Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Jan Von Holleben Does Beautiful Work
Saturday, February 23, 2008
I Choo-Choo-Choose You
When I read this story, I cannot help but think that Nick, 15 must be the real-life Ralph Wiggum.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Because I Needed One More Way to Connect With Reality TV Stars
Um, this was announced today. Where are the other three horsemen of the apocalypse?
I also found this, which is great because it contains what may be my new favorite quote of all time:
"'We’re financing [the album] ourselves on a shoestring budget,' Pratt tells People. 'It’s so organic. And this is just the warm-up. We’re just heating up the water in the bathtub. It’s gonna get hot!'”
I wish that this quote had continued because I'm pretty sure it would say something like, "And then it might burn you because it's so friggin hot. I mean...I mean...this is crazy hot like a forest fire or some shit. No, it's hot like a volfuckingcano...or the sun...whoa, bro, get this...are you ready?...this shit is hot like a volcano that shoots pieces of the sun...yeah, that's right [insert knowing nod here]. Spencey P. just blew your mind."
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Someone Please Buy Me This:
action figure of the Prince of Peace riding a bull (of sin?). In fact, I'd be happy with anything from here.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Project Badass Part IV: Party Like a Rockstar (Or How I Met Slash)
As a woman who spends the vast majority of her time sitting around in her underwear, reading geek books and wishing that she owned one of these*, I don't do a lot of shoulder-rubbing with the party elite. One of the major goals of Project Badass is to break out of my comfort zone, so I thought that maybe learning to mingle might come in handy.
The Sundance Film Festival was my opportunity to party my face right off. I'm not sure how much of the trip I'm allowed to divulge, but I will say this - my nephew is a ticket broker who happened to do the right deal for the right people and that's how four kids from Virginia found themselves trading movie tickets for access to celebrity VIP parties. After a day of shooting a non-Lego version of this, my crew headed to Park City where we attended the Sundance opening party. While the opening party to one of the most prestigious film festivals in the world sounds like a sexy, sexy affair, it's not unless you're a lady who loves nothing more in this world than to eat. In that case, it's a totally bitchin affair because they had . Rooms...plural. I've never been to heaven, but I imagine it too has cupcakes as far as the eye can see.
For the next three nights, we attended various parties at a very exclusive club packed with people who looked like this:
They were sincerely the most beautiful and most angry-looking people I've ever seen. Nothing - not oversized aviators indoors at night, not dresses that towed the fine line between party girl and prostitute, not a smattering of celebrities that filled the place - made anyone at any of these parties crack a smile even for a second. In fact all of those things seemed to make them even more serious. I tried to capture the elusive serious, sexy dance faces in action; however, I decided that pictures would be overkill when I saw a man pull out a camera and then get immediately tossed out of the club by his hair. You can trust me though, it was full-on, professional dance faces everywhere, the likes of which can only be rivaled by these guys.
In situations like that, where you just know from the bottom of your heart that both you and your Juniors-section H&M circa 2004 clothing will never ever fit in, I think the best way to handle things is to rock ever harder than you would otherwise. We made up our minds to talk to as many people as we possibly could and sometime during a VIP 50 Cent concert when I found myself saying "Yeah, I'm pretty into robots myself" to one of the world's leading young jazz musicians, I knew that it had paid off. What I did not know was that said jazz musician would be endeared enough by my smooth robot talk to invite my nephew, his girlfriend, and I to a 50 Cent afterparty where I sipped cocktails laced with 50 Cent flavored vitamin water and discussed whether a pterodactyl or Robocop would win in a fight with the guitarist for Ghostface Killah. As sad/telling as it is, the main thing I was enamored with at that party was the fact that there was a private chef cooking personalized breakfasts at 2AM complete with...wait for it...
Two. As in, party attendants had more than one type of bacon to choose from. Despite the fact that there were numerous musicians, fashion designers, rap artists, and professional socialites at that party, the highlight of the evening (for me) was spending a solid 30 minutes discussing meat smoking techniques with the chef. That and when some dude came up to me on the makeshift dance floor and said "you got some Black in those hips girl." That was a highlight too.
When we left the 50 Cent bacon party at 5:30AM (and after I fell over in the snow from exhaustion/elation/intoxication), I was convinced that I had had my rockstar experience. I could come home, write an inexcusably belated post about it, and then officially cross that one off of Project Badass. Mission accomplished. But Sundance was not through with us and neither were the people who needed my nephew's precious excess movie tickets. After a good amount of wheeling and dealing the next day, the four of us found ourselves gladly handing over all of our movie tickets in exchange for access to an exclusive Velvet Revolver concert hosted by Paris Hilton where I definitely stood next to Josh Harnett while some dude from Collective Soul purchased blueberry vodka-themed drinks for me?!?!?!?! It was amazing. I am pretty sure that my face never once changed from this expression all night:
After the show, I received a text message that simply said "Come to this address, say 'the chimp' at the door." When I showed up, I said the code word, slipped passed the line, and saw my nephew on one side of a very tiny cocktail party and this guy on the other:
With eyes as big as saucers, my nephew whispered, "Is this rockstar enough for you?"
And I was too star struck to say "Yeah, I think this will suffice."
* Seriously, how sweet are those?
Labels: Project Badass