Floral nail in the coffin
The latest issue of Grazia has an article about how to crimp your hair. Honest to god. Magazines that I used to buy for a mindless guilty pleasure have already weirded me out for the past year because all of the fashion sections are pretty much lifted from Seventeen circa 1990, the first year I was allowed to subscribe (that troublesome Sex & Your Body column; my mother would have preferred I had neither): skintight minidresses, denim on denim, floral leggings. This one actually features Zubaz, but calls them “traveller trousers.” The Blossom hat and Clinique “Brick” lipstick can’t be far behind. I feel like my mom must have felt when I’d come out of the dressing room at Express age 14 (already won a battle just to get her in there; the loud French pop music gave her a headache) and she’d make a face and say, “Yick, I didn’t like it the first time around, in the ‘70s.” And I’d get so mad. Now I just think about my eye creams (I own three).
London Cringe next Monday night, April 26
Cringe is next Monday! Are you going? I’m going.
Monday, April 26, 7:30 pm
Upstairs at The George Pub
213 The Strand, London WC2R 1AP
Still looking for a few more readers, so email if you’re interested. If you’d just like to come along for a laugh, just turn up!
If you’re on Facebook and would like to join the Cringe group, please knock yourself out. It’s full of attractive people with cool names, and only messages you about upcoming Cringe events, never about farm chores or wanting money.
More cool Cringe news coming for early May, so watch this space.
Text messages saved in my phone, vol. 10
(Vol. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9)
Oh like I don’t already own adult diapers.
Tori Spelling was there. She looked like Manimal.
HOW POTATO GET ARRAGNED
I just poured tortilla chips into a bowl of salsa and I’m eating it with a spoon. How’s your day been?
Remind me to tell you my idea for Ann Taylor Loft
Curvature of the spine, darling!
I will tell him you are rough and tough and well-trained in the art of emoticon snowmen
I am sitting in a McDonalds and the sun came out from behind a cloud at the same exact moment INXS’s “Disappear” came on.
Igneous I hope!
Deal. When do we meet the guys who deserve us again?
It’s coming up. I can feel it.
Betty just gave me a shoe full of condoms as a belated Christmas present.
Make it clear to him that WE DO NOT NOODLE
It’s preferable you were skort-clad; in jungian symbolism, the skort signifies eternal devotion
FYI you’re not in the Duane Reade on Flatbush. If you were you would’ve loved it when I jumped out from around the aisle and screamed your name. Your doppelganger was not as pleased.
My new boss is 19, and the son of my supervisor’s golf buddy. Yaaaaay.
I got booed at on the sidewalk by a group of drunk police officers. I hate St. Patrick’s Day.
You didn’t elope did you?
You mean Greg Evigan.
I just had a kiosk worker at the mall try and use the pitch, “Excuse me sir, have you heard of the Dead Sea?”
So it looks like there’s a 7:20 showing of Bride Wars at Court Street if you guys need something to do. (I never explain these, but this is extra funny because Eden sent it about an hour after Nick landed in New York for the first time.)
Is it weird that I kind of like being dilated?
I would have to dress in drag so I wouldn’t get stuck doing the lady chores. I’m all about muskets.
Apparently “bitty” is a word. And dad thinks a cupcake outfit is “cute.”
The night has just begun and I’m already mixing white wine with PBR. It’s called a God Bless America. I will regret this.
You need to manage your expectations.
All the undergrads who wore bandanas around their necks last year are now wearing them on their heads. I like fashion that’s just about moving things around.
Man, I wish there was a modern day Silent Lucidity.
I Am TAKING IT O666nThd run RIGHT N6669ow
Your mom’s the one who married a sailor!
Maddox is 7 today. Happy meals for everyone and a filet-o-fish for Pax.
All of brooklyn misses you.
Just don’t get pulled into a Black Snake Moan situation.
Busey’s balls are gorgeous.
We drank Russian Princesses all night and talked of housebarons.
Man oh man. One week ago Sarah had no idea.
Oh by the way, I’m just covering my bases, but please don’t mention to my mom that I texted you after ten.
You can’t tame these horses with no ring
P.S. Are you sick of my texts yet.
I love this year.
Cringe at The Big Chill
So this is really exciting, and I’ve been waiting to post it for awhile now: Cringe will be at The Big Chill Festival this August!
Check out that
lineup! That’s pretty mind-boggling company for your teenage diary, eh? This is so awesome.
Get your tickets now, and if you already know you’re going to be at The Big Chill and would like to read your teenage diary to a field or tent full of happy people, please contact me. We’re putting together some good stuff and there’s lots more to come, but I just had to share.
Nick spent Friday night putting on a huge warehouse party with several of his friends. I was coming off a three-day migraine, so I missed it. I awoke from eight hours of sleep on Saturday morning around ten, the same time Nick got home and came into our bedroom to say hello.
“I’m going to get my tea and come to bed. Do you want anything from downstairs?” he asked.
“Maybe some orange juice,” I said. “Ooh, and a pecan twist from the bread box?”
“Wait,” he said. “I need to write this down.”
“Write what down? It’s just orange juice.”
“Hold on,” he said, scribbling. “Hold on hold on hold on.”
“You don’t have to get me orange juice. I can get it.”
He returned twenty minutes later.
“I thought you’d forgotten,” I said.
“I did,” he answered. “I was sitting on the couch, but then I dropped my note on the floor and remembered.”