So Not A Champion

Last night I saw this new Pepsi ad with Britney Spears, Pink, and Beyonce (Beyonce! we thought you were better than this). It involved the three of them as Roman gladiators singing We Are The Champions by Queen. I’m beginning to hate Britney again. There really is such thing as over-saturating the market.

I’ve decided that she is tragic, but in a safe way. She’s a reincarnation of Marilyn Monroe, but in this day in age fame has gotten to be this big machine that is more extreme and far reaching, but also highly controlled. Marilyn has been reincarnated 1000x over by now, so I guess Britney is just a jaded, played out version of her.

Sure she’s probably a coke head and a total wreck, but there’s no danger that she'll committing suicide alone in a hotel room. She’s protected by her status as a cliché—only B-list celebrities like Jonathan Brandis have unexpected deaths anymore.

I’ve been thinking about her book, A Mother's Gift, the fictional one by her and her mom. Random House paid $1 million for it and inside info is that they got burned. Supposedly because Britney didn’t bother marketing it at all. The thing just tanked. Really though, I don’t think it was Britney’s fault, I mean she wasn't the one who wrote it, and besides Fiction!?! Worst of all they totally played up the good girl angle, which is so not the point of her. Britney is a publicity whore; she’d shill hemorrhoid cream if you paid her enough. The whole point of Britney Spears is that she is exploited and surrounded by scandal and is totally corrupted. This is the reason she is rich and famous, not for looking cute and singing like a robotic Care Bear.

Even the little girls realize this to an extent. I know it probably sounds trite, but I think the best comparison is Barbie. As a kid I loved Barbie, but I never bought into the frilly wholesomeness that Mattel tries to pass off to parents. The whole point was that underneath all that pink and cuteness Barbie was stacked. Why else would every Barbie game deteriorate into her and Ken making it in the back of the 57 Chevy? This is why they make a Doctor Barbie and not a Nursing Home Attendent Barbie.

I’m not saying Britney’s book should have been about sex, that would have been really sick, I’m saying the book never should have been written and Random House never should have paid $1 million for it. Britney was never meant to promote literacy or hemorrhoid creams, and just because she’s willing doesn’t mean she should.

Light My Fire

I don't know what to write about tonight...so I guess I'll tell one of my favorite, most thrilling stories from college. The first time my dorm set fire. It happened twice that year, the second time causing more lasting damage, but the first time was particularly harrowing for moi.

At the time me, my roomate, and the kids across the hall had all decided that we should make our two rooms into a commune. We put all the beds in one room. Three of us put our matresses on the floor to make one big bed and we made our arch-enemy, the baby talkng girl, sleep alone up on the top of a bunk bed. We put all the desks in the other room, so we had a bedroom and a workroom, and with the addition of a pair of pet mice it was a messy, stinky pit.

This was when we started our sandwich business. We stole ingredients from the cafeteria and made fliers. We'd deliver peanut butter and banana sandwiches to your dorm room at any hour day or night. If people had seen the conditions those sandwiches were made under we certaintly wouldn't have had so many calls, but as it was we were reeling in the dough--100% profits and we spent it all on pot.

The night of the fire I was at my desk in the work room. My semester paper was due very soon, so I was sitting in front of my computer procrastinating. The stereo was on and I was talking on the phone. The door was shut and everyone else was across hall. As I sat by my computer, in front of the window, fire truck pulled up on the lawn. "Woah," I exclaimed "something is on fire!" I went back to my conversation and a few seconds later another trunk pulled up, I noticed all the kids standing outside, "Wow, something really is on fire!" I said as I stood up and leaned against the window to get a better look.

A security guard on the lawn caught my eye. He started waving at me furiously, "oh my God!" I yelled, "I've got to get out of the building!" I hung up and ran out into the hallway expecting to see my other commune members, but everyone was gone. They'd left without me! I didn't have time to put my shoes on even though it was late November. I ran into the stairwell and found that it was completely filled with black smoke, "Oh My God!" I exclaimed again, but before I could do anything an arm emerged from the smoke. It was the security guard. He grabbed me and we ran down the pitch black stairs. I ran out of the building and across the wet lawn.

