Last night’s GG episode was pretty freaking juicy. Within the first 30-seconds, we knew what party (the Senior Snowball) would be the scene of all of the cut-throat drama, and the snowball just kept rolling from there.Here’s the rundown (of the first 5 minutes):

Blair doesn’t know who to bring the Snowball, Serena meets Aaron’s ex-slash-Dan’s-instant-Snowball-date (who wants to bang Dan… go figure), and Vanessa is acting shady… could it be because after stealing Nate’s letter to Jenny, she’s been creeping with Sexkitten Archibald? After that spiel to Jenny about friendship coming first? Oh, snap. You know Gossip Girl is going to spill that news. Read More »

I have a confession. When Joey Potter chose Pacey Witter over Dawson Leary, I was pissed. I mean, the show was “Dawson’s Creek,” not “Pacey’s Creek.”

That said, Gossip Girl seems to be taking a similar turn this season, as the supporting characters are totally stealing the spotlight. How ironic, considering that last night’s episode was all about Blair’s insecurity and the dark shadow that Serena casts on her. Let’s just get right down to business and discuss.

This week’s GG lesson? Your whole life is fulfilled when your photo appears in US Weekly, apparently. And if you aren’t photographed by the paparazzi at the age of sixteen, apparently all of your conniving plans to take charge of your mom’s fashion show and upstage your (former) bff will blow up in your face and bring great success to everyone else. Read More »

This weekend is the only thing that stands between me and Chace Crawford.

Of course, I’m talking about the season premiere of Gossip Girl, which airs Monday, September 1 at 8:00 on the CW Network.

Since my life pretty much sucks– I’m not currently sleeping with anyone, I’m spending my “new clothes” money on speeding tickets, and I can barely afford my daily latte, let alone an extra-dry martini or a burlesque business venture–I’m looking forward on living vicariously through Dan, Jenny, Serena, Blair, Chuck, and, oh yes- Nate.

When GG left us at the beginning of the summer (which feels like eons ago), Serena’s brother, Eric, had just come out of the closet; Georgina had stopped into town just long enough to break up Serena and Dan; Chuck briefly scraped together an ounce of morale, only to eye-f*ck Amelia, Lily’s new interior designer; Blair hopped a plane with some random dude; and it seems that Serena and Nate and Dan and Vanessa were left to hang out for the summer. Read More »

A couple of weeks ago, when my cell phone (endearingly named Dino, since it was probably manufactured during the Jurassic Period) finally went kaput, I sprang for one of those nifty phones with the keyboard - for optimal texting, as the salesperson put it. Since I’d been growing increasingly fond of texting, I figured the keyboard feature would make sending out messages more convenient. But little did I know that I was about to go from casual messenger to a total texting addict.

Yes, I admit it. I really, really like to text. I do it all the time: under the table at restaurants, during the previews of movies. Sometimes I even stop in transit to send out a text (I don’t have the hand-eye coordination to walk and text at the same time. Not yet, at least). While I try not to be rude with my texting, I can’t help but love this new development in communication.

But before you condemn me to the ring of hell reserved for the intellectually degenerating and socially awkward teenage population, hear me out. As an aspiring writer and self-proclaimed grammar Nazi, there are some lines I refuse to cross when it comes to texting. I never use abbreviations, except for the occasional “lol.” With my old phone, that made writing out one text an all-day affair, but with my handy keyboard, it’s a snap. And that annoying, pointless one-word text that makes you want to reach into your phone and punch the person who sent it? I won’t send it. Ever. I get way too many of them as it is; I won’t subject any of my friends to that type of agony.

My reason for texting is restricted to simple convenience. Read More »

So there have been some pictures released of Jake Gyllenhaal on the set of his new movie, Prince of Persia.

Alright, I’m not gonna be the dude who writes about Jake G. on the website for women and hates on him. I think Gyllenhaal is a great actor. He throws down pretty hard regardless of part, whether it’s a marine or a gay cowboy or a teen who keeps seeing a rabbit.

