two-twenty

smell it and... um... right • post/haste

"Vulva original is not a perfume: it's a beguile va-gyn-al scent which is purely a substance made for your own smelling pleasure."

V U L V A (NSFW if you are American)

nick burns on nicks and razor burn • post/haste

Shaving With Five Blades When Maybe Two Will Do | New York Times

stella mccartney mania | joanna • post/haste

H&M clothing is like crack: it's cheap, provides a short, intense high, and, over time, becomes a regrettable addiction difficult to break. Stella McCartney's collection for H&M is like cocaine: it's "chic", a bit more expensive, and, apparently, everyone in New York is openly doing it.

As a recovering H&M addict, I generally limit my forays to the shop(s) for essentially disposable accessories, namely, the wide black hair elastics, and the stockings (fishnet, opaque, sheer, whatever), but the siren song of Miss Stella proved too difficult to ignore. I swear, I tried to stay away, and even attempted to solicit dissuasion from my friend Liz in the form of an e-mail: "I try to stay out... but they keep pulling me back in." Her response? "Well... this is special! And worth it!"

Fully enabled, I arrived at the H&M on 34th and Herald Square at around 11:30. I knew Lagerfeld's collection sold out in minutes, but Stella's? Surely not.

Gone. Seriously. Everything but some ridiculous bikini with a rhinestone encrusted triangle bra that to any woman with a cup-size bigger than an A looks like two pasties conveniently connected by a string (you know, so you don't lose one of them). Apparently, there were women lined up at the Herald Square shop at 8AM. Okay.

At this point, I'm jonesing. I remembered that there's another H&M on 34th and 7th. I walk in, and there are, I don't know, 100 women standing by the escalator. At first I thought they were in line to check out. No. They were waiting for the next shipment of coke merchandise.

Suddenly, the escalators switch directions, and like highly suggestible lemmings, the more optimistic junkies glide upstairs, albeit wearing utterly confused expressions. Others see the escalator flip-flop as a ruse and remain downstairs. At this juncture, I'm no longer interested in the clothing; I am utterly fascinated by how strangely everyone is behaving.

The traffic flowing upstairs allowed more people to gather in the allocated Stella section...

...inciting the ladies who went up to return downstairs.

When I left, there were about 200 women still waiting. According to a clerk behind the counter, the shipment would be arriving within minutes, and would be the last of the day.

Still curious, I returned to the Herald Square shop. It was dead. I approached one of the workers there to inquire about future shipments. According to her, the Herald Square Store will get more product in at 8AM tomorrow morning, and the 7th Avenue shop is due to replenish at 3PM and 8PM today.

I'm not going back. Can't do it. Not giving in to the Scandinavian ski demons. No no no.

But if you see the blue dress — is it a dress? I don't care, whatever it is in the window — in a size 8, can you get it for me? And those boots, too, if they even sell them, in a size 7.5. Yeah, those. I'll pay you back. I promise.

metrosexual or gay-vague? • post/haste

Hey, come on down, it's time for two-twenty's very first Style Section Quiz, in which we test your ability to determine whether a celebrity is metrosexual or gay-vague!

Let's see how you did!

the two-twenty guide to new york for australians • post/haste

your accent

When you first move to New York City, you will not be understood by everyone. You will find this frustrating, especially when your New Yorker friends translate your excruciatingly simple phrases to people whose accents you can clearly comprehend. Please remember that though Australia has produced some terrific films that Americans love (and understand), Hollywood's missionaries converted you first, and hard.

Eventually, your accent will go the way of Mel Gibson's -- for which your friends back home will taunt you endlessly. In the meantime, know that chicks in New York think that guys with Australian accents are sexy, while the opposite is true for Ozzie women, unless you look and sound like Nicole Kidman.

Oh, and if someone thinks you're British here, it's a compliment. Americans, and New Yorkers, think people with British accents are superior. Two-twenty hypothesizes that this is the national equivalent of wanting to sleep with a smug, happily-married ex you dumped in high school.

words and abbreviations

New Yorkers do not have the same panache for abbreviating words as you. Sure, we try, but rarely do we succeed. Generally -- and it's better this way -- we leave the pastime to our Outback -- America. That's where Deborah, that woman you just met, was called Debbie until she packed up for the Big Apple. Our collective talent lies more in inspiring Deborah to pronounce Target "Tar-Jay." This works very much in your favor: since you come from a far-away land, teaching a New Yorker that MacDonalds is called Maccas will be met with appreciative giddiness. We enjoy the irony of faux-sophistication, and like to know things others don't (it makes us feel British). So please teach us your shortenings and sobriquets. We can not understand you otherwise, at least initially.

Hmm. You don't have to tell us about "thongs", though. We like when men talk about their thongs. Well, Joanna does.

miss/ma'am

The only time it is acceptable to call a New York woman "Ma'am" is if she has let her hair gone grey. If her hair is grey from old age, she will not take umbrage, having long embraced her erstwhile "Miss" status; if her hair has gone grey prematurely and she has not colored it, you have done a good deed and provided her with a much needed impetus to go to the salon. Do not call a woman with less than half-an-inch of grey roots Ma'am unless you are mean.

tipping

You are expected to pay at least 20% on top of your bill. Anything less means you were dissatisfied with your meal and/or service. The repercussions can be brutal. Note that the 20% rule also applies to a bar tab. If you pay as you go, the minimum gratuity is $1 a drink.

portion sizes

Even if you have seen Super-Size Me, you will be astonished by how large portions are here. Especially drinks. A general rule of thumb: large=small, unless you're in a movie theater (cinema), where small=child size.

Shots are also large, by the way, but we imagine that will be a surprise too pleasant to question.

australian for beer

For as long as Americans who have lost brain cells from drinking beer can remember, Fosters has aggressively sought to persuade us that their beer is all you guys drink. Therefore, do not be surprised if New Yorkers welcome you to our land with a can (tin) of it. We are trying to make you feel at home. Our resident Aussie suggests Brooklyn Lager as an alternative to your beloved VB, or perhaps a Bud.

light beer

Because Americans are fat alcoholics, light beer in New York has the same amount of alcohol (nearly, anyway), but fewer calories than regular beer. No, it does not taste as good.

Not even Sam Adams Light.

fighting

If you find yourself in a situation where fisticuffs seem imminent, issue a final threat in the broadest Aussie accent you can muster. New Yorkers think Australians are rough; you'll never have to throw a punch.

first trip to the supermarket

Due to limited space, New York supermarkets are comparably tiny to the supermegacrazymarkets found elsewhere in this country. Nonetheless, you will find a dazzling array of food and drink and god-knows-what-else in colorful packages with descriptions of their contents written in English. Many of you will be compelled to buy these victuals and potables for sheer amusement value. By all means, do. New Yorkers tend to behave similarly when abroad in America. Just, please, do not leave them at your New Yorker-friend's house, to whom that candy you thought was really fucking weird and funny is just really fucking gross.

