Well, that was odd. So, my last post mentioned both Eleven and D$M, right? Guess who has a huge banner over the club advertising her hosting their Saturday dance night? None other than Candis Cayne, the awesome transgendered actress from the show. I've yet to go, but still, seeing two random things come together in your mind and then in real life is...odd.
Which, further - as much as I hate Oprah and this "Secret" b.s. philosophy of "your thoughts control the world" sometimes it gets really weird. The latest Los Angeles magazine shows up in the mail on a Wednesday, complete with a huge coverline saying "Forget Earthquakes: You Should Be Worrying about Fires" and then an inside headline proclaiming that if fires coincided with the Santa Anas, it could be the worst disaster ever seen. Then, two days later, that's pretty much exactly what happens.
So I'm gonna try to keep thinking about awesome things. Like Clive Owen. Scotch. Shirtlessness. Then good, quick, clean & dirty, zipless fuck experience with Scotch, not the way too much and way, way too emotional one from Friday night.
Oh, and, while browsing thru Amoeba the other day (I had to kill time since a horrible, horrible waitress at Pete's made me "late" for an AFI screening), I found a Gay Zombie movie. The title? "Creatures from the Pink Lagoon." H___ & I decided it was a borderline pun, but I'm still renting it for further pun research purposes.
Oct 10, 2007
Trashy, addictive TV, part 2
Back in school, in my TV class, I wrote a paper on Nip/Tuck. The main point of it was that while subtlety is all well and good, melodrama has its place. And it's a fun place. Plus, playing things at a fever pitch sometimes means you can get away with more.
If you're not chasing the cocktail of Gossip Girl's NY porn + money + beautiful pampered people doing delicious things with a shot of Dirty Sexy Money, then you don't deserve to drink the melodrama Koolaid at all.
Why bother underplaying when you can use real live lions as a punchline? Why not go all the way with the Paris Hilton caricature? ODing, naughty priests and trannies (who are definitiely *not* hookers) in the pilot? BRING IT!
Everyone here knows they're ridiculous and they seem to be loving it.
Also, Peter Krause is possibly the least appreciated TV actor around. Not even a Globe for Sports Night or Six Feet Under.
Twintuition! Is Samaire awesome at playing vapid and limited because she is so vapid and limited herself? How on earth did fugly Bryce Dallas Howard snag hottie Seth Gabel?
As cheesily fun as the show is, it sometimes veers from melodrama to actual drama. With great actors like this, it can work. Donald Sutherland walked that razor's edge last week and Baldwin is balancing this week. [Jill Clayburgh is her usual awesome self.]
"I don't need twintuition to see you googling her ass!" "Don't you mean ogling?"
Complementary Bulgari watches as party favors? God, it's such a masturbatory aspirational fantasy and I love it.
It took me forever to place Karen's hubby Freddie as the villainous frat boy from Van Wilder. He looks different without dog semen in his mouth. Insert obvious horny comment here. I do love those All-American looks -- young, dumb and...well, you know.
That's the thing about GG and DSM - I went to a private high school, but in the South. A college with beautiful, wealthy people. But I'm not a scion or a junior. I wasn't in a frat.
So it all seems familiar yet completely foreign to me. Which is why I can't stop watching. I've been near there, but not there there. Sure, I've stayed at the Palace, but never went to Le Cirque 2000. Add some music, some flashy editing and a few bon mots that I don't forget that night in a drunken haze -- and turn the volume up. Almost as enjoyable to watch as it is to (nearly) live. Which I do enjoy. I'll just have to take detailed notes and turn it all into a fabulous roman a clef or soap later.
[Seriously, GG has convinced me that if I *had* been at more of the lakehouse parties in high school doing the observational writerly thing, I'd have such sellable material by now.]
On that note: assuming their kitchen staff gets "unexcused," Eleven is becoming my lounge of choice in WeHo. A fantastic decor - it's owned by either Sid or Marty Kroft - hot waiters that can make drinks as well as they can show off their abs. Plus, insanely good onion rings. Blue cheese dressing, greasy yet light and flaky. And possibly the most perfectly sweet/sour onions this side of Vidalia. I think I went there at least 3 times the week they opened to pig out on them (and booze + boys, duh.) They're having happy hour from 4-8 with 2 for 1 drinks and a cheapo bar menu. There's also the possibility of chatting up the crowd, since it's a nice atmosphere. A lounge is just for that. Who knows, you may just meet someone with a famous last name. Not that I did or anything. Or am wanting them to call me.
