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."

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.

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....

oxox

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.

...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.



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:


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...


Hangry Biatch

+


Fat Star

=


Fat Star (one month later)

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




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.


Yo, Rach. What's that? Holy!


Grrrr.
....

Aaahhhh!!!

Peace out from the Ozarks.

1/4 of a century and counting...



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.

It's My Boozeday



...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:


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.

Chan-HELL



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?



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:



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??



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.

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.


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."


+

= 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


Numero Uno: Natalie Portman in Chanel


Numero Dos: Keira


Numero Tres: Felicity


Numero Cuatro: SJP

Worst Dressed


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


...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.


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



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.

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS

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:

Congratulations!
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!

So...be 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...

Beauties to see

Just because a) it's cold outside; b) I love nicely framed and well-lit photographs, and; c) I'm in love with models... Damn, I need a tropical vacation.


Caroline Trendini


Frankie Rayder


Fernanda Tavares


Daria!

Check out more cool photos. [via COACD]

Beautiful to see

Last night featured the Drone and the new love interest (T) hitting up a 'fashion event space opening party'. T brought along the best friend K. So the Drone, T, and K boozed it up good. It bears mentioning that this wasn't one of those lame open bars featuring crowds clamoring to get free, watered-down drinks before midnight when everyone turns into a pumpkin and must once again pay twelve bucks for shitass G&Ts. Nu uh. Open bar as far as the eye could see. Attentive bartenders. Moet champagne. Belvedere vodka. Whatever. No strings attached.

The three of us got drunk of our asses. I hit it off right away with T's friend, K, and realized just how much I'm kinda sorta crazy about T. The funniest nuggets from the evening:

*Arriving at the party, first we had to walk through the 'space' being unveiled (you know, a 'space' to rent or whatever for a runway show or a cocktail party... whatever). To get to the space, however, you had to take a mysterious elevator ride (think Willy Wonka meets Vogue). In this elevator was an artsy-looking Andy Warhol-esque older man holding a scruffy dog. Being a dog lover, I couldn't resist petting the little thing. Upon doing so, I was met with the weird guy's rendition of "Reach Out and Touch Someone." I quipped, "When he's that cute, how could I not reach out touch him?" Then, the weird went creepy when the man lecherously said, "I'd like to reach out touch you!" Ew. I turned beet red in front of all the elevator's passengers while T and K giggled. Heh. But ew.

*There were photographers milling around the party, flashing paparazzi style at party-goers. One clearly (which we later confirmed with a bartender) mistook me for Matthew Fox because she and another photographer took endless shots of me (asking for shots with and without T and K). T and K once again giggled.

I heart open bars... ok, and I think I'm starting to heart T. Help me, Rhonda!

Totally...

Brainy Kid

In high school, you were acing AP classes or hanging out in the computer lab. You may have been a bit of a geek back then, but now you're a total success!

Who Were You In High School?

AP tests ruled; however, I never hung out in the computer lab... that Vincent kid who was in there all the time was a total freak. Ahem.

Hello, Assistant Lackey? Get me coffee! Now! ... Yes, I was just at Starbucks, but I don't see how that's relevant? Now MOVE!

Oh, New York



Hi, Caroline Winberg. So beautiful. So young. So tall. So blonde. So thin. So wealthy. So unfair.

That's usually where my mind goes... a lot... living in New York. Gina and I accidentally sat next to Ms. Winberg one day shopping in SoHo. We stopped for a coffee and parked it on an outdoor bench. I asked a girl with her back to me, "Do you mind if we sit here." Turning her head, I realized instantly it was Ms. Winberg. Gina and I both did. We exchanged a look that said, "Eek!"

Eventually, after Ms. Winberg had fled, I couldn't help but think, "Waaaaa." It's the same way I feel when I see amazing Manhattan real estate. That instantly familiar... "maybe some day [I, too, will have that]" moment. My friend just sent me a link to this available unit on the Upper East Side. Sigh.

I wish I could just enjoy the finer things in life, even if I only incidentally have access to them, but I can't help but wish that I could have them... pronto. Oh, New York.

