My mom came to visit this weekend, and she decided to take the $10 MegaBus back to Boston. Her description:
the scene on 31st sgtreet was TOTAL CHAOS. people lined up on the sidewalk for different destinations. we left about half an hour late, but smooth sailing the rest of the way and i sat up front with no one next to me. the bus driver had NEVER driven to boston before, so i had to help him out. oy vey. but ten dollars is ten dollars.
Last night I was introduced to a friend of a friend—my friend had gone to high school with this guy he ran into at a bar, and they were having a conversation at the next table that I wasn’t really paying attention to—and I had that thing happen where you very quickly realize that this person is someone with whom you have corresponded, civilly but somewhat hostilely, via email, about things you wrote at your previous place of employment that this person (the friend of a friend) took strong offense to, and you are left with no choice but to have a civil though somewhat awkward (although I would not say hostile) conversation with this person, whom you have a feeling you will be running into quite a bit in the future and have concluded that it probably behooves you to be friendly, if always just a bit on your guard. You know what I mean.
The Love Guru” placed fourth at the weekend box office in a serious embarrassment for Mr. Myers, who had spent years perfecting his new screen character, a love counselor named Pitka, only to be rejected by the critics and audience alike.
Sam and I went deep into Park Slope last night, and the most annoying person of the entire evening was the guy behind us on the bus from Fort Greene. He called at least five people in quick succession (including one who sounded like a girlfriend) and left voicemails trying to get them to come to the Medeski, Martin & Wood concert in Prospect Park. With each message his his assurances that it would be a GREAT CONCERT and only THREE DOLLARS A HEAD and IF YOU MAKE IT, JUST CALL ME AND WE’LL FIND EACH OTHER IN THE CROWD! got just a little more desperate.
However, in a close second for most annoying person of the entire evening was the guy sitting next to us at Bar Toto, where we grabbed a quick dinner. He seemed to be from Memphis and he was the kind of guy who has opinions about EVERYTHING and seems to enjoy nothing else than to hear himself talk about said opinions. I wanted to throttle him.
alexbalk:
Microfame is an ecosystem, a collection of fans who contribute and invest themselves in the brand called you. The best current example of this esprit de corps in action is the diaspora of former Gawker editors who have picked up microblogging. Alex, Doree, Choire, Jess, Elizabeth, Emily, and Josh each have their own sites, but their cross-references and incestuous linking have created a blogger’s version of Entourage. The posse—or as media theoreticians call it, the network—creates influence that grows exponentially with its size. If fame is an investment, the members of your posse are the stockbrokers keeping your wealth properly distributed.
I had no idea we were so busy building our brand, but if that is in fact the case it’s pretty clear that we’re all incredibly poor investments.
It’s true. My day job consists of smoking pot and discovering heretofore unknown rappers, as well as chaffeuring Emily and Choire around in a Denali while Balk sulks at home, cooking us omelettes.
My co-worker Meredith Bryan wrote an absolutely brilliant profile of Kelly Cutrone, the owner of fashion PR/production company People’s Revolution and guest “star” on The Hills, where she was featured as Whitney’s boss. She is given to saying: “I was like, ‘Paul, if I get Whitney to marry Demian, will you come and direct an episode of The Hills?’ That would be the ultimate Warhol thing, right? To get fucking Paul to do an episode of The Hills would be amaaaaazing!”
Just read it.
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