Las Vegas, Las Vegas...you creepy little shit town

I now live in Las Vegas. How does one come to LIVE here? Good question. Long story. But I do. From my balcony I can actually SEE the natural boundaries that keep me in this desert town. Think West Virginia transplanted in the middle of the Mojave, with a 4 mile strech of Disneyland on crack. With hookers. Are there good things about Vegas? Yes. Palm trees are good. Um, shopping is good. Restaurants are good. And there's something to be said about a city that allows you to stroll its streets while hauling a yard full of margarita, complete with carrying strap. The adventure continues...

weehawken/hobococken'

Sigh. I love going to New York. It's so not.....DC. Like a true transplanted hipster for the weekend, I saw the most kick-ass band I have seen in years. Fo' riz. The Hold Steady (Brooklyn-based) gave me a downstairs tingle. They fucking rocked it so hard. I was with the best ever peeps, too. The night before, I got shitfaced at this great, miniscule Italian restaurant with hot waiters. I ended up sitting next to Drea Dematteo. She's little. She had some of our wine. Fuggedaboutit.

Simply fugly

Has anyone noticed how fucking weird looking Nicole Ritchie is? Is she sad that she's constantly introduced as Lionel's daughter? She looks like she's part toad. It makes me sad. Lionel Ritchie bought me a Jack and Coke in L.A. this summer. It was magical.

christmas traditions in my home.

We always seem to have a full-blown family fight right before Christmas Eve dinner, which is always a roast tenderloin. My mom stomps out and walks the dog in her moon boots and my grandmother says "Jesus, Mary and Joseph" alot, and the phone always rings, and everyone gets quiet as to appear to have been enjoying a lovely storytelling by the fire when the phone rang. We all make up and eat and my mom and I drink whiskey and diet ginger ale and my grandmother talks about 'bourbon' and how she doesn't like it. But she'll have one anyway. Then we talk about how perfect the tree is that year, and the dog picks a bone to chew, and we open a gift and talk about the ornaments and how funny it was that I got kicked out of Brownies for the birdseed one. Christmas at my house also consists of lots of greenery in the house- the place is like fucking Sherwood Forest. My mom makes a Strawberry Jello salad thing that rules. We all wake up, eat breakfast and open gifts. I get my mom electronics that she doesn't understand, she gets me electronics that she doesn't understand and we get my grandmother things made of fleece and licorice. I love Christmas, and I love my weird little family.

I'm not sure if I see the light.

The Darkness. Shall we discuss? Now, we all know that Britian is capable of two things, musically. One, they can deliver the best, most intense bands every three years, or so- bands that can WRECK you when you hear them, they're so good. On the flippy, they can shit out some of the worst stuff you've ever heard, giving you that "what the fuck kind of shit am i listenting to?" feeling in your car as you surf the radio. Britian has thrown us a wrench. The Darkness. What IS this band?? They look like the ugly dudes from your high school got together, dressed up like drunk Elvis and the the Village People, and learned Rush, note for note. I can't tell if it's a genious marketing ploy, or total turd. Discuss.

It's cool, man...

Fifty Cent looks like he could spit gravel at you.

sick days.

Sick days are lovely because they allow me to catch up on all of my daytime television and tap back into that silly funny world of popular culture. In addition I am able to spend quality time with my dog. But I digress. Because of my sick day, I found myself dissapointed that I will be on a plane when the Real World Paris finale airs tomorrow, and this scared me. Maybe it's the cold medicine. I also had time to pose the following questions to myself: What is Nelly Furtado's deal? Why do I drink so many Diet Cokes? Is this a bad thing? Am I addicted to makeover shows? Is my neighbor insane...for real? and other various ruminations. Sick days are also nice, because of the endless sleep possibilities.

What happens at Camp, stays at Camp.

I feel l need to discuss Camp Jim. What IS he? The Jim. Is he a lost soul, searching for the youth that he missed while practicing in his mirror to Wham!, or is he a motivational, albeit fucking icky mentor to kids with slightly less esteem than himself? Jim tumbles. And hurkies. And makes fat kids cry. For some reason, I picture him driving a Mitsubishi Eclipse, or perhaps a Cabrio. I also thought of him and Boy George in the same room together, and it's funny. Think about it for a second. See?

I hate when celebrity=suckage

You know what sucks? When you love a celebrity for their uniqueness, for that "hell yeah" that they give you, and then that celebrity gets waaay too much exposure and even THEY seem all weird for a bit about the whole thing, and then, whoops!, before you know it, they suck. They do something totally sucky, like show up on the cover of US Weekly because they went to a tea shop and did pilates.

Jessica Simpleton and Nick LaGay

Thanks to those little fuckers at Chicken of the Sea, poor Jessica Simpson doesn't know if tuna is actually fish or chicken. Don't they know how CONFUSING that can be when you are suffering from a slow silicone leak?

for all the white girls out there

I just got my hair relaxed. Yes, mah sistas. The secret is out. White girls can do it, too. I feel like Gwyneth on Oscar night- the silky smoothness, I tell ya! Now, don't get me wrong. I choke on envy for my ringleted friends, but for those of us who live in that purgatory that is "kinda wavy....but kinda frizzy", the relaxer rules and is much less scary than a perm, because you know that your shit is just gonna be straight. Word.

shhh.

I rented "The Real Cancun".

i'm not sure if i'm 'iCool' enough

i just bought a macintosh. The dude at the apple store looked like jake from sixteen candles. Just for that, i got a superdrive, whatever the fuck that means.

bwak bwak

Carson, the blond stylist/wardrobe dude on 'Queer Eye' looks like Macaulay Culkin mated with a hawk. Quote of the evening?"What does Tina have that I don't have, besides a working vagina?" How can I not watch this? I also loved it when he had to stop himself from gagging when he said that you could give your give-a-ways to, ugh blech,charity. Oh Carson.

Goddamnit, reality tv.

you fuckin' got me. i can't stop watching you. And the worst? The WORST? The ones that make you feel like you could be the best decorator on the f-ing PLANET and you seriously should dig your yard up or rip some walls down and create inviting places to gather. But ohhhh shit. Now you're screwed, because as easy as it looks, it involves a lot more math than you thought.

makes ya go, huh?

28 days later is creepy. Not serial killer creepy, but zombie creepy in a kind of real way. Dig? Me neither. But it's worth checking out. The lead male starts out sort of ugly-British-sexy, a la Liam Gallager and then transforms into a zombie-blood covered Coldplay Chris Martin. The chicks in the movie are...aight. The lead female is very commando chic while she fights the "infected", and she's rockin' some old school Denise Huxtable hair, which rules. The kid is really robotic. she talks like this. (said in robotic voice). i liked it, though. good soundtrack.

i swear he was singing directly to me.

As i'm sure most of you would agree, Lollapaloozas of late (save the first, "good" one in '92) have, how you say, sucked ass? All suckiness shattered yesterday, as Perry et al rolled into the muggy, shitty virginia countryside and proceeded to rock it super hard. For those as fascinated with how short celebrities are when you see them in person, jane's drummer, stephen perkins is full-on teeny. Dude is mini. Coolest parts of the day? Meeting Charlie Tuna from Jurassic 5 and the pre-teen ugly boys from The Music, who completely ruled. The most humbling? When I heard that they were giving away cool trucker hats and sweatsocks at the truth.com truck. When I went over and asked for the hat, the 19-yr-old -semi -socially conscious-but-i'm -only-doing-this-for-my -summer-lobbyist-intership beeyatch asked my age. "Twenty-eight, " I replied. Her answer? "OH, well, you see, we have to reserve our promotional material for those in our target demographic range, which is 14-24." I then told her that it was too bad that she'll never be reeeeally cool until she starts smoking, grabbed some f-ing sweat socks and bounced. Whore.

ahoy, shitty.

remember going to disneyland when you were little and finally being old enough to go through pirates of the caribbean with your cousins and you still freaked out with all the scary skulls and drunken pirates? oooooh! i'm so scared!! Ok, there. I've saved you the nine bucks you would have spent seeing the new Depp flick in the actual theatre. Blew. I even had a decent buzz on, and still fell asleep.

uhh. nah nah nah naaahhhhhh.

fifty. fiddy. birthday. birfday. ok. enough. if you want to listen to some top of the line, A-number one hip hop shit, you want Talib Kweli's "Just to get by". Period.