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June 25, 2004
Completely out of character
It's been a long time coming, but it's my last day in LA. I'm feeling strangely and uncontrollably sad about my departure from a place I never really liked; I'd chalk it up to exhaustion but that'd be an unfair and glossy treatment.
Some have suggested that I plow through the boxing and bubble wrap with a focus on the excitement of the coming month: the return to old friends in Michigan, the move to New York. But I've been thinking like that for months. I've finally stopped and thought about the end of my time here, and it's profoundly painful.
And, just when it's all too much to bear, there's a car chase on the local news. Right now. It's just another day in Los Angeles and I'm saying goodbye.
posted by jessica at 11:36 AM | Comments (13)
June 23, 2004
Carmen Electra's first trip to the Arco
What's so special about a Mercedes in Hollywood?
It belongs to one Carmen Electra, that's what. And while we didn't get a picture of the petite lady and her boxy handbag that no doubt weighed twice as much as her, we did snap a record of her offensive parking job. Allow us to explain: as opposed to pulling her Benz up to the appropriate tank, Gas Station Genius Carmen parked in a manner that prevented anyone from using the other tanks in that aisle. And, at a crowded station on Sunset, in a town like LA where everyone has to get gas every thirty seconds, we find her behavior reprehensible at best.
Shame on you, Carmen. For making us feel so damn petty.
posted by jessica at 10:47 AM | Comments (13)
June 22, 2004
Checking in
We've escaped the confines of cardboard boxes and bubble wrap just long enough to check in and realize that, without our normal routine of perusing the interweb for mindless pseudo-news, we have absolutely no idea what's going on in the world. Thank goodness we had Extra (or Access Hollywood or whatever the hell that annoying program was) on in the background during this morning's packathon, or we never would have realized that Britney's pet shop parking lot debacle was a mere 2 blocks from our lovely abode. Santa Monica, we will miss you dearly, if not for your ocean, then for your proximity to the weird.
posted by jessica at 11:04 AM | Comments (0)
June 18, 2004
It's either this, or a Garfield promo menu
Tips for your Last Foxy Supper: Don't eat the meat, especially if you can trace the remains of the aorta.
UPDATE: Due to the volume of questions regarding the origins of this picture, allow me to clarify that the image above is that of the roast beef served at lunch today in the News Cafe.
posted by jessica at 02:21 PM | Comments (3)
Foxy Jess died today.
We'd like to apologize for the paltry posts as of late, and we've got a decent excuse to back it up: today is our last day as anything remotely Foxy. The glorious desk job, which has not only put ramen on the table but allowed us to blog, has come to an end and, as such, we're resigned to clean up the stacks of shitty papers we've been sitting on for the past few months. Furthermore, next week will be spent tossing, sorting, and packing the two years' worth of the accumulated sediments we've come to recognize as our "life in LA." Who knows, maybe we'll get done sooner than we thought and will again come back to you, like a poisonous ex-lover who keeps calling just to insist they're over you. And then, of course, there's the deliberately slow, weeklong(ish) drive across America, and we hear that Route 66 does not have Wi-Fi. So, if you're not quite getting the point, erraticism is the new black.
We'll be around, of course. Just not with any degree of regularity after today.
posted by jessica at 09:29 AM | Comments (14)
June 17, 2004
Shocking!
Another reality romance dies, contestants spit out recycled breakup schtick:
posted by jessica at 05:54 PM | Comments (2)
You can depend on the French. Yuk yuk.
It's been far too long since we pulled the Too Much Information card, but it's most certainly merited in this case. Some wacky French photographers feel that taking pictures of celebrity garbage qualifies as art, but their image of Larry King's trash revealed a box of Depends adult diapers. We're having trouble writing a witty poop joke (perhaps because "witty poop joke" is a bit oxymoronic, but nevertheless), so we'll just say: Larry, we knew ye not.
posted by jessica at 10:48 AM | Comments (1)
June 16, 2004
May we suggest Batsheva?
