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Holla, my friend's band's CD well, an EP, at least has finally been launched! You can totally download it on iTunes.
Check out my fav "Bang Theory." They wrote it about me y'all.
This is the band's site, it needs more hot pics of my friend.
I've interviewed at a number of places, and they all urge employees to show up for work at 8 a.m.
That means we get to leave at 4 p.m., right?
By the time Ashlee came on stage, I wasn't nearly as buzzed as I had been during the insane cab ride (where I learned Johnny Cochran died what happens now to all of his clients?!) or during the opening act of Pepper's Ghost (Brady Bunch Kids meets the Beatles). But it didn't matter. Bitch was fucking amazing.
Ashlee did a great job of recreating her songs, note for note, which is sort of the opposite of Christina Aguilera, who took her concert tour as an opportunity to artisitically reinterpret her music. I know I'm giving both of these girls way too much credit here, but Ashlee honestly surprised us with how strong her voice was. I just wish she had more of a stage presence; I was 5th row center, but the experience would have been the same if I were in the nosebleeds.
I should mention that she totally fucked up during the encore performance of "Pieces of Me." Her voice was shot to hell, I have no idea how she is gonna keep up with a nation-wide tour.
Okay, class, now do we all remember Billy from the now-defunct Wet Dreaming blog?
Well, it looks like Billy, I mean, Cliff Rhodes has taken the high road and become a porn star. After skimming through the free gallery, I can understand why he had such a difficult time keeping his fly zipped.
Seriously, though, I mean, you've got to be kidding me. Augh. At least he doesn't lie about his age.
This is, like, totally the coming-out story of my life!
Anyway, he went to the [bathroom] and I had to go at the same time, so we were standing at the urinals and I was trying to lean over to see his dick and he said "what are you like gay or something?" and I said "yes", so we ended up having sex in the toilet for 2 hours and his girlfreidn Kerry ended up coming into the men's toilets because she was worried about what had happeend to us, and she caught us and freaked out and ran outside and told everyone. Then she took an overdose and nearly died. Then me and Craig were like boyfriends for a whole week, but then I got bored of him and dumped him because he was too clingy and I needed like SPACE and FREEDOM to BE MYSELF.
Yes, it's a parody blog, but of whom, exactly, I am not sure... LOL. [via plasticbag, which I read when I have nothing to do at work, like today]
P.S. And just for fun: the latest "It" buddy icon... Tubular!
P.P.S. Kelly Clarkson: "What's a blog?"
OMG, I am blogging so fuckin much today!
Oh man, I can't wait for the rap songs featuring such lyrics as "I'm gonna eat ya pussy like a Big Mac, gon' pour on mah secret sauce, yo yo / Hold the onions." [via boing boing, a daily read]
So I show up to this Logan Circle apartment with a notepad to jot down measurements, a checkbook in case I need to write a security deposit, ridiculously high expectations, and my boyfriend. Of course the building is gorgeous, and of course it's all too good to be true.
First of all, the woman who is renting this apartment doesn't actually own it, as I previously thought. She's simply breaking her lease which means the application process is done through the property manager, which means that if someone has already turned in an application, the apartment ain't mine.
This is a real shame, because it's in a great area (Logan Circle), has three nice bedrooms, a private roof deck, and the perfect rent (between $600 and $700 per person). I doubt I'll be able to find an apartment like this before May.
Oh, well. It can't hurt to call the property office and attempt to apply. Hopefully my job interview on Wednesday will end in a better way.
P.S. Is anyone in D.C. going to the Ashlee concert tonight? BECAUSE I AM, Y'ALL!!!
I feel so comfortable at home on my parents' sprawling New York suburban ranch. Consider the living room, above. It's so warm and inviting. The big, rich-looking, oversized couch. The cozy, golden lighting gawsh, I love good lighting. And the subtle signs of everyday life scattered here and there, despite my mother's obsession with keeping things neat and clean. (I'll let you scan the photo for my father's shoes, a napkin left over from today's Easter dinner party, my mother's reading glasses resting on the local newspaper.)
