"I want to give a shout out to all my Saudi Arabian brothers and sisters and all my brothers and sisters from all the countries that have oil, if you could all please send me some oil for my jet I would truly appreciate it. But right now, can you believe it, I am actually flying commercial. That's how high gas prices are ok, so I feel you." —P. Diddy
“I have no problem with journalists — many are friends,” he says. “Only if they are really stupid, or if they’ve got bad breath, or if they smell. Yesterday [at the Chanel couture show] I had a problem. I said, ‘I’m sorry, you’ve got to tell this woman that she needs to be taken away. Her smell is not possible.’”
Karl Lagerfeld
Fashion Icon
New York Times Magazine
Photo Credits: Alex|Hates, Flickr
Halfway through reading a CNN article about the opening night of the democratic convention, I came upon a video link titled “Watch as Obama Watches His Wife’s Speech.”
In disbelief I interpreted it slowly in my head:
Not "Watch Obama’s Wife’s speech,” but "Watch Obama as he watches his Wife’s speech?”
I was speechless.
What kind of time does CNN think people have? Who has time to watch 5 minutes of video footage of Obama watching his wife on tv? Some of us have JOBS to do and BILLS to pay; we need our news on-the-go. We don’t have the opportunity to lazily float around in our 90ft yacht eating eggs benedict served by a butler while leisurely watching Barack Obama watch his wife.
What will be next?
“Watch Obama as he watches his daughter watching Sesame Street.” Or
“Watch McCain as he watches his campaign manager watching his wife watch him.” Or
“Watch Obama as he watches Oprah watching him watch himself during the 2004 Democratic Convention Speech that made people start watching him in the first place.”
This whole thing is completely ridiculous I muttered to myself.
Then, about 5 minutes later, I did what anyone with a packed schedule and a healthy dose of curiosity would do: clicked on the link and watched Obama watch his wife.
Today marks the beginning of another wave of frenzied media reporting: The Democratic National Convention… otherwise known to some as the political popularity event that will preempt all regular shows from the TV line up except Project Runway because thankfully, that’s on Bravo.
Immediately after Barack Obama announced that Joe Biden would be his vice presidential running mate a deluge of analytical articles began to drown readers: Would Biden appeal to working class voters? What about the lawsuit Biden’s son is named in? Would that impact the campaign? Why does Biden kiss his mother on the lips like that? Was Biden a better choice than Tim Kaine?
In the midst of all these articles, a “hard hitting” piece of journalism by Politico titled: Biden’s Helmet popped up on the radar yesterday.
Biden’s Helmet is a VERY IMPORTANT article that outlines Biden’s steps not to end the Russia/Georgia conflict, but to “pre-empt baldness.” The article spends a majority of its time speculating about Biden’s suspected hair plugs (because OBVIOUSLY Biden’s possible comb over plays a HUGE impact in our democratic process).
Politico also takes the time to interview HAIR INDUSTRY EXPERTS about this significant issue:
“A quick Politico survey of stylists and hair transplant surgeons — some of whom have followed Biden’s career path for years, while others didn’t know about him until yesterday — found that there was little mystery. “When he had darker hair it was pretty obvious, he had larger plugs,” said Dr. Michael Beehner, medical director of the Saratoga Hair Transplant Center in New York.”
TWO DAYS after Obama’s running mate was announced Politico found an assorted selection of stylists and hair transplant surgeons that had been tracking Biden’s career path FOR YEARS? Extraordinary. CNN and the Associated Press should be ashamed, what were they doing instead? Actually talking about THE ISSUES? Not cool.
Another tremendously thought provoking quote from the article:
“In my view, his haircut and style do not complement his squarish face shape,” added Sky Vega, a stylist in New York. “A forward comb with a serrated fringe would soften that.”
The serrated fringe? Fabulous. Should Biden bump that up to the number one item on his political agenda instead of foreign policy?
In an online news wasteland littered with fluff election articles and uninspired journalism, SURELY this GROUND BREAKING and RELEVANT article will really inspire voters and help them make an informed decision about which candidate should lead our country for the next four years. Thanks Politico!
