Life is not a dress rehearsal. Because you're naked, stupid.

Because I'm older than K-Stew and I use conditioner I get asked a lot of questions. And since I cried at least six times during Glee today, I am now in a state of great empathy and feeling towards my fellow humans. Here is your questions answered:

Is W College really like in that movie? Yes. But there's less alcohol and smoking nowadays.

Have you always been such a control freak? No, it takes a lot of time and exercise to reach this high level of neurosis perfection *scratches skin from hands*

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Which one is John Irving's best novel? Hotel New Hampshire, you Ellen Jamesian. You wanna say something? Talk to my hand.

Why does she think I hate her boyfriend? I totally forgot who asked me this question in which context. Anyways, she probs thinks you hate the mandude because you didn't listen to him babbling about how hot Katy Perry is or Resident Evil 3. These are the two most common reasons in my experience.

How do I stop consuming? (see also: How can I stop my addiction to American TV series?) You can't and you won't. Cheers.

Will people come to our exhibition? Yes, definitely. It's on 22nd of October in "Das Werk" (Neulerchenfelderstraße 6-8, 1160 Wien). There's gonna be lots of art, music, love and decadence. If you don't come, I will hate you. Like forevs.

What is better: using a condom - which you hate - or having a brainfuck because your menstruation is late? There's plenty of other options, babyhoney. Did you ever hear about these things attached to your arms? They're called hands. And all the other stuff Darwin invented (Anyways. Act safely and responsibly. Seriously. Not kidding here).

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Do I go to the toilet too often? No.

Do I have a crush on James Franco? Quite possibly.

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How does one get over a break up? Jameson. Long answer to be discussed below.

The 5 Stages of Grief Exemplified Through Popculture

Have you been left because you're too good-looking and intelligent? Did you leave your partner because you couldn't agree on Apple vs. Microsoft? And now you kind of regret it, because your PC has a virus AGAIN and your better half is not there to lend you his/her Powerbook to watch the last episode of Gossip Girl? This is called loss. And it's serious. Like purchasing weirdly sized tampons.

1) Raw Raw Oh Lala

First, you'll experience the many beauties of denial. What? Don't know what that is. I'm not interested in it. Please let me brood in my indifference for now. Thanks. Where is the remote control?

Music: Everything you usually listen to, Lady Gaga, Madonna, Hip Hop, R&B.

Literature: Vogue, David Sedaris.

Art: Keith Haring, Andy Warhol.
Film: Harry Potter, Tim Burton (I am well aware that Harry Potter is not yet a film director. Thanks.)

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2) Well, they get what they want and they never want it again.

Second, you'll get angry. This is the moment in which you should go to a 90s party. There you'll get drunk, rip apart your flannel shirt and scream from the top of your lungs. This is also the phase in which you might discover a short-term half-hearted interest in 3rd wave feminism (in case you're a woman).

Music: Hole, L7, Bikini Kill, Violent Femmes.

Literature: Matias Faldbakken, Thomas Bernhard.

Art: Georg Baselitz, Jackson Pollock (remember Short Bus? Thanks, G)

Film: Lars von Trier.

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3) If I only could. Make a deal with god.

Third, after curing your giant hangover, you'll meet up with your unemployed friends and analyze.Your friends will be super bored of course, but if they're good humans, they'll fake mild interest in your complaining and nod from time to time.

Music: Kate Bush (Running up that Hill), Depeche Mode (Walking in my Shoes).
Literature: Cosmopolitan advice columns, Elizabeth Gilbert.

Art: some shit from the 19th century,

Film: some of the darker Woody Allen stuff.

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4) Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head.

Later that night, you'll walk home and process your sad panda feelings. You'll find out that no one loves you, and although you're so very entertaining, you're gonna sleep alone at night.

Music: The Smiths, Joy Division.

Literature: Ingeborg Bachmann, Sylvia Plath.

Art: Egon Schiele, Martina Abramovic.

Film: David Lynch, Titanic.

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(That gown is mighty cool. Can I have it in my size, please?)

5) I will survive.

