two-twenty

web round-up part deux: potshots • post/haste

We're not fooling anybody, are we? We admit it, this week is all about the true spirit of the blogosphere: appropriating ideas from other people and pretending that pointing them out to you in some way involves a creative process. Well, that and drinking something called a momo in a spitefully rebellious manner. So sue us.

• And we thought we had too much time on our hands. Mr. Jay Maynard has even more, so much in fact that he decided to use a portion of it to make a Tron costume.

Lets take a look at the inspiration for Mr. Maynard's project:

I saw lots of TRON costumes on the net, and wasn't satisfied with any of them. The biggest deficiency was that none of them attempted to capture the green tint of the characters' outfits in the computer world. Yes, I know that was added in the digital animation process, but, still, a white costume just doesn't look right. Many of them also used black for the circuit patterns, one more step away from the costumes the viewer saw in the movie.

Here are before and after shots.

Among the lessons Mr. Maynard learned through his endeavors (Lesson #3, to be specific): "No matter how hard you try, the colors will never match exactly. Don't obsess about it; do the very best you can and quit worrying."

Indeed.

• Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About. Dot com. Kinda speaks for itself.

• How would Jesus dance? Minneapolis teens get down and dirty -- well, at least down -- with their Lord and Savior. Christ clubs: coming soon to a a town near you! If you live in a state that FOXnews will gleefully fill in with red by about noon this November 2nd, that is.

• In related news: Cautionary words from your friends at Young Women Stepping Heavenward magazine:

Dating will cause: B.F.S. (Bad Focusing Syndrome)

WARNING!! : The side effects from playing the dating game are serious! The mind will become blurry and unfocused on Christ. Much desire for the things that should be the most important in your life (for example: pleasing God and parents, and focusing on learning to become a godly wife and mother) are apt to fade out, leaving your mind focused on the things that should be the least important at the moment: Boys! Results: broken hearts, strained relationships, and deep scars...

Valid points, all. Technical Virgin counters with these timeless words of wisdom (yeah you've seen it before, but it's still funny):

Our Message to Teens: Everything Butt!

[When it comes to sex], teenagers today need new choices that reflect the reality of their complex lives. Abstinence is often preached by the self-righteous right-wing pundits, but that's simply not a realistic approach to teen sexuality. To hear the fundamentalist right, you'd think even masturbation would lead to the end of civilization. But there is a way for youths to enjoy rich and satisfying sexual intimacy without risking unwanted pregnancy — ANAL SEX!

How true. Careful, though, if not practiced properly, option two may also lead to deep scars...

Thanks to Molly and Shep (and, I now realize, popbitch) for a bunch o' the links.

web round-up: hang on to your ego edition | alex • post/haste

Well, as promised it's been a slow week here at two-twenty. Surprisingly, on not a single occasion was my lack of diligence due to a soul-crushing hangover. More like soul-draining busy-ness. Can't decide which is worse. Please enjoy a short olio of orts:

• Gary Benchley, Rock Star, sticks a shiv into the soft underbelly of the blogerati over at The Morning News. This whole series has been too funny... if you haven't yet, go read it now.

• Two beautiful typos I noted recently, only one of which I got a screenshot of (which screenshot does you little good as I do not possess the necessary technical skills to transform it into an image I can post here): first, on Monday morning Netscape Network's "The Whisperer" gossip column posted this item about moving Curt Cobain's remains. Er, Kurt Cobain, that is. I can just see the eager-beaver intern over there, trying to convince her editor that this story was so timely that they couldn't wait for fact checking, and that she was so sure about it anyway ("Curt Cobain!? Of the seminal trailer-rock band Paradise!? From Vancouver? Are you kidding-- I wrote a poem about him in high school!" [apologies to lindsayism]) that she could guaran-effing-tee she was right on all counts. Hm. Should have picked up the prior week's print edition of Rolling Stone, I guess. Second, on the AIM.com Morning pop-up screen yesterday the following headline was posted: "White Power Found in Bill Clinton's Mail". In Harlem!? Damn.

