Hear a new Set In Motion track “Party Girl” on their myspace here.

Blogging is like dating. Like a total relationship and commitment. You really gotta like what you’re writing about or sleeping with or you’re screwed. Well, actually you’re screwed either way aren’t you. AUGH learning how to blog. I feel like I’m on a first date here, and I’m waiting to see what the blog does back. Hello Mr. Blog. What you got to say?

Every week I make a list. Not a grocery list or a to-do list, because I don’t really do groceries (Pad Thai take out, helloooo) and to-do lists are totally not my scene, if such a scene even exists. No, this list is a top ten-style countdown about the hard-hitting issues, like which mash-ups are the best ever.

This week, as a partner to The Ten Types of Guys at the Party, I’ve decided to include the female version. All in good fun, ladies! Who am I missing?

10. The Diva.
This girl is at the party, but she is DEFINITELY not trying to party. Pouting with her manicured fingers and heavily lined eyes glued to her cell, Diva will only speak to her tight-knit group of friends dressed in very similar outfits. She will not partake in any of the drinking games, she will not hook up with any guys and she will roll her eyes at those who do. Then she will leave an hour later to go off somewhere “cooler,” “more mature,” and just worthy of her time. 

9. The “Innocent” one
Dressed conservatively and drinking a microbrew or weak cocktail, this doll-faced darling looks like she’d rather be holed up in the library than at this very party. Wrong. She goes from “virgin” to skank in 3.5 drinks and will hook up with your boyfriend and cry about it later. Beware of the victim-playing. This girl is faker than her “leather” shoes and has run through more guys than Paris Hilton.

8. The Crazy B!#@$
Whoa. Vodka handle in one hand and the other hand down someone’s pants, the crazy B!#@$ is the wildest girl imaginable. Usually has her makeup smeared on her face, her hair a disarray and wants the music LOUDER! She won’t participate in games, but only because she’d rather dance on the table than flip cups off its edges. She’s the loudest girl on the block and she’s usually yelling something profane.

7. Intellectual smoker girl
This chick knows what’s going on in Iran and she wants to talk about it between puffs of her Parliament Lights. It’s Friday night and she’s giving her thesis on the Palestine/Israel conflict. You are dumber than her. Don’t bother.

6. Puck Slut
She’s down to do it as long as you play a college sport. Beer pong enthusiast, because that’s totally where the jocks hang, right? Doesn’t care if the team you’re on is winning, just as long as you have the jersey.

5. Needs To Party
She bombed her exam. Or her boyfriend just broke up with her. Or maybe her dog just died. Whatever the reason, this girl needs to party and she needs to party hard. You’ll see her taking shots early in the night and won’t see her again until a few hours later when her friends are carrying her out of the bathroom and into a waiting cab. Poor girl.

4. Selfie Sally
All that flashing in the corner has you searching for the strobe light, but it’s actually the flash coming from this girl’s camera. Don’t worry, though; she’s not snapping inappropriate pics of you to load onto Facebook. She’s taking pictures of herself. And her friends. Making funny faces, sexy faces, pouty faces, etc. Over and over and over again.

3. Debbie Downer
She’s sad. She’s alone. Her friends left and she doesn’t know how to rage. Slumped on the couch, pulling at her out-of-season Forever 21 top, she doesn’t realize that people would talk to her if she wasn’t so depressing.

2. The Flirt
She’ll hit on everyone. Looks like she’s gonna hook up with you? Nah. She probably has a boyfriend. She’s not interested, but she will pretend like she is all night. She thinks you’re “sooooo cute.” And him too. And him. And him. And her. And him. Wow, I wonder how she got all those free drinks?

1. That Girl
Enough. Said.

Got an idea for a Weekly 10 Topic? Let me know in the comments or shoot me an email at Melanie@CollegeCandy.com.

i don’t know if there is a dj drop more deserving of the “most annoying dj drop award” more than dj ill will/dj rockstar. shut the fuck up already, we know who you are (not that anyone cares.. is there really anyone that prefers a tagged version of a track than a tagless?). anyway, another potential smash from tyga. the d-bag lloyd serves his purpose on this one without ruining the track. tyga should stop dropping mixtapes (this cut is off the upcoming black thoughts mixtape) and finish a damn album. he’s had enough high quality material between his last 2 that could have been album cuts.

tyga on myspace.

download:

tyga – party girl (ft. lloyd).