My parents' sense of design inspires me. And they somehow keep the house looking luxe on a budget. I'm looking at a two-bedroom duplex in Logan Circle tomorrow (hardwood floors!), and unlike the current shithole I'm inhabiting, this next apartment needs to become my home. I'm an adult now. Adults live in nice apartments. Apartments without mini-fridges and bean bag chairs.
So, anyway, yeah, I'm sorry for getting all sentimental up in here, but how could I not, after watching my parents slow-dance to Dean Martin's "That's Amore" (so cliche, and yes, that is the CD we were playing) in the living room after the lamb. Even if it means giving up my so-called "city living" for a suburban ranch, I want this life.
After a night spent drinking at the local bars until 5 a.m. (a far cry from D.C.'s 2 a.m. last call), I realized one thing.
I am still in love with the high school quarterback.
Sure, he dropped out of community college and spends all his time at the Irish pubs in town, but he is just SO FUCKING HOT, OMG.
I'm at home on our suburban New York ranch, watching "Oprah" with my mother. In the last 50 minutes, I've had to explain to my mother why Meg Ryan's lips are so weird looking, why Priscilla Presley's cheeks are so big, and why black women get weaves ("Oh my gawsh, they sew hair into your scalp?!").
And oh my gawsh, and I just saw the funniest, most ridiculous commercial featuring Sam Champion. I love him, and I love being home!
I want to move to San Francisco, just so that when I type craigslist.org it goes straight to my city.
I just got back from my school's career fair, and boy, I am disappointed. Though I'm sure I'd find a fulfilling career in debt collection (when it comes to being a douche bag, I'm over-qualified), none of the companies really spoke to me.
But who cares? I have an interview next week, so I couldn't be happier. Now, I'm in the computer lab so I can't do a fancy screen-grab of iChat, but my friend posed a good question, re: gays and PR.
russellXXXX: why do gays do pr
russellXXXX: they have failed at it for generations
LOL.
So when it comes to landing a job in communications, getting The Washington Post to publish an op-ed you wrote for a client is a very good thing. I showed my portfolio to a woman who heads the pr department of a non-profit, and she was impressed. I might embark on her same career track -- do communications at a non-profit for a year or two, and then move to a pr firm or larger company.
If you know of any D.C. openings in pr or communications, let me know and I'll forward you my resume. Do not take this as an opportunity to obtain my address and phone number, Boi from Troy.
The apartment situation is looking up, too. I'm trying to find a place in Columbia Heights or U Street, so, once again, forward me any leads.
Today Agatha was kind enough to give me a winning Pepsi cap rather than throw it into the garbage, so I bought the most random mp3 from iTunes: Mariah Carey's new single, "It's Like That." Um, okay, I'll tell you what it's like: a big fat steaming pile of shit. Augh. When it comes to Mariah's career, somebody needs to make like Terri Schiavo and pull the plug.
Dear Toby,
This is Tony Adonis the new Director of Marketing and Public Relations for Jet Set Productions.
I was wondering if you could add a link to our Wet Palms Blog on your website? It's the official behind-the-scenes look at the making of America's first dirty soap opera. I'm sure your loyal readers will enjoy it.
Thanks, in advance, for supporting Jet Set Productions and our current project Wet Palms.
Sincerely
Tony Adonis
Director of Marketing & Public Relations
Jet Set Productions
Okay, um, someone obviously doesn't read my Web site very often.
On an unrelated note: If I change my name to something sexy like "Tony Adonis", maybe I will more easily score a job at a p.r. firm?
This parody of "The Ashlee Simpson Show" is just a little unfair. Now, if it were her dad depicted as fellating a record exec, that would be a different story...
