You know how sometimes a drunk person will lip sync a song to one of their friends and use dramatic exaggerated gestures that communicate that they're doing it ironically and to be hilarious? That's what Heidi Montag seems to be doing in her video, only not as a joke.
Because people keep sending it: Jared Leto and Paris Hilton Kissed. (What are they supposed to do, have a conversation?)
...but there's a part of my brain that was sealed in amber the first time I saw Top Gun that is like "he's SOOO CUTE!!"
Let's remember Tom the way he was:
(Creepy video if you haven't seen.)
* Zulkey has an excellent and really informative interview with Anil Dash. It rocks. His part of the tag is "bloggers/blogging". "celebrity douchebags" is next...
* I've seen about 20 blog posts about Britney Spears' posting that her umbrella incident was all about her preparing for a role, but I haven't seen a single one that acknowledges that she is clearly being sarcastic. I mean, it's not like she's mastered the art of parody but it still seems obvious. I can't believe I just posted about BS.
* Jezebel is my kind of site and required daily reading. I can't believe I once thought it was going to be for the scary sadshaw demo. Totally the opposite. Nice!
On this week's The Sound of Young America Podcast:
Jesse Thorn interviews my pals Amelie Gillette and Alex Blagg about "celebrity snark". Both Amelie and Alex defend the views of my other friend, "The Editor of Gawker Media" (sic, why can't anyone get it right?) Emily Gould against Jesse's seemingly unwavering adoration for Jimmy Kimmel, his suspenders, and his completely hypocritical views on celebrities. (Ok, I may be a leeeeetle biased.)
Whether or not I agree with Jesse (or his devil's advocate position, possibly) about the necessity of alternatives to the publicity machine when it comes to celebrity coverage, I donate to The Sound of Young America every month and you should too.
Chris Mohney put up a series of emails he had with the Mis*hapes last summer, and they are day-makingly delicious.
* I have a favorite pair of boobs on Jane Magazine's boob slideshow (what, you don't?): Jules
I want her to design me some jewelry! Literally! I like free stuff.
* Totally gross sad awesome story about a silly girl who did it with Jared L. (Thanks, Kambri!)
Dear McSweeneys,
I gave you $100 for a lifetime subscription when I was a student paying my own way through school. Since I'm still paying off my student loans, that $100 is probably $500 now. Also, I think at that point it was the most money I'd ever spent on one thing.
In short, no f**king way.
Sincerely,
Lindsay Robertson, lifetime subscriber since 1999
My friend John Green sat next to Jared Leto on a flight this morning. (Okay, maybe, but survey his evidence!)
(I'm 30 today, hence the Google-inspired header. Thank you to my friends for all the fun last week!)
Moving on: Three reasons Jimmy Kimmel is Cool:
1. Sarah Silverman
2. 'The Week in Unnecessary Censorship'
3. His dead-on description of Jared Leto in Page Six today:
"He was so insufferably satisfied with himself that I wanted to strangle him."
It's like he knows it's my birthday or something...
* That's from 13 Going on 30. I would never actually say-that - say-that.
The Definition of 'Insult to Injury':
Sustaining a near-life-threatening papercut one second after reading Jaime Pressly's "What I've Learned" in (the paper version of) Esquire.
Also, if you dare read it (at least you won't bleed from the pinky, just the eyes), you'll learn that we can add Jaime to the list (is someone keeping a list? Someone should keep a list) of celebrities who claim to have originally been booked on one of the 9/11 flights.
BUT SHE DOESN'T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT IT, mmmkay?
I actually like the What I've Learned feature, but have they run out of people who've learned things that aren't celebrations of their own accomplishments? I'm looking at you, Clive Davis. I'll remember your immortal words of wisdom the next time it's my turn to sign the Grateful Dead and Lou Reed to record deals, or Dionne Warwick calls me to complain about something. I mean, like, what?
I mean, shit, I've learned that I'm awesome too but that's clearly not the point of the assignment.
Alan Arkin's was good, though. And the joint interview with Silverman and Kimmel was fascinating. I especially liked Sarah's advice to Jimmy on getting along with one's parents:
"Here's what Sarah taught me about getting along with my own parents: Try to pretend they're someone else's parents. If you do that, the little things that annoy you that don't annoy anyone else are much more tolerable."
Just in time for the Holidays!
Britney Spears: If I Had a Vagina, Here's What It Would Look Like
Friend: Do you want Jared Leto's email address for any reason?
Lindsay: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Lindsay: no. but that's funny.
Friend: I thought you'd like it.
(It would sort of be fun to pretend to be Lohan with a new email address or something totally awesome and wrong like that, but despite what all the Team Pam stuff and whatnot might indicate lately, I do actually have a life.)
(Truly scary. Photo by Jen.) (Update: here's another one. What red eyes I have! Please notice I painted 30 Seconds to Mars stupid symbols on my tshirt with fabric paint.)
