Have You Read This Book?

I finished The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo when I woke up this morning. This comes after reading the book til 4 am (which isn't that exciting, actually, I stay up til 4 every night).

It was dark and intriguing. Somber but not without humor. Detailed with minutiae at times yet quickly paced.

I've never read a book about another 5 ft tall black haired girl with a dragon tattoo on her left shoulder. Though I'm not as tough or interesting or Swedish as Lisbeth, there were other similarities in our histories that at times made my eyes widen at the wonder of it all.

However, this book isn't just for short people with a fondness for ink and revenge (I did read some deliciously violent passages twice, I admit). The story seamlessly flows between the dynastic history of the very strange Vanger family and modern corporate corruption in Sweden. I've mentioned my aversion to spoilers so I'll say nothing more about the plot.

Author Stieg Larsson passed away before this book -- part one of The Millennium Series -- was ever published. It will be a sad day in October when I've read the last page of The Girl Who Kicked The Hornets' Nest, the final book. In the meantime, I anxiously await the arrival of The Girl Who Played With Fire.

In other news, I'm going on a news boycott this week. Ironic since Wednesday's column is all about the 24 hour news channels. (Yes, I just used the word "news" three times in one sentence.) You can find me at Qdoba reading Anne Perry's Cain His Brother. I'm still gobsmacked by the fact that Perry is actually Juliet Hulme. Kate Winslet's portrayal of her in Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures fascinates me to this day.

Things I've Done This Week

I went to see Ponyo. Not my favorite Hayao Miyazaki film but his retelling of The Little Mermaid is fairly delightful even though I think Sosuke's mother would have been reported to child services at some point for all that reckless driving... and leaving a five year old alone in the middle of a typhoon.




I also saw District 9. I'm sort of maniacal about spoilers so I didn't know much about it and suspected it might be some sort of Cloverfield-esque piece of poo. Oh how wrong I was. Strangely, I think I liked D9 more than anyone else I know that's seen it. The joy of reduced expectations, I suspect. The film also made me cry more than once. I'm really just... getting to the point of head asplode over how we treat each other and even though it was just a movie, I sat there thinking, "Well, of course this is what would happen."




I finished reading Phillipa Gregory's The Other Boleyn Girl. It was a bit of a chore getting to the finish of a 600+ page book when I knew how it ended, but the detail of life in Tudor England was beautifully done. I mentioned in another post what a jerk Henry VIII was. I sort of reveled in his piggish decline as the book wound down and his madness escalated. Next on the reading list: getting back to Anne Perry's William Monk series and checking out Stieg Larsson's The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo which comes highly recommended by a trusted friend.




Let's see, what else? I got called one of "Obama's Youth" and a communist in one sentence by someone I know and like. He wondered if I was reporting dissidents to the Kremlin (White House) over health care reform. So that was fun.




And finally, I watched both the Project Runway All Star Challenge and the premiere of season 6 last night. The All Star Challenge was a bit disappointing. I wanted Sweet P to win and couldn't believe they chose Daniel Vosovic for two reasons: that athletic shirt/bubble skirt combo seemed ridiculous and his restaurant dress with the vertical black tubing across the midriff looked like he was going for some sort of suicide bomber chic. Still, Daniel was the least annoying of the bunch and I was reminded how much I do not miss Korto, Jeffrey and, of course, Santino, who was so awful Tim Gunn said he contemplated cyanide.

As for season 6, there are so many contestants it's hard to tell where the show's headed. Already we have this season's Ricky Lizalde in the form of Johnny Sakalis, the ex-addict who spent much of the episode in tears. I think the irony is lost on no one that Ari Fish got the auf wiedersehen as she's a dead ringer for guest judge Lindsay Lohan's on again/off again girlfriend Samantha Ronson. I mean, they auf'ed her in favor of a dude who sent his model down the runway in a beige chiffon tent. A look deemed "unwearable" by the judges. La Lohan made for an opinionated judge. I guess designing leggings has really made her an expert in sartorial critique. My favorite looks of the night came from gender bending Malvin Vien and Kohl's designer Ra'mon-Lawrence Coleman. Why the judges loved this thing, I have no idea. Then again, Tom kind of liked it, too, so maybe it's just me.

Ok... that's it for this week in the life of LP. I read this morning that Trinny & Susannah have a new show on TLC that starts tonight. Oh yes, I am very pleased about this.

Is there anything I'm missing out on? Book, film and TV suggestions are always appreciated. Oh, I also watched Mad Men for the first time ever, but since the theme song was my favorite part of the show I figured it's best not to discuss and irritate all my MM loving friends.

