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July 29, 2004
I'd go out tonight, but I haven't got a thing to wear
Requisite dumbass question: what and where are the good, inexpensive thrift/secondhand stores? I wandered around St. Mark's this weekend and had a seizure when I saw the prices. As cute as those vintage shoes were, I can't pay $45 for used footwear. Hit me with some suggestions, please!
posted by jessica at 08:02 AM | Comments (9)
July 26, 2004
Get this girl a gram, stat!
Mary-Kate has been released from rehab and is raring to go! We find it a little hard to believe that one can kick both cocaine and anorexia in six weeks, but more power to her for trying. Even better: she still intends to hit up NYU come fall -- and we know that college is the perfect place for one to nurture her mental health, right? We predict a rough year ahead for the Olsens and a financial surplus for any "ranch" in Utah.
posted by jessica at 10:26 AM | Comments (0)
July 25, 2004
Fear and loathing in Duane Reade
We thought we were all tough and ready to handle the big apple and blahblahblah, but we were completely flabbergasted when, upon a quick visit to our neighborhood Duane Reade on Delancey, we were accosted by The Piercing Blue Eyes of Death. Yes, we're talking about Vincent Gallo, who stared at us so long that we felt our spine spasm and thus ran to the back of the store. Sure, we make eye contact with lots of people, but Vincent Gallo holds your gaze about 17 minutes too long.
Brown Bunny, here we come.
posted by jessica at 07:42 PM | Comments (8)
July 23, 2004
Finally.
After a mere 6 months of planning and talking and hyping, I've moved to NYC. Actually, I've been here since Sunday, but the move itself has consumed every waking moment. The sixth floor walkup knows no mercy, I've learned, especially on the descent: I've fallen down the stairs not once, not twice, but three fucking times since Sunday. And yes, I was sober every single time. Keep an eye out for me on the street, I'm the one covered in bruises.
Back to blogging about dumb stuff and the royal use of "we":
We're still rather out of it in regards to who's who and what's what this week, but we're happy to report that our cohort, Judging Randy, and his lovely friend, Moss, have made some waves with their Save Mary Kate t-shirts, which were featured in yesterday's NYDN (can't find the link, strangely enough). Go buy a shirt--if not for the message, then do it for Randy, who's so poor that he's been stuck in the pre-op trannie stage for at least 4 years.
posted by jessica at 09:02 AM | Comments (6)
July 12, 2004
Urinating on young girls can do that to you
We all knew R. Kelly was a perv, but did you know he was a bonafide crazy perv? Yes, we had our suspicions, but R. Kelly outs himself as an imaginary veteran with a penchant for sleeping in tents in Damon Dash's guaranteed-to-be-gripping magazine, America. Nothing like decorating your pseudo-African studio with the smell of napalm:
posted by jessica at 10:39 AM | Comments (4)
July 07, 2004
Next up: the mathematical code for world peace
It was really a matter of time before some brilliantly retarded, obsessive-compulsive kids decided to put a formula on the indie je ne sais quoi. The jury is still out as to whether or not this power will be used for good or evil, but science has cruised an indie rock show and discovered The Most Indie Number to be 14.2ish. Ah, but the methodology! What of that? We think it looks pretty solid:
S = Sum of Shirt Numbers
J = Number of Jerks
I = Indie
S / J = I
Yeah, that seems right.
[Thanks to AM for the content, which we can't seem to find ourselves anymore.]
posted by jessica at 08:52 AM | Comments (2)
July 06, 2004
Fine moments in tabloid graphics
The National Enquirer gets all PSA on its latest cover regarding poor cokey princess, Mary Kate Olsen. Yes, yes, we all know it's COCAINE, but maybe we don't quite understand how dramatic cocaine is--so the fine folks have underlined that nasty drug word just for emphasis. The underline itself, however? A giant, fat rail. Kind of like the ones that got MK in trouble.
Hey, at least now we'll know cocaine when we see it, and we can run away! Just say no! Thanks, Enquirer!
posted by jessica at 01:38 PM | Comments (5)
If Michael Eisner exposed himself to you, you'd do the same thing.
Harvey Weinstein is rumored to be scampering away from his doughnut-supplying Miramax juggernaut! While it's easy to assume this has to do with the Disney's half-nelson grip on Miramax (really, who wants to be associated with a pedophile mouse these days?), we'd like to believe that it came down to a violent disagreement over which exec was more jewish. You've got to set yourself apart in kosher Hollywood, and a bloodbath over the challah doesn't seem that unrealistic.*
*We're just getting back into the swing of things, so forgive us for going with the obligatory Jew joke. Creativity to kick in eventually. Er, probably not. Whatever.
posted by jessica at 09:28 AM | Comments (0)
Politics schmolitics
We'll keep our ill-informed political beliefs to ourselves, but we did let a small yelp of glee escape our mouth when we saw that Kerry has picked Edwards as his running mate. May the junior senator's fresh and sunny face shine upon the clouded jowels of Massachusetts!
posted by jessica at 08:37 AM | Comments (0)
July 05, 2004
And we're back...ish
We're happy to report that we have more or less survived our escape from LA and the resulting drive across gorgeous mesas and hideous flatness, all of which has been loosely defined as "the heartland." Now we're writing from a casual holding cell in a lovely suburb of Detroit Rock City, where we'll be spending less than two weeks fretting about the imminent touchdown on that overpopulated island. Hand-wringing does, of course, get boring after a bit, so we're back to blogging for now. Whoopdeedo.
We're feeling rather out of touch, having only heard snippets of news the past few weeks, so please be forgiving if we're slow to accept the shocking news that Naomi Campbell may indeed be a brat, MK Olsen is a cokewhore, and an evil swan is plaguing the pretty people of the Hamptons. Our cold exterior is particularly shaken by the latter report. It must be rather terrifying for the sweater set crew to discover that swans are not just reality show freaks or ice sculptures, but actual, icky birds. Ew, indeed.
posted by jessica at 11:31 AM | Comments (0)
