! ugh! yo! argh! yeah!" he totally reminded me of that weird prison-style underwear commercial where they're chanting, "we must protect this houuuse!" lay off the coke and roids, mistah lewis, and maybe someone won't die the next time you're near them.

prince charles is still all caught up in this "unspecified scandal." i find the whole debacle, particularly what the media is and is not allowed to say, quite amusing. british courts have ruled that the uk news media may not print details of the allegations, but anyone with five minutes and google can get the info. just another gay sex scandal, whoopdeedo. i love how the royals dismiss the allegations as coming from a valet who suffered "post-traumatic stress disorder after his service in the falklands."

lloyd grove does a nice transcription of mtv's wealthy girls show (i won't use the name anymore, seeing as all of my google hits are in regards to miss H and miss G). but seriously, lloyd, that episode was like last week and we were all over that shizz already.

i spent a good portion of my weekend collecting the necessary fripperies for my dad's little soiree, and i've developed a highly-provable theory regarding ladies' formalwear and, in particular, appropriate dress for the young lady in her roaring twenties. it would seem that acquiring fineries with price tags of various degrees would be easy at an age such as mine. alas, alack, i learned otherwise this weekend. while there are plenty of gowns available at prices under $200, under $100, even under $70, they seem to be of a particular style no matter where one goes. my travels ran the gamut: bloomingdale's, nordstrom's and their separate "rack," macy's, robinsons may, even trampage--but everything in the lower price eschelons seemed to be either A) fitting for my first prom or B) fitting for my mum. style & class at a reasonable price seems to only exist for the under 20s or the over 35s. there is a whole 15 year window of clientele that is being underserved by the formalwear industry! i firmly believe this to be a conspiracy amongst the fashion world that forces one such as myself to spend reprehensible amounts for money for a single appropriate and stylish dress from one of the few designers who makes said dresses for that 20-35 crowd. i was set up, honestly. because i don't want to look really old or really young, i am a victim. and people, that's just wrong.

posted by jessica at 12:48 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 08, 2003

wait--you don't care what i did tonight?

at first, it seemed like a fab idea: come home sauced,]; wax prophetic on the injustices of the jack-in-the-box drive through; (3 am: 25 minutes in line: 3 chicken sandwiches of asst'd types, 3 med. fries, 2 cokes, 2 tacos, half my damn paycheck), be witty, go to bed. actually, what i failed to take into consideration was the difficulty of doing just about anything at this hour and in this condition. oy. i could tell you about the private karaoke room where we ended up after the bar cloosed (a la 'lost in translation'), but in the interest of time, just know that i sing a wicked "like a virgin." and yes, the hives have subsided, although clothes in general seem to irritate my skin. i think i'm developing some of naked-rashy lifestyle that may be quite marketable to the genY crowd next week. have your people call my nonexistent people.

posted by jessica at 03:53 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

November 07, 2003

happy or sad?

happy: i left work early today.
sad: i'm covered in hives.

posted by jessica at 04:14 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

ohmigod i STILL can't decide

or is peabs the cutest? per old hag, how could i forget this prada-stealing pimp? i feel like trista...

posted by jessica at 12:53 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

ohmigod i can't decide!

so, like, who's cuter? grambo or the gorilla? the gorilla is hott right now (metrosexually speaking) but grambo is the original. i gotta figure out who's gonna pick me up from my parents' place and buy me drinks for these next few trips back to the d. gots to be seen with the right people, you know. detroit is very superficial like that--much more so than la. or, given recent debate, are they gay? after all, royal oak is a very liberal town. hott cheerleaders, please advise.

meanwhile, moby is hard, sexy, & straightforward. i had no idea.

posted by jessica at 12:11 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

at least she knows they used her

poor jessica lynch (i don't mean that sarcastically) is well aware that the gov't made her into a propaganda tool. and she doesn't like it, either. but she's still cashing in. hmm.

was paris hilton high as a kite during her porn video? peeps are looking to excuse her behavior and label rick soloman as a rapist, but i'm betting paris made her own bed on this one (pun totally intended, yo). as if bumping 75 lines of horse makes you innocent as all hell.