Must Love Dogs



Last night I went to see Match Point with potenial s.o., T. Unless you're thinking about leaving your wife for a sexpot mistress and go to see the movie with your wife ('cause then you might feel a little awkward at times), I'd highly recommend a viewing. I liked it despite mediocre reviews from others. Seems the concensus is that this 'wasn't one of Woody Allen's best.' I beg to differ. I think Celebrity was his absolute worst and that Match Point was one of his best. To each his own.

So, T and I have been on five dates now, and... I have to admit in this anonymous, no-commitment forum that I'm really starting to form an attachment. Gooh. I get a little scared when I do that, but hey. Wudda ya gunna do? If this whole dating people thing never really pans out, I can always buy a dog in support of what I've always known.

*Photo is vintage G and Drone fun... Put it up just 'cause.

Stop! Or I'll Shoot My Mom...

Ok, so I wasn't sure if I wanted to bring this up, but I've recounted this story twice to friends and realized that it's too charming (read: ridonkulous) an anecdote to keep from these here Internets. It involves the recent visit from DroneMommy. Now. Something you should know right off the bat: DroneMommy knows exactly how to piss off the Drone. Though my buttons are hidden to most, they are HUGE, OBVIOUS, FLASHING RED, and (apparently) begging to be pushed by the DroneMommy (DM).

First of all, DM decided to plan her lovely visit to NYC the day before her son returned to work after not working for almost TWO. WEEKS. Now. Correct me if I'm misguided here, but I believe that a preponderance of people enjoy spending the last day of ANY vacation (from school, working, researching, farming, cow manure scraping... or what have you) vegging out like lazy bastards. You know, to mentally prepare for a return to whatever task they must return to. To be in the most relaxed state possible in which to handle the return to rigamarole. Well. For Drone, seeing DroneMommy ain't quite the embodiment of nirvana. So. DM decides to come THAT day... and then STAY for one more day whilst Drone is working, making her trip a two-day/two-night affair. And did I mention that DM decided to invite herself to Drone's tiny studio apartment for those two nights? No? I left that out?? Well, it certainly deserves mentioning!!

Breathe. Breathe. OK.

So, the first day of DM's stay was nice. DM arrived at 9 in the morning. I put out of my mind the whole 'Waaa. I have to go to work tomorrow.' shit and decided to enjoy the company of DM. We had brunch with CoolBrit and then walked around my 'hood. After being denied tickets to Match Point (upon seeing "The 4:00 and 6:00 shows are sold OUT!"), DM asked, "Is there anything you need to do for YOU? I don't mind." Uhhh. Since when don't you mind, uhm, anything, DM. Love you lots, but... gimme a break. She continues to press, so I said that I could benefit from a haircut. I go to a traditional barber who wanted to shave my beard with a straight razor. I consented. One hour later, DM was complaining, "My. That took a really long time... I wish we could have been spending that time together."

Breathe. Breathe, Drone.

We proceeded to one of DM's self-professed 'favorite' restaurants in New York. Before DM came, she specifically requested to go to this place. I thought, having been to said establishment each and every time she had visited before, that perhaps she'd like to try something new. NO. "I love it!" OK OK OK. Right. Well. Dinner that night: DM complained out the wazoo--everything from service to food quality to price. Gooh. The kicker? "Maybe we should have tried something new?" Gee. Why didn't I think of that?

Slept OK that night... though I was mildly creeped out by having to sleep in the same bed with my mom. Next morning: surprise! Work!! Hurray!!! Left SUPER early for work so that I could (admittedly) escape DM. She wanted to have lunch, so I met her for my lunchbreak. Had a nice enough meal. Then, DM asked how early I could get out of work to have dinner with her.

"Uhm. 7?"

[Audible huff.] "I don't eat dinner after 7:30."

"oooooo kaaaaaaay. 6?"

"No, no. It's OK. I'll just eat without you. Wouldn't want you to leave work too early for your mother."

Breathe, Drone. Breeeeeathe.

"5?"

"OK. Great!"

Please note, that I have never left work at 5, so I seriously had to sneak out of the office. I felt horrible about doing so... which the DM could sense and then guilt-tripped me like noone's business. It was at this point that she informed me, "I really decided to come because I was on the East Coast and thought you'd be mad if I didn't come to see you.... I mean, I love seeing you, but I thought you'd be hurt if I didn't."

Uhhhh. I said straight out that I wouldn't have been hurt. We did our version of patching things up... right after DM guilted the Drone with how she can't afford to stay in a hotel. At least, I thought, tonight would be the last night before DM's departure the next morning. Well, it gets *better*...