- panda

Teaser for Date 1: Sir Smells A Lot. Full episode COMING SOON!

so, cora’s birthday party came off beautifully.  I’ll say this by way of explanation and then the ridiculous over-self-analysis will stop there:  I debated and debated whether to even do a party (mainly on account of her incapacity to remember and also the distinct possibility that a party would be overwhelming and ridiculous) and finally gave in to the other side of the argument which is that it’s not only her first birthday party, but our first birthday party, as parents, and as a family.  And I think that, in general, birthdays should be special and parties should be done right.  Furthermore, we have about a bajillion birthday parties in our future, but we will always remember this one.  Thus, a themed party, sponsored by the letter C, a la cookie monster.  And, self-analysis aside, I’m really glad we did.  It was so much fun.

here’s basically how the day went:

1. Henry took the day off, we got up later than usual (8), and I put the chili in the crock-pot.  I used a proper texas chili recipe, being a 7th generation Texan and all, complete with 5 pounds of chuck and a chili puree (*see item 4.)

2. Then we went to breakfast at the Tin Shed and fed Cora Everything Naughty.  She thought she’d died and gone to heaven.  (Seriously, some of the best biscuits and gravy I’ve ever had.)

3. We went to a toy store up the street and picked out a Playmobil airplane and a rolling inchworm, which she loves.  The look on her face was priceless as she played with the toys in the car on the way home.  I think it was dawning on her that birthdays are really, completely awesome.

4. We came home and Cora took a 2 hour nap.  During which time I checked the crockpot and discovered that I had unwittingly made 5-alarm chili that was very delicious but entirely unedible for the little people coming over.  I did a little panicking, googled “how to cool down chili that is too spicy?” and ended up removing most of the broth, adding a bunch of beans and tomatoes (I suppose it is now my very own recipe, but I’ve no idea how to ever replicate it…) and a spoonful of vinegar.  All of which worked pretty well.  I tinkered a little more with it and then made the executive decision that the little people could just have grilled cheese and rice.  It worked out perfectly:  the adults literally scraped the crockpot clean, and the kids inhaled the sandwiches… I think we would have run out of chili altogether if the kids and adults had both eaten it.

5. Cora woke up and she and Henry went for a walk.  Aren’t they cute?

6.  The party got going around four.  I think we had 8 kids under the age of 5, and there were a few wild moments, but by and large, just a whole lot of fun.  There was a noticeable uptick in the activity level after the cupcakes were eaten, and the clay and crayons were a big hit.  Cora really seemed to enjoy herself.   She likes being around other kids and it didn’t hurt that she’d had such a nice long nap.

… and then everyone went home.  Nick and Erika stuck around for a couple of hours… the night ended with Cora laughing hysterically on the bed at Nick and then a hot bath and bed.  We watched the office, did the dishes, and mopped the floors.  Pretty nearly a perfect day.

a year ago today, this:

I can’t believe it has been a year.  And now we are drinking beer, watching the floor dry and smelling wonderful smell of murphy’s oil soap after a rather wild party.  Which I’ll post about tomorrow, I swear.  She is the best thing that has ever happened to us, and I am so in love with her that I actually miss her when she occasionally* sleeps through the night.  More about all that tomorrow, though.  For now I am just pleased that we made it through a whole year with both bodies and minds intact and are happily looking forward to many more.

*actually, never.  but I’m learning to deal with it and feel sure that by the time she hits adolescence I won’t be spending an hour or two in the rocker every night trying to coax her back to bed.

Scene from “Party Girl”:

SOURCE

~ 16 October 2009 ~

Bevor ich von meinem Alltag berichte, möchte ich ersteinmal kurz das Alltäglichste überhaupt loswerden: das Teil hängt. Seit dem 1. Oktober. Ohne runterzukrachen. (Die Zahnseide erfüllt ihren Zweck!)

Und auch alles andere sieht soweit ganz gut aus. Mein Leben hat mehr oder weniger einen routinierten Ablauf gewonnen, den ich regelmäßig durch lustiger oder weniger lustige Aktionen durchbreche – mit anderen Worten: langweilig wird’s mir nie.

Die ersten zwei Wochen im Oktober hatten wir Ferien und eigentlich hatten ein paar Leute aus meiner Klasse einen Road Trip zur Desert Road geplant, meiner absoluten Lieblingsstraße in Neuseeland, doch das Wetter machte uns einen Strich durch die Rechnung: der Winter kam kurzfristig zurück, die Desert Road wurde wegen Schnee gesperrt und unser Ausflug fiel ins Wasser.

Selbst in Wellington fielen für etwa 30 Sekunden ein paar Flöckchen vom Himmel – und ich war wohl die Einzige, die sich darüber freute.

