Archive for January, 2009

Taking a stroll down Britney lane.

January 26, 2009


I was planning on writing an epic post about the faux cumback of Britney Spears but I start school tomorrow. I’ve made the judicious decision to conserve all of my brain cells for my long day of receiving syllabi and deciding who I need to avoid in all my classes. That being said, I scoured the archives of my old blog and discovered this vintage Britney commentary. Read in hindsight, it comes off as pretty poignant. Or just sad.


Date: November 2006.


Today marks the end of the Britney and K-Fed union. We all watched in horror as Britney went from being not a girl to not yet a blimp. Some fans point accusing fingers at K-Fed for being responsible for her downfall. This blame is understandable/partially true but lets’ be honest with ourselves.

First off, in regards to Britney’s fashion, she was always one step away from looking like she was sporting a Hefty bag. Fashion icon, she was not. I predicit that having children really lowered the priority of keeping your bad fashion taste a secret. And honestly, I don’t know if K-Fed accidently knocked Brit’s publcist unconscious with his bong or what but that Dateline interview was inexcusable. You’re trying to prove the naysayers wrong Britney & chewing gum & declaring that you’re just “country” isn’t necessarily going to dissuade them from thinking you’re a hick. And srsly, take back that ripped denim skirt. TJ MAXX is closing. As far as her music goes…what music? Her remix album sold five copies and sounds like bad gay techno. i hope she can resurrect her music because she had some gems. Like that one where she talks about jacking off, and that one where she talks about being a slave, and esp. the one where she orders someone to breathe on her. Deny all you want, Britney is on my iPod and after four drinks, I am NOT afraid to play her shit. 

It’s just sad looking at how much she’s gone downhill in comparison to her peers aka JT & Christina Aguilera. JT hooked up with Cam Diaz who looks like the joker with acne but like whatever, she’s hot. He brought sexyback(yeah!) and got cred everywhere from hip hoppers to hipsters. Christina stopped being such a filfhy whore, married an ugly jewish guy and made an ambitious album. All have fared well. The press is kind to them. Britney, not so much.

So my advice to Britney would be to hire fashion stylist/meth dealer/professional haggard ass ho Rachel Zoe and hire Linda Perry to produce your super deep divorce album. Take a cue from Jessica Simpson’s failure of an album and be as personal as you can be. After all this, is America. 


Previously on The City: The show continued to suck & Whitney tried out a new facial expression.

January 25, 2009

Since I’ve been back in New York, I’ve had time to catch up on my television programs. Most notably, The City.



Oh Hai Whitney!


OK, I have a bone to pick with this show. First, I should tell you that I have a complex relationship with the sister show, The Hills. I tune in every week and spend thirty minutes of my life being inundated with pretty images of blank-faced girls eating posh lunches. And then eating posh dinners. Going out to a posh club and then going to a posh brunch the morning after to recap. Every time an episode ends, I’ll try to figure out what exactly happened. I think real hard. And come up with the conclusion that, just like every episode prior, nothing happened at all. Therein lies the brilliance for the show. The Hills acts as my own personal Xanax. For 30 minutes a week, my brain is on vacay with Lauren, Audrina, Heidi & Whitney. That doesn’t mean that I don’t resent MTV for making me (and millions of others) give a shit about these retards. I can’t help but feel as if we are continually get Punk’d every time we watch a damn episode.


Anywho, where was I? Oh, right. THE CITY.


K my expectations for this show were lower than low. Bless Whitney Port’s heart but is she by far the dullest “character” on The Hills. Every week, she seemingly clocks in her screen time by pretending to type on her computer and ask Lauren about the latest details of her life.  Whitney delivers her lines with such tepid enthusiasm, it’s like she rather shoot herself in the head than hear Lauren talk again about her 2 year-old Made-4-TV beef with Heidi. But whatever, Lauren Conrad = meal ticket for all of her friendz. Lets be real. I would love to be cast as LC’s “quirky” gay friend that talks shit on her girlfriends with her and steals her drugs (off-camera). I’d probably get $10,000 an episode and hawk a jewelry line at Kitson. Dare to dream, I suppose.


Anyways, I was not surprised. The City blowz. Living in “the city” is far more scandalous than how it’s presented on the show. Take for example the dinner party Whitney is invited to by Olivia Palermo. On the show, the dinner party is presented as a mostly PG affair. Olivia and her friends exchange mushy toasts and talk about the horrifying dilemma of having art dealers for parents (Ex: “CUZ I DON’T LIKE ART. AND LIKE EVERYONE EXPECTS ME TO LOVE IT CUZ MY DAD IS AN ART DEALER AND LIKE, I JUST DON’T!”). In real life, I can’t help but feel as if  Socialite Olivia Palermo’s “dinner party” would actually be code for “rooftop coke binge with 20 of my closest friends from rehab.” Like her cousin, Nevan? Hi. Lets not pretend he’s not fucked up every second he’s on camera.