We suppose the name "Madonna" is a bit contradictory to the whole hipster-jew-Kabbalah thing, but changing her name to Esther just doesn't mesh well with the pointy cone breasts.
posted by jessica at 12:24 PM | Comments (1)
We'd make a "box" joke, but his taste runs towards boys
What better way to celebrate your dwindling career and impending molestation trial than with the release of an altogether unnecessary and mostly unwanted box set? We're sure Michael Jackson is going this route not for the cash because he's too broke to pay his lawyers, but for the fans. There are fans left, right? Um, right? Anyone? Bueller?
posted by jessica at 12:07 PM | Comments (0)
Get your prom on
'Tis that magical time of the year when teenagers everywhere flock to the mall or, if you're Ally Hilfiger, Bergdorf's, in search of that perfect dress for that perfect evening of Americana, the senior prom. Our senior prom, we will oddly report, involved no drinking nor crowning sexual acheivements, other than innocently sharing a bed with 6 other cohorts which, we acknowledge, could be misconstrued into an interesting story. That doesn't mean, however, that we didn't endure other traditional horrors: the pinning of the boutonniere took a solid 10 minutes, all of which were documented in full by parental units who thought the struggle to secure those damn flowers was "just so cute." But we digress--the point of all this is that we're very much enjoying David Amsden's first two dispatches on Slate regarding his return to prom, in his mid-twenties, as the date of a girl still very much in high school.
posted by jessica at 10:26 AM | Comments (2)
Reparations for Hiroshima
News Corp, in an act of sheer benevolence, has decided that Fox News will no longer air in Japan.
posted by jessica at 10:03 AM | Comments (4)
June 14, 2004
Hey, you, with the extra apartment
A break in our regularly scheduled drivel for a personal plea:
Me. NYC. By August 1. Need a real 2-bedroom at least the size of child's shoebox. East Village or LES preferred, natch, but downtown in general is bueno. I am very, very poor. I like windows, door locks, and working toilets. Any help will be appreciated and rewarded with a watered-down drink, as prepared by yours truly, upon my arrival.
posted by jessica at 09:36 PM | Comments (2)
Madison Avenue continues to force America to bend over and take it like a man
Because it's not insulting enough to pay upwards of $10 to see a movie, the pre-show advertisements we've slowly come to endure are to get increasingly worse. Have you had the pleasure of the two-minute Revlon minimovie in which Julianne Moore jumps the shark? Expect a lot more senseless crap in the same vein. Keep your popcorn buckets empty, you'll need them to contain the inevitable spontaneous vomiting.
posted by jessica at 12:18 PM | Comments (1)
Why we'll never be famous
Inherent to the role of celebrity, it would seem, is a new responsibility: popping out babies with names befitting of your local crackhead. If Apple Martin didn't do it for you, Debra Messing's Roman wasn't your thing, or you weren't even satisfied by Helen Hunt's spectacular baby named Makena' lei (NB to Helen and hubby: you guys are super-white, fyi), have no fear: Courtney Cox has given birth to baby Coco. We can only hope Stellastarr was playing in the Chanel-scented delivery room. We already resent the Arquette-Cox family for forcing us to make such lame jokes.
posted by jessica at 11:06 AM | Comments (4)
Paris has nothing
Bijou Phillips is absolutely insane.
Unrelated: Time magazine hearts politiblogs.
[Ed: We'll get to forming more coherent posts in a bit, but our brain is beyond fried, courtesy of Nevada's liberal legal system. Thanks to Judging Robert for the 2nd linky, as we're too vegetated to provide our own content at this time.]
posted by jessica at 10:29 AM | Comments (0)
June 11, 2004
Like a child on a tricycle, speeding towards a brick wall
The scarcity of today's posts can only be explained as such: we're going to Vegas, baby, and we can't think about much else. We'll be flashing our toothiest smiles and batting our eyelashes in an effort to get some mobster to let us learn how to play craps on his dime. And if we're not back on Monday, well, you know we got sucked into paying off our debts the hard way.
posted by jessica at 05:44 PM | Comments (0)
Good thing her kids won't be bastards
The constant shitstorm surrounding Jennifer Lopez may have reached its frenzied height with her shotgun wedding to Marc Anthony and rumored pregnancy, but we're inclined to think that the following may be the turd that breaks the camel's back:
That's right: J.Lo is anti-orphan and, apparently, still holds a cold-war grudge.
[Ed: It's a slow day here, or else we wouldn't be playing with Microsoft Paint.]
posted by jessica at 10:17 AM | Comments (3)
On our national day of mourning
Reagan isn't the only fat cat getting special PR treatment today.
posted by jessica at 09:23 AM | Comments (4)
June 10, 2004
What did the five fingers say to the face?
In perhaps the best news we've ever heard, like, ever, Dave Chappelle is being considered for the title role in the film adaptation of Rick James' autobiography. Dave, in an effort to secure your casting in this dream role, may we suggest basketball and pancakes?
[via Defamer]
posted by jessica at 11:30 AM | Comments (3)
President of the U.S.? Bah. Try President of SAG, baby!