Photo Credits: Dirt Empire, Flickr
I’ve always felt most babies have it easy—way too easy—so imagine my exuberant delight when I discovered this phantom Johnson & Johnson product in an Onion article titled: Johnson & Johnson Introduces Nothing but Tears Shampoo to Toughen Up Newborns. Excerpt:
"We at Johnson & Johnson have been making bath time a safe and soothing experience for far too long," company CEO William C. Weldon said. "Years of pampering have left our newborns helpless, feeble, and ill-equipped for the arduous road ahead." …"It's time our children got the wake-up call that's been coming to them," Weldon continued. "It's time they cried their precious little eyes out."
"You'll notice a difference after just one use," said Michelle Baker, head of new product development. "Whether it's your newborn's more hardened appearance, the way he now approaches people with guarded skepticism, or just that look on his face that says, 'Oh wait, maybe life isn't all hugs and kisses and rainbows. Maybe I need to get my #$%ing act together.'”
Wish this product had been around when I was a kid—if it had I’d probably get pretty far in this city because I would have a thick skin that even a rhinoceros would envy, and instead of a heart, I’d have a Generation 3 iphone vibrating with the latest election updates inside my chest.
Too dark?
Ok, too dark.
Photo Credits:
“Dalou Masterpiece”
Khanster, Filckr
If I could start an organization it would be called: PEOPLE THAT SUPPORT PEOPLE WHO VEHMENTLY BELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF BIGFOOT…(AND OTHER REALLY CREEPY INDISTINGUISHABLE CREATURES THAT ARE FREAKY AND UGLY).
We would go from city to city doing fundraisers and morning show television appearances designed to raise public awareness about the fact that people who have seen Big Foot (and other really creepy indistinguishable creatures that are freaky and ugly) need our support—not our ridicule.
This entire train of thought was sparked by the recent Big Foot claims from the men in Georgia (attribution: CNN). Obviously these particular men aren’t the best inspiration for the support group because they seem to have an agenda—they sound like fortune seekers with a low budget Big Foot prop closet—but I do believe in the general idea that people who hang out in the woods see some pretty peculiar animals that no other human eye has seen.
How many bizarre and oversized ape-like footprints have to be discovered before we believe there is some sort of weird creature out there that probably wouldn’t be presentable enough to appear at the National Zoo? No, I have never accidentally swam in what I thought was a large puddle and later realized was a Big Foot footprint and no, I haven’t stood on a tiny island in Scotland and realized that the patch of gravel I’m eating haggis on is moving because it’s actually the third hump of a Lochness Monster. But I do know that other people see FREAKY things. We see genetic mutations in human beings all the time—the yearly Oprah Show spectacular always seems to feature twin babies with conjoined heads (or free cars for the ENTIRE audience). So why is it such a stretch to believe that the same thing can happen with animals??
For everyone out there who has seen a UFO that everyone else disputed, or for all the intuitive kids that have seen a crying baby in a deserted farmhouse that everyone else swore was empty, and for all the wide-eyed twenty-something-year-old females who have seen a miniature unicorn with the body of a deer skulking across the street in a residential neighborhood at night—not that I saw that or anything—UNIDENTIFIABLE creatures DO exist!
And this imaginary support group, PEOPLE THAT SUPPORT PEOPLE WHO VEHMENTLY BELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF BIGFOOT…(AND OTHER REALLY CREEPY INDISTINGUISHABLE CREATURES THAT ARE FREAKY AND UGLY), if it existed, would be there for all of these people. A place where victims could come, narrate their traumatic stories and share their deepest fears.
A place where these people would be applauded for their valiant willingness to share their tales and support group volunteers would look at their grainy camera phone pictures of said creatures not with scorn, but with childlike belief.
An environment that would welcome these traumatized people with open arms, a mug of a warm chocolate, and a waterproof, Energizer battery-equipped flash light for them to use as they venture back into the woods to conduct a search party to find and capture these creatures.
[Wait… you thought the support group volunteers would join them on their search parties? Yea, right.
The tag line of this organization would be: “Kind, but not crazy too.”]