That's all for now. Let us know if we missed anything, mate.

iMake iPorn iN iStudio • post/haste

Porn Director's Cut

05/01/2005 - 12/30/2005

Designed for aspiring XXX film-makers, rock stars and heiresses (and actors and, really, just about anybody), this bulging package includes accommodation in an iStudio guestroom outfitted with Apple's top of the line iMac G5 computer, iSight web cam (with iChat), iPod and BOSE Sound Dock.  In addition, the Director's Cut Package comes with a Sony HandyCam Digital Video Camcorder for you to use during your visit. 

Take movies of your action in the hotel (or around NYC, if you're into that).  After you finish filming, come back to the iStudio and use the iMac G5 to edit your film.  By using the iLife software (pre-installed in your G5) including iPhoto, iMovie, iDVD, iTunes and GarageBand, you can make your cock look bigger, cut the scene of you answering your cellphone, and even lay a soundtrack to your movie.

At the end of your stay, use the G5 to burn a DVD of your finished movie to take home, leak to the internet, or even submit to Vivid!

iStudio | Tribeca Grand Hotel

web-based ephemera: ephemeral edition • post/haste

• A gallery of 80’s era flyers from dance club/performance space Danceteria. Also features an enjoyable introductory sound snippet from “Rudolph”, “the head bimbo at Danceteria”. Danceteria Flyers (via boingboing).

• Ahh, the joy of discovering a new catty celebrity blog. Must be akin to the feeling lindsayism gets when she comes across a particularly awful girly blog. Well, to each his own intoxicant. Witness the new-to-us Conversations With Famous People. Last Sunday was a good day for posts over there, including the two gems excerpted below.

Re: Star “You got your chocolate in my peanut butter” Jones and Al “I prefer chunky style” Reynolds:

As Gal [that’s short for “Gay Al” – ed.] pranced around the hotel room in a silk dressing gown trimmed in ostrich feathers, listening to the strains of Liza Minelli's greatest hits, Starlet took a bath dipping herself in ugly and deep frying her body in a glistening vat of pomposity. Link.

Re: Brit-nay ‘n K-Fed:

Me n' Kev, we's been married five whole munts! Let's see, we gotted married in September, how many is that, y'all? I don't know! I don't have to count, thats what I got Kev for! He's so smart. He can chew Skoal and smoke cigarettes at the same time as putting his pants on. Hands off, y'all. He's mine! Link.

• An interesting story about the neuroscience of marketing, including this frightening but all-too believable statement by 28-year-old Caltech researcher Anette Asp: "We think there are branded brains." Searching for the Why of Buy. (The link is to a free version of the story at yahoo news – originally it came to us from the LA Times by way of adland.)

• A funny site dedicated to abysmally bad or just plain funny query letters received by a couple of Hollywood producers (or wannabe producers, or aspiring comedians, or people with too much time on their hands… we have no idea): Query Letters. A recent winner: I want sharks with frickin' laser beams attached to their heads! (Thanks, Tommy, for the link.)

• We are not sure exactly what happened to eurotrash, except that she seems to be ailing, or has ailed, from a collection of obscure 19th century medical conditions. Our diagnosis? Feminine hysteria and general uppity-ness. We hope she gets better. We agree with her opinion that both Martha Stewart (profit from crime: $60,000) and the young lady who served 16 years for carrying 4 oz. of blow from the Bronx to Albany (profit from crime: $2500) both got screwed by The Man. The Man’s profits from crime over the years? I would break my keyboard if I repeatedly hit “0” that many times.

best. correction. ever. • post/haste

Spotted on page 2 of today's NY Times Sunday Styles section:

Correction
An article last Sunday about sororities at Harvard characterized Daedalus erroneously. It is not a campus organization, and not all-male. It is a pub in Cambridge, Mass.

Call us crazy, but once you get past the whole "it's not a campus organization" part, do you have to rub salt in your own wound with the "not all-male" admission as well? Maybe it's cathartic, like that time in 10th grade when you didn't feel entirely right with the Lord after confessing to your parents that you spent the weekend not, in fact, at a church group retreat but rather at a three-day rave, so you came clean about having lost your virginity to a ketamine dealer, too. One would have thought you'd learned your lesson after that fiasco...

Corrections: For the Record | NY Times
For Some Women at Harvard, Greek Is a Scream | NY Times

planned obsolescence, part ii: darwinism at work • post/haste

This is too much. During our morning perusal of the gawker media empire today, we learned from the nattering wonkette that FOX news talking head Sean Hannity has started a conservative dating service on his website, called "Hannidate". Faster than you can say "double click", we were there.

Below are some sample pics with excerpts from the personal ads. One of them's a fake. Can you spot it?

Krista

I love this country and I support our President. I saw him three times this past year, twice on the campaign trail and once at the inauguration. I cried when Reagan died...one of my favorite books is "I love you, Ronnie"…

Mark

I am a 49 year old truck driver. Divorced… looking for a LADY, 45 to 55 years old, no tatoos, no body piercings except ears, but most importantly NOT LIBERAL… [caps his]

David

I'm 41 and have never been married. I work in Customer Service in Lansing, Michigan. I also have a background working in computer information services… My musical tastes are rather eclectic, basically anything except hip hop.

Elaine

I think Jeff Gannon is hot, and I’m not afraid to say it! His politics are so… tumescent. So what if he likes dudes… I’m open to, well, the possibilities, Jeff… wink!

Susan

I am 55 and live in a little house in the woods with my 2 cats.

Don't feel bad, we can't spot the fake one either, and we wrote the damn thing. Below is what appears to be the most viewed, or at leat one of the most viewed, profiles (we didn't check every page - even we don't have that much spare time on our hands). Draw your own conclusions:

Alayna

Me: I'm 25, Christian and Republican… I'm currently learning how to like reading…You: Must enjoy long walks on the beach, candlelit dinners, and cozy evenings with a smoldering fire in the fireplace... I'm only teasing... or am I!? :) … I'm a firm believer that the man is the head of the household, so I'm very traditional, and as a strong woman, would need an even stronger man... He must demonstrate the following qualities in no particular order: intelligence, good judgment, leadership, honesty, responsibility, sensitivity, tenderness, excitement, romance, good humor, even temperament, creativity, cleaning abilities, cooking abilities, and telepathy (for when I'm mad at him). (* List of character qualities may increase without notice).
Viewed: 2297 times.