Anstatt auf Foto-Tour ging ich in den Ferien also zur Schule, eigentlich, um einen Artikel zu schreiben und anschließend Ferien zu haben. Aber dann gab es da noch etwas, über das Geschrieben werden musste, und noch etwas und noch etwas… Und am Ende ging ich jeden Tag zur Schule, arbeitete mehr als in der Nicht-Ferien-Zeit, schlief weniger als in der Nicht-Ferien-Zeit und bekam eine Journalismus- und Deadline-Zeitdruck-Sucht.

Die Ferien waren großartig (außer an dem einen Tag, als ich den Leitartikel bekam und sich der Redaktions-Grinch, eine unfaire Mitstudentin, als Trittbrettfahrer einmischte und versuchte, mir den Knüller zu stehlen), doch alle guten Dinge haben ein Ende.

Jetzt sind diese verregneten und recht produktiven Ferien vorbei und das Radio-Modul hat angefangen, wo wir lernen, wie man Artikel für Radio schreibt: Kurz, mit viiiiieeeeel weniger Details und ohne Bilder.

Überraschenderweise macht mir das mehr Spaß, als ich angenommen hatte. Vielleicht sollte ich doch einen Job beim Radio in Erwägung ziehen…

~

Soviel also zu meinem Studium. Privat ist auch einiges los. Soviel, dass ich vorgestern vergaß, die Wäsche zu waschen, es gestern Abend tun musste und heute Morgen meine Socken noch nass waren. Also versuchte ich, sie in der Mikrowelle blitz-zu-trocknen, was mehr oder weniger sogar funktionierte: sie waren gemütlich warm und zumindest weniger nass.

Aber keine Sorge, normalerweise habe ich das mit der Wäsche und dem Haushalt besser im Griff.

Morgen feiert meine Mitbewohnerin ihren Geburtstag mit einer Vor-Halloween-Kostüm-Party. Ein Kostüm, das mit irgendeinem Buchstaben in dem Wort Spaghetti zu tun hat, ist Pflicht, deshalb waren ein paar Leute aus meinem Haus und ich heute beim Kostümverleih.

Ich werde als Rotkäppchen gehen (das als ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ einen H im Namen hat, H kommt auch in Spaghetti vor) und einen total schicken roten Umhang und ein kleines Körbchen tragen.

Letztes Wochenende habe ich mit Bonnie die Stadt unsicher gemacht und das klingt jetzt als hätte sich meine Persönlichkeit um 180° gewandelt. Aber nein, so ist es nicht: ich bin immer noch kein Party-Girl (auch wenn es gerade den Anschein hat).

Der Gegenbeweis: ich häkele wieder. Wenn das mal nicht schrullig ist…

Ich habe mir nämlich ein Diktiergerät gekauft (für Interviews…). Es heißt Johnny, denn meine Freundin Ruby und ich fanden, dass es sich bei dem Diktiergerät um eines handeln muss, das sich in Johnny Depp verwandelt, wenn man einen bestimmten Knopf drückt, anders lässt sich der Preis nicht rechtfertigen.

Den Knopf haben wir noch nicht gefunden, aber wir arbeiten dran. Bis dahin wollte ich eine schöne Hülle für Johnny häkeln. Leider geriet sie zu groß (Johnny ist nämlich schlank) und wurde deshalb zur Hülle für den MP3-Player umfunktioniert.

Als wir nun neulich in unserem Stammcafé ‘Offbeat‘ (das übrigens offiziell eine ‘Kunstgallerie’ ist, kein Café) saßen und uns unsere morgendliche Dosis Koffein einverleibten, zeigte ich den anderen mein Meisterwerk.

Da in dem Moment der Typ mit dem Kaffee kam, sah er es auch, fand es extremst cool und so kam ich dazu, dass ich ihm auch eins häkelte. Das hat mir einen Kaffee und einen Bagel zum Mittagessen umsonst eingebracht (den Kaffee hatte ich heut, für den Bagel war kein Platz mehr, deshalb musste ich versprechen, dass ich am Montag ohne Kreditkarte zum Lunch komme und ihn dann verzehre).

Dann ging noch eine zweite Bestellung für ein MP3-Player-Täschchen ein, von einem Mitschüler, der mir im Gegenzug Musik auslieh. Jetzt häkle ich einfach mal noch weiter, für den Fall, dass noch mehr Leute Hüllen für irgendwas brauchen… (Bestellungen können an dieser Stelle eingereicht werden – internationaler Versand möglich)

~

Ansonsten ist Neuseeland an sich ziemlich entspannt. Alle fiebern ein bisschen dem Fussball entgegen, denn wenn wir das Spiel gegen Bahrain gewinnen, dürfen wir endlich mal wieder bei ner WM teilnehmen.

