If you've ever had the misfortune of using public transportation without your iPod (what, not everyone has a $400 toy?), you know the subway panhandler's routine. But can you make that routine work for you? Yankee Pot Roast offers some tips for effective begging:
You may think Lindsay Lohan is merely a set of breasts with a pre-fabbed album and a tabloid lifestyle, but we'd like to remind you cynics that first and foremost, Lindsay is a thespian. Behind those breasts is an actress — a very fine actress! — and now Manhattanites have a chance to witness Lohan practicing her craft. Her latest film, Just My Luck, is invading the West Village this week, and production locations include:
PRWeek explores the recent rise of the Nouveau Publicist: you know, cheese-distributors like Jonathan Cheban and Lizzie Grubman, who tend to be more visible than the products they're pushing. Determined to add himself to this clique is 5WPR's Ronn [sic] Torossian, a brash newcomer (and email aficionado) who recruits clients any way he can. This includes on the basketball court, where one can see Ronn's true worth:
· Harper's Bazaar has been trying to book Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen for a cover (one which could actually revive the mag), but reps keep saying Ashley's unavailable. In reality, it's Mary-Kate who's avoiding the spotlight. Wisely, we might add. [ELK (2nd item)]
· Supermodel Kate Moss and ex-Libertine Pete Doherty are reportedly engaged. If Pete can stay out of rehab long enough, they might actually get married, too! [Page Six]
· Nightclub Kos is a trendy financial sinkhole, but celebrity investors Lenny Kravitz and Denzel Washington don't seem to care. [Lowdown]
· Naomi Campbell has a new lover, 24-year-old Brazilian Sergio Marone. Hopefully this one is young and hearty enough to withstand a few blows to the skull. [R&M (2nd item)]
· The gossip monkeys continue to throw their feces at one another. [Gatecrasher (bottom of page)]
· Britney on being a grown-up: "Like omigod, I have to tell the maid to buy diapers and get the pool boy to walk the dog? Can t I just make out with Kevin all the time? Being married sucks." [Scoop]
The less bleary-eyed among you might notice that we're looking a little fresh this morning. No, no — no work done, just a week at the Canyon Ranch, we swear, and we didn't even need the botox. Honestly, our cheekbones just grew on their own after an afternoon with Christine Chin... Okay, and a day spent with the most fabulous doctor on 67th! Guilty as charged! Don't tell the girls at Swifty's, m'kay? Our little secret.
Assistants with debilitating hangovers make shitty tipsters (trust us, we've learned that one that hard way), so we're just going to have to imagine the celeb-infested orgy that took place at Prey last night.
· There is justice in this world: Jay Leno will be allowed to make jokes about Michael Jackson, and The Tonight Show will remain practically unwatchable. [AP]
· Now that reigning chessmaster Kasparov has retired from the game, the stage is clear for supermodel Carmen Kass' rise to power. [AP]
· Charting the silicone as it slides down Steven Tyler's face. [Awful Plastic Surgery]
· A PETA protest manages to make eating at J.Lo's Pasadena restaurant Madre's even worse. [IMDb]
· Four days late, and it's still more useful than fucking Absolute. [Banterist]
Friday:
· Heatherette designers Richie Rich and Traver Rains have a super gay birthday bash at Temple tonight. Oh, go on—you know you want to. Just tell 'em we sent you.
· Former Fez doorman and current writer/raconteur Jonathan Ames headlines a show to bid adeu to his former stomping ground. Evidently, every performance space in this city is shutting down. [Fez]
· UK imports Hood, having bravely survived the 90's, bring their lo-fi electronic sound to the swaying children at the Mercury Lounge. [ML]
Saturday:
· Of "After Hours," a series of art exhibits in Brooklyn that coincide with the Armory Show in Manhatten, Flavorpill comments: "tonight's Brooklyn soiree is really a trans-gallery celebration of artists, filtered through the unique sensibility that is Williamsburg." I guess we missed the memo that said that Pabst cans and yuppie I-bankers now constitute a "unique sensibility." [flavorpill]
· Lost your apartment keys again, darling stoner? Then this is definitely not the contest for you: the U.S. Memory Championships come to the ConEdison building today. Or is it tonight? Where's the cereal? [USAM]
Sunday:
· On March 1st, at 2:33am, "Hashim" of Upcoming.org said: "Atmosphere has new material to perform with? I always like their [sic] shows so I'll be there." Thanks, Hashim! Bowery Ballroom's the place to be — hang with Hashim and hear the white boy rap about love and angst. [Upcoming]
Our crack team of legal analysts (all of whom wear tinfoil hats, thankyouverymuch) would like to present a very, very important lawsuit:
We hate to get all intra-blog incestuous (okay, actually we love to get all intra-blog incestuous), but what the hell is going on over at Gridskipper now that Nick Denton is editing it? Don't get us wrong: we love Denton (his generosity, his intelligence, his keen sense of right and wrong, his, well, everything), but has no one else noticed that he's making shit up?!?
For those who haven't seen the movie Cool Hand Luke , here's the deal: Paul Newman attempts to eat 50 hard-boiled eggs in an hour and succeeds, winning riches, admiration from his fellow prisoners, and complete digestive shutdown. Yesterday, Maxim assistant editor Steve Mazzucchi attempted to eat 50 sickeningly sweet Cadbury Creme Eggs. To be nice (and to delay the inevitable seizures by a couple hours), they gave Steve-O a full day to accomplish this feat, from 10:00 am until 6:00 pm. Gawker sent over special correspondent (and full disclosure: former Maxim intern) Noelle Hancock to make sure the contest was monitored for quality assurance. Diabetic comas galore, after the jump!
Finally, the origins of the impulse to act are revealed!
Sometimes we love this town so much we can hardly bear it; if it were a bunny, we'd squeeze it so hard that its adorable little marble eyes would pop out and roll underneath the warren. Even when blinded by a spell of late night horniness, this aspiring actor is still practical enough to think about his career:
...the Wall Street boys want it even rougher:
