Archive for February, 2006
Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
Lunch was spent at Starbucks today. The table of four businessmen and One Wacky Guy! to my left was discussing not so discreetly the events of each of their respective Valentine’s Day evenings, prompting OWG! to exclaim that he illegally entered the new home of Businessman #2 before he and his wife arrived home last night, “took a big shit on the floor, and rubbed it on the walls with my hand! It smells real nice in there now!”
“Ha ha haahaaahahaha,” Businessmen #1, #3, and #4 nervously laughed. Why Businessman #2 and his wife didn’t notice the redecoration is a mystery.
OWG! then waxed pornographic about his own personal “Crisco disco” (four times) as Claire Danes walked by the giant window we were sitting under, and one guy yelled to another guy that “you just missed Claire Danes! She’s hot!”
Time to go.
Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
It’s frustrating when the only person I want to kiss is spending some time in another country. Do you know who I say no to?
Valentine’s Day was fun, once we started having it. We first went to a dancey art party thrown by Deryck Todd at which Adrian, who had some of his work on the walls, drew words all over people and took their picture. Geordon and Leigh spun fantastically.
The place got weird and we moved to Fat Baby, where Larry DJed, Blackface Jesus walked around with some balloons, and Mike Nouveau gave out tiny cupcakes. A guy in red made eyes.
After a while there, we ducked out to make a stop at Darkroom for the Tarts of Pleasure’s last Modern Art. Karen attempted to make a finger heart and got it right after a few tries and a few flashes.
These people are all tops.
Wednesday, February 15th, 2006
Only, really.
A play-by-play of one of Nicole Richie’s minglings with pedestrians to promote Diet Dr. Pepper, Valentine’s Day:
Nicole Richie is giving away free Diet Dr. Pepper through a hole in the side of a truck. It’s Valentine’s Day in New York City. It looks like an ice cream truck. There are three people in line to get free Diet Dr. Pepper from Nicole Richie, and sixteen paparazzi photographers taking pictures of Nicole Richie giving people Diet Dr. Pepper.
Ten minutes ago, she first appeared through the hole in the truck in a jacket. When she saw the sixteen photographers, she quickly jumped back, visible through the only marginally tinted passenger window. She then put a fur coat over the jacket, fixed her hair, fished giant red-rimmed sunglasses out of a bag, put them on, and returned to her post in the hole in the ice cream truck to give people free cans of Diet Dr. Pepper.
Now Nicole is smiling for the flashes, posing with the product, and even bending forward to take a picture with a fan. Several of the photographers are screaming “Nicole, give us a smile!”
“Hold up the can!”
“Look this way, Nicole!”
“Hold up the can again!”
A man walking by remarks “those are Some Freakin’ Glasses.”
A young-like woman wearing too much makeup, tight red pants, and a tight white shirt with “I [heart] Diet Dr. Pepper” on the front smiles at the three people waiting for Nicole’s free cans as she yells “COME GET YOUR FREE DIET DR. PEPPER NICOLE RICHIE IS HERE TO GIVE IT TO YOU SHE REALLY IS SEE FOR YOURSELF NICOLE THEY DON’T BELIEVE YOU’RE HERE SHOW YOURSELF NICOLE COME ON GET SOME FREE DIET DR. PEPPER IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY!”
One of the girls in line to receive a free can from Nicole Richie keeps her smile as she waits for the flashes to stop and for Nicole to give her the damn thing. She really looks like she wants that can. Will she even open it? Or will it sit on a shelf? Will she tell her friends that she was personally handed that can of Diet Dr. Pepper by Nicole Richie… of… fame? Why isn’t this girl in school? It’s almost 1:00 on a Tuesday. Will the girl behind her, who tapped on the window to wave “hello” while Nicole was glamming it up earlier, open her can?
Oh well, nevermind. Nicole is gone now anyway. The girls are handed their free cans of Diet Dr. Pepper by a man in another white shirt with “I [heart] Diet Dr. Pepper” on the front. Nicole is being carried (yes, carried) by two men from the other side of the Diet Dr. Pepper ice cream truck into a waiting red van parked three feet away. The men who carry her this distance are required only to take one step each to get her from the truck to the van.
Nicole Richie spent approximately fifty-five seconds smiling with a can of Diet Dr. Pepper, wearing giant red-rimmed sunglasses and a fur coat, posing for sixteen paparazzi photographers while an appalling woman screamed for more passersby to step right up and have Nicole Richie offer them a free can of Diet Dr. Pepper.
