Firstly, I went and saw the movie Choke with Brian, Lawrence, and Mer this past weekend. It was hysterically funny. Highly, highly reccomend. More humorous, less dark than the book.

I said a while back that i’d post my drunken pics from that clothing release party for Erin Wasson’s new line a few weeks ago… here’s what I have:

The party took place literally one block from my old apt, it was nice to see the old hood, still somewhat the same hood. Hello, old parking lot I walked through every day to get to the F train!

The party was sprinkled with lotsa pictures of Erin, being the obvs choice to model for her own clothing line…

And a backyark full of whitened teeth, free tacos, and open bar belvedere.

Attendees included:

Shruti

Noot Seear

Erin(the model/designer), Dan, and Evan

Erin’s mom (you can see where the nice features come from!), and Sean…

Then there was a rustle from the rooftop above. Who could it be?

It could have been Justin Timberlake (Erin and Justin worked together on his new clothing line)

But no, just the good ol’ fire dept, there to regulate shtuffs.

… and grab a drink or two… mingle with the plethora of supermodels stumbling around…

good times.

Then, the other day, one of my buddies had an end of summer bbq. It was held at his parents SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET tribecca 3-story pie-in-the-sky apt, but really, I couldn’t stop staring at this dr. seuss plant. It was alive!

LOOKIT! (click this one to enlarge deets)

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! 

And finally, some pics from my daily commute:

The ducks that hang out by the river.

Yes, this trash at the foot of the train next to the cigarette butt reads “Garbage: Will It Bury Us???”

I don’t know, AWAKE! magazine, will it?!

I was alerted to this by my NY fashion correspondent.

A. It is called the ‘Dread Jacket,’ which makes sense no matter which definition of dread you are using. And it was made by the label Elizabeth & James, a.k.a. the Olsen twins. Of course.

B. This jacket costs $695. Yes, I know. I know. But seriously, there are a lot of hidden costs that go into this. For instance, I bet dreading a sheep takes a lot of effort. Then you’ve got to pay someone to formulate just the right color of baby-shit brown and to come up with the name “Fume” (no, really). And then there is the mountain of cocaine that the Olsen twins consumed while “sketching.” In fact, for all we know, a stray hairball drifted onto the design table and begat this. Also, this immediately makes me think of Rolf from the Muppets. I pray he was not harmed in the making of this … thing.

In conclusion, and to hijack and edit a quote from Clueless, it is one thing to spark up a doobie and get laced at parties, but it is quite another to actually wear Bob Marley.

These are a few of the embarrassingly awesome ways I have been entertaining myself lately.

Remember the scene in “Grease” when Sandy goes out on the porch in her nightgown and sings “Hopelessly Devoted To You” to a imaginary vision of Danny? I totally get like that when it comes to Axl Rose, which is why I’m currently reading “Watch You Bleed: The Saga of Guns N’ Roses.” This is the first book about the band I have actually read (I know, hard to believe), mostly because it is written by the dude who wrote “Hammer of the Gods” about Led Zeppelin, which makes him like the Hemingway of rock biographers. So, of course I had to buy the stupid book in HARD COVER and read it like the cure for cancer was hidden inside. The book is not telling me anything I didn’t already know, except that Slash’s mom was a costume designer for Chaka Khan and dated David Bowie during his Thin White Duke phase. If anyone ever had questions as to why Slash was a fuck up, I think I just uncovered the answer. Crazy, drugged up street kids with lots of attitude and ego become the greatest band on earth…blahblahblah. I like the pictures.

I totally love Quentin Tarantino movies, mostly for the amazing soundtracks. When it comes to resurrecting completely obscure songs, he is the King in my book. Dusty Springfield, Al Green and the dude who sings “Stuck in the Middle With You” should honestly kiss his big hairy ass. One of the best picks yet is the song “Hold Tight” from the infamous crash scene in “Grindhouse: Deathproof”. The song is by a random 1960’s band called “Dave, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich” so I wanted to check out this band on youtube, and came to find the most hilariously retarded video ever made. I love it. I think a current group should make a video exactly like this. I don’t know what is more riveting- watching the gory car crash scene in Deathproof, or a group of grown men on a see saw and carousel. I can’t stop looking.

