Backstreet's Back. By back I mean pathetic.

The other night, while I was doing one of those habitual spend-the-night-in-Bobst-writing-your-midterm-paper (by that I mean effin around on Facebook and Pinkisthenewblog until 3am when I pinch out an illiterate piece of crap by 7am) practices, I was listening to Pandora - the greatest invention EVER - since my iTunes hasn't been synced up to my last computer. Suddenly, within the mix I had requested, the song "Get another Boyfriend," by the Backstreet Boys surfaced. Hoorah! If you're like me, and you're still a sucker for the shit you were listening to in seventh grade, then you'd understand why I hightailed it to Youtube, casually wondering whether or not these fellas ever made a video for that song. Well, let me break the suspense: they didn't. But I found something much better. A video from their concert performance. You're welcome, everyone:



How do I love this video? Let me count the ways:

1. The way A.J. enthusiastically ejaculates a hearty "GOOD GOD" between each verse and chorus while he makes love to his own shitty wife betater.
2. Also the other scathingly obvious signs of his drug addiction.
   
3. The awesome jacket that Kevin is wearing, which seems to be a really ballsy amalgamation between an aluminum vampire suit and a quarterback's under gear. And the fact that this rad cloak totally frames his Columbian drug lord hair do oh so fetchingly.
4. The moment Nick decides that being a bad ass = climbing on a drum set and violently wracking his head against it.
5. Dance moves which supposedly simulate sex (or, you know, a very alarming seizure), which I feel really would mislead a 13-year-old. Hopefully the majority of these girls don't grow up thinking that men are supposed to slink around like a gecko in bed while they whine into a headset.
6. "GOOD GOD!"
   

Monroehan

I know this happened a week ago, and technically not blogging about it when it happened seems a little sub par for someone trying to be a good blogger, but the truth is, I didn't hear about it till last Friday, when I was too lazy to comment. And also more invested in trying to finish season 1 of Arrested Development online (unfortunately Hulu has a pretty skinny offering when it comes to Arrested, and my stolen wireless offers me limited alternative options). But ANYWAY. Onto more "arresting" (**chortlechortle**) topics, as people getting nekkid in Hollywood is vastly more interesting than what I do in East Greenpoint. Lindsay Lohan posed nude (!) for New York Magazine, emulating the "Last Sitting" spread taken of Marilyn Monroe right before she died in 1962. Naturally this incited a lot of stir because it was the first time a 20-something Hollywood party girl showed the world her bits a) intentionally and b) without stumbling out of a Bentley high on vicodin and Absolut. Also because considering the recent death of Heath Ledger, the timing seems a little uncouth on New York's behalf. I also find it a little questionable because I wouldn't be surprised if Lohan ends up in the same situation Marilyn did six weeks after her shoot. Granted, I'm sure she's skated dangerously recklessly on that thin ice before and that's why she's such a rehab vet - Marilyn probably would have behaved the same way if drug addiction and sexy self-destruction were as glamorous back in the Kennedy era.

So really, I guess my verdict is that the only aspect of this creation that could be spun as "tasteless," which so many people are wont to call it, is the timing. Other than that, I find the concept incredibly intriguing. The photographer, Bert Stern, was the same who photographed Monroe, and the idea of recreating the spread with a current actress (or, you know, someone who is grossly overpaid to make poor life decisions and live more extravagantly than you) is really classy, I find. Where it falls (really really) short, however, is that few people - me included - have any iota of respect for Lindsay Lohan nowadays, and honestly, she does not look good in these photos. They're in no way pornographic or vulgar (though they are more revealing than Monroe's version), but they're also not really... pretty? I'm not going to come down on her for gaining weight, but something about Lindsay's body just seems amateur and lazy (ditto on the editing - FTW man?), and her face shows the exhaustion of someone who just woke up after taking a two-day nap. After taking a two-day roll and coke binge. (Whoa! I'm harsh!)

But! One plus is that I am totally pleased by the magazine's spring 2008 fashion series, which fortunately did not include these puppies. Yikes!

My mom learned how to use iChat.

Mom: The girls are on their way home form the Spice Girls concert
Mom: Roger Clemens got screwed
Katelyn: ZIGAZIGA
Mom: whatsat mean
Katelyn: It's a Spice Girls phrase
Mom: ohhhh
Mom: Libby looked amazing so did Alana
Katelyn: Greeeeeeaaaaaaaaat
Katelyn: My French professor went to the Spice Girls concert
Katelyn: ... twice.
Mom: cool
Katelyn: He didn't go with his kids or anything
Katelyn: He went with his boyfriend.
Mom: is that his pardner?
Katelyn: Yes
Katelyn: I believe that's the correct term.
Katelyn: Or that guy he has sex with.
Mom: ewwwww dave letterman is talking about tainted meaat
Katelyn: How well that ties into this conversation...
Mom: don't talk about people having sex unless you have personal knowledge of their carnal knowledge
Mom: Gots to go for a minute - Libby's home!
Katelyn: Bye!
11:50 PM

