Friday, February 10, 2006

A-tisket a-tasket...

Hey, folks out there in the expansive land of the Internets. I've been anything but a diligent blogger as of late. And here's why!

A green and yellow basket:

Work's been cuuurazy, man. For serious. Lots of shiznit to do. Same old story there. Finishing a major push to get over this part of the work cycle. Come next Friday, the easy beginning of a new cycle begins.

I wrote a letter to my love:

My l.0. (love interest... aka T) and I have been steadily moving forward. Dates, drinks, sleepovers... oh my. T asked me about two weeks ago to go exclusive. With nothing else in my green and yellow basket, I acquiesced and said, 'Yes.' Joking aside, I'm really happy I did so and am looking forward to what happens.

And on the way I dropped it I dropped it:

Last Wednesday, T left the City for Chicago on a work trip. A week long trip. Halfway through T's being gone, I entered my usual state of ambivalence about an l.o. who goes away. What's that state, you ask? How apropo of you! Well, see. When someone I'm dating leaves me, I get really sad the instant they leave (i.e., I detest 'good-bye's). Then once they're gone, I sort of, uhm, don't care? (The question mark is intentional.) It's not that I don't care, but I start to... move on... or, more to the point, worry that I won't like that person upon their return. I found myself calling T infrequently and being delinquent in returning T's calls and texts. Yes, I know I'm screwed up. I'm gladly accepting donations in order to visit a head doctor. Thanks! Anyway, T came back this Tuesday night, and everything was great.

I dropped it, And on the way I dropped it:

It being Fashion Week in New York, there are tons of parties and people in the City. Last Saturday night, I decided to get wasted with some of my best friends. Too many tequilas and Coronas later, I was meeting and talking to the likes of Naima (of America's Next Top Model fame), Fabian Basabe (aka Eyebrows) and, yes, Paris Hilton! Heh. I do not know any of these people, and my interaction with them was tangential and fleeting at best. But I was wasted and at an establishment where smoking indoors is permitted, so the interactions didn't seem shocking or weird at the time. Even in my drunken state I realized how goofball all of the aforementioned 'famous for being famous' personalities are. Thank you, alcohol.

A little girl picked it up, and put it in her pocket:

Yesterday was fun. My friend S took me to see this show. Great music, great clothes, hot models, and fashion magazine editors. Sweet. You know how much I love the models, so getting to go was good fun. Highlights included seeing Leanne Rhymes, Andrea Leon Talley, and watching one of my favorite models trip on the runway (schadenfreude!).

OK, have to back to work now. Thank god that stupid group photo with Cynthia Nixon is no longer at the head of Droneville. Gooh.


Wednesday, January 25, 2006

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Is it wrong that the first thing that popped into my head was, "Who's the person that would sleep with any of these women?"

Yes. The answer to my question would be yes. I'll show myself to Hell, thanks.


It's official

I'm 25, and I'm [gulp] in... a word that starts with an "L" and rhymes with... glove. I've been seeing T for about five weeks now and, last Sunday (also know as the recovery day from my birthday boozefest on Saturday night), T asked if we could make it exclusive. I wittily tap danced around the obvious and ultimately arrived at the affirmative conclusion. One of the many thing that endears me to T? T secretly contacted my best friends and had a major hand in coordinating my surprise birthday party. True, if I weren't into T that could be viewed as extremely creepy and potenitally deemed as psycho. However, I am into T. A lot. o it just translated to bonus points.

Saturday night was amazing. Everyone that I love (sans friend A who works in London and friend CoolBrit who's traveling on business) was there. The perfect melange of best friends and work folks. I can honestly say it was one of the best celebrations I've ever had in honor of my birth.

Last night, I put my FoodNetwork obsession to good use and cooked dinner with T at T's place. An awesome chickpea and baby spinach salad (inspired by Rachel Ray) to which I added feta cheese. The entree was sauteed chicken breast with an herb and ginger reduction. Mmmm. It's official. I'm 25, putting FoodTV to good use, and happy to be "in a relationship."


Monday, January 23, 2006

How am I not myself?

I found this to be pretty poignant. [via postsecret] Think about it.

As for me, it was an AWESOME weekend. A surprise birthday party was thrown for the Drone on Saturday night. Many, and mean MANY, tequila shots ensued. God, I love my friends.


Friday, January 20, 2006

No, darling. I simply don't need the press.