If you're not chasing the cocktail of Gossip Girl's NY porn + money + beautiful pampered people doing delicious things with a shot of Dirty Sexy Money, then you don't deserve to drink the melodrama Koolaid at all.
Why bother underplaying when you can use real live lions as a punchline? Why not go all the way with the Paris Hilton caricature? ODing, naughty priests and trannies (who are definitiely *not* hookers) in the pilot? BRING IT!
Everyone here knows they're ridiculous and they seem to be loving it.
Also, Peter Krause is possibly the least appreciated TV actor around. Not even a Globe for Sports Night or Six Feet Under.
Twintuition! Is Samaire awesome at playing vapid and limited because she is so vapid and limited herself? How on earth did fugly Bryce Dallas Howard snag hottie Seth Gabel?
As cheesily fun as the show is, it sometimes veers from melodrama to actual drama. With great actors like this, it can work. Donald Sutherland walked that razor's edge last week and Baldwin is balancing this week. [Jill Clayburgh is her usual awesome self.]
"I don't need twintuition to see you googling her ass!" "Don't you mean ogling?"
Complementary Bulgari watches as party favors? God, it's such a masturbatory aspirational fantasy and I love it.
It took me forever to place Karen's hubby Freddie as the villainous frat boy from Van Wilder. He looks different without dog semen in his mouth. Insert obvious horny comment here. I do love those All-American looks -- young, dumb and...well, you know.
That's the thing about GG and DSM - I went to a private high school, but in the South. A college with beautiful, wealthy people. But I'm not a scion or a junior. I wasn't in a frat.
So it all seems familiar yet completely foreign to me. Which is why I can't stop watching. I've been near there, but not there there. Sure, I've stayed at the Palace, but never went to Le Cirque 2000. Add some music, some flashy editing and a few bon mots that I don't forget that night in a drunken haze -- and turn the volume up. Almost as enjoyable to watch as it is to (nearly) live. Which I do enjoy. I'll just have to take detailed notes and turn it all into a fabulous roman a clef or soap later.
[Seriously, GG has convinced me that if I *had* been at more of the lakehouse parties in high school doing the observational writerly thing, I'd have such sellable material by now.]
On that note: assuming their kitchen staff gets "unexcused," Eleven is becoming my lounge of choice in WeHo. A fantastic decor - it's owned by either Sid or Marty Kroft - hot waiters that can make drinks as well as they can show off their abs. Plus, insanely good onion rings. Blue cheese dressing, greasy yet light and flaky. And possibly the most perfectly sweet/sour onions this side of Vidalia. I think I went there at least 3 times the week they opened to pig out on them (and booze + boys, duh.) They're having happy hour from 4-8 with 2 for 1 drinks and a cheapo bar menu. There's also the possibility of chatting up the crowd, since it's a nice atmosphere. A lounge is just for that. Who knows, you may just meet someone with a famous last name. Not that I did or anything. Or am wanting them to call me.
trashily addictive-y television
I threatened you on Facebook and, yeah, it's on. GG, episode 4, live-ish (at the ads) blog below. [And I said method liveblogging, so there was at least one Martini before the start]:
9:20 p.m. -- A Breakfast at Tiffany's dream sequence? Awesome. The wistfulness of Moon River gets me every time, but nice for it to be utilized for its darker underpinnings.
And yeah, we all saw S being incorporated into the photo shoot a mile away, but who cares. Plus, nearly 90% of the "inspiration" S gave was taken directly from ANTM.
I love how this show just drops you into the world ("It's NoLita, not Noshowers" "I hate Vera's models") and just expects you to catch up. Or feel totally like a lame outsider if you don't.
The outfits, the outfits, the outfits. So perfect -- the 40s inspired Waldorf designs? And then...weirdness. Like Chuck Bass dressed all Sean John. Huh? Or the fact that S is dressed hoochier than the rest of the supposedly refined and preppy characters half the time (denim cootershoots a few eps back!) and yet gets praised by B's mom for her taste.
