I have read so many year-end lists the last few weeks - best and worst movies of 2006, best and worst albums of 2006, most annoying celebrities, celebrities we love the most, best media moments of 2006, biggest whores of the year, the list goes on- that I decided to create one of my own.
I had to think for a minute about what I would write about. What matters so much to me that I care enough to create a list about it...and I finally settled on people I am over. People that I can't stand and people that are close to being people I can't stand.
So, without further ado, Lia's List of People She is So Over in 2006 into 2007.
1.) Jamie Foxx: At home in Boca over the break I watched a number of old In Living Color episodes and remembered why I liked Jamie Foxx. Then Jamie Foxx did the movie Ray, won the Golden Globe and the Oscar, appeared on Kanye West's Golddigger and became a giant a-hole. Whenever you see Jamie now he's talking about how talented he is and thanking his grandmother who's been dead for like two years. He is so cocky now that I wouldn't be surprised if testicles actually started growing from his neck. I hate him and will continue to do so.
2.) Britney Spears: I'm pretty sure this doesn't really require an explanation but can tell you the only capacity in which I'd like to see Britney Spears in 2007. All I can hope is that some producer does not give Britney some amazing beat that she can pant/breathe over and call it a song. I can only pray that said song does not shoot to #1 and everyone declares Britney's comeback for real. What I do hope is that she goes on some drug-and-alcohol induced binge for like a week, has sex with someone like Bubba Sparxx and gets pregnant again, thereby taking away all chances of us ever having to endure her. Or that the media gets a clue and just stops putting her on TV all together.
3.) Madonna: Such a self-important bitch. I really can't stand her anymore and haven't been able to for some time. She's trying to be Angelina, but there is only room for one Angelina in this world, and Angelina Jolie has already claimed it.
4.) Paris Hilton: I have never understood this. She has a lazy eye for god sakes! Like, a really bad lazy eye!
5.) Tom Cruise: If only we could have lived in Top Gun and Jerry McGuire forever! In 2006, all Tom Cruise did was prove he is no more than a talented, crazy, midget.
6.) Sharon Stone: Another one who thinks she is just so awesome, yet she looks like a witch in bad need of more Botox. I just can't stand her. She had one movie that was big. And only because she showed her vagina. I know she does a lot for AIDS research, that's commendable, but she's famous for showing her vagina. In a movie. A very long time ago.
7.) Sela Ward: There are probably only like five people who read this and know who she is, but for some unknown reason I just hate this woman. That's not going to change just because its 2007.
8.) Original Gym Boyfriend. With all the new Gym Boyfriends I have, I just felt the need to repeat that I don't need him anymore. In all his hotness. Even if I think he is broken up with his girlfriend. We're over!
9.) McWigger: Just because. Fuck him.
People Who Are on the Brink:
1.) Lindsay Lohan: I really want Lindsay Lohan to make it because I think she is truly talented. But she has to get her act together like ASAP. I think her mom should start acting a bit more like a mom and a lot less like a best friend. Team Lohan in 2007!
2.) Perez Hilton: For reasons previously mentioned.
3.) Gwen Stefani: Another one who just may be creeping onto the self-important side. I'll give her this year to see if we can still be friends.
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Best Bad Date Story in a While...and Not Mine
I realize my blog is totally boring in the absence of bad dates and my drunken mistakes. I mean, does anyone really care about my seeing the Nutcracker? Is the coolest thing I had to say the other day that the French toast bagel at Starbucks is amazing? I mean, it totally is, but that’s the stuff suburban moms would/should blog about. I am not there yet.
The good news is, when I enter this void, I have friends who fill it with their own adventures – drunken and otherwise – and share those stories with me so that I can post them online for the world to read.
So a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless to protect her identity among those who may read this and know her (and no she is not one of my roommates) has been semi-dating a boy who is in her circle of friends. About a month ago, they were at a birthday party of another friend and were drinking heavily. He realllllly likes her, so he didn’t leave her side the whole night and pretty soon, moves were made. He asked her, once the party had ended, if she wanted to come back to his place and she said yes.
Back at his house, things continued as they often do in those situations, I’ll let you use your imagination …but things didn’t get too far because my friend had her monthly visitor. So…at this point, the kid is very eager to please her and in his excitement scratches her pretty badly across a mole she has on her chest, right under her breast. She knew that it hurt really bad, but she was drunk and therefore, it didn’t hurt as much as she knew it would the next day.
So fast forward to the morning, he is sleeping and she sneaks off, jumps in a cab and goes home. When she is home, she goes to get the shower and sees that her entire stomach area is covered in blood. She freaks out because she has no idea where the blood came from until she looks and her mole is COMPLETELY GONE. The kid had ripped it completely off the night before!
As soon as she realizes this, she begins to freak out because now that she’s aware that its gone she realizes how painful it is. But then… she thinks back to when she was gathering her things and realizes that there were spots on his sheets. In her tiredness and in the faint light she hadn’t given it much thought but THEN, not only does she realize it was her own blood but she realizes that he is NEVER going to know that he ripped off her mole – and instead is going to think that she bled on his bed because of her period!
Now she freaks out again because this is a lose-lose situation! She can’t call him and say, hey, um I just want you to know that I didn’t bleed from my vagina all over your sheets, you actually just ripped off my mole from my body. And if she says nothing than she never addresses, one way or another, that she left blood on his bed! Awful!
So we’re sitting at brunch and she tells us this story and me and my other friend who were listening, we can’t help it, we double over. Like tears coming out of my eyes all over the place laughing. I literally cried off all of the makeup I had put on.
