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May 28, 2004
Subtle like a sledgehammer
Great moments in online entertainment "journalism" #413:
LA.com runs a lesbian club review featuring the sub-headline, "Lez Dance."
posted by jessica at 12:02 PM | Comments (0)
May 27, 2004
Short notes
Tour dates for The Streets (some with Dizzee Rascal) are up. Just scroll past the annoying Pitchfork intro in which the DB writer adopts a faux British street-rap accent. I can't make any of the shows, seeing as they coincide with either Vegas or my cross-country jaunt, so go for me and tell me how incomprehensible Dizzee was.
Hey, Libertines, figure your shit out. Pete Doherty hints that his time with the band is done, Glamorama contemplates suicide.
posted by jessica at 12:11 PM | Comments (0)
Gossip columnists fight after school, possibly at the bike racks
Page Six's stock drops 10 points every time they take a stab at the NY Daily News. This time, the Post claims that NYDN has erroneously "reported" something boring about Bill Clinton getting his portrait painted and blah blah blah. In an attempt to perhaps fight back, Lloyd Grove "reports" that the Post's resident wrinkle bag, Liz Smith, is, um, a wrinkly old bag. Or something. Enough already, I want my gossip columns to focus on underage sex and illegal drugs! Come on, the stories are out there, get to work!
Completely unrelated:
Will someone puh-lease buy me a pimp cup? I really love the "Beg For Mercy" style.
posted by jessica at 11:25 AM | Comments (2)
Steve Kmetko always has the last laugh
The LA Times discusses the fact that E! CEO Mindy Herman is, as they say, a raging bitch.
"[An] anonymous letter also discussed an E! party for the premiere of the channel's "The Anna Nicole Show" at a Hollywood burlesque club, 40 Deuce. According to multiple witnesses interviewed by The Times, Herman became engaged in 'hand-to-hand combat' in the parking lot with another woman."
Around my neck o' the woods, we all know that Mindy Herman is a frightening she-devil. This article (registration req'd) is remarkably kind.
posted by jessica at 10:30 AM | Comments (0)
May 26, 2004
It will also give you hairy palms, make you go blind, etc.
NYT points out that blogging is pointless, except for its contribution to the art of self-pleasure:
"You can have instant gratification..."
And, just like masturbation, most people don't even know you're doing it:
"Indeed, if a blog is likened to a conversation between a writer and readers, bloggers like Mr. Wiggins are having conversations largely with themselves."
Of course, you eventually get bored with fondling yourself:
"For many bloggers, the novelty soon wears off and their persistence fades."
posted by jessica at 05:12 PM | Comments (3)
Take note, NYT Corrections
Low Culture issues a heartfelt exploration of how and why they and we were blindsided by Julian Casablancas' engagement to Juliet Joslin. This, of course, had me thinking: we are gossips, people, where did we go wrong? I suggest we all take a moment to shamefully reflect on the wrong turns we made in missing this story. The Blueprint is disappointed in all of us.
posted by jessica at 12:35 PM | Comments (0)
The gauntlet has been thrown
Rapper and softcore pornographer Ice-T raises the bar for all of us:
"All of us are hos in one way or another, but very few will ever get the chance to truly pimp."
The above truism is from one of Ice's classic films, Ice-T's Pimpin 101, in which Ice explains the art of pimping while simultaneously dissecting the hierarchy of ho's (hoes? hos?). While we haven't been so fortunate to see this cinematic masterpiece, you can catch the man himself on Law and Order: SVU. Suffice to say, NBC isn't commenting too much on their actor's past, but we're hoping for Pimpin 102 With Special Guest Jeff Zucker.
posted by jessica at 10:28 AM | Comments (2)
Advertisers love golden showers
Like it or not, it's safe to assume that reality television isn't going anywhere. The best we can hope for is a low tide after this coming fall season. Nevertheless, THANK GOD for the European influence on our reality programming! The UK's version of Big Brother is upping the ante with bathrooms that feature glass doors! Imagine the satisfaction viewers will feel while watching the house villain deal with a painful bowel movement, or the pleasure pervs will get from watching the hot girl pee. You know which American network is going to gleefully jump all over this idea.
posted by jessica at 10:11 AM | Comments (0)
In an election year, these are the things that truly matter, people.
Recent developments in the great Lohan debate merit close discussion. Clearly, Instant Messenger exists for pressing issues such as these:
jessicann226 hey, i need help real quick bunsendottv ? jessicann226 what's that site with the closeups of lohan's scar tissue? bunsendottv liquid something jessicann226 ah, spanks bunsendottv you find it? jessicann226 si jessicann226 that scar tissue has me sold jessicann226 fakies bunsendottv those pics prove zip bunsendottv wouldn't the scar be underneath? bunsendottv not only that, it looks like shadow jessicann226 it looks pretty scarred to me jessicann226 like actual disfigured skin right where the incision would be jessicann226 it could be a stretch mark, but it seems a little coincidental bunsendottv you are so gullible bunsendottv those pics BE WEAK jessicann226 gullible? no. smart on the nuances of fake boobs? indeed! bunsendottv the incision would be underneath! bunsendottv what kind of horse doctor would cut on the side, right in the cleavage? jessicann226 it IS underneath jessicann226 her boobs are pulled to the side jessicann226 thus making it look as if the incision is to the side bunsendottv it's not underneath, it's off to the side bunsendottv the little red circle is clearly on the side jessicann226 no, it's underneath. the breasts are pulled outwards bunsendottv your definition of "underneath" is awfully liberal bunsendottv her tits would have to be tucked behind her ears for you to see underneath jessicann226 i disagree. go grab your gf and look: when her breasts are pulled outwards to the sides at such an extreme angle, the underneath skin goes inward bunsendottv it doesn't go out that far bunsendottv you're blinded by your crusade jessicann226 i think, for their size, those breasts are pulled pretty far. bunsendottv i think they're not pulled very much at all, it's the side angle you're seeing
posted by jessica at 09:23 AM | Comments (8)
May 25, 2004
Bring out the gimp
The Weinsteins clearly have unleashed their favorite boy-toy, Roger Friedman, on 20th's upcoming disaster flick, The Day After Tomorrow. Really, why bother veiling your bias when you have choice gems such as these to fill you "column?" So it was written, and so it was done:
"A publicist for Fox who bragged about my expulsion later to paparazzi actually said to me, 'It sounds like you're going to blackmail us. If you don't get into the party, you'll say the movie was bad.' Ah, well: No amount of edible swag could save The Day After Tomorrow, a $200 million disaster film that is quite the disaster, indeed."
posted by jessica at 12:41 PM | Comments (0)
Be the best media whore you can be
Maybe we all need to be a bit more discerning about where we accept jobs. Despite the struggling economy and the concrete jungle of a job market, you shouldn't just take employment anywhere. You must, after all, make sure you are working for a cool media company with a nice cafeteria. MediaWeek UK explores the possibilities of employment amongst the hip within fabulous offices, including that obvious tower of anorexia in Times Square.
posted by jessica at 11:21 AM | Comments (2)
Sweet Jesusmaryandjoseph
Krucoff interviews a dog, resulting in a conversation which presumably took place in his head. First "server issues" during his Gawker stint, and now this. Way to go, dude.
posted by jessica at 09:41 AM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2004
Music. Makes the people. Come together. Yeah.