• I wrote a review for The Black List this week, about how badly the Au Bon Pain self-serve coffee bar is organized. It's almost like a bizarre experiment engineered to make you bump into people and say"excuse me" (or not) a lot at an hour of the morning when that sounds less appealing than being tied up in a bag full of rats and dumped unceremoniously into that snake pit Indy had to navigate in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Anyway, yesterday I went into the Au Bon Pain across the street from work and the coffee bar had been rearranged. It was not really better, but it was different. Coincidence...? Incidentally, if you are curious I also wrote one about C. Love's breasts a few weeks ago. It can be found here.

That's all.

ahh the four seasons | joanna • post/haste

not going to bother typing properly (sorry alex) because:

1) over the past seventy-two hours i've slept approximately ten
2) i'm on my third "momo" -- some kind of vodka lemon/lime/mint concoction -- and feeling a little fun-ky
3) i am a spiteful rebel

at the four season again after spending three days on the road covering the anzac day party in gallipoli. for all you non-initiated (be happy), think spring-break-meets-veterans day. shitloads of aussies boozing it up, first in istanbul, then on the aegean coast, purportedly as some kind of commemoration of their ancestors who fought during world war one. seriously nasty shit. see?

uncle tommy sent the following link, i'm guessing because he was trying to figure out what the hell i'm doing here.

Anzac Day - home page

like its australian for anzac sites, it says nothing of the booze-infused lust convoy that is "doing anzac day".

anyway, in other news, ash's travel wallet -- containing his passport and cash for iraq -- was swiped/went missing en route to eceabac (that's australian for last-stop-for-alcohol-and-hotel-before-gallipoli). tomorrow he has to fly to effing ankara to get a new one.

battery's gone into the red zone, kids. not sure what tomorrow will hold but i'm thinking another trip to the spice bazaar. roasted paprika. already got some but the idea of running out of it kept me awake (when i had to) during the wee hours before dawn on april 25th.

stick a fork in this turkey, it's done • post/haste

Received this cryptic email from Ash yesterday, titled "Istanbul Keyword List 20040421":

Efes, pilsener, beer, raki, milky, petrol, weird smells, silk road, bazaar, rugs, carpets, kilims, ikats, textiles, lots, many, masses, antique, fake, ugly, bright, old, pile, shag, bushy, eyebrows, mono brow, unibrow, stinky, [deleted to protect the innocent], [deleted to avoid firebombing of two-twenty], [deleted to avoid an international incident], Arab, Turk, Turkmen, liars, Euros, dollars, lira, credit cards, credit, African express, tea, beverage, chai, cha, cucumbers, raw, dirty, street, evil, corn, baked, popped, booze, alcohol, hangover, aspegic, asprin, pain, hangover, abuse, alcoholic, hotel, Kybele, lamps, small, intimate, cosy, quirky, museum, harem, mike, mike's place, mike's museum, hairy, sleazy, lair, women, lots, many, masses, Canadian, Canadian woman, ugly, weird, annoying, stupid, dunce, dumb, dork, crazy, nipple, under, beneath, covers, violated, rape, pester, battery, assault, stalk, annoy, harass, harangue, Turkish, locals, boys, men, testosterone, western women, western, easy, put out, make sex, capitulate.

Right. So, there you have it. Best of luck to all involved.

in: "rap" music | out: barbershop quartets • post/haste

Another beautiful example of cultural idiocy passed along by Gawker: a 46 year-old lady of hyphenated provenance presides over a Houston-based youth trend research company. Worthless opinions, procured (one can only assume) at great expense, follow:

Generation Xers, the "nomads," were born from 1965 through 1977. They tend to be industrious, smart, independent, savers and volunteers. They serve as the computer experts for their families. They are listening to OutKast, Eminem, Beyonce, Sheryl Crow, Norah Jones, White Stripes and Staind.

"I challenge you to pick up some of this music and listen," Saurage-Altenloh said. "There is a lot of pain and understanding in this generation."

Yeah? Well, I challenge you to listen to nothing but Kenny G. and Celine Dion as you sit at your "home office" eating twinkies, perusing EW and surfing mtv.com, all while charging unsuspecting church groups $75/hr. Oh, wait...

Tune in to Generation X by listening to Eminem | The Salt Lake Tribune

my favorite vegetable • post/haste

Brian Wilson is slated to release a new solo album on June 22nd, titled "Gettin' in Over My Head" (I think I first heard about this though ultragrrrl or stereogum, or if i didn't they probably wrote something about it, so props). The here-relevant segment of two-twenty saw Brian "ol' googly eyes" Wilson perform Pet Sounds with a backing orchestra a few years ago, and it was pretty effing amazing. So, here's hoping that despite rumored colloborations with Elton John and Paul McCartney (presumably doing more this time than munching on carrots), the album will be worth the wait.

Also, somehow this slipped under our radar, but apparently Wilson played the 'entirety' of "Smile" in London a couple of months ago?!?

Brian Wilson joined by fellow rock legends on new album | nme.com
Brian Wilson performs 'lost' Beach Boys album at amazing London gig | nme.com

all music, some of the time • post/haste

• Blender's 50 worst songs ever (via stereogum). It is at least a portion of two-twenty's humble opinion that Brit Brit's "Toxic" should be in the top ten, but due to some odd Jacob's Ladder-esque breakdown in the fabric of reality, not everyone agrees with me. I mean, um, us.
 
• Thomas Bartlett's Wednesday Morning Download for the day (over at Salon) features Franz Ferdinand. And the Veils. And the French Kicks. Ummmm... isn't this supposed to be, like, all cutting edge 'n stuff? Oh, wait, one of his first picks, just as we were all trying to erase it from our heads due to overexposure in a certain commercial, was Jet's "Are You Gonna Be My Girl". Gotcha.

• The nominees for the 2004 MTV Movie Awards were announced today. Blah blah blah Best Kiss blah blah blah Best Fight blah blah blah... hey, wait a sec, You Got Served was nominated! For... oh, best dance sequence. Two-twenty doesn't think they stand a chance against the American Wedding dance off. Still, if you want respect, you've got to take it. Make your move!

greetings from istanbul | joanna • post/haste

Sitting in the posh garden cafe at the Four Seasons Hotel in finally-sunny Istanbul awaiting what surely is the only expensive cup of espresso available in the city. Oh, the waiter just brought me my orange juice... with cookies!

Our lovely but distinctly less swishy hotel -- the Hotel Kybele -- offers slug slow internet access, so it's taken the allure of WiFi to get my ass over here. Uh huh, and you just thought I'd snuck off for a bit of luxury. Well, high speed access is a luxury, I suppose. At least here.

Anyway, it's almost five pm, and the prayer just started. Would write that it's taken getting used to, but somehow it hasn't. Culture shock has been minimal, or at least in small, short waves. Biggest moment came a few moments in the New Mosque when I respectfully donned a scarf before entering. Thing is, it's tough for me to separate the creepy feeling I experienced then from the sense of ick I always feel when entering places of worship. Have decided that I’m an equal opportunity religionist. And that regardless of how beautiful a church or synagogue or mosque purportedly is inside, from now on, I'm staying out. Discomfort level higher than curiosity.

Four Seasons is located just past the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque. Prayer louder here.

And now, because I'm not sure how long it will take before the hotel's threat of charging me $24 for 24 hours of access will remain idle, a random list of observations/experiences from the last few days...

Wait, before I go on, Four Seasons stereo creating mesh-up of prayer and Grand Master Flash. Maybe it's okay because he's a Grand Master? Okay.

Egyptian Spice Bazaar today. Bazaars here are crazy. Realized that the West has removed most of the humanity from the shopping experience. Here it's like being way-back-when, only the products, well, some of them, have changed. That and they take credit cards.

Commerce everywhere. Impossible to walk the street without having someone try to get you in his store. Favorite enticement so far, "Come in! I can help you spend your money!". So direct.

Walked the streets here on my own for the first time. The men's eyes scarcely graze me when I'm with Ash -- we saw a guy getting kicked on the street, most likely for something having to do with the woman who screamed as she watched -- but alone, they don't just look, they stare and ask questions and practically stalk me.

Two nights ago, I'm pretty sure three separate men thought I was a prostitute. Ash was a step ahead of me on the phone, and one guy actually slowed down his car and rolled down his window. We were off to a nice restaurant so I was sporting a dress. The hemline was not that short, I swear.

Came back to the hotel that night and stopped by to visit Mike, one of the Kybele's owners, in his low ceilinged lair. Place is his pussy palace. We entered to find one woman asleep under one of the many multi-colored textiles that adorn his futon. He sat between her and another, fondling her nipple under the covers while he entertained us. "You look cold," he said pointing to my bare legs. "I'm fine, Mike." "No, no, it's not that I don't want to see your legs, they are lovely legs, but you are cold." Next thing I knew he'd covered them with a blanket. So it goes.

