Archive for January, 2007
Wednesday, January 31st, 2007
Being sick and spending time wrapped in a blanket with the dog. Making list after list. Skipping out on parties. Skipping out on album releases. Skipping out on fashion week. I’d much rather cook and stay here in my underwear. Playing with new computer toys. Contemplating starting a raw foods diet. Feeling healthier and more energetic, maybe. Anticipating the Reno 911 movie. Morgan’s photos last night.
Can somebody explain to me why Giada De Laurentiis is the straight man’s dream? She looks like a very recent “after” on a makeover show (still not pretty but with way overdone hair and brothel makeup). She says shit like PARMIGIANO REGGIANO in a selective accent and I want to turn her face inside out. Most of the food she cooks on her show is a heart attack waiting to happen, yet she’s a size 0. “Portion control” me all you want, but it’s clear that you just don’t eat the shit you tell us to eat. And this isn’t really her fault, but she inspires headlines like “Admit it: nothing’s sexier than a woman in the kitchen” (Details) and “Hey Good Lookin’, What You got Cookin’?” (People). As far as I can see, the only thing she has going for her is that she’s not Rachael Ray.
Monday, January 29th, 2007
When someone I like likes me back.
Taking cabs with people who are stunning to look at.
Holding hands privately in public.
CSS at nine in the morning.
Fashion week invitations.
Discussing what might have been with friends of exes.
Not being in the hospital on Saturday night.
Those texts I’ve been getting.
Monday, January 29th, 2007
ME: Okay. I’m done, I can’t watch this anymore.
KATHY: What? I said at the beginning of this that we were going to have to commit! We’re going to watch these five women wait to exhale and if you don’t stay then you’re a racist.
ME: I don’t care, I’m going upstairs.
KATHY: You made me watch 15 episodes of The Suite Life of Zack and Cody and now you’re going to leave Waiting to Exhale halfway through?! Fuck you, you racist piece of shit!
ME: I’m leaving.
KATHY: We can watch something else, but not Zack and Cody, or anything with Ashley Tisdale in it. Every R&B song ever recorded is in this movie. I think this is the part where they all dance around a table, and Whitney can’t do it so they put her in the back. We can change the channel now.
Friday, January 26th, 2007
I never mentioned that I was on the 6 with Hugh Jackman, did I? I was going uptown, I think, and there he was. When Kathy’s mom found out she started screaming questions over the phone to me. “Was he short?! Did he look amazing?! Was he with anybody?! How handsome was he?! Did you die?!” There was Jake Gyllenhaal in running shorts on 6th Avenue, then there was Adam Brody on Prince, then Hugh Jackman on the 6, and yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of being the only person on Sullivan with Ryan Reynolds. All but one of which have occurred without Kathy around, which leads me to the point: Kathy is hot celebrity repellant. I mean, she was there for Jake, but he totally ignored us, which was clearly her fault. She did have a moment in Union Square with JC Chasez once for which I was not present, but… well, I said hot celebrity.
On Monday we went to the Waggytail & Here Kitty Kitty benefit at Annex, where all the Stolen Transmission bands were playing. The Oohlas did an expectedly wonderful acoustic set,
I enjoyed Bright Light Fever and Monty Are I,
Dan was emo,
and Gurj and Jo were lesbemo.
More photos here.
Thursday, January 25th, 2007
I got a brand new 250 gigabyte hard drive on which to store all my photos and music making files and the like, so that if there’s a fire, I don’t have to try to carry out drawers full of backup CDs. I just have to grab this little book-sized hard drive and saunter through the smoky parlor and out the front door like a self-important git because my packrat-like electronic documentation of the last five years of my life and the lives of those around me will be safe and intact in one convenient location.
But, so, transferring all my photos from CDs onto this hard drive has reminded me of a lot of things that I had forgotten about. I can be pretty embarrassing. For example, why was I one of the three judges of the Cleveland Gay Pride Rainbow Idol singing competition in 2004, and why did I have an illusionary Mohawk of bleached hair going from my forehead to the back of my neck paired with giant white sunglasses and a button-down and necktie? First off, each of those people sang better than I do, because they were singers. Even the bad ones. Want to know a secret? I’m not a great singer. I’m a good singer, I guess, good enough to not sound like a total retard on record, but definitely not good enough to be a credible judge of a singing competition. Neither is Paula Abdul, I suppose, but I was definitely not the Paula. I was, if anyone, the Randy. I wasn’t particularly nice, but I wasn’t ballsy enough to be a total cock like Simon.