9:33 PM -- Of all the ridiculous leaps of faith this show asks us to believe, the fact that the Humphrey's are "poor"-er (or inferior to) the UES-ers is the biggest one. Their kitchen alone costs more than my life. It's in Williamsburg! The trendiest place on earth. All the exposed brick! The pull-down garage door divider thing-y? Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. WANT.
Point being, if Williamsburg = Silverlake, if I *had* bought property in the West Coast equivalent 3-4 years ago? I'd be able to be brunching in the Palace right now.
"5 boroughs, 5000 chances to get laid?" I know he's a sleazeball, but I admire him for being true to his nature and honest about who he is.
The Easton Ellis comparison is easy, but you could cut the homoerotic tension between Nate and the hippie dropout with a 24-karat knife. It's probably because Nate really does resemble Ian Somerhandler. A lot.
9:45 - Catfight! I *do* wonder how long they can go back-and-forth between the poles of the frenemies spectrum, but it's enjoyable while it lasts. Plus, super bonus points for staging one showdown during a field hockey match.
I know it helps that she's staring down at me from every other billboard in town, but Blake Lively's hair is insanely good. It's like a mane or something. A full, well-conditioned mane.
9:59: Wow, this show really *is* NY porn. And, it goes without saying, but I'm saying it anyway -- everything is made more interesting with Kristen Bell narrating. Just imagine your - or my - life with KB overdubbing even the most mundane things.
"Spotted this a.m. - HG hitting the drive-thru at McD's for some Monopoly action. We know he loves to play games, but will the food go to his thighs or win him a valuable prize?"
I Like to Watch over at Salon has basically said it, but I will again - you have to love the characters being fully committed to the bitchiness. I mean, they stay at the Palace (hey, I've been there! And shamelessly threw myself at the concierge. To no avail, since I was staying with my mom), which was a Leona Helmsley property. And I can totally picture anyone on the show pulling a her and leaving all their money to their dog out of spite.
Okay, I'm open to suggestions/comments from my tens - dozens, even! - of readers. Especially if we can create a signature drink for the show. You know you love me. XOXO, - HG
9:20 p.m. -- A Breakfast at Tiffany's dream sequence? Awesome. The wistfulness of Moon River gets me every time, but nice for it to be utilized for its darker underpinnings.
And yeah, we all saw S being incorporated into the photo shoot a mile away, but who cares. Plus, nearly 90% of the "inspiration" S gave was taken directly from ANTM.
I love how this show just drops you into the world ("It's NoLita, not Noshowers" "I hate Vera's models") and just expects you to catch up. Or feel totally like a lame outsider if you don't.
The outfits, the outfits, the outfits. So perfect -- the 40s inspired Waldorf designs? And then...weirdness. Like Chuck Bass dressed all Sean John. Huh? Or the fact that S is dressed hoochier than the rest of the supposedly refined and preppy characters half the time (denim cootershoots a few eps back!) and yet gets praised by B's mom for her taste.
9:33 PM -- Of all the ridiculous leaps of faith this show asks us to believe, the fact that the Humphrey's are "poor"-er (or inferior to) the UES-ers is the biggest one. Their kitchen alone costs more than my life. It's in Williamsburg! The trendiest place on earth. All the exposed brick! The pull-down garage door divider thing-y? Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. WANT.
Point being, if Williamsburg = Silverlake, if I *had* bought property in the West Coast equivalent 3-4 years ago? I'd be able to be brunching in the Palace right now.
"5 boroughs, 5000 chances to get laid?" I know he's a sleazeball, but I admire him for being true to his nature and honest about who he is.
The Easton Ellis comparison is easy, but you could cut the homoerotic tension between Nate and the hippie dropout with a 24-karat knife. It's probably because Nate really does resemble Ian Somerhandler. A lot.
9:45 - Catfight! I *do* wonder how long they can go back-and-forth between the poles of the frenemies spectrum, but it's enjoyable while it lasts. Plus, super bonus points for staging one showdown during a field hockey match.
I know it helps that she's staring down at me from every other billboard in town, but Blake Lively's hair is insanely good. It's like a mane or something. A full, well-conditioned mane.
9:59: Wow, this show really *is* NY porn. And, it goes without saying, but I'm saying it anyway -- everything is made more interesting with Kristen Bell narrating. Just imagine your - or my - life with KB overdubbing even the most mundane things.
"Spotted this a.m. - HG hitting the drive-thru at McD's for some Monopoly action. We know he loves to play games, but will the food go to his thighs or win him a valuable prize?"
I Like to Watch over at Salon has basically said it, but I will again - you have to love the characters being fully committed to the bitchiness. I mean, they stay at the Palace (hey, I've been there! And shamelessly threw myself at the concierge. To no avail, since I was staying with my mom), which was a Leona Helmsley property. And I can totally picture anyone on the show pulling a her and leaving all their money to their dog out of spite.
Okay, I'm open to suggestions/comments from my tens - dozens, even! - of readers. Especially if we can create a signature drink for the show. You know you love me. XOXO, - HG
Sep 25, 2007
the 'duh' in 'dui'
Seriously, Least. Surprising. DUI. Ever.
The whole thing can be summed up in the following story, which took place on my birthday.
MP: [Charming anecdote about her friend being harassed by a drunken guy in the bushes.] And guess who it was?
HA: Kiefer Sutherland?
H. said this in the most perfect deadpan, "oh, you know how that Kiefer is" voice, like we knew him.
I think the bushes incident was a Defamer sighting, but I'm not sure.
I, uhm, don't watch 24 but if it - a show renowned for its conservative political streak - is getting a lady president who likes the ladies off-screen [Cherry Jones], is that a sign of a shifting cultural climate?
Also, there was a semi-recent BI about a show trying to cram in a shitload of eps before the strike and how the lead was resorting to drugs to do round-the-clock filming. Does anyone know what I'm talking about and could find it? I kiss you in advance. Because I certainly don't know of any friends who spotting him snorting at the Standard in recent years, but...well, yeah, I do.
I can't act too high-and-mighty because who among us hasn't looked like this:
after a few?
[ROWR/Woof!/purr....and image shameless ganked from Cityrag.blogspot.com]
Speaking of rowr: dude walking past me at Sbucks + scrub pants + him in boxers (or, geez, commando!?) = holy mother of GOD, can I give *him* his physical instead? This dude's a tall drink of water, but wowza. And now I don't need coffee to perk me up.
The whole thing can be summed up in the following story, which took place on my birthday.
MP: [Charming anecdote about her friend being harassed by a drunken guy in the bushes.] And guess who it was?
HA: Kiefer Sutherland?
H. said this in the most perfect deadpan, "oh, you know how that Kiefer is" voice, like we knew him.
I think the bushes incident was a Defamer sighting, but I'm not sure.
I, uhm, don't watch 24 but if it - a show renowned for its conservative political streak - is getting a lady president who likes the ladies off-screen [Cherry Jones], is that a sign of a shifting cultural climate?
Also, there was a semi-recent BI about a show trying to cram in a shitload of eps before the strike and how the lead was resorting to drugs to do round-the-clock filming. Does anyone know what I'm talking about and could find it? I kiss you in advance. Because I certainly don't know of any friends who spotting him snorting at the Standard in recent years, but...well, yeah, I do.
I can't act too high-and-mighty because who among us hasn't looked like this:
after a few?
[ROWR/Woof!/purr....and image shameless ganked from Cityrag.blogspot.com]
Speaking of rowr: dude walking past me at Sbucks + scrub pants + him in boxers (or, geez, commando!?) = holy mother of GOD, can I give *him* his physical instead? This dude's a tall drink of water, but wowza. And now I don't need coffee to perk me up.
Sep 3, 2007
further adventures in juxtaposition...
After CollegeHumor was actually, inadvertently funny for a change, banner ads prove hilariously stupid/stupidly hilarious once again:
The awesome cats at LOLgay macro-ed the heck out of Craig (submit yours today!). But then there's the weirdness of having a "3 conservative books for $1 each" ad next to it. Which, huh? I wonder if they bought the ad in hopes that LOLgay would attract right-wingers who want to laugh at the fairy's funny costumes and street fairs...and then are completely stoked for getting an awesome deal!
Because, you know, those conservatives have some really good points when they're not being total hypocrites. Or giving coke and pot to barely legal pages.
[Sidebar: free-flowing drugs, sex with older men in suits and the chance to live for years off the tell-all book deal money? Shit, I picked the wrong career.]
In further, further adventures of juxtaposition... MTV's ad breaks are going back and forth between spots for the VMAs, which are all "VEGAS! WOOT! LIVE! MADNESS! YEAH" and promos for Resident Evil:Extinction, which pitch the city as a dried-up, post-apocalyptic wasteland.
And if Britney really *does* perform, we're going with the latter. Because damn her to hell for answering the question "what's more of an earworm than -ella-ella-ella-ey" with the answer of repeating the words "gimme more" in no less than 27 protooled variations.
The awesome cats at LOLgay macro-ed the heck out of Craig (submit yours today!). But then there's the weirdness of having a "3 conservative books for $1 each" ad next to it. Which, huh? I wonder if they bought the ad in hopes that LOLgay would attract right-wingers who want to laugh at the fairy's funny costumes and street fairs...and then are completely stoked for getting an awesome deal!
Because, you know, those conservatives have some really good points when they're not being total hypocrites. Or giving coke and pot to barely legal pages.
[Sidebar: free-flowing drugs, sex with older men in suits and the chance to live for years off the tell-all book deal money? Shit, I picked the wrong career.]
In further, further adventures of juxtaposition... MTV's ad breaks are going back and forth between spots for the VMAs, which are all "VEGAS! WOOT! LIVE! MADNESS! YEAH" and promos for Resident Evil:Extinction, which pitch the city as a dried-up, post-apocalyptic wasteland.
And if Britney really *does* perform, we're going with the latter. Because damn her to hell for answering the question "what's more of an earworm than -ella-ella-ella-ey" with the answer of repeating the words "gimme more" in no less than 27 protooled variations.
Aug 16, 2007
black velvet margarita
Something I just learned today -- Madonna born/Elvis died. Same day, different years.
There's a fantastic place on Cahuenga (ish?) called Velvet Margarita. You can stop in for a drink in the middle of the day and it feels like 1 a.m. when you walk through the door. Bring sunglasses, because when you walk back out, you'll be reacting like Spike on the Summer Solstice. Point being -- they *always* have some kitschy old Elvis movie playing on the gigantic plasmas over the bar. Always. Kick back, enjoy a frosty pina colada (they have many, many variations of the margarita, most of which are great) and have some laughs.
Meanwhile, Alannah Myles's purr tells us what it was all about.
[One of my favorite songs ever and I had to look her name up. One-hit wonder much?]
When I was clicking through the rest of the NY Post, I found that Bob Marley is now the number one object of black velvet paintings. Make of it what you will.
The odd thing is that his music doesn't have much emotional resonance to/for me. So I'm kinda befuddled as to the massive lines around Graceland and candlelight vigils to memorialize someone these people didn't even *know*. It seems so silly somehow and yet...doesn't.
But I suppose that's true of so many things in life.
There's a fantastic place on Cahuenga (ish?) called Velvet Margarita. You can stop in for a drink in the middle of the day and it feels like 1 a.m. when you walk through the door. Bring sunglasses, because when you walk back out, you'll be reacting like Spike on the Summer Solstice. Point being -- they *always* have some kitschy old Elvis movie playing on the gigantic plasmas over the bar. Always. Kick back, enjoy a frosty pina colada (they have many, many variations of the margarita, most of which are great) and have some laughs.
Meanwhile, Alannah Myles's purr tells us what it was all about.
[One of my favorite songs ever and I had to look her name up. One-hit wonder much?]
When I was clicking through the rest of the NY Post, I found that Bob Marley is now the number one object of black velvet paintings. Make of it what you will.
The odd thing is that his music doesn't have much emotional resonance to/for me. So I'm kinda befuddled as to the massive lines around Graceland and candlelight vigils to memorialize someone these people didn't even *know*. It seems so silly somehow and yet...doesn't.
But I suppose that's true of so many things in life.
mean girls, starring page six.
As I previously mentioned. I heart the blind items. I also love reading Gawker and the Post, even though NYC is driven by such different industries (publishing, fashion, etc.) than LA, so I have no idea who half the people mentioned *are.* In a weird way, that makes it more fun. They become these interesting creatures who I don't really know from movies/TV/whatever, but know all the gossip about. It's kinda like how I dig reading British mags like Tatler and British OK! (old-school version) at the doctor's office -- even though the former apparently has half the Parker-Bowlses on their writing staff.
All this is leading up to today's BIs from Page Six:
The first one - probably Enrique Iglesias (Rico Suave...geddit?). I feel like the spouses of Marc Anthony and Antonio are too famous for a "don't tell his wife!" allusion not to be made. Or J. Lo is about to slit her fabulously-accessorized wrists. Whichever.
For the second - I'm thinking this Olivia Palermo person. I wanted it to be Tinsley Mortimer, because her hubby is cute in that blondish East Coast Preppy Way. And is named "Topper," which leads to all opportunities for puns. Plus, I'd get to call her "Ashley Winksdale," as Lily Allen did while schnockered.
But. She's a real socialite, whatever that means. And with a husband, not boyfriend.
Also, the first section of today's Page Six is all about how Olivia and Tinsley's massively bitchy bitchiness prevented them from helping out a Darfur benefit. [Complete with great headline: "Socialites' Snit Scars Benefit."] Not content to have one lady comment that these 'tards would cause the recently-deceased Brooke Astor to roll over in her grave, Page Six is totally gonna make us think your boyfriend's a homo. Good job, Palermo.
He does have some massive gayface going on in this picture, from her "fansite."
Fansite that she obviously runs herself. A quick glance at some previous Gawker stories reveals that she's like this insane pit of need for attention and self-promotion.
Hmm, reminds me of another "fauxcialite."
Now's probably the place where I should mention Darfur and genocide and caring, but Slate tells me that genocide is so over.
[No, really, they had an article on how we're pretty much immune to the word now.]
All this is leading up to today's BIs from Page Six:
Just Asking
WHICH suave Latino actor has been tempting sociable cocktail waitresses to act out his sultry movie role scenes in the bathroom of a certain downtown hot spot? . . . WHICH "fauxcialite" has tongues wagging that her longtime boyfriend prefers men? She was overheard avoiding questions about their sex life at a Hamptons party, while he was spotted checking out guys.
WHICH suave Latino actor has been tempting sociable cocktail waitresses to act out his sultry movie role scenes in the bathroom of a certain downtown hot spot? . . . WHICH "fauxcialite" has tongues wagging that her longtime boyfriend prefers men? She was overheard avoiding questions about their sex life at a Hamptons party, while he was spotted checking out guys.
The first one - probably Enrique Iglesias (Rico Suave...geddit?). I feel like the spouses of Marc Anthony and Antonio are too famous for a "don't tell his wife!" allusion not to be made. Or J. Lo is about to slit her fabulously-accessorized wrists. Whichever.
For the second - I'm thinking this Olivia Palermo person. I wanted it to be Tinsley Mortimer, because her hubby is cute in that blondish East Coast Preppy Way. And is named "Topper," which leads to all opportunities for puns. Plus, I'd get to call her "Ashley Winksdale," as Lily Allen did while schnockered.
But. She's a real socialite, whatever that means. And with a husband, not boyfriend.
Also, the first section of today's Page Six is all about how Olivia and Tinsley's massively bitchy bitchiness prevented them from helping out a Darfur benefit. [Complete with great headline: "Socialites' Snit Scars Benefit."] Not content to have one lady comment that these 'tards would cause the recently-deceased Brooke Astor to roll over in her grave, Page Six is totally gonna make us think your boyfriend's a homo. Good job, Palermo.
He does have some massive gayface going on in this picture, from her "fansite."
Fansite that she obviously runs herself. A quick glance at some previous Gawker stories reveals that she's like this insane pit of need for attention and self-promotion.
Hmm, reminds me of another "fauxcialite."
Now's probably the place where I should mention Darfur and genocide and caring, but Slate tells me that genocide is so over.
[No, really, they had an article on how we're pretty much immune to the word now.]
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