I stood outside in my stocking feet staring at the flames filling one of the first floor bedrooms. The fire raged for quite a while and I was forced to retreat into the tea house to warm my feet. Eventually the flames went out and the damage wasn't so bad. My friends all told me that they'd thought I'd already left the building. The next day I called my teacher and asked for an extension on my paper. She gave it to me, I think mostly because she wanted to hear what happened. It turned out a girl on the bottom floor had left a lit cigarette (we're not sure what kind) in an ashtray and it somehow rolled out into the closet catching on her highly flamiable wardrobe.

Super chill

All of you sissies who didn't come to freeze tag on Sunday because of the cold really missed out. There were about 13 people and it was rad. Afterwards we went to Chinatown and ate big bowls of hot soup. Later that evening it was pointed out to me that I would most likely be one of the only people to get laid as a direct result of freeze tag. How could I resist when faced with such a possibility?

The Armpit of America: Not So Bad

On the way to New Jersey yesterday my co-workers and I recgonized that it is not the most choice place to go. My boss said that she and her ex-husband taught their 5 year old son to claim he'd never been if anyone should ask.

I think it surprised us all a bit when it turned out to be a pretty fun. We arrived at 4 and figured we'd be leaving around 6, but we all stayed on till midnight. We cooked and played a board game and drank lots of white wine.

Beforehand the senior editor said she'd pictured it being like The Big Chill, and it sort of was. The group of us cooking and sipping wine and wearing sweaters while oldies played. Normally such a situation would make me scoff at the the yuppie scum they were turning me into, but it was actually pretty quant. Mostly I gained some real insight into the lives of my co-workers without anyone resorting to any of those uncomfortable prying questions that I hate so much.

I think that when I go back to work on Monday I won't feel quite so out of place anymore.

New Jersey Adventure

Lately I've really been neglecting my blog due to my computer problems. I just remembered that the last time it was working I spilled a glass of water and some splashed on the computer, lots splashed on the keyboard. I dried it off and figured it was fine, because it showed no signs of injury. I guess I was wrong.

I'm about leave for a little trip into the wild of New Jersey with my co-workers. Yes, I see them all week and now on a Saturday too, somehow I feel ok about it though. It's been a while since I took a road trip and I guess I'm itching to go anywhere, besides it's a chance to see the home of my boss and the associate editor. I'm very curious.

Technology = My Enemy

So my computer is busted. I don't know what happened, but it pretends like it's going to turn on, gets to the wallpaper of the old man standing on a street corner in a plaid coat and red hunting cap, and then it just sort of wheezes and stops--the cursor impotently hovering over that frozen image of the old man. I've hijacked my roomate's computer for this entry, but if the thing doesn't fix itself soon I'm going to freak out.

There was a point in time when I came to learn that nothing written on a computer actually exists untill you print (unless of course it's on the internet, but that's a whole other life lesson). At school I printed tirelessly-- every third paragraph I'd run to the library, foolishly I never had a printer of my own. That is not untill last spring, when I got a free one someone left among all the old clothes and discarded tupperwear in front of the Tea House. I was thrilled by the find, but when I finally got around to hooking it up it told me it needed a new ink cartridge. Right now it's sitting under my desk in a resigning heap. Now my computer won't turn on and I've got to face the fact that whatever is on there doesn't really exist.

This is why I'm freaking out. It's like being faced with your own mortality. I'm conflicted--feeling like all those word files were all really nothing, pitiful wastes of time, and at the same time like I should have done more. Maybe if I'd worked harder, come out with something substantial it wouldn't seem so pitful and, hell, I'd probably have more of a record of it. The thing is there isn't really one thing I can put my finger on and say: oh that thing, that's where it all accumulated to, that's the real piece of work, the one that matters. Mostly it's the little things that I might have forgotten about--really it all comes down to individual sentences, a turn of a phrase, the littlest whispers of an inspired thought.

