I sent my mom the link to this Gawker story today. Clearly I'm the conspiracy theorist in the family.
mom: the dead monster? It looks like a cat who lost it's fur moi: that's not a cat, look at the front paw or claw or whatever it is. def looks deformed. CREEPY. look at the freakish face/beak! mom: it probably is the result of research testing...nice that it's in the water... moi: i know, wouldn't you burn it? unless it escaped. I wonder how big it is. they really should have put a dollar bill next to it mom: it must have escaped...it really is sickening...almost makes you want to join PETA moi: i have to stop looking at it, can't wait for Dateline to get to the bottom of this mom: yes...thanks for sending me an indelible image moi: kisses! mom: later
Mom Chat Part Deux:
Kroach received the following email from her mummy today. Such intense laughter ensued that we were both weeping by the end. Bravo Eda.
I have the loan of a bberry for my trip to Germany. I think I can remember how to answer it if it rings but e-maik might be betterm
Soon to be baby mama Stef (she's due in Jan) and I were on set at the Stanford Linear Accelerator Monday for Beau Roulette's September fashion spread. Apart from providing my witty repartee for the crew, I slapped together a makeshift Kraft service table and proceeded to attack the fruit and cheese platters with heated passion (I hadn't eaten all day). After hoovering half the table and verifying the radiation levels weren't high enough to give Stef's fetus a third eye or renegade arm popping out of it's head, we drove down to the testing sectors.
The makeup artist, a tiny little modest thing, mosied up to me as we were setting up the first shot:
her: "so how far along are you?" dumfounded pause... moi: "I'm not pregnant, Stef is."
Cue her jaw hitting the floor as I let out a huge laugh and reassured her that it's fine, I've been called worse things before. I suppose my large bosom paired with an empire waist top that could be misconstrued as stylish maternity wear might have thrown her off. OR that she caught me stuffing my face moments earlier. OR the fact that she overheard Stef and I discussing what you're not allowed to eat while preggers. OR because Stef looks better knocked up than I ever will sans zygote...but still, I have no baby bump, and if you're unsure about a woman's "condition," best to keep you mouth shut.
A few hours later Stef and I needed a pick me up and dove head first into a large bag of Smart Puffs.
Stef: "mmmm. my baby really likes these smart puffs." moi: "yeah, my baby does too."
Being the only one in the office with a bike this morning, and with the Art dept in dire need of getting prints to our parent office for the big meeting asap, Knudsen was dispatched to fly like the wind.
Knudsen: "this isn't the first time I've had to do shit like this at work." me: "play bike messenger?" Knudsen: "yeah, and I'm white lightening."
Every trip to the cabin requires a visit to the Harlem Valley Psychiatric Hospital, an abandoned insane asylum where the main roads are still used by the town's residents, allowing up close and personal access of this uber creepy facility. Being juvenile assholes most of the time, the girls and I would immerse ourselves in the overgrown fright and try and scare the bejesus out of each other. It wasn't hard. I remember our first jaunt like it was yesterday...
I like to snooze. Sometimes this harps on my makeup time, so I decided to forget it all together today. I guess I should never leave the house au natural again...
S: Caitlin, you look HUNG-over. me: really? cause I'm not. (awkward laughter)
20 min later
nicholas: if yer lucky I'll tell you you look hungover tomorrow me: i can't hear that enough. nicholas: must feel great me: i'm hoping she'll tell me i'm fat and that no man will ever love me later... nicholas: careful what you wish for, I tell kerry that kinda stuff all the time. maybe I'll wait till yer bday. me: you know just what to get a girl nicholas: right after i jump outta the cake me: this is gonna be the best birthday ever
Jenny's family has a preciously awesome cabin about an hour upstate from NYC, which (gasp) they're selling soon and it's breaking all our hearts. Over the years, whenever we were feeling particularly understimulated, the quickest solution (apart from crank calling the RamVan office to proclaim we'd lost something on one of the vans. "What did you lose?" the dispatcher would ask, to which we'd respond through choked back laughter "our virginity," proving we have the maturity level of 13 year-old boys...) was to pack an overnight bag, hit up the local liquor/grocery stores and greet the wooded air and forest creatures (Gary the bear says "heeeeey!") with our wicked dance parties and shenanigans (often videotaped for future embarrassment).
Fearing my recent visit may be one of the last times we could all get up there together (save for Carina who unforch, had to deal with grown up woes that weekend), Jamie, Jenny and I piled into our kick ass mini van and migrated North.
J. Shields, Esq. celebrated her big day with a quintuple attack on the senses: Fontana's, Max Fish (where we met quite possibly THE biggest douchebag walking the planet...big surprise, right?), Darkroom, Lit (it's like a shady ex-boyfriend you can never say no to), and of course: San Loco.
my first trip east in 2 yrs and I reverted back to a wide-eyed tourist, forcing Jenny take my pic in Times Square over and over until the angle was correct. Why? with a background like that, if you don't know the answer, then I don't want to know you.
I know you were super-psyched to see me, dude. I would be to. I am, after all, me. But we need to have a quick chat. I know you're Italian, you've got a lot of love to give (Llamas included), and I know we go way, way back. I mean, I think you farted the first day I met you. However, when embracing one of your oldest girl pals whom you haven't seen for two years, tongue is not required when giving her a peck on the lips. It just becomes confusing and awkward...and wet.
Lindsey and I attended the Academy of Art Grad Fashion Show Friday night with special guests James Galanos and Ralph Rucci. I must admit, I felt very VIP after my +1's seat was labeled as "Guest of Caitlin Donovan, 7X7 Magazine" and I ran into Chantal, our May cover girl, who got all excited...to see MOI!
nothing grates on the nerves faster during a lame monday morning in the office quite like bob marley at a high volume. at least for nicholas.
me : isn't this your song? nicholas: in seven grade nicholas: th me: did you pass seven grade? nicholas: get off my back, sister. nicholas: you can turn raygay up as much as you want, but its still gonna sound like garbage. wanna go back to my dorm room and smoke a bowl at lunch? me: Do I !!!!
My hi-lo doll diva, Lindsey, hosted Nirvino.com's South African wine tasting at her sweet pad in the mish. I remember a LOT of wine, shoving prosciutto in my mouth for a good portion of the evening aaaaaaaaaaaaaand that's about it.
had I not been so consumed with making sure my glass was never empty, I probably would have snapped more pics.
I'm no longer the only one who thinks Spencer has become more entertaining now that he's living w/the sis and on camera for a max of 6 1/2 min per episode.
7X7 hosted a green event for Earth Day last night (granted it was a day late) at Spring on Polk Street, and I helped out in setting up/executing the shindig. Sadly, it wasn't until an hour into the party that I realized my fly was down, and the end of the evening that I noticed I had something black in my teeth from one of the many delicious hors d'oeuvres.
Thanks, Mr.Hipster Record Store Clerk. Date: 2008-02-26, 5:25PM PST
Dear Hipster Record Store Clerk,
Thank you for judging me on the CD I bought yesterday. Our passive-aggressive altercation made me realize how conformist I am for buying an old Rage Against The Machine album. Your condescension was just the intellectual wake-up call I needed.
I discovered a new me yesterday, and my eyes were opened in a new way. Thanks to you, I realize now that the key to enlightenment is reading Pitchfork, watching High Fidelity, listening to Velvet Underground, having a tattoo of a star on the inside of my wrist, growing an ironic mustache, living in the Mission, and wearing a too-small sweater, multi-colored 70’s ski-vest, chunky plastic-frame glasses, a high school sports T-shirt, air-tight black jeans, and Nixon-era Chuck Taylors.
I had it all wrong, man. You showed me that a skilled job and a comfortable living is just a lie. I need to go to art school, have my parents pay my rent, join a Joy Division-influenced band, and wait for a record deal, like you. I’m totally missing out in life.
So thanks again for mocking me. I mean, at first I thought you were just a pathetic, frustrated musician trying to feel better about yourself. But now I see you’re an uncompromising visionary.
No one will ever understand you. You’re so different.
two pals commiserate on having their wisdom teeth extracted:
mike: hey did u ask ur dentist what the deal is with drinking alcohol? moi: uh no i just took the liberty to start on my own. did you get vicodin? mike: nice, indeed i did moi: i took a vicodin before bed after about 3 beers, it just makes you really sleepy. so if you're going out, i'd hold off on taking the pill. mike: ok i have a work function, sons of ireland thingy on thursday, so i will take it easy on the pills til i get back moi: yes, i mean people pop pills all the time (not that i'm endorsing it) but if your mouth is really hurting when you get home, you can take one. mike: i will moi: think of all the upper east side housewives, they drink and pop all the time mike: i will save some for them. they put u out? moi: they did, i was actually a little nervous cause i'd never been put under. i asked if i could keep the teeth and they said 1) they saw them in half so it's not like a full tooth and 2) it's considered a bio-hazard in sf. who'd a thunk it? mike: i didn't think of asking to keep em. yeah i had never been put out before either, weird feeling.one minute he gives me the iv and shot, asks me how i am doing, if the iv shot hurt and i was like no i am a pro, and next u know i wake up and he's sewing in the stitches and buttoning up my pants. moi: why were your pants undone? mike: he said thats part of the procedure...
A leisurely afternoon IM chat with the maternal unit:
mom: hi moi: how's it going? mom: ok...they just cleaned my teeth today...didn't say anything about the bridges thank God, because I don't have the money for it now moi: ugh moi: well i'm only getting $500 back in taxes moi: i got $1000 last year moi: and totes thought i'd get at least $1500 moi: oh how wrong i was mom: the cats are fighting...Oprah just lays on her back and swats and Mai Tai does all the attacking mom: whats totes? moi: "totally" moi: sorry moi: i'm used to IM shorthand mom: I thought you met somebody new! moi: ha
If you're looking for a hangover cure/some of the best Mexican food in San Francisco (or possibly even the West Coast), look no further than La Taqueria in the Mission. Whitney and I each got a burrito (her steak, me chicken with the works), chips with guac and salsa, and an ice cold Modelo Especial to wash it all down. I'm pretty sure I saw God about half way through my meal.
By far, BY FAR, the best NoisePop show this week was She & Him, the charming duo of M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel, at Great American Music Hall.
the best bits:
-the way he stayed back for most of the set to give her the spotlight. -her lyrics are as lovely and quirky as she is. Case in point: "why do you edit? give me credit, I'm just sitting on a shelf." -the encore of "I Put a Spell on You," complete with M. Ward looping his final guitar riff so the audience had something to remember them by after they left the stage.
The Walkmen played the Independent Thursday night for NoisePop. I still can't decide what I liked better: the set, or Hamilton Leithauser's nautical/Bob Goulet themed attire. Bravo gents, bravo.
I'm by no means a club kid, but I couldn't turn free tix down to one of the hottest NoisePop shows this year. Whitney hooked Lisa and I up for MSTRKRFT at Mighty, and despite one of the nastiest female bartenders I've ever encountered, a super shady dude in the corner, and some chick who screamed "I'M NOT A FUCKING GUARD RAIL" at me after I tripped on a step (that I cannot for the life of me think why someone would put in the middle of the dance floor) and without thinking, reached out for her arm to catch myself from falling, it was a pretty "dope" show.
We celebrated Iris' last day at Hartle with liters of lager, foreign cuss words, and potato pancakes at Schroeder's, the oldest and largest German restaurant on the West Coast.
Wir habe eine grosse Zeit.
Nicholas was convinced that by the end of the night, K. Roach and I would be the two drunken fools in this painting. When I asked who was who? He replied "Kathryn is def the one flipping off the cop."
I have no qualms about being a labeled a +1, especially when it's to the super swanky private opening of Le Club. A throwback to the posh "reservation only" lounges/speakeasies where you have to know a guy who knows a guy and hope that guy knows the password, it was quite impressive. Besides rubbing shoulders and snickering with a pal that I was in the same room as Dede Wilsey and Danielle Steele, about half way through the party I was tapped on the shoulder by a gentleman who politely asked to squeeze by me. Before I knew it, Stephen Jenkins hopped behind the bar and became the go-to mixologist for the crowd.
He kindly asked if he could get me anything, and who am I to turn the man down? I told him to knock himself out and he took it upon himself to make me a "Vesper," the vodka cocktail concocted in Casino Royale. Three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel.