On Friday we saw Death Cab for Cutie at the Wiltern. Unfortunately, a prior commitment in BFE (er, Malibu) led to a late arrival, so we missed +/- and the first 10 minutes of Ben Gibbard's earnest bouncing. Nevertheless, we got there in time to listen to a heartfelt performance and watch scores of emo teens make out. A lush and lovely show, but I doubt I'd see them again, at least not on a Friday--love the boys as I may, they ultimately made me want to curl up in the fetal position and sob about my lost childhood. Damn talented lyricists, those kids.
Update on Keane, whose sold out Troubadour show had a few of you lamenting: They're doing an in-store at Hear Music on the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica this Friday (5/28) at 6:30. Go, listen, and sip a latte.
posted by jessica at 11:47 AM | Comments (3)
It could've been worse
In the aftermath of last week's up fronts, during which the networks announced their tired and uninspired fall schedules, people have been shaking their heads and lamenting the slow demise of television as we've known it. If you think the current and future programming is bad, however, check out this rundown of the shit that didn't even make it to up fronts--there are dumpsters full of failed pilots out there, waiting to burn in hell. Amongst this illustrious group is the ill-fated Jessica Simpson sitcom. We had a chance to check this baby out, in which she plays a bimbo/entertainment reporter named Jessica Sampson. Creative! The "plot" (and we use that term as loosely as humanly possible) revolved around her ditzy bloopers and contained no less than 10 jokes about her ample bosom. It's a damn shame that the general public will never see this gem, but additional episodes of the atrocious Nick and Jessica Variety Hour have been ordered, which will serve as an adequate substitute forum for boob jokes.
posted by jessica at 10:48 AM | Comments (1)
Olsenspotting
Sometimes, you just have to roll out of bed at 2 in the afternoon and walk over to the Santa Monica Fred Segal to lovingly admire things you can't afford. And sometimes, you'll see Ashley Olsen in the Couture boutique, paying with plastic. The big, disaffected look on her face contrasted nicely with her miniature size. Her lady-in-waiting--er, friend--did a nice job of staring down everyone in the store, lest a soul dare cast starstruck eyes in their direction. Don't worry, sweetie, not even I cared enough to pull out the cameraphone after that dismal box office bomb.
posted by jessica at 07:46 AM | Comments (0)
May 21, 2004
Like Coldplay but hate Apple?
I know, it's not cool to turn on a solid band just because their lead singer has gone and named his child something really silly. Well, then, let's say I'm feeling over-Coldplayed as they're a bit omnipresent (not that they don't deserve it, mind you--I've always been a fan when I'm looking for the mellow stuff). So, like me, you might be looking for a comparable sound from some new talent. Might I suggest Keane? They're playing at the Troubadour on June 4. You can listen to their entire album here.
This concludes your Friday PSA.
posted by jessica at 04:05 PM | Comments (5)
Beating a dead horse
Can a cyclical, year-round launching of new shows save network television? Nah. But in the wake of this week's up fronts in NYC, it would seem that the suits are hoping so. ABC, NBC and Fox have schedules heavy on rotating in shows throughout the year, forgoing reruns in pursuit of constant fresh content. Will it work? Maybe, but I doubt this sort of scheduling move will make a bit of difference if scripted comedies continue to utterly suck.
Speaking of utterly sucking, this headline should be bludgeoned out of existence:
A German Violin Virtuoso With a Casual Attitude Toward the Violin
posted by jessica at 11:07 AM | Comments (0)
In between licks of his Jello Pudding Pop
The venerable Dr. Bill Cosby creates a stir at a recent NAACP gala by commenting on African-Americans who are not as successful as, say, the Huxtables:
posted by jessica at 10:50 AM | Comments (1)
Ben Wallace is my boyfriend
While I tend to avoid sports talk, I have to do a giddy little victory dance for my old friends, The Pistons. In a battle of the locales everyone seems to shit on, Jersey and Detroit, The D came out triumphant. When I spotted original bad boy John Sally at the cafeteria on Wednesday, I knew the victory was sealed. It was a beautiful omen. Let's just get the Pacers out of the way and get to a playoff with the Lakers, so I can get jumped at every bar from here to Riverside.
In unrelated news, MSNBC explores the "crunk" hip-hop genre, but fails to address the real issue of skeet.
posted by jessica at 10:39 AM | Comments (1)
May 20, 2004
Assimilation: I'm Loving It!
The Blueprint Foundation would have easily paid hundreds of dollars to sit in on the meeting where McDonald's marketing execs thought of targeting the Asian and Pacific Islander American market by creating the hot website I-Am-Asian. Now you can chow down on a Filet-o-Fish whilst learning about great Asian scholarship opportunities and cool Asian history! Put down the tempura and pick up an Egg McMuffin, because McDonald's respects Asian culture--"whether we're sipping green tea or enjoying a Big Mac sandwich." Hey, you, in the rice paddy: french fries don't make you fat, they make you American!
posted by jessica at 03:56 PM | Comments (2)
That's what you get when you let the Jews run Hollywood
posted by jessica at 12:08 PM | Comments (3)
Lowdown and throwdown
When Gossip Columnists Attack, tonight on Fox! Page Six bitch-slaps Lloyd Grove for stealing an item from US Weekly regarding the already-old-story of Apple Martin's name. I, for one, am immensely disappointed in Grove--first GraydonGate, now this. Is there not a single celebrity asslicker I can trust?
Remember "The Spot," the Real World of the interweb? Looks like it's coming back and going to be available on your wireless gadget of choice. Because, like, why pay attention in your meetings when you can use your Palm to watch some retarded crackwhore whine about how her beer is stale and no one will make out with her?
