planning a mini-college/sorority/liquor reunion during Homecoming this year;
Deadwood, although I do not understand what is going on, frankly;
the white bag I finally committed to, which I cannot find on the internets anywhere, but it's this fabulous Betsey Johnson thing with oodles of gold chains just gooping off it in a tacky/delicious way;
Rainier cherries (which have become my singular food fixation -- cherries have always been my favorite fruit, followed shortly by pears, but I'd never had these before this summer);
the Bogota laundromat (minimalist, retro, air-conditioned: perfection);
Chanel Coco - I have been exclusively wearing Chance and No. 5 for the last few years (I've actually been wearing No. 5 since my thirteenth birthday!), but have decided that Coco is an unexpectedly perfect warm weather scent;
There are a couple of famous men out there that I have noticed large portions of the straight male population have little boycrushes on. George Clooney's an obvious member of this club, for example, and Sufjan Stevens is the indie rock equivalent, I think.
Another one of those guys is Anthony Bourdain, who is now back from filming his show in Beirut and writing about it in Salon. Enjoy, gentlemen.
In honor of my friend Amydear's upcoming birthday, I present to you the effing rad invitations to her parties in years gone by...(turn up your speakers, bitch -- if your boss is not so much a fan of the internets, might be best to wait 'til you get home): The Pretty Pretty Princess Party and the Catty Bitch Bash!
(Thanks, Alisha, for the permission. And happy birthday to you too! You kids have fun out there in the I.D. [Can I start saying that? Like, as in, "Welcome to the I.D., bitch!"])
I am dorkily jazzed about the plans to play all the videos that played the first day that MTV went on the air. You know why? Because as a child, although we had MTV, I was not permitted to watch it because of its questionable moral influence. And I was such an obedient child that even when my parents would leave me to my own devices, I would not dare turn to the forbidden channel, even though I desperately, desperately wanted to. So it's all new to me!
(And you know, thank goodness I was shielded from the dark urges MTV would have ignited in my heart, right? Between that and the hideously labored sex discussion I was forced to have before being allowed to watch Dirty Dancing on VHS, it's a wonder I can function in society, I swear.)
So Mr. Pink and I have started to get back in the habit of eating granola for breakfast, which is good news for cats. Because granola and cereal means milk in the bottom of the bowl for cats to lick! Right? Well, I mention this because last night we hear our cat, Sebastian, making this odd noise. We walked over to the chair, and he's asleep...but he is licking in his sleep. He was dreaming of milk!
Anyway, I am sure you are wondering what I thought of Clerks II. Answer: fucking love! And I really felt like it was the proper New Jersey resident thing to do to see it on opening weekend.
Seen/heard:Pittsburgh Film Office dispute (or whatever) rages on; putting some regulations on the gone-wild FDA; lame Project Runway spoiler I inadvertantly stumbled across; I had never heard of "signing statements" until I read the NYTyesterday, but man, bring on the lawsuit, Specter, that's bullshit; Stephen Colbert snags another (truly inexcusably dumb) politician in his web of truthiness; how come Puerto Rico gets its own entry in the Miss Universe pageant, why don't they just have to share Miss America with the rest of us? That does not seem fair!
The word-of-mouth ripple effect among female moviegoers of a certain
age (as they say in la belle France) is almost tangible; we're talking
"Thelma & Louise" for the over-40, upscale, white Burgundy
It's funny because it's true, but it is also scary because it's true. To imagine women getting together to see this "empowering" film smacks of the worst of what "Fuck Me" feminists (wait, are we just going by "Third Wave" these days?) were accused of when we started wearing nail polish again. Just so...depressing and not productive.
Then again, I do find Thelma & Louise empowering, probably mostly because of how they kill that guy, which I guess goes to show how morally bankrupt I am.
Holy fuck, why are they closing Rochas?! The stuff out of there was some of the best work I saw last year! Mr. Theyskens, you can sleep on my sofa, if you need to, now that I have one and all.