Honestly though, I know my old man computer isn't actually dead. I've been assured that if worst comes to worst all I need is a computer nerd to get the files off of it for me.

My thoughts return to a certain especially hot computer nerd from school. Big pants and a skateboard is all I'm willing to say. It was Sophomore year and this same stupid computer was having problems, I'd just gotten it and even as I was fist setting it up it behaved like a crumgeon. The hot computer nerd payed me a house call and it was just like one of those 70's pornos with the plumber and the housewife, except the sex part was only in my head.

Anyway, my point is there may be a silver lining here.

Something creepy and oddly fascinating.

www.pixyland.org

Top Horror Movies

Hand That Rocks The Cradle: This film made my 6th grade birthday party.

Satan’s Cheerleaders
I found this video at the local thrift store. It is from the very early 80’s and is extremely low budget. It is about a squad of super dumb, slutty cheerleaders who are kidnapped by satan worshippers. Surprisingly the body count in this film is very low. The surprise ending, however, makes it all worthwhile.

Nightmare on Elms Street 1
Most people don’t realize that the first of this series stars a very young Johnny Depp. There are many scenes that take place at the high school, something which always entertains me.

Friday The 13th: Kevin Bacon gets stabbed through a matress while m.o.ing with a girl.

The few admirable favorites:
The Shining
RoseMary’s Baby
Psycho

****
I recently saw a show about Patty Hearst: one of my favorite cultural phenomenon. It got me wondering, why didn't we ever try something like this at Sarah Lawrence? There were plenty of rich girls just dying to be martyrs for such a cause and everyone loved the rightous psudo-politcal stuff. I think that people just aren't as nuts as they used to be. Everyone is too jaded and unwilling to go out on a limb. Plus most SLC students would probably be too scared to handle firearms.

Wanna Play Ambulance?

Last night we watched a horror movie from the 80’s called Bloody Birthday. It is the greatest. It involves a team of evil children a horror movie theme that I can't get enogh of. The premise is that these three sweet looking, blond haired tykes were been born on the same day-- the day of a solar eclipse. As a result their astrological charts show that something in their psyche has been eclipsed as well, their conscience. The kids become killing machines for no apparent reason.

Steven is the leader of the group, this third grader has big glasses, a smart haircut, and a Members Only jacket. He is a very shrewd little monster who comes up with an ingenious way of convincing everyone he’s innocent.

Debbie is an evil little girl with an abnormally large forehead, she looked like a younger version of the lead from Satan’s Cheerleaders (another great horror movie). In one of the first scenes she is charging the boys money to look through a peep hole in her closet so they can watch her teenage sister (played by Julie Brown of Earth Girls Are Easy fame) dance around naked. She later shoots this sister through the same peep hole with a bow and arrow.

There isn’t much to say about the third child, Curtis, he pretty much follows orders.

There was not a dull moment in this film and it simply baffles me that it hasn’t received the same recognition as similar films.

Arts Such As Crafts

First I would like to announce that there will be a gigantic game of freeze tag on Wall Street Sunday January 25th at 3pm. Suits, ties, and briefcases are optional, but encouraged. There will be hot apple cider while it lasts. Jan 25 is supposed to be a little warmer than right now, so it won’t be actual freeze tag.

Last night I went to some Gallery openings in Brooklyn. There was one place that had a bunch of art made out of crafts materials. All the old supplies from childhood art projects and the funny knick knacks at Grandma’s house.

There was a thing on the ceiling that looked like a huge bee’s hive with bees peeling off it and sitting on the surrounding walls and ceiling. It was made out of multicolored pipe cleaners and those little plastic beads that are shaped sort of like jacks and stack on top of each other to make around tube shape. Just seeing those beads brought a rush of nostalgia. I’d forgotten all about those little beads and there was something weirdly comforting about being reminded of them.