Hannidate | Hannity.com
Sean Hannity: One Anchor To Do Them All | wonkette

just zissou it | alex • post/haste

A craigslist poster in Seattle wants you to know that yeah, he bought Team Zissou Adidas, but don’t worry, he “gets it”:

Post-Modern Tragedy

Today is the day when the historians(*1) will report me as turning from a "kinda hip guy" to "hipster trash".
For my Team Zissou Adidas have come in. I don't care what they say(*2). I think the shoes have a certain je ne sais quoi(*3).
I shall wear them at home. I shall wear them at work. I shall wear them walking. Talking. Sitting. Standing. (*4)

You will notice that the above text is seeded with numbered asterisks. These serve a double purpose: they indicate that the poster has read David Foster Wallace, and also refer to “Tangents” the poster added beneath the main text, about his barely-suppressed inward desire to be “hip” (as he puts it) and his engorged outward desire to repudiate any suggestion that he might appear in any way beholden to the concept of “hipness”. Well, that’s what the original “Tangents” seemed to be about anyway. They were all lies. We corrected them for you:

* Tangent 1: Sometimes when I say “history” instead of “herstory” my girlfriend beats me. Woman-friend! I mean partner! I mean—Oww!
* Tangent 2: Mind starts playing, "I don't care (*A) what they say anymore this my life. Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone". Thoughts of Forrest Gump and Honey I Shrunk The Kids: The TV Show. (*B)
* Sub-Tangent A to Tangent 2: Well, I mean, I care enough to post about it to craigslist, but not an iota more than that!
* Sub-Tangent B to Tangent 2: This “Tangent” is unedited simply because there is nothing more cruel or incriminating than the fact that I just referenced Billy Joel, “Forrest Gump”, and “Honey I Shrunk the Kids: The TV Show”(*i) within the framework of “hipness”.
* Sub-Sub-Tangent i to Sub-Tangent B: Must remember-- “Three’s Company”: hip. “Small Wonder”: hip! “Benson”: v. v. hip! “Honey I Shrunk the Kids: The TV Show”: NOT hip!
* Tangent 3: My parents paid an extraordinary amount for my education and all I have to show for it is one French phrase, a somewhat muddled understanding of the concepts of “Post-Modern” and “Tragedy”, genital herpes, and a really scratched up copy of Pearl Jam’s “Ten”.
* Tangent 4: These are all euphemisms for masturbating.

Today’s lesson: no amount of pre-emptive irony can protect you from your own glorious bellyflop across the line separating clever from stupid. Today’s sub-lesson: beware the well-intentioned post to craigslist-- it has been the undoing of greater men than you! Ow! And women! Oww!

Side Note: In case you were wondering, after many discussions, arguments and near fistfights I have come to the unfortunate conclusion that “The Life Aquatic” is not a good movie. A truly enjoyable theater experience, to be sure, because Wes Anderson is very smart, clever, visually and conceptually inventive, has good taste in music and most assuredly shares a common cultural history with me. However, because this film lacked the framework of strong characters or even a compelling story to hang all of this talent from, it lapsed into a pastiche of amusing caricatures and sketches. Hopefully his next project will mark a return to the top-notch sense of story and character that marked “Rushmore” and "Tenenbaums".

In keeping with the lateral thinking theme of this post, a Side Note to Side Note: “The Life Aquatic” made me wonder if Wes Anderson isn’t in danger of becoming the iPod of directors: we idolize his form and drool slavishly at the altar of his iconic coolness, but sooner or later, as our batteries die and our screens go dead, we are forced to ask: does the substance truly live up to the style? Or, perhaps, is the style enough for us?

(Full disclosure: I adore Wes Anderson. And my iPod. And David Foster Wallace! So shoot me.)

Post-Modern Tragedy | craiglist.org (via gawker)

we report: jesus died for your sins. you decide: do you want to go to hell, or not? • post/haste

This Sunday, FOX News goes baby crazy. Baby Jesus crazy, that is! In their own words: "FOX News Channel explores the mystery of Jesus' early life, from his miraculous birth to the controversial 'missing years'." In other news: new study shows Americans hate Muslims. Oddly, the study also indicates that the more Americans watch television news, the more they consider Muslims worthy of second-class citizen status. Go figure!

The Birth of Jesus - Sun. 9pm/Mid ET | FOXNews.com

ryan seacrest's personal advice columnist • post/haste

Who the eff is Alan Goldsher? Well, according to his MSN byline he is a sort of modern day Renaissance man:
 
Alan Goldsher's advice columns have garnered a cult following of satisfied singles and the recently coupled. Alan - who, as a bassist, has recorded with Janet Jackson and Digable Planets - is the author of the novels "Jam" and "The Record Haus," as well as the book, "Hard Bop Academy: The Sidemen of Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers." Visit Alan at www.alangoldsher.com, or ask him your question at askalan@match.com.
 
(By all means, please do visit Alan. While you're there, you can sign his guestbook, a place for "Shoutouts, props, whaddups, and the like".)
 
According, however, to any sort of objective reading of this piece on today's msn.com start-up page, Alan Goldsher is, put simply, a girl. Either that, or phrases such as "getting dumped is heinous", "squishing his heart", and "big-time passive/aggressive treatment" have escaped from the pages of Cosmo and found a new home in the male psyche.

let the blood bath begin • post/haste

Today, the fifth of May, marks not only the anniversary of the 5 billionth drunk Mexican (or something), but also the beginning of New York City's newest media war: the battle of the bird cage liners. Yes, today AMNewYork's new competitor the  New York Metro paper hit the streets (we're not sure of their web site-- newyorkmetro is rather, uh, taken, and frankly we couldn't be troubled to look much further than that). No word yet on Vegas oddsmakers' take on the situation, but two-twenty can report the following:

At 34th and Park two pushers of the Metro paper had strategically placed themselves between that busy intersection and the entrance to the downtown 6 train at 33rd. Flustered AMNewYork slingers huddled at the bottom of the station's stairs, passing out their product to loyal customers and trying in vain to shove a second piece of crap into the hands of those poor souls who had already been accosted just moments before. Tensions appeared high. However, at 14th St./Union Square's popular southwest corner exit, sales associates representatives from both media empires stood at the top of the stairs, in close proximity, offering their wares with hands stained equally black by the smudge-prone ink of solidarity. Perhaps not chummy, but certainly not combative. AMNewYork and the Metro paper: the"Hatfields and McCoys" of free dailies, or the Donald Rumsfeld and c.1980's Saddam Hussein of worthless rags? Only time will tell.

'METRO' Free Tabloid Prepares Launch in New York City | adage.com

Metro Launches Daily in Crowded NYC Market | mediainfo.com

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.

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!

drikbd good brain • post/haste

we beer. vdkaaa too.

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

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).

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!

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

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.)

gance fever • post/haste

There's really only one lesson to be learned here: Ryan Seacrest is so rabidly desperate for press that, in order to garner some column-inches, he will claim to be part of a fake trend which involves men pantomiming the act of giving birth to one another on the dancefloor. Either that, or he quite literally has performed "The Lumberjack" with a boy friend (that's a friend who's a boy, silly, not like a boyfriend or anything!). Just what is this "Lumberjack", you ask? Allow Stuff Magazine to explain:

Gancer No. 1 stands in the middle of the dance floor with arms raised to indicate that they are branches and he is a tree. Gancer No. 2 pretends to be holding an ax and hacks away at the fleshy tree. Gancer No. 1 bends backward until finally toppling—trust fall–style—into gancer No. 2’s arms. Gancer No. 2 catches the tree, throws him into the air again and, together, they start boogying wildly.

Lovely. And, dare we say it? Manly. Very manly.

Everybody Gance Now! | Stuff Magazine
MALE-DANCE FEVER: JUST KIDDING, GUYS | Page Six

Wait, there is one more lesson to be learned here. Before you go off declaiming about an absurd new trend, take a look at your calendar. Put your finger on the date April 1. Now count out ten days in either direction (this is easy to remember because it is same number as how many digits you have on your hands. That means fingers). Shade that whole block of dates in with your favorite crayon. Now, if you have learned about this absurd new trend that has your panties in a knot on a date that is shaded in, DO NOT WRITE ABOUT IT. You will thank us in the morning.

Metrosexual Morons Gancing the Night Away | MensNewsDaily.com

take that, you meanie! • post/haste

Richard Simmons -- our favorite exercise guru and fashion muse -- justifiably slapped a fellow passenger as they waited to board an LA-bound plane in Phoenix after the big bully-head snidely remarked, "Hey everybody. It's Richard Simmons. Let's drop our bags and rock to the '50s."

Poor Richard. He is so misunderstood. We're just happy he was allowed to return home to the comfort of his one-of-a-kind contemporary doll collection. Oh, yeah, and that despite Richard's Herculean strength, the insolent fucker emerged from the scuffle unharmed.

Richard Simmons Cited for Slapping Man | Yahoo! News

god is sooooooo 1954 • post/haste

Yesterday, an unprepossessing emergency room doctor / non-practicing lawyer from California laid the smackdown on the rise of right wing religious political influence in America. He did so by effectively, and with Orwellian clarity of language, arguing against the inclusion of the phrase "under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance. The admittedly non-denominational but gratuitously religious insertion was made by Congress in 1954, in a move now widely regarded as an attempt to distinguish America from the 'Godless communists' that we were then so ferociously engaged in battle against.

The doctor-cum-lawyer in question, Michael A. Newdow, appears to be one smart cookie, but his mission is aided by the simple fact that there does not, in fact, exist any logical or even coherent argument for retaining the phrase. Further bolstering Dr. Newdow's case was the fact that the opposing counsel, Solicitor General Theodore B. Olson, is a blithering, jargon-spewing idiot. Let's take a look at a sampling of the goings-on, and see if we can't parse things a bit (all excerpts taken from the NY Times transcript):

JUSTICE JOHN PAUL STEVENS Do you think that the pledge has the same meaning today as when it was enacted - when the words, under God, were inserted into the prayer, into the pledge? (ed. umm... love it when Freudian slips sew your case up for you in the first five minutes!)

MR. OLSON It's an important question because the reference to under God in the pledge, as numerous decisions of this court have indicated in dicta, what as a part of a thought process of coming about to the conclusion that it is an acknowledgment of the religious basis of the framers of the Constitution, who believed not only that the right to revolt, but that the right to vest power in the people to create a government became, came as a result of religious principles. In that sense, the Pledge of Allegiance is today, that has that same significance to this country as it did in 1954 when it was amended.

Okay whoa whoa whoa let's stop here. First of all, "It's an important question because..."!? That's like how we used to start our essays in fifth grade. We'll let you marvel at the absurdity of the language without our help, but we cannot give Olson a bye on his shameless attempt to connect the founding fathers (who did NOT include "under God" in the pledge) with McCarthy-era Quislings (who most certainly did) through the most amateurish of associative "logic". Anyway...

JUSTICE RUTH BADER GINSBURG Your argument is that there's a stronger case now than there would have been 50 years ago?

MR. OLSON Yes, Justice Ginsburg, and that is for many reasons, for -- because of the reason that I just made, but also because the Congress revisited this issue in 2002 after the decision below in this case. There are findings in the record which are a part of the brief, with respect to what the -- what the pledge means, the context of the pledge in its historical context, in the connection with its civic invocation, its ability to invoke certain principles that are indisputably true, which gave rise to the institutions which have given us freedom over all this period of time.

Translation: blah blah blah FREEDOM blah. Don't you love how people who want to impose their views on the rest of us are the first to throw around buzzwords like "freedom" and "liberty"? If the word "ironic" wasn't so played out right now we would use it here to describe the odd disconnect between what these people say and what they mean. Seriously, if this guy thought he could interject something about the "War on Terror" he certainly would. Blech. It is at least somewhat heartening, in a cruel mean-spirited sense, to see that Mr. Olson cannot construct a complete sentence to save his life or, quite literally, his God.

In contrast, let's take a look at a question asked of Dr. Newdow, and his response:

JUSTICE KENNEDY Well, now, it -- it -- let's suppose, I thought the case turned on whether this was a religious exercise.

MR. NEWDOW I think it definitely is [a religious exercise], and it is because the two words are, under God, and I can't see of anything that's not religious, under God... It fails the endorsement test, it fails the outsider test. Imagine you're this one child with a class full of theists and you have this idea that you want to perhaps at least consider and you have everyone imposing their view on you, it fails every test this Court has ever come up with, and there's a principle here and I'm hoping the Court will uphold this principle so that we can finally go back and have every American want to stand up, face the flag, place their hand over their heart and pledge to one nation, indivisible, not divided by religion, with liberty and justice for all.

Dr. Newdow must have felt like he was shooting fish in a barrel.

Atheist Presents Case for Taking God From Pledge | NY Times
Excerpts From Arguments on the Meaning of "Under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance | NY Times

special delivery from mr. stiff • post/haste

East New York sexagenarian Mr. Stiff tried to kill three policemen by dropping a bowling ball on them from his terrace on the 17th floor. The Times explains that New Yorkers are so fond of chucking things at cops from above that these projectiles are referred to as "airmail". Mr. Stiff had more ammo at the ready, but was arrested for attempted murder, attempted assault, reckless endangerment, and criminal possession of a weapon before he could try again. As usual, his neighbors thought he was a happy guy. Maybe because he had a hobby.

Bowling Ball From 17th Floor Narrowly Misses 3 Officers | NY Times

make your kitty purr • post/haste

For those of you who do not indulge in the "420", to drop a little craigslist science, yet still would like to incorporate a brand aimed at Japanese jailbait into your, um, recreational activities... may we present the Hello Kitty Vibe. If ebay isn't your bag, baby, this company (nsfw) claims to have them in stock, and even offers a discount if you buy three or more. Oh, the possibilities... kind of gives new meaning to the SANRIO company motto: "Small gift, big smile."

zombies kill god dead • post/haste

Day of the Dead deposes The Passion of the Christ as king of the box office.

In a sense, this is like the end of Christianity destroying the beginning of Christianity, as the zombies of Armageddon de-throne the seminal event of Christ's death and resurrection. This points one towards Ouroboros, or the ancient symbol of a snake eating it's own tail, an iconic image used quite literally as well as structurally and thematically in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Coincidence? Two-twenty can practically hear the hoarse, centuries-old whisperings of Nostradamus, driven near-mad by the weight of the prophecy upon his tongue: "The dead shall rise from the earth to spit on the flayed corpse of the Son of God... The overall box office take for the top twelve will be $109.7 million, up 33% from the same weekend a year before... zombies will feast on the flesh of the Saviour... this will bring year to date box office revenues to $1.8 billion, up 3-4% over last year at this time." Must have been kind of confusing at the time, but thankfully it all makes sense now.

If you live in New York, and would like to show your support for the flesh-eating living dead in their final battle against all that is good, godly and wholesome in the world, consider showing up in Union Square on Wednesday evening for this event.

Weekend box office report | Hollywoodreporter.com

errata non grata • post/haste

Um, did anyone else notice that Elvis Mitchell, in today's lukewarm review of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, lists "all" the Charlie Kaufman scripts that have been made into films but neglects to mention Confessions of a Dangerous Mind? Not that it was a perfect film, but it was a good script and it was George Clooney's directorial debut and it was based on a popular television game show host who may or may not have been leading a double life as a contract killer. Doesn't that count for something these days, people?

As far as the rest of the review goes, to be honest it was about what two-twenty expected. We have not seen Spotless Mind, but look forward to doing so this weekend. The script was very nearly awe-inspiring in its structure, and the writing was of course taut and funny and poignant in an off-kilter sort of way simply by virtue of being the work of the inarguably talented Mr. Kaufman. How his work translates to the screen is always the question... we like to think that Michel Gondry is up to the task (after struggling to get his sea legs in Human Nature). Mr. Mitchell seems to give Kaufman and Gondry's second effort an unqualified, "eh... not so bad."

'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind': Washing That Girl Out of His Head |NY Times

we're fucking tired • post/haste

Two-twenty's going to take a little nap, now.

Here're some celebrities swearing to amuse you while we rest (via popbitch).

surrounded by assholes: truth in advertising edition • post/haste

So, this morning whilst paging through the front section of the Times over a cup of Oren's Daily Roast, two things struck two-twenty. Three actually, but our opinion on the bombing in Baghdad is about as useful as Ben Affleck's opinion on, well, anything.

Item the first: hottt!! new t-shirt for you kids out there who are too kewl for the now clearly played "Voting is for Old People" t-shirt (banned at Urban Outfitters but available now on ebay for, let's see, $31.50 as of 9am EST): a Bloomingdales colorectal cancer T! You can see it here if you click on the "Fight Cancer" tab on the left. It's not distressed, but it is overpriced, and more importantly is modeled by Colin Farrell and Mandy Moore and features a big bright shining star on the chest... hmm, hold on a sec. Is it just us or has the star symbol been used to allude to a certain... nope, it's not just us according to The Asshole King (er, no dangerous graphics but not really work safe in spirit. Unless maybe you are an ass doctor, or a professor of ass-ology). This line of reasoning is further supported by Kurt Vonnegut in his book "Breakfast of Champions", assuming you can make the logical step from an asterisk to a star (we have faith in our readers). So, there you have it. Show your support for the assholes of the rich and famous by displaying one on your shirt, and lament the fact that they come in Virginal Pink and Funky Green, but not, alas, in Skidmark Brown.

Item the second: a Cingular wireless ad. Headline: "With Cingular Nation, you never get charged for roaming or long distance." Cute, 'clever' reinforcement: little Cingular asterisk-like (!) spokesthing says "Never means never." Small print at bottom of page: "Calls placed outside calling plan area $.79 per minute."

elephants! in manhattan! • post/haste

We meant to post this earlier, but, unlike, uh, elephants, we're sometimes forgetful.

cat scratch fever • post/haste

Protect your furniture from kitty's claws with Soft Claw caps.

Or just use them to decorate the nails of the guitar you made from Snowball I (via the face).

ever dedicated to providing the ogle you googled • post/haste

The big Style Section cover story of this week's Times was about Google. Seeing as the search engine's already built in to almost every web browser, and that everyone, including self-proclaimed neo-luddites, is savvy enough to not only use the engine but the word "google" as a verb, the article's prominence seems a bit ridiculous, at least for old news. Still, without Google and it's occasional haphazard results, two-twenty would receive a hell of a lot less visitors than it does. We know because we are watching you. We are watching you because we care.

In general, the search strings that lead readers to two-twenty make perfect sense: we've waxed on about Rich girl Jamie Gleicher and her richer dad Leo, suggested Adam Mesh's net worth was above the Average Joe's, posted pictures of Elvis' fashion-model granddaughter Riley Keough, and yacked about Alexandra Kerry (and her father and the other Alexandra in their lives).

Other times the queries kinda make sense: we've declared our love for Mishal Hussain, but have no pictures of her nude, we've written about Jessica Simpson, though not her cosmetics line, Dessert, that a lot of people seem to think might be edible, and though like everyone else, we had something to say about Janet Jackson's display at the Superbowl, that was the only "nipple slip" we covered... until now,

Apparently all the world loves a good old flash of titties. We tried to expose (heh) the oft-queried Ally Hillfiger booby-shot, but like the hundreds of people who've visited two-twenty looking for evidence, we came up empty-handed (heh heh). Lucky for you, our dear nipple-slip seekers, we were finally able to locate another popular search: Nicole Richie's breast-baring antics on the runway of Joey & T's October 31st 2003 fashion show.

You can download the real video clip here.The Simple Life star flashes her assets just about four minutes in.

See, we told you we care!

over our dead bodies • post/haste

The Times reports that seven excess family-donated cadavers Tulane University's med school got rid of through the National Anatomical Service were sold by the company to the US Army -- for $25,000 to $30,000 a pop -- who used the bodies to test how shoes would hold up to land mines. Sure, the whole thing gives new, gory meaning to the term "crash test dummy," but what's with a company selling the dearly departed, for whatever reason, for that much cash? Two-twenty wonders, why not eliminate the middle man? Thirty grand could definitely offset the cost of the funeral, not to mention assuage a lot of grief.

Donated Bodies Used in Land Mine Tests | NY Times

Here's more on organ donation, including a tid-bit on how if you donate your body directly to the National Anatomical Service, they may charge you between $150 to $600 to ship grandma to their facility.

shaking it for a polaroid digital picture • post/haste

Andre 3000 of Outkast may have turned his attention to dressing women with the clothing line he shares with Big Boi, but he still finds time to head to the studio... to undress them.

In this session (so not work safe unless you're in porn), Andre checks out his subject's speakerboxx with a lot of love from below, above, the left, the right...