OK, so I have what my friends would hopefully refer to as a pretty cool job. I generally like what I do... and I'm not too bad at it either. My role is one of, I'd say, moderate to heavy responsibility. But I'm definitely not a big wig. Yet. Which is why the following E-mail I (mistakenly) received from a company big wig is so funny:

hi there -

I wanted to know if you were going to be around on friday -
I am spending the day with a writer from [a high-falootin' magazine] who is doing a little story on me .... we are going to be talking about the house renovation and I mentioned that you were making light swtiches for me and he thought that was intersting .

I wanted to talk about the places where I have switches that are ganged [huh? oh.] and one with an outlet in it - thought it could be nice to talk to you about that and show him your diggs....

Let me know if that's cool with you and if the time works....

I know you don't need the press - but I think its cool....


The E-mail got me to thinking. Will I, too, one day have ganged light switches in my *diggs* the likes of which warrant an article in a highly circulated publication? Maybe. But I won't need the press, so it's moot really.


Thursday, January 19, 2006

...before I get all Ozark on your ass

*Hey, Reesey-poo? Don't make me get all Ozark on your ass with a wicked backhand thwack. You and Nancy Ryder best a shut the traps before you find yourselves riding the back of my unusually large claws. Now hush!

*If you don't shut your trap... I swear that I'll have your fake gummy bears removed and shipped straight to the Ozarks. Thank your lucky Ozarks that you have money in the bank and. HUSH. UP!

*The instant this fetus sees the light of day, I'm letting Marge the Wonder Dog of Ozark loose on his mom and dad.

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Hold on... why wait? Sick 'em! ... Damn. Fast work, Marge! A sneak attack and noone is the wiser!

*OK, people. So, Nicole's skinny. Duh. Who else is skinny, you query? What a fine query indeed. Exhibit A. Exhibit B. What do the three of them have in common, you ask? An even finer query. Behold:

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Stylist Extraordinaire, Rachel "Ozark" Zoe.

Tee hee. Some people like to use earrings exlusively as accessories for the earlobes while I, in my in infinite styling genius, like to double them up as bicep bracelets! So fetchin' fetch.

Look at her mug, for cryin' out loud. That bitch is HANGRY! Doesn't take no rocket surgeon to figure out the equation...

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Hangry Biatch


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Fat Star


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Fat Star (one month later)

If DJ AM really wants to help Nic (and these other Ozark-lovin' chicks) out...

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Pst. Nic. Please tell me you didn't splurge on that thyme and oregano salad.

...he'll sick Marge the Wonder Dog on Hangry's ass.

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Yo, Rach. What's that? Holy!

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Peace out from the Ozarks.


1/4 of a century and counting...

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So last night was awesome. I met up with T for a surprise dinner. A great meal of wine and vegan organic delights. T gave me an awesome present and a really thoughtful card. After that, we walked over to G's new place of employ. I decided to surprise her in order to introduce her to the new s.o. Side note: G's hair looks AWESOME. Watch out, boys (artists and employed men alike).

A great night all in all.


Wednesday, January 18, 2006

It's My Boozeday

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...and I'm still at work! No fair. I'm going for dinner with T. Nothing really beyond that.

Here's some VINTAGE M-K... just 'cause:

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Me & M-K jumpin' on the tramps.

Who knew MK was a triplet??

MK looks hot, but what's with all the Lexus SUV's in the parking lot??

MK in the best movie ever... filming on the campus of my alma mater.



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Apparently, this is a big deal. Via Dlisted, Reese's rep said: "Reese was told the dress was vintage. It was not. I'm not angry - just a little disappointed, but the big deal is Reese won the Golden Globe."

Uhm... it WAS vintage [you moron]. If it was authentic Chanel and had been worn before then it is, by definition, vintage (i.e., a garment from a previous season's collection). Dumbass. Vintage doesn't mean it's never been worn before.

So boo hoo. You allowed a $50,000 dress to see the light of day for the second time in order to win a major award. Why don't you cry? Oh, wait. You did... with a whole It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to moment. I, for one, will be losing sleep for weeks.

Can we get to the real Chanel disaster, please?