The most amazing thing was a life size horse that was lying on a rug in the center of the room. It’s fur was all latchhooked yarn. It’s body was in the perfect shape of a horse. Like all good crafts it was an interesting mix of skillful workmanship and tackiness. There were also crocheted pillows with matchbook cars set on them and cases containing butterfly specimens, but the butterflies were the kind made from pipecleaners, netting, wire, and glitter. I remember these from a childhood birthday party, I thought they were the most beautiful thing in the world. My friend had a birthday party with the theme of Madam Butterfly, everyone got a fake butterfly for her hair and a little homemade kimono. In the second room the theme was birds. There were pictures of birds taken from an old fieldguide and the artist had drawn over them, giving the birds sandals and strange outfits and things. The drawings blended into the original pictures so well that at first I thought the artist had drawn the whole thing. It was all a part of this gallery opening thing that happens in Williamsburg every third Friday of the month. I think I’ll go every month.

Flight of the Navigator

I just got Instant Messenger. I'm not really sure how it works but it would be nice to get a message, so if you know how you should send me one.

I was asked a while back to say a few words about The Flight of the Navigator.

First some little known facts:
1. The director also worked on classic The Boy in the Plastic Bubble, starring John Travolta.
2. Pee Wee Herman is the voice of Max, the robot that controls the Navigator.

This was a brilliant movie and I pity any child of the 80's who was denied the joy of seeing it. Every single person who wrote a comment on IMDB said it was a great movie. A group of strangers on the internet all agreeing positively about something, that never happens.

The movie is about a kid in the 1970's who falls through a time warp while walking through the woods with his younger brother. He ends up 7 years into the future, in the 80's. When he turns up, but hasn't aged at all he is subjected to endless medical tests and has to live in a room with a two way mirror. The whole idea of going into the future only a tiny bit is really trippy, pop music and fashion are suddenly totally different and the kid doesn't know anything, weirdest of all his little brother is suddenly a teenager and older than he is.

The kid ends up on a flying saucer (I don't really remember how) and it's sort of like ET, but less creepy. At the time it made the present feel very futuristic. It was fitting, becuase everyone was obsessed with the future in the 80's, the 80's even seem more futuristic than things do now. This is one of those great movies that BlockBuster is sure not to own.

I'm addicted to television

I just walked into the other room, on tv there was a man with a shaved head wearing big spikey armor on his sholders, like he was from the dark ages. He was dancing around to cheezy electronic music, juggiling chainsaws while red lights bounced across the stage. I was in awe, what station could this be? Is this what The Spike network has to offer? Then the announcer came back and it turned out it was the Spanish channel. Then they showed an ad for a variety show that included midgets getting married, just like an old time freak show. The wonder never ends.

Leeza on Acid

I just watched America’s Top Model, I only meant to watch a few minutes, but then I couldn’t stop. I think this season might be better than the last. The girls seem younger and therefore more pathetic and foolish. There were already two crying fits in the first episode. I have to wonder though, how can reality tv shows get away with always using the same stupid formula? Why always the little notes telling them they have to wake up at 5 am? I must say one of the most brilliant things about Paradise Hotel was that these simple formulas somehow became magical, simply because the contestants couldn’t always read aloud very well and were mostly psychopaths.

One of the highlights of tonight's America’s Top Model was when one girl’s morals were put under fire. The girl from Georgia, who is a wife and mother and also the designated plus size model (meaning over a size 6-- the heffer) refused to pose as “eve” wearing only body paint next to an “adam” who was totally naked. She freaked out and cried and said, “look at those girls, they’ve got their crotches right there, next to that guy’s face. That’s for my husband! If I do this then how is it…special?” It doesn’t sound like it, but it was actually sincere and innocent. She got booted off immediately, but not until Tyra Banks got a chance to tell that world the she “loves plus size, just loves it!”. I know what she means, some of my best friends are plus sizes. I just think that’s so great, you know, if you’re one of those.