More later, maybe tomorrow. I'm getting cold.

you'll get nothing and like it! | alex • post/haste

Or, more to the point, you'll get very little and probably feel somewhat lukewarm about it. Joanna and Ash are away in Turkey for the next two weeks, documenting some Australian youth trend involving Bacchanalia and the movie Galipoli. Yours truly is very busy with a lot of work, a change in my friendster status, and the beginning of sailing season. In other words, two-twenty is going to have to take a bit of a back seat for a couple weeks. I'll still shoot for daily or near-daily posts, but remember: he who pins his hopes on degenerate drunks is often disappointed. For the time being, a few quick hits:

• The tiny, booze-soaked hamlet of Blogovia was well represented in the paper of record this weekend: witness this ode to Wonkette, as well as a scorchingly honest appraisal of celebutante v.1.0 Plum Sykes’ recent venture into the shallow end of the literary pool, written by the incorrigible Choire Sicha.

• It is with great pleasure that I walk about the city this week and hear New Yorkers recite with almost religious fervor, “It’s only April. It’s only April.” I think, in light of last season’s rather spectacular ending, that I will refuse to take the high road and respond with a simple, “Suck that A Rod, beeyotch!” (I mean that in the nicest possible way, obvs.) For more gloating, turn to The Web Presence, who really ought to be posting very soon about last weekend's three-for-four performance by the Sox.

• The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest celebrates and rewards those dark impulses that drive Darwinian rejects to put pen to paper. The Lyttle Lytton Awards celebrates, and rewards adherents to, the old adage, “If it’s so bad that it’s good, then by all means let it be brief.” The winner of this year’s “most atrocious first line to a novel… 25 words or less”:

This is the story of your mom's life.
- R. Lambert

My favorite of the runners-up, who were each given some sort of specially named achievement award apparently related to past winners, in-jokes, or complete strangers (in this case, the recipient of the “Berman Prize”):

I know who the murderer is, Kevin blogged.
- S. Kurruk

Of course, this being an election year, a special category had to be added, wherein contestants essayed to compose the most hilariously bad opening line to a political speech imaginable (needless to say, they had some stiff competition form the pros this year). The winner:

While my opponents fellate the Satan of special interests, I go down on Reform's compassionate angel.
- Anonymous

See all the winners here.

• Joanna sends the following in from abroad: as if "dogging" weren't enough, brits now claim to be "toothing", a form of near-anonymous, no strings attached sex enabld by Bluetooth technology. This isn't your daddy's commute, this is the "who's your daddy!?" commute...

So, chew on that for a while and leave us in peace. None of you probably even check in here in person anymore, now that you're all part of the Kinja clone army...

i saw your mommy and your mommy's... • post/haste

A Florida Mom narrowly escaped her teenage son's matricidal tendencies when he asked an undercover police officer  to do the deed for him. Among the boy's requests to the man he thought he was hiring to off his madre? Please don't hurt the television...
 
Kill mom but don't hurt TV, teen tells hitman | cnn.com

doesn't it get tiring being so ahead of the curve? • post/haste

Is Friendster the 'Next Big Thing'?
Why millions are jumping on this online bandwagon
By Philipp Harper

blah blah blah

Philipp Harper is a free-lance writer who lives in south Georgia. He has written about business, the economy and politics for national and regional publications. He is also a loser.

Social networking in the digital age | mobilemomentum.msn.com

olsen twins: v.v. hott on les • post/haste

This is pop culture happening, boys and girls, right before your very eyes. Courtesy of your local blogging community (via lindsayism):

"They're mini-moguls - like what Oprah would be if she were two little white girls."

you know you're broke when... | alex • post/haste

Somewhat related to the below post. Yesterday evening i was walking through Union Square after work and i passed someone who looked really familiar. I went through the usual mental gymnastics-- old classmate... friend of friend's friend... member of the Real World cast from 3-7 seasons ago... extra in Bukkake Animal Gangbang 17... you know the drill. Nothing. Then I realized... he was one of the regular Happy Hour bartenders at Welcome to the Johnsons. This probably isn't the right time to admit that I had a dream about the Cherry Tavern special the other night, huh?

drikbd good brain • post/haste

we beer. vdkaaa too.