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According to today's WWD:

Maybe the Witherspoon fracas caused Chanel to overlook another star it clad for the evening: Mariah Carey. Karl Lagerfeld designed a siren couture gown specifically for Carey at the request of Andre Leon Talley, who is orchestrating the pop star's makeover. Talley apparently went straight to Lagerfeld for the look--and sources said the designer delivered against the advice of in-house publicists. The happy diva proudly declared it was Chanel Couture to all who cared, yet Chanel didn't mention her in and post-Globes releases. It took two requests regarding the matter to Chanel to confirm that Carey did, indeed, wear Chanel.

The two lovebirds, Mimi and ALT, together:

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A hahahaha. So much fun to be made. Poor Mariah's playing the role of Chanel's bastard stepchild. Only afforded the Chanel dress by invoking force! Heh. So, wait. THIS GUY is orchestrating anyone's makeover??

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Someone please abduct the both of them. Bind them, gag them, and make them BOTH over.

Speaking of fashion, I'll be watching this today, tomorrow, and the day after. Guilty admission: I can't wait for its release.

And by they way, it IS my party today, but I won't be crying (unless Mariah Carey becomes the new face of Chanel). The Drone turns 25. Sweet.


Tuesday, January 17, 2006

GG Do's and Don'ts

OK, so I did watch the Golden Globes. It was an entirely predictable affair. Overly-dressed rich people. In your face Moet champagne product placement. Mariah Carey and Melanie Griffith to make much fun of. Gwyneth Paltrow's smug visage and ever-cultivating British accent. Ryan Phillippe tripping on Reese's coattail... all the while eyeing the hot guys in attendance.

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Could she take any more of an Ew, get away, I'm embarrassed posture, if she tried? And could he hold on any tighter?? Were I skilled at Photoshop, I'd tranform Reese into one huge $. [image via Defamer]

A few of the speeches were surprisingly funny (including Geena Davis's speech about a fabricated incident where a little girl tells her that her performance makes her want to be the President of the United States), and even fewer awards were actually surprising.

I watched the event over at new s.o. T's house with T's roommate on TiVo. My favorite peanut gallery comments were always from the roommate:

"Oh my God! Drew [Barrymore]! It's called a BRA. Look into it!"
"I bet Emmy Rossum has a secret addiction to Dexatrim."

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= Fugly Nude-Colored Gown Swaddled Hangry

"Oh, Mariah. I hate you. Don't ever change."

But let's get real. This whole shindig is all about clothing... namely, women's clothing. My review, in brief:

Best Dressed

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Numero Uno: Natalie Portman in Chanel

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Numero Dos: Keira

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Numero Tres: Felicity

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Numero Cuatro: SJP

Worst Dressed

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Depp and the wife... this picture speaks for itself

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...and the award for worst-dressed winner of a Globe goes to the crunchy iridescent silk shantung wearing Rachel Weisz. I don't care if you are pregnant, this one's like fish in a barrel.

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This one saddens me. I mean. Vintage Chanel + Reese Witherspoon should be a no-brainer. Alas, the sequined... 1/8 of a wife beater left me thinking all night... 'Where are her boobs?' A miss in my eyes. But hey, she's cute... and so is her gay husband. So it's all good.

Make your own fun.


Drone Loves Costello

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So while the rest of the world was the watching the Golden Globes, the Drone was reliving the glory and splendor that is The 2006 AKC/Eukanuba National Championship.

And the winner, who I picked early on in the show, is Costello the Alaskan Malamute. Two words: so. FLUFFY. I want to pet him now! If anyone has any connection whatsoever... hook a drone up. For serious.



In honor of my approaching birthday (tomorrow) and the melancholy that inevitably accompanies said day, I believe a reading of Oh, the Places You'll Go! by the inimatble Dr. Seuss is in order.

Methinks Dr. Suess was, like, the original Tony Robbins:

Today is your day.
You're off to Great Places!
You're off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.


KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS! your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!

In other news, each and every one of my friends have been either explicably or inexplicably MIA.

G now has a non-9 to 5 schedule (i.e., a Drone unfriendly work schedule). Cool Brit is in Hawaii on vacation... yeah. CoolBrooklyn has disappeared into the full-on relationship vortex... hopefully to be heard from again. Good friend S has ALSO been sucked into the relationship vacuum. Though I've talked to my pals over the phone, I haven't seen a one of them since last Wednesday. Thank God I met T, my new... potential significant other (?), with whom I spent the entire three-day-weekend in bed. Looming birthdays, much like New Year's Eves, usually suck butt. Oh, the places I'll go...