The Simple Life post-show interview special was the stupidest thing on television. It was hosted by Leeza Gibbens! The lamest possible person in the universe. The whole thing was cheesy and completely pointless and I wouldn’t have been able to watch it if I hadn’t multi-tasked with a game of Trivial Pursuit.

I think I was once a guest on a live taping of the show Leeza, although I might be getting her confused with someone else. Lea was there. It was one of those times when your mom does something so stupid and embarrassing it’s hard to even believe. For one thing she was wearing a big weird scarf tied onto a bun in her hair. The topic of the show was women who are endangered by their ex-husbands or ex-boyfriends. A woman was up on the stage whose ex-boyfriend plotted to throw acid on her face to scar her for life. My mom stood up and said to this woman, “I think he must have really loved you to be driven to do this.” Leeza herself had to tell my mom how wrong she was. Yeah, way to set a positive example mom, I hope someday someone loves me enough to show it with acid.

Stars in your eyes

I’m obsessed with Astroabby horoscopes. They are incredibly specific and either completely wrong or eerily correct. This week it tells me that my love meter is on 9, but it also suggests that I look into an online dating service. What is Astroabby trying to do to me?! Isn’t it bad enough already that I’m reading online horoscopes? Truthfully this isn’t the first time that the notion of online personals has been raised, but as of yet I have not been willing to cross that line. I refuse to become Nora the feminist club girl! I have to be honest though, whenever Astroabby suggests something I am compelled to think that I might miss my destiny by not complying with her wishes immediately. Astroabby has sent my out in snow storms for nothing, but I keep coming back. At this very moment I’m on the verge of contacting “loveninja” or “punk taoist” before collapsing my bed in miserable loneliness.

Surreal World

Tonight was the first episode of The Surreal World starring Tammy Fay, Ron Jeremy, Vanilla Ice, Eric Estrada from Chips, some drunk girl from The Real World Las Vegas, and a plastic Bay Watch lady. I got to watch it all on my new crystal clear stolen cable reception. It was equally as incredible as the first Surreal World starring Webster, Andrea from 90210, Corey Feldman, MC Hammer and others.

Tammy Fay is the total star of the show. She is a cute southern lady just like my former film teacher. Every time someone swore or started talking about sex she would cover her ears, yet there was nothing prudish about her, she wore skin tight acid wash jeans and pounds of make-up. Her eyelashes are cartoonishly thick. Are they false? Eyelash implants? God’s gift?

Ron Jeremy took an instant liking to her and kept flirting and commenting on her cute figure. It sounds gross, but it was sort of sweet. I expected him to go for the younger ladies, which he did, but he kept coming back to Tammy Fay. Maybe he was intrigued by her chastity.

Vanilla Ice was the most disturbing. He was incredibly angry the whole show. He kept saying how cheesy his Vanilla Ice image was and drew all over the retro picture they put up of him. Unlike The New Kids On The Block it is apparent that he hasn’t reconciled with his plummeted fame. If he was smart he would realize that it was so long ago people are now into him for the irony and nostalgia factors. Tammy Fay kept assuring him that she’d help him work through his pain. I’m hoping she will, his constant bitching could get annoying.

They showed clips from future episodes which will include guest appearances from many other third rate celebrities, lots of crying from Tammy Fay, and creepily enough, nudity.

I love that television has finally reach this point of self mockery. The only problem with The Surreal World is that it cuts into my real favorite show, Arrested Development, which is in fact the funniest show on tv. The surprising thing is that it’s created by Ron Howard. When I found this out I was shocked and astounded. Just goes to show that not all child actors and stars of cheesy sitcoms will end up on the Surreal World.

I love tv

This evening’s special project has been stealing the basic cable channels. As a result I will be able to watch Spike TV for men (I’ve wanted this for so long), the weather channel, the history channel, and others. I think this is going to do wonders for my blog, I’ll be able to write about tv all the time and it will keep me out of trouble.