Die vielen Tsunami-Warnungen und Erdbeben lassen uns übrigens ziemlich unberührt. Eigentlich ist es ganz lustig, wenn manchmal das Haus ein bisschen wackelt (mittlerweile bin ich sogar an dem Punkt, dass ich realisiere, dass es NICHT der Bus ist, der gegen die Hauswand gefahren ist, wenn die Wände wackeln).

Was uns viel mehr schockiert, jedes Mal wenn die Erde bebt, sind die Auswirkungen auf Samoa, das in letzter Zeit ja von den Tsunami-Wellen übel heimgesucht wurde. Viele Leute, die ich kenne, haben Verwandte oder Freunde in der Gegend, kommen von dort, waren schon mal dort oder gehen demnächst hin, und es ist ziemlich schrecklich zu sehen, wie viele Menschen ihre ganze Existenz verloren haben.

Aber es ist gut zu sehen, wie viel Hilfe von Neuseeland kommt, ständig werden Initiativen ergriffen, um den Katastrophenopfern zu helfen. Und die Kiwis haben nach wie vor ihre alte Einstellung: das kriegen wir schon wieder hin.

Wo wir gerade von Kiwis sprechen: mein Salat neulich hatte Kiwi-Dressing (und es hat mich eine halbe Stunde gebraucht, ehe ich realisierte, dass die Frucht gemeint war und nicht “Dressing für den Kiwi (Mensch)”) und der Kiwi ist zum Vogel des Jahres gewählt worden. Ich wundere mich nur, warum ich die Einzige zu sein scheine, die darüber nicht überrascht ist. Für mich ist das irgendwie naheliegen, den Kiwi zum Vogel des Jahres zu wählen.

~ ~ ~

Before I report on my daily life, I want to point out the most obvious daily occurance: the thingy hangs. Since 1 October. Without falling down. (The dental floss does the trick!)

And everything else is going pretty good as well. My life has kind of found some sort of routine, which I sometimes break with funny or not-so-funny actions – in other words: I never get bored.

The first two weeks of October have been school holidays and some classmates and me wanted to go on a road trip up to the Desert Road, my favourite road in New Zealand, but the weather spiked our guns: winter came back for a little time, the Desert Road was being blocked off due to snow and our trip fell through.

There were even a few snowflakes coming down in Wellington (for a period of like 30 seconds) – and I was the only person who appreciated the snow, it seems.

So, I went to school during the holidays, instead of going photo-touring. Actually, because I wanted to write one story and enjoy my holidays afterwards. But then something occured that needed media coverage and then something else occured and something else and… and then I ended up going to school every single day, working ever more than during Non-holiday-time, slept less than during non-holiday-time and got seriously addicted to journalism and dealine pressure.

The holidays were great (except for that day I got the lead and the Grinch of the Newsroom, an unfair-playing colleague, jumped on the waggon and tried to steal my scoop and claim it for herself), but all good things come to an end.

Those rain-swept and pretty productive holidays are over now and the radio module has begun and we learn how to write stories for radio: short, with faaaaaaarrr less details and without pictures.

Surprisingly, I really enjoy radio writing much more than expected. Maybe I should consider applying for a job at a radio station…

~

So that’s it about my studies so far. My private life is kind of busy as well. That busy, that I forgot to do the washing the day befoer yesterday, so that I had to do it last night, so my socks were still wet this morning. I tried to put them in the microwave to get them blitz-dry, and it even worked (kind of): there were comfortable warm and at least a little less wet.

But don’t worry, usually I manage to fulfill my washing and other household duties better.

Tomorrow, my flatmate is going to celebrate her birthday with a pre-halloween-costume-party. A costume that has anything to do with one of the letters in the word spaghetti is compulsory, so some people from my house and I went down to the costume shop today.

I’ll go as Little Red Riding Hood (Which has an H in Hood, H is also part of the word Spaghetti) and wear a totally classy hood and cape and carry a cute little basket.

Last weekend, my friend Bonnie and I hit the town and this sounds as I have made a 180°-turn personality-wise. But no, that’s not the case: I am still not a party-girl (even though it seems like that right now).

The counterproof: I started to crochet again. Now if that’s not quirky…

I bought a dictaphone (for interviews). It’s called Johnny because my friend Ruby and I figured that it must be one of those dictaphones that turn into Johnny Depp when you push a button, otherwise the price I paid couldn’t be justified.

We haven’t found that magical button, yet, but we’re working on it. Until we find it, I wanted to crochet a case for Johnny. Unfortunately, it got too big (Johnny is pretty skinny, you know) and so I use it as a case for my Mp3-Player now.

COFFEETIME: The same procedure every morning, James.

So when we were sitting at our favourite café ‘Offbeat‘ the other morning (which is actually a retail gallery, not a café, by the way) and got our daily shots, I showed my masterpiece to my colleagues.