sup with outkast? the guardian notes that andre 3000 continually speaks of the duo in the past tense. interesting--perhaps the separate discs are a sign of what's to come?

i'm very serious about california becoming hell on earth. now things are just crashing into each other.

when i come home buzzing, i usually do dumb stuff like clean my room or fall asleep in my bed with granola everywhere. but blogging is way more productive. i'll have to investigate this for myself, no doubt.

last year, i saw the matrix reloaded for its very first public la showing, which was the standard midnight showing. i was exhausted from work but determined to see the ridiculously-anticipated sequel. after that throbbing-techno-lovemaking-cave scene, however, i let myself fall asleep. thus my interest in this series is lost and i didn't even realize the final installment was opening on wednesday until the day before. this seems okay, though, as the reviews have been less than glorious. cnn goes so far as to call the movie soulless. can a movie about mechanical world domination have soul in the first place?

posted by jessica at 11:28 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 06, 2003

jimmy cooper can't make french toast

but television without pity can write a great quickie recap in case you missed last night's ep of the o.c.

posted by jessica at 05:44 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

linkage, etc.

heather havrilesky does a great run-down of rich girls (yeah, i know it was on two nights ago, but still). she also gripes about 8 simple rules, but whatev. depressing sitcoms? quelle horror. yawn.

the la times bans its writers from using the term "resistance" to describe the anti-american violence in iraq. rather, writers are encouraged to describe iraqi resisters (oops, i said the magic word) as "guerillas" or "insurgents." sweet, i was hoping mainstream media would take a slant to make the u.s. look good. those ungrateful iraqis should be glad we came in and ripped apart their struggling existence, right guys? pshaw.

more debate as to why les moonves pulled the reagan drama from cbs. after all this chatter, he might as well air the damn thing on cbs and reap some fab ratings, as it surely will. timothy noah at slate has a great commentary on this whole debacle.

does anyone know if kazaa lite users are being watched in the same manner as kazaa, morpheus, & grokster people? or am i flying under the radar here?

i have a friendster request from someone i don't seem to know. if it's one of you, please say so and i won't get freaked out.

audio lunchbox & napster solicit the indie labels for their online stores. it's a start, right? or are all the hipsters going to get their trendy shoelaces in a knot over this? hipsters, let me know.

for all of my readers who are from belarus, there's a hot job offer out there for ya.

posted by jessica at 05:07 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

we will all be stricken with cancer

or so says the lovely rosie o'donnell (remember when she was, like, america's sweetheart?). an employee (and breast-cancer surviver) of o'donnell's testified yesterday that rosie said to her, "Do you know what happens to people who lie? They get sick and they get cancer." no word from scientists as to whether or not little white cancers are a possible outcome from rosie's prophecy.

posh spice: will she stay with pop music or go hip-hop? do we give a shit? seriously, the sun has had something about this issue every other day. i love british gossip (the SNL parody, Spyglass, is dead-on even if it's not particularly funny), but i don't understand what they choose to scrutinize. i'd much rather see pictures of posh spice changing diapers than debate her musical career choices.

cheers to gawker for declaring itself "over." come to think of it, blogging is totally "over" en generale. the signs are all there: bloggers become "professional," various publications give coverage, and now our incessant ramblings are sparking pseudo-intellectual criticism from nattering old ladies. think about it: if blogging is going down in the city of angels, you might as well liken the increase in popularity to the third horseman of the apocalypse. any thoughts? and so what if bloggers writing about blogging is cheap and self-centered? i think it's meta.

last night's impromptu o.c. gathering, complete with Megan Lynn, the Solomonster, Btown and Blamers, was a rousing success (except for the part where megan sat in rufus's pee--how does dog de-pottytrain itself? any advice would be appreciated). i need a tivo, however, if i truly want to enjoy trading barbs and snarky analysis while catching the "plot's" every minutae. furthermore, cutting to the bachelor during commercial breaks isn't good enough. plus i'm missing tons of other shows based on my own personal life (which i am determined to maintain, dammit--i've gotta leave the apt sometime, yknow). how nice would it be to watch SNL on sunday morning? my vcr is broken and it's not worth it to buy another, so i definitely am heading in the tivo direction. here's the problem: i'm uber-poor.