Last night I went to a birthday party for The Black Table with an editor from my job. She got the editor of the magazine to tell us exciting stories about meeting Hunter S. Thompson and brining him explosives to get an interview. He also met Ally Sheedy, one of my personal faves. She ate with her hands and kissed him on the forehead a few times. Then some blond chick showed up and he stopped talking to me. It was ok though, he was a nerdy and excessively drunk and it was apparent she was using him to get to Mr. Life as a Loser. What a slut.

Dr. Z

Well, I didn’t write while I was at work today, because I was super busy all the way until 7:30. I’ve discovered that in the corporate universe a standard way to make you’re superiors pity you is to act like you are so stressed out and you could crack at any moment. They probably won’t lessen you’re work load much, but when they ask you to do things they will be very very cautious about it. "I know how much work there is, but if you get a second, and don't stress about this, but when you have a spare moment could you?"

Sparkletastic!

I LOVE it when people comment on my blog. Please continue.
The sparkle fattie/ Fantasie Lady debate is very intriguing. If I may, I would like to plagerize and invade privacy by reprinting an amazing friendster message I received on this very subject from a friendster known as Barb. It was such a great message that I have it posted on my wall. It is in response to interest raised by a certain Fantasie lady who has inspired many a hotly contested debate herself.

Here it is:
"The only real attraction to ________ came when I read that she was a bitch in one of her testimonials. I think it even was mentioned a couple of times that she was a complete fucking bitch. I became excited by this idea and wanted to be near her. I don’t think you should introduce us though. Perhaps she’s not the one, but someday I will befriend a girl like her and I will discover the mysteries of the bulimic party girl, those sad and terrible mysteries, and perhaps a little witty abuse will be handed my way as well. Perhaps I like these girls because I feel absolutely no competition with them. I just am not actually offended by anything they do and find it only fascinating and amusing , especially the way they treat me which is often not very kindly, but usually hilariously funny. They are passionate in some misguided and self destructive way that I am too, but at the same time I believe they are somewhat insane because I believe them to be entirely insincere in every way which is an absolutely incredible idea. In this sense they are absolutely sincere. They explode the meaning of the idea of sincerity, the distinction just no longer exists n their presence. They just seem like aliens to me, a different species from me entirely, and who can resist the temptation to look at deformities and to lie with deformities in the sex act."

The greatest thing about this letter is that Barb somehow, accidentally sent it to a professor at her school. He was very impressed and slightly disturbed by it.

I think we can all agree that Fantasie ladies are fascinating, much of this is due to their bitchy self-centeredness. I personally feel that they are best admired from afar. As for Nicole Ritchie and the bleach incident, I like to think that as with the stolen bird house someone wrote a check for a new pool table. Jorge I want you to know we loved you as a pisser and we love you now.

Come on O.C.!

I recognize that I haven’t been writing much, but on friday my boss is going to LA, so for the next week and a half I’ll be writing everyday while I’m at work. I promise.

I realized this evening that The O.C. is starting to bore me. It’s a sad fact, but it was undeniable when I expected it to be over, checked my watch, and as dismayed to find that there was still 15 minutes left of the episode. I am so annoyed by the completely unrealistic turn they’ve taken with the character of Luke.

He started out as the very one dimensional rich asshole character, which I was fine with. He was reminiscent of the rich asshole from many a classic ‘80s film. They’ve now decided to give him “depth” by making him have a gay dad just out of the closet and a new personality that’s all goofy and idiotic and not at all threatening. There sure is no better way to reduce the threat of a once violent bully character than to connect him to gayness. How could anyone’s personality change so drastically? Ryan and Marissa don’t even feel weird about making out in front of him, it’s as if having a gay dad has castrated him. He doesn’t want to start fights, he’s lost interest in Marissa, he can’t even change a tire on his own truck. Total pansy.

The Simple Life, however, was as fabulous as ever. The girls got Arkansas boyfriends and Nicole’s purse got stolen at a bar, in retaliation she destroyed a pool table by throwing bleach all over it. That girl kicks ass.