Just kidding, everyone loves you! After some couple of centuries you'll have arrived at a stage of acceptance. Congratulations, it's time to move on and find someone new who doesn't know all your negative character traits, or that your family is horribly loud, or that you actually had really crappy 80s hair as a kid.

Music: Gloria Gaynor, New Order, Iggy Pop, Florence and the Machine.

Literature: Shakespeare (the lighter stuff).

Art: Asgar/ Gabriel

Film: Breakfast at Tiffany's, and all the other Hollywood movies made from 1930 to 1965.

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How can I have MY questions answered? Submit them in the comment section or at FB. Or ask me personally. I charge much less than your psychoanalyst.

Mad World

Initially I wanted to post "Top 3 Historical Plagues" and "Top 5 Worst Summer Fashion", but I got so annoyed and scared by the latter, that I decided to write about something positive instead. But before, a little newsflash:

Bachelorette parties are real fun in case you're not the bride. If I should ever get married, I will not allow a party to take place because I fear cold-blooded revenge from my sister (also: I'm Katy "Fucking" Fitch! who the fuck are you?) (also: the girl working at the Diesel store in Vienna totally looks like Effy) (also: this information is irrelevant for most of you because you don't know what the hell I'm actually talking about) (also: go see Skins ASAP in case you want to take part in our Skins-themed party) (also: I'll dress up as Panda Poo).

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I wanted to see Eclipse yesterday to carry out an anthropological experiment involving teenage girls, group hysteria and shameless objectification of Brits. My strictly scientific participant observation couldn't be carried out though. That's why I saw Before Sunrise again, which involves a lot more talking, actual pre-marital sex, and Vienna.

I re-positioned some of my books. This time, I colorschemed them. Like my socks.

There is new advise in the category "How to live": In case you're PMSing, don't go to a place where sweets are expensive. In honor of this very useful recommendation I made a pie chart illustrating why sometimes it's hard to be a woman.

I admit that this pie chart exaggerates the percentaged intake of chocolates. Sometimes it's also about committing carbizide.

There is clear photo evidence that Amy Macdonald has an evil twin sister:

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(It's Katy Perry in case you wondered)

Mad Men will start its 4th season on Sunday evening. These are some of the things I wish to happen:

1) Don Draper and Joan Holloway hook up. This would be like Christmas and Easter, coffee and cigarrettes, Jack White and Allison Mosshart, Gin and Tonic, me and Johnny, the pope and hypocrisy.

via and via

2) The art department uses Helvetica more often.

3) Bob Dylan gets his album cover designed by Sterling Cooper.

4) Peggy gets equal pay.

5) The African American elevator operator gets a really good job.

6) Sterling Cooper hires Andy Warhol. Andy Warhol has an affair with Sal resulting in happiness and screenprints.

These things probs won't take place soon, but on the other hand who would've thought that the English guy's foot would've gotten lacerated by a lawn-mower in season 3?

This week's Gender Fuck Award for re-wording Florence and the Machine lyrics goes to madmad: "A chick with a dick is better than none".

Here's a very sweet video of a cute baby bear to get your mind off the whole Don & Joan situation:

MY NY MY NY MY

Hello people-inos. There's two to twenty things I'm gonna write about today, so let's see how tired and snarky I'll be at the end of the post. My tired count right now is 3 and my snarkiness count is 4.

First of all, as you perhaps already noticed, you cute human apes, I changed the blog design a little. Not sure I like it, I'm gonna see. Do I really think that baby blue goes with blood red? Maybe. Additionally, I wanted to say that I really like your glasses, strawberry milkshakes and hovering cats. Thanks.

Second, I updated the link collection in the left sidebar. It now includes lovely ordinarypeople: collaborative art project vienna. I'm deeply honored to be their resident press bitch. They'll fire me soon, because I write convulated sentences full of relative clauses, which are like that, and long listings: academic vocabulary, 19th century metaphors, abbrvtns, you name it. We're in the process of organizing the bestest ever performance exhibition to date in Vienna (maybe the second bestest since Valie Export's breast box in the 70s. We don't want to be too pretentious). I'll keep you updated. That's both a promise and a threat. Here's two of the artists we'll hope to work with:

by Thomas Seiger via

by Zwupp! via

I hereby also take the opportunity to shamelessy promote clmty, i.e. Viennese design par excellence, lost in footage, a blog for all the fearless German readers among you, No Silent Night, who are gonna play a fabonkulous gig in B72 on Independence Day and pop:sch, my electro heroes.