Le hon hon hon

I'm taking this class on Contemporary France (alias: the Reason French People Hate Everyone Today 101). And I'm doing pretty well in it - surprise of the century since my professor is pretty much un grand cul (look it up). Every night he makes us send him well thought-out and articulate questions on the readings, and sometimes he'll bring my questions up in class the next day. I'd just like to say that the only motivation I find to succeed in this course is the image of Rick, my mom's boyfriend, enthusiastically vociferating the word vichyssoise at the mention of anything related to FRONSH PEPPLE. (Wouldn't you know - vichyssoise was actually invented in New York.) I know it pretty much sums up his only understanding of French language, history, or culture in general, but I'd just like to say, as a French major, that's all you really need.

Pro con

• Pro: I'm doing relatively OK with Nurtisystem. I'm not doing the boot-camp quasi-anorexic version of September last, through which I lost 30 pounds, but I think that's OK. Considering I gained half of it back when I started eating like a real person again.
• Con: I'm still smokin. Not like smokin hot, but like, smokin Camel lights. Dumb.
• Pro: I was beginning to write a really arduous six-page French paper last night at 2am (when else?) when I realized via an old email that it's actually not due until Monday. C'est super chouette!
• Con: I still have to write that shit and I have no idea what it will be on nor which secondary sources I shall use. Merde.
• Pro: I finally purchased hygienic accoutrement for my new apartment so the kitchen would stop doubling as a landfill. Now I can actually see the counter tops, the boxes are gone, and I don't have to play Jenga every time I throw something away.
• Con: Too late. I found one of these bad larrys in my bathroom.

"Oh it's your last semester? How do you feel about graduating?"

I'll tell ya how I feel. Same way I usually feel about every other "achievement" in my life.

NYU, you're dumb.

Do you know why Ms. Patricia Trattoria here is smiling? Neither do I (nor do I get why a 20-year-old college student would shop at Casual Corner). Because NYU sucks dick. In more ways than one (like your mom - OH). With all my qualms about their yellow lines and red tapes aside, and their shockingly simplistic ploys to hemorrhage my parents out of their money* put on the back burner, I'd just like to take a minute to say NYU, you make my life probably four grillion times harder than it needs to be.

Lately, all dorms in NYU housing installed a seemingly brilliant and efficient system of swiping gates, allowing any student who lives in NYU housing to swipe through without having to call their friend to come sign them in, thereby avoiding an obnoxious 10-minute interval of standing in the lobby while said friend watches Project Runway until the commercial comes on. Any student not living in housing must have their friend come down, swipe them in at the security guard's (read: senile/bored/sadistic twat face) desk. Since I'm in a sorority, I have been blessed with a little pink sticker identifying me as Greek, allowing me to simply flash my ID and walk in without grudge. Funny, then, that I stood at the front desk for 20 minutes last night screaming at the security guard, clanking a bag of five 40-ounces, begging to get in. Pray tell, what is the point of a Greek sticker, or any sticker for that matter, if all it does is waste a few hundred dollas of NYU's precious endowment and NOT serve its only prescribed purpose of getting me into a fucking building? Maybe this should teach me that I really don't need to be wasting time at Lafayette anymore playing drinking games and consuming flat beer in fraternity bedrooms, watching the sophomores for whom I bought this hooch shamelessly hook up. Considering that I'm now, in relation to other participants, a freaking fossil. I guess it's time for me to realize that I am steadfastly approaching the checkpoint of being "too old for this shit." (® Stephanie O'Cain, 2006)

* Funds that are meant for me to pinch and spread out for rent/alcohol/shoes until I'm 26

Happy Valentine's Day!

Flashing lights

Everyone must visit Perez Hilton's post re: Kanye West's new video for "Flashing Lights" immediately. Firstly because I'm new to this e-ranting thing and can't embed the video in my page like you pros who have been doing this for the solid year that blogs have suddenly become acceptable and addictive (I'm looking at us, Generation Q). Secondly, because I need corroboration to my sentiment that Kanye has completely LOST HIS GOD DAMN MIND. The beginning of this atrocity starts out like any other I've-got-a-million-dollars-so-I'll-drive-my-vintage-le-baron-into-the-Mojave-desert mod video that churns out of LA as frequently as Britney's crotch. But then... I don't know... you tell me. I've always been a rather confident fan of his, and sincerely admired everything he's produced. However, this creation is rather ridiculous. At least I laughed at his reaction to Katrina. This isn't even funny.

Genesis

So I started a blog. This should sort of be an indication of how much effort I'm going to invest in the posts.