Fast forward to 1AM that night, morning. The DM is ripping the Drone out of bed.

"I smell smoke!"

"Whu... Huh [rubbing eyes]... Uhm... there are a lot of smokers in the building?"

Well, two seconds later, I could hear the walkie talkie of a firefighter in my building. Sweet karma. I hate you. Apparently, some dude's computer overheated and exploded. No big deal, BUT. Upon hearing the firefighters, the DM decided to run out into the hall and proclaim, "There's a FIRE in the building!!" Thankfully (note sarcasm), my neighbors (to whom I have, intentionally, never spoken to) decided to come out and engage my mother! The DM then proceeds to engage in a verbal tiff with my neighbors...

"You really shouldn't shout that there's a fire if you don't know for sure ma'am..." said the neighbor.

I actually agreed with this neighborly insight.

"Are you my son's NEIGHBOR?!"

Oh God Oh God Oh God. At this point, I literally ran and hid under the covers. Eventually, DM came back inside the apartment and went to bed. I couldn't sleep all night because I was really livid that she had crossed my prized boundary of domestic anonymity.

The next morning, I couldn't leave my apartment fast enough. I almost literally shoved DM out. She insisted on (extending my misery and) walking me to work. Which she did. Lesson learned: noone cohabitates with the Drone when visiting... and by noone I mean DroneMommy.

Now BEAR with me

Yes, dearest G, you'd be correct. I was referring to my holiday nudity. No accidental infraction this time.

SO. Christmas was great. The Drone spent it in the City with friend CoolBrit (CB). We played the happy platonic couple by sharing Christmas Eve dinner together and opening Christmas Day presents together. It was great. So bare naked moment #1 came on Christmas Eve when I abandoned my dear CB to meet up with a long-distance... partner in flirtation (who lives in LA but was visiting NYC that night)... at said partner's hotel room for a much-needed night of... nakedness. The next morning, shirking all thoughts of how weird it was that I was waking up on Christmas morning with an LA-based hook-up buddy in a hotel room, I took a cab back to CB's place in time for our 8AM coffee and presents. I'm nothing if not reliable and punctual. Even a booty call won't keep the Drone from traditional festivities. So that was odd, but I was seriously in need of affection and attention.

The rest of Christmas was great. Saw The Family Stone (Eh), Brokeback Mountain (Excellent), and Memoirs of a Geisha (Visually stunning but mediocre otherwise) over my one-and-a-half week vacation. New Year's Eve was awesome. Unplanned. Zero stress. Involving all of my closest friends. Started out at CoolBrooklyn's house for drinking at 3PM. By 6PM, ten people were partying at CB's place. By 11, we were hauling it into the City to party with CoolBrit and her friends.

We all met here for a, surprisingly, hassle free New Year's ring-in. No cover. Not packed but busy, drinks all around, and a traditional countdown. Best ever. Truly enjoyed seeing my lovely G both collapse (with my best friend CB in tow) and walk into the ladies' room with her hair tied into the 'I'm about to puke wish me luck' bun that is ever-so fashionable. What a night indeed.

On the possible significant other (s.o.) front, Drone met someone named T right before Christmas break (quasi-bare naked moment #2). T and Drone enjoyed two dates before T went home to Arizona for break. Fast forward two weeks and waaaaay too many E-mails and text messages later, T and Drone were reunited about a week ago. I'm feeling good about this one, people. We shall see. We. Shall. See.

Bare with me

Do as the title says, and know that I still love you all. I'm seriously starting to consider signing up for the Internets at home so that I can blog from locations other than my office desk and at speeds other than warp. Christmas and New Year's Eve were actually... get this... amazing. DroneMommy, however, decided to visit on Drone's last day of vacation (i.e., the day every normal human being likes to veg and mentally prepare for a return to corporatism) and STAY while Drone worked. Did I mention that DroneMommy chose to stay in Drone's studio apartment with Drone? Mmm. I just love sleeping in my reading chair. Anywho.

Things to look forward to:

*Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve re-caps;

*My Christmas Eve one-night-stand with a visitor from LA... that was actually cool;

*The new contender for Drone's love interest (not the above, sadly);

*And.... some other intriguing, wildly interesting shiznit.