Watching people get knocked over is tops for me. I think it fucking hilarious. I know it’s a pretty lowbrow form of entertainment, but I’m not above it. Now add a bunch of assholes dressed in silver bodysuits being pushed into a pool of urine by a Styrofoam wall and you’ve got “Hole in the Wall”, the best show I know.  Genius concepts like this can only be the brain child of the glorious Japanese people, who clearly have the most acute grasp of human behavior. I’m starting to think Japan is the place for me-I’ll get to eat wasabi Doritos, wear two pigtails and hot pink tights with leg warmers (adults do that there, right?) and watch people eat scorpions on TV. HEAVEN!!!!

I have been away this past week, well, not away so much as spending every waking hour looking for the perfect new (non gas-guzzling) ride (since nobody’s buying anything right now, it’s a good time to get that car you’ve always wanted, granted that you’re not about to get laid off, of course… what, me worry?), watching gossip girl like every grown-up does, and my new favorite hobby of mixing herbs that I pick up at the health food store and seeing what happens (fyi, 1 packet acai berry emergen c + 2 cups Alvita Orange Chinese Green Tea + 2 iron suppliments + 1 ginger root suppliment = crack (as a side effect, my ear drums start twitching).

 Anyway, things that bring me down from my suppliment-addled highs:

- Duffy. WHY is she relevant? Is it because her name is Duffy? Is it her calligraphy? Every time her dumb-as-fuck song comes on I feel days of life slipping from my body. I haven’t been this turned off by a fermale artist since Joss Stone.

- Billy Mays and his stupid voice and his stupid infomercials that come on during my special TV hour every night and instantaniously give me migraines.

- In the midst of this extraordinarily stressful economic time (and in the midst of looking for a sweet, sweet undervalued ride) getting a letter from the IRS claiming that I owe them $4,845(!!!) in taxes from 2006. This is why I pay some dude $200 a year to do my taxes for me, so I don’t get letters like this. Either the IRS is trying to pull something to get some extra change in their shallow purse, or I need to go find a new tax guy.  Either way, that’s like 6 months off my life right there, neatly packed away in an envelope.

Aaaand things the one thing that makes it all better:

Kings of Leon frontman Caleb Followill’s new hair cut/look, as beautifully performed on SNL this week:

He’s like a cross between Michael Pitt and Ryder Strong circa boy meets world. I would be alright with all men as a collective unit if they all decided to get this haircut.

And let’s see some befores of Caleb:

Eeeesh.

Are you for realling me? Clay Aiken announced he is gay to People magazine and quite frankly, I am stunned. I’m not surprised so much that he’s gay, but that he finally admitted it. I guess he got sick of 60 year old Pillsbury pie crust enthusiasts in sparkly knits pawing at his peener and throwing their spanx at his luscious strawberry locks. I bet he would have kept it a secret for all eternity if not for those ol’ kooky flab ass “Claymates”.
Awww, what of the Claymates? I think they are probably taking the news real hard and having a big cry over a crock pot of beef stew in their apple wallpapered kitchens. I bet they are all sending pseudo supportive emails, like “Good for you, Clay! Jesus will try to still love you!!!!”
Clay’s sexuality had been one of the things that kept me up at night- just like who shot Kennedy? How (why) is Scott Weiland still alive? What is actually happening on Lost??- I’m just glad that we cleared all that uncertainty up. Go back to your jobs, people! We can all rest easy now.
 

There is a lot of talk about Angelina’s riveting performance in some movie called “The Changeling” that I am sure I will never ever see. I have noticed that whenever she has a role that does not require her to wear a black body suit and seductively run over, shoot or karate chop someone, everyone says they “smell” an Oscar. You know what I smell when I see Angelina? A pretty high dosage of Lithium. I don’t know Angelina personally, but let’s just say I know her type. She’s the girl who showed up to college wearing men’s shoes, hiding behind her unwashed hair, only to have an awakening that included lots of cocaine, belly shirts and exhibitionist lesbian antics. This scene ends with her dating the campus dealer and always smoking cigarettes naked in his bed while he conducts business.
Of course, scene 2 is after she graduates when she gets a great apartment in Union Square and a job her daddy hooked up for her. Enter old money boyfriend and zing zang zoom- she’s spending the rest of her life picking out toile drapes for her Hamptons house, donating her time to charitable causes and sleeping with her mediation guru.
YEEHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.  MONDAY!

Cleeck!

Not this movie, this picture is simply gratuitous. 