The worst part is that because of the holidays, I haven’t talked to her since this story so I have no idea what the resolution was…but I’ll find out. Stay tuned.
The good news is, when I enter this void, I have friends who fill it with their own adventures – drunken and otherwise – and share those stories with me so that I can post them online for the world to read.
So a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless to protect her identity among those who may read this and know her (and no she is not one of my roommates) has been semi-dating a boy who is in her circle of friends. About a month ago, they were at a birthday party of another friend and were drinking heavily. He realllllly likes her, so he didn’t leave her side the whole night and pretty soon, moves were made. He asked her, once the party had ended, if she wanted to come back to his place and she said yes.
Back at his house, things continued as they often do in those situations, I’ll let you use your imagination …but things didn’t get too far because my friend had her monthly visitor. So…at this point, the kid is very eager to please her and in his excitement scratches her pretty badly across a mole she has on her chest, right under her breast. She knew that it hurt really bad, but she was drunk and therefore, it didn’t hurt as much as she knew it would the next day.
So fast forward to the morning, he is sleeping and she sneaks off, jumps in a cab and goes home. When she is home, she goes to get the shower and sees that her entire stomach area is covered in blood. She freaks out because she has no idea where the blood came from until she looks and her mole is COMPLETELY GONE. The kid had ripped it completely off the night before!
As soon as she realizes this, she begins to freak out because now that she’s aware that its gone she realizes how painful it is. But then… she thinks back to when she was gathering her things and realizes that there were spots on his sheets. In her tiredness and in the faint light she hadn’t given it much thought but THEN, not only does she realize it was her own blood but she realizes that he is NEVER going to know that he ripped off her mole – and instead is going to think that she bled on his bed because of her period!
Now she freaks out again because this is a lose-lose situation! She can’t call him and say, hey, um I just want you to know that I didn’t bleed from my vagina all over your sheets, you actually just ripped off my mole from my body. And if she says nothing than she never addresses, one way or another, that she left blood on his bed! Awful!
So we’re sitting at brunch and she tells us this story and me and my other friend who were listening, we can’t help it, we double over. Like tears coming out of my eyes all over the place laughing. I literally cried off all of the makeup I had put on.
The worst part is that because of the holidays, I haven’t talked to her since this story so I have no idea what the resolution was…but I’ll find out. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Starbucks and the Nutcracker...or Starcracker?
I think my love of combining words has been taken too far.
Anyways, this month I've been working in an office just across the street from Macy's, H&M, Forever 21 and Old Navy. It's only through Christmas miracles that I have not gone bankrupt yet. It's also worth mentioning that around the corner is also Sephora, Lush, Victoria's Secret, Steve & Barry's....and the entire remainder of the Manhattan Mall.
Interestingly enough, despite my desire to do otherwise, I have not spent my entire checking account in any of these places. Instead, I've chosen to spend on something that gives back to me mentally and physically - Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts.
Depending on line length, I have switched between these two venues for my morning cup of coffee and bagel. During this time, I've discovered the French Toast bagel at Starbucks which is nothing short of amazing. "A dancing plethora on my pallette," if you will - to combine and paraphrase two Dane Cook jokes.
The Nutcracker
If you ever have the chance to be in New York at Christmastime, this is a must! I have to say I was a little bit out of the Christmas spirit..just because it hasn't been too chilly, I still have shopping yet to do and we didn't have a Christmas tree this year. But seeing this beautiful show perked me right up and got me right into the spirit. It's so gorgeous and so amazing. Me, A. and K. realllllllllly had to restrain ourselves from doing pirohouttes out the door, which thank god we did since every little girl outside was doing that and we would have looked like a-holes.
Speaking of hilarious...
The other day I posted one of the funniest SNL skits I'd seen in a while, until I also got my hands on this from the same episode. Hilarious! Justin Timberlake is amazing....AMAZING! My new hero. I love him. I can't WAIT to see him in February in concert. I'm going to cry tears of joy again, just like I did when I saw Shaki. I can feel it.
*note, this can be even funnier if the sound is off. just watching him dance in that costume is hilarious.
Anyways, this month I've been working in an office just across the street from Macy's, H&M, Forever 21 and Old Navy. It's only through Christmas miracles that I have not gone bankrupt yet. It's also worth mentioning that around the corner is also Sephora, Lush, Victoria's Secret, Steve & Barry's....and the entire remainder of the Manhattan Mall.
Interestingly enough, despite my desire to do otherwise, I have not spent my entire checking account in any of these places. Instead, I've chosen to spend on something that gives back to me mentally and physically - Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts.
Depending on line length, I have switched between these two venues for my morning cup of coffee and bagel. During this time, I've discovered the French Toast bagel at Starbucks which is nothing short of amazing. "A dancing plethora on my pallette," if you will - to combine and paraphrase two Dane Cook jokes.
The Nutcracker
If you ever have the chance to be in New York at Christmastime, this is a must! I have to say I was a little bit out of the Christmas spirit..just because it hasn't been too chilly, I still have shopping yet to do and we didn't have a Christmas tree this year. But seeing this beautiful show perked me right up and got me right into the spirit. It's so gorgeous and so amazing. Me, A. and K. realllllllllly had to restrain ourselves from doing pirohouttes out the door, which thank god we did since every little girl outside was doing that and we would have looked like a-holes.
Speaking of hilarious...