Is there such a thing as statutory blog rape? If so, Defamer is getting dangerously close. Then again, if possibly getting breast implants and then letting your shit hang out all around town before you're legal means Lindsay Lohan is asking for it, then yes, I suppose she is.
posted by jessica at 11:50 AM | Comments (0)
Unsolicited opinions
Being the high-ranking and supremely powerful entertainment industry goddess I am, I had an opportunity yesterday to view the pilot episodes for both Joey and The Office. Both are scripted NBC comedies which, by all accounts, should automatically indicate that the shows will blow. A Scrubs-like wildcard, however, seems to have been pulled and put to good use in the suits' development meetings, because neither show is awful. In fact, both are decent. Maybe even funny. Yes, we're as shocked around here as you are. For your reference, of course, a rundown is in order.
Joey
Cast: Matt LeBlanc, Drea de Matteo, Paulo Costanzo, Jennifer Coolidge, Ashley Scott
The Pitch: Hey, Friends is dead, but let's resuscitate the dumb one! If you don't already know that Joey revolves around Joey moving to LA to pursue his acting career, get your head out from under that rock. Confession: I really, really wanted to hate this show. It's so much easier to write hateful things, after all. Alas, I actually found myself amused by the tired Joey gags, perhaps because he's surrounded by a great supporting cast. Drea de Matteo breathes life into what could be an utterly predictable sister role and really, we can't imagine a better insane agent than Jennifer Coolidge. Is the show smart or original? Hell no. But Ashley Scott doesn't seem to wear a bra much, so we're thinking people will watch.
The Prognosis: Joey is one of the few fall comedies launching this season, so we'll take what we can get. Amusing, cute and unoriginal--hey, it worked for Friends. It'll be a hit for a new show, but won't ever come near huge success.
Office: An American Workplace
Cast: Steve Carell and a bunch of other unknowns
The Pitch: Admittedly, we've never seen the BBC's version of The Office (we'll get to it), but we're betting that the slightly-adjusted title reflects the desubtilization (is that a word?) of the original's smart humor for "stupid American audiences." Nevertheless, the mockumentary format still shines and Daily Show alum Steve Carell is absolutely insane in his depiction of a jackass boss. Unlike Coupling, the American version of this import is actually funny. As a professional schlepper and fetcher, Office touched my soul, but I doubt everyone will feel the same way.
The Prognosis: The humor is dry, absurd and clever. NBC has greenlit a midseason launch, but that means nothing. It'll end up on Bravo. Must watch the original in the meantime.
posted by jessica at 10:56 AM | Comments (4)
May 19, 2004
24 hours later
In an act of self-restraint, I saw Jimmy Fallon at lunch yesterday and did not (1) take a camera phone picture; (2) run up and throw myself across his cheeseburger and chili fries; (3) scurry back to my desk and blog about it. Okay, well, I tried to take a camera phone picture, but there was no way to be sly. You can't expect me to go cold-turkey adult now, can you? I have to wonder, however, if perhaps he hasn't flown in to the big movie studio just a bit too soon after his SNL departure. Talk about rushing things. Beware the story of Chevy Chase.
posted by jessica at 11:21 AM | Comments (3)
Get me Oribe on the phone
Enough about Graydon Carter. Pocketing money, not being a good editor, what about journalism, blah blah blah. Can we please discuss the real issue? Why doesn't anyone give his hair the same coverage as Donald Trump's? It's just as offensive.
Martin Bashir inks a deal with ABC and 20/20: the softly-lit, kindly celebrity interview is officially dead. We're betting on several "Bashir Bashes" headlines during his tenure. Unless, of course, he goes softy--which might've happened the second his pen touched the paper. We hear network deals have a limping effect on men.
Ted Leo fans, rejoice: the man and his band are planning a fall release for their new LP.
posted by jessica at 10:28 AM | Comments (0)
In the kitchen where she belongs
Sarah Jessica Parker dishes to Charlie Rose on married life; commence tabloid speculation.
ퟙI pack for him, I shop for him, I get his groceries. Hes taken care of. Thats who Matthew is people take care of him. Its practically involuntary.ퟘ
Wow, Sarah, brilliant soundbite! While you're busy riding the self-congratulatory glory of being the princess of all that Sex and the City has "accomplished" for modern women, be sure to take advantage of the smaller things, such as moments to quietly fuel rumors of marital strife! Excellent!
posted by jessica at 10:14 AM | Comments (0)
May 18, 2004
Sometimes, thighs aren't enough
Like the rest of the country, we saw Troy over the weekend and felt slightly underwhelmed. In the hierarchy of recent epics, this one didn't quite live up to Gladiator. Not that we were expecting much, mind you, but we did hope for less talking from Brad Pitt and more slow-motion close-ups on his impeccable physique. After all, they didn't cast the man for his acting. Whilst ogling what we could on Mr. Pitt, we fell in love with Eric Bana, who should be a big, big star starting right now. For all its sweeping glory, however, Troy didn't quite live up to its $150 million price tag, and execs are sweating the possibility that the epic may be a financial loss.
posted by jessica at 11:51 AM | Comments (3)
Insert your own punchline
The NY Daily News loosely reports:
The early taste of "Joey" is a savory one.
posted by jessica at 11:18 AM | Comments (1)
Mondays are the new Fridays
Or not. It was under the aforementioned stupid declaration that I decided staying out rather late last night was a fine idea. Nevertheless, we saw 5 live music acts for the price of none thanks to a free night at Spaceland, including Telecast and one Ben Lee, who was very cute and gracious and did a charming cover of "Float On" that had the whole audience singing along.
The real highlight of last night (which merits its own paragraph) was The Like: these girls haven't even graduated high school and they are just painfully talented, like mini Sleater Kinneys. There were mom-and-pop-ish types sitting next to us and, after the show, we asked if they were parents of any of the girls in the band. "No," the mom-type replied. "We're friends of the parents and big fans. One of those girls has a 15-page paper due tomorrow." Right. The girls have a Monday night residency at Spaceland for the month of May, and I recommend you check them out. But don't be a dirty old man about it, okay?
posted by jessica at 10:41 AM | Comments (6)
I just saw a ghost.
A long, bone-white arm hanging out of a car window. A cigarette dangling in the driver's limp hand. Clumps of blonde hair whipping about. A filthy Lexus being sharply maneuvered around corners. Glimpses of pale, distorted skin. One good look at the driver's skeletal face and it's suddenly clear: I am sharing the road with Courtney Love. I try to keep up with her so I can sneak more looks at her gargantuam sunglasses and sad mouth, but I'm already going 25 mph over the limit just to tail her. She makes a left on a yellow arrow and is gone.
posted by jessica at 09:27 AM | Comments (3)
May 17, 2004
As if I were in NYC and "cared"
Krucoff finally gets to sit at the Gawker table, and it takes him less than a full 24 hours at the helm to address his archrival and secret lover. But, like, he's not really mean or anything. We're confused. Sounds like the secret love might not be so secret anymore... Come out and play, boys!
