just kidding. isn't it rude when people say that?
this photo is an oldie but a goodie from one of our many meals at cowgirl over the years. i believe this was taken four years ago. cute despite my weird arm placement. we went hard. i'll add the ones from tonight on here tomorrow, with ROCO in them.
we went up to my parents' last weekend. they're in india for a month with my aunt and uncle, so we felt no pressure to do anything except hibernate with hot bowls of chili, capriccio's pizza, and movies on demand. i made tollhouse cookies and god are they good. the ultimate comfort food.
ok, so movies on demand, we need to talk. you recommended The Namesake, but that shit is depressing as hell and you should only watch it if puffy eyes are part of your beauty routine. the female leads were gorgeous and the men were kind of fug. i'm always fascinated by that -- how women can be so much prettier than men. why are you so ugly, boys? only teasing. male ducks are way prettier, so there. at least you've got that.
secondly, The Killing of John Lennon is scary and the only good actor is the lead, Jonas Ball. everyone else sounds like they're auditioning for Red Shoe Diaries. but where the hell has this Ball dude been all my life? he's phenomenal and completely disturbing. "bang bang." what a nightmare. either he's totally psychotic in real life or he deserves the Oscar NOW. one other thing. well, two. i applaud the tight editing, but apparently someone forgot to edit out the Wicked billboard, the Hershey store, Virgin Megastore, and um the people wearing skinny jeans and stillettos in Times Square. John Lennon was shot in 1980, not 2007.
get on board.
but it's not really fair, because honestly, even if the film had been terrific, i probably still would have hated it. i mean, the whole time you're watching it you're like "well maybe he won't shoot him," but then you remember this is a true story and the hero gets shot. so no one wins.
fashion week started today. well not technically. technically it starts friday, but our shit started tonight. we met Andre 3000 in a gramercy park hotel suite, which was fantastic. he's handsome, charming, e-bay obsessed like me, and he is launching his first collection of 1935-inspired clothing called "benjamin bixby," which includes everything from tweed plus-fours and cords with braces to brown leather varsity jackets and thick woolen v-neck sweaters with hand-painted letters. it's a gorgeous first collection and seeing a celebrity who clearly oversaw the production of the collection from start to finish was inspiring and a rare treat. there were two racks of clothes, plus an oversized trunk with knits and ties. i love the fact that his logo is a small hot-air balloon shape. it's an adventure. a story. the next collection could take place in 1968. or 1943. or 2097. we'll have to wait and see.
all in all, today was a good day except for the sad ending -- saying goodbye to molly. she is moving to atlanta for love. it is the end of an era. from dipping hershey kisses in peanut butter on the 13th floor of the west tower to breezy jeep rides with the top down and W-ICB radio on the way to weg's and getting caught in hilliard hall and dancing/falling down at sessa and centro fly (god we're old) and pretzels and drinks at maggie's after work...
i miss it all.
good night.
see you back on here soon.