LA Weekly's resident badass, Nikki Finke, confesses that she might've had a hand in breaking the news that Reagan was on his deathbed, but she's also got some insights to Reagan's Hollywood abuses. Seeing as we generally want to avoid any and all discussion of Reagan's politics on this blessedly ignorant site (we've said more than enough in real life), we thought the following had a nice little spin to it, especially given the hagiographical retrospectives his death has inspired:
posted by jessica at 11:00 AM | Comments (4)
Don't they pay you people to do this?
Remember yesterday when I said that Page Six should name-check its locations when reporting on heiress catfights in the LA club scene? Maybe Richie Johnson should pay a little more attention to el Blueprint, seeing as they've now made the same stupid mistake twice, namedropping the nonexistent club Exis. While we would likely never declare to be more capable of penning Page Six than the Post's current gang of thieves, we do feel we can help the old guard with a little fact checking advice: go to Citysearch and look up Exis. Do you get any nightlife results? No. Done and done.
Sadly enough, we do acknowledge that the actual club where the heiress brouhaha went down, the now-infamous Xes, will probably change its name to Exis just to keep up with the free Page Six PR.
posted by jessica at 10:37 AM | Comments (2)
June 09, 2004
Yeah, a little bit
"Remember how in the mid-90s there was that one moment when every Volvo had a Sub Pop sticker and Sonic Youth had a gold album an Weezer were the coolest and PJ Harvey was on the cover of Time Magazine and how you thought you were part of a revolution and you Rocked The Vote and then how you sort of grew up and Weezer went away and you got a real job and you sort of skipped the last few Guided By Voices albums and then you asked yourself 'What happened to that revolution and why did it go away and am I part of the problem' and then one morning you woke up and it was the summer of 2004 and you looked at your Ikea patio furniture and realized that both Sonic Youth and PJ Harvey had just released their best albums in forever and you knew at that moment that if you did not instantly buy those albums on Insound.com that it meant for sure that you had given up and that you were probably going to hell?"
[via nick]
posted by jessica at 11:50 AM | Comments (7)
Please quit encouraging him!
We're not going to pretend to know the slightest thing about the Council of Fashion Designers of America, but we do know sheer wrongdoing when we see it: the CFDA has awarded Sean "Puffy-Puff Daddy-P. Diddy" Combs with the prestigious title of Menswear Designer of the Year. That hurt to type, people, but we must be aware of his continual rise in power. As if it were not enough that we have to endure his image at every celebutantish event, or that he persists in making da failing band, or even his foray on a Broadway stage--now he's being lauded for Sean John? Someone, please, just make it stop. Make him go away. It hurts.
posted by jessica at 11:25 AM | Comments (0)
Don't pet the rich girls--they bite
We loves us some bitchy heiress action, and Page Six reports that the some wealthy young ladies were going apeshit on each other at a club called "Exis" (NB to Page Six: the joint is called Xes. Get your Bolthouse residencies right if you're going to cover LA). Throw a Playboy model and Nicole Richie into the mix, and you've got genuine clawing that no doubt resulted in the loss of more than a few eyeballs. And poor Casey Johnson--this is the first we've heard about her in ages. She's really got to up her game and have more incidents like these, or else she'll fall to the wayside. Save Casey, everyone! Keep her in the tabs!
posted by jessica at 11:11 AM | Comments (0)
And I'm spent.
Last night we wrapped up our bender with The Stills and Sea Ray at the Fonda. Sea Ray is, in a word, gorgeous. So lush and ethereal, we almost bought a cello after the show. The Stills were solid per usual, but, and this has nothing to do with the quality of their music, they really should change up the imagery on their movie screen. After the third show, we really don't need to watch floating white scribbles or feathers anymore. That being said, their encore was stellar. Emily Metric came out for the last song and the crowd bobbed their heads about as much as one can at a Stills show.
posted by jessica at 09:44 AM | Comments (2)
June 08, 2004
Some people stand in the darkness, afraid to step into the light
Oh, David Hasselhoff, how much further can your nonexistent star fall? Herr Baywatch has been arrested for drunk driving in our dear, sweet LA, drunk-driving capital of the west. The incident could, of course, be a bad-boy stunt to lend the necessary street-cred to his burgeoning career as a maven of the urban music scene, but we think this faux pas was a bit more genuine. Obviously, Hasselhoff erroneously left the KITT car at home, which could have autopiloted his drunk ass home to safety.
posted by jessica at 12:21 PM | Comments (4)
Well, sort of, but not exactly
Oh, is it Tuesday? Must be time for another sorority-insider book:
We can't imagine that any undercover outsider, the perspective from which Alexandra Robbins witnesses said flaunting, could accurately convey the nuances of sorority sauntering. Only after one has gone through the requisite drink-till-you-puke hazing, pledging, and gothic initiation rites can the implications of a sorority "sashay" be truly understood. An unremitting drag? Maybe if you have cellulose thighs, but otherwise, life on the inside is a constant kegstand in sisterhood. Yeah.
posted by jessica at 11:04 AM | Comments (1)
Too little, too late?