Prescription For A Panic Attack

Yes, this might seem like a joke, but I'm being super serious, of course.

I used to suffer from debilitating panic attacks. For a week in 2000 I didn't sleep. I would stay up all night watching Elmo's Adventures in Grouchland, and in particular this scene. I know it sounds totally crazytown (and it probably was), but nothing helped like hearing, "Take the first step and then you will see just how brave your heart can be."

It's pretty embarrassing, this story, but I'm a blogger, right? I'm supposed to have no shame.

I spent the weekend with two relatives who are pretty far right on the political spectrum. I always hear you're not supposed to talk politics with family, but what can I say? I'm a fool. I don't purport to know everything about Obama's health care plan (believe me, I'm trying to understand it, but the President isn't helping in this endeavor). That said, I'm pretty sure he's not going to euthanize our loved ones once they turn 65. At times these discussions turned ugly and I felt like I was having a town hall meeting in my kitchen. All of this has left me feeling sad and not very optimistic about the fate of health care reform, something we desperately need.

The big picture, for me, is that we need to take care of each other. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, deserves good health, happiness, and love. These things seem to be in short supply these days, and I feel those panic attacks creeping back into my life. I hear a lot of fear and anger from one side, and I don't hear clear answers coming from the other.

I want us to remember that we're reasonable people at heart. That we're good people. That we have minds of our own. I hope something happens to turn the tide of vitriol to measured discussion and real solutions. Without that I really am worried about what's going to happen next. These are hard times, but working together is the answer, right? Otherwise we'll just split farther and farther apart until we're fractured beyond repair which will be very grim indeed.

Rediscovering Old Loves - Driver 8

It's like "Two for Tuesday" around here... only it's not Tuesday... err, anyway.

You might wonder how I decide what songs to feature, and let me tell you it's a very complex scientific process that consists of me futzing around on Facebook and/or Twitter while listening to the musics. Occasionally I'm struck by something resembling inspiration and I type out a few sentences, gushing like a burst dam, and then I slink away quietly, returning to my time wasting efforts.

I decided earlier today to write about "Driver 8" by R.E.M. but who knew I would find such an excellent YouTube version to post. I don't know who those two girls are but they are AWESOME SAUCE! I totally want to go back to the 80s and hang out with them.

It took me a while to warm to the siren call of Michael Stipe because in the mid 80s if you weren't English, sullen, pale and dreamy I really had no use for you. Australian bands could fake their way into my heart, but if you were from Athens, GA, bah! Away with you at once. I don't follow R.E.M. much anymore, but you can't deny they've written some of the most memorable songs and goodness, they do kick ass live (even if you're standing amongst hundreds of thousands of drunk Scandinavians, all the way in the back, they'll reach you).

So... enjoy this long play of the vid on this hot summer day. I just bought Wii Resort so I'm going to go make a fool of myself in the living room.

I don't know if anyone actually reads this stuff but if you do, what are some of your favorite songs to rediscover?

Rediscovering Old Loves - Cannonball

I didn't know this video was an early Spike Jonze offering until, oh, two minutes ago (unless Wikipedia is lying, which is always possible).

The year is 1993 and I'm still not cool, but I can pretend while driving my mint green Mazda 626 through the darkened streets of Austin. I once read an article about The Breeders that mentioned how Kim Deal dyed her hair with black shoe polish and I just thought, "Well... I am never going to be that punk rock. Better just give up now, then." And so I did and got married and divorced, moved to LA and now I live in Crestwood and dye my hair with Clairol Natural Instincts Midnight.

That story really went somewhere, didn't it?!

The NYC Prep Finale - It Ain't Over til the Fat Lady Sings... Or In This Case a Skinny Teenager Named Kelli

It's finally here, ladies and gentlemen. The season finale to the best show ever to grace TV, NYC Prep. The drama is realer than real, the hair flips have taken on mythic proportions, the forged relationships not faked at all.

Last week Taylor and PC started hanging out, there was some Cole craziness and PC said mean things and wore eyeliner and the producers walked away happy that even though the lines they'd given this merry band of teens were delivered in stilted fits and stops, suckers like me were still queueing up to watch the magic happen!

Already the newly formed friendship between the prince of the Upper East Side and his little misfit, the West Side social climber of Stuyvesant High, is on the rocks. PC returns to his BFF Jessie who invites him to a fashion shoot for her upcoming Operation Smile soiree. Jessie's modeling for a promotional piece for the OS benefit gift bag. PC undermines her as she strikes a pose with a male model. Zzzz... PC is a brat, we get it. What I don't get it is why she has twigs sticking out of her head and crazily tragic eye makeup.