Today I was one of those people who have nothing better to do on a Monday afternoon than eat lunch at Legal Seafoods and see 2 p.m. showing of "Be Cool." Man, what a weird-ass movie. The best scenes include The Rock, who is suddenly VERY hot and actually plays the role of a homosexual. During the last scene, I said, "Boy, I was really hoping they'd show The Rock with no shirt on" and lo and behold, they do! Dreams really do come true.
Anyway, thank you all for those wonderful e-mails. I'm getting bent outta shape over nothing, but still employment and apartment opportunities are always welcome.
My boyfriend had a true Toby experience Saturday afternoon when I randomly started sobbing during a scenic drive through McLean, Virginia. The pressure of finding a job and an apartment after graduation has finally gotten to me, and it's all I think about from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to sleep.
So the tears started pouring and didn't really end until we parked in the lot of an outlet mall and talked things through. Basically, I'm not happy with my internship in public relations, I don't know what I want to do as a career, I look into the future and see a total blank, I have no idea where I'm going to live, I'm afraid I won't make any money, I'm not confident and I feel like I've learned absolutely nothing from the past four years.
And at the same time, I feel hugely talented, that I'm destined for great things. Or at least for happiness. But I don't even know how to go about finding a job. So anyway, if I've been a cranky bitch to you lately, this is why. I know there is no excuse, but I'm under a huge amount of stress right now.
This is seriously the stupidest entry but I just needed to vent. Boy is coming over and we are going to eat ice cream and I'm going to forget about this homework assignment and my jobless and apartmentless existence, just for tonight.
My good friend David will be on MSNBC's "Connected: Coast to Coast" today at noon that is pretty fucking cool! I think he'll be discussing celebrity blogging, so be sure to watch. Sadly, I'll be unable to tune in, seeing as to how I have a job and all. Stupid job.
To this day, I still don't understand David's Web site. He insists on writing in the first person plural, which, even if done ironically, has always been something that annoys me. And the editorial content doesn't really distinguish itself, neither in substance nor tone, from that of Gawker. Oh great, another SI Newhouse joke! Somebody sure is in the know.
But I get the impression that David goes above and beyond to promote his site to advertisers and the media, which explains his guest appearance on MSNBC today. He is a very driven person and I'm eager to see where he ends up next.
I am staring at this screen while thinking of all the people I've met as a consequence of blogging.
That's it, mostly. Just thinking of all these people. And how the stars never really intended for me to cross paths with any of them.
There is probably a reason for that.
No posting today. I'm writing the worst paper of my college career: a comparison of Aristophanes' "Lysistrata" to "Spice World: The Spice Girls Movie."
Um, how could you not have body dysmorphic disorder when The Independent describes your face as "a Picasso in the painter's early Cubist phase" and your eyes as "a little too far apart"?
Though [Shirley] Manson has now learnt to love her red hair she remains deeply insecure about her looks. Now she sees a therapist and has a name for her particular neurosis.
"It's called body dysmorphia and it's something I'll always battle with," she says. "It means you don't see yourself physically as you actually are. I always feel embarrassed talking about it because I feel a lot of people will roll their eyes and say: 'Oh look, there she is harping on about the way she looks. Well, she can't feel that bad as she has her photograph in the paper.'
"But I feel I should tell the truth about how women feel and how we do things that are contradictory. That's just human nature.
"Yes, I do have my picture taken, and I look glamorous and I have my hair and make-up done for me but don't mistake that for being in love with the way I look. I look at those photos sometimes and, well ... it doesn't make me feel good."
Garbage posted this article on their Web site, and while I'm not happy to hear that Shirley has body dysmorphic disorder, too, it's still comforting to know that someone is out there talking about this problem. It affects me every day and probably will for the rest of my life.
Amy Sedaris' contribution to the current issue of BlackBook -- "Diary of a Mad Comedian" -- is, for the most part, a total bore. (Though taking a Coinstar receipt for $72 to the cashier and asking for it all back in change is something I've now added to my To Do list.)
The funniest bit is a quote from her brother Paul, which will be my away message for the next three weeks:
My brother Paul called to tell me he had to fire one of his helpers. Like he always says, "Youre only as good as your Mexican."