At this instant, the barista came, also saw it, found it extremely cool and somehow I ended up crocheting an MP3-player-case for him as well. That got me a free coffee and a bagel (I had the coffee today, but didn’t have room for the bagel anymore after lunch, so I had to promise to come for bagel-lunch on Monday and leave my credit card at home).

Then, I got a second order to crochet a case, for a colleague, who gave me some of his music in return. Now I simply keep making those things, in case some more people ask for cases for something… (Place your oder here – international shipping available)

~

As to the rest, New Zealand is pretty relaxed. Everyone’s a little excited about the football, because if we win, we will finally get the chance to take part in a worldcup again.

The many tsunami warnings and earthquakes don’t bother us, by the way. Actually, it’s quite funny when your house starts shaking from times to times (I have actually reached the point now where I recognise an earthquake now and don’t mistake it for a bus crashing into the house anymore, when the walls start to shake).

What shocks us more about the earthquakes, is the impact they have on Samoa, which has been hit by the big tsunami-waves quite a lot recently. Many people I know have friends or family in or from that area, are from there, have been there or plan to go there soon, and it is pretty devastating to see how many people have actually lost their existence.

But it’s good to see how much support there is from New Zealand, constantly people and organisations initiate fund raisers to help and support the victims of natural disasters. And the Kiwis still have their old attitude: it’s nothing we can’t (try to) fix.

Speaking of Kiwis: my salad the other day came with Kiwi dressing (and it took me like half an hour to realise that they actually meant the fruit and not “Dressing for Kiwis (the people)”) and the kiwibird has been voted ‘Bird of the Year‘. I am just wondering why everyone else seems to be so surprised about that. To me, it is somehow obvious to vote for the Kiwi as the Bird of the Year.

This tiny couple loves to share desserts

We love these adorable cake or cupcake toppers for wedding cakes or shower celebrations. There is something decidedly un-wedding about them. Something about them reminds me of the Sunday funny papers or maybe its weeble wobbles - but these two seem to have their own little story to tell…

Made of wood and hand-painted, the size works really well for cupcakes or a full-fledged wedding cake. We noticed that Design Sponge (who we love) also likes these and has featured them. If you’d like to purchase these sweeties just email us at jennifer@lavishgifts.com. $40 for the pair.

Does this look like best friend material?

While we may have known many of our besties since elementary school, they say college is where you meet your bridesmaids. I don’t know who the hell “they” are, but it seems true enough. After four years of late night pizza runs, Friday night pre-gaming and makeup sessions, and spooning in tiny twin beds, you are bound to make those tight knit friendships.

You meet a ton of girls during your college years. Some are your long lost sisters, your soul mates for life. And then there are others, many others, that just aren’t BFF material. If we are in fact meeting our bridesmaids, we have to be careful when making friends, lest we end up with some husband-stealing ho bag who shows up drunk or skips out of the wedding early to make the other two weddings she has scheduled that day.

Here’s the list of girls to avoid at all costs. They will only make your life harder, so save yourself the stress (and the pimple that comes with it) and steer clear!

The Overachiever

"Sorry, I have 4 meetings and a group project today. Maybe we can hang next week?"

Being motivated is a great thing. Being involved in your school is, too. But when her agenda is packed full of events, coffee dates, club meetings and post-it notes to remind her of her itinerary (and her friends), there’s a problem. It’s usually just obnoxious that they feel the need to do absolutely everything, but the real problem comes when you try and be their friend and they make you feel like you’re setting back their whole schedule. You shouldn’t have to fit into someone else’s schedule (maybe they can pencil you in for next Thursday at 3:52?). Just move to the side, and let the Energizer Bunny bulldoze through; it’ll save you the embarrassment of having to admit you’re going to lay in your bed and watch Friends reruns all afternoon.

The One with All Guy Friends

"I like sports and guy things!"

So she can hang with the guys; kick up her feet, have a cold one and watch some football. Cool, right? Only if she can also talk fashion mags over coffee dates, too. Something just doesn’t match up when all of a girl’s close friends are men. Why can’t she connect with other girls? Is it because she only makes friends through sexual favors? Is she a backstabber who can only reconcile with the guys who could really care less if people talk bad behind their back? Not to say that this goes for every situation, but just be careful, it’s a little iffy.

The Gossiper

"She has herpes."

She’s fueling the rumor mill, and you’re probably the next to be on it. She knows just how to get you talking about your private life, and she can twist anything into an ultra-juicy tidbit to pass through the dorms. Hang with her today and you’ll be the druggie, slutty, insecure loser by tomorrow.