Third, the Haus of Gagayonce happening has been set to take place on the 24th of July 2010. Get your calendars ready and put some glitter on the date!

Hawt like Mexico! via

What else, maidens and boys? I watched The Runaways, which was a surprisingly good rock'n'roll movie and probably the first movie I saw this year passing the Bechdel Test. I had very low expectations in the beginning since it was marketed as a female Velvet Goldmine. Let me tell you something here. It's not possible to ever make a movie like VG again. Ever. The Runaways was NOT a female Velvet Goldmine, mostly because there was far less whimsical stuff happening (like Oscar Wilde being delivered to planet earth by an alien space ship). Also, KStew had weirder hair than Ewan McGregor, which is fine, because it's set in the 70s and it was mostly taking place in California, not in the motherland. Everything else was exactly the same.

This one has a top 3 place re: most terrible/awesome album covers in glamrock history via

I have two main topics in mind for this post. The first idea is to write a boring nostalgic/sentimental piece about New York City. The second possibility is to make a "Top 3 List of Historic Medical Plagues That Freak Me Out and Keep Me From my Well-Deserved Sleep at Night". Although I prefer the latter one, I sort of have to stick to the first one, because I'm a member of the AA (Americans Anonymous) and today is an important day:

My name is jive and I haven't had a drop of NYC in one year. And although I feel quite accomplished and I am at least a 197° well-rounded *cough* person, I would leave the Top Model House immediately if someone would endow me with a 300 m2 loft in the West Village and a life-long supply of Vitamin Water, Whole Foods foods, creme cheese sesame bagels, Brooklyn Lager and Parliament cigarettes (I once bought a pack for 11$! It's gotten so costly to destroy one's health).

So here is why I like Gotham so much:

1) When you think of 'city', the first thing that pops up in your head is probably a picture of New York. It's the material and pop-cultural embodiment of urban life. I love cities, so it's only consequential for me to love New York, the mum and dad of cities (I haven't been to Asia or Africa yet, so my perspective is biased by the destinations I travelled. I'm open to change my opinion).

Completely random taxi driver via

2) No one gives a shit. You can dress like a gothic mermaid or do some Open Air disco rollerskating in spandex. It's OK. It's fine. It's encouraged. Since there's plenty of colorful fish in the sea, you have to try harder than anywhere else. Here is how to begin your journey:



3) It will never be boring. NY is a big fat machine invented to distract you from everything you were taught to find important.

4) It's truly never dull. For anyone. The city is basically what you make of it, a white canvas handing you over an endless amount of crayons. You're a grandma? Go watch Cats. You have a moustache and wear vintage shoes? Move to Williamsburg. You are Michel from Gilmore Girls? Let's meet in the Village.

random pic of Patti Smith just because she's cool via

5) The subway runs the whole night (it can be a little creepy though).

6) The residents are a truthfully sarcastic and hilarious asshole-y people, which I very much prefer to other kinds of Americans (No offense intended, dear Americans. You are usually much friendlier and more polite than Europeans) (No offense intended, Europeans. You have the better food).

7) It's such a powerful thought to know that at every moment - night and day - you're surrounded by millions of highly diverse people experiencing every human condition imaginable. All in walking distance.

8) There's less dog poo than in Vienna.

Rihanna and her two handbags immediately pop up if you google "dog" + "new york" via

That was that and this is it. Tune in next time, when it's finally time for ***SPOILER ALERT*** cholera, the bubonic plague and smallpox! Yeah!

tiredness count: 6
snarkiness count: 8
have to pee count: 10

Haus of Gagayoncé

Oh my! Your fingernails are so shiny today! This is gonna be one of these posts that doesn't have any particular topic. I'm just writing whatever comes to mushy mind.