sooo, consider this an official announcement/cry for help. i am beginning a fundraiser for a tivo and, should the response be overwhelming, all extra proceeds will go to paying off my irritating credit card debt. if needed, i can provide a well-thought out list of reasons why i need a tivo and why you should help.

posted by jessica at 10:27 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 05, 2003

someone does watch the WB

and her name is Megan Lynn. Yes, the saucy, hotpants-wearing thang that brought you the stunning expose of Camp Jim is back with another unsolicited review of epic proportions--complete with Shakespearean prose to scare off the illiterates. She's got me thinking that One Tree Hill is worth my time, if only for comic irony. And hey, she watches and writes about the shows no one else will--and we like that about her!

One Tree Hill- A Shakespearean Tragedy of WB Proportions

Ah, the bastard son. A tragic character indeed. I mean, he's constantly shamed, has little social prospects, he can't inherit land...it's enough to make a brother soliloquize (new verb man, use it):

Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law
My services are bound. Wherefore should I
Stand in the plague of custom, and permit
The curiosity of nations to deprive me,
For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines
Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base?
When my dimensions are as well compact,
My mind as generous, and my shape as true,
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us
With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base?
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take
More composition and fierce quality
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed,
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops,
Got 'tween asleep and wake? Well, then,
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land:
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund
As to the legitimate: fine word,--legitimate!
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed,
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper:
Now, gods, stand up for bastards!

Touching, isn't it? Of course, this trouble, this whole bastardy goodness, kind of went the way of the corset. Or the Edsel. Or the slap bracelet. I mean, we don't really care any more, do we? Single moms/dads/babies having babies...is it really cause for concern? Well, at a little studio that I like to call the WB, it's cause for a series.

One Tree Hill comes from the makers of Smallville, and if you thought that the Kent's Kansas wisdom was square, you've got to catch this. It's like the 50's. Only less sensical. Lucas Scott and his mother Karen live in Tree Hill, North Cack (raise up y'all). They live modestly on Karen's coffee shop income, Lucas reads Gatsby and plays street basketball.. all in all, it's a happy life on the wrong side of the tracks. Lucas' half-brother Nathan Scott and his parents ALSO live in Tree Hill. Difference is, they're the rich town darlings. Son Nathan is the star of the basketball team, dates the hottest, most troubled cheerleader around (MTV VJ Hillary Burton, quite possibly the worst actor in primetime), and oh yeah, he's legitimate, sucka. The icky family situation (which apparently, has been easily avoided for 16 years even in this small town) comes to the forefront when Lucas is recruited to join the basketball team. Suddenly he and Nathan are battling for playing time, as well as time with the lovely Peyton, the aforementioned angsty cheerleader (Calling Camp Jim! She needs help!)

Never mind that Daddy Scott apparently had to impregnate his high school sweetheart, ditch her, and then within months impregnate another woman, and marry her, for these two to be peers. Never mind that apparently, the fact that this happened is grounds for various townsfolk to not just shun, but outwardly shame Lucas and Karen on a regular basis. Let's also ignore that the whole town revolves around the basketball team (coached by a guy named, no shit, Whitey Durham), essentially reducing the show to a one-hour poorly executed version of Varsity Blues, minus the unmitigated joy of a Van der Beek southern accent ("I don't want, your life!"). You're also going to have to gloss over the inexplicable evil that is Daddy Scott- a man so obsessed with reliving his old basketball glory days through the legitimate Nathan that he does everything short of physically spitting on Lucas and Karen. And finally, you must understand that there is no such thing as subtext in Tree Hill. You always say (or in Peyton's case, draw ludicrous comics about) exactly how you feel. The emotions on this show are expressed as openly and unrealistically as the various short stories I took to writing in the fifth grade (usually they involved a tragic orphan who is adopted, gets cool clothes, and finds a super-awesome boyfriend, if you're interested).