Sebastian, who looks like a member of Menudo more than anything else, sweeps his hair to the side and tells Kelli about his plans to build wells in Africa... or something like that. He's having a benefit and wants K to sing... or something like that. I don't think anyone ever really comprehends what Sebastian is saying. I think he's supposed to be too cute to understand, maybe. Of course Seb only cares about poor people because chicks dig it. I always say that I don't care why well known people get involved in charity because if it benefits even one person, it's worthwhile. However, this is really pushing it. Kelli performs, and well... let's just say she sings better than I do.

PC has a dinner party to celebrate graduation, but Jessie shows up and acts like Bitchy McBitcherson. She and Kat stage a little snapping girlfight that ends with Jessie stomping off but not before we get an eyeful of her mesh bustier and hideous tube skirt. I'm pretty sure she can afford a better outfit than that. The next day she and PC have a candid heart to heart and I want to care about what they're saying but Jessie's early 80s black eyeliner is too distracting.

It's funny... it's easy to hate Jessie. It's obvious. She's snotty and pretentious and shrill. However, the real villain is Camille. The Tracy Flick in training future Harvard student (or so she hopes) loves to deliver insults with a smile so sweet you think maybe she's being nice, but no... she hasn't quite developed the skills to fully mask the glee she feels when delivering verbal blows. Watch out for this future barracuda. It's hard to witness the two of them fighting to be crowned Queen of Mean. Life is so much more than social posturing, girls!!

Oooh, it's the moment we've all been waiting for! Jessie's Operation Smile fashion show has been a running story throughout the season. She heads up one of the committees and were it not for Bravo I doubt she'd be standing there posing with Ted Gibson and Carmen Marc Valvo. Camille's worked herself up into a real snit over being excluded by J and takes her complaints to the Director of Development and Development Manager of the organization. She rats Jessie out and it's classless and crazy and for our benefit only. PC apologizes to CMV for bringing too many people to his after party. This is ridic. Seriously? Carmen Marc Valvo cares what's going on with his spoiled high school intern and her silly best friend?

So... it should be awesome when Jessie stumbles down the stairs and everyone laughs, but it's not. Nothing about NYC Prep is amusing anymore. I never thought I'd miss Gossip Girl so much! Watching these kids play dress up and run towards adulthood while spewing self-involved platitudes like Sebastian's, "This year's been a lot about quantity. Next year I'm gonna try for quantity. Just settle down. A smaller number of girls but like really really hot ones." Actually, that's kind of funny.

However, they're killing me with the faux sentimentality as the cast reflects on their time on the show and plans for the future as if anyone really cares. I wish them well on their journeys... and hope I never see them again.

Bananas

I was going to blog about the Teen choice Awards but between Miley Cyrus dressing like a hooker and Anna Paquin getting nominated for Best Actress for True Blood, a decidedly not tween friendly show, I find myself feeling old and disgusted.

Something else that's crushing my soul? The craziness that's ensuing over health care reform. Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin are really blowing my mind with the Nazi name calling and "death panels." The rhetoric on both sides has been at a frenzied level for several years and what good comes of it? It's hard not to get caught up in the anger and anger can be productive but fear is not. Fear and ennui are eroding our spirits and I wish more than anything that I had the solution, but I don't.

The only thing I can offer to lift us up today is the Monkey theme. I hope it will suffice. (Monkey theme comes courtesy of Beaucoupkevin).

Oh God, I just saw a commercial for the Octomom special on Fox. I'm going to go cry now.

They Think He's a Righteous Dude - John Hughes Remembered

I try not to shed tears over celebrity passings because let's face it, I don't know these people. I feel sort of strange about the whole thing. I didn't know John Hughes, of course, but his movies reflected so clearly the best parts (and worst) about being a teenager. All the hope and drama and narcissism glimpsed through a tender eye.

I feel an acute sense of sadness over the death of the man who made the anguish a little better because somewhere at the end of the road we might find our Jake Ryan standing by a red Porsche saying, "Yeah, you." Or maybe even Blaine opining, "I always believed in you. I just didn't believe in me." We could be Andie, independent and strong willed, or Watts, adorable and cool as hell. For a teenage girl, every dream could come true via Mr. Hughes. We didn't have to be simpering and helpless or the homecoming queen to get the guy.

