When last night’s episode of Gossip Girl opened with a spoofy Eliza Doolittle dream sequence, I wanted to throw up in my mouth. However, what unraveled over the next 42 minutes (not including commercial breaks) was one of the juiciest, drama-filled, completely-untrue-to-high-school-life episodes of the season.

I freaking loved it.

All of our favorite Upper East Siders are getting ready for college. Which makes me think: my alcoholism peaked in college in a Keystone-Dubra-Keg Party blur. These “high schoolers” drink martinis for breakfast. What will happen to them after graduation?

So, obviously the GG writers have to come up with an elaborate scheme to get everyone to Yale for College Admissions Day. What better way to do so than by having Blair slam Serena, and Serena fight back by flaunting her hot Blake Lively self for the Dean of Admissions? You know something’s gonna go down when the kids’ Headmaster advises them to “present yourselves in the best possible light.” Yeah, right.

To put it in a nutshell: Chuck wants to join a secret society. Nate’s dad has a bad rap at Yale, so Nate pretends to be none other than Dan Humphrey in order to shack up with a collegiate hottie (Ladies– would you EVER shack up with a high school boy on a school tour? To answer my own question, I guess I’ve never seen a minor who looks like Chace Crawford…). Oh, and did I mention that Yale has decided to change it’s “stuffy” image, hence the interest in Socialite Serena? More on what I DID NOT find believable later.

In typical Chuck Bass fashion, blindfolded, non-English-speaking prostitutes show up in threes to *cough* impress the members of the secret society Chuckie so desperately wants to join, but what these guys really want is a piece of Nate Archibald. Hmmm. So Chuck sets up poor Lonely Boy to get beaten and tied, half-naked, to a gazebo. (Editor’s Note: Is tying a skinny kid in his boxers to a statue really the best a secret society can do?) Where was this when I was scoping out potential unis? Read More »

Fact: I love famous men. Love them. No matter what movie or TV show I’m watching or what gossip magazine I’m reading, I can always pick out at least one person that I would totally ride the Sexy Train to Dirtytown with. (Example? The other day I was chatting with my lady friend about the do-ability of Jerry Seinfeld. No joke.)

But despite all their fame and money and ready access to plastic surgery, there are some celebrities that are too terrifying even for a fame skank like myself to consider acceptable. Here’s a rundown of the top five male celebs I’d rather saw my leg off than get nekkid with. Read More »

Big things coming out of The CW today - you know, that station that Gossip Girl is on? Yeah, that one. Word on the street is the brilliant minds (and stylists) behind everyone’s favorite East Coast O.C. - Gossip Girl, duh - could be working on a spin-off for one Ms. Jenny Humphrey.

Oooooo.

I don’t really read trashy novels (in public), so I don’t know much about the GG book series, but apparently there was a spin-off series of books called, It Girl, in which J Humph. left New York City and headed to boarding school. People are saying that this book spin-off could become a TV show spin-off (how creative!) sometime next season. Read More »

So a guy friend is hosting a barbecue this weekend on the terrace of his apartment building. In Manhattan. It’s not quite the same for me as a traditional backyard gathering, but these are the things we sacrifice to live in the city.

At least there will still be some classics in the way of burgers, hot dogs, and chicken. But the rule of being a dinner party or barbecue guest is you can’t show up empty handed. While ordinarily I prefer to contribute something of the beverage variety, or pre-washed-and-cut fruit from the nearest grocery store, I’ve decided it’s time to man up and cook something. I don’t want to be shown up by a bunch of boys, even though without question they can cook better than me.

Barbecue essentials that the boys will be providing consist of meat. I don’t cook meat, so I’m opting to make cole slaw.

You need:
1 small bag pre-chopped cabbage/cole slaw mix
Sprinkling of celery seed for garnish/flavor
Red grapes (as many/few as you like) Read More »

Basically, I’m hungry and fatigued. And I want to eat bread.

I wake up and I eat matzoh.

Then I go about my daily day (see?! I can’t even think of a better way to say this!) and find something I can eat for lunch (surprisingly difficult even in lower manhattan).

Then I’m cranky at people until dinner, at which point I am tired of trying to think of what to eat and end up having a fudgesicle.

Actually, I think I might be losing weight, but only because eating has become so calculated and joyless that it’s not even worth it.

I mean, this is not a big deal. I can’t have bread. To channel my grandmother for a moment, this should be the worst thing that happens to me. Read More »

When I read Sloane Crosley’s bio and saw that she listed, “…the cover story for the worst-selling issue of Maxim in that magazine’s history” among her accomplishments, I knew her literary voice was the type that I would enjoy.

Crosley was a writer living in Manhattan, publishing stories in magazines from Playboy to The New York Times until she decided to start writing essays after getting locked out of two separate apartments, in one day.

The collection of essays make for a great read because they’re almost like “speed dating” (to quote Ms. Crosley herself). Her voice, as well as her stories, are witty, honest, irreverent and entertaining.

Take this for example: in one of her essays Sloane reveals a collection of plastic ponies she had accumulated from boyfriends over the years which she kept “semi-secretly” in a kitchen drawer, imagining what it would be like if she died one day and people found them in her apartment…

Pick up the book, I’m telling you — you’ll totally enjoy it.

OR, Participate in her Pony Project on Flickr.

Have your own drawer full of plastic ponies or other “nostalgic” mementos of love gone awry / other hilarious disappointments and minor humiliations? Share your traumatic trinkets with us.

I spend a lot of time telling myself to relax.

Relax, I tell myself. It’s okay that you didn’t have time to straighten your bangs this morning–no one is looking at you. It’s okay that you just said something really stupid to a tourist on the subway–no one is noticing you. No one else really knows you exist. RELAX.

Unfortunately, my seemingly-insane paranoia was validated yesterday.

My boyfriend and I went into a diner that I haven’t been to for about three years. And this is Manhattan, right, so there have been millions of patrons since the last time I’ve been there. And I was never a regular customer or anything like that.

So yesterday I’m in this diner and the waiter brings me my cup of tea and he says, didn’t you used to wear glasses? i remember you–you came in here a few years ago.

And I almost peed myself. Read More »

American Idol makes me feel like vomiting.

There, I said it.

How much longer can this go on? I won’t deny that we have found some incredibly talented singers from this show: Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, Chris Daughtry, Fantasia Burrino….Clay Aiken?

But, with that said, there are about 5 MILLION incredible artists playing in bars, clubs, coffee houses, etc. within a block of my apartment. Los Angeles, Manhattan, Austin, and po’ dunk towns with karaoke are cranking out talent as you read this.

It isn’t that the people on the show aren’t talented, it’s that the whole formula is absurd, obvious, limiting and now, boring.

There is ONE SLOT for each sterotype: Read More »