We'd always assumed it was pseudo-haute enough to have been online for ages, but Wallpaper magazine has just launched its interweb counterpart. Granted, there's not a lot of reading to be had on the site (and by "not a lot" we mean "virtually none whatsoever"), but you can look at the pretty things priced in pounds and long for a reversible SportMax bikini.
posted by jessica at 10:46 AM | Comments (0)
Making Franz Ferdinand look like football jocks
I've got it in my head that I (and all those misfortunate enough to be in my company) should exercise my last 2.5 weeks in Los Angeles to their fullest and, as such, it's completely appropriate bandy about 'till the wee hours nearly every night. This, of course, has had me feeling rather near-death at all times, but I digress. Last night we experienced the dancetastic Scissor Sisters--never before have we wanted so badly to be gay. The show was altogether too big, too sweaty, too over-the-top for Spaceland, but the crowd adjusted nicely and traded in their jaded scruff for an hour of sweaty disco flair. It's not too often that one sees a non-headlining act give an encore at Spaceland, but the Sisters pulled it off. Some say they're just a novelty, but they're a damn fun novelty nonetheless.
posted by jessica at 10:17 AM | Comments (1)
June 07, 2004
Every major industry should have one of these
We've spent far too many evenings as of late watching various chunks of Vh1's 100 Most Metal Moments, a thoroughly enlightening program that has lead us to sites such as this, in which groupies rank and describe the members of various metal band members they've bedded. We think it's fabulous, actually, and are encouraging similar projects in various studios and agencies. C'mon, Annie Assistant, tell me what kind of heat Les Moonves is packing (yeah, we know--ew).
posted by jessica at 12:11 PM | Comments (2)
This probably means he's not looking for her killer anymore
OJ Simpson, Private Investigator, goes on Fox News to give his two cents on the Kobe Bryant trial:
Finally, a rapist gentleman we can agree with! Right on, Juice, you know it's true--all girls want it, no matter how we might kick and scream and cry. Really, we do. In the same interview, Captain Eloquence also marks the 10th anniversary of ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson's "unsolved" murder by claiming he's pretty pissed off with her for not being around to help with the kids. Well, OJ, maybe you should've thought of the domestic burden you'd be bearing in her absence before you, um, got really mad that one night.
posted by jessica at 10:16 AM | Comments (1)
We only work when we need the money
Through a stroke of luck we managed to see two Franz Ferdinand concerts this weekend and couldn't be happier about it. Enduring the inevitable crowd of disaffected youth was well worth it. While the performance on Saturday was probably a bit better and more, er, flamboyant, the crowd was too mellow for the boys. Alex thus made comments along the lines of, "Here, maybe you can dance to this..." or, "You know, they danced in San Francisco!" Sunday's show, however, was a sweaty, throbbing mess of ass-shaking goodness, such that we almost thought we were at a rave of sorts. We flailed about like retarded banshees. Beers were spilt. Purses were dropped to the ground. Limbs were tangled. Fists were pumped to excess. It was, as they say, so much awesome.
posted by jessica at 09:35 AM | Comments (8)
June 04, 2004
Rethinking religion
We're inclined to think that, despite our half-breed Hebrew tendencies, Jesus maybe was a bit more on the pulse of things than we've given him credit for. After all, after years of their incessant thanking of Him for their inexplicable success, Creed has finally called it quits. We can only think that He had had quite enough of His name being used in association with such dreadful music and the making of videos that are simply beyond toleration and, in a fit of divine benevolence for the rest of the world, ended the band's existence.