I've been reminiscing a lot about the teen years lately and what Robert Smith (and say, Jim Morrison) were to me in music, John Hughes was to me in film. There's a huge sense of something lost here, but it's great to know that some of the best parts of him are a room away on DVD.

I couldn't tell a better tale about John Huges than Alison Byrne Fields who was pen pals with him for two years during the 80s. It's an amazing read with great insight into a man who, for all his heart, was a bit elusive.

Fellow Velocity blogger Erin Keane did a nice post about him, as well.

If Only My Morning Jacket Really Looked Like This

I laughed. Out loud and everything.

I know this is a cheap post but I'll try to come back later with something mildly interesting.

A Post Wherein I Do A Lot of Rambling and Some Copious Name Dropping

Okay, I'm running on three hours of sleep today. By the time I reached slumberland Morning Joe was already on. I've decided to start staying up all night because frankly, I never get anything done during the day. I'm too busy looking at Google Reader, Facebook and Twitter. Occasionally I stare off into space. I am so 21st century pathetic.

Today is the day my very first Velocity column appears in the paper along with, apparently, an even more giant version of my head. I just got through telling someone I think there are maybe five pictures of myself that exist in the world that I don't hate. She asked why I don't use one of those and my reply was, "Because they were all probably taken when I was three." Anyway, you can read it here if you are so inclined.

Today is also the day that my post about Johnny Cash's 1994 keynote goes up on the SXSW blog. I've embedded the clip here. Towards the end you can see yours truly standing next to the man in black and it was just magically random that I was there and he decided he wanted some ladies standing next to him for the photo op.

I try not to, but I often take for granted the life I've led so far. It never seems that interesting to me that I've met most of my musical heroes, traveled the world as a tour manager, or booked The Viper Room even though all I wanted when I was a kid was to be part of the music industry. However, as I spend summer nights thinking back on my life, trying to recall experiences for book fodder, I'm finally starting to go, well, holy cow, I dropped out of high school (twice), lived at a night club, moved to Austin with $20 when I was 18 because my father kicked me out, started volunteering at SXSW and the rest is a crazy history full of stranger than fiction tales.

So now it's fun to remember the time Keith Clark from The Circle Jerks taught me how to play pool after two skinhead chicks tried to beat me up before their show (they called me a fish faced gook and told me to go home, nevermind that technically I was home). He even re-gifted me with a necklace that a fan had given him. I still have it somewhere. Several years later he became an accountant that several of my friends used.

I can't believe I had dinner with John Paul Jones from Led Zeppelin when I was in London and he and his wife drove my friend April and me to our bus stop. I was so jet lagged my face was practically in my food... a poor showing, to be sure. Somewhere I have a 3-D picture of us that someone took at SXSW the night Bettie Serveert's tour manager decided he didn't like the towels I'd given him.

And finally, for today, I guess I'll go with the story of spending week after week with the men of the Neurotic Outsiders. Yes, every Monday for a month I had John Taylor of Duran Duran, Matt Sorum and Duff McKagan of Guns n Roses, and Steve Jones from the Sex Pistols crowding into my office, hanging out and generally being very nice boys. I think Duff was my favorite. I also got to know Ian Astbury a bit during this time as he and Billy Duffy sat in on a couple shows. How many hours did I spend obsessing over Duran Duran when I was 13? Too many. How many times did I listen to Appetite for Destruction while watching the sun come up over downtown Dallas? Countless. Even reading this paragraph it feels like some science fiction far removed from my current life as a housewife in rural Kentucky.

The funny thing is, these stories sound kind of cool to me, and the last thing I've ever been, let me assure you, is cool. Like right now I'm listening to Donna Summer and wearing really ugly sandals. Yes, it's true. Also, if I'm retelling stories here, I apologize. I just found out I've posted the "New Moon on Monday" video twice. Apparently I'm getting senile which is also... not cool. And I need a nap!

A Witch Hunt For Another Girl

The Cure - New Music - More Music Videos

If you read Velocity, you'll find out tomorrow that I planned to spend this summer writing a YA novel. Now the summer's half gone and all I've managed to do is move two miles down the road and stare at my monitor a lot while listening to "Sweet Home Alabama" (yes, that's what's playing right now, I am a hick).

I have been doing loads of research, though, or so I call it when I feel guilty for sitting around reading Evermore or watching Make It Or Break It.

However, most of my days are spent across the pond in merry old England as I'm in the midst of making my way through The Other Boleyn Birl and catching up on Skins as I eagerly await the season three premiere on Thursday. I'm also watching The Tudors at bedtime and come to think of it, that might explain why I'm having such weird dreams lately.