So, have you forgotten everything you just read as asked? Good. I am here to tell you that One Tree Hill is the most addictive, fabulous piece of steaming crap on television today. I pray to god that it gets cancelled, because then, and only then, will I be able to stop watching it. The simplicity! The outright insane simplicity is so enjoyably appalling. And the absolutely unanswerable questions about the Scott family's contrived past...it's just freeing to know that this thing doesn't have to ever make any sense. And Hillary Burton, good god. I don't think I can qualify this statement any further than...good god.

Please, take in one episode of this show, if anything for the amazing MST3K opportunities it presents (not since "Manos, the Hands of Fate" has anything been so ripe for mockery). And then, stop watching it, stop thinking about it, try not even to mention the words one, tree, or hill in daily conversation. Perhaps then the WB will can it, and free me of this cursed affliction.

posted by jessica at 05:03 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

brill

a brief version of the end of the world. (totally ganked from stereogum...can we bring "gank" back, btw?)

posted by jessica at 11:52 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

three weeks past her expiration date

aside from paris hilton going for the porn, her rumored arrogance is simply fascinating: after wiping her lipstick on a towel, she handed it to a bystander and said it was worth keeping, as it might be worth a fortune one day. spare me, paris. you're yesterday's garbage, darling! you've surfed the pseudo-celebrity wave till the last second and it's left you washed up and gurgling on the polluted shores.

i was at the chiro this morning, and another patient informed me she was jobless now that fox's skin is cancelled after just three episodes. i'd care, but i never watched the show. apparently no one else did either.

christina aguilera bans pink from her london shindig. i would love to see these two go at it, claws and all. battle of the skanks--total ppv material. on that same link is a nice little bit about halle berry's terrible gas. is farting technically dish? because if so, my roommates are totally page 6 material.

unfortunately, there's no pic to go with this tidbit: a london art gallery is set to feature sculptures made of tampons. slowly but surely, menstration becomes all the more tangible for cringing males everywhere.

posted by jessica at 11:47 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 04, 2003

dumbstruck.

i can't even comment on this episode of rich girls. graduation parties, tommy hilfiger dancing, girls drinking and crying, vacations at the tropical estate. too much. unbearable, actually. i feel so bad for these girls, exposing their 18-year-old idiocy on mtv. yes, i was a much less wealthy version of them at one point in my life, so i can empathize. but i choose not to. and then there's the whole issue of them getting wasted and running around mustique in bikinis. grambo, this one's all you.

posted by jessica at 11:09 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack

my hard-hitting review of average joe

alright guys, i said i'd do this about 12 hours ago, but today has been quite hectic. apparently i have responsibilities here other than snarky blogging. who knew.

writing about average joe, in all honesty, is something i wanted to avoid. my friendly acquaintance brad (at left), after all, is shaping up to be a central figure on the show. i have half the mind to just link to lindsayism's rundown of last nite's show, but that would be cowardly of me. so in the past hour, i've snuck six shots of cuervo and now i'm ready to write for about 5 minutes before it's time to head home.

oh, nbc, why did you do this? was fear factor just not humiliating enough for you? the premise is great (you know, does the inside really count?) but staging a show to test this comes out like a cruel science experiment. we're subjected to endless shots of melena running on the beach in bathing suits, interspersed with the guys doing "dorky" things around their house, like hula hooping, tripping over luggage, and binge drinking (some of them, perhaps, for the very first time). hottie on the beach, nerdy guys. hottie at the pool, nerdy guys. hottie gazing into the mountains, nerdy guys.

the show natch fails to note that these men did not know they were going to be on a relationship show--nevermind a relationship show that sets a sweet but unwitting beauty queen up with 16 incredibly "average" guys that would normally stand little chance with a gal of such ilk. as soon as i saw these guys talk about how they didn't go to prom, or didn't date much, or how spending just one night partying in the bachelor pad was like getting the frat experience they never had, i about burst into tears. they were self-deprecating but so cheerful about being grouped into what one contestant called "the revenge of the nerds reunion." i wanted to grab them and hug them and get them the hell out of there. no one deserves this.