The other day I posted one of the funniest SNL skits I'd seen in a while, until I also got my hands on this from the same episode. Hilarious! Justin Timberlake is amazing....AMAZING! My new hero. I love him. I can't WAIT to see him in February in concert. I'm going to cry tears of joy again, just like I did when I saw Shaki. I can feel it.
*note, this can be even funnier if the sound is off. just watching him dance in that costume is hilarious.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Am I Over Perez?
I think I might be. Don't get me wrong, I'm still going to read his site because I think he breaks celeb news better and faster than anyone in Hollywood, but I think I'm over him.
This all kind of started back in June when I had to do a project that required me to go to a gifting suite at the MTV VMA's. This was the night I met Snoop Dogg, aka the greatest moment ever, so nothing that happened after that was going to bring me down. In any case, the last "celeb" to walk through was Perez. Now, at this point, I was a huge fan. I had referred sooo many people to his site, which I had been following since before it was perezhilton.com, when it was pagesixsixsix.com, and I just thought that they way he was making the blogosphere a credible way of getting news out there was admirable.
Anyways, he comes to our booth and I tell him that I really like his work, that I've been a follower, blah blah and how I also appreciate the South Florida references he throws in from time to time. To which he replies, oh, where in south florida are you from? and to which I say, boca raton and he says, in a suuuuuuuuuuuuper snotty voice, "that's not south florida."
First of all, I hate this. People say this all the time and its not true. The southern part of Palm Beach County is South Florida. The northern part is not, because some people have southern accents and I find that contradictory to what South Florida stands for - beaches, Cubans and people from Long Island and New Jersey in retirement.
Second, if I'm sitting here, complimenting you, letting you know that its because of people like me, that you are you, how are you going to turn around and act like a jerk? Anyways, I promptly cut our conversation off and handed him his product. Then me and my colleague went and got a martini and bitched that he was a bitch.
So, since then I've kind of cooled my adoration, but I was still a fan, but lately, Perez is putting up more news about himself than he does about celebs. I don't know, I get it, it's part of his gig, but seriously, I'm kind of getting tired of it. Maybe put up a media section, and remind people once a week that X, Y and Z mags have profiled you.
And...not that I'm saying like 20 posts a day, instead of 30-40 isn't good enough, but lately Perez has been slacking on the new news. When it was a slow gossip day, he'd put up funny photos or funny videos...now it's like his own merchandise or video of him on Geraldo at Large..and while I've heard Geraldo at Large is one of the fastest growing news magazines on air, I still dont' care. It's still Geraldo and quite frankly, I've read all the other pieces on Perez at this point, I don't think he's going to reveal anything Earth shattering. His story is pretty black-and-white, besides his whole mission of outing closeted celebs (another post entirely), he's a blogger who hit the big time. Pure and simple. Now let's get back to what made him so fun to begin with - his gossip about celebrities...not his own new brand of celebrity.
It's what I like to think of as the Oprah complex. Like Oprah, who is forever tooting her own horn on all the good works she does (and not that it takes away from the good works, I'm just saying she talks an awful lot about herself)...if Perez talks about himself, if Oprah talks about herself...is that why they are Perez and Oprah - because unless they are talking about it everyday, the chances of someone else doing so are slim to none? Is self-promotion the best kind? Should I be posting pictures of myself from my hospital opening in South Africa last year? Should I have posted the photo of me rescuing orphaned dogs and cats in Hurricane Katrina? Should I stop putting celebrities on the cover of my magazine and put my own face on there every month? Maybe so...
I'm headed off to Malawi for the holiday then, to adopt David Banda's little brother and sister, I'll make sure to have the news cameras not far behind. Stay tuned.
This all kind of started back in June when I had to do a project that required me to go to a gifting suite at the MTV VMA's. This was the night I met Snoop Dogg, aka the greatest moment ever, so nothing that happened after that was going to bring me down. In any case, the last "celeb" to walk through was Perez. Now, at this point, I was a huge fan. I had referred sooo many people to his site, which I had been following since before it was perezhilton.com, when it was pagesixsixsix.com, and I just thought that they way he was making the blogosphere a credible way of getting news out there was admirable.
Anyways, he comes to our booth and I tell him that I really like his work, that I've been a follower, blah blah and how I also appreciate the South Florida references he throws in from time to time. To which he replies, oh, where in south florida are you from? and to which I say, boca raton and he says, in a suuuuuuuuuuuuper snotty voice, "that's not south florida."
First of all, I hate this. People say this all the time and its not true. The southern part of Palm Beach County is South Florida. The northern part is not, because some people have southern accents and I find that contradictory to what South Florida stands for - beaches, Cubans and people from Long Island and New Jersey in retirement.
Second, if I'm sitting here, complimenting you, letting you know that its because of people like me, that you are you, how are you going to turn around and act like a jerk? Anyways, I promptly cut our conversation off and handed him his product. Then me and my colleague went and got a martini and bitched that he was a bitch.
So, since then I've kind of cooled my adoration, but I was still a fan, but lately, Perez is putting up more news about himself than he does about celebs. I don't know, I get it, it's part of his gig, but seriously, I'm kind of getting tired of it. Maybe put up a media section, and remind people once a week that X, Y and Z mags have profiled you.