If you're not aware of the hottest guy in British Transvestite Comedy, meet Eddie Izzard. I caught a special with him at the lovely hour of 4 am on one of the cable channels and while I could barely understand him, when I could, I laughed.
For all the terrible reviews that Coffee and Cigarettes is getting, why do I still want to see it? Oh, because it's black and white and I need to feel smart.
posted by jessica at 02:54 PM | Comments (3)
Is it any wonder?
Sigh:
posted by jessica at 12:52 PM | Comments (1)
You heard it here first
Network up-fronts are in NYC this week; you can now spot your favorite studio wonk schmoozing over the new fall schedules at Hearth or something. Manhattanites, keep an eye out for the tan and taut West Coast executives--they'll be the ones fumbling with the concept of public transportation. NBC has unveiled its drama-heavy lineup, as will all the networks throughout the week. What you don't know, however, is that Fox will renew both Tru Calling and Arrested Development for a second season. Both will be announced on Thursday, and both were definitely on the bubble of extinction. While the impending cancellation of Tru would have had Damore and many others in a tizzy, dropping Arrested would've sparked a critical riot. Smart move, Berman: keep the peace.
And, of course, a quick gossipy tidbit: saw Shannon Elizabeth this morning, walking into work the same time as me, and she was sporting an ill-advised white scrunchy. The horror!
posted by jessica at 11:03 AM | Comments (5)
May 15, 2004
Well, congratulations
To you, Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin: you now have a baby girl named Apple. Your child, while guaranteed a relatively fabulous life, is also a fruit. Brilliant.
posted by jessica at 10:24 AM | Comments (7)
May 14, 2004
I told you bathrooms are the new VIP lounges!
As all the hip and fashionable know, press conferences are about as haute as dinner reservations at McDonald's. Always the trendsetter, Courtney Love decided to take pressing journalists into an arena she clearly knows best: the public restroom. That's right, media scum, you're on C-Lo's turf now! Want to ask her a question? Better be prepared to shout over flushing toilets. Everyone's favorite trainwreck gave a typical diatribe to female reporters inside the women's room at Manhattan's Criminal Court and even took a moment to put her best face forward:
ퟙIm exactly the same as Ive always been,ퟘ said Love, who stopped on her way out to touch up a court artists rendition of her. ퟙIm not a demure housewife. Why should I start acting like one?ퟘ
And in completely unrelated music news:
In the battle of aging rock legends, who will win? Pacifist Morrissey goes for Bowie's jugular! All bets are off!
posted by jessica at 10:38 AM | Comments (0)
Seriously, dude, just stop watching tv.
While I'm busy having nightmares about the Olsens, it seems most straight men are breaking out in cold sweats over becoming Elijah Wood:
Fox issued a stunning news release yesterday for a two-hour reality special to air in June called "Seriously, Dude, I'm Gay" in which, the network said, two heterosexual men will try to convince various people that they are gay. In the news release, Fox described the notion of a straight man "turning gay overnight" as "a heterosexual male's worst nightmare."
The show's premise revolves around taking a handful of fratboys or whomever and shoving them into a West Hollywood apartment--because, well, all the gays (and none of the straights) live in West Hollywood. Duh. I'm eagerly anticipating heartfelt footage of these manly men coming out of their fictional closets to friends and family, because you know casting will be sure to include one man whose family will definitely disown him. That's sheer comedy! Hahaha! That silly gay lifestyle!
posted by jessica at 09:34 AM | Comments (8)
May 13, 2004
Well, that didn't last long
In a move that surprises no one but disappoints many, Air America has shut down its LA and Chicago sales offices. Rush Limbaugh is currently cackling over his Oxycontin-sprinkled jelly doughnut.
Hey, Boy With a Pipe, you're just a boy with a pipe. You are by no means the splat-tastic JP! Jackson Pollock's fingerpainting sells for $11.65 million, setting a record for the artist. Oh, wait, that's like a fraction of the Pipe sale, isn't it? Math was never my thing.
We hear that another long-running series will finally end its slow and painful death tonight at 9. You know, Frasier--the one that wins Emmys but no one under 40 watches? Yeah, that's the one.
posted by jessica at 12:06 PM | Comments (1)
Perhaps I left therapy a bit too soon.
I (half-heartedly) try to refrain from an influx of personal anecdotes on this, er, forum, but I had a dream last night that I simply must relay to the world:
I dreamt I was an entertainment reporter sent to interview Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen (see, it gets sick right away). The Olsens, however, are laying low given the recent media frenzy over their weight/behavior/impending legality. The twins are laying so low, in fact, that they're practically in hiding. But I know where they are, thanks to their publicist who clearly trusts me: The Olsens are hiding out in Royal Oak, Michigan, specifically in an apartment complex near my old high school.
Seeing as their hiding spot is so convenient for me, I hop on over to the hometown and meet up with the twins at their shitty apartment. Not only are they incredibly friendly with me, but they're ridiculously open about their lifestyle--to the extent that the girls haven't even attempted to clean the place up for my arrival. As such, there's cocaine splattered all over the secondhand coffee table. They're chain-smoking. And they're inviting me to do tequila shots with them.
I try to ask the Olsens about all the speculation around their lifestyle and, given the behavior they're exhibiting before me, whether or not this interview is such a wise idea. But it's too late--Mary Kate is out the door and suddenly in the apartment complex's grassy commons area, and she's building a bonfire. It's 3 in the afternoon. Ashley throws garbage off of their balcony into the bonfire, and flames are everywhere.
Then I woke up. Um, I'm a little worried about myself.
posted by jessica at 10:53 AM | Comments (1)
Let's start speculating, shall we?
I know you've got some ideas on this one:
"Which box-office hero is so smitten with the lush leading lady of his next picture that observers liken him to a puppy nipping at her heels - and other parts? Meanwhile, his wife can't figure out why he's been so distracted lately. Hollywood insiders expect the whole thing to bust open later this week when the lovebirds will be in Cannes at the same time for different movies."
