To celebrate, Jamie and I are purchasing these shirts from Wildfox Couture:

So, just picture us, sitting side-by-side on the floor in one of our Upper East Side apartments, wearing black hosiery and having our hair styled like so, attempting to engage through our writing as we litter candy bar wrappers everywhere. We’ll try to impart any knowledge we’ve gained in the last 20-something years, between rearing Cavalier King Charles Spaniels and hanging out at Dorrian’s.

EQB

L.O.L.

X EQB

So, I’m still decorating my apartment but, at the very least, I have pieced together a life-sized picture of Kate. And, no. I don’t want to hear any more Lizzie/Lezzie jokes, as hilarious as they are.

Anyway, I found this masterpiece in an issue of Dazed and Confused. Kate is dressed in Marc Jacobs, from head to bedazzled ballet flat, and is just hanging out, jumping around, being photographed. (Something I do regularly.) At some point, I should probably think about “framed artwork” and other such adulty things. Until then, at least I’m not papering my walls with fold-outs of JTT torn from Tiger Beat.

Don’t mind the cable, etc. boxes and the really classy Yankee candle in “Vanilla Cupcake.” They’re really just there for ambiance.

X EQB

Craigslist: Assembling posse to run DC nightlife (DC Summer/all over)

Please reply with reasons we are looking for at least 1 woman and up to 3 women. We are looking for 2 to 5 fellas. Posse to be assembled by Independence day weekend so hurry.

Miss Polky’s response …

Hey I saw your adon Craigslist.  I am EXTREMELY interested in joining your posse.  I am adept at all of the following: making it happen, shutting down the club, going in, going hard, feelin the vibe, hating (optional), appreciating (mandatory), acknowledging the people, taking one for the team (on occasion), and turning it up a notch or two.  My specialty is stepping on the grenade and wingmanning.  I also like to ice bros.

Usually I get so drunk I blackout by the end of the night and more likely than not find some piece in the club (once it has been shut down) and tap it.  I already have bit of a posse but I am interested in finding a new one because they’re fucking weak as shit and say things like “I want to go easy tonight” and “want to just go see a movie?”  Last night I brought home this ugly chick because my bro wanted to stick it to her sister.

I am CONSTANTLY feeling the vibe and even fashion myself a amateur-amateur/pro DJ.  I’m especially into house and/or rap and/or top 40.  I like hitting up places like Public and Rhino, because, fuck, it’s all seen and be seen right??

I really commend your innovation in posting this ad on Craigslist.  I’m constantly like “where can I find a new posse?!” And here you guys are!  I can definitely see us going out a LOT.

Some questions for you:
1.       Do you booze hard?
2.       Are you bro-y as fuck?
3.       Are you attractive (not to be gay but like I’m not tryna to go out with a bunch of ugly dudes and get zero play?
4.       Do you have a crash pad I can use on occaision?

Get at me killas!

Contributed by: A.P.

Unfortunately, on my red eye (take note of that fact, you’ll be quizzed later) flight to NYC over the weekend, I do believe my aviation luck and I got in a major fight. Like, he-threw-me-out-of-the-apartment-and-stole-my-Snuggie kind of fight. Brutal.

OK — let’s rewind to Saturday night. Rather than leave early on Sunday from Cali, I figured I’d take a night flight and still get most of my Sunday to bounce around the city. Mistake number 1. I arrive at the Delta counter to be denied an upgrade and am forced to take an aisle (AISLE!!!) seat. I only do windows. I like being able to look outside to see pretty things (like rainbows) and I can also fall asleep without having to touch the stranger sitting next to me. Sidenote: wouldn’t it be great if instead of just choosing your seat, you could choose your seatmate? My qualifications would include, but are not limited to: Joseph Gordon Levitt.

Anyway, it goes without saying that I could barely sleep the whole flight. By the time we landed in ATL for a layover, I was feeling panicky and airsick. I made a mad dash for the bathroom to splash water on my face and wolf down the two Fruit-Rollups my sister so lovingly packed. Unfortunately I did not so lovingly pack myself some Xanax, so it appeared that the prospect of sleep on the second leg of the flight was rather slim. Wonder of wonders, however, I did manage to pass out with my head hanging over in the aisle, lolling like a (gorgeous) ragdoll.

I awoke to the captain talking about making a rather large Western detour through Ohio to avoid the storm/wind in NYC. He assured us that we’d fly up through PA and land in LaGuardia on time anyway. Whatevs, I thought, and went back to sleep. Fast forward to a few hours later and we’re about to land! How painless! How effortless! How wrong I was! You see, we didn’t land in NYC, but at Bradley International. For those of you who went to Trinity, I do believe the misery of being stuck in Hartford (without actually visting Trintrin, that is) is self-evident. We couldn’t even get off the plane because there were only four gates. So instead we sat and waited until getting the OK from LGA to fly back in. Apparently, while I was sleeping, we were circling NYC so much THAT WE RAN OUT OF GAS. Hence the reason for the detour to New England’s Rising Star. Awesome.

