Archive for May, 2009

Why is Zooey Deschanel doing commercials for Cotton?

May 31, 2009

In lieu of partaking in any Saturday night fun, I’m at home, lying in bed and nursing an (un)happy hour hangover.  Five dollar margaritas be dammed, I’m using this downtime to catch up on my magazines/blogs/any other essential time waster that consumes my life. Good for you readers. Bad for my dissipating social life.




Dear God. Talk about resting on your hipster laurels, Lissy Trullie! I first heard about this androgynous snore from hipper-than-thou Nylon magazine. Curiosity mixed with boredom implored me to listen to some of her music. Verdict? zzzzzz. (Is that the thing that’s used to signify sleeping?) I get it. She’s cute, edgy and an L.E.S. Artiste! But please. Try to make music that sounds remotely interesting. The sound of her songs is so bizarrely dated. It sounds like leftovers from some unremarkable guitar-pop band from the 1990’s. I’m all for 90’s nostalgia but bands like Sun 60 and Spin Doctors don’t deserve a revival. NEXT.





Okay, wait. Don’t judge a band by its My Chemical Romance-esque cover. The Horrors actually kick serious ass. Their music is like going on an 80’s gothic romp. It’s dreamy, dark and atmospheric. Sort of like a more fleshed-out Joy Division. Their songs can be absolutely creepy and haunting but also insanely catchy.  I’m a big fan of music that terrifies me but also has me humming their songs in the shower the next day. What does that say about me? I’m so complex!




I was interested in seeing this movie for a couple of reasons. One, I’m kind of fascinated by Hilary Duff’s career makeover into a “serious” actress/electronica artist. This girl has literally no talent but she’s been super smart in navigating her career. In 2004, could you have guessed Hilary Duff would be a more reputable name than Lindsay Lohan? Back then, Lindsay was seen as the more talented one and the one that was destined for A-list stardom. While the former may still be true, the only thing Lindsay is starring in these days are papparazzi pics of her leaving her boyfriend, Sam Ronson’s house. Duff, on the other hand, has created a successful brand name and has stayed out of the limelight. Hilary Duff-2. Lindsay Lohan-1. Your turn, Lindsay!


Other than Hil, I was also keen on seeing this film because I’m obsessed with indie goddess Olivia Thirlby, weirdo stoner freak Josh Peck and cute Molly Shannon. Imagine my surprise then when this movie ended up sucking. Hard. None of it really made a lick of sense. The editing was choppy and nonsensical. The characters were SEVERELY underdeveloped. They included too many characters and didn’t spend any time fleshing them out. Olivia Thirlby plays the “dark angry misfit” who may or may not be sexually abused by her stepfather, has an abortion and wears an obscene amount of eyeliner. Hilary Duff (bless her heart) TRIES to act like a Lolita temptress but ends up just making sad confused expressions the entire film. There’s also a subplot about a disabled teenaged girl who has sex with an able-bodied hot guy and weirdo potentially mentally-retarded twins. No, I’m really not making this up. THIS MOVIE MADE NO SENSE.

Oh, well. 

And don’t EVEN get me started on The Girlfriend Experience.


Good night.


Different kind of summer.

May 28, 2009



Spending a summer in New York is a foreign experience to me. I am not familiar with spending my summers surrounded by slabs of concrete and high-rise buildings. I am not used to humidity or stuffy underground tunnels or attending parties on apartment rooftops rather than in backyards. I usually equate these months of June, July and August with mountains, oceans and long car rides. Summer is California. Except now it’s not. Now it’s New York.


Last summer, I subletted an apartment off of Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood. My main objective was to recover from a major hand surgery and write a spec script on Gossip Girl. In between writing and hand rehab, the summer was mine to do as I pleased. Luckily, there were some magical moments. 


I waked around my neighborhood often, observing the people and paying close attention to the one house on my block with the overgrown weeds and shabby porch. I got drunk off champagne at Cheebo at 2:30 in the afternoon because I could and because it was only a block away from my apartment. Drinking in proximity to one’s residence is crucial in Los Angeles. The days started to float by. One day, I walked to Ralph’s on Fuller with my friend Caitie and everyone was dressed like freaks and I just wanted a bottle of water. Friends would sleep over and I would throw get togethers with the people I grew up with and everyone would get drunk on the balcony and feel like they were getting déjà vu because, well,  I suppose they were. After all, we had gotten drunk on many balconies in high school. My friend Alex drove from Pasadena many times and one night, we drove in her Rabbit with the top down, to a party in  the Hollywood Hills. We got tipsy on free mixed drinks, stood next to Devendra Banhart who looked like he was wearing an ankle-length skirt and talked to a weird 15 year-old intern because she was the one person who didn’t intimidate us.

            My hand got better and my cast came off. I could stop washing my hair in the sink and was now able to dip my entire body in water and things got easier and easier. I took the bus to Santa Monica for hand therapy three times a week. Los Angeles commutes can suck you dry.

            The time I had in Los Angeles was absolutely stellar & quintessentially California Now I’m in New York and it’s hot and rainy and it’s going to be a ghost city soon on the weekends. But it will all be okay because this is the time of the year when everything feels so ripe and possible.  I want to spend my next six weeks in New York working as much as possible and hanging out with my best friends and lying in bed waiting to hear  the great summer song of 2009. And then it’s back to Los Angeles where I plan to continue working  & having the (hopefully) last surgery of my young adult life. Both experiences will be markedly different but they’ll have the season in common. & that is all I really ever need.


May 25, 2009


Does anyone remember the reality show Rich Girls? It aired in 2003 on MTV & basically  started the trend of reality TV profiling inept wealthy people.  