Anyway, it’s photos like these that remind me of events I would have 100% forgotten about forever. Even at the time, I think I knew I looked like an idiot. And then the set ends with a photo of Marissa shoving a corn dog at my lens.
Why did I try to karaoke Bon Jovi’s “Always” in that high a key? Why did Vicky and I crash the Black Policemen’s Picnic in the Park and eat so many sausages? Why, why, why did I move my body like that when Ethan decided he wanted to make a music video for one of my songs? Speaking of, for anyone who’s interested: remember Derek, the Oberlin Decafe lady’s son who was the security guard in that video? Robynn and I saw him on that MTV show Next a few weeks ago and MAN was it hilarious. The girl “next”ed him because he couldn’t read.
Wednesday, January 24th, 2007
Date: Wed, 24 Jan 2007
From: Starlet
To: Brad Walsh
Subject: no really…
ask around, what happened to mary kate’s nose?
i can’t find the photo of it, but she’s in a green dress with a fur
wrap at an hbo party. her nose looks FUCKED up.
ask kathy. she might know something.
i’m over here actually tripping. is it coke nose?
Tuesday, January 23rd, 2007
ME: J. Lo’s Dancelife last night. Hearing “Find A New Way” [Young Love] come through MTV as the theme song.
GURJ: I. KNOW.
ME: I felt 90 years old. So proud.
GURJ: Right?! And “Underneath the Night Sky” is used during the promo preview.
ME: Oh, was it? The show looks like shit, though. So far I hate every person they showed. And not in a fun Real World hate kind of way, I just hate them.
GURJ: I know! They’re all acting so much! Like this is meant to be “reality?”
ME: This is what Laguna Beach did to reality TV. It’s like unreal backlash.
GURJ: It’s BAD.
ME: But as long as Dan makes some cash I’m all for it.
Sometimes I feel like my life is a bad early 90’s movie, set in New York; parties and a photo studio with a giant white backdrop, a model comes in to get his photo taken and it goes smoothly and there’s music playing and maybe alcohol, and so it ends with the inevitable. Only they never show the during, or the after; it’s all montages of closed eyes and photo flashes, maybe the backdrop being pulled down. Where’s the part in 9 ½ Weeks where Mickey Rourke wakes up to someone else having wet the bed?
Monday, January 22nd, 2007
More of my shots from this weekend are here,
Remind me to never chase vodka with beer.
Tom is a model, both runway and print;
Shruti’s again on a mocku-film stint.
Kathy was drinking but not up to par;
Danny and I showed her up at the bar.
Geneva’s a “Meet Your New Crush” from last week,
And Faran and Quinn are quite cute cheek to cheek.
Several times now on Gawker they’ve called her Bai Ling,
But I’m willing to bet that Akiko can sing.
Janelle has a secret, it’s quite plain to see,
Her secret’s the reason she’s smiling for me.
If MisShapes was flooded and teeming with sharks,
The blue would be calmed by one Miss Leigh Lezark.
Jackson may bring screaming fangirls to tears,
But Brian won’t blog about it for two years.
Spray painting stars may be good for a laugh,
But Joshua’s star is a Jew thing, no gaffe.
This guy most certainly does have a name,
But I have forgotten it, does that make me lame?
Drunk girls were hanging out Anna’s windows,
Yelling at strangers like chain smoking crows.
Sarah’s so pale some may think she’s undead;
Do notice she’s grasping poor dear Anna’s head.
Gay rap groups are tiring and often too yell-y,
But genuine talent lies within Butch & Bellie.
I’d like to feed carrots and celery sticks
To perma-surprised socials Adam and Nick.
Romina and Morgan took turns in the swing,
We’re lucky that nobody broke the damn thing.
At Rubulad Anna was smiling a lot,
Perhaps due to tables of brownies with pot.
Saturday, January 20th, 2007
People on ecstasy are ridiculous and hilarious and wonderful. They can spend twenty minutes touching my hair, giggling. By three in the morning last night I was sober in a group of about twelve friends, all of whom were rolling. We were in a place that had so much painted and glittered crap hanging from the ceiling we may very well have been inside Tyra Banks. It snowed like the tundra for the exact three hours we were traveling at three, four, and five in the morning, and there were several points at which I was driving on straight up stretches of ice. By the time we got home, after six, I passed out the moment I hit the bed, and this morning the sun was shining and there was no evidence of the night before when I looked out the window.
Lately, people have been being secretive. “I went to um.. I went out last night.” “I have these plans later on…” “I will just say be careful of him.” “Here, try this, but I won’t say what’s in it.” “I have these feelings about you that I can’t say out loud yet.”
The last two days have been very weird.