I also won’t be the guy who says ‘yeah he looks good, but I mean, I’ve seen better.’ As a heterosexual man, I feel fine saying Jake looks godd*mn HUGE in these new pictures. Respect for putting on that weight and not being afraid to lose all that ’sweet little boy look’ money.

But, I gotta say something.

This movie is called Prince of Persia.

OF.

PERSIA.

Attention, Hollywood. Ethnicity is not a tan. Even in the game, designed by a western production house, the Prince has a Eurasian vibe going. This isn’t Gyllenhaal’s fault of course, just the casting director’s. Though I can’t help but think that someone as successful as him, who isn’t necessarily desperate for greenbacks or notoriety, could’ve maybe at least considered that this might be a mistake. Read More »

Ever heard of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight books? What about the Clique or Gossip Girl series? Or how about Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian?

Well, I have a little confession to make. I’ve read them, and I love them. And maybe you have, too.

I do have an excuse for having my nose stuck in YA novels half the time—I absolutely love children’s and YA literature, and it’s my ambition to become an editor and writer of children’s books. Even if I didn’t have that going for me, though, I think I would still love teen books.

They’re irresistible, you know? When you’re 16, it’s so great to read a book that lets you know that you’re not alone in being a drinker/a geek/the biggest loser in school/the most popular person in school/pregnant/generally weird/awkward. There are teen books for everybody.

And the best part is, once you’ve passed 18, you can read those books and think to yourself, “I am so glad I’m not in high school anymore.”

It’s tough to write a teen book, and it’s even tougher to write a teen book that’s successful. Sherman Alexie won the National Book Award in the young people’s literature category this year for his Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, but just check out this link to read about all the flack he got from adult authors for writing a teen book. Read More »

I went from cracking jokes about Jessica Simpson’s ProActiv ads to wanting to be in my own acne treatment ad basically overnight. I never had acne problems as a teen. Even buying something as simple as face wash seemed like a foreign concept to me-after all, I had perfect skin. Of course I’d have the occasional tragic zit that would drive me up the wall — but that was as far as my derma-traumas were concerned.

Until I switched my birth control.

Once I switched my birth control my hormones went completely out of whack. A few months ago, after the switch, I started breaking out ALL OF THE TIME. I felt uncomfortable going outside without makeup on. As a singer, I didn’t want to be on stage. As a model on the side, I stopped showing up to interviews. I felt gross and about as far from pretty as a girl can possibly feel without having to be a D list Hollywood drunken starlet.

I wasn’t about to give in to a bleak marriage with acne. My skin’s future needed to be free and happy, not tied down to bullsh*t anxiety.

I finally got to that breaking point where I caved and decided I would try ProActiv-or something like it. Something like it is what I went with when I saw Acne Free at the drug store. It was right there in front of me and for much less than what I hear ProActive goes for (it was $20 for the package). I rationalized with myself for a while before the purchase.

“Elizabeth…you spent $20 at a bar on drinks in an hour. You can chance it for better skin…”

And so I did. Read More »

The biggest secret I ever discovered was sex. I was twelve years old when I started to wise up to my body changing, and fourteen when I first properly thought about the s-word.

Growing up, my knowledge on the classroom-rumoured Facts Of Life were always rather naïve; my Barbie and Ken dolls sometimes tried giving it a shot, but I could never stretch my imagination beyond yanking the trousers down/skirt up and wearing a puzzled expression as I placed one on top of the other and wondered if they were really enjoying themselves as much as the people on my mum and dad’s fifteen-rated (that’s R-rated in America) movies seemed to be.

It was only when my hormones began pumping that I finally began noticing boys in my school – one in particular – and let my mind drift off into the dangerous territory of wandering hands and possible intimacy. As it turned out, my first boyfriend was not the high school crush I had harboured for so long. However, it was new, it was exciting, and most importantly it was….actually quite a good-looking piece of apparatus. If this was The Thing that I was constantly told by parents, teachers and school nurses to stay away from, I’m afraid to say I was hooked. Read More »