Unfortunately, despite the heat on Mr. and Mrs. Smith with Angelina Jolie, it's not Brad and Jen--that was so two days ago and Aniston doesn't have anything at Cannes (correct me if I'm wrong). I want you all to put on your thinking caps and concentrate v.v. hard. I'm still a bit disappointed in you whores after letting me down last time.
posted by jessica at 09:28 AM | Comments (7)
May 12, 2004
I need a good friend
Here's the point where I make a personal plea:
It's been determined that I will be residing in NYC by the time of both this festival and this festival. And, well, I want to go. Anyone need some arm candy? Ask the Coachella kids, I'm bundles of fun at these things.
UPDATE: I can't even go to Lollapalooza, seeing as I'll be in school. Dammit.
posted by jessica at 12:52 PM | Comments (9)
Complete with extra footage of His disembowelment!
Suddenly, August 31st becomes gory and somehow holy: The Passion is set to be released on DVD. You might want to avoid the local Best Buy that day.
I just received an email from Borders, in which I was offered a 40% discount on Bill Clinton's upcoming memoir. Too bad it has yet to be completed and is pushing 900 pages. Lord knows I love me some William Jefferson, but I don't read anything bigger than a Baby-Sitters Club Super Special.
Go see the Killers in Vegas. The catch? They're performing for Carson Daly's Last Douche. If you only learn one vapid thing from the Blueprint, may it be that nothing comes easy.
posted by jessica at 11:02 AM | Comments (1)
You can't trust those Katzenbergs
Okay, fine, I'll post this crap first: the Olsen twins are now single. Bonnie Fuller's devil rats at The Star report that Jeffrey's spawn, David Katzenberg, is cheating on Mary-Kate (perhaps because she's too frail to take to bed). Meanwhile, Ashley has given her Columbia football stud, Matt Kaplan, the boot for being a bit clingy. While I'm sure you're all heartbroken to see these jewriffic relationships fizzle, the girls will surely be all the more free come fall at NYU. Commence masturbatory celebration, pervs.
As much as I would love to just electronically stimulate my cellulite (thanks, Mom, I really owe you for my thighs) or fill in some dimples with lard until all signs of discontent disappear, I've found that it's a lot cheaper to, like, not eat so much. And maybe even go for a walk or something. Or, god forbid, we could just accept that cellulite is normal to a certain degree--ha ha, I'm kidding, gang! This is LA! Bring on the freak treatments!
posted by jessica at 07:43 AM | Comments (2)
May 11, 2004
Help me to help you
Can anyone please tell me who performs the cover of "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" they've been rotating on Indie 103.1? Aside from the tune being one of my favorite songs of its era (predictable, I know, but a favorite nevertheless), the live performance is gorgeous: one guitar, a sweet voice, and the audience faintly singing along. Maybe it's the barely-legal cocktail of antibiotics I'm on, but I was moved to tears upon hearing it this morning and, despite already being 10 minutes late for work, remained parked in my car to hear the song in its entirety.
posted by jessica at 12:33 PM | Comments (5)
SoCal once went to the LES
Upon seeing that humpy Mr. Krucoff is sponsoring a "contest" in which the "winner" will be rewarded with a weekend spent in the hipster haven they call the Lower East Side, I wept with nostalgia for an evening spent so long ago (er, 3 weeks ago) in his treasured neighborhood. Rather than write a formal essay, I've decided to merely cut and paste a snippet of an email I sent in the wake of my departure, a morsel I feel accurately depicts my passion for the neighborhood he calls home:
"The catcalls of 'Hey Barbie girl!' from your lovely neighbors during my hunt for an elusive cab proved to be very emotionally fulfilling."
posted by jessica at 12:19 PM | Comments (4)
Gossip gimp comes out to play
Roger Friedman somehow manages to sneak into both the premiere for "Troy" and the after-party at Cipriani. Really, who the hell keeps giving him these press badges? And what was Friedman doing at a WB release? Harvey must've let him off of DB-duty for the night. Nevertheless, Roger managed to talk to Jennifer Aniston for at least 45 seconds before she either spontaneously vomited or was whisked away by her PR flacks (you guess which).
Clear Channel starts up an "entertainment division," presumbaly to create tailor-made venues for advertisers. So, like, don't watch their stuff.
The Scoop is actually decent today: Marilyn Manson has been cast as Jesus in an upcoming film (ooh, the religious right isn't going to see the humor in that one) and Courtney Love may be starring in her own reality show. As if she weren't already. C-Lo posted a grammatically abhorrent rant somewhere over at Suicide Girls (blocked by my corporate overlords) about the matter.
posted by jessica at 10:46 AM | Comments (0)
Shark-jumping du jour
The Seavers certainly didn't need to throw that redheaded kid into the mix, and Andre 3000 sure doesn't need to throw a cartoon series under his belt. The proposed project will likely be for Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, thus making the whole idea a bit more palatable, but are a bunch of stoned college kids going to go for watching an Andre 3000 cartoon over their favorite DVDs?
Don Johnson's star has fallen so far that the poor "actor" can't even get busted for something good. No, it seems that Mister Johnson has a few thousand dollars' worth of deliquent grocery bills. Don, try speeding with half a kilo of horse--that'll get you some much needed PR buzz.
Yesterday's Page Six ditty: totally true. Also determined in our hallowed halls is Nicole's (barely) superior intelligence.
Finally, speaking of old gossip news, can we please clear up this blind item? And don't say Elijah Wood, it's definitely not him:
"Which young heartthrob might be facing a lawsuit from the parents of two teenage boys? At the recent premiere of his movie, the actor invited the pubescent pair back to his hotel room for an "after party" which turned out to be just the three of them, then plied the youngsters with liquor and tried to get them into bed. The boys promptly told their folks, who are said to be mulling legal action."
Any guesses? Come on, people, I know you have your ideas!
posted by jessica at 05:05 AM | Comments (2)
May 10, 2004
Turn-ons: Manolos. Turn-offs: Voting.
And you thought minorities were disenfranchised: single girls find politics "icky." This, of course, is quite dismaying. In the wake of SATC, the bracket needs to focus and up its worth. Granted, John Kerry is no Clintonian hottie, but he's worth a trip to the polls. [final link via body glitter via janelle.]
posted by jessica at 01:06 PM | Comments (1)
The lost art of angry letter-writing
Have you ever wondered how to secure $150 in free gift certificates from the bourgeoisie department store of your chosing? For just a few hours of wasted time, an affinity for overpriced denim, and a completely faux air of superiority, you too can secure free compensatory goods:
April 20, 2004
VIA U.S. MAIL
Mr. James Gray
Bloomingdales
151 W. 34th Street
New York, NY 10001
Re: An Unfortunate Experience
Dear Mr. Gray:
For most of my life, I have considered Bloomingdales to be a bright spot in the world of department store shopping. I have consistently chosen your store as my primary destination for its excellent, high-quality selection and wonderful service. That is, until yesterday.