Tuesday, February 14th, 2006
What my iPod played this morning, in order, in “shuffle songs” mode:
Dolly Parton – “Jolene”
Madonna – “Human Nature”
MIA/Diplo Mixtape Track 6
Test Icicles – “Party On Dudes”
Neneh Cherry – “Love Ghetto”
Metric – “Dead Disco”
Pretenders – “I Should Of”
The Sun – “Taking the Lord’s Name in Vein”
Walkmen – “Hang On, Siobhan”
Some Girls – “The Prettiest Girl”
I’m listening to all of Some Girls now, and I blame That Bitch Kai and her voodoo magic for “Jolene.” I’m not convinced that she doesn’t have a little Brad doll in her closet that she holds above candles and writes “Jolene” on with a fine-point sharpie. But that’s okay, because I have a little clown finger puppet named Bruckles, and all I need do is mention him on my blog to send TBK into a fright for an hour.
Monday, February 13th, 2006
On Friday after work we were about to cross the street when a woman in a fur coat and sweat pants ran out in front of traffic, chased by her male companion. We made eye contact and he sort of smiled the “she’s crazy” smile before I realized it was Kurt Russell trying to keep Goldie Hawn from losing her legs to the treads of a yellow cab.
This weekend brought record snow, Hilary Duff, a sweatshirt with pink flamingos on the front, and a custom front-only dye job courtesy of Kathy. And I ended up looking like a Tard Gone Wild on Last Night’s Party.
Yesterday was apparently the biggest snowfall on record in New York City, and I spent five hours of it driving to and from Yorktown to visit Kathy’s family. I’m used to driving in snow, being from Ohio (not Michigan, my unwholly Hilton friend), so it wasn’t bad. Just slow.
While we were there her father pointed out an article in the Daily News about a woman who smuggled a head onto a plane. The weirdest thing about it was that she was only charged for not providing proper documentation… which would then allow her to bring a human head, “with teeth, hair, and skin,” onto a plane in a duffel bag. Brother Chris’ assessment of the crime? “She should face Severe punishment.”
Also, Leigh is an album cover!
Thursday, February 9th, 2006
My favorite “What the What” event of the Grammys: Alicia Keys and Stevie Wonder singing “Higher Ground” a capella after discussing the destruction of New Orleans, a city washed away because it was built below sea level. Also, Coretta Scott King? She’s underground.
I texted Trent (he’s at the Grammys right now) to ask if the Gorillaz characters were CGI for TV or if they were actually 3D holograms in person, and he said “they were 3D here as well, insane, they looked like puppets.” I told him to kick Kanye in his self-congratulating ass for me, and he said he would at Kanye’s party later, but I don’t think he’s gonna come through.
I thought that, um, Madonna kind of sucked. And I am so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sick of U2. And Chris Martin needs to cut his hair because his unkempt fro is making me want to cough up a hairball. And I agree with Kathy’s inevitable blog post that the Grammy people need to stop rewarding Paul McCartney for being a Beatle twenty thousand years ago, because his music these days is borderline circus music.
Wednesday, February 8th, 2006
TOO MANY PEOPLE at the Heatherette afterparty last night. I was halfway up Susanne Bartsch’s butt, it was so crowded. Got to say hi to Jay McCarroll, though. And I spied Kyan while Jai spied me. Larry DJed. Kathy and Ryan danced while Richie and I made ugly faces.
How come when Richie makes an ugly face he still looks fantastic, but when I do I really succeed at looking ugly? Maybe it’s because he’s a model and I am ugly. Hooray! Then my skin fell off and I gave Kathy one bony finger.
Tuesday, February 7th, 2006
At work, there are rooster noises. He leaves his door open and we can hear the rooster noises. Down the hall, the familiar unanswered “Magic Flute” cell phone ring. But at least the name-speller isn’t spelling his name to anyone at the moment. And the Russian lady just said “yis, okee.” I love her for that.
Tell me what your favorite bad movie is. Mine is B.A.P.S.
“I’ll take the test for you, chocolate animal woman.”
Tuesday, February 7th, 2006
HIM: i fell down today
HIM: in front of a lot of people
HIM: does that please you?
ME: HAHAHAHAHAH YES IT DOES
ME: oh man thank you