I was Jared Leto on Saturday, which was Halloween for me (and apparently most of the city). Yes, I had to tell people and hold up my Summer's Emo Douche (Jared's home sweet home) for them to get it, and by 3 am I was loudly complaining to anyone who would listen and roll their eyes that I was "So ready to be pretty again," but it was my most fun Halloween in New York, for sure.
As my friends at the post-apocalyptic Spring Street party (frat boy interlopers unsuccessfully attempting to scavenge my group's well-hidden beer stash: "I heard the guy who lives here owns a hedge fund.") can attest, all it takes is a few sprays of temporary black hair dye and some eyeliner to turn me into a full on BADASS. So much so that I might be disguising my identity in order to verbally eviscerate bathroom-line-cutting-prostitutes at regular parties in the future. I just need a superhero name...
More Leto fun: Best Week Ever mashes up their favorite Leto movie moments.
Oh. My. God. Just as I was putting together my best Halloween costume ever (third from left, duh!) Best Week Ever posts this exclusive:
So it's probably not that big of a deal (haven't talked to Scott yet but his post about whatever MTV event this happened at last night proves that his "blogging finger" (hilarious, Blagg) is intact.)
I just want remind everyone that I pointed out JL's douchebaggery first. Really. First.
(The "celebrity douchebags" category is almost completely dominated by him as well.)
If Mark is in any way responsible for Jared Leto talking about "making love" during the only five seconds of the VMAs I watched last night, we are no longer friends.
* This is old, but I just saw it: Ellen Pompeo being Punk'd. What an asshole! (And it's interesting that she makes fun of the waitress's makeup, since in every episode of Grey's Anatomy she looks like someone rubbed Cheetos all over her face.)
* Stephen Colbert, made out of Legos!
So, like, Ashley Judd went to rehab for, like, the human condition? Being a person? Living in the world? Existential ennui? The sickness unto sleeping a little bit too much?
But more important: if I decide I need a trip to the narcissist colony like this, will Viacom pay for it?
I'm starting to think my Breakup Camp Highdea is actually the wave of the future.
Last week, Kambri sent me to this amazing site where I was enthralled for, well, minutes, but that's a lot of web-enthrallment for me: celebrity lookalikes for hire. Like Unfortunate David Schwimmers 1:
And 2:
And Julia Roberts:
These aren't even close to being the funniest ones, I just got tired of uploading photos on a free site because of blogger sucking. The site must be fully explored to be appreciated.
UPDATE: Apparently this was on CityRag in April, I have no idea how I missed it!
(Nobody's going to talk about this outside of email? Fuck it, I'll talk about this!)
Yesterday, blogger and self-described famous public figure Stephanie Klein announced that she was pregnant. Her commenters went crazy with joy, posting 100 comments of congratulations in the comment section. Then, much later that day, Stephanie posted that in actuality, long before her announcement, the fetus was found to be deformed and that she was no longer pregnant.
Everything above appeared on Stephanie's blog, where she seems to be basking in the attention of her Oprah's-audience-like followers.
So what are we, Stephanie's public, to make of all this?
If I might share what appears outside of Stephanie's moderated comments section to be the unanimous opinion: we are no longer dealing with the world's worst, yet most self-congratulatory blogger. We are now dealing with a person who wasn't going to let a little thing like a nonexistent baby get in the way of her pregnancy attention.
What kind of person would use something as tragic as the loss of their pregnancy as fodder for a BLOG that deals primarily with what she's eating (and who she's fucking) for dinner? That includes more than 12,000 individual words about her hair?
You can say that I'm mean, you can say that this kind of thing is off-limits, but I say that what's off limits the degree of manipulation that went into what at best was a publicity stunt and what at worst was a cry for help by a very sick person.
Actually, at worst it was a publicity stunt. I'm not a psychiatrist, but if I were I would spend the rest of my life swimming in a large pool filled with the grant money I'd get using Stephanie as a research subject. Sweetie, I know you're reading this: go get help. You're going to make some Amsterdam Avenue shrink very happy.
Cityrag breaks down the web-lash against Jared Leto, and points to this awesomeness created by Junk Feud:
If you know someone who likes Jared Leto...that person is NOT your friend. Stop the douche!
There but for the grace of God goes Scott Stapp. Oh wait, his MissShapes party is next week. My bad!
Don't feel bad for Jared. He's a really horrible guy and I've witnessed it with my own eyes and ears. See? A quote:
"It's all about the music, you know? It's not about Hollywood, or who my girlfriend is, or what movies I'm in, like Panic Room, which just came out."
(cough) Douchebag! (cough)
(Full disclosure: No promoters or record labels paid me to say Jared Leto is not cool.)
It's Friday! Time for Blue States Lose, which has more on the disturbing supervillian mask trend among our nation's fame-hungry retