Dear Marilyn, **
You are seriously a genius.
I'm not being sarcastic or snarky either...I mean it. You're like a living, breathing marketing experiment and the world is your willing puppet. Your name is Brian and you grew up suburban fucking Ohio. Mix one part pancake make-up and black eyeliner with two parts naming yourself after a serial killer and, voila...you're a superstar. Throw in some anti-christ BS for good measure, talk about blood a lot in your "songs" and stop eating = e-d-g-y. And now you're making fucking Absinthe?! Absinthe made in Switzerland in some dark, dank castle I presume?
Let's list your qualifications for Absinthe maker: you are weird, dark, scary and wear black smudgy make-up. I'm sure you booze it up constantly, so I will spot you that. Based on this formula, I'm volunteering myself to endorse and/or develop my own line of the following products: Spanx (chubby thighs, check!); Goody hairbands (constant ponytail, check!); the SAT's (I'm smart, uh huh!); Pinkberry flavor (ob-sessed!).
Anyway, let it be known, Bri-guy, that Mansinthe is both completely ridiculous and Shear Genius.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Dear New York Magazine, ***
Not to brag or anything, but I was like 24 years ahead of this glasses trend thing. I was rockin' these puppies in fourth grade. FOURTH grade. Mmm Hmm.
Give me a jingle if you're ever looking for a new trend spotter.
Kool Moe D,
Monday, April 28, 2008
Dear Everyone, ***
Friday, April 25, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Dear Jenny From the Block, **
Can I be the first to suggest "Double Trouble" as the title of your new reality show on TLC?
Way to come back from the cringe-worthy embarassment of naming your children totally boring and uninspired names.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
'If You See What You Think Is a Contradiction, Check Your Premises, Because One of Them Is Wrong' -- Thank You, Real Housewives of New York City
- You are not now, nor were you E-V-E-R interested in being a socialite (Alex)
- You don't think its at all unusual that you are living in a crack den ("it didn't occur to me that anyone would have any sort of a reaction to it") (Alex)
- You feel totally misrepresnted (Simex)
- It only "looks like" you are desperate to move up in society...you "are not trying to be members of high society" (Simex)
- You've been misunderstood C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E-L-Y (Simex)
- You don't care what we all think (Alex)
Go big or go home,
(eh...actually, just go home),
P.S. I watched some reruns of the show tonight and Francois really is a major little shit.
Dear Jess, **
Do you remember that childhood game when someone would scream out "OPPOSITE DAY" and then whatever you said, it would be opposite? "I love you" would actually be something to say to someone when you really mean "I hate you," for example. "You're an inspiration to us all" would actually mean "you're kinda pathetic and sad." "You're so super famous and fabulous" would actually translate into"for the love of Christ, why are you licking blue frosting off of your skeevy BF's face...what in the holy hell has happened to your life?"
Do you remember that game, J?
This I swear,
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Dear Everybody, ***
- Obvs, Chuck is going to be the gay one (how cool would that be!?)
- Touche, Jenny...way to come back from grand theft auto.
- Bonjour, Georgina!
- Holy Justin-Bobbyness!
- Amanda-n-Alex sittin' in a tree (fingers crossed!).
- Everyone else: Jealous much? Amanda DE-served the editor position so back the eff off and start acting like teenagers who aren't about to shoot a beatdown video!
- Amanda: your eyeglasses wardrobe is an inspiration to us four-eyed girls everywhere
Monday, April 21, 2008
Dear Colosally Idiotic Belligerant Teens, *
True, I am now in my thirties and have some difficulty recalling the struggles and challenges of being a teenager growing up in this crazy, mixed-up world of ours. I did go to public school, and had to take a few non-honors courses, ride the bus AND eat alone once or twice in the cafeteria---so I know what's it's like living deep down in the trenches. And yet, I made it all the way through school without beating the shit out of someone and videotaping it for fun.
Perhaps being a cheerleader on top of all of your normal school responsibilities is a bit too much to handle. I mean, pom pom routines and football scores don't seem that complicated, but what the heck do I know? I was stuck in SAT test prep and editing the school newspaper--you know, trying to plan for my successful future as a contributing member of our society.
Now it seems you zany teens are forming splinter groups who were so inspired by the stark raving lunacy of the first cheerleader beatdown video, you're thinking "Hey! We should beat the living eff out of someone too and tape it! Wouldn't that be sooooo cool!?"
Do I seriously need to answer that question for you?
no, no, no,
it would not, in fact, be sooo cool.
Get a freakin hold of yourself people. This is not exactly rocket science here.
Not that you morons are applying to Harvard on Yale, but what the h-e-double hockey sticks do you think is going to happen when the admissions specialist at State or whatever lame-o community college you apply to googles your name and finds these videos?? I'm seriously ready to sick Super Nanny on all of your ridonkulus asses.
Grow the eff up.
Dear New York Magazine, ***
Gossip Girl really IS the best show ever. Maybe you should start a weekly column devoted solely to the goings and comings of GG?
Just an idea.
Hopelessly devoted to you,
Friday, April 18, 2008
OMG! I just read about how you and Casey are house hunting in Mississippi! That's so amazing!
I mean, I don't know much about Liberty, MS, but I bet its going to be the perfect spot for your little family. I just read on wikipedia that almost 19% of the people living there have college degrees! JL, that's soooo important! You're going to want your little boo to be around people who truly value the importance of an education, and it sounds like those people live in Mississippi! The population of Liberty is supposedly around 630 people...so if 19% have college educations, that means that almost 120 people there are def gonna be really, really smart! True, we don't know where the Libertarians went to college...and they probably included community college and maybe even home study courses, but who cares! You need to provide only the best for your little boo boo, and you're doin it grrrl!
Perez said you guys made an offer on a 3 bedroom house for, like $300,000! (do you have a connection with the number 3?! You should talk to a numerologist!). He also said that your new place is going to have marble floors and a game room---that is sooo cool JL! Maybe you can fit a go cart track in there!!
I also read that only 21% of the town of Liberty is living below the poverty line, so you guys are not going to stick out there at all. And when Brit Brit and the boys come to visit, they are going to feel so at home...I bet everybody there goes barefoot when they stop off at gas station bathrooms!
I'm including this great picture of the town's courthouse that I found: I hope you and Casey don't ever end up there!!!!
Congrats, JL....on everything!!
luv & hugs,
p.s. I know being preggers must be sooo hard and I don't know if your doctor ever mentioned this to you (or if you go to the doctor?), but you're not really supposed to have a lot of caffeine. So maybe you should try Diet Doctor Pepper instead of the real thing?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Dear Justin Bobby, *
I'm not sure exactly why I hate you with the intensity of 1,000 fiery burning suns.
I mean, I know some of the reasons that the site of your elfish, bearded face makes me want to stab myself in my eyeballs:
- You're a fucking tool
- Your self-importance coupled with your "Mr. Mysterious" act make me violently ill
- Your rat's nest of a head makes you seem like a homeless person...not a "celebrity hairdresser."
- You ride a motorcycle
I'm hoping your new gig as a model does not involve any actual speaking parts...and that you never show your stu-pid self on The Hills again.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
I've had a few NYC celebrity sightings before (Paris Hilton at the airport, Steve Buscemi in my Brooklyn nabe, Madonna's back in central park), but none have been as show-stoppingly spectacular as seeing you last night in front of Macy's on 34th street screaming into your phone about "Bethenney!" and "Jill!" and "book deals!" and "Money!"
I recognized you immediately, (though no one else was giving you a second glance) and I have to give props when props are due: you looked sorta cute. You've really infused the term "hot mess" with new meaning on the show (pretty much everytime you don't take Avery's advice and end up wearing some sort of outfit built around those black knee-high boots, a short skirt, and/or a titty shirt it doesn't work in a big, bold way), but last night you were looking (gulp) kind of adorable.
I was fiddling with my iphone and pretending not to listen to your conversation, though, in truth Mone, e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e was listening to your convo because you may as well have been talking into a bullhorn. Your pacing back and forth (and in and out of Macy's) discouraged me from getting full on stalkerazzi on you, but you were DEF talking about the possibility of doing Real Housewives of New York City again, and running through the scenarios of which other housewives would be joining you. You started talking money and cleverly noted that whatever you ask for, "They just give you half! You ask for 50, you get 25; you ask for 100, you'll get 50." Seriously, Ramona, you were soooo good at math!!
Unable to contain myself any longer, I dialed my husband in the hopes that I could leave the phone on speaker and let him get a taste of your ranting too, and that's when I lost you. DAMMIT.