Photo Credits: justtohottotouch, Flickr
Working or living in DC is like being trapped inside a CNN Headline News segment that’s tortuously on REPEAT. Every piece of political news is amplified ten times louder than anywhere else in America; the triumphs of politicians are more grandiose and the scandals are more even more disgraceful.
When it comes to politics, DC takes itself very seriously. So seriously that the 2007 Funniest Celebrity in Washington Contest was won by an editor of The Onion WHO LIVES IN NEW YORK CITY.
This is also why shows like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report are welcome like 2 tablets of Advil PM would be after sleeping on a jack hammer all night long. They take scrutinize politicians, analyze their platforms, and pick apart their messages, much like a ravenous carnivore picking apart the flesh from a chicken wing bone. And every time we see one of these shows showcasing yet ANOTHER politician contradicting themselves, it gives us the confidence to smirk when we pass a self-righteous senator in the Capitol Hill Starbucks who thinks he should get his coffee faster than we do because he has bills to filibuster.
The New York Times has an article titled “Is John Stewart the Most Trusted Man in America?” The article makes a case for John Stewart’s influence on The Daily Show and subsequently renewed youth interest in politics.
Excerpt:
“TO the former NBC anchor Tom Brokaw, Mr. Stewart serves as “the citizens’ surrogate,” penetrating “the insiders’ cult of American presidential politics.” …He’s the guy willing to say the emperor has no clothes, to wonder why in Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton’s “It’s 3 a.m.” ad no one picks up the phone in the White House before six rings, to ask why a preinvasion meeting in March 2003 between President Bush and his allies took all of an hour — the “time it takes LensCrafters to make you a pair of bifocals” to discuss “a war that could destroy the global order.””
Successful humor graduates of The Daily Show include: Stephen Colbert, Steve Carell, Demetri Martin, John Hodgman, etc…
Looks like Saturday Night Live needs to take a page from The Daily Show playbook.
Photo Credits: Centrifuga, Flickr
Much like a chameleon with an identity crisis, the blog is going through some design changes right now.
They should be finalized soon.
[Credits]
Photo title: Michael McLaverty’s Type Writer
Photo Credits for the current banner go to: Jimieye.
Check out his Flickr stream…
1. CNN video of George Bush hugging two bikini clad Olympians. (The bizarre lower back pat he gives one of the bikini girls is delightfully awkward to witness).
2. The tacky website of a potbellied, miniature pet pig breeder that considers itself upscale. Apparently there are potbellied pigs the size of hamsters called “Royal Dandies”—there is so much to be said about this, but some days you just don’t have the energy to go there.
Be sure to check out the photo gallery—the image of a miniature pet pig on a leash sucking milk out of a feeding bottle will haunt you. Forever.
Photo Credits: dreamwizarD, Flickr
There’s nothing more enjoyable than an imperceptibly sardonic New York Times style section article about a current “fashionable” trend that 0.2 percent of Americans will ever care about.
The latest and most amusing of these trends is: consuming elitist ice. Apparently, everyday generic ice cubes are no longer cool enough for drinks, there’s a new standard for ice and it’s GOURMET ICE.
As with most NYT style articles, the story begins with an anecdote:
“…Ms. Polk noted a change in the habits of her guests, who casually started bringing their own ice, she said. Her ice, as it eventually turned out, was apparently not to her friends’ liking... “B.Y.O.I. was a turning point for me,” Ms. Polk said of the moment at which she exited the world of generic ice use and entered another.”
Friends BRINGING THEIR OWN ICE to her parties because they felt that her ice was GENERIC? Polk had a decision to make: a) Get new friends, b) Continue letting her friends bring their superior ice to her parties, or c) forever walk away from the world of generic ice and become an ice snob.
She picked the course of action that made sense to her: Option C.
Best ridiculous quotes from this article:
#1. “Ice is a food,” said Jane McEwen the executive director of the International Packaged Ice Association, voicing a mantra often heard in an industry laboring to lend gourmet associations to something seasonal, perishable and cheap.”
(What she should have said: “Ice is a food…if you have an eating disorder.”)
2. “Ice, as Ms. McEwen said, is water’s “sister product.”