And...not that I'm saying like 20 posts a day, instead of 30-40 isn't good enough, but lately Perez has been slacking on the new news. When it was a slow gossip day, he'd put up funny photos or funny videos...now it's like his own merchandise or video of him on Geraldo at Large..and while I've heard Geraldo at Large is one of the fastest growing news magazines on air, I still dont' care. It's still Geraldo and quite frankly, I've read all the other pieces on Perez at this point, I don't think he's going to reveal anything Earth shattering. His story is pretty black-and-white, besides his whole mission of outing closeted celebs (another post entirely), he's a blogger who hit the big time. Pure and simple. Now let's get back to what made him so fun to begin with - his gossip about celebrities...not his own new brand of celebrity.
It's what I like to think of as the Oprah complex. Like Oprah, who is forever tooting her own horn on all the good works she does (and not that it takes away from the good works, I'm just saying she talks an awful lot about herself)...if Perez talks about himself, if Oprah talks about herself...is that why they are Perez and Oprah - because unless they are talking about it everyday, the chances of someone else doing so are slim to none? Is self-promotion the best kind? Should I be posting pictures of myself from my hospital opening in South Africa last year? Should I have posted the photo of me rescuing orphaned dogs and cats in Hurricane Katrina? Should I stop putting celebrities on the cover of my magazine and put my own face on there every month? Maybe so...
I'm headed off to Malawi for the holiday then, to adopt David Banda's little brother and sister, I'll make sure to have the news cameras not far behind. Stay tuned.
Another Mouse in the House, Hilarity Does NOT Ensue
A few weeks ago, I had the chance to do something that was not really fun. I was woken up at 9:30 a.m., after going to sleep/passing out at 4 a.m., by the sound of my roommate making a sound not unlike what I imagine chimpanzees having sex would sound like. Kind of a "ooooh oooh oooh" sound, interspersed with "oh no's." I guess that means the chimpanzees would have to know how to speak. Maybe they'd be special chimpanzees, the kind you can teach sign language to, for example. Anyways, I figured one of two things had happened when I woke up out of a dead sleep to hear this noise. One would be that she really got hurt or something. The other would be that the mouse that we've suspected was in the house had been caught. Actually, we didn't suspect. We knew. He'd peeked out from under the stove a couple times over the two weeks prior. When P. and A. saw him there were screams and then a phone call to me. Met by me, he received the usual greeting of "Get the fuck out of our house!" Anyways, I hear this noise and then I hear a knock on the door and P. going "Liaaaaaaaaaaa, Liaaaaaaaaaa. Please wake up. Please. Now."
So I get up and she points down and there is a teeny tiny mouse caught in a glue trap on the side of the refrigerator. It was Sunday morning. I had no contacts in. I had no idea where my glasses were and the best I could do was open one eye halfway. Having learned my lesson from the last time, I shuffle over to the dustpan, slide the mouse and trap onto the pan with the paint roller extender, and leave them there on the ground while I grab a plastic bag. I do manage to get a glance at P. who is look at me with mouth half-open since at this point, I have yet to say a word. Not because I was mad or anything but because I was so exhausted.
I grab a plastic bag, flip the mouse and trap into the bag - but not before my curiousity gets the best of me and I lean in for a closer look at our little friend. I was sad to find he was absolutely adorable. P.'s mouth is agape at this point and I finally get out the word "awwww." She is like get him out of here now. And then she calls me a freak.
So I bring him downstairs and put him in the regular garbage can to meet his fate. No beatings, no screaming, no running outside at breakneck speed. I have officially become the Mouse Queen...which is fitting since tonight I am going to see the Nutcracker and I believe there is a character called the Rat King or Mouse King or something like that. Perhaps there is a slim chance the ballet dancer in this role will call me up on stage and we can do a mouse tango together.
So I get up and she points down and there is a teeny tiny mouse caught in a glue trap on the side of the refrigerator. It was Sunday morning. I had no contacts in. I had no idea where my glasses were and the best I could do was open one eye halfway. Having learned my lesson from the last time, I shuffle over to the dustpan, slide the mouse and trap onto the pan with the paint roller extender, and leave them there on the ground while I grab a plastic bag. I do manage to get a glance at P. who is look at me with mouth half-open since at this point, I have yet to say a word. Not because I was mad or anything but because I was so exhausted.
I grab a plastic bag, flip the mouse and trap into the bag - but not before my curiousity gets the best of me and I lean in for a closer look at our little friend. I was sad to find he was absolutely adorable. P.'s mouth is agape at this point and I finally get out the word "awwww." She is like get him out of here now. And then she calls me a freak.
So I bring him downstairs and put him in the regular garbage can to meet his fate. No beatings, no screaming, no running outside at breakneck speed. I have officially become the Mouse Queen...which is fitting since tonight I am going to see the Nutcracker and I believe there is a character called the Rat King or Mouse King or something like that. Perhaps there is a slim chance the ballet dancer in this role will call me up on stage and we can do a mouse tango together.
Andy Samberg + JT = Lia's True Loves
Ok forget James Franco. He's still hot, and he can still be my boyfriend, but the way to this girl's heart is easy...be hilarious.
That's why I love what Andy Samberg is doing to SNL. And why Justin Timberlake needs to get rid of Cameron and get with me immediately. Besides being incredibly good-looking, our kids would also be insanely awesome dancers...enough said.
This is the funniest thing I have ever seen.
That's why I love what Andy Samberg is doing to SNL. And why Justin Timberlake needs to get rid of Cameron and get with me immediately. Besides being incredibly good-looking, our kids would also be insanely awesome dancers...enough said.
This is the funniest thing I have ever seen.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Welcome Back Rockstar
Proving, if only to myself, that I still have what it takes...Saturday was officially one of the longest days of my life, going all the way from approximatelly 9:40 a.m. until 8:00 a.m. the following day.
It would only be fair to admit that I did have a one hour nap around 7:30 p.m. and then another quick nap from 5:40 a.m. to 6:00 a.m., but I am older now and I think that's only fair.
The day included driving from NJ to NYC, seeing the tree in Rock Center with my too-cute cousins (who are seriously just too cute, I can't even stand it), heading up to Central Park, going home, eating, watching a movie, nap #1, rallying, going to a comedy show, going to a cool place called the Casablanca Tea Room, telling the bouncer he was my new BFF, watching P. tell the bouncer he looks like Usher, me telling Usher that he was my BFF not P's, a bit of dancing, trying to karate kick a wooden board in half and failing, trying to do a pull-up on scaffolding and failing, kicking a plate of glass hanging out on the street and SUCCEEDING, props to PC for making that possible, watching PC attempt to dive over three trees on a dare from P. and failing, taking nap #2 and then the clincher, going to WCBS to supervise the taping of a segment at 7:15 a.m., call time was 6:30 a.m., I walked into the station in my going out clothes (which were thankfully workplace friendly), finished and was back in bed by 8 a.m. where I stayed until 1:35 p.m.
Reading this back, it sounds somewhat juvenile, but I do promise that this was a really fun, classy night and the majority of hijinks happened on the walk home. I should also note that because I knew I had a 6:30 call time that I paced accordingly.
Then I got up, went to brunch and went to see "The Holiday" where it was confirmed that:
1.) Cameron Diaz is the worst actress EVER and her life's success can only be attributed to a deal with Satan
2.) Kate Winslet is the BEST actress ever and my new favorite. She has one scene in the movie where she delivers this semi-speech and I have to say, I literally thought I was going to burst into tears because a.) She did it so well b.) She might as well have been talking to me.
3.) Jude Law is incredibly good-looking
4.) Jack Black is hilarious
This was followed by two margaritas and Mexican food, which made me one of the most tired people to be on planet Earth last night. I crashed at 10 and had one of the best sleeps ever. Maybe rock stars can go on for weeks at a time partying like this, but I suspect they use cocaine to accomplish that. I did it au naturel.
It would only be fair to admit that I did have a one hour nap around 7:30 p.m. and then another quick nap from 5:40 a.m. to 6:00 a.m., but I am older now and I think that's only fair.
The day included driving from NJ to NYC, seeing the tree in Rock Center with my too-cute cousins (who are seriously just too cute, I can't even stand it), heading up to Central Park, going home, eating, watching a movie, nap #1, rallying, going to a comedy show, going to a cool place called the Casablanca Tea Room, telling the bouncer he was my new BFF, watching P. tell the bouncer he looks like Usher, me telling Usher that he was my BFF not P's, a bit of dancing, trying to karate kick a wooden board in half and failing, trying to do a pull-up on scaffolding and failing, kicking a plate of glass hanging out on the street and SUCCEEDING, props to PC for making that possible, watching PC attempt to dive over three trees on a dare from P. and failing, taking nap #2 and then the clincher, going to WCBS to supervise the taping of a segment at 7:15 a.m., call time was 6:30 a.m., I walked into the station in my going out clothes (which were thankfully workplace friendly), finished and was back in bed by 8 a.m. where I stayed until 1:35 p.m.
Reading this back, it sounds somewhat juvenile, but I do promise that this was a really fun, classy night and the majority of hijinks happened on the walk home. I should also note that because I knew I had a 6:30 call time that I paced accordingly.
Then I got up, went to brunch and went to see "The Holiday" where it was confirmed that:
1.) Cameron Diaz is the worst actress EVER and her life's success can only be attributed to a deal with Satan
2.) Kate Winslet is the BEST actress ever and my new favorite. She has one scene in the movie where she delivers this semi-speech and I have to say, I literally thought I was going to burst into tears because a.) She did it so well b.) She might as well have been talking to me.
3.) Jude Law is incredibly good-looking
4.) Jack Black is hilarious
This was followed by two margaritas and Mexican food, which made me one of the most tired people to be on planet Earth last night. I crashed at 10 and had one of the best sleeps ever. Maybe rock stars can go on for weeks at a time partying like this, but I suspect they use cocaine to accomplish that. I did it au naturel.
Friday, December 15, 2006
So Today I...
...went for my dream job interview. It lasted about 15 minutes during which I attempted to stay Claritin-Clear and not let my horrible cold get in the way. I think it went well, I can't be sure. It's always the interviews where you are never sure how you did that you learn you did amazing. I don't know, whatevs, I'm just glad I did it so that I can say that I tried.
Something else fun, was that I offically erased the bad taste McWigger left on my soul and went out last night on a good date. However, I'm declaring war on the word date because I think it is stupid. We're not in 1950 anymore. My brother once told me the term is hang out and I am going with that because I figure he would know. Anyone who has seen my MySpace page, and has subsequently clicked on his profile, can figure out how he knows these things. I swear to God, we are related and I also swear to God that it's not as awful as it seems. Yes, I know he is in his underwear in one photo (at least he was, I have to avoid looking at it so as not to burn my retinas)...but if you know my brother, this will make an odd sort of sense and you will understand. Beneath that Guido exterior is a good boy. But I digress...
When I hung out last night, it was with a cool, funny person and we played darts and drank beer. I think I could be really good at darts one day, if I just learn how to aim.
