Idle Thoughts

I am so bored. It's 2:17, I don't have anywhere to be until 4:10 and I don't think I'm going to make it sitting in one spot without moving for another two hours.

American Apparel is horrible. I'd like to know why there is one on every street corner in Manhattan. WHAT. THE. FUCK. IS. THAT. ABOUT? How are they able to sell enough stone washed glitter unitards to stay in business? And why do all of their promotional photos make me feel seedy and unclean? (Where do they pick up their "real" looking models...it must on the way to the all night dance studio after an 18 hour heroin binge. It's like looking at the before shots of an amateur porn movie.)

What is a hipster, in ten words or less?

I would love to meet someone who admits to being a hipster, but isn't. A stark contrast to those in denial who are.

I bet you could make a coffe table book and sell it at Urban Outfitters called, "Self Proclaimed Hipsters -- trail blazers of a generation, boldly following in the footsteps of those before them." I don't even know what that means, but I think it sounds cool --the best part is, so will everyone else. It is now 2:29.

I was out this weekend and two of my friends made fun of my hat. It's a little rastafari inspired, sure. But I fucking love that hat.

Bon Chon chicken in New York. You will not be diasppointed.

Two years ago my part time lover stole a pin I had that said, "fuck literature" on it. I would like that back. Sometimes when I get mad at him I ask for it back. Then, when he offers it to me, I refuse to take it.

It's the Celebrity Retard Game!

Starring this evening will be Anne Hathaway, Frank Langella, and Robert Downey Jr. Below is an excerpt from a Newsweek interview called the "oscar roundtable". I'm guessing these are the actors nominated for Oscars this year. Check out Hathaway.

Anne, what about you? Do you Google yourself?
HATHAWAY: No.

LANGELLA: It's not a good idea. It can be painful and it can be self-aggrandizing.

HAWKINS: What do they say about don't believe any of it?

DOWNEY: Oh, I love all that s–––, personally. Sorry. I just love it. Because it's a hoot. Some people overstate their support, like they know you. Other people are busy doing something else and just want to go on this chat site and say some despicable character assassination, which I honestly think they kind of nailed it. I do have that shortcoming. It's really fun.

Later on that day...

HATHAWAY: OK, I have a confession. I lied before when you asked if I Googled myself. I do. I'm embarrassed by it because I know how terrible it is.

DOWNEY: Wait a minute, should I feel s–––ty that I Google myself?

HATHAWAY: You should feel s–––ty about other things, Robert. For a while, it cracked me up. I found a ton of humor in it. But recently it's changed. There's a big difference now where information is being reported as news. And I'm very uncomfortable with that. And what you were saying, Brad, and God knows you deal with it worse than anyone, the idea that you blink your eyes and it's all over the Internet. It's a strange thing to be part of.

Is Anne (Seinfeld's Doppelganger) Hathaway really telling Robert Downey Jr. that he should feel like shit? Is she really taking a place of (even if it's comic sarcasm) authority over someone whose raw talent shines through even when he's out of his mind fucked up on blow? I mean really? This wierd looking upstart thinks she has the right to joke around with Robert Downey Jr. by insulting him? This is from the same woman whose resume includes "The Princess Diaries" and going out with a complete tool for like five years without realizing it. I'm not even going to get in to the fact that people who are nominated for Oscars are often the winners of nothing more than a popularity contest and that films nominated for oscars are so predictable at this point that a snooze fest like "Benjamin Button" made the cut...but how difficult is it to act like you're mad at the world (e.g. "Rachel Getting Married"). That's probably the easiest emotion to convey. I do have to give her a Captain Obvious award for telling us that being a celebrity with the media so readily accessible through the internet is strange. I mean I figured getting followed around all day long by douche bags with a camera would feel totally normal. oh, and she's a liar.

Urban dic words of the day

1.bar laugh
1. The insipid laugh emitted by half drunk people at a singles bar when they are responding to the wit, wisdom and humor of other half drunk people hoping to score. sounds like - ha, ha, (slight pause) ha, ha, ha (intonation on the middle ha) 2. everyday use of a flirtatious laugh indicating possible interest in a member of the opposite sex, most frequently used by young women
I can't believe all the bar laughs I heard at that party. Were all the women drunk, or were they coming on to President Clinton?

2.Overchicked
When a not-so-good-looking guy lands a chick thats way more attractive than he is.
Tom is 5'04, overweight and severly unattractive. How Tom wound up with Jeni, who is 5'07, slender and drop dead gorgeous is a mystery. He definitely overchicked on this hook up.

Gwyneth Paltrow might be retarded

An addition of celebrity idiot follows:

Okay, so check it out, Gwyneth Paltrow has her own website called, GOOP http://goop.com/signup.html. It is essentially a dossier on everything that is Gwyneth's "life" or rather, manufactured image. Information is relayed through "newsletters", which interested people can sign up to recieve as they are published.