And my favorite quote by Ms. McEwen who is obviously and desperately trying to convince the world that her job is SO IMPORTANT that she needs to be paid 6 FIGURES to get mulititudes to foolishly buy into the idea of GOURMET ICE:
#3. “You want to be sure you are getting good ice,” Ms. McEwen said. “If it isn’t certified, how do you know?”
Photo Credits: karamellsauce, Flickr
The BBC ran this story about a girl with cataplexy. In this particular instance it manifests itself with laughter, meaning when something makes her laugh, the laughter weakens her stomach muscles until she falls over.
Underwood (the girl with cataplexy in the article) will probably have to avoid listening to jokes, watching comedies and dating funny people to limit her spontaneous laugher. Or she’ll have to suppress her laughter her entire life.
You never appreciate your ability to laugh until you can’t laugh without falling over and giving yourself a concussion.
Photo credits: Fujoshi, Flickr
It’s not that I don’t care about the paparazzi harassing celebrities—okay fine: I don’t care about the paparazzi harassing celebrities.
Honestly the only people in America who genuinely care about paparazzi harassment are celebrities, people who think they are celebrities but actually aren’t, and a couple random fans who find that sticking up for a celebrity who doesn’t know or care about their existence nourishes their spirit and gives their lives a sense of purpose.
Bottom line: Everyone is aware of the twisted dependent relationship that thrives between celebrities and paparazzi. Celebrities act like they abhor the media and then the split second the media ignores them to chase some new starlet with bouncier implants they have a meltdown, get a DUI, and check into Betty Ford. In response, the paparazzi come rushing back (to the secret delight of the stars), but publicly they act irritated with paparazzi all over again. It’s a delicately perverse dance and everyone knows their role and plays their part to the best of their ability.
Anyway, last week a councilman in LA called a SPECIAL Task Force meeting (oooooohhhhh) to give out botox shots and discuss the possibility of implementing new restrictions on the paparazzi. (Okay fine—there was no botox involved).
Celebrities like John Mayer (check out his blog) and Eric Roberts showed up to testify. Amusingly enough, the paparazzi light-heartedly stood on the front steps of City Hall waiting to snap pictures of the celebrities as they walked into a SPECIAL meeting where they would complain about the paparazzi waiting on the front steps to snap pictures of them (the irony is fantastic isn’t it?)
John Mayer started out by solemnly reading his testimony. Here’s a snippet:
“Sadly, if I were someone who wanted to do harm to a celebrity - of which there are many - my best bet in succeeding today would be to hold a camera… I don't sit before you today to ask that you ban the paparazzi. I'm asking you to regulate it. Officialize it. Tax it. Legitimize it. A big white P on a yellow license plate says the driver works for an accredited photo agency...”
Sadly, as John Mayer was earnestly testifying his heart away about how terrible the paparazzi is and how much they endanger him and all his pals you could tell everyone in the room was all: “Man I wish he would just SING his testimony instead of reading it. Maybe to the tune of “Your Body is a Wonderland?” If we hand him an acoustic guitar that appears out of nowhere would he do it? And would he mind if the judge slowly started waving a candle? Or if Councilman Rick ripped open his shirt and revealed “I LOVE YOU JOHN MAYER” shorn into his forest-like chest?”
Now in the midst of this craziness LA Chief of Police William Bratton really won my heart. Here’s how: When asked why he wasn’t participating in the SPECIAL task force meeting to cater to celebrities and receive free botox shots he responded: "If you notice, since Britney started wearing clothes and behaving; Paris is out of town not bothering anybody anymore, thank God, and evidently, Lindsay Lohan has gone gay, we don't seem to have much of an issue [with the paparazzi]."
For that down-to-earth quote someone should knight this man and then get him his own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
He seems to be the only sane one left in LA—if that doesn’t deserve a star, I don’t know what does.
Photo Credits to Billaday: check out his Flickr page
Friend: Oh we attended this fabulous dinner party the other night. My friend served us homemade quiche—which he learned how to make when he lived in France.
Me (enviously: Ooooooohhh sounds good.
Friend: We actually played a really fun game. Everyone had to go around the table and list their most bourgeoisie trait and their most proletariat one.