- Thanks to Bavarian M, a.k.a. Lady Gaga #2, for her suggestion to watch "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" in the first place. I salute your popcultural wisdom!

- In reaction to my last post, many lovely readers brought additional amazing imaginary bands to my attention, e.g. Alvin and the Chipmunks, Josie and the Pussycats, and The Fabulous Stains. If you haven't heard of the latter, this girl punk band appears in the 80s movie "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains", starring a SUPERyoung Diane Lane and lots of Siouxsieesque eye make-up (I haven't seen it yet, but it looks convincingly cringeworthy/ fabulous).

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- For everyone who always wanted to see two (very likely) intoxicated girls wearing popstar costumes without pants and acting ridiculously embarrassing in public, there is great news! You don't have to visit Brighton on a Saturday night anymore, since the action will take place in a city near you. I have been challenged by a Lady がが and now I can't chicken out anymore or I will lose my pop honor, because once you kill a cow you gotta make the burger.

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If you want to be part of our Entourage - or as we insiders refer to it, our "Haus of Gagayoncé" - get some fabulous outfits, move your derrière over here and together we will exult the night away. Although we appreciate you knowing the whole back catalogue, by heart, mainly concentrate on rehearsing Bad Romance, Single Ladies, Telephone and Pokerface (the Glee version, pleaaaase). If you need inspiration on how to express yourself humbly through dancing with props, I suggest you watch this. If you need motivational help with your singing while wearing a bear on your hat, watch this.

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- Apropos furry headwear: Benjamin Franklin supposedly wore his rustic beaver hat during official events while he lived in France. He did this in order to underline his hearty American heritage. Remember, this was at a time when Marie Antoinette had ships in her hair sculptures. Joy! Love! I have to pee!

via and via

- Marina Abramovic does amazing performance art in the MOMA. Did I already mention this? She must be totally de-hydrated!

- With the help of G, I figured out one of the composite factors that contribute to being a grown-up --> ironic distance from teenagehood = 5% nostalgia and 95% relief that it's all over now, baby blue. A shoelace that is actually a guitar string becomes a logistical problem as soon as you try to tie it. Three bottles of green hairspray sound good in theory, but they fail to provide clean bathrooms after usage, causing mother-daughter-relations to plummet. I should really do a post on the wrongness of teenage style choices. Good excuse to talk about werewolves. Also, why is there no Team Bella? Feminism, anyone?

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- Ah, great bridge! The Seven Sisters decided to open up an eight franchise in the Ukrainian woods. These Eastern Wendys are trained in martial arts and presumably don't eat ice cream for breakfast.

photography by Guillaume Herbaut via

- Something completely different: the Aids Conference 2010 is going to take place in Vienna and it'll be huge (they even delayed the Life Ball because of it!). They need volunteers to get the whole thing running smoothly, so if you don't have plans for July 18- 23, register here. I can help you organize a free place to sleep, of course.

- I nearly forgot. There's gonna be a SKINS movie coming out in 2011! Reportedly, it will combine the casts of both generations, which makes me wonder how long this film will be. I don't care about Freddy, but please lovely writers, bring back Chris! He is so charming in his idiocy.

Don't Rain On My Parade

Ladies and gentlemen,

Your hands look very manicured today. Well done, homo sapiens.

Did you know that dolphins are just gay sharks? Me neither. But thanks to the new episode of Glee I do. I waited for so long for the series to continue. But it was worth the excruciating emotional pain I felt every time a network decided to put a beloved TV-series on hiatus (I'm talking to you, Californication. And to you, My so-called Life). Some people are so happy that Glee is on air again, they decided to dance their hearts out. In public places. All over the world.