Something else fun, was that I offically erased the bad taste McWigger left on my soul and went out last night on a good date. However, I'm declaring war on the word date because I think it is stupid. We're not in 1950 anymore. My brother once told me the term is hang out and I am going with that because I figure he would know. Anyone who has seen my MySpace page, and has subsequently clicked on his profile, can figure out how he knows these things. I swear to God, we are related and I also swear to God that it's not as awful as it seems. Yes, I know he is in his underwear in one photo (at least he was, I have to avoid looking at it so as not to burn my retinas)...but if you know my brother, this will make an odd sort of sense and you will understand. Beneath that Guido exterior is a good boy. But I digress...
When I hung out last night, it was with a cool, funny person and we played darts and drank beer. I think I could be really good at darts one day, if I just learn how to aim.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
It's Like Ice Cube Said...
...today was a good day. Well, it was actually yesterday, but whatever.
The day was going along innocently enough. Normal, as it usually does, when all of the sudden, the whole afternoon flipped upside down.
First, I found out a friend of mine, who pretty much has my dream job, is leaving and is in charge of finding her own replacement. After a momentary (and silent, since I'm in working out of an office this month) mental flip-out, I responded with a letter, written in all capital letters, that I was interested. There were also a number of exclamation points involved. All I can say is, the job would require seeing Diane Sawyer on a daily basis. Followers of this blog will understand the magnitude of that for me.
Shortly after, the lady who runs the business for which I am currently freelancing, basically offered me a partnership in it. Helping her grow it, bringing in clients and taking a cut of what I can bring in. That could potentially mean a ton for me. Besides being super-flattering, it's also the money incentive that normally takes more years in the business to get your hands on. I'm pondering it.
So, needless to say, come 5:30 p.m., I was amped up and needed to get to the gym to run out my excitement. No sooner do I step on the treadmill, then one of my gym boyfriends, nicknamed Fro because of the curly fro he is growing out, enters. Fro and I (at least I think) have been playing the "sh** he/she caught me staring game" for several months. Fro normally comes with a partner, nicknamed Stretch because he stretches a lot, but today he was alone. Fro also cut the hair, but I'm still calling him Fro. And I decide that if opportunity allows, I'm making a move.
So I finish up running, make my way downstairs and engage in the usual game. Only today, being that I was riding high, I decide to take the bull by the horns. Taking a break from situps, Fro is just steps away, I'm pretty sure he is looking, I turn and say, "You cut your hair."
He immediately smiles and we engage in a five minute conversation that goes a little something like this:
Fro: Yes I did.
Me: Why? I've been following its progress for several months.
Fro: Well, I'm a lawyer (me on the inside: Yay!), and I got out of court, went home for lunch and had some time to kill.
Me: Oh, wow. Just like that?
Fro: Yes, just like that. Change is good. Change is inevitable. As a matter of fact, you and I are changing right now.
Me: That we are. What did your fellow lawyers think of the hair? Did it send out a weird vibe?
Fro: (laughs): Haha, I don't know.
Me: Maybe you were the "cool" laywer.
Fro: Or the pothead one.
Me: Maybe.
Fro: So anyways, yes change is good and I can always change it back.
Me: Yes you can. I'm a big fan of changing hair every six to eight weeks.
Fro: Yeah, maybe I'll grow it out again.
Me: Definitely, as a matter of fact, it's growing right now.
Fro: (laughing pretty hard): That's pretty funny.
Me: (Smile with an eyebrow raise.)
We both go back to our exercises. And then we proceed to follow each other around the gym a bit. Smiling and catching each other's eye, when I decide I'm hungry and I need to leave. I think Fro was on a bathroom break when I decided this because he didn't see me go...but I figure that's okay. It will add an aura of mystery to my existance.
The day was going along innocently enough. Normal, as it usually does, when all of the sudden, the whole afternoon flipped upside down.
First, I found out a friend of mine, who pretty much has my dream job, is leaving and is in charge of finding her own replacement. After a momentary (and silent, since I'm in working out of an office this month) mental flip-out, I responded with a letter, written in all capital letters, that I was interested. There were also a number of exclamation points involved. All I can say is, the job would require seeing Diane Sawyer on a daily basis. Followers of this blog will understand the magnitude of that for me.
Shortly after, the lady who runs the business for which I am currently freelancing, basically offered me a partnership in it. Helping her grow it, bringing in clients and taking a cut of what I can bring in. That could potentially mean a ton for me. Besides being super-flattering, it's also the money incentive that normally takes more years in the business to get your hands on. I'm pondering it.
So, needless to say, come 5:30 p.m., I was amped up and needed to get to the gym to run out my excitement. No sooner do I step on the treadmill, then one of my gym boyfriends, nicknamed Fro because of the curly fro he is growing out, enters. Fro and I (at least I think) have been playing the "sh** he/she caught me staring game" for several months. Fro normally comes with a partner, nicknamed Stretch because he stretches a lot, but today he was alone. Fro also cut the hair, but I'm still calling him Fro. And I decide that if opportunity allows, I'm making a move.
So I finish up running, make my way downstairs and engage in the usual game. Only today, being that I was riding high, I decide to take the bull by the horns. Taking a break from situps, Fro is just steps away, I'm pretty sure he is looking, I turn and say, "You cut your hair."
He immediately smiles and we engage in a five minute conversation that goes a little something like this:
Fro: Yes I did.
Me: Why? I've been following its progress for several months.
Fro: Well, I'm a lawyer (me on the inside: Yay!), and I got out of court, went home for lunch and had some time to kill.
Me: Oh, wow. Just like that?