Me: What did people say?
Friend: Well one guy said his bourgie trait is that he eats his breakfast every morning with forks, knives, and spoons made from pure silver.
Me (dryly): So he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and apparently he never took it out. His proletariat trait?
Friend: He gets a ham and cheese melt from Arby’s.
Me: That’s not THAT proletariat.
Friend: Arby’s?
Me: It’s kind of ghetto, but not too ghetto. What did D say his bourgie trait was?
Friend: Doing triathlons.
Me: Oh paying heaps of money to race other people when you can race them for free? So bourgie I can’t even talk about it. His proletariat trait?
Friend: Swimming in tiny spandex Speedos in public pools. Very Euro-Trash.
Me: That’s not proletariat! That’s so bourgie! Mainly rich people swim in undersized gold-plated Speedos in public. You’ll never catch an everyday guy doing that!
Friend: You’re right; the proletariat thing would be to swim in Old Navy trunks.
Me: Gosh, your friends don’t know what real proletariat traits are. What’s your bourgie trait?
Friend: Exfoliating hand lotion. (Looks at me defensively). It keeps your hands soft and smooth! My proletariat trait is my car.
Me: Haha, yes your car definitely is. Not because of the make, but because you don’t have a radio or CD player and you use your old computer speakers attached to your ipod for music in the car.
Friend: Well, what’s yours?
Me: My bourgie one, I don’t know? Maybe quoting the New Yorker or some other frou frou publication like that in casual conversation? Is that one of mine?
Friend (nods in agreement): And your proletariat one?
Me (lower my voice and lean forward): Yesterday when my roommate was out—instead of watching the Oscar worthy Judy Dench movie I had rented—I sat on the floor of my living room at 11:30 at night and ate oily chicken wings while watching reality TV and delightedly clapping my hot sauce coated hands when people got eliminated and kicked out of the house. I would have NEVER done any of that that if my roommate was home.
Friend: HAHAHA
New low if I might say so myself.
Photo Credits go to ercwttmn. Check out his flickr stream.
Yesterday I received the strangest thank you card.
It started out with:
Dear [insert my name],
Thank you for the diaper cake. [SCReeeeeeeeeeCH]
Diaper cake?
Diaper cake?!
I almost choked on my cereal.
I did not give ANYONE a diaper cake.
I have no idea what a diaper cake even is. Or what it does.
I don’t even know why someone would put a ‘diaper’ and a ‘cake’ in the same invention.
The card continued:
“It was amazing how quickly those diapers got used. Sometimes we’d use 4 before the diaper even made it on our little Sandy.”
Who was little Sandy? More importantly how could an acquaintance even think I got them A DIAPER CAKE? In a retail-rich world, where there are so many cool gifts you can give to babies (American Express gift cards, New Yorker Subscriptions, Fisher Price Ferraris, play dough stock) why would I choose a DIAPER CAKE?
I wouldn’t even be caught ordering a diaper cake online. My credit card company would probably call me:
American Express: Ma’am we noticed some suspicious activity on your card and wanted to run this by you.
Me: Suspicious activity? Oh no! Really?! What could it be?
American Express: Did you recently purchase…a… how do I put this: a DIAPER CAKE? (suppressed laughter).
Gifts remind you of the gift-giver. If I bought someone a diaper cake they’d think of me every time their baby ate cake and then crapped his pants.
Unacceptable.
My current challenge is figuring out the correct etiquette to address this situation:
a) I could find my acquaintance and say: Hey, so about the appalling diaper cake you think I got you…
Disadvantage of this route: calls attention to the fact that I actually forgot to get her anything at all. And that I had no idea she’d had a “little Sandy”.
b) I could find her and say: Hey I didn’t actually didn’t get you a diaper cake but I did get you this [insert really cool gift for her baby] instead.
Disadvantage: a friend, who is like the D.C. version of Miss Manners, says this option is in poor taste. Apparently I’ve missed the window on getting the baby a gift.
c) Just not acknowledge the whole thing and have my reputation besmirched by a dirty diaper cake.
What to do?
Photo Credit: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/138/325752626_69392aa6b1.jpg
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