I ran my ass home to watch the finale of RHONYC all hopped up on the excitement of having just seen you in your cute little pink coat, and your Christian Louboutin shopping bag (Mais, oui Madame!). Popcorn in hand, I was totally prepared to bask in the glory of all of my rediscovered Ramona love, and then...you did it again.
You let loose with the crazy.
You really did a bang up job of hiding the insanity in the first few eps (minus the Hamptons freakout where you almost threw your friend's dog in the pool). Were you quirky? Yes, of course. Were you annoying? Absolutely! Are you bad at Tennis? Totally! But you buried the full-on CRAZY down deep...until, of course, you met Simon.
Mind you, if ever there was a walking, talking crazy trigger, Simon van Kempen is most assuredly it, BUT I still was left with nothing but a wtf feeling after your outrageous outburst/exit last week over your "girls night" disappointment. Especially since none of these "girls"...uhm... like you very much.
I was certain that after that bizarro freak out, you would certainly be on your bestest behavior for the farewell party. I was expecting groveling, air kisses and eyeball pointing fer sure, but then you let loose with the crazy again (?!). You showed up an hour and a half late, almost bitch slapped your husband in front of everyone, and then sorta offered up this inauthentic, half-assed apology. You DID hug Simon and make-up which, true confessions, did get me a little teary-eyed, but your outcast status amongst the rest of the group seems pretty cemented at this point (ironically, Simon may indeed now be your only friend).
The rest of the show was uber boring, so I do thank you for at least spicing things up an eensy bit.
Anyway, good luck with your negotiating!. I'd suggest (based on your "halvsies" theory I overheard you discussing) that you should ask Bravo for a billion...and then just settle for around 500 mil.
love ya long time,
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Dear Bravo TV,*** (revised from a former ** rating)
How in the h-e double hocky sticks is Real Housewives of New York City over tonight!? Jiminy Christmas, It just started!
Not that I counted, but I swear those OC bitches got waay more episodes than this. I sat through forty-six God damn minutes of Vicki (with an "i") trying to convince herself that she's not, in fact, an epic control freak and Lauri (with an "i") droning on and on about how head over heels in love she is with what's his wallet, and I deserve some payback now.
If it was ME running my little ole TV network that happened to just lose the one show that put it on the map in the first place (to Lifetime, no less), I would get my ass into gear and get some new eps into production stat.
What the EFF am I supposed to watch now, Step It Up & Dance?
UPDATE: oopsie! I feel like I did the equivalent of drunk dialing (never post before a very thorough googling, kids!). Not only are you renewing Real Housewives of New York City, but you're also giving us Real Housewives of New Jersey too!? Bravo TV, you are waaay too good to me. Friends again?
Monday, April 14, 2008
I know you've had a rough time of things recently, so I'll skip over your new raunch-a-riffic weave, your cowboy boots, your cracked out friends/star fuckers, your perma tan, and your skin regime (or lack thereof), so that we can just get straight to the real matter at hand: your driving.
I totally get that you don't like your daddio all up in your grill. And I GET that its nice to do your own thing and not have to ask permission to go get a coffee (i.e. instigate a paparazzi frenzy...wink wink) at Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Sunset, or go rent a room at the Peninisula for who knows what bizarre reason (and then immediately check out), but WHY oh w-h-y are you still driving? Your car accidents occur so often, they're a bit of a challenge to keep track of.
What's the deal, B?? Just say "NO" to the wheel.
Or here's an idea: maybe you and Lindsay Lohan can go halvsies on a driver?
Just a thought.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Of course it was too good to be true. Never been to rehab, always wear your panties, Harvard education, blah, blah, blah. Well, I guess its time for the good girl to officially burn her Mensa card. Helllooo, Devendra Banhart!
The pic above is a teeny tiny taste of of the galactic online freakshow of material on this dude (do a google image search if you don't believe me). He's also described on his own record label's site as a former "homeless, wandering, neo psych/folk hippie artist", so....yeah--there's that.
"But he's a muz-ish-annnn. And he's soooo deep"[I imagine you pleading with your shell-shocked mother after your first Friday night Shabbat dinner with the fam].
True I've never listened to any of Dev's music, but trust me, I know I won't like it on principle alone.
Anyway, I guess as your first legit foray into the realm of the naughty girl, this is a pretty decent love connection to make. If you want to keep the PR heat on HI, I would probably suggest a sex tape release in three weeks or so.
Check yourself before you wreck yourself, Ms. Hershlag. I'm just sayin.'