Heavy Social Drinkers Show Brain Damage, Study Finds | Yahoo! News

miles of smiles | joanna • post/haste

Here's something the ladies who are considering stalking joining Ewan McGregor on his around-the-world motorcycle odyssey might want to put on their packing list: the VibeRider -- the Ultimate Motorcycle Accessory.

It works on all motorcycles. Hmm. Just like Ewan McGregor.

via X51.ANAL -- two-twenty's very first so-not-work-safe (Japanese!) link referrer

exclusive, indeed   • post/haste

As reported recently by the AP and amNewYork, the "reporting" of which was "reported" on yesterday by two-twenty, Williamsburg is SO TOTALLY IN! Playing catchup today are New Yorkish (thanks for the link), Gawker (thanks for nothing), and, um, CNN (thanks for the laughs).

straddling ewan • post/haste

Ewan McGregor, perhaps best known for displaying his light saber in multiple films (well, to some), is about to set out on a three-month long motorcycle journey around the world with his friend Charley Boorman. The easy riders, who have been training with former SAS soldiers to ensure that they're up to whatever rough spots they hit on the road, will document their voyage through Russia, Alaska and the United States. Two-twenty is guessing that it'll only be a matter of time before the duo are joined a la Forrest Gump by a wake of women motorcycle enthusiasts. (Joanna, what are you doing? You don't know how to ride a motorcycle. Yeah, we know you've freeze-framed Velvet Goldmine, like, a hundred times, but he's not gonna take his pants off in this one. No, we're not sure, but... fine. Go.)

ignatius steals it back • post/haste

Gain easy entry to the Confederacy of Dunces with your very own Hot Dog Vendor Cart.

cease and desist or we'll sic omarosa on you • post/haste

Over the weekend it dawned on two-twenty why The Donald is trying to trademark his phrase (well, THE phrase, really, for now anyway), "You're fired!" He's started doing television commercials for Verizon; we just saw one on Saturday. And guess who is using the phrase "You're fired!", in like 5 billion point bold font, every day on the back page of amNewYork? The competing phone company IDT. We're guessing that neither Verizon nor Mr. Donald "There is a small furry animal sitting atop my head" Trump are very pleased about this.

In other amNewYork news, today (at least on their website) they ran a cutting-edge piece about what a hot spot Williamsburg is! Apparently, there are like artists and loft spaces and a newly discovered species called "hipsters" over there!

two-twenty update • post/haste

Why we have been bad turtlers:

1. project date-our-flatmate has officially concluded: alex changed his friendster page
2. joanna and ash are leaving friday to work on a story in istanbul
3. ash leaves istanbul ten days later for iraq
4. alex, joanna, and ash dilly-dally at traffic intersections during sunday afternoon bar crawls, unintentionally (?) eating up whatever time hasn't already been usurped by drinking beer or by activities related to items 1-3

we're gonna passion like it's a three-day weekend • post/haste

Happy Good Friday / Easter everyone! We've provided a few links for your enjoyment over this three-day weekend for some (and nine-day weekend for others):

• Texas woman owns many Bibles, the contents of which unfortunately persuade her to stone her children to death. She is acquitted for reasons of insanity.

• Whip it, whip it good!

• The box-office juggernaut that is The Passion of the Christ just keeps on truckin'. Mel, penitent Catholic that he is, stands to make northward of $300M from the film. As a great religious leader once said, "If you know what life is worth, you will look for yours on Earth." Clearly, Mel Gibson was paying attention when that advice was doled out.

• America's Best Christian reviews The Passion of the Christ.

• A compilation of really bad jesus jokes.

• WWWD? (picture via about.com)

• Barely related, but while we are on the subject of combining (in)famous faces, this is really just too perfect: 2+2=Condi (via Wonkette).

Enjoy your weekend, everyone, but don't experience the passion too deeply-- remember, you have to work on Monday!

real world israeli beer-scrabble challenge | joanna • post/haste

Having spent the entire day at two-twenty, Ash and I decided to while away a few hours last night playing beer-scrabble at Calico Jack's Cantina. We never ever would have picked the place on our own, but Murph Guide's advertisement for their $2 Tuesday special seemed just the ticket to assuage our wanderlust while maintaining gentle pressure on our hemorrhaging finances (hemorrhaging incurred by buying tickets for said wanderlust). After narrowly escaping The Campbell Apartment's tractor beam en route (okay, Ash literally had to drag me by the hand to circumvent it), we arrived at the bar's location on 42nd and 2nd.

Past the plant-covered concrete barricades, and through the door, we found that few others were as enticed as we were by the promise of drinking cheap booze while making fun of people playing in a beer pong tournament. The bar was practically dead, save for a few nimrods, one of whom body-blocked me on my way to the ladies' room just to say "hi". There was, in fact, no beer pong tournament, nor were there any $2 specials other than Corona. Maybe we were just too late. We sat down at a table by the window with our beers, and commenced playing Scrabble.

One Corona down (and with Ash in the lead), we headed out for a smoke. Noticing the line of concrete barricades again, and the Policeman stationed at the end of the row, we wondered why the corner that seemed only to house Calico Jack's and an Irish bar needed protection. Ash approached the cop-in-a-box, inquiring about the "blast walls".

"If I told you I'd have to kill you," the guy replied, scarcely exiting his station. Giggling inanely at his own oh-so-original joke, he went on to explain that the building we were in, the one in which we sat drinking Coronas by the window, housed the Israeli Consulate. Yeah, that Israeli Consulate.

After a brief conversation in which Ash and I decided never to drink at Calico Jack's without his and hers flak jackets, we bought another round and finished playing Scrabble. You might say that the game, like the outing, was a close call. Well, Ash might call the game a close call (he lost), and I might call the outing a close call (I'm a loser).

Should you feel like tempting fate, this Saturday Calico Jack's paints a big fat bullseye on its forehead in more ways than one: they are having an "Appletini & Spring Bikini Party"  hosted by MTV's reality stars Veronica and Brad.

Gives new meaning to the phrase Inferno Fantasy Challenge, doesn't it? 

Go ahead, take the challenge. If you don't get blown up, you might be able to take home a very special memory, like of Brad slobbering all over your face, or, perhaps, of Brad slobbering all over your girlfriend's face. Or maybe Veronica's. Almost makes you want to pick the getting blown up option, huh?

and the winner isn't • post/haste

The Pulitzer Prizes were announced today. Two-twenty congratulates the winners... and extends our condolences to Robert Lee Hotz, Anne Hull and Tamara Jones, and Patricia Wen , the feature writing finalists whose work all failed to nab the presigious award. Damn.

but she's still 'lupe from the block • post/haste

Some gals have all the luck. First she narrowly escapes having Ben Affleck for a son in law, then she goes and wins a cool couple mill. Guadalupe Lopez, two-twenty salutes you. And we are prepared to be your new bestest, bestest friends.

J. Lo's Mother Wins $2.4M at N.J. Casino | Yahoo News

hello kitty v 1.0.1b • post/haste

To paraphrase a Chinese proverb (which we so wish was Japanese), show a man a Hello Kitty water pipe; you have delighted him for today. Teach a man to make a Hello Kitty water pipe; you have delighted him for a lifetime.

Dane, one of our treasured readers and a two-twenty disciple, if you will (though you probably shouldn't), put our ingenuity to the test. In his own words:

My girlfriend sent me your link and jokingly said to make it in my spare time. which of course i never have, so i made spare time and actually did it. It took me 2 diff sanrio stores to find the necessary components. i made a few changes. Note the pink tube so u wont notice the smoke stained plastic. I used a glass bowl i had in a junk drawer for 7 years! the blue matched the flowers perfectly. I drilled a carb over the copyright mark on the back. My girlfriend never smokes but couldnt say no this one! thanks for a good joke! i bet you could sell these things though!

So, thanks for following us down the rabbit kitty hole, Dane. Two-twenty applauds your improvements upon our original concept by using a pink tube, and appreciates you for proving what our initial testing indicated: no one, not even those who gave up the wacky tabbacky long ago because even the smallest hit induces an oh-fuck panic attack, can resist the lure of The Kitty.