[Ed: The introduction, you see, is key. C'mon, it's funny.]
On April 17, I went to Bloomingdales Century City to purchase a new pair of jeans, as Ive always found the selection in your Y.E.S. section to reflect the best denim available. I selected a pair of Citizens of Humanity jeans and had the usually reliable in-store tailor measure them to be hemmed, seeing as I am quite short. I made it clear to the woman that I wanted my original hems intactif you are familiar with hemming techniques, you know that this ensures that the artfully faded/frayed/dyed hems will remain on the jeans. The tailor nodded and even ensured that my jeans would be ready in 48 hours, just in time for my impending vacation (which was my primary reason in making the purchase). The entire sale came to $187 plus change.
Yesterday, April 19, I went to the store to pick up my newly-altered jeans. They were promptly handed to me by a pleasant young sales girl named Erika XYZ. I tried the pants on to make sure that the hem was short enough and quickly realized that the original hems had not been left intact, as I had requested. Rather, a new hem had been created, which didnt reflect the careful distressing of the fabric that I had paid so much for. The tailor had misunderstood me and marked the jeans for a different process. As such, the hems looked terrible, as if the pants had been chopped mid-calf and then hastily sewn up. I informed Erika that, given the high cost of the jeans, this was unacceptable. Furthermore, there was no stock of Citizens of Humanity jeans larger than a tiny size 25 (whereas I wear at least a 26), so an exchange was impossible. Erika needed a manager, however, to approve the return of the pants, so she went about paging any and all managers on duty.
After 40 minutes, Erika had still not heard from a manager. She phoned an executive (whose name I did not get) and explained that there were no available managers; the executive informed her that I could not return my jeans. Seeing as I could not find a suitable exchange, I asked to speak with the executive personally. I was then told to wait, as someone was on their way. Another 20 minutes passed with no sort of authority figure and, finally, Erika called the executive again, who approved the return of the jeans given that no manager was available.
While I was finally able to receive a refund on my purchase, I am extremely dismayed at the level of service I experienced. Erika XYZ was very sweet and apologetic, but there was absolutely nothing she could do for me without the approval of a manager. During my long hour standing in your store, several other salesgirls in the neighboring sections were complaining to Erika about not being able to reach any managers for their own reasons. These young ladies were put in an unacceptable situation by not being able to contact any managers or get any immediate support. Thankfully, Barneys was still open after the debacle, and I took my hard-earned money to their attentive staff.
I find it insulting and appalling to be left fuming for an hour, merely to rectify a mistake made by the stores alteration department. I was unable to speak to a single person in a position of authority and, whats more, my valuable time was wasted by your store. If this is the level of service I can expect from Bloomingdales, I will be sure to take my money elsewhere. Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus, and Nordstroms are consistently far more appreciative of my investment in their merchandise. Perhaps your company could take a page from their customer service manuals.
Sincerely,
Jessica Blueprint
cc: Bloomingdales
Century City Shopping Center
10250 Santa Monica Boulevard
Los Angeles, CA 90067
posted by jessica at 12:18 PM | Comments (4)
Big papers with tiny print
Are you still reading the New York Times? Quit being so 2002. After reeling in 5 Pulitzers this year, the LA Times is the new black. Editor John Carroll has had remarkably few dissenters (correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe you can count the number of pissy-reporter-departures on one hand), but his embrace of this new and edgy thing called fair coverage is really wild:
The Carroll regime has not been without controversy. Last May he criticized a piece on abortion for not giving both sides of the story, saying in an internal memo, "We are not going to push a liberal agenda in the news pages of the Times." Carroll published a story last October, only five days before the recall election, about Arnold Schwarzenegger's alleged groping of women. The paper was accused of trying to influence the vote, but Carroll was unapologetic, writing an editor's note promising even more investigative reporting.
In a triumph of good over evil (or nerds over pervs, if you will), Van Helsing bends the Olsen twins over and spanks them into box office oblivion. The Blueprint, however, endorses neither film, having seen Mean Girls on Friday (I'm definitely going to be writing more on this matter, but not yet). Give your money to the smart humor of Tina Fey, people!
I generally tried to avoid the political items 'round here (really, they say more than I ever could), but I'd be seriously remiss were I not to link to a disturbing article over at Slate regarding how our Prezzie is stupid in ways far worse than those we generally fault him for.
Slow and obvious news day: Page Six calls Christina Aguilera a skank.
posted by jessica at 10:52 AM | Comments (3)
May 07, 2004
Canned food drive for starving twins
OlsenMania has just about peaked: New York Minute opens today, a breathless event only to be topped by that fateful day come June. Jen Daily Refill reminds us how emaciated they are (disturbing), while Nick links to a handy guide on telling the two apart--which should be easy, of course, given the hair, but I always forget which is which because I don't really care. Then again, I don't have a penis.
I heard that this really not-funny sitcom that's been running for about five years too long ended last night. I was going to do a blogging of the finale, but that would have required me to pay attention to the pithy dialogue and overly obvious resolution to that whole romance plot thing they've been stringing on me since high school. So, instead, I half-watched and made a can of tomato soup. Fine by me, since MSNBC actually decided to blog the finale. Another "legitimate" news outlet flies the coop.
Two members of Sigur Ros go solo; we wait with dreamy, sleepy anticipation.
posted by jessica at 11:21 AM | Comments (4)
Allow me to paraphrase
"I know, it's very sad to have Friends ending. But, well, here's what you can do now: you can go out and make friends of your own. Yeah! It's not just something that occurs between famous people!"
-John Stewart, The Daily Show
posted by jessica at 07:06 AM | Comments (0)
And the moral of the story is...
Apologies for being so single-minded the past 24 hours, but we've been rather focused. Pseudo-normal non-OC content to resume shortly. Promise.