After waiting about an hour, we got the OK to fly in. The landing was bumpy, but I think we were all so glad to get back to the city that no one really cared. At this point I’d already been traveling for what felt like DAYS and I just wanted to get home. Obviously, Delta had other plans. We waited an HOUR at the baggage claim with no bags. And then when they finally did come, they came on two different carousels. That’s right, MORE THAN ONE. Because, in an already crowded airport with many, many cranky passengers, why wouldn’t you want to dash back and forth, frantically combing all the black suitcases for yours?

Luckily, I did find my bag and made it back to my apartment just four hours after I was supposed to have landed. Lovely. And to the cab driver that didn’t tell me your machine wasn’t taking credit cards? Satan has already reserved a special place in hell for you, my friend.

OK BUT WAIT! It gets better. All this mess with the flying was caused by the apparent hurricane that hit New York while I was enjoying the sun in CA. I had no idea it was so insane, but I certainly found out when I got to my office this morning.

Although there’s a generator to power the computers, the rest of the power in the whole building is out. That means no lights in the bathrooms, or overheads in the main office. Also! No running water! Hardly any internet! And no heat! And it’s our long day in the office, so I’m going on 11 hours so far with no end in sight. No joke, someone in the office came up earlier to tell us that the fire department was patrolling the area looking for “truant” workers, since we’re not supposed to be in here, and so we should be ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Legitimately, we’re squatting in our own building. And there’s candles everywhere! If we did set the place on fire, no one would even know because there’s no alarm system that’s working!

So, that’s where I am now. Bored because my internet’s not working and cold because now that the sun’s set, it’s dark and freezing in here. I had to take a scented candled into the bathroom because otherwise it’s pitch black and the ghosts will get me. Is this what is was like to be a pioneer? It seemed a lot cooler when Kirsten the American Girl Doll was doing it.

To end this rant, I would like to leave you with a haiku:

Dueling it out

Delta and Mother Nature

For things that suck

xoxo Juliet

Having worked in television for literally twos of twos of months, I’ve begun to critically analyze what makes a successful show and, on a grander scale, a successful network. While I still have little to no idea what actually creates good ratings, I have figured out what doesn’t.

A simple examination of weekly ratings for broadcast networks highlights different channels on different nights. CBS does well on Sundays and Mondays with 60 and A Half Menutes of How I Met Your Undercover Boss. Fox cleans up Monday through Wednesday with Jack Bauer trying to prove to Simon Cowell that he is the best doctor in his a capella group . ABC picks it’s spots with Lost Bachelorettes in Desperate need of an Extreme Make Over. And then we come to NBC.

Let me preface this by saying that I do like some NBC shows. I just think the network is managed by some combination of a roulette wheel, a Ouija Board and a decapitated chicken.

Since the glory days of “Must See TV”, NBC has been in a downward spiral the likes of which is only seen when purchasing gumballs for a quarter. My belief is that NBC’s demise has been a result of their unwillingness to try anything new and different. In media, consumers are always interested in what is “fresh” or “crisp” or “hippity skippity.” Unfortunately, as of late, NBC has opted for a mix of things they found in the recycling bin and stuff they copied off of the smart kid’s answer sheet. Allow me to elaborate:

America’s Got Talent – It’s Star Search, 20 years later, except instead of Ed McMahon you get a three-headed monster of Nick Canon, Sharon Osborne and Howie Mandel. That’s right, those are the people determining whether or not you’re a worthwhile talent. I’m guessing Sharon judges musical talent, Nick judges comedy talent and Howie judges ability to count to 20.

Chuck – Take USA’s (owned by NBC) ratings buster “Burn Notice” but remove its heart, soul and half its brain.

Friday Night Lights – I’ll say it, this is a pretty good show. It’s well written and has very interesting, believable characters. Just leave it to NBC to need a best selling book and blockbuster movie in order to land a good show.

The Marriage Ref – Remember how much you loved Seinfeld? Remember that Jerry Seinfeld, not the one you will see on this show. Please, for the sake of comedy. I was going to go into all the different Law and Orders here, but I’m already starting to run a bit long.

Who Do You Think You Are – Simple recipe here, step one: take PBS’s “Faces of America.” Step two: go out and have a three-martini lunch, you’ve earned it. NBC used to be the king of Thursday nights with “Friends”, “Seinfeld”, “Frazier” and (no Oxford comma) “Will and Grace.” The Thursday Night lineup now consists of “The Office”, a great show, but another unoriginal idea ripped off from Ricky Gervais and the BBC version, “Parks and Recreation” or as I like to call it “The Office” gets to play recess and “30 Rock.” 30 Rock is a tremendous show. Tina Fey and Alec Baldwin have more talent than I have free time to write articles for my friends’ blogs. Unfortunately, the show has gotten much critical acclaim without the ratings to make the network happy. I also find it slightly amusing that in order to get a winner such as this, they have to parody a comedy/variety series, which has been NBC’s long-standing stronghold with “The Tonight Show” and “SNL.”

Speaking of “The Tonight Show”, I haven’t been paying attention but I heard there were some proposed changes going on there? I’ll have to look into it.

NBC is hoping that their new show “Minute to Win it” will be a hit. The show gives contestants 60 seconds to complete a certain task in order to win prizes. According to the NBC website, some of these trials include:

Hanky Panky: “Using only one hand, the competitor must pull tissues out of a tissue box one at a time until the box is empty.” The runner-up names for this game were “Crap Your Roommate Came Home Early” and “What’s the Other Hand Doing?”

Egg Roll: “Contestant must move three eggs across the floor and into a target area only by “fanning” the eggs with an empty pizza box.” This game reminds me of that old cliche, “One Man’s Trash is Another Man’s Trash.” And my personal favorite…

Junk in the Trunk: “A belt with an empty tissue box is attached around the competitor’s waist and positioned against the contestant’s back with the hole facing outwards. Ping-pong balls are placed inside the tissue box and the competitor must jump and wiggle to shake the balls out of the box without letting his hands touch the ground. All balls must be out of the box to complete the challenge.” This is what is known as a “single entendre.” I literally can’t one-up that description.

Lastly, if this isn’t proof of mediocrity, I don’t know what is. If your most successful show is called “The Biggest Loser” well, you don’t need Sherlock Langdon to crack that code.

Make sure to keep an eye out for NBC’s summer season which will include titles such as “Angry Marketers”, “Temper your Excitement” and “Superman: The College Years.”

As I said previously, I have no personal problem with NBC. I like some of their shows and their nightly news is the best of any of the major networks. All I’m saying is, don’t give me Hydrox and tell me they’re America’s favorite cookie. Don’t tell me that Napster is the future of the music industry. Don’t take a dump on my leg and tell me it’s raining. And above all else, don’t produce any content that ends with a string of unintelligible analogies.

Contributed by: Shmarver Dizzykins

“So we were encircled and he’s like, ‘How are you doing, little lady?’ And I said, ‘Happy birthday, Frank,’ and he just lunged for me. He kissed me on the lips, then gave me a filterless cigarette. I came off all lightheaded. He was fabulous.”

Kate Moss on Frank Sinatra

X EQB

No h8. only Heartz AND LIPZ. Dayum!!!

xxJ

Or maybe it’s because I run an illegitimate and non-existent side business of pimping out my fave boy. I shan’t mention him by name on account of how I’m super embarrassed of our friendship. It’s pretty disgraceful.

Because of this deep shame, Lizzie and I often take him to hooker bars so he can mingle among his own kind and make a few extra dollhairs. It’s like a fish returning to water, really.

Let’s see, in NYC we took him to the rooftop bar at The Peninsula, which is like a hooker sample sale- (go wild, drop dollhairs, don’t be afraid to use your nails). I recommend especially because they give you free gin and tonics on your birfday and they have heaters in the winter- there’s nothing worse than a cold prossie. Defeats the whole point, you know?

In DC I took said prossie friend to The Mayflower. This particular hotel bar has gone down in infamy as the site of where a certain “Client-9” and one Miss Ashley Dupre met up for some prossie-glam fun. Say what you will about what happened in Room 871, but it was probs a better time than running New York, no? That’s sound logic right there. Appreciate.

Even as a loyal Washingtonian, I admit that NYC is superior in most things. MOST. But, let’s face it, we have you beat in prossies. The oldest profession? Prostitution. The second oldest? Politics. There are many similarities, which you already know if you follow Congressional politics even a little bit.

Take the profession of lobbying- if politicians are basically dirty whores, then lobbyists are johns. Dollhair, dollhair BILLS, indeed. This is why I really can’t get on board with Obama. Why wage war on American history? Prossies were everywhere and they had it MADE.

Think about it. In Hawthorne’s “Scarlett Letter”, the protagonist is guilty of committing adultery. But did she really suffer? No. She got to jazz up those boring black dresses with a sweet ornament colored scarlet and get away from those Puritan bitchez. Well played, Hester, well played.

Then “Gone With the Wind”- enter Belle Watling. A full on prossie with a brothel to prove it, she spent Reconstruction dying her hair red, wearing low cut gowns, and decorating her sweet little bordello with mirrors. In a word- modernity. I do those things all the time!

Prossies have more fun. That’s why they get their own holiday- Halloween. I’ve heard the argument about it being a Pagan thang, blah, blah, blah. No. It’s about finding your inner prossie. Lyfe is just better when there’s fishnets and glitter involved.

So, I say it’s time to recognize the prossies. Cut ‘em a break and take them out for a fun night on the town at your nearest hooker bar! It’s not seedy, it’s historical! It’s also charity, and I’m pretty sure you can write it off as a tax deduction.

All right, I really must run. There’s a man saying “adeish?” to me and I gots to be covering up my forearms.

You’re welcome for this,

Starr

Note: I wrote this entire thing while listening to “99 Problems”. That’s because not only am I a big deal pimp, but let’s face it, I’ve got 99 problems and a [rawther annoying female] isn’t one. 

Contributed by: Rebecca Starr Brown

Contributed by: Caroline Smith