The Clubhead /PartyHead/ I Just Want to Drink Head

"Class? What's that?"

I wouldn’t say avoid her all the time. If you run into her at the party on Friday night, she would make a great pong partner and it might be fun to throw back a couple of shots with her, too. But in general, she is bad news. She is uber-convincing that any alcohol related activity is better than doing whatever productive thing you may be doing at the time. That means homework, jobs, exercising and anything else that qualifies you as a successful human being, will fly out the window.

The Drama Queen

"I can't believe I got a C AND lost my cell phone in the day! WAAAAH"

Everything is a sob story, and you’re sole purpose in life will be to console her. She just has so much homework; her boyfriend only gave her chocolate for Valentines Day (where’s the Tiffany’s?!); her parents won’t let her go away on Spring break; wah wah wahhhhh. We all have our problems, but we don’t all feel the need to whine about them 24/7. Honestly? If you cross her path you’ll be recruited as the next Dr. Phil, and none of us need that.

What other girls around campus make you turn and run in the other direction?

Liev Schreiber

I first came across Liev Schreiber at The Public Theater.  Of course I’d seen him in movies for years before… as Cotton Weary in “Screams 1-3“  as sad cross-dresser Chris in “Mixed Nuts,” as the cuckolded husband who was much cuter than Viggo Mortensen in “A Walk On the Moon” and as one of my favorite indie messed-up dudes in “Walking and Talking,” “The Daytrippers” and “Party Girl.” I’d admired him from afar in these films and very much appreciated the way he spat a curse word on screen, but I don’t know if I would’ve singled him out as a  member of my “list.”

But that was before “Hamlet.” Right around 1999, Schreiber, already a well-respected actor in Shakespearean circles, decided to take on the Melancholy Prince and since I lived just down the street from the theater of his choosing and was in the middle of a serious “Hamlet” obssesion, I was first in line to buy a ticket to the show.

Liev Schreiber in Hamlet

From what I recall, it was not a great production.  There may have been puppets… And an annoyingly childlike Ophelia… And I seem to remember being very upset with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern for some reason.  But regardless of the flawed production, the only thing I could focus on was Schreiber, who was about as magnetic an actor as I’ve ever seen on stage.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.  And it’s a three hour show.  That’s a lot of staring time.

I was hooked.  I dragged a friend of mine (who over time became far more obsessed with him than I ever was) to see the show twice more.  I rented his movies.  I wandered the neighborhood hoping for a random bumping.  In the middle of a talent show I was performing in, there was a rumor that he’d walked by the window.  I left in the middle of the show to chase him through Washington Square Park. My friend even wrote a screenplay about the meeting we’d planned to have with him.  (In retrospect, yeah, that doesn’t sound scary at all, does it?)  But other than a brief glimpse at the infamous Ethan Hawke party, I never did get my meeting with Mr. Schreiber.

Until.

I worked at The Public Theater during their 2000-2001 season, which included star-studded productions of “The Seagull,” “Top Dog/Underdog” (more on those later) and “Othello” starring none other than Mr. Liev Schreiber.

The stolen Hamlet poster

My co-workers were well aware of my little crush on the actor.  I’d stolen an autographed “Hamlet” poster from our storage collection and had bugged the PR department repeatedly for stories about him.   In fact, I’m pretty sure my co-workers would’ve liked nothing more than to never hear about Liev Schrieber again.

Right around the time “Othello” was about to take the stage, a little incident called September 11th happened.  Suddenly, the theatrical world was thrown into turmoil.  Shows were closing everywhere and even though there had been promises that no one’s job would be lost in the wake of the attacks, it was only a few weeks later that I was called into my boss’s office and was told that my services would no longer be required at The Public Theater.

I was a wreck.  I’d never lost a job before.  I didn’t know what to do.  Everyone was at lunch.  I wandered back to my lonely desk and pushed my belongings into a small cardboard box.   I was just turning to go when a member of the PR department came hurrying into the room.  She wasn’t paying close enough attention to see the tear stains on my face or the box in my hand.

She grabbed my arm and said, “You’re going to want to do this.”

Ignoring my protests, the PR woman dragged me through the backstage area of the Public, on an elevator and up to the rehearsal area where Schreiber and his co-star Keith David were practicing their stage fight.

Only seconds after we stepped onto the stage, someone hit the lights.  And from the other side of the room came a birthday cake.  And all of a sudden, I was singing Happy Birthday with a collection of about five other people.  To Liev Schreiber.  With a box of my belongings clutched in my arms and tears just on the verge of pouring.

I made it through the song, thanked the PR woman profusely and slunk out of the theater.  On one of the most terrible days of my life, I had a (minor) dream come true.  Doesn’t really get more New York than that.

Share your dates with Party Girl Plus One for future webisodes!

Share your dates with Party Girl!

Parker Posey has had to drop out of her off-Broadway play This “due to a developing case of Lyme disease ” according to a statement issued by her publicist.

This is really sad news for me because I freakin love Parker Posey–she’s been in some of my favorite movies like “Best in Show”, “Party Girl”, and “Broken English” and she’s really funny, so I hope they caught it early.  Get well soon, Parker!!

SOURCE

You’d never do such a thing, of course–but if you asked me to name the ultimate product of Hollywood’s Studio Age, I’d pick Lynch’s Mulholland Dr (it’s also my favourite film). If pressed to choose a movie that was actually made during the period in question, I’d have to go with one of two very late exercises in Metrocolored auteurism (both released in 1958)–Minnelli’s Some Came Running (more on that one some time soon) or Nick Ray’s Party Girl:

There are other 1930-1960 Hollywood films that I like as much or more (Vertigo, Portrait of Jennie, Love Letters, Little Man, What Now?, Strange Cargo, Moonrise, Trouble in Paradise, The General Died at Dawn, All Quiet on the Western Front, The Front Page, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers, Duck Soup, Kings Row, Ruby Gentry, The Wedding Night, H.M. Pulham Esq., Curse of the Cat People, History is Made at Night, Possessed (1931), The Strange Woman, The Black Cat, Dracula, Freaks, Out of the Past, Murder, My Sweet, Sirk’s Imitation of Life, Easy Living, Scarlet Street, Alice Adams, Swing Time, It’s A Wonderful Life, The Narrow Margin, The Killers, You Only Live Once, You and Me, Meet John Doe, The Miracle Woman, Stage Door, The Bitter Tea of General Yen, Sullivan’s Travels, Christmas in July, Kansas City Confidential, Fallen Angel, High Sierra, The Awful Truth, The Strawberry Blonde, The Roaring Twenties, Juarez, Dark City, Rope of Sand, The Accused, The Devil and Daniel Webster, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Talk of the Town, Thieves’ Highway, They Drive By Night, All This and Heaven Too, Dark Victory, Three Strangers, Red Dust, Mad Love, The Last Flight, Petrified Forest, Rear Window, The Maltese Falcon, Stella Dallas, Holiday, The Seventh Victim, Citizen Kane, Magnificent Ambersons, Casablanca, Three Comrades, The Shop Around the Corner, The Mortal Storm, Daisy Kenyon, Mann’s Raw Deal, Laura, Road House, Angels Over Broadway, The Lost Moment, We Are Not Alone, On the Town, Yolanda and the Thief, Meet Me in St.Louis, The Clock, Nightmare Alley, A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, Kiss of Death, Kiss Me Deadly, These Three, Wuthering Heights, Vera Cruz, Dodsworth, Shadow of a Doubt, Whale’s Waterloo Bridge, and Ray’s own They Live By Night, Bigger Than Life and In a Lonely Place, to name just a few), but none of them embody the best and worst of Tinseltown’s tendencies the way Party Girl does.

How so?

Well, consider the casting:

The leads? Two of the most hermetically-sealed mugs in the history of screen thesping. Just look at ‘em:

Forget “where’s Waldo?”–where’s the “humanity”? You can scan these pans from here to eternity without discovering a trace of method in their maskness. Does that make them ineffective performers? No way. As we’ll see, this is a “right face at the right time” scenario. But we’ll return to that…

Take a look at some of the key character players.

In one film, Ray gives us the ultimate avuncular psychopath (Lee J. Cobb):

(Messers. De Niro and De Palma clearly paid attention to this one)

The ultimate sleazoid henchman (John Ireland):

AND the ultimate pseudo-leading man (Kent Smith, in a role–the flawed crusading District Attorney– that, in many other films, would be the lead… that title’s not a knock, by the way: Smith’s ersatzness is absolutely essential to the greatness of films like Cat People and The Fountainhead):

With that group on hand, you know you’re in for gangsterism–and you definitely get a large helping of “Early thirties Chicago” here–but refried, Ray-style (Ray-fried? Ray-ified?)… All of the elements of Party Girl are recognizable to a veteran classic film viewer, but the director puts them together in unprecedentedly odd ways. It’s a gangster film, yes–with much of its generic momentum provided by a Brando-ized (and much less successful) cousin of Scarface’s Tony Camonte:

but all Hoppered up with visions of loneliness/intersubjectivity-in-crisis like these:

and Sirked way off course by a plot that’s 40% recovery-from-disability narrative:

And while your brain is slam-dancing with that dissonance, allow me to throw Cyd Charisse’s leopard-printed gams into the mix:

(I’m afraid Cyd activates my “male gaze” problem wherever she appears–and this film both encourages that mode AND calls it into question far more effectively than anything else she did at MGM… with many scenes, especially early on, that dramatize what the ravages of all of that ogling can do to a woman’s spirit… also note that Ray allows Charisse to look like exactly what she was in 1958–an absurdly beautiful woman in her mid-30s, NOT an ingenue)

The film actually kicks off as if it means to be a precursor of Verhoeven’s Showgirls (I suppose the weirdly off-base title must have something to do with this impression), and Charisse really shows us something (other than her celebrated grace) in these scenes. Vicki Gaye’s deadened pan is clearly shown to be a defensive formation against the forces of objectification. In a manner uniquely his own (although I suspect that Verhoeven learned a lot about how to deploy Elizabeth Berkley from this film… I’d love to know if he ever saw it), Ray skillfully transforms the actress’ limited range into a powerful gesture toward subjectivity. When you watch isolated scenes of this film, Charisse doesn’t seem to be giving any kind of a performance, but I defy you to watch it from beginning to end without finding something compelling in her progression.

Likewise, Robert Taylor’s weird passivity is exploited to wonderful effect in this film. Has there ever been a more diffident leading man? Alan Ladd is a bravura trouper, by comparison. The one thing Taylor can do is be stubborn, and Ray lets him flash this talent in EVERY scene. How would Melville’s Bartleby do as a gimpy mafia consigliere? Party Girl gives us the answer.

It does other things too.

Clydefro is right to draw our attention to Ray’s absolute belief in the personality-altering effects of romantic attraction (whether transient or lasting). NO ONE is better at showing people getting under each other’s skins. Even–or maybe even especially–these two manikins. The scene in the speakeasy, in which the pair stab through each others’ jaded worldviews with ice pick glances, could very well be the best of its type–leagues ahead of the kind of banter that is supposed to achieve the same ends in things like Hawks’ Big Sleep.

And the violence, when it comes stealing into the narrative (as in Cobb’s savage assault upon Jean Harlow’s photo; in the Capone-esque trophy scene shown above; in the glimpse of Vicki’s rommate’s suicide; in the “greatest hits” montage and in the finale) is absolutely jarring, in a way that it never, ever could be in a gangster film devoid of Charisse dance sequences and extended sojourns to special Swedish health institutes.

All that and a happy ending too!

Godard claimed that Ray IS cinema. I don’t know about that–but Party Girl IS Hollywood Cinema.

a bientot, les amis

Dave

]]> http://kawaiikawabe.wordpress.com/2009/08/18/mystique-club/ Tue, 18 Aug 2009 09:53:00 +0000 kawaiikawabe http://kawaiikawabe.wordpress.com/2009/08/18/mystique-club/

Last week was a really hectic week to me. I attended two clubbing sessions on Tuesday night for bounce at the wrong mystique and Friday night for Baby Face at the real Mystique. To be honest, I barely club in Brisbane and I think the last clubbing night probably was few months ago, that was a Klub Kandy night at The FAMILY.

Let’s begin with the wrong Mystique I went to. I have no idea why there are two clubs have the same name which is Mystique. For my information, there is only one mystique located in Warner St. Well, back to the club. This so-call Mystique club is located at Brunswick St, it’s so close to the Valley Station. I don’t think you can spot it because it is so super duper dodgy outside and inside as well. The floor is not glossy for a dance or a shuffle. Me and my baby boy paid $10 each for the entrance fee in the real mystique and after a while we realized that this is not the Mystique we are going. shit! Another $20 for the entrance fees.

We didn’t stay very long in the club because the club is not really happening to me and I am not allowed to drink because I have drive. Haih!

For clubbers who drive to Fortitude Valley, you can go to Secure Parking located at Warner St (next to mystique club). Flat rate at $11 for weekend and $10 for weekdays after 4pm.

Last Friday night, my friend called me to go to this event called Baby Face. I decided to go because it’s very rare that I do not have to work on the weekend. This time I went to the right Mystique Club. Not the dodgy club. The club is quite small but they are three floors where you can see a cluster of hot chicks dance from the first and second floors.

Me and my friend agreed that this is a good club we ever went in The Valley. The music were a bit old school for these days. They were playing songs like those days you were at Maison or Zouk (four years ago, gosh). You do feel like you are clubbing in Zouk with your friends ( back in those days). haha! They are going to have another party called Reiji this weekend. I prefer Baby Face than Klub Kandy because I like the how the DJ played the music.

It’s a bit unusual to club on Tuesday night in Brisbane because the next day is a Public Holiday and the eve definitely have something going on.