but instead, i just watched in awe as a pecking order amongst these guys quickly emerged: zach is a dork but marc is a bigger dork, therefore zach can crush an egg on marc's skull. obvs! when melena enters the picture, suddenly all of these guys become cassanovas. it seemed as if several men were actually trying to be more dorky, as if accepting their classification and superceding it is the route to success. and sadly, melena must eliminate them episode by episode in a predictable pattern that leaves us thirsting for...um...stuff.

overall, this show seems veryveryveryveryvery staged--and oh yeah, IT IS! maybe i'm the only one who caught this, but the very last closing card at the end of the show read in ridiculously tiny print, "show has been edited. producers may have consulted with contestants to alter outcomes." when a show actually admits this element, you know it's just going to get worse.

posted by jessica at 05:54 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

pass the prozac

i am the worst blogger ever. seriously. why do you read me? who the hell are these "600-hits-a-day" ghosts that typepad claims to be swinging by? see, guys, i've made some mistakes. yes, it's natch given the lack of editor and my often preteen-esque ramblings about this and that, but i've got to come clean. i'm the antithesis of catholic, but here's my confessional nonetheless:

re: my review of room on fire. turns out that the free, not-yet-released cd that greg gave me was completely out of order. i figured this out when i guiltily gave my $$ to the riaa and bought a copy at best buy. so when i said i liked this song or that song, it turned out that i liked some other song. shame on me.

re: the dim mak sampler mentioned yesterday. not the thrills on there, but the kills. simple mistake? maybe, but give me a lashing anyway.

re: neil strauss' interview w/ the strokes, which i linked to in the guardian--yeah, that's the rolling stone interview. which you already knew but were kind enough not to embarass me. chastise me, dammit.

i'm not fishing for reassurance here, but you must know that i am a dilettante extrordinaire, wandering in the fools' paradise that is blogsville. i am nothing, dead on the inside. limp like wet laundry on a badly distorted coathanger.

(note: my interview w/ julian is real and accurate, for the record. i'm not that lame.)

posted by jessica at 10:35 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack

i'm going hungry

announced in their press conference while wearing silver superhero costumes: Tenacious D is going on a 45-day hunger strike. these guys are brilliant. they'll end the strike if 1. their dvd goes platinum; 2. hunger is solved; or 3. there's peace in the middle east. my bank account might be overdrawn by $3 (send money, please), but i'll acquire this dvd by whatever means necessary.

speaking of strikes, i noticed yet another labor uprising today, although this one is more amusing: i drove by a ritzy condo complex with a valets and whatnot, except today there was a large sign saying "LOT FULL"; in much smaller print beneath, it read "of exploitation!" no need to get witty, guys, just tell me what's going on and i'll park my car myself.

god forbid the media show a slightly leftist slant. due to the rabid protesting of middle aged white men with no brains, cbs has pulled its reagan miniseries and sold it to showtime, where it can be shown in the wee hours amidst softcore offerings.

i swear to god, jeanette walls must have only one informant and he/she must be working at the kabbalah centre. every day it's something about madonna and kabbalah. we know she's into it, okay? we know she likes to get her celeb friends into it, don't we? who gives a shizz if she talks to missy elliot about it?

jamie lee gleicher, aka ally hilfiger's equally obnoxious cohort on rich girls, was quite upset with her portrayal on the show's first episode. honey, it's not a portrayal--it's how you actually sound. word to the wise: don't discuss losing your virginity on prom night and then fail to seal the deal. just a tip. poor, self-humiliating thing.

stay tuned for my hard-hitting review of average joe.

posted by jessica at 09:50 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

November 03, 2003

shouldn't i be working?

made a brief dash into amoeba this weekend to sell back that hideous stellastar album, but the trade-in counter was closed. obviously, i had to make this trip worth my time, so i picked up the shins' new release, chutes too narrow, and the dim mak 2003 sampler. chutes too narrow is a darling album thus far--jangly and melodic, witty lyrics and a sound akin to belle and sebastian flavored with mrs. dash. way to go, boys. i haven't gotten thru dim mak yet, but the von bondies and the thrills on there, so it promises to be eclectic yumminess. i've finally gotten thru multiple listenings of both albums from the rapture, courtesy of r. layng karvola, and i must say that i want to marry this band.