Life in the UK sure has changed in 500 years. England in the 1500s seems like no place to be. Even if you're a courtier, life pretty much sucks and there's always someone scheming to take your place. Henry VIII is kind of a jerk, too, always sleeping around and ordering beheadings and hangings. I bet he'd be wearing Ed Hardy if he was alive today. I find it interesting that all the political tension and violence centers around religion, something true since the dawn of time, I suppose, and obviously true today. Makes you wonder if we'll ever all just get along.

Modern day Bristol, where Skins is set, is no picnic, either, come to think of it. If one thing hasn't changed, it's that where there's youth, there's drama. I'm going to miss Tony, Sid, Maxxie and Anwar as we head into a new series of the show with all new characters, save Effy. I'm sure the new lot have just as much trouble, angst, sex and sadness headed our way. I think Skins is one of the best shows to depict the realities of being a teen and of course it's all set to fab music.

I know my teen years seem a lot better in retrospect when replayed against a backdrop of The Cure, Bauhaus, et al. I can remember them as somehow rosy when I know they were really just a series of embarrassing events that included lots of boy rejection, watching kids blow pot smoke in a guinea pig's face, buying beer and driving my friend's mother's car when I was 15, sitting in the middle of the street drunk while Liz and Clint made out in the bushes, and so on and so forth. There were good times, though: running through the park at night, driving through downtown Dallas hopped up on speed listening to Guns n Roses, walking in on the panther backstage at the Motley Crue concert (my friend Steph was engaged to their pyro dude), the first time I heard Robert Smith's voice, putting baby powder on my face and laughing with my friend Amy about how we'd always want to look as pale and wan as possible.

Maybe someday I will capture these moments in words that make up a story that someone can read but in the meantime I'll just say goodbye on a night like this...

From Evil To Genius - Times Like These

So maybe I'm feeling a little nasty for discussing the Evil Beaver in my last post (though it's more of a "think piece", right, whatever that means) and perhaps it's time to start cleansing the old soul with this clip of Glen Campbell performing The Foo Fighters' "Times Like These." We toured with The FF's in 2003 and this song was always the highlight for me.

I really enjoy the classic country boys doing modern hits. Like The Oak Ridge Boys turning "Seven Nation Army" into a tasty vocal treat or Johnny Cash crooning "I hurt myself today..." I hear nothing but the sweetness when these melodies come around.

Okay, that's all for today. I swears.

But You Know Evil Is An Exact Science

When Chuck Klosterman's article on archenemies vs nemeses first came out, a friend and I tried to figure out where his at the time rival landed on this scale. Thinking back, I think nemesis is the correct answer.

Yesterday, I tweeted about how my nemesis was finally out of my life, but then I got to thinking... maybe she was really my archenemy. After re-reading Klosterman's theory, I've concluded yes, definitely archenemy.

I'm not sure how it came to be that this person, Evil as we nicknamed her, ended up claiming the top prize in the wasting my time with anger sweepstakes. I remember when I realized that she was a superficial self-involved wench (well, I sort of do... it was at the David Grey show... or The Afghan Whigs... either way it was at The Palace in LA). I remember when she called me up to emphatically state that she and a male friend of mine were "TOGETHER"... like... get it... stay away... She went on to work with other pals and proceeded to take credit for their ideas on a regular basis.

I'll confess that jealousy is involved, as is the case with any arch enemy (or nemesis). She could be charming and she was certainly never short on suitors or lingerie masquerading as clothing.

I thought I'd left her behind for the most part when I left The Viper Room but no, there she was at all the My Morning Jacket shows. She finally ended up working for a company indirectly related to the band so once again she was all up in my psyche... lurking away. However, now I hear she's gone. I was relieved to hear this, I admit, and with that relief comes a sense of wishing her well in the world. A hope that she's grown up a bit as I hope I have.

So, that is the tale of me and my archenemy. There are other thorns in my side, to be sure... but none, for some reason, claimed such a spot in my heart as the scantily clad Evil Beaver.

In honor of the archenemy vs nemesis debate, I'm including Shriekback's video for their song "Nemesis." An old fave, to be sure... we are no monsters... we're moral people.

The Quick Brown Fox Jumps Over The Lazy Dog

I'm in the middle of conjuring up a post about arch enemies, So You Think You Can Dance and other random bits and pieces when I happened upon this (via my husband's boyfriend who cooked us a really excellent dinner last night so thanks for that, Shane).

I totally lol'ed, yes it's true.

Song For A Day - 66

Yesterday I wrote about my 1988 with The Church's Starfish. Today it's my 1999 with The Afghan Whigs'1965. We're making some heavy withdrawals at the nostalgia bank this week, I tell you.

And ohhh, the magical powers of Greg Dulli, a man whose magnetic stage presence defies the fact that he's actually a bit scary up close and in person. Before I ever saw the band the only thing I knew about them was the zine Fat Greg Dulli so I never dreamed this guy would be someone women threw their underthings at. Then my pal George took me to a show at The Palace in LA and whilst I remained fully clothed, I couldn't deny the appeal.

I'm sure many a girl's lusty fantasies revolved around the smoky, luscious, makes me feel joyful gathering of songs that is 1965. For die hard Afghan Whigs fans, as I understand it, this is the record where they started to share the suck but I find no fault. It was my first, it was my only.

"66" is the track that sent my soul into happy shivers (though I listen to "The Slide Song" more often these days). I hope you enjoy this here video of The Twilight Singers (Dulli's band with Mark Lanegan) performing it with Whigs' bassist John Curley. He even throws in a pocketful of trojans...

There's an Afghan Whigs tribute album out now. You can download My Jerusalem's festive version for free here.

Rediscovering Old Loves - Reptile

Okay, I admit my original intent was to do a post on "Hotel Womb" but the only video available wasn't worth spreading around the internets.

As a teenager in good old Plano, Texas and a young adult in good old Austin, I couldn't get enough of the fair prince Marty Willson-Piper and his compatriot, the sultry voiced Steven Kilbey.

The Church were my church and though I freely admit that I worshipped at the altar of Robert Smith, they ran a close second... well they may have competed with Echo & the Bunnymen for second, but let's face it my earnest teen dream heart was large enough to hold them all near and dear.

"Reptile" is an equally grand song from 1988's Starfish, an album I listened to on a virtual loop that first fall I lived in Austin. The ghosts of a thousand fantasies probably still haunt my old duplex on Speedway.

The lads are in their 50s now and still going strong with a near original lineup (only drummer Richard Ploog's not around anymore). I've been to every SXSW since 1989 EXCEPT the one they played. It's just as well... I probably would have missed them, anyway.

NYC Prep - It's Front Row Or Nothing

In case you missed it, because I know you're all watching this show it's really just the best thing ever and I don't know how the Gods of TV will ever surpass this gloriousness, last week teen dream Sebastian and future elephant trainer Taylor broke up and can't even be friends even though they were never really going out and it's all made up anyway.

This week finds Jessie grasping once again for fashion greatness with her new job at Charlotte Ronson. She calls her fellow applicants "pathetic" since they were seven years older than her and had the same amount of experience. I think she got the job because it would expose Charlotte Ronson to a bunch of rich New York teens... and lesser types who can buy her crappy diffusion line at JC Penney. (I had a gander the other day when I was at Mall St. Matthews and it's just as bad as it looked online. There's one wearable piece. The rest looks and feels le cheap. It is on sale these days, though. Oh, funniest part, a sales clerk was showing around a new employee and said, "This is Charlotte Robson. We've had this line for a few months.")

Anyway... for some reason unknown to anyone, PC (or PCP as I like to call Peter Carey Peterson) invites Taylor and a + 1 (she brings her old yet new again flame Cole, the only normal person on this show) to the Jill Stuart show during Fashion Week. PC and Taylor are pretending to find each other fascinating. Geez, what crazy scenario will these producers think of next?!

It's semi-hilarious, mostly cringeworthy, when PC tries to school Taylor on proper celebrity sighting etiquette. They arrive in a flurry of paparazzi to front row seats because, as PC sooo correctly says, "It's front row or nothing." Taylor bags on PC and his pretentious friend Kat for wearing their sunglasses indoors and it's true, they look like jerks even though I think she's wearing those Oliver Peoples sunglasses I totally love but won't buy because they look like crap on me.

Cue Taylor and Cole giving some snappy sartorial commentary along the lines of "I like purple" and "Purple is my school color." Those peasants from the Upper West Side sure are adorable!!

Oh look, here comes Sebastian!! I think he has a speech impediment or something... or he's drunk... because he's slurring his words when he tells us how he's going to try and have a go at Kelli now that Taylor rejected him. I kind of like Kelli as she announces she's not going to be Sebastian's backup. You go girl! People don't say that anymore, do they?

PC is still yammering on about being in the front row as we drift along to the Erin Fetherston show at Bryant Park. (Her diffusion line at Target was way better. I bought the bunny thermals because I luv bunnies.) Seb and Kelli only have fifth row. My God, they so don't rate! Anyway, who wants the dramz that would be a Kelli and PC meet up because we all know they totes hate each other.

My brain is oozing out of my head right now. Seriously. I always hear about how you have to suffer for your art. Now I understand, dear readers!!

PC tries to apologize to Kelli after the show and it's just words words bitching bitching, I sure don't think anyone's really making up here and does it matter because when this show is over these people will care even less about each other than we do.

OMG! Paris Hilton cameo!! We all know by now that she dropped out of the same prep school that PC and Jessie recently graduated from. It's called Dwight and apparently they'll let anyone in.

PC is not in the front row at Pamella Roland and he throws a really unappealing hissy fit, but everything he does is unappealing so this is okay. He is keeping in character. I bet the show runners are super proud of PC. He is their bright shining star as he calls Kat (or at least I think it's Kat, I can't tell without the sunglasses) the c-word and gives Jessie the finger. That's breeding there, boys and girls. That is the grandson of a billionaire.

We're 26 minutes in before we get our first glimpse of Camille. Who cares.

Now Jessie's working for Carmen Marc Valvo?!! How can this be? I have to admit I really like CMV even though he designs with fur and that makes me want to barf.

Are you still here? If so, thanks, because I barely am.

PC brings an entourage to the CMV after party. Jessie gets mad and tries to act like she's angry because it's tacky to bring uninvited guests to a soiree and she's worried about PC hanging out with dudes in their 20s when really she's worried that PC is actually gay and therefore not in love with her as she is in love with him. It's Shakespearean, this tragedy, and they whack us over the head with the PC On Fire theme every week to the point where now I'm actually beginning to think he's hetero.

I have started way too many sentences in this re-cap/liveblog/disaster with the letters PC.

I think they just showed Camille at some spa. Who cares.

Sebastian continues to be drunk or have marbles in his mouth or something. He's on a date with some girl who has perfect eyebrows. More words and most are unintelligible. They even give you subtitles but it still doesn't make any sense.

Taylor wanted to hug Paris Hilton when she saw her. Taylor the future philosopher just fell quite a bit in my estimation but she's 15 so whatevs. Actually, that makes it worse.

More Jessie ragging on PC with the "I love you please pay attention to me" subtext still going strong.

And mercifully it's over. Just like this post.

Bad News Monday

Bob Geldof doesn't like Mondays. Who does...

Here's a few bits and pieces that came across my desk today.

Jim Bunning not running for re-election. Possibly the Democrats only hope in winning that seat is now gone. On the flip side, the good news... no more Jim Bunning.

The NFL Commissioner has conditionally reinstated Michael Vick. He could be playing in the regular season as early as October. On the flip side, the good news... I bet there are a lot of dog lovers in the NFL.

And finally, Merce Cunningham passed away. RIP to a true dance visionary. I wonder if they'll acknowledge this on So You Think You Can Dance this week. On the flip side, the good news... I bet they're learning new movement in heaven (even if I don't believe in heaven).

I've included this Comic-Con trailer for True Blood because why the heck not. That show is juicy, no pun intended.

My goal this week... to return to regularly scheduled programming and by that I mean blog more than once in a blue moon, you knew just what I was there for.

NYC Prep Doesn't Exactly Prep You For Reality TV

Okay, I haven't been feeling well lately (always some excuse, right?) so what did I do this weekend? Caught up on the first three episodes of Bravo's new "reality" offering NYC Prep. It's no secret that I love me some Gossip Girl so even though I didn't want to watch this somewhat odious yet undeniably grossly fun exploration into the lives of rich teens in New York, I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF!

The show has a sunny cast of characters, a veritable who's who in the New York teen social scene...not really.

There's dreamy Sebastian, the 16 year old lothario of East Hampton who has a wingman with whom he sends signals to by flipping his ridiculous 70s hair. He speaks French poorly and hooks up with lots of girls (between two and 16 a month!) even though he chews gum with his mouth open.

Kelli, also 16, lives in Manhattan with her 18 year old brother and no parental supervision. Oh wait, her mother and father come in from the Hamptons one night a week, which proves they really care. She wants to be a singer. She lurvs Sebastian, but he only has eyes for...

Taylor, the 15 year old pride of the Upper West Side. And she goes to... stage whisper... public school. Of course, they only mention briefly that she goes to a public school that's nicer than many privates and is one of the best in the city. Stuyvesant is a magnet that you have to test into so even though she plays the role of the dumb brunette (hrm), she actually has a brain in there despite the fact that every other sentence she utters includes the word "social status." In fact, she's a bit wily as she seems to be playing everyone including...

Camille, 17, the mini-Blair Waldorf -- down to the hairband -- who attends Nightingale-Bamford and desperately desperately wants to go to Harvard (though she's written since this proclamation that what she really meant was "the idea of Harvard").

It's all over the internets that none of these kids actually go to top tier prep schools because surely no Brearley or Spence girls would be caught dead flaunting their wealth and looking like bitches on a gauche TV show. However, we're supposed to believe with all our little hearts that these cardboard cutouts are a fine representation of what real upper echelon city kids are like. But wait... isn't that what Gossip Girl is for?

Lest you think we're stuck in bourgeoisie hell, we do have a billionaire's grandson in the form of... PC (pictured), 18, the Dwight graduate and possibly gay offspring of Blackstone Senior Chairman Peter Peterson (seriously). In fact, PC is also named Peter Peterson. Peter Carey Peterson. I think he should be called PCP, don't you? All of PC's scenes seem to be propelling us to the foregone conclusion that he likes boys and not his best friend...

Jessie. Oh Jessie. Also a recent Dwight graduate, Jessie is the future Alexis Carrington Colby of the group (although future Real Housewife of NYC is more like it). She's ambitious, snooty and mean. I so want to hate her, but these shortcomings are so obviously a desperate attempt to mask her other shortcomings... and that is putting it politely. Jessie loves PC but alas, I think those feelings need to sink with the sun never to see the light of day again because it's just not gonna happen.

Having said this, they will probably end up unhappily married spending days where he throws water bottles at her (or expensive vodka once he's of age, haha, like these kids care about the drinking age!), and she slaps him across the face. Both of these situations have occurred on the show. PC also told a girl he was going to break his beer bottle on her head if she didn't leave him alone when they were in Mexico. Such a charmer!! He's no Chuck Bass, that's for sure.

It's painful at times how obviously set up the scenes are and seeing the kids play dress up at fancy dinner parties and clubs in their mini-adult frocks and dinner jackets is pretty cringeworthy for the most part. They often sneak glances at the cameras and seem to stumble on lines.

However, I don't just watch this show for the schadenfreude... New Yorker Big Word Alert!... I watch it to hear great lines like this one in re Jessie's charity work that Camille is trying to glom onto so she can go to Harvard: "In the Operation Smile world, Jessie is the queen bee."

Omigod. Like, that is SO TRUE!!

Oh wait, there was also the time where Sebastian told Kelli, "That's what like the movies are for. The Jewish people." Why are movies for the Jewish people, you ask? Because they need something to do on Christmas, of course!!!!

Cameo of tonight's ep: Taylor Momsen... looking confused... as to why someone was filming her.

Thank God the season finale is next week.

(photo at Bravotv.com)

Songs I Somehow Never Heard - Lloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken

I can't believe I've let so many days pass since my last post. The excuse of moving/unpacking/shutting the door in the face of Jehovah's Witnesses (or Mormons, whatever) wearing "Jesus Christ" nametags is wearing thin.

So... I'm lying in bed at 10.23 am on this fine Tuesday watching (this is so embarrassing) Over Her Dead Body. My excuse this time is that I'm not feeling well and obviously I'm not in my right mind willingly watching something with both Lake Bell AND Eva Longoria Parker (although I do watch Desperate Housewives and have since Day 1, and oh let's face it underneath my dark cloud I am unbearably girly).

Err... so... I'm lying in bed at 10.23 am on this fine Tuesday watching the end credits of Over Her Dead Body (did you know Paul Rudd is in that movie? He's adorable!) and this Oh My Goodness I'm in a Time Machine kind of song comes on so I look it up and it's not really from the early 90s but a 2006 offering from Glaswegians Camera Obscura, who have been around since 1996, but apparently I live in a musical cave. That was a long sentence that I'm not entirely sure was grammatically correct.

"Lloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken" is a response to the Lloyd Cole and the Commotions song "Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken." Do you remember that Lloyd Cole video where he had the rose tattoo on his palm? I still think about that every now and then.

"Llloyd I'm Ready To Be Heartbroken" reminds me of The Sundays, of getting ready to go out and meet cute boys, of those rare moments of appreciating youth while still being young.

And with a sigh I change the channel...