Fro: Yes, just like that. Change is good. Change is inevitable. As a matter of fact, you and I are changing right now.
Me: That we are. What did your fellow lawyers think of the hair? Did it send out a weird vibe?
Fro: (laughs): Haha, I don't know.
Me: Maybe you were the "cool" laywer.
Fro: Or the pothead one.
Me: Maybe.
Fro: So anyways, yes change is good and I can always change it back.
Me: Yes you can. I'm a big fan of changing hair every six to eight weeks.
Fro: Yeah, maybe I'll grow it out again.
Me: Definitely, as a matter of fact, it's growing right now.
Fro: (laughing pretty hard): That's pretty funny.
Me: (Smile with an eyebrow raise.)
We both go back to our exercises. And then we proceed to follow each other around the gym a bit. Smiling and catching each other's eye, when I decide I'm hungry and I need to leave. I think Fro was on a bathroom break when I decided this because he didn't see me go...but I figure that's okay. It will add an aura of mystery to my existance.
Monday, December 11, 2006
New Celebrity Obsession
Have you ever watched a movie, and then immediately turned around and looked up every single bit of information you could find on one of the actors...to the point where you are like, okay, I am totally obsessed with this person and then you run to the nearest coffee shop, grab a cup of coffee and a magazine because you are SURE that if you wait long enough, they'll walk in, notice you and become obsessed with you too, because, hey, this is New York and it totally could happen? No one? Just me? Really?
I exaggerate, I did not run to the coffee shop and wait for James Franco to walk in the door after watching Tristan & Isolde this weekend, but I have googled him every which way and realized, that I just may be in love. Like seriously. Like it's probably not healthy the extent to which I have given him thought this weekend. I'm probably going to buy the movie. It's that bad.
I thought he was totally hot after seeing SpiderMan but seeing him in this movie, I just literally became obsessed. I found out he has also broken up with longtime girlfriend Marla Sokoloff and that leaves the door WIIIDE open for our love affair to begin.
I mean, forget CSI actor George Eads...who has been my celeb obsession for some time...I'm pretty sure James and I are meant to be together. He's totally an artsy guy, he paints, he's super deep, and I realized I can deal with that. Plus he's Sicilian on his dad's side JUST LIKE ME. If that doesn't spell U-N-I-V-E-R-S-E A-L-I-G-N-I-N-G I dont' know what does.
I exaggerate, I did not run to the coffee shop and wait for James Franco to walk in the door after watching Tristan & Isolde this weekend, but I have googled him every which way and realized, that I just may be in love. Like seriously. Like it's probably not healthy the extent to which I have given him thought this weekend. I'm probably going to buy the movie. It's that bad.
I thought he was totally hot after seeing SpiderMan but seeing him in this movie, I just literally became obsessed. I found out he has also broken up with longtime girlfriend Marla Sokoloff and that leaves the door WIIIDE open for our love affair to begin.
I mean, forget CSI actor George Eads...who has been my celeb obsession for some time...I'm pretty sure James and I are meant to be together. He's totally an artsy guy, he paints, he's super deep, and I realized I can deal with that. Plus he's Sicilian on his dad's side JUST LIKE ME. If that doesn't spell U-N-I-V-E-R-S-E A-L-I-G-N-I-N-G I dont' know what does.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
B-List Celebrity Sighting
Finally!
I've been on high alert, given that its holiday time, for all the good celebs. Last year I spotted all the good ones...Gwen, Angelina, Julianne the list goes on. Walking home from P.'s holiday party (more on that in a minute), I saw Kyle KY as Perez calls him, Matt Dallas. He was on a TV show called Kyle XY. I think three people watched it. I dont' even know if it's on anymore. He has very striking eyes and was rocking the alarmingly popular lumberjack chic look on 1st Avenue at 2nd Street. Rampant gay rumors aside, he was with a girl.
After P.'s holiday party, I was on my way home to take a shower and get in bed when my friend called and said she needed a wingman just a few blocks away. Never one to turn down a Thursday night drink, I went, until I got bored an hour later. Not because of my friend though. The place was dead and I was tired from the requisite appearance at P.'s holiday party, where I go not to mingle...but to eat the amazing food they cater. P.'s boss uses the same caterer as Anna Wintour (editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine for those not in the know, ultra-bitch, only uses the best) and he/she does not disappoint. P.'s boss did not disappoint either. Last year, my first impression was 80's power businesswoman and this year she was wearing THE EXACT SAME OUTFIT. Rocking the Cindy Adams hair (New York post gossip columnist, www.pagesix.com, click on the Cindy Adams if you aren't personally privy to how incredible Cindy Adams hair looks in person), leopard blazer, black leather skirt, way too much mascara. Think like Tammy Faye Baker too much. God I love company holiday parties.
I've been on high alert, given that its holiday time, for all the good celebs. Last year I spotted all the good ones...Gwen, Angelina, Julianne the list goes on. Walking home from P.'s holiday party (more on that in a minute), I saw Kyle KY as Perez calls him, Matt Dallas. He was on a TV show called Kyle XY. I think three people watched it. I dont' even know if it's on anymore. He has very striking eyes and was rocking the alarmingly popular lumberjack chic look on 1st Avenue at 2nd Street. Rampant gay rumors aside, he was with a girl.