(And now, once again, two-twenty can not get "Hey Ya" out of our heads.)

via popbitch

killing time (and brain cells) with a vengeance • post/haste

We're not sure if it's because the global village idiots have officially taken over town hall, or if Americans have grown as bored with their citys' offerings as a kid at her mother's third wedding ceremony, but people are resorting to some bizarre activities to get out of the house. Two-twenty generally applauds innovation, but this latest spate of calculated distractions is so contrived that we've brainstormed some alternatives that we'd find just as fun, and often a lot more cost effective.

movieoke
East Village cineasts/exhibitionists are gathering weekly at Two Boots Den of Cin to recite dialogue from subtitles while scenes plays behind them.

two-twenty's movieoke
Buy a shitoad of Budweiser tall-boys and Michelob Ultra. Make Joanna drink the Michelob Ultra. Slip "Empire Strikes Back" into the old video tape player and ignore her clucks about it "not [being] the effing widescreen version!" -- she'll shut up once the crawl starts. Sit back, and listen as she recites every other line of the film. Drink another tall-boy when her babbling starts to annoy you: once Yoda hits the screen again you'll be laughing like a kid during her mother's third divorce.

staring contests
According to trendcentral, after a December screening of the film STAREMASTER: THE MOVIE at Pianos on the LES, "patrons rushed to the stage to create their own StareMaster contest". the rules are stringent, playground rules.

two-twenty's staring contests
Buy a shitoad of Budweiser tall-boys and Michelob Ultra. Commence staring contest. Joanna will be eliminated almost immediately due to hysterical fit of laughter. Let Alex and Ash duke it out until they require another beer. Turn on television and stare at that instead. Drink beer until convinced that television is staring back.

pornaoke
Thanks again for everything, Germany. On the last Wednesday of every month at Lucy's Hat Shop in Philly, participants provide the soundtracks to screened porn.

two-twenty's pornaoke
Buy a shitoad of Budweiser tall-boys and Michelob Ultra. Drink beer while watching Cinemax on demand "Max After Dark" movie. Barrage stone-faced Alex with dumb questions about Project Date-Our-Flatmate until he tells Ash and Joanna to "shut the fuck up".

chess boxing
This one hasn't hit New York yet to our knowledge, but it's a matter of time. In this Dutch invention, players alternate chess with boxing for a maximum of eleven rounds. The winner is determined by either a knockout or checkmate.

two-twenty's chess boxing
Buy a shitoad of Budweiser tall-boys and Michelob Ultra. Have Ash launch a computer chess game application and tell him there are beers in the refrigerator. Bring one to him when he asks. Let him play against the machine until he starts screaming "you fucking cheating monkey" so loudly that you can hear him from the other room. Go to any bar populated by suits just as happy-hour has turned ugly. Sit down at a table with a clear view of the bar and send Joanna to get drinks. Let Alex feign opposition to Ash's pugilistic instincts before averring that he's "got [Ash's] back". Watch the blood fly, then promptly exit.

rock paper scissors
Blame Canada. The 2003 Molson Canadian Rock Paper Scissors International Championships took place last October in Toronto featuring competitors from all over The States, including All Too Flat from New York, vying for world domination. You know the rules.

two-twenty's rock paper scissors
Run out of Budweiser tall-boys and Michelob Ultra. Commence competition to determine who will make beer run. Drink shitoad of Budweiser tall-boys and Michelob Ultra. Play again to determine how to kill rest of evening.

puppy love • post/haste

Some people love their animals. Some people love to play ball with their animals, and some people love to play with their animal's balls (not work safe). Others, it turns out, love their animals so much that they just want the little rascals to have balls they can be proud of, regardless of their, er, reproductive capabilities. The real beauty of prosthetic pet testicle suppliers Neuticles, however, is that they can provide you, the proud pet-owner, with a necklace, a bracelet, even a keychain that proudly displays exact replicas of your pet's gonads. Don't let the jesus freaks have all the fun with their crucifixion nail necklaces. Remember-- if they can worship GOD with their jewelery, surely you can worship DOG with yours.  

compassionate conservatives endorse hand-holding • post/haste

We here at two-twenty are so happy to hear that America's "leaders of tomorrow" are so respectful of the core values upon which our ever-evolving democracy is based. Values like Liberty, the Pursuit of Happiness, Equal Rights, and the Separation of Church and State.

The Home School Legal Defense Association, based at and closely affiliated with Patrick Henry College (an evangelical Christian college for home-schooled students), states its goal in a front page story today in the Times: to train Christian men and women "who will lead our nation and shape our culture with timeless biblical values." Some methods of accomplishing this goal include prohibiting male/female contact beyond hand-holding while walking (non-perambulatory students must step away from one another), monitoring all students' web activity, and enrolling few if any non-white students. Did we mention that 7 of the 100 current White House interns come from Patrick Henry College? We don't make this stuff up, people. Read it, and laugh through your tears.

College for the Home-Schooled Is Shaping Leaders for the Right | NY Times
School Rules, From VH1 to Hand-Holding | NY Times

as if their roles in voodoo rituals weren't enough • post/haste

Why did the chicken cross the road?

To get the fuck out of Haiti.

Aristide Calls for Calm After Six Killed in Haiti | Reuters via Yahoo! News

baghdad bigtop • post/haste

Just when we thought Iraq couldn't get any scarier, a bunch of clowns have decided to take a circus there.

Circus2Iraq began scaring the crap out of entertaining children of the war-torn country after realizing "People are traumatised, tired and worn down by years of war and sanctions and are still without many basic necessities, despite the obligations of the occupying powers to provide humanitarian items."

"We're not aid workers," their website says, "and, in any case, Iraq is a wealthy country which doesn't need charity. We think the best thing we can do is bring a bit of colour, a bit of normality, a bit of playfulness and make people smile.

Two-twenty would like to point out that there is nothing normal about clowns. That said, even our hard hearts were tempered by Fish Eye, Jo, and Devilstick Peat's humanitarian effort. We would like to suggest that in addition to the juggling scarves, red noses and kazoos they request on their wishlist, the following items might be of use:

• ringmaster trained by special forces
• armored clown car (it's a lot easier to get to the kids in one piece if you're protected by three inches of steel plating!)
• mine mattresses (clown shoes are kind of big!)
• multi-colored kevlar jumpsuits (the kevlar's for the bad guys, the pretty colors are for the kids!)

a cure for your listlessness • post/haste

Most of our readership is aware of The Black List (if you are not aware of said list, now is a good time to go check it out as this week's contributors are hurling invective like effing Pedro Martinez). Less of you may be aware of the black list, wherein an intrepid Kiwi blogger catalogues all of the things/people/concepts/colors/large sea-dwelling mammals that have been called "the new black" recently. A handy reference, to say the least.

turning the other buck • post/haste

According to the IMDb (Internet Movie Database), Mel Gibson's Jesus movie has incited a "new craze across America for Christian-themed jewelry." Uh huh. But it gets better. People -- Christians, we assume -- aren't just loading up on your garden variety crosses and whatnot, but are purchasing jewelry officially licensed by Mel's production company. IMDb reports that the pewter nail inscribed with Isaiah 53:5 is selling particularly well.