Here are some reasons I wish my high school had had a Glee club (It actually did. But I was with the art losers and not with the musical weirdos. I was busy painting tree-shaped rectangles and shit). If I were Rachel, I would do the following:

1) If I would have a strong feeling like anger, hurt, love, or ambition, mysterious music would suddenly start playing and I would just break out singing a dramatic ballad like it was the most natural thing on earth. Dancers would appear out of nowhere and guitar players in wheelchairs would flow around. In real life (at least in British movies) this kind of behavior leads to being a social outcast. In Glee you'll get squisheed but you'll also be an amazing star. Like Rachel Berry *puts a star here*


2) I would wear outrageous dresses: "She looked like Pippi Longstocking - but like Israeli"

via www.fanpop.com

3) I would rehearse "Defying Gravity" every day. Not just every two days, like I do now.

4) SPOILER ALERT! Idina Menzel would be my mum. Maybe.

5) I would craft a relationship calendar in which my jock boyfriend's face and mine would be photoshopped onto cute cat pictures.


6) I would very much look forward to the day I would perform every notable Madonna song in appropriate gear WITHOUT the occasion being a costume party at my own place.

via www.idolator.com

7) I would be a rising and beautiful female nerd. But no one needs to be Rachel Berry to live just that. Am I right? Now go and rehearse. Shoo shoo!

Something else: I'm really obsessed with Venn Diagrams, so I made one myself. Here it is:

God, Shoes, and Shorts

I'm going to start this one off with something on the not so funny side of life (understatement alarm!). It will be over in a second (in 10 minutes to be honest), so if you can spare the time please watch this video in which Oscar Wilde Stephen Fry talks about why he thinks that the catholic church is NOT a force for good in the world. It's better than going to the dentist. I promise. Not better than the effects of anesthesia though.



Now let's make a 180 degree turn and talk about some brighter, yet not less frightening topics in life. As some of you already know, I surrendered to destiny and decided to pop-torture myself in the worst way known to humankind.

1) I will practice the dance steps to Beyonce's "Single Ladies"
2) and will perform said dance
3) in appropriate costume
4) in a hipster location of choice
5) after asking the DJ to play the song
6) and keep photographic as well as written eveidence of my popcultural anthropological experience/nightmare

I will almost certainly chicken out this time (give me a break, I already did soooo many weird things. Green christmas-y pj-bottoms? That RHPS re-enactment? "I'm a barbie girl" AND "Jolene" in a certain bar I only found because I bonded with a gay guy over discussing Britney's "Womanizer" video? I don't know what this glorious country did to me. Besides transforming my accent into something undeniably deniable, and besides getting me hooked on American Apparel, bagels, brownies, Sunday Sundaes, those coloured cereals, waffles, busses with WiFi, and shiny happy people with amazingly regular titan-white teeth).

And since I will probably not do it, I need YOU! Yes, YOU! You will have to think of something equally meaningful and world-shattering to do, in order to build up group pressure. Then we can all shame each other into doing things that really matter in our lives. As an imbursement for your time and help you will receive two special limited gifts:

1) my never-ending appreciation (depends)

2) a free once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to write a blog entry for fashflash (guaranteed. might be erased if not funny)

Because I'm a really nice girl I already thought about some of the things YOU could do. For example, write my master thesis (only if you get an A), be one of my harajuku followers, or be my Lady Gaga counterpart at the big day out. OK, enough hipness, let's change topic...again....

Did you know that researchers finally found the world's ugliest shoes? Now you do:


Scholars also found the world's most elaborately patterned shorts (thanks for the tip, Ms S)

To be honest, I feel a little sorry for Mischa lately. She was a really promising actress when she started. And with that I don't mean The O.C., duhh! dadada-dadam-dadada-dadam, California here we come, dupidupidupiduuuu. Maybe Mischa just needs a care bear to hug her and everything will be alright. I'm a believer!

On the bright side, academics also discovered the most stylish contemporary as well as period costume design on TV (The hair grooming? The soft silk robes? yum! If one could just ignore the misogyny I would love to travel back in time and say Hi to John, Jackie and Marilyn)


What else? Some people get old, some people age with dignity or unexpectedly valuable fashion products, some will look eternally classy, and some want nothing but fame while others deny themselves completely (I know this guy is a genius and he doesn't give a fuck about anything, but he is THE poster boy for an imminent monobrow, like wowowowowo).