Love you like a sis,
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Dear Cast, Crew and "Juh-jus" of So You Think You Can Dance (and Cat Deeley),***
Just saw the promo for your twooooo hour premiere on Thursday, May 22 and I am s'o, s'o, s'oooooo excited--like Alex McCord finding out she was referenced on New York Social Diary excited.
I've missed you, I've missed you, I've missed U!
I luv you, I luv you, I luv U!
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Dear Weak, Feeble-Minded Self,**
You are disgusting.
You were once the recipient of a scholarship to a 4 year, somewhat highly regarded university. A few years back you solved 3/4 of the NY Times Sunday Crossword puzzle mostly by yourself. You easily understand the difference and proper usage of there, their and they're AND two, too and to. And yet each Tuesday night, there you smugly sit, diet coke in hand and tivo remote nearby (for constant instant replaying) enthralled in yet another episode of The Real Housewives of New York City.
If you could inject episodes of this show into your veins, dear stupid, stupid Self, I fear you might become a junkie. You've taken to watching eps two or three times each, and your growing knowledge base about these women is likely sufficient grounds for a restraining order.
Self, you cannot keep sitting around fantasizing about meeting the housewives in person and letting loose with a flurry of pushy questions, high-and-mighty comments and snarky observations. It ain't gonna happen. Besides, what on Earth would you say!?
Alex: First of all, naming your son Francois did NOT work. He doesn't want to fucking speak French! (in spite of his stupid name which will, sadly, lock up future daily ass-kickings at school...if he ever gets into one). Save the money from one of your hideo-tastic, ill-fitting dresses and buy yourself a clue. Second of all, get a freakin haircut, get o-v-e-r yourself, buy your husband Simon a rainbow flag, and for the love of Christ, please get your teeth fixed.
Francois: It's not your fault. Stick your fingers in your ears, close your eyes, and lock yourself in your bedroom until you are old enough to ride the subway by yourself and escape from your parents desperately blinding social climb into the wannabe wasteland of NYC sycophants and hangers on. Or, Plan B: see if Tinsley Mortimer will adopt you (hot diggity DAMN would that piss your parents off!)
Johan: It's not your fault either. SEE FRANCOIS'S ADVICE ABOVE
LuAnn: Is your kitchen seriously that tiny!? Please tell me they are shooting Rosie's maid's quarters out back. Also, how totally crazy it that you are a Countess and your name is LUANN!? I mean, a waitress, OK. A nail technician, no problemo...but a Countess!? And this, dear Countess LUANN, is the reason that Bethenny didn't quite realize that you needed to be formally introduced like the Queen of freakin' England. Sheesh.
Jill: Is there anything I can do or say to convince you to take me out to lunch? I need a "connectah" like you in my life pronto (eim fruhm the fyve towns too!). Also, your gay boyfriend, (you know, the one who you think is dripping with taste) has AB-solutely none. He's bringing you down...big time.
Ramona: You might want to try pointing at things with your fingers rather than your eyeballs (I can't even imitate you for more than 15 seconds without straining my peepers). The daily rotation of hunky crosses around your neck are cringe worthy. Also, listen to your daughter; she's always right and has more sense than anyone else on the whole damn show.
Bethenny: You should seriously wear a bikini more often--you've got a sick bod (but that white dress you wore in Miami was Whore-endous. Burn it). Also, stop drinking so much...it's slightly distracting from your whole organic chef/health nut persona. In summary: I'm totally desperate to be your BFF. Call me.
Simon Van Kempen: [insert deep, full-bodied sigh] Oh forget it.
[Just read the freakin McCord Van Kempen family website--there is nothing that I could really say here that will do more for the cause of bringing to light his epic douche-i-ness than this].
And yes, Simon...in answer to your question you are "hopelessly gauche."
Wake up Self...you're dreaming again.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Looking at this Victoria Beckham ad leaves me almost as shocked and confused as I was after seeing your photo for the first time post fat, dorky guy makeover.
Here are the cold hard facts Marc-ee Mark:
1. This is a horrible, overexposed photo
2. This horrible photo does not look artistic or avant garde...it looks stupid
3. The intended fairy tale/kiss a frog reference is murky at best and at worst...well, stupid again.
Your ad campaigns lately have looked like they've been art directed by Stevie Wonder. I'm a bit perplexed that after the showstopping creativity of Victoria Beckham stuffed in a bag, and Victoria Beckham popping her head out of bag, this is what you and your crack team have come up with.