We at two-twenty would like to point out that you can not spell "jewelry" without "jew", that "Mel" rhymes with "hell", and that regardless of our Judeo-Christian backgrounds, we are Athiests with solid morals who think this is all very, very bad.

brother can you spare a dime bag? • post/haste

Dude, someone hook this guy up. He's a newlywed.

1996 Cristal Champagne to trade for 1/4 oz. good hydro

kerry likes to wear black pajamas, too! • post/haste

Well, that whole intern thing didn't seem to stick. What's a GOP flack to do now? Oooh, I know, turn Kerry's former comrades-in-arms against him by claiming that his anti-war sentiments were used to "torture" American POWs in Vietnam! Even better, insinuate that Kerry's publicizing of American war crimes incited the Vietnamese to even more brutal violence against the POWs! It's practically like he killed them himself!

This is in it's nascent stages, however some "reputable" news outlets have picked it up (see below). The FOXNews video no longer seems to be up but the google search shows it was there. Registration required for the LA Times article, but you can see some germaine quotes, as well as some pretty hardcore well-written right wing opinion, in the linked posts at the evangelical outpost.

John kerry's anti-war stance torture POWs search results | Google
Vietnam War Illuminates, Shadows Kerry's Campaign | LA Times
From Testimony to Torture: Kerry's Naiveté and the Betrayal of American POWs | the evangelical outpost
From Testimony to Torture (Part II): The Confirmation | the evangelical outpost

the whole goddamn paris hilton video - free! • post/haste

We feel very dirty. That is all.

Oh, one more thing, you'll need the latest DivXXX codec. Good luck trying to see the files on a Mac (we couldn't).

Downloads are here (use download link to disk), and are NOT locally hosted:

one
two
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five

and the media shall be cast into pools of fire • post/haste

Seven hyper-linked signs of the Apocalypse:

• This cutie got booted off of American Idol last night. Meanwhile, this guy is becoming a minor celebrity.

• Columbia options Neil Strauss' frightening expose of LA / Miami-based pirate-clown-pick-up-artist hybrid cult. For six figures. Vomit. Head spin. Vomit vomit. (Via Gothamist. And New Yorkish. Ok, and sort of via Low Culture. We've been meaning to get to this one for a couple days).

• Bonnie Tyler's Total Eclipse of The Heart is back at number one... in France (via Popbitch).

• No one was arrested and no one made out drunkenly with anyone else on episode 8 of Real World: San Diego.

• Barbie dumps Ken. As is always the case when high-profile couples split, suspicion falls on an Australian.

• There is going to be, for fifteen minutes anyway, a Lingerie Football League (via Best Week Ever)

• Gay men diss "breeder" Choire Sicha for cavalier use of the word "fag". Fucking drama queens.

auctioning off the blurry blue line • post/haste

Stealitback.com, the Police Auctions Online website, is currently offering a
Small Duffle Bag With Assorted Pilot Handbooks. "Learn something new!", the description reads. So far only one potential terrorist has taken what we sincerely hope is intended as bait.

two days late and quite a few dollars short • post/haste

So far this week two-twenty has failed miserably in what amounts to the only task we have set out for ourselves: parodying, creating something satirically inspired by, or otherwise snarkily deconstructing the Times Sunday Styles section… preferably on Monday. In our defense we would like to say that this week’s SS was really fucking lame. Perhaps this coming week’s will be better. Hahahahaha I doubt it. Anyways, without further ado, two-twenty presents this week’s Things We Learned:

Another British Isles band with the article The in their name has arrived in America wearing an inventive mix of vintage clothing and knowingly-referenced branded footwear! And scarves! Scarves are SO in. Speaking of which, SS says knitting is in again, which for the NYC hipster intelligentsia is an obvious indicator that the next trend is just getting ready to crest: tatting. Lace stockings: hott! Homemade lace doilies: v. v. hott!

Waterproof! Colorful! Synthetic! Think we’re talking about your favorite vibrator, “Elvis”? No. Rather, Pulse’s featured accessory this week: the L.L. Bean Adventure Tote. SS must have a particularly WASPy intern this month.

Bob Morris, in his “Age of Dissonance” column, writes about conspicuous rejection, or the art of flaunting one’s taste by dismissing the efforts of others. Mr. Morris is close here, for in fact up until a day or two ago blogging dismissively was quite the thing. Now, however, it’s all about displaying power, not taste or class. Making wildly inappropriate assumptions based more on an inflated sense of self-worth than on the facts is all the rage. A new breed of Machiavellian “talented tenth” Platonists are showing us self-indulgent, over-educated ironists what a dead-end trend we bought into. Why dismiss when you can destroy? Why undercut when you can overwhelm? And you know what really shows your audience who’s boss? Refusing to apologize or temper your former claims even when they have been publicly proven to have more to do with your entitled sense of superiority than with the actual situation on the ground (by “on the ground” we of course mean the LES).

In tangentially-related news: we are happy to report that Amy Lee, in “A Night Out With”, explained in a concise, no-nonsense manner why we do not need to listen to Evanescence in order to know we do not like their music: “Ms. Lee [lead singer of Evanescence]… is a classically trained pianist from Little Rock, Ark., who sings Goth ballads about suicide, betrayal and the afterlife over thrashing guitar and medieval choir arrangements. She moved to L.A. three years ago after she was signed to Wind-Up Records (known for bands with Christian appeal like Creed and Drowning Pool).”

But most important, of course, was the SS front page, top-of-the-fold story, all about the magic of Fashion Designers and their fantastical “mood boards”! “Mood boards” are pastiches of inspirational images, or what First- through Third-grade classrooms might term “collages”, and suburban families might term “refrigerators”. Fashion Designers are modern geniuses who use an alchemical process consisting of nothing more than hundreds of millions of dollars and some of the world’s most beautiful people to turn these “mood boards” into mystical vestments that people of a certain net worth and/or who have a certain vocabulary obsess over for a few weeks every year. It’s quite extraordinary, really. We here at two-twenty, alas, do not exist in the rarefied atmosphere necessary for the alchemy to occur. We do, however, have a refrigerator!

Coming soon! (Update: here they are!) Images that, were we Fashion Designers, would inspire us to create our ‘whimsical impulses in leather and tweed, inspired as much by the beat poets and the recent hit “You Got Served” as by the delicately portrayed indelicacies of Edwardian-era pornography’.

trunk sales to be renamed "treasure chests" • post/haste

Two-twenty loves pirates. We loved pirates WAY before they became a hott neuw trend. In fact, one of us is one, or at least was one for the better part of 2003 (the first part, not the second, pirate-laden part). If you had any doubt that the piracy trend had peaked and was starting to slide downhill, from Madison Avenue corner offices towards the absorbent vales of middle America, doubt no more:

Two-twenty's prediction for 2004's Halloween costume-cum-cultural meme: fairy princesses.

kiddie porn pics so fine, cursed cabinets for wine, it's on ebay! • post/haste

Christ on a fucking crutch, as if the Jews weren't getting enough bad press what with the whole Jesus killing thing blowing up in their faces. Now some poor antique dealer's friends, family, and customers are suffering from a cursed Jewish wine cabinet. Hey, wanna buy it?

salon against the blogosphere • post/haste

You know what's going to be really good? Maccer's ode to Eurotrash's parody of Vividblurry's ode to Neal Pollack's parody of Whatevs (et al)'s parodically-imagined collective ode to the Grammy's.