And Whitney just doesn’t have a strong enough (read: any) personality to carry her own show. I’m not saying Lauren Conrad is the personification of interesting but I feel like she has enough of a presence to where the viewer can decide to love her or hate her. With Whitney, I just feel “meh.”


The show is getting bad ratings which helps restore my faith in humanity a little bit. As the saying goes, “(MTV Execs) fool me once, shame on you! Fool me twice, shame on me.” (Or still, MTV. I can always blame MTV.)

Los Angeles.

January 18, 2009

I’m going back to New York tomorrow. As I prepare to change out of my lived-in short-shorts in exchange for ear-muffs and prepare for  my annual descent into seasonal depression, I wanted to comprise a list of the things I love about L.A. Thoughts to keep me warm during the cold hollow NYC nights!


1. Griffith Park/Observatory

Even though Los Angeles is surrounded by mountains, oceans and everything in-between, I often find myself lost in a haze of strip malls containing Yoshinoya.  Griffith Park is my uRbAN OaSis. Take a nice hike up to the Observatory and look at the smog through the telescopes. Eat at the delish cafe, Trails.  Walk your dog. WHATEVER. It’s amaze.




2. New Beverly Cinema

Best movie theatre in Los Angeles. They play a double feature of old (sometimes shitty) movies every night. & nothing else. I honestly don’t know how they stay in biz but whatevs. It’s super romantic too & a good place to babe watch. So far I’ve taken my best girlfriend & an ex-boyfriend. I really don’t know what that says about me.



3.Downtown L.A.

Downtown is like the west coast’s slice of NYC pre-Gulliani. It’s lawless with loft parties going till  4 am with an assortment of colorful crackheads. It’s starting to get gentrified with all the million doillar lofts and Starbucks being built so enjoy this shit while it lasts.


4. Laurel Canyon

Ever since I was little, I’ve had this weird obsession with Laurel Canyon. It’s been immortalized in the 60’s with people like Joni Mitchell and I just imagine it as this hippie commune where people play music and get stoned all day. And drive BMW’s? And munch on 40 dollar steak at the neighborhood restaurant, Pace? And live in multi-million dollar homes?  So hippie. LET ME LIVE IN MY FANTASY.

OK. Now here’s my worst enemy of L.A.372479993_5ec3984e2f


I can’t. I won’t. I don’t. Unless I have to. Alot of  my family lives in the valley & not even the fun Disney star-populated, Studio City. I’m talking straight-up 818  Numero Uno-filled, porn haven, strip mall, white power valley. It’s not fun. It’s 110 degrees during the summer and 40 degrees during the winter. Avoid at all costs. Unless you live there. Then you should just move out.


Everyone fucking hates L.A. And I get it. The driving/traffic, the vapid culture, the phoniness, the desperation. All of this is true. But I don’t care. It’s sunny. It’s fun. It’s a dreamworld.


Now it’s back to reality in NYC.


gossip boy(i)


January 15, 2009


This is my blog. I’ve been blogging since I was fifteen but talking about eating cupcakes & posting polaroids of all my super cute drunk friends on Livejouurnal doesn’t count. I’m an adult. I should have an adult blog. I’m not sure what the focus will be on. Musings on pop culture, fashion, music, movies, college, cities. Is that enough? Ok. Good.

I’m in Los Angeles right now & I’ve been reading alot of Joan Didion. Love her? Hate Her? LOVE HER. She talks alot about freeways and fancy restaurants and it’s sort of weird. But I’m into it. I read these two this week.


This one’s a memoir & she basically talks about her husband of forty years dropping dead in front of her. Didion’s cold. She’s intellectual. She’s methodical. But it still moved me to tears. Go figure.


This one’s a work of fiction & details a washed up actress’ descent into depression. I read it at Buzz Coffee today on Beverly Blvd & drank four cups of iced tea. Her prose reminds me of  Bret Easton Ellis’ Less Than Zero. It’s unemotional and sort of detached. But honestly,  it’s 100x better than Ellis’.  I can only take chapters about coke binges at Spago for so long.

Didion’s life is envious. She’s impossibly wealthy, eats at places like Dominic’s daily & gets paid to basically talk shit. Albeit more eloquently than the average Joe. But hi, can I have her life/career?

Since I’ve been back in Los Angeles, I’ve been going  to Too Many Tuesdays at Temporary Spaces & Moustache Mondays at La Cita. I feel like a fucking grandpa at Too Many Tuesdays. The median age is 16–if that. Moustache Mondays is full of babezzzzz sans moustaches.  Love it. Love EL-AY. LOVE HIM…………..