Is this all part of your clever plan? Did you intentionally shoot an ad that was so inexplicably lame you knew you would get people talking more than you would had the ad been fabulous and ordinary?
Well, it worked.
fashion for all,
Friday, April 4, 2008
Dear Yale University Organizer of the "Largest gathering of people dressed as the Hills' Lauren Conrad,"***
You are a motherfucking genius. Honest to blog.
Hugs and kisses from your biggest fan,
I was a smidge surprised when Vogue Magazine named Agyness Deyn one of the world's next supermodels last May. But, OK whatevs--diff'rent strokes for diff'rent folks.
But today you're telling me that based on Aggy's "fresh looks" in the photo above she serves as "a muse to us all!"
I think she kind of looks like she (unsuccessfully) raided Duckie's closet from Pretty In Pink on her way to a Depeche Mode concert in 1986. Dude, if this is your muse, then that might explain your tragic run in with pink hair.
I still love you long time,
Thursday, April 3, 2008
I totally cut you some slack a few years back over the whole assistant mishap, becase HELLO. We've all been there. I've had 4 assistants myself and though I didn't follow your lead with the phone beatdown, I did beat two of them over the head with a grill pan and a third with a particularly thick September Bazaar (the 4th one was deported), so buh-lieve me, I know its hard to find good help these days. True, when you threatened to throw your next assistant out of a moving vehicle, I did think that *may* have been a bit over the top, but since you didn't actually go through with it, I thought "hmm...aint no thang." It's haaard being a supermodel, after all.
I was pretty impressed (in a big sister torture kinda way) with how you made Tyra Banks' life a living hell when she was younger. If we're all being truthful, I think most of us would admit to fantasizing about how we might torture Tyra ourselves if given the chance. But you eventually stepped up to the plate on her show and that made me completely forget about how you tried to beat your next assistant silly with a Blackberry Pearl.
But hold the phone, sista (no pun intended). On the CNN crawl during Anderson Cooper 360, I just saw that you've just been arrested a-g-a-i-n for flipping the fuck out at Heathrow Airport and spitting in a police officer's face after one of your bags was lost.
Noni, you've gots to chill out girl...for realz. Aside from these bi-monthly beatdowns, you have nothing going on, and therein lies the crux of your problem. You've gots to stay busy, girl. Heidi has Project Runway, Nikki has Make Me a Supermodel, Tyra has America's Next Top Model, Janice had her own freakin' modeling agency and all you've got is a bail bondsman. Elizabeth-freakin-Berkley has her own show! Which of these ex-supermodels is NOT like the others? Get yourself a crappy reality show already. What the Christ is wrong with you??
Talk to your agent. Seriously.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I was sooo happy to hear that you and your baby daddy got engaged! I can't say that I'm surprised. I mean, obvs you have a good head on your shoulders. Just because you guys are 16, that doesn't mean that you can't make it work. I can totally see that you and Casey are TLF, so back off all you haters!
And I don't care what anyone else says, I think you're going to be a great mom! With Brit Brit and Lynne as role models, there's no way you can go wrong. It makes me so angry when people say things like your kid is going to end up in rehab or in a sex video. I mean, WTF!?
This whole prenup thing is just ridick--I totally agree with you! When you have something as special as the love you and Casey share, there is NO reason to bother with any of that stupid stuff. When you guys say "I do," its sooo going to be 4 eva ;)
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Dear Skinny Jeans Designer,**
I don't know who you are, where you live or what your religious beliefs are, but I do know for absolute sure that you really, really suck.
I think that you probably knew good and well that your stupid skinny jeans would only look good on 1 in every 500 women, and I think that you probably didn't care. I think you probably look horrible in skinny jeans yourself. I think you are ugly...and dumb too.
Well, ok--not dumb. You can't possibly be dumb because you've managed to convince thousands of smart, reasonable, college educated women that they should slither their chubby legs into skin-tight, dark wash, $200 sausage casings and then go out into public. That's actually kinda smart--but also kinda evil.
Well, joke's on you bub! According to the Daily Mail, Skinny jeans are O-V-E-R...at least in London. And if they're over in Europe, then they will soon be over here. And let's just say it better happen fast. I'm dreaming of the day I can burn my own fucking skinny jeans. Yes, I actually bought a pair, you SOB.