Brace yourself—I'm taking most of next week off to pursue other projects. Namely, I'm going to try my hand at model-feeding. I'll be the fairy godmother of Bryant Park, doling out iceberg lettuce and cigarettes to those in need. The prospect of charity work is so exciting, isn't it?!
Friday:
· If you're hip enough to be tapped into the British electronica scene then you'll probably be at this show: Wheels Instead of Hooves take over the tables at Rothko with guests Jega, Datach'i, and Shadetek tonight at Rothko. If you're not that hip, you probably think we just made up a bunch of words. [Wheels Instead of Hooves]
· Former Times film geek Elvis Mitchell interviews current film geek David Thompson about his new book, The Whole Equation: A History of Hollywood at the Upper West Side Barnes and Noble tonight. [Paper]
Saturday:
· MIA, the hottest rapper to come out of Sri Lanka since...we have no clue, really, but she performs with cohort Diplo tonight at the Knitting Factory. [KF]
· We don't understand a goddamned word of this, but maybe you do: "Cornell University mathematicians David Henderson and Daina Taimina talk about their recent discovery of how to crochet models of 'hyperbolic space,' which ended an almost two-hundred year search for actual surfaces that exhibited hyperbolic geometry." Well isn't that something. They do the talking at The Kitchen, smartypants. [Kitchen]
Sunday:
· Superbowl Sunday: the one day of the year you drink domestic beer and think nothing of it!
As if Manhattan weren't homo enough as is, we're pretty sure the out-of-state Gays are going to invade our island in droves—and not just because they want to catch Chelsea's last gasps. A New York state court has ruled (for now, anyhow) that same-sex couples must be allowed to marry, which practically ensures that every lezzie-come-lately West of the Hudson will be bouncing into town for a quicky marriage. Book your theater tickets now, 'cause every Broadway show is going to be sold out for ages.
Sightings are sent in by readers; send yours to tips@gawker.com.
Yesterday's LAT visited Studio City's Archstone apartments, where pre-fame actors flock to overpay for luxury-lite amenities and to feed off the crackling energy of communal desperation. (On cold days, we hear you you can actually see the sparks arcing between waitresses' heads as they pass in the hallways.). Not to be outdone, today's NYT heads beachward, where the industry's mid-six-figure set overpays for ocean views and to feed off the communal energy of desperate Hollywood social-climbing.
So: A little birdie of ours was at trendy downtown restaurant/taxidermist Freeman's last night and had the pleasure of an exchange with owner Taavo Somer. It seems that Somer reluctantly admitted that the Bush twins were indeed denied a seat during their November visit to the restaurant, as Freeman's was full at the time and there was a wait. (The hostess did not, however, tell the twins that the restaurant would be full for "the next four years." That would be part of the, ahem, rumor mill. Heh.) As anyone who's been to Freeman's can attest, the restaurant is always full, so the staff was not trying to humiliate the First Twins. Rather, Freeman's just refused to defer to their presidential presence—which, in our opinion, is still kind of awesome.
It's Friday, so we'll write just about anything, including this: Jamie-Lynn Spears is enlisting the help of Yahweh to make sure she doesn't end up barefoot and betrucker-hatted like her older sister, popite Britney. The "rising young star" spent all of last weekend in a "Disciple Now" bible study, which is a 48-hour retreat for, um, Jesus-y stuff. Jamie's religious devotion is rather understandable; if you were related to Britney Spears, you'd probably spend your weekend praying, too. Juicee News reports that "the youth group treated Jamie just like they did everybody else," but we imagine that sort of treatment will change once Jamie's ovum is inevitably poisoned with Kevin Federline's bastard seed.
Spears' Kid Sister on the Straight and Narrow? [Juicee News Daily]
· Shocking development: people lie at American Idol auditions just to make it on television! Our sense of innocence is crushed. [Defamer]
· An unnamed celebrity needs a personal assistant. If it's Naomi Campbell, we are so buying headgear and applying for the gig. [Glocap]
· Craigslist, where the creepy go to make creepy humor. [CL]
· It wouldn't be Thursday if we didn't mention some sort of anti-semitism debacle at Columbia. [NYP]
· Surreal Life spoiler alert, potentially. [carbongeek]
You really can buy anything on Craiglist:
· Sub Pop-ing slow-core outfit Low and Pedro the Lion take even more dance out of the indie kids tonight at Bowery Ballroom. [Paper]
· Hollertronix bring their so-co krunk to Dubbya-Burg's Triple Crown tonight. You bring your skeet. [Triple Crown]
· Dude, music sounds so much, like, more awesome when you're stoned. No exception tonight at the Kaufman Center, where Philip Glass does his ambient minimilism thang with the Bang on a Can Allstars. [flavorpill]
Earlier today we looked at Maureen Callahan's Post article about important, influential downtown hipsters who get lots of free shit while they spread their nebulous 'influence' hither and yon. (For those who couldn't get enough, we'd also direct you to Robert Lanham's Free Williamsburg piece on basically the same subject from December 2003.)
Dear News Media,
OMG, stop talking to my dad, or I will, like, totally ruin you!
Word has been slowly circulating that Times bespectacled fashion critic Cathy Horyn will be relocating to Paris by spring 2006, but don't assume she's moving purely for the haute couture and Gauloises. The Daily is reporting that while Horyn will remain on staff with the Times, the real reason behind her move is to work on the biography of mildly-cracked designer Karl Lagerfeld. None too coincidentally, Horyn has penned a 6,000-word piece on la Lagerfeld for the paper's February 20th issue of T magazine and her adoration for the incredibly shrinking designer is no secret. The biography, then, is the natural next step. Sounds like a blissful union in fashion publishing heaven, but will she love him once he undoubtedly (and unjustifiably) forces her to go on the Karl Lagerfeld diet?
It was Jean-Paul Sartre who wrote, "Hell is other people." Today, thanks to an LAT profile of the Archstone apartments in Studio City, where the desperately pre-famous temporarily flock while they await their big breaks, we can offer this corollary: "Hell is living in an apartment complex in the Valley with three hundred Olive Garden waitresses, their dreams of sitcom walk-on roles, and their chihuahuas."
Because Mark Darcy is not a real person (do you hear me, ladies? He's a fictional character, okay?), Marie Claire magazine is taking to the streets to find the perfect match for your adorable inner spinster. All smart, successful, handsome, single (and potentially nonexistent) men have the chance to become Marie Claire's "Ben Jones", the real-life counterpart to the single woman's plucky heroine, Bridget Jones.
· It's been far too long since designer Karl Lagerfeld said something crazy, don't you think? The Express of London reports that he's called Nicole Kidman's body bizarre. Which would make your body utterly reprehensible, dear reader, and we don't know how you can leave the house looking like that. [Scoop]
· There's trouble in paradise on the set of Lindsay Lohan's new film Just My Luck, as "people who know" claim the actress is showing up to set late after spending her evenings out at New Orleans college bars. To which we say, like, duh. [Page Six]
· Oh, Simon Cowell, you silly bastard. The American Idol judge was overheard on his cell phone bemoaning the Idol contestants as "Usher wannabes" and claiming Kelly Clarkson was the only one with any real talent. We anticipate the Claymates are mobilizing their effeminate army at this very minute. [Page Six]
· Snoop Dogg will host this weekend's "Snooper Bowl," a charity concert and youth football game. Just because you're balancing nasty gang rape charges doesn't mean you can't do your charity work for children, right? [Lowdown]
· Real estate widow Leona Helmsley reportedly communicates with her dead husband Harry through her pocket-sized Maltese, Trouble. Ah, now it all makes sense! No, wait, it doesn't. [R&M]