So many links today, but not enough photos and videos. OK, I'll make it up to you with this little treat. Happy Holidays and don't forget to fill the world with love or whatever you have at hand!

Nachtrag in Deutsch: Absolute persönliche Wortschatzis der letzten Folge: "Kapstadt war ja schon der Burner, aber New York ist ja die Bombe", sowie "Boah, diese Hosen, ey! Was Frauen alles anziehen" Find ich auch. Diese Woche ist übrigens Umstyling. Unterhaltung garantiert!

Florence and the Oscar Machine

There was so much happening in the last three days! Besides washing my hair I was lucky enough to see two concerts. Oh, and the Oscars happened too...

Florence and the Machine
Drama, baby!

There is some bands that get hyped and after the first excitement wears off, they become like a throw-away plastic bag. Just remember to forget. This is definitely not the case with Florence and the Machine. Before I went to the concert I didn't KNOW any of her songs, I just heard some of them and they didn't leave any trace in my memory. But now? The concert was a bundle of positive fashion energy, english eccentricity and general Kate-Bushness (She's the woman who can sing about washing machines and the number pi and make you weep in the process). To see what I mean, here are some rather demure Kate pics:

Everyone who knows me personally, is aware that it doesn't take much for me to perform "Wuthering Heights" at any given location/time (shower, street, flat, bar, university, church, park, beach, bed). But even the last teeny tiny inhibitions I had were finally gone after the concert on Sunday evening. Here is a video that should give you an idea... (the sound was much much better in reality):



I never had the feeling she was a cheap Kate rip-off, though. I think there's a big difference between being inspired by someone and copying. Florence and the Machine are definitely category one. My NANOWRIMO novel is category two. Proudly.

When I grow up, I want to be a free-spirited pixie hopping around on an enchanted stage full of flowers, harps and jungle drums. Tinkerbell will be my BFF and Peter Pan my boyfriend (I saw Finding Neverland again in January and maybe I cried a little...again). In case you wondered, Florence Welch is only 23 years old and her mum is a professor of Renaissance Studies. That explains so much...

Academy Awards

The citizens of the Republic of Internet already wrote (and bitched) so much about the Oscars, that I'll just post my favourite gown of the evening and that's it. It's not the best dress ever (Why is there weird triangles? Why did no one wear a swan?) but in comparison to all the others, this Donna Karan still looks good on Penelope. Go Spain!

(I'm sorry for the font problems. If it's any consolation, it's not my fault)

What I learned from life (Random Edition)

Lovely to see you again, your hair looks fabulous today!

What happened after we last saw each other? Alexander McQueen died and now everyone loves him. I'll let the pics speak for themselves. Also: I think I found the dress I'm going to wear at my sister's wedding.

New York Fashion Week happened without Serena or Ugly Betty interrupting, as did the Golden Globes (Thanks for the tweets and photos, Amanda), the BAFTAs (Oh Kristen, you need a Fitball and some self-confidence enhancers ASAP), and Anna Howard Shaw Day (Did I tell you the story of last Valentine`s Day? Did I? Vietnamese waiters certainly watch too much porn...).

I also saw some weird exhibitions (Leo circa 1996 is a cute girl) and endured a ton of movies, in order to poison my environment with snarky comments if one of them should win an Oscar. Here is my preliminary commentary:

• I really really HATE Avatar. I said it. It's out there. Now deal with it.
• The Hurt Locker: Bah! Really?
• Up in the Air: OK, but not Oscar-worthy. Love his tipps on airport behavior though (At security control stand in line behind single Asian men)
  
• Julie & Julia: Category "Movie I could watch with my mom without cringing", therefore disqualified.
• Precious: A little bit too much, eh? I am a sucker for "good teacher in bad neighbourhood"- stories though...
• Inglorious Basterds (did I write this right/wrong?): Yes please. Thank you. This one.
• Bright Star: Nice gardens and costumes, but I'm not so much into poetry, sorry. Great camera though.
• Young Victoria: German accents are really popular this year, aren't they? Interesting dresses, but there are better perios dramas out there.
• The White Ribbon: Not as unsettling as Haneke's other movies, but it still makes you feel bad. Great for a over-analyzing and super-deep historical discussions afterwards.
  