We'll be at church on Sunday. Praise Him!
posted by jessica at 11:04 AM | Comments (2)
June 03, 2004
An inspiration to us all
As I'm sure you're all well aware, the National Spelling Bee is underway and I'm proud to announce its new hero: Akshay Buddiga. In what can only be described as a spelltasm, Buddiga fainted during his turn at the microphone of destruction. But wait! Buddiga rose from the ashes like a phoenix, only to spell "alopecoid" correctly! Hurrah! I propose a a national holiday for Akshay Buddiga, for overcoming adversity and hanging tough, even though his dork blood tried to bring him down!
posted by jessica at 11:20 AM | Comments (6)
Pooper scooper
Poor, poor Jeannette Walls. Instead of "delivering the scoop," she seems to be licking the bowels of someone who didn't finish their sloppy seconds. Today, her spies spot Penelope Cruz and Matthew McConaughey kissing. Well, no shit, Jeannette, we heard about that from pretty much everyone a few months ago. I feel badly, really--Jeannette was my first gossipy love, the one who broke me in and got me hooked. Alas, like all de-virginizing romances, I think it's time I move on.
And move on I will! 21 year-old Elisha Cuthbert is engaged to Justin Timberlake's personal assistant, Trace Ayala. Now, when Trace is done organizing JT's kicks, he can come home and rub his wife's feet. Cheers to you, Trace: you've nagged a gorgeous wife who's expecting you to be a good husband and a manservant.
posted by jessica at 10:35 AM | Comments (1)
Put the man out of his misery
What I wouldn't give for a scanner: it's For Your Consideration Emmy Season here in Hollyhell, and that means the covers of the trades are emblazoned daily with expensive ads. Today's front page gem is on The Hollywood Reporter and heralds that old reality show The Apprentice. The simple cover features a smiling image of the Donald and a single sentence:
The hair alone deserves an Emmy.
Hmm, I might have to disagree. The hair alone merits the slaughter of Donald in his sleep, thus making the world a little bit safer for our children.
posted by jessica at 10:19 AM | Comments (0)
Beyond Bristol
Unimaginative music reviews are my thing: if Portishead were American, they would sound a lot like 8mm, a new band to which I was kindly introduced. A little trip-hop, a little rock, and worth looking into. It's definitely good to read to on a rainy day. And, on a purely superficial note, the website has some cool design going for it.
posted by jessica at 10:07 AM | Comments (0)
June 02, 2004
Special Report: Illegal Clubs are Sketchy
Don't ask how we managed to get on the list a new and pretty-much-not-legal LA afterhours club, but we did. And, when presented with the opportunity to witness firsthand the successor to the infamous and now defunct afterhours known as Liberace's (once featured in Vanity Fair, soon overexposed by an undercover Fox News crew), we went for it. After all, it was our big chance to partake in the insane Hollywood scene that we always hear about but can never pinpoint. Not our scene, mind you, but you only live once and in a town where last call is 1:30 am, you're looking for something to do.
Not surpisingly, it's not so easy as to pull up to one of these venues and roll in. Rather, we were required to park in a pizzeria parking lot in an area overflowing with prostitutes and all of us, not just the driver, had to leave their keys with a very big man with a very big neck. Tents were set up for all of the guests to check in, pay for their admission, and receive their very rough pat-down and a thorough checking for cameras and camera phones. Once approved for admission, we were ushered into a shuttle and driven to the venue. For something occuring at 2:30 in the morning deep in Hollywood, the level of organization was surreal.
The club itself was located in an apartment above what may very well have been an Armenian cafeteria. The drinks were strong and included with your hefty price of admission. The music was awful, but for a mere $5, we got the DJ to play The Clash (that was the best he could do for us). There was also some gambling going on, but we don't know our card games, so we didn't care. And, of course, there were empty boxes of Ambien littered about, which provided a nice countereffect to the unabashed use of stimulants by everyone in the bathroom. The crowd, which was mostly eurotrash, only featured one trucker hat, but several upstanding nice ladies had their thongs pulled nice and high. Many of them might have been "working," but it was difficult to say. We met a man who was "from Switzerland" and ran "several laundromats around the world." Right. Security wore sunglasses and looked scary. We danced and laughed and maybe died a little on the inside.
At about 5 am, we caught one of the several rotating shuttles back to the pizzeria parking lot. The verdict: Interesting to see, probably won't go back. But then again, I require more trucker hats and less Ambien.
posted by jessica at 11:55 AM | Comments (9)
Obligatory eye-rolling
I really can't go more than 4 or 5 days without teasing poor Roger Friedman. It's just, well, he's so bad. At writing, I mean. Not that I'm the apex of articulation, but really, this lead sentence speaks for itself:
"Shaggy-haired rocker (I do not mean rocking chair) Rod Stewart is no fool."