Like sands through the hourglass, 27 episodes of The OC slipped through our fingers, leaving us with little more than fond memories of Balboa bars and bonfires. Twenty. Seven. Episodes. We'll never have that again, you realize. The DVDs won't be released until October, likely just before the new season begins. What, then, to do with the five long months ahead? Rather than endlessly rehash the season's oh-so-controversial finale (the Blueprint bets that Chino stays in Chino for no more than 2 episodes; Seth turns around and heads back when he runs out of CapriSuns), or recount our favorite moments, we'd like to use the deafening silence of impending Wednesdays as an opportunity to reflect one last time. After all, this may very well be the last self-indulgent OC-obsessive post we compose. Ever. No joke. As such, and without further ado, The Blueprint presents:
THE 10 MOST IMPORTANT LESSONS OF THE OC
10. Every Moment is a Fashion Opportunity:
Why carry your books in a messenger bag when you can have a quilted Chanel tote? Why look matronly when that sexy tube top is burning a hole in your closet? Tennis shoes be damned, Newport Beach is the home of pointy flats and painful stilettos. Throw dinner parties just so you can wear that new Armani frock! Fashion shows are the new fundraisers! Miniskirts are no longer an option--they're mandatory, bitches, so quit eating! And if you're heading back to Chino, be sure to dress down in your classic wifebeater and hooded jacket.
9. Anything East of the Coastline is Trash:
If the grainy-lensed Chino-Cam didn't spell it out for you, allow us. Look what comes out of Irvine and beyond: Julie Cooper's alchoholic sister, Ryan Atwood's alchoholic mother, the easily-impregnated Theresa and the naturally abusive Eddie. If you're going to leave the coastal cities, prepare to have your car stolen, because Riverside and Co. don't mess around. Can I see the ocean from your bedroom window? No? Then fuck off.
8. Don't Get Too Comfy:
What's that, Caitlin? You want a pony? Gone. Anna? You want to get in the way of Summer and Seth's destiny? Take your newsboy hat back to Pittsburgh. Oh, Luke, your dad is gay and you slept with the devil? You're going to hell (oops, I mean Oregon). Lawyer lady who tried to seduce the Gallagher away from Kiki? Bye bye. You see, the OC stops for nobody. Enjoy life while you can, because you're always a moment away from being ruthlessly written out of it.
7. Indie Outsiders are the New Insiders:
We all saw the forlorn painted promo pictures of Seth all summer, and we empathized with his nerdy misunderstood character. But when he became Newport's barometer for all things indie, we had to draw the line. Death Cab posters next to Rooney and Ben Folds? What, does he have a profit share in Kavalier and Clay book sales? Nope, Seth Cohen just couldn't keep his mouth shut and stay unhappy and unliked. He had to make that disaffected dork thing cute and cool, and then he gets dream girl Summer! That's not indie, dammit!
6. Adults Have Lives Too, and They're Really Effed Up:
Even though Sandy Cohen can always talk to the D.A., there's only so much the man behind the brows can do, leaving the rest of Newport's parents to their own devices. Security fraud? Check. Environmental destruction? Check. Drinking problems? Check. Statutory rape? Check. Stripping for coke money? Check.
5. Liberal Guilt Makes the World Go 'Round: Sure, we don't encourage you to break into cars, get in fights, piss off the headmaster, or scare everyone around you, but we sure as hell aren't going to fault you for it! Go ahead, destroy the Range Rover, you can still hang with the Cohens. Feel like sneaking to Tijuana? Maybe a slap on the wrist for you, that should teach you a lesson. Get knocked up? Hey, the lady at the abortion clinic seems really nice, I don't see a problem here!
4. People are in Therapy for a Reason:
Despite what you may have heard, Coop does not have a problem. She was just playing a lot of tennis and pushed to the edge by her mom. Therapy was a last resort, only to keep her Julie Coop from unnecessarily shipping poor Marissa off to the padded playhouse. But Oliver Trask, well, he's another story. Hey Coop, just because you're going through the motions with a counselor doesn't mean everyone else is--that fellow in the waiting room with you may be legitimately insane! It's therapy, not social hour: keep him there before he locks you in his suite at the Four Seasons and threatens to kill you both.
3. Drinking is a Viable Coping Mechanism:
We might not have needed a Wednesday night lesson to teach us this, but we sure do appreciate Josh Schwartz's reinforcing of our beliefs. Hey KiKi, have a glass of wine, it will help you deal with your nasty father. Actually, make that 7 glasses of wine, because we sure aren't counting! You know, Luke, if Julie Cooper's done you wrong, Sierra Nevada & Bob Seger can fix it. Go crash your pickup, because you've got teen angst! 
Marissa, your new mansion is so damn big, no one will ever catch you slamming that fifth of vodka. Newport is a world of pain and we've got to drink our way through it.
2. Fighting is Imperative:
No argument is ever won with words! The OC has shown us that even manicured rich hands can pack a hefty punch. Don't like the new kid? Have a sneaking suspicion your girl's friend is insane? Angry about your investments? Think your dad's fiancee is a conniving bitch? Have at it. The Great Gatsby isn't just a book, you know. You could talk the problems out, or you could start swinging. Go with the latter my friends, cause on the mean streets of the OC, you don't have a choice.
1. There's Room in the Pool House for Everyone:
Just because Ryan was there first doesn't mean he's laid sole claim to the hottest digs this side of the Balboa wetlands. In a time of turmoil and war, the Pool House has come to symbolize stability, peace and shelter. It's no less than the United Nations of Newport Beach, complete with an infinity pool. Marissa, come lay your head on its gentle pillows. Luke, run to the Pool House and tell it your secrets. It doesn't matter what you kids have done, this sofa bed is for you. Hey, Haley, you don't have to sleep in the Pool House to know that it has taken you under its wings. Theresa, quit staying at the Mermaid Inn, the Cohens will lift you back up where you belong. In the event of apocalyptic anarchy, heaven knows where we can seek refuge!
[Ed: Major thanks to the usual OC players, who helped me get this done during valuable working hours.]
posted by jessica at 05:00 AM | Comments (5)
May 06, 2004
I need to get my priorities straight
Last night I skipped Muse--yes, that Muse--to see the finale of the OC. Frankly, it's not a decision I regret. Granted, I'm a little crazy. Tonight, I'll skip Snow Patrol (and oh, Nathaniel, I know I promised I'd go) to watch the final episode of Friends. While I can justify staying in for the OC, being the idiot I am, I can't quite articulate why I feel the need to see Friends right as it airs. I haven't watched a single episode all season, in fact--so why do I care now? I suppose I feel the need to be part of a retarded national dialogue that will occur around the water cooler. So, um, yeah, Friends ends tonight. Slate has an excellent exploration of why we even gave a shit about this mediocre show to begin with.
While I'm busy thinking of a post to do the OC justice (a post which may never materialize, I fear, should my condition fail to improve), I am compelled to refer you to this, the story behind the frightening image at right.
posted by jessica at 11:17 AM | Comments (0)
For once, at a loss for words
Last night, the OC moved me to tears...until Marissa started slamming the bottle again. Then I laughed. Actually, we all cheered. Teen alcoholism! Hurrah! Expect a full update in a bit, I'm feeling ill this morning and blogging is not high on the priority list. In the meantime, I've finally put up some craptastic photography from Coachella, conveniently located at right.
posted by jessica at 10:02 AM | Comments (7)
May 05, 2004
If you love something, set it free
Raising a child has never been easy, but I firmly believe it's not nearly as difficult as fostering a blogger. During my New York escapades, Megan the Awesome Guest Blogger enjoyed her stint to such an extent that she's run off and started her own blog. It's a group venture, written in part by several members of her comedy troupe, Employee of the Month. Frankly, she's better at this than I am.
In utterly unrelated news, The Guardian attempts to list the 50 most defining moments in 50 years of Pop. While there's far more to list in the past than there is in the present, the 90s and 00s are a bit dismaying, with only 3 items listed per decade. This is a joke, right?
The 90s
- 1992 - Nirvana, "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
- 1995 - Blur vs. Oasis
- 1995 - Spice Girls meet Simon Fuller
The 00s
- The birth of Napster
- George Bush declares Eminem 'The biggest threat to American youth since Polio'
- Beyonce and the triumph of R&B
I believe that lists like this exist just to piss people off. Fine, the Brit-pop is merited given that it is the Guardian writing this, Napster is an obvious choice, and Nirvana is substantiated as well. But the Spice Girls? Can't we find a better example of the teen pop phenomenon? Bush declaring Eminem a threat? You lost me there. And really, does Beyonce signify the "triumph of R&B?" Didn't R&B triumph before Beyonce, thus making her solo rise that much easier? Forgive me if I'm totally off-base here (since, as established yesterday, I'm "not a music blogger"), but these seem lacking solid ground to stand on. Then again, I'm not sure I could list anything better. Maybe you, dear reader, can.
posted by jessica at 12:09 PM | Comments (6)
Cinco de Whatever
Let's be honest: much like Saint Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo is amateur hour. If you need a Mexican holiday commemorating a victory over the French (no big deal there) to kick back a few drinks, well, you're just not drinking enough. No offense to any recovering alcholics out there--I'm just saying that days like today tend to be a little B&T or, if you're on my coast, Valley & Ventura.
[Ed: I welcome all hate mail from Valley & Ventura readers. Give it to me, bitches!]
Gideon Yago, watch out: Al Gore finally has finally secured his own cable network, which should resemble a 24-hour MTV News broadcast. THANK GOD, because I don't have enough Sway in my life as is.
posted by jessica at 10:49 AM | Comments (2)
Kobe, Peterson, and Jacko--oh my!
C'mon, you know you're tired of hearing about Iraq, the elections, and all that other important stuff. Seriously, tv news has been such a downer since 9/11--it's about time network coverage got a little more FUN! Yay! Insider journos predict that Americans with ADD will be pleased to no end by the potential crapload of trial coverage to commence the summer. Not only are these types of pseudo-issues cheaper for impoverished networks to cover, but the redblooded viewers will always reliably tune in to watch public figures watch slowly and painfully to their demise!
Speaking of crap on television, last night's Real World involved Cameron's heart hurting over something stupid with Robin. But after they sober up, Robin climbs under the covers with Cameron and the two spoon while goonish Brad lustily watches on. Then, suddenly, it's all Frankie's fault because she was placating both psycho girls. WTF?! Finally, Randy blows his lid and his voice starts cracking like a prepubescent alcholic: "Don't tell me I'm never sober, because I will cry!" I'm sure Karen will have some rant on this--I can't even articulate how stupid these 'tards are. Next week, it seems that Robin will cry about something. Shocking indeed.
posted by jessica at 06:24 AM | Comments (2)
May 04, 2004
Somewhere, a dirty old man just wet himself.
Not surprisingly, New York Minute apparently sucks, but it's also subtle like a sledgehammer:
posted by jessica at 11:34 AM | Comments (2)
Well, it's about time
In a town full of assholes, Nick Denton's minions are ripping a few new ones over at their latest productivity-preventer, Defamer. My LA people, your wishes have been granted. Now go tell The Defamer how your boss threw hot coffee on you when you failed to secure a table for 10 at the Ivy with only 4 minutes' notice.
UPDATE: Naysayers, you must give the Defamer a chance. It's day one, it's a big launch, and you know the LA lowlies are hesitant to dish when trust has yet to be established.
posted by jessica at 09:19 AM | Comments (5)
Maggie Seaver was robbed. Robbed!
From the asinine and pointless department (which happens to define much of this content, natch): Claire Huxtable is voted the Best TV Mom Ever. Marion Cunningham (Happy Days) and Marge Simpson (the Simpsons) placed as runner-ups. Here at the Blueprint, we (we being my 2 friends or whomever) think this is a crock. Claire Huxtable? Are you kidding? She was a lawyer! Meanwhile, the superb parenting as written on Growing Pains was completely overlooked, and the modern day glory of Kirsten Cohen went unmentioned. Opinion Research Reporting, I must question your methods.
posted by jessica at 06:00 AM | Comments (4)
May 03, 2004
I can't feel my legs
Back from Coachella as of an hour or so ago and I don't know where to begin. I'm afraid that should I even begin to detail the fracas, I'd either incriminate myself or end up composing a 3000-word essay on the merits of "riding the snake" in the desert. As if I found myself just as I collapsed from a heat stroke. Well, I didn't find myself, but I did find ADAM BRODY. There we were, standing right next to him. I didn't say anything at all, because he seemed insanely stoned and I wanted to "be cool" during the Pixies and whatnot. Josh Schwartz was right behind him and it took every ounce of strength to not run up and ask how the season was going to end, or praise him for his retarded genius that has destroyed my Wednesdays. I am the girl who will talk to just about anyone, but when the OC kids show, I'm dumbstruck. So I just texted people like the third-grade girl I am at heart.
As long as I'm not writing about the music yet (that was why I braved the insane heat, wasn't it?), allow me to tell you something about young Mischa Barton, featured at left, hours before the Spin party, where she was literally dry-humped by her billionaire Davis boyfriend on the lawn. Missionary style. For at least 20 seconds. Her ridiculously-inappropriate Chanel bag was no doubt marred with grass stains. I wish I were exaggerating. Really, Mischa, no one expects you to be smart, but can you actually be so dumb as to writhe about on the ground in the middle of a party populated by tons of journalists?
posted by jessica at 12:03 PM | Comments (13)