Ps. Tonight's dinner: brussels sprouts and mock corn dogs.

The Special People's Club

The most recent comment to December 4th entry “On Mtv’s Rich Girls" is very intriguing. It comes from someone named Andrew who has felt the need to adamantly defend the girls, particularly on the subject of their ugly mugs. He also corrected my spelling of Ally’s name. I’ve been prompted to wonder if this mysterious commentor could be a friend of the girls. Perhaps it is the very prom date who puked from too much coffee? Or maybe it is the girls themselves writing under a pen name? At any rate my hatred of the girls stands. The entire point of the program is to allow the viewer to feel superior to them and all rich girls alike. Not since Tori Spelling has such an opportunity arose. Hideous gluttonous beasts all of you!

Andrew's Comment:
I feel that you say these things because you have nothing better to do with your time other then bag on people I mean who are you to judge others that just shows how shallow you are and how much you wish you had money like that to spend. You can't just look at them and say these things because you don't even know them and from what it shows on the t.v. they are both kind hearted you ladies, I also feel that they are both very good looking. so why don't you try to find something better to do with your time other then trying to put others down

P.S. her name is spelled Ally

I think Jorge's point is a good one. I myself have committed depraved acts in my life and yes, I have have a sense of guilt and remorse over such acts, but it’s a battle. It think for the sake of self preservation I’ve countered that guilt with wickedness, because wickedness is more fun. I don’t know. All I know is that in an effort to be brutally honest I don’t always write things I mean and sometimes I do err on the side of brutality. Mostly I comfort myself by knowing deep down that I’m going to heaven and that, yeah my mom is a good lady.

Good Night

Today was the most stressful day ever and involved having to go out to buy $50 worth of Hershey’s kisses for my job from the most excessivly trendy candy store ever. It wasn’t even that many Hershey’s kisses and it made me tense and depressed even though it wasn’t my money. I had a good night though. I cooked and ate ice cream and sang along to songs Amanda made up on the guitar. I really can’t say anything more than that because I must sleep.

Britney’s a Bride!

I have to admit, I’m jealous. She got hitched in Vegas on New Year’s eve. Getting hitched in Vegas is sort of my dream wedding. The groom was a childhood friend and when I read in the People article that “A source says that he and Spears were childhood friends who recently hooked up -- then hitched up. They had spent New Year's Eve together at the hotel's Rain nightclub, then retired to the suite.” I thought it actually sounded pretty romantic. I think this nutty phase she’s going through might be a good thing, maybe once she gets through it she’ll stop being Madonna’s lap dog and start being cool. I once thought she was the lamest, but now I really do think Britney has potential. There’s something about her that is actually genuine and very tragic.

On another note, this weekend I went to the Whitney with my horrible aunt and uncle. We saw the John Currin show, highlights include a nude of Bea Arthur. John Currin is one of those sexy artists who is always showing up in photosshirtless. He makes sarcastic paintings and snide comments about the vapid faces in his paintings being reflections of the people looking at them. One plus is that due to 1. the ironic nature of the paintings and 2. the porno star figures of the women Currin paints there were lots of cute indie rock boys attending the show.

New Years Secrets

I’ve discovered that the secret to enjoying New Years is to arrive at the part half and hour before midnight, that way there is no rising anticipation and inevitable disappointment. You walk in, get a drink and suddenly everyone is cheering.

Right after the ball dropped everyone went to the roof, we were the last to catch on and when we opened the door the fireworks were exploding right in front of our faces. Afterwards a bunch of people started singing that old New Years song that everyone sings in black and white movies. It was very classic and probably the best New Years moment ever.

Then I met a quirky gay man who instantly took a shine to me. I was rather taken aback and uncertain about what the draw could be, but he continually assured me that I am very sexy. Dave, if you’re reading this, thanks for all the lovely compliments, I’m sorry I wasn’t willing to take it to that next level.