It’s also genius. Aly Hilfiger & Jamie Gleicher are hysterically stupid and overindulged. Aly seems stoned 90% of the time (she went to rehab after the show aired. Go figure.)  & Jamie has a permascowl etched on her face and a cigarette dangling from her lips at all times. Please. If you have five hours of your life to throw away, watch the season on Youtube. The two girls seriously suffer from Peter Pan Syndrome, a common affliction of the wealthy. The “real world” is really confusing to them and they have an obsession with regressing to their five year-old selves. They’re happiest playing in toy stores and dressing up. It’s actually really fascinating from a psychological point-of-view. What happens when you’re not forced to “grow up”? In Aly & Jamie’s case, you remain a child.


In the clip above, Aly is awash in a sea of confusion as to how to make a burrito. Her version of “making a burrito” is going to Gelson’s Market (arguably the Dubai of supermarkets) and buying everything pre-made. All she has to do is put all the food in a tortilla and eat it. Somehow this task still has her running for the Xanax. MMMM Xanax.


Today, this obsession with wealth is getting to be a bit too much. Shows like The Hills and Real Housewives pick up where Rich Girls seemingly left off. But Rich Girls was the trailblazer and the best. Now, it’s just sad. As everyone around us gets poorer, the characters on our TV are getting richer! Que pasa? Blue-collar can be interesting. Roeseanne anyone?


May 18, 2009

I bought this T-shirt at Oak yesterday & now my life has been made complete.




This is my official T-shirt of Summer ’09.


Speaking of which, I’ve finished finals. Praise Jesus! Now it’s time to calculate my new identity for the summer. What will be my new aesthetic?! I’m thinking THIS:




No, you ain’t trppin’. That is a tie-dyed tank top! They’re genius and I plan on buying them in bulk and wearing them 24/7. With so much DRAMA on the streets of NYC, it’s my duty to sport some bright colors and spread peace & love!


On to other orders of business:




The. Real. Housewives. of N.Y.C. REUNION.


OMG. Let me collect myself. 


It’s my firm belief that the reunion shows of the Real Housewives are always the best episodes of an entire season. The host, Andy, is just so fucking GOOD at calling these crazy bitches out on their bullshit.


This reunion set the bar.


Dear Alex. Who did your eyeshadow? It looks like you were dipped in blueberries. I suppose that’s the price you pay for being a ~fashion risk taker~. Maybe you should rethink being so risky?




Kelly unexpectedly stole the show halfway through the season. She came off mild-mannered in the beginning. Rode horses, “wrote” for magazines etc. But after that fight with Bethenny, it was clear that she was on some SERIOUS shit. Weird, downtown street drug shit. The kind of shit that deletes entire events from your memory. The kind of shit that makes you go from “I love your blouse!” to “You’re a bitch. We’ll never be friends!” in 2.5 seconds. One of my favorite moments was when she showed up four hours late to her own Halloween party looking like she had just rolled out of a crack den with a hot Spaniard on her arm. Her excuse was something about taking her kids trick-or treating or something. Lets be honest, Kelly. They haven’t seen you in weeks. And even if they had, her version of trick or treating must be dressing them up in last year’s couture & dragging them up to Harlem to visit her dealer.


But the reunion show.  She truly outdid herself.


She claimed that she was named “Most Charitable” at age 15 in her “area.”

She’s an ambassador for wool. Uh, me too Kelly. I wore a wool cardigan last week.

She noted that “cartwheels had no price.”

She also made numerous grammatical errors and awkward word choices that I won’t even begin to dive into. 


She is seriously UNREAL. That being said, GIMME GIMME MORE.


I’m sad it’s ended. The premiere of New Jersey was awful. There’s not a smart one in the bunch. All so tacky, all so DISGUSTING. Such obvious ties to organized crime. I might skip it.


But maybe I shouldn’t. After all, what else would I write about in this thing? I mean, really?

CHEERS, bitch!

May 11, 2009







May 11, 2009






Hi. These albums complete my life & should be listened to back to back either during sex and/or while stoned. 


I bought Mezzanine in 7th grade at a record store in Marina Del Rey & felt like such a weird 13 year-old druggie dark freak for listening to it but WHATEVER. Trip-Hop is one of my favorite genres of music. It’s sort of a sexy, heavy, mysterious sound. It kind of makes me want to go to a rave, like the one in that movie Go, and dance till 5 am and walk home in the rain on the 101 and pass out in a plush bed in Silverlake.




I’m not stoned. It’s finals and I have to write a ten page paper on film’s depiction of teen virginity?!  All I want to do is watch Season 6 of Beverly Hills, 90210 and find out if Donna Martin will ever dump her abusive boyfriend who sings pretty songs on the guitar.


Sundays are always so weird. They go by in slow motion and everything just feels so lethargic. I wonder if it would feel differently if I were religious.

Pico de Mayo.

May 6, 2009

Finals have taken over. I just spent four hours in Le Pain Quotidien, outlining a ten page paper on the “Othering” of gender. Afterwards, I came home & watched Single White Female and The Out-of-Towners for a research paper on the media’s role in creating a “dangerous” New York. BLAH BLAH BLAH. Too bad all I wanna do is get a margarita and look at pictures of Mary-Kate and Ashley. Speaking of which:


Ashley Olsen attends "The Model as Muse: Embodying Fashion" Cost











On the fence. It’s a serious upgrade from MK’s look at last year’s Met gala:


met costume gala 5 050508


Ugh. I can’t even discuss. It’s too painful.