You don't mean a rocking chair, Roger? Really? Are you sure? Because if Rod Stewart is no fool, then I'd have to say a rocking chair is equally not foolish. What is foolish, however, is the fact that you even get paid. My word.
posted by jessica at 11:25 AM | Comments (0)
I would like to xxxxx your xxxx
Am I the only one that completely forgot about the David Beckham Text Sex Scandal of Spring 2004? Granted celebrity "news" is fleeting at best, but that whole mess seemed to fade away awfully quick. Never one to let the spotlight completely fade despite the public's obvious disinterest, Becks is insisting he will love his emaciated, bobble-headed lollipop wife, Victoria, 4-eva, while SIMULTANEOUSLY appearing on the cover of Vanity Fair. That's right: Beckham can both love his wife and engage in naughty text sex with Graydon Carter. Is there anything the man can't do?
posted by jessica at 10:40 AM | Comments (0)
Look who's talking
Ladies and gents, it's PR retard--er, mastermind--Ken Sunshine. When his client, Justin Timberlake, is feeling a bit too much heat from the paparazzi, Ken knows it's time to use his best dramatic language and some do-or-die talk:
"The stakes seem to be bigger and the tailing of celebrities in cars is unbelievably dangerous. Somebody is going to get killed unless something is done about this."
First of all, Ken, someone did get killed a few years back. Duh. And while we might agree that recklessly tailing an Escalade-cruising fuckwit in pursuit of a blurry photograph is a bit dangerous, the consequences of not having said picture are far worse, Ken! Blank pages in US Weekly or Star are unacceptable and a detriment to fragile American morale!
[Ed: We're experiencing some extra craptastic problems with Typepad today. Eventually we'll set up hosting for that domain name we bought months ago and get the hell out of dodge.]
posted by jessica at 09:44 AM | Comments (0)
June 01, 2004
Breaking News: Entire Studio to Collapse
In a twist of fate leaving hundreds of assistants with absolutely nothing to fetch, the trusty espresso machine at our beloved cafe has broken. Faced with little more than a hand-written "Out of Order" sign taped to the single most important piece of equiptment on site, the studio has slowly started to crumble. Hundreds of executives have been spotted twitching without the help of their sole source of life-support; you can hear the cries of assistants being beaten within an inch of their life for failing to fix the machine themselves.
Things are getting tense here. The future is not set. Pitch your scripts with a complimentary latte, and you just might have a career.
posted by jessica at 12:57 PM | Comments (1)
When the apocalypse hits, Los Angeles will be the first to go
I willingly subjected myself to viewing The Day After Tomorrow over the holiday weekend and, sadly enough, found it wildly entertaining for all the wrong reasons. In fact, I knew I wasn't going to be moved in the slightest when the first meteorological disaster destroyed Los Angeles and I was struck with giggles. There's nothing more amusing than seeing people in Porsches get killed by tornadoes. Also, 20th Century Fox did an excellent job of making sure that all featured newscasts within the flick were local Fox stations. Holla, NewsCorp!
posted by jessica at 10:58 AM | Comments (1)
Bonnie Fuller awaits!
Dearest reader, I care about you. I'm concerned for your welfare, stability and, most importantly, your future. And, if you don't mind working with a ball gag in your mouth while wearing a leather mask, I think I might have a few MediaBistro job listings for you motivated go-getters. Don't worry about qualifications--it seems that almost after a month of being posted, no one's particularly chomping at the bit for these gigs at what one can safely assume is Star magazine. But, believe you me, I know that many a Blueprint reader will find these opportunities appealing. After all, "leading celebrity magazines" are sexxxy:
Full-Time Researcher, NYC
A leading celebrity magazine is seeking a Researcher with at least three years fact-checking/researching experience, preferably at a national weekly magazine. Superior knowledge of electronic based research tools and Lexis Nexis are required. Must be a self started, able to work well under intense deadlines and willing to work late hours.
Send resumes to:
1000 American Media Way
Boca Raton, FL 33464-1000 USA
Freelance Copy-Editors, NYC
A leading celebrity magazine is seeking seasoned copy editors with magazine copy editing and layout experience for freelance assignments. Responsibilities include copy editing stories for the weekly magazine and inputting changes into Quark XPress.
Current freelance opportunites are:
Monday - 11:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.
Friday - 1:00 p.m. to midnight
However, hours may vary depending on work load.
Send resumes to:
1000 American Media Way
Boca Raton, FL 33464-1000 USA
[Reg. req'd, but you don't really care anyhow.]
posted by jessica at 07:19 AM | Comments (1)