Besides watching movies, I walked on sandy beaches, not being the one getting sexually molested. Jealous? Yeah, me too.

9) (sorry, this only makes sense in German) Letztes Monat im H&M während des Abverkaufs. Accessoireabteilung Erdgeschoss Mariahilferstraße. Neben mir zwei Mädels, vielleicht 16, nasales Gymnasiastenwienerisch: "Schau her", sagt die eine und zeigt auf die Geldtaschen vor ihr in der Schütte, "die gibts in blau, gold und Schlange!".

8) This is how I want to be when I'm 50




7) Roller Derby is brutal. I really want to visit Austin, Texas. They have boots there.

6) DIY stencil shirts are fun!

(click here for more info on mechanical ducks from the 18th c, by far my third favorite century)

(click here for more info on cry-babies, by far my favorite babies)

5) Maybe, in a parallel universe, I could under certain limited circumstances eventually not hate Lady Gaga. And maybe I quite like one of her stylists, Nicola Formichetti.

4) Don't ever go to a Pilates session with a friend. Trust me when I say this, but you should go there alone, without anyone giggling next to you and reminding you of the ridiculesness of it all. Strenghten your POWERHOUSE! If I only knew what a powerhouse was things would be much easier.

3) Many fights will never end, but sometimes their focus shifts. Girl, Interrupted: from Winona versus Angie to Brittany. Sweets: from licorice (no alcohol) versus marzipan (no alcohol) to Martini Bianco (alcohol). Movies: from Miss Undercover versus Secretary to Mean Girls. TV Series: from How I met your mother (funny) versus Californication (sex) to Secret Diary of a Call Girl (funny sex).

2) The writers of Gossip Girl somehow got hold on my NANOWRIMO novel and stole some major storylines. Or was it the other way round?

1) And because I'm grumpy since it started snowing again I won't spare you this map about sea-level rise. I already did the work for you, so here are the answers:

• sea-level rises for 1m: really not good for the Netherlands and Belgium
• sea-level rises for 4m: Goodbye Carnaval in Cadiz! Goodbye Brighton Pier again!
  
• sea-level riese for 8m: POTUS has to find new summer residence, MIT lives on in the Internet (What a sucker: Harvard will still stand arrogantly!)
• sea-level rises for 14m: Thompkins Square Park Boat Rental.

0) If I'll ever get arrested I want to look as classy as Bowie does:

Schämet Euch!

In Antwort auf diesen NYTimes Artikel bezüglich Frauengruppen auf Sex and the City - Film - Mission, eine kleine Abschätzung der Folgen massenhafter femininer Verblödung:

Once assembled, the teams will eat overpriced Asian fusion, yell at movie screens, terrorize nightclubs and, of course, consume near-lethal doses of cosmopolitans [...]. In the end, the streets will fill with vomit and desperate tears; your ears will ring with resigned sobs and frenzied mating shrieks.

Ich freu mich jedenfalls schon. Kann mir bitte jemand die Haare hochhalten?

FAQs: Wie kommentiere ich?

Nachdem schon einige hochgeschätzte LeserInnen böse Kritiken, sarkastische Anmerkungen und überschwängliche Liebeserklärungen zu unserem Blog abgeben wollten, hier eine kleine Erklärung wie mensch Kommentare abgeben kann, ohne ein Google-Konto einzurichten.

Zuerst mal unter einem Blogpost auf den Button "Kommentare" klicken. Dann kommt folgendes Fenster (von dem ich leider kein größeres Foto machen kann. Warum nicht? Weil Frederik heute schlecht aufgelegt ist):

Also zuerst einen Kommentar schreiben, dann Code eingeben, auf Name/ Url klicken, originelle Namen eingeben (z.B. SexySekretärin56 oder Teddybär72) und auf "Veröffentlichen" klicken. Ihr könnt auch anonym Kommentare hinterlassen, dazu einfach auf "Anonym" klickseln. Natürlich hat es keinen Sinn anonym zu veröffentlichen, da ich schätzomativ sowieso weiß wers war:

And I'll wait my turn,
To terrorize you,
watch you burn.