P.S.
We neglected to mention in our original How-To that unless you go Dane's alternate route, you'll also need a "down tube with bowl" to insert into the plastic sleeve (fashioned, as you no doubt remember, from the Hello Kitty Flower Power Rocket Eraser Pack) in front of Kitty's nose. The only advantage to the "down tube" design is that it negates the need to drill a second hole for use as a "carb". We do, however, note that Dane's technique just happens to do away with the Sanrio copyright stamp...

black and white and red in the face • post/haste

There's a bit of a brouhaha brewing between NYC media Goliath the Gray Lady and David-come-lately (and freely) amNewYork. Seems that the Sunday Times yesterday "broke" a story about alleged improprieties within the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island Foundation, including an astronomically high salary for the non-profit's head and an unwillingness to use monies on hand to re-open the statue to tourists.

The problem? Free daily-diversion-cum-homeless-person's-mattress-stuffing amNewYork has reported the developing story on at least three previous occasions, including a front-page expose on March 31st of this year. The Times made no mention of that, and in a follow-up piece today referenced previous reporting with only the following sentence: "The New York Times reported yesterday that delays by the Park Service and reluctance by the foundation to spend its money have prevented the statue's reopening, two and half years after the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attack forced the closing of major American landmarks."

Two-twenty is not here to champion the cause of struggling underdog amNewYork. In fact, usually when we think of this media outlet at all, it is because we are pointing and laughing at it. Case in, um, point: their cover story a couple of weeks ago about a company soliciting investors for their launch as the nation's first legal and publicly-traded producer of medicinal marijuana. An intrepid amNewYork editor apparently decided that only a shot of company President Warren Eugene standing amongst his wares would provide the, er, high drama required. Alas, Warren was interviewed in a Manhattan hotel room, as opposed to at a covert Canuck cannabis cultivation colony. An intrepid amNewYork photog's solution? Throw the man between a couple bamboo plants in the hotel lobby and ask him to look a little bit "out of it". That'll fool 'em!

We hear rumors that if you smoke enough bamboo leaves there does in fact exist a small chance that you may get a little high, but the sensation will probably result more from the decreased flow of oxygen to your brain as you are passing out rather than from any specific hallucinogenic compound found in the leaves themselves. Like when you made each other faint back in junior high, remember?

Anyway, regardless of mistakes that may have been made, or self-destructive projects that may have been inspired, amNewYork does not deserve to have good (or at least timely) investigative journalism on its part ignored just because they are a red-headed step child. Our two-part call to the gray-haired maven? First, 'fess up. Second, never, ever again allow someone to write 1,000+ words about the 'dilemma' men face when asked to hold their girlfriend's purse. If you'd been paying any attention, you'd know that men now have their own purses to carry, thank you very much, but will be glad to hold yours so long as you return the favor the next time they want to gance, unecumbered, with their friends that are boys.

U.S. Begins Inquiry on Use
of Statue of Liberty Gifts | NY Times
amNewYork | nynewsday.com

practice makes purrrfect • post/haste

Vanessa Grigoriadis reports in New York Magazine that socialite/"author" Plum Sykes takes digital photos of herself in different outfits before heading out in them. "You have to," she says, "otherwise how will you know how you'll appear in party photographs?".

Two-twenty can't help but recall how Cher, in Clueless, shot her outfits on polaroid because she "[doesn't] trust mirrors". A case of one-ups-manship? Like, whatever. One thing though: if Plum wants to project her animal magnetism, her fierceness, we humbly suggest she work a little harder on her growly come-hither look. Work the mouth a little, you know? And maybe her fierce claw motion should look more like an invitation to pleasure -- less like she's taking someone's, um, measure.

(photo via New York Social Diary)

(P.S. to Plum: we're pretty sure that's a zebra stripe you're sporting, not a tiger. Zebras are quiet, pretty animals. Be like the Zebra.)

build gates • post/haste

On April 6th, The Metropolitan Museum of Art will present "Christo and Jeanne-Claude: The Gates, Central Park, New York", an exhibition detailing the couple's plan to adorn NYC's green oasis with saffron-hued fabric panels.

For those of you who, like Joanna, were once so inspired by Christo's earlier work that you wrapped your childhood bedroom in duct tape thereby preventing your mother from entering when "quiet time" was over, there's even better news: you can volunteer to be among the thousands of New Yorkers they'll need to complete the project.

pity the fools • post/haste

This will be two-twenty's last post ever.

Yeah, yeah, we're full of shit. April Fool's and all that.

We tried to think of a clever prank, we really did. But then we stopped thinking.

So, as we see it, the joke's on us.