Sometimes a certain kind of movie comes out, and I’m all like “Who the hell is going to see this?” A perfect example is the upcoming Richard Gere/Diane Lane movie “Nights in Rodanthe.” It looks like a sappy 2 hour erectile dysfunction commercial. Yes, those two were in “Unfaithful” together, which is probably one of THE BEST cheating movies ever made. It really made me want to find a European book dealer in Soho and have an affair. I would be a little more discreet than that moron though, like not using EZ Pass or—–ahem, I digress. However, I once was sitting like 2 inches away from Richard Gere at a restaurant and had to hold myself back from yelling, “Why the hell did you have to go and kill that hot French dude???? You really fucked everything up!” I didn’t do it, of course. Instead, I just screamed “Gerbil stuffer!!” and grabbed the bread off his table and made a run for it.
Good times.
So, it’s a movie like this- a romantic, predictable film about two sad, pretty, old people who try to fight falling in love with each other in a misty, seaside location. Tears. Applause. WAWAWA. I really wanted to know the demographic these movies are geared towards. Here are some of the initial reviews I found for the movie, which pretty much says it all:

“9 Out of 10 Non Senile Octogenarians Agree: ‘Nights in Rodanthe’ Is A Lovely Story and Montgomery Clift Still Looks Great.”

“88% of QVC Impulse Shoppers Say: ‘Nights in Rodanthe’ Is Glorious and Diane Lane’s Short Hairdo is Heaven Sent!!”

“All the Patients at The Sleep Disorder Center say “I Highly Recommend ‘Nights at Rodanthe’ to Anyone Struggling With Insomnia.”

In a nutshell, movies with Richard Gere, exclusive real estate (beaches, Westchester, etc), make out sessions in rain (snow) storms appeal to the following groups- the elderly, women with substantial credit card debt, insomniacs, people with perms and holiday sweaters, and I’ll add people who still listen to Simon and Garfunkel, and the occasional misinformed guy who thinks he’ll get some action afterwards.
Thank you, I’m just doing my part.

OMG y’all, I have totally dropped the ball on this Project Runway blogging. But you know? Some things have come up. Like:

•  America’s Next Top Model is on right before PR and I have to watch it on my non-cable TV and then sprint over to my Dad’s house in Brooklyn Heights to watch his DVR . Also ANTM has a tranny this season! And I often drink alot while watching Tyra, so by the time I skitter over to my Dad’s I am half in the bag.
• I have to find time to watch Gossip Girl and The Hills on my iPod nano. It is actually quite a lot of work. And on GG they hired this terrible actor to play a totally implausible British Lord and his accent sucks (as he is not actually British) and every time he comes onscreen I have to dry heave for 5 minutes and then drink some water.
• I had to wash my hair. No, really, it’s been gross lately. I tried to cut my own hair because I’m poor, but instead of “layering” it I accidentally cut myself faux-bangs and my entire head area is a hot mess.

Also, can I just say — and please testify if you feel me on this — that the designers this season are totally meh. They’re not that good, they’re not that interesting … they’re not that fun to write about.  Still, I will attempt to  fulfill my promise to blog out the rest of the season.  Last week the designers had to be avant garde and make outfits corresponding to their astrological signs. Also they had to pick one of the recently auf’ed designers to “help” them, and by help I mean hinder. I mean, look at these. This is like week 7. And what do we have to show for it? 

A sad Pocahontas reject from EuroDisney …

Forever 21 for Payless’s new line of harem pants and jazz shoes …

Attack of the Velveteen Commas …

Streamer Queen, the Party City mascot …

um … Diana Ross? No! A Fudgsicle! …

Mrs. Peacock, in the library, without a stylist …

Betsey Johnson’s full body harness-slash-colostomy bag …

… and plaid-and-leather-on-florals-induced elephantitis of the shoulders.

Leanne’s (the black-and-red “Scorpion”) was the clear winner, but she had already won twice in a row, so the prize went to Jerell’s evening tweed-with-halo monstrosity. THANK GOD two of these fools went home instead of just one. Quite frankly, they all sucked, but Suede or Joe should have gone home instead of Terri. Blayne was just asking for it with those cotton-candy intestines. And Kenley — tear one of those shoulders off and beat yourself with it. Thank you.

At this point if anyone but Leanne or Korto advances I am gonna be pissed. Maybe the other 4 can all be auf’ed tonight? Fingers crossed!

The Sarah Palin baby name generator!!!

 I would be “Filter Skate Palin” 

Source: BWE