Scherzerl. Ich freu mich schon auf euren Senf! Schöne Woche!

Basse Couture

Wie ihr vielleicht schon bemerkt habt, hat sich inzwischen herauskristallisiert, dass madmad tendenziell für die Haute Couture verantwortlich ist und ich für die Basse Couture (= B.C.) zuständig bin.

Ich schwafle liebend gern über Populärkultur: Jordan Catalano (den ich übrigens LIEBE LIEBE LIEBE), Krokodilledercowboystiefel und extrem-trashige Augenbeschminkung. Mit letzterer hatte ich vor kurzem selber im Rahmen eines Fotoshootings Kontakt, woraufhin madmad meinte:

deine fotos sind echt der wahnsinn, mädel! solltest dich öfter so auftakeln! okey, nein, lieber nicht... zumindest nicht in dem ausmaß!

Danke madmad. Ich werde mir das zu Herzen nehmen: "auftakeln [...] nicht in dem ausmaß". So jetzt aber zu was anderem. Der Absatz oben ist viel zu viel ICHICHICH.

Lifeball

..er naht und naht und ich nähe nicht, weil ich 1) bis Freitag nachmittag keine Nähmaschine haben werde und ich 2) nicht mal hingehe, weil Fräulein S an dem Tag eine Geburtstagsparty schmeißt, die wichtiger ist und bei der ich modetechnisch voraussichtlich mehr lernen kann weil am Lifeball eh alle (halb)nackert sein werden (Bei Fräulein S' Party wahrscheinlich auch, aber noch nicht um 19:00).

Amanda Lepore, die Frau (?) auf dem Foto, ist übrigens auch in Party Monster zu sehen. Näheres siehe unten.

Cannes

Die ersten Red-Carpet-Fotos sind da! Ich bin ein violett-Fan, deshalb werde ich Natalie die Rüschen verzeihen. Marjane Satrapis Blumen(-Poncho? -Kleid?) finde ich da schon viel schöner, weil gewagter.


Zuerst dachte ich das Gewuschel rechts an Cates Dekollete wären Haare. Nein! Dem ist nicht so! Da hat uns ja wiedermal ein/e DesignerIn mächtig reingelegt. Immer diese Modeschlawiner. Hach.


Und schon wieder ein Witz. Ich mochte Julianne lieber als sie noch Vaginalkünstlerin war.

SatC-Premiere in London

Das ist mir zu B.C.: Worüber man nicht reden kann darüber soll man nicht mal herziehen.

Macaulay Culkin

Ich bewundere ihn spätestens seit My Girl I, ein Film über den ich nicht schreiben kann, ohne dass mein iBook wasserschadengefährdet ist. Ich bin gerade draufgekommen, dass der kleine M so aussieht wie der kleine K:


[Ich bin heute wieder sehr wunderlich. Wahrscheinlich liegts am Periodendrama.] Dann kam Kevin und ich fragte mich weshalb Rasierwasser brennt. Eine Frage übrigens, die mir bis heute niemand zufriedenstellend beantworten konnte.


Daraufhin war es lange zeit ruhig, hie und da mal die üblichen 90s K-Geschichten und langweiliger Fitnessunterricht bei Blondie, nichts Aufregendes. Ich hingegen war (halbwegs) brav, tauschte meine



gegen


und lernte professionell über die Welt zu lästern. Letztes Jahr sah ich Party Monster (ja, das ist Chloe neben ihm) und musste zugeben, dass Macaulay eine komisch/ schrecklich/ beängstigend/ interessante Ausstrahlung hat, die nicht vielen Schauspielern zu eigen ist.


Macaulay ist vielleicht eine Art Peter-Pan-Jack-Nicholson: nie erwachsen und immer von einem Hauch an Wahnsinn umgeben, der jederzeit zu einem dichten Nebel werden kann. Gutes B.C.-Material! Notiz an Gehirn: M. Culkin im Auge behalten.