After P.'s holiday party, I was on my way home to take a shower and get in bed when my friend called and said she needed a wingman just a few blocks away. Never one to turn down a Thursday night drink, I went, until I got bored an hour later. Not because of my friend though. The place was dead and I was tired from the requisite appearance at P.'s holiday party, where I go not to mingle...but to eat the amazing food they cater. P.'s boss uses the same caterer as Anna Wintour (editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine for those not in the know, ultra-bitch, only uses the best) and he/she does not disappoint. P.'s boss did not disappoint either. Last year, my first impression was 80's power businesswoman and this year she was wearing THE EXACT SAME OUTFIT. Rocking the Cindy Adams hair (New York post gossip columnist, www.pagesix.com, click on the Cindy Adams if you aren't personally privy to how incredible Cindy Adams hair looks in person), leopard blazer, black leather skirt, way too much mascara. Think like Tammy Faye Baker too much. God I love company holiday parties.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Yoplait Commercials
The Yoplait friends are back...and I hate them still. "This is like zen, wrapped in karma, dipped in chocolate good." You know what? That doesn't even make sense.
Those commercials are "bad, wrapped in stupid, topped with ultra-gay awful."
Those commercials are "bad, wrapped in stupid, topped with ultra-gay awful."
Friday, December 01, 2006
Randomness and K-List Celeb Sightings
Last night, I wasted no time in getting back into the swing of New York life. I had an invitation to attend a party compliments of my old job, with free food and free wine and fashion people, which equals, eat for free, drink for free and watch the freak parade.
It did not disappoint. I got there around 7 when the party was in full swing. The food was not as prevalent as one would hope…but the wine was, and I was proud of myself for checking out after 2 glasses. The first K-list celeb sighting was Angie Everhart, who was the “host” of the party. You know what really sucks? To be an older, white, former supermodel. White people just do not age as gracefully as other races, and this is never more evident than in the supermodel. Angie is still really pretty, her plastic surgeon has taken care of that, but it just so happens that I was watching TV the other day and something about Iman and David Bowie came on, and I was thinking to myself, oh to be Ethiopian and look beautiful forever…and sure enough, just a few days later Angie proves me right. I guess the good lesson to gleam from seeing her is that being a supermodel may be awesome in your teens and 20s, but after that, you’re just like the rest of us. Some may call that poetic justice. I just call it awesome.
Anyways, then Am. came and we left to go meet up with some new friends on the UWS. It was kind of random because we had met a few people at a bar two weeks ago, and thought they were cool, and then one of the kids texted Am. to come meet up with him and his other friends last night. So we said, why not? And sure enough, it was really fun. I had my second K-list celeb sighting, the actress Michael Michelle having dinner with some young, gay-looking, guy. She is stunning, which just also further proves my theory above, even though Michael Michelle was not a model, it’s the same difference.
Anyways, I had a cucumber martini that deserved a standing ovation for deliciousness…and then got into a really fun conversation with a kid who knew Miami Beach, Boca and the J-Shore as much as I do…so our conversation including everything from the career hooker at the Fontainebleau Hotel that I met once (who may or may not have been his 90-year-old grandmother, at least that’s the theory I threw out there), the best Jewish delis in Boca, and guidos at the J-Shore. Good times. I then met a girl who is a forensic pathologist, and promptly engaged her in a conversation about CSI techniques, doing autopsies, how good of a Medical Examiner I would make, and other forensic items of interest. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when she told me a story on how she had ripped out a man’s balls from the inside of his body, after he was dead. Not because I want any man’s balls ripped out from the inside (only maybe a couple of guys I know deserve this), but because I need a hero.
It did not disappoint. I got there around 7 when the party was in full swing. The food was not as prevalent as one would hope…but the wine was, and I was proud of myself for checking out after 2 glasses. The first K-list celeb sighting was Angie Everhart, who was the “host” of the party. You know what really sucks? To be an older, white, former supermodel. White people just do not age as gracefully as other races, and this is never more evident than in the supermodel. Angie is still really pretty, her plastic surgeon has taken care of that, but it just so happens that I was watching TV the other day and something about Iman and David Bowie came on, and I was thinking to myself, oh to be Ethiopian and look beautiful forever…and sure enough, just a few days later Angie proves me right. I guess the good lesson to gleam from seeing her is that being a supermodel may be awesome in your teens and 20s, but after that, you’re just like the rest of us. Some may call that poetic justice. I just call it awesome.
Anyways, then Am. came and we left to go meet up with some new friends on the UWS. It was kind of random because we had met a few people at a bar two weeks ago, and thought they were cool, and then one of the kids texted Am. to come meet up with him and his other friends last night. So we said, why not? And sure enough, it was really fun. I had my second K-list celeb sighting, the actress Michael Michelle having dinner with some young, gay-looking, guy. She is stunning, which just also further proves my theory above, even though Michael Michelle was not a model, it’s the same difference.
Anyways, I had a cucumber martini that deserved a standing ovation for deliciousness…and then got into a really fun conversation with a kid who knew Miami Beach, Boca and the J-Shore as much as I do…so our conversation including everything from the career hooker at the Fontainebleau Hotel that I met once (who may or may not have been his 90-year-old grandmother, at least that’s the theory I threw out there), the best Jewish delis in Boca, and guidos at the J-Shore. Good times. I then met a girl who is a forensic pathologist, and promptly engaged her in a conversation about CSI techniques, doing autopsies, how good of a Medical Examiner I would make, and other forensic items of interest. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when she told me a story on how she had ripped out a man’s balls from the inside of his body, after he was dead. Not because I want any man’s balls ripped out from the inside (only maybe a couple of guys I know deserve this), but because I need a hero.
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