Recently she penned a newsletter about her post holiday diet to lose "those few pounds of excess", and of course she recomends that her devoted readers follow it themselves with the consultaiton of a doctor. What this "diet" is is little better than the lemonade and cayenne pepper concotion that us plebians use to "detoxify", i.e. try not to eat for a period of time. Gwyneth's version is much classier of course because she's just so damn sophisticated.

It is, essentially, a week long liquid only diet. She closes this little gem of literary gold with, "I will be suffering along with you to kick-start my year a bit lighter. Good luck to us all!"

All right, this is my thing...why in the threewisemen-jesus-fuck is Gwyneth Paltrow trying to detox to lose weight? She has the trans twelve-year-old boy figure every woman in Hollywood covets. And why would she think that this is a good, or feasible practice to pass on to anyone? It might be because she's a little...retarded.

Good Stuff

If your breathing is constricted by the innundation of doomsday predictions in the financial section of your favorite paper/website, take a deep breath and read this; it might help you sleep a bit better at night:

http://www.freep.com/article/20081215/OPINION05/81215022

In the midst of the "crisis" I remind everyone that economics is called the dismal science for its offering of opinions based on data, instead of finite answers, and for its attempt to predict the future based on "science". Fascinating stuff, but not something to set your watch by. It's kind of like the search for the philosopher's stone. Or like the little gerbal running endlessly on its wheel inside the head of your average Joe. I would also urge you, like the author of the article, to keep history in mind. There have been downturns before, and there will be again. Rome didn't last forever (as an empire), neither did Tenochtitlan, and neither will New York. When you accept that everything comes to end one way or another, you can stop worrying about it. Really.

Also, buy the "slumdog Millionaire" soundtrack. It's brilliant.

Urban Dictionary words of the day

I've decided that when I don't have anything to say, I'm going to add in my favorite new words from http://www.urbandictionary.com/.

1. Salsa Fucked
This phenomenon occurs when dining at a Mexican restaurant with a large group and the salsa is not distributed evenly throughout the table. The areas of the table that do not have ample amounts of salsa are "salsa fucked."

"Jeff, all of the salsa is at the other end of the table, yo."

"I know, we got Salsa Fucked."

2. sexting
the act of text messaging someone in the hopes of having a sexual encounter with them later; initially casual, transitioning into highly suggestive and even sexually explicit
In a sentence: "He keeps sexting me saying how hard he is and how much he wants to tap my ass," Cindy said massaging her breasts unconsciously.

Sexting in action:

Nancy: "Wut do u want?"

Bob: "Cum over to my place now."

Nancy: "Is NE1 else there?"

Bob: "No. I need to c u."

Nancy: "K. Will b there soon."

Monday email update

An email I wrote to a friend recently:

My update is that I'm still living on Prospect (obvs), although with the lack of privacy and having to deal with my loser rommates, I don't know if I would call it living. I won't move out of there a minute too soon. Beth and I have pushed back to spring, but I'm going to look casually through the winter in case something good opens up. Thanksgiving was good, I stuffed myself to the gills with food and drink for 48 hrs straight, which took the rest of the weekend to recover from. My job sucks ass, I hate it more each week and, like my current living situation, will also not end a minute too soon. This semester has been easy, but I expect next semester to be a big pain, God willing it will be my last one and I can start to move on from the limbo I've been in the last two years.

I hope I don't sound super negative, all this stuff is par for the course and on a day-to-day basis I feel good. On top of all of that I think my ass is getting bigger and I'm scared it will turn into my mother's and my shopping addiction has made me broke, broke, broke. But I guess it's all about what you choose to focus on and what actions you take. So I like to wrap all of this up in a bundle and focus on the fact that changes are around the bend. I'm sure at some point I will look back on this time as being "simple" when all I had to worry about was fitting in my jeans and the only thing I had to sacrifice to pay my rent was a new dress that I don't need because I already have 35 black dresses.

I'll laud how lucky I was to have such under market rent, how close Beth and I were, how weed was plentiful and so was booze. I'll think of the roommates as "quirky" and "different" rather than half-retarded and hopeless. I might even laugh at the fact that I quit going to my Bodega because the owner creeped me out and wouldn't quit hitting on me. That could be funny someday, right? I'll probably remember him as a kindly father figure who just wanted to talk -- or maybe not. There will be no seedy underbelly to the neighborhood in my memories. Alex will not have killed himself by taking a dive off of the Brooklyn Bridge a week after I saw him last (obviously unaware that it would be the last time we said good-bye), Mikey will not have been such a drug addleded romantic, Robert will be a good guy I let slip through my fingers, and he and Megan will have been happy together. And I'll probably count myself lucky that I had a good, resume building job while I was in school that allowed me a relatively flexible schedule.

I wonder if our sugar coated memories of the past are some sort of primoridal survival technique. If we consciously let all of the fears and disappointmens build up, could we die from them? IDK.