Ironic racism is hil-AR-ious. (via goldenfiddle, a daily read)
That's right, Mr. Man, idling in your black Mercedes outside of Whole Foods. I kissed my boy on the lips before heading off to work... Jeaaalous?
Last night's "True Hollywood Story: Full House" was everything I expected it to be and more. Let us all remember that Mary-Kate did most of the work during the first season since her sister Ashley was crying half the time. What a scoop! Also, Uncle Joey farted between takes, and everyone mistakenly thought Jodie Sweetin would emerge as the stand-out star of the show. Girl's got a nice set of manchesters though, as a recent picture of her in a bikini indicated.
Oh, and Bob Saget was known for his "risque" jokes on set, such as "I want to put a shoe box on my lap and give you a puppet show." How rude.
Oh my god, I have done all of these things. Have you?
The cliches I especially hate AND HAVE SEEN EVERYWHERE LATELY:
* "Cryptic" blogging to seem cool. ("I can't really say anything about this right now, but big important things are happening to someone we all know.")
* Having sycophantic commenters.
* Having, going to, or blogging about any sort of "blogger get-together", "blogger party" or "blogger bash."
* Blogging in the first-person plural.
* Apologizing for not blogging for a while because "things have been crazy - I can't talk about it yet but suffice it to say, I've already mentally spent the advance money, lol!"
Final set of Atlantic City pics, I'm back in D.C. now.
The only gay-operated blog not deserving of a hate crime:
More Atlantic City pics. I'm currently in the red, but only by $15 or so.
Turns out the Tropicana in Atlantic City has free wireless, baby. Haven't made any money, but I haven't really lost any either.
Cults are for lovers.
1. 60 Watt Type "B" Lightbulbs
2. Combos Brand Pizzeria Pretzels
Well, it's March 4, and you know what that means: The onset of yet another undeserved week-long recess from the per se grind of academia. Spring break, people! Get excited!
I have no shame in admitting that I will be spending most of next week in Atlantic City with Agatha and Co. Donations are not only accepted, but encouraged! (Note: I can only accept PayPal donations that are linked to a bank account, not a credit card. For credit card donations, click here.)
I don't have much money to kick around, but hopefully I'll at least break even. Enjoy next week's guest blogger, whoever it is.
Ooh, lookie, the Gay.com model moonlights as a vocal artist when he's not concealing his erection with the thin veil of an American flag. And apparently he and his subordinate model-friend are in a committed relationship, whatever that means. (Do they share joint custody of a Gay.com personal ad? No idea.)
The song that plays on his index page is okay, sort of like a more gay but less talented Clay Aiken (think about that one for a minute). As far as his pitch? Well, let's just say he's a carpenter's dream: flat as a board.
(P.S. If anyone gets the "carpenter's dream" reference, I will give you $1.)
This is something Towleroad would probably drool over, if only because it features two shirtless men and an unapologetic pun. But honestly, I know Gay.com is in the business of encouraging and facilitating promiscuous sex, but are ads like this one really necessary?
Augh. Leave it to the homosexuals to eroticize patriotism.
(Thanks, Spencer.)
Who just got pre-sale tickets to Garbage at 9:30 Club on April 21?!
ME!!!
This will be the third time I'm seeing Garbage in concert -- the first time a few years ago at 9:30 Club, the second time at GWU when they toured with No Doubt.
Not sure how long the pre-sale is going on, but the password is "parade."
For my Public Speaking 301 manuscript reading, I selected a speech delivered a few years ago by Bono.
Oh, no, wait. I didn't read from that manuscript. Some other retard in my class did, and he is doing a knock-out job of fucking it up. The jokes probably didn't work for Bono, and they certainly aren't working for you, tubbo.
God, if you are going to make that self-deprecating crack at Bono's sunglasses, you could at least "show some effort" and wear a pair to class. Augh.