Hey yah! Anybody out there? | Salon

friends with benefits • post/haste

Craigslist's new(ish) strictly platonic personals section is turning into a repository for the odder and/or more desperate cl posters. Some examples:

• Painter needs female assistant, "must have cute butt". (Consensual ass-play is platonic, right?)
• Lovely ladies with no prior record and a lead foot - a young gentleman is in search of a partner in crime.
• Co-sign a loan for a hot Canadian chick! This is so totally on the level.

Then of course there are the dozens of 420 posts, most of which are m4w, most of which are written with the kind of spelling and grammatical errors indicative of being under the influence of "the pot", and most of which have a very simple subtext: 'Let's get high and then maybe you'll wanna fool around a little.' Example: "loveto smoke and would like to get togther with woen who like to smoke. so if this sounds cool then write back."

Mmmm... craigslist. Helping ass-fetishists, bankrobbers, scam artists and potheads 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

paris' new hobby: shopping herself • post/haste

"MOCK WARNING STICKER ON FRONT COVER OF BOOK: 'WARNING! IF YOU OPEN THIS BOOK YOU EXPOSE YOURSELF TO THE DANGEROUSLY FABULOUS LIFESTYLE OF PARIS HILTON. PROCEED AT RISK OF EXTREME ENVY - AND STRONG IMPULSE TO EMULATE.'

Did you really need the "MOCK"?

We are going to vomit.

our fabulous capital • post/haste

What stories are the "Big Three" (as defined by us) online national news outlets leading with at, oh, say, 2pm EST on a Wednesday?

Kerry rolls to 5 wins; success tied to Bush factor | MSNBC.com
Star witness testifies for 2nd day at Martha Stewart trial | CNN.com
Top Stories - Mass. Court: Gay Civil Unions Not Enough | FOXNews.com

Just curious. Incidentally, an excerpt from the FOXNews piece:

Massachusetts has one of the highest concentrations of gay households in the country with at 1.3 percent of the total number of coupled households, according to the 2000 census. In California, 1.4 percent of the coupled households are occupied by same-sex partners. Vermont and New York also registered at 1.3 percent, while in Washington, D.C., the rate is 5.1 percent.

No wonder Wonkette is always in such a bitterly snarky mood, must be awfully hard for a chick to get laid in that town (we assume she is straight or else she wouldn't make such cavalier jokes about blowjobs).

anonyblogging is the new weapons of mass destruction-related program activities • post/haste

Christopher Farah of Salon questions the "anonyblogger" phenom in today's "The Fix". At some point, however, editors made a correction which may help explain why Farrah takes issue:

A Feb. 4 article in The Fix misinterpreted a satirical item about George W. Bush written by the blogger Atrios. The item, a letter from a former maid of the president making outlandish allegations, was parody. Salon regrets the error.
[Correction made 02/04/04]

In other words, lighten up.

Two-twenty would like to, er, freely point out that we are not anonymous simply because we have nothing left to lose. Should one of us find steady employment involving health insurance and five figures beginning with a digit no smaller than seven, then this site will very quickly transform into a sycophant's love-letter, daily extolling the virtues of our new employer.

The Fix | Salon

we love courtney • post/haste

She's baaack.

One week before her new album, "America's Sweetheart", hits stores, Courtney Love has begun mouthing off to the press about whatever she damn pleases, including her intimate (and scientific!) knowledge of blow. The UK's Daily Mirror reprinted the following beaut from NME:

"I found out something really interesting about cocaine. The reason grown-ups get all the good stuff and whenever we touch it it's disgusting and makes our noses run, is because they took the ether out. So there's no point in even doing cocaine any more because there's no such thing."

"Everyone in England does coke but I'm here to tell you there's no ether in coke, so don't offer me a line unless you know some Colombian I don't."

If only she'd have told us before last week's assignment.

Need more Love in your life? Check out this oldie-but-goodie interview with NME featuring a brilliant, painterly discussion of when Courtney and Winona met The Strokes, listen to a track off "America's Sweetheart", or, our favorite, eyeball last year's Q Magazine bikini wax / naked-romp-through-London photo-shoot.

tori loves chachi: a $pelling production • post/haste

This past Autumn Tori Spelling and Charlie Shanian announced their engagement to the world. We missed the news, having been consumed by more important, more interesting things, like what kind of beer to order from Fresh Direct, how to keep our then-houseguest Tim from starting bar brawls, and re-learning html for the purpose of birthing our digital brainchild. Long awake from our solipsistic haze (though only on our third cup of coffee for the day) we rose to learn from Page Six that Tori and Charlie have set the date for August 14th, and have registered at Williams-Sonoma in an effort to assuage the disparity between the two families' bank accounts.

With the exception of the Professional Culinary Torch (sexy) and the Salter Nutrition Scale (so not-sexy), the registry reads like a 1950's hausfrau's response to the advice that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Or maybe how alter-ego Donna Martin might have prepared for her first stab at hosting Thanksgiving. (90210 flashback: didn't she marry David in the end after ditching that evil Ray-Pruitt-with-two-Ts? eh, doesn't matter, she definitely got laid before the show ended.)

As the Post cites, Tori's betrothed is a fellow thespian. Though we're far more interested in the couple's gifts than his, Charlie's voice-over reel provides a good minute of distraction... just like Tori's breasts.

the week that very nearly was • post/haste

Activities inspired by the Times Sunday Styles Section, or, 'Adventures in Home Journalism':

Two-twenty’s assignment for last week: retreat to our fabulous penthouse pied-a-terre and determine how long one can maintain our Hunter S. Thompson-meets-Tony Montana lifestyle without leaving the house.

Step1: call Slippy, our dealer. Slippy has some Afghani hash for $500 a brick. Briefly consider whether or not our actions are contributing to international terrorism or weapons of mass destruction-related program activities. Buy two. Get half ounce of White Widow for good measure.

Ask Slippy if he has anything more invigorating. He says no, but mentions that Britney was on the left coast this week and didn’t buy her usual supply of ‘Ludes from him. We’ll take ‘em. And the Oxycontin too. All of it.

Dial up sherry-lehman on the old tele-interweb, order three cases of Veuve and a case of ’00 Lafitte. Bribe a friend to deliver a case of Ketel One and two quarter pounders with cheese. After performing the promised sexual favors (Alex lost that coin toss), ask friend for phone