like you didn't see this one coming: nbc has halted further production of coupling. there's something ironic about nbc unsuccessfully ripping off a british rip off of friends in order to find a suitable replacement for friends. in the meantime, the original coupling is still on bbc america on thursday nights and is far more amusing than the american version. british humor is best conveyed with a british accent, after all.

acc'd to la weekly, 5 different writers turned down the la times tv critic gig. while the kausfiles theorizes this being a result of the la times being a bit too leftist, nikki finke suggests that writers declined the position b/c it would involve a move to los angeles. and who the hell would ever want to do something like that? surely not entertainment writers looking for a position in the top of their field, oh nooo.

caught the tail end of SNL and wow, kelly ripa is just not funny. apparently the effects of working with regis philbin are irreversible.

and finally (yes, this post will indeed end), ny metro has some profiles of bigtime bloggers, including choire, elizabeth, and maud (your own foxy j did not make the list, but you've only known me for three weeks--just wait, baby, wait). and you know how we loooove seeing pictures of other bloggers! pre-profiles, there's an analysis of the "gawker effect" and some praises of ms spiers.

posted by jessica at 02:38 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack

go blue, yo!

i've always wanted to have my own celebrity feud, if only so i could throw sly verbal jabs at my enemies during a softly-lit barbara walters interview. while i work on developing this, the ny daily news has a detailed and informative rundown of the major tiffs going down in hollywood. they even give coverage to the old-school sammy hagar vs. david lee roth showdown, which could totally use a new chapter.

just in time for the holidays, pornography gets political: in the vein of forrest hump and the osporns, kickass video will be filming a porn based on arnold's election race. natch, mary carey will play herself. the impossibly handsome ron jeremy will play spooge cruztamente and some other guy i've never heard of (which is a good thing, thank you very much) will be "performing" as ernie gropenegger. the producer is quoted as saying, "it's kind of like satirical." no word yet on whether maria shriver will make a guest appearance.

i was half watching dateline last night, and they actually devoted the last 10 minutes to a preview of their britney special, britney unzipped (set your tivo, it's 11/9 at 7pm). The logline(s):

Dateline NBC follows Britney spears from her days as a Mouseketeer to New York CityíŸÙs late night scene, where our cameras captured footage of the pop princess giving what may be her wildest, rawest, sweatiest performance yet. How far will Britney go to keep herself in the spotlight? Correspondent Hoda Kotb goes in search of the answer.

"rawest & sweatiest?" did they actually use that phrase? could their ad strategy be any more targeted to prepubescent boys and lonely old men? i also caught a peek of chuck klosterman (who has plenty to say about brit) for the first time, and i can confirm that i will not be pursuing a relationship with him. i'm not being nasty, i am just saying that there were no sparks.

posted by jessica at 10:44 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

November 02, 2003

hallowha?

it rains in la maybe 5 nights a year. why, god, why did one of those nights have to be halloween? this is my second year in la and i missed the infamous west hollywood carnival last year (due to my debilitating bought with ghetto-teacher depression), so natch i was quite atwitter with the idea of flitting about in costume. we were totally decked out in our jack and meg homage and our seven nation army of friends arrived for some pregaming. it drizzled during our festivities at the apartment, but i wasn't giving up on the idea of public intoxication with 250,000 costumed freaks. the gang was jonesing and we were getting sauced--rain be damned! we're going to weho!

um, yeah, not so much. we made it across town with 7 people packed in my poor little car and parked as close to our destination bar as possible, as every freaking street was blocked off for the nonexistent parade. after getting drenched within seconds, we ducked into the first bar we could find and, given the location, it was not surprising that we ended up in a well-known "ladies' establishment" (not that there's anything wrong with that). the beer was stale and the shots were buttery (seriously buttery and i don't know why). on the bright side: since we weren't in our typical sort of establishment, we were the only white stripes duo (i had feared otherwise, given kevin & bean's suggestion of jack and meg as a last minute getup--last minute?! we planned this for maximum accuracy).

posted by jessica at 09:13 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack