Poltergeist is a really scary movie.

Napkins.

So yesterday's fashion show was hilariously bad. The clothes catered to upper east side old ladies and there were plenty of them there actually buying the awfullness displayed before us.

One of the old ladies there was the awesomest ever. Her skin was so worn by sun and age that it sort of hung off her bones, she had a bright blue crepe jacket on and a little green hat. Her face was covered in some overpriced make-up and she just stood there in some sort of vicodin induced state of confusion and frustration. There was free wine and hores dervees and she wanted them so badly but she couldn't make due in a world of waiting your turn rather than being waited on. There was a table with a man who was pouring glasses of wine. Rather than stand in front of the table like everyone else and get her glass as it freely flowed, she stood off to the side, behind the man pouring the wine, with her hands out and open at her sides moaning in her barely audible voice which was probably happy to exit the stale caverns of her body, "Where's my wine. What does a woman have to do . . . What does a woman have to do to get some wine. I want my wine." As the man pouring the wine kindly suggested she take a glass from the table. Next, as trays of snacks were brought out and quickly crowded by everyone around, rather than simply taking a snack from the tray, every time the snacks came out, she would stand behind the girl with the tray going "What do I have to do to get food around here? Where's mine? Give me some food." People would move past her and onto other conversations and other treats, and she would just stand there in pissed off oblivion- her mind processing the world around her slower than Anna Nicole Smith. Needless to say, this lady was awesome.


And the show was done by Vanity Fair, and they gave free copies of the new Vanity Fair with the controversial Desperate Housewives cover. Have you seen it? The one with the airbrushed leg of Teri Hatcher and a pissed off (still awesome) Marica Cross on it? The one where they make the talented Felicity Huffman look like a cheap prostitute- a move which makes me question the santity of the art director on this shoot. And I might be in the next issue of Vanity Fair, which is probably the funnest side note to yesterday. The photographer seemed to like me and Shayna. He took like litterally 20 pictures of us. We asked him what his deal was and he said that they would use one of the pictures from the event on their "intelligencer" page next month. And he said he indeed did like us. So maybe we'll be there. That would be neat.


Ended up at Tortilla Flats last night too. I recommend it for the warm weather ambiance. That place is cute and has an amazing Strawberry Margarita- So it's my recommendation for the moment when you say "Damn it's nice out, I'm in the food for a margarita, in NYC, at a cute place, in a great neighborhood."

PS- I am getting desperate here and I am going to say someone's name. To all Roxbury people, for the love of all that is good and holy, if you know Tiffany- yeah the only Tiffany that went to school with us, and you hang out with her, get my f'ing rain jacket back from her. It's been sitting in her apartment for like a year now and I can't seem to get the damn thing back. It's my go-to just-in-case-it-rains/durable-enough-to-end-up-on-a-bar-floor-so-if-it's-cold-and-I'm-going-out-at-night-I-will-wear-this-jacket jacket. I WANT IT!
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From IMDB-
"Author Hunter S. Thompson's ashes will be fired by cannon across his American estate, as requested in his will. The bizarre ceremony will take place in August, after a giant cannon has been built and mounted inside a 54-feet tall sculpture of a 'Gonzo fist' - Thompson's trademark and a nod to the 'gonzo' style of journalism he invented - which itself will stand on a 100-feet high pillar. The event will be part of a ceremony to celebrate the life of the Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas writer, who committed suicide at his secure compound near Aspen, Colorado, in February at the age of 67. His wife Anita says, "It's expensive, but worth every penny. I'd like to have several explosions. He loved explosions."
Dude- Hunter Thompson and I are kindred spirits. When I die, I want explosions too. Please, have an outdoor ceremony, and blow something up. Better yet, melt something cool. Like dolls. Those look so crazy when you melt them. Seriously.

And finally- when did Rob Thomas from Matchbox 20 decide to become Justin Timberlake? I don't care if he "don't want to be lonely no more." That's one whack doubebag-a-morphosis.