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This war about who invented the Snuggie is way off base. Like most things, the Snuggie started with the gays!! This is the ORIGINAL Snuggie - the International Male catalog has been selling it since at least the early 90s, when I discovered the catalog and how to jerk-off in the same afternoon.
But not to this picture. Shudder.
UPDATE: I've been searching the IM website, which is now folded into Undergear, but it looks like they no longer sell it. Just this gross oversized t-shirt.
Honestly, Rag & Bone? Tourniquets below the knees on the outside of a pair of pants? I'm all for daring and odd fashion but this just seems like a pain in the ass to maintain and really unflattering on most men.That's all.
Oh, except for these stupid purses on top of models' heads. I don't even have the energy to really comment further, except that those poor ladies must have been gagging.
I did however really love the Odyn Vovk show.
It was so beautiful to look at, so why did they have to go and ruin the movie by making Coraline such an insufferable little brat? I would have ignored her too if I was her father. Christ. My friend who I saw it with felt the same way, we just wanted to smack her! I need to discover what the Pink Floyd/Wizard of Oz equivalent to this movie is. So I can own the movie, but just turn the volume all the way down and find the perfect record to play in tandem with it.
Despite my disappointment with the casting and script direction, I'm still mad crushing on sexy animator Brad Schiff. I want to lay perfectly still on a bed with him and have him move me around in the slowest and most imperceptible ways.
Sexy or creepy? Don't care. I've decided that dating a stop-motion animator is probably the best idea in the world, especially for someone like me. Think about it. They have INFINITE PATIENCE! What more can I ask for in a person?
I did anyway. Except that I don't know how to use scissors, I've always used a straight razor. It used to work out great for me in the 90s, but I was scared of how it would come out this time since it's been so long.
I gotta say, not bad. At least in the front and on the sides. I'm still too scared to check out what the back looks like since I didn't use a mirror and I could feel myself going a little ballistic back there. Thank god for my collection of 143 hats, until I actually come into contact with a human being who I know and trust. I've been in lockdown, writing and sending out galleys with notes attached, praying for blurbs. And I gotta say, the ghostwriting is actually coming along well. The big turning point was when I realized I can use his basic life as a framework, and then make up whatever the hell else I want. I've clocked 6,000 words in the last four days, I am just going to bang this fucker out as fast as I can.
I know I should probably be enraged about this remake, but the truth is that I'll see ANY horror movie that comes out, no matter what. So, so much for that protest.
But what's really bumming me out is that they are giving SO much away about this "re-imagining" from the commercials. I can already tell that they have combined key plot points of Parts 1, 2, and 4 from the 40 second commercial. So far we can tell that they're using the origin story from Part 1 (duh), Jason grabbing the boyfriend through the window in Part 2, teens staying in a house near Crystal Lake and the guy looking for his sister who has disappeared in Part 4.
Why give so much away? We also know from the commercial that the black guy gets it. Hmph.
(PS - I have been obsessed with Amy Steel (above) for YEARS. She was always my favorite Friday Final Girl).
Fuck. I was propped up in bed this morning with a cup of coffee, Ollie tucked in beside me, returning emails on my BlackBerry and checking all the news and blogs on my iPod touch and suddenly I had one of those split second moments where you marvel at how far we've come with technology, how much information we have access..to....how we've become obsessed with..info...and how, like, I'm sort of an...INFO FREAKO!!!!
And the song of the same name by Jesus Jones swept through me like rush of pure China White.
But unlike heroin, no amount of naloxone is going to strip my body of this drug.
Just for the hell of it, and to keep me out of trouble:http://gut-pageant.blogspot.com/
I got my galleys in today. I should be thrilled, and most of me is. I know they are uncorrected proofs, but I didn't realize the version they were sending out for reviews was one that had all these bizarre punctuation errors that were input by someone who clearly didn't understand all of the copy edits made on the page by me and the copy editor. There are random commas hopping all over the pages like fleas. I wouldn't care except that the opening paragraph, the very first thing you read, the one that is supposed to draw the reader in, has a weird comma in it that throws the whole thing off.
My agent gave me a stern talking to about developing a thicker skin because if I'm reacting like this now over an uncorrected proof, then I will go totally insane when the book actually comes out and people start slamming it. I'm going to reprint what she wrote because I think it's good advice for any author who has a book coming out:
J,
You have got to calm down. Nobody thinks that this is your fault! All galleys have copy errors. ALL OF THEM. This is the publisher’s responsibility. You have got to relinquish control.
Also, you need to put things in perspective. When this book comes out you are going to be dealing with a windfall of criticism and praise. If you don’t get a handle on it now you are going to lose yourself in the process and become a giant liability to yourself. I recommend to ALL memoir writers that they have a good therapist who they trust and who they can dump this stuff on throughout the process. I know you’re just venting because I love you and I want you to vent to me, but trust me, if this is bothering you now then I promise you that what’s to come will literally drive you insane if you let it. Please don’t let it.
You’re very sensitive and you have to be careful because it can really affect you. Wurtzel is an extreme example, but I think she’s a good example of what can happen when your first book is about yourself. People who read it are going to identify with your story, they’ll see themselves in it and they’ll relate it to their own lives and distort it accordingly. This is a book that is largely going to appeal to drug addicts and the people who love them. That’s a huge swath of the population of Crazy. At first you’ll try to connect with your readers personally, so moved that they took the time to read your book or recommend it to their friends, but soon you’ll realize that not only is that extremely difficult to maintain, but a lot of these people will punish you for it. You’ll receive lots of reviews on Amazon that will make you want to cry – one star reviews with quotes like, “This is the worst book I’ve ever read in my life. I wish I could give it zero stars but stupid Amazon won’t let me.” And you’ll be criticized for not embracing sobriety through 12 Step programs. People will judge the book the way they judge themselves or the addict in their lives who broke their heart. Learning to let these comments roll off your back is as important as not believing the hype such as, “This is the best book ever written! It changed my life.” The latter of course is preferable, but if you let it inflate your ego for more than 5 minutes then your outlook about your future as a writer will be completely distorted. Elizabeth got boxes of mail a week – someone in Italy tattooed her face on his bicep - but she couldn’t maintain an actual relationship in life. And the success of her first book only ensured that she became a drug addict during the writing of her second. So the moral of the story is check yo’self!
God, she's a good agent.
I can't believe this Calvin Klein jeans ad got banned from being shown on television. Not because it's good or artistic and deserves to be viewed by the masses, but because it is SO LAME and SO PREDICTABLY BORING. Not to mention the jeans are clearly custom stitched on.
Honestly, corporate-entity-that-now-owns-Calvin. If you guys really want to shock me into buying your jeans, show me you can make an off-the-rack fit that doesn't give guys weird Ronald McDonald hips and a baggy ass.
This is one of my favorite Clive Barker stories. I think there were several different illustrated versions of it, but this one, by Gabriel Hernandez, is my favorite. The story starts with Harvey Swick being eaten alive by The Great Gray Beast of February.
It's happening to me, too.
One of my old beauty editors gave me this bottle of Chanel no. 5 lotion because I loved the design and the really pale pink color of the lotion. I thought it was an exercise in perfect luxury product production. Last night I was opening a door on the shelf it sat on in my bathroom when the entire structure fell off the wall. I caught the shelf, but the bottle slipped and fell on the ceramic tile and shattered. I'm really bummed -- it's one of those things I'd never go out and buy for myself because it's so totally gay to even own.
But I take great comfort in the fact that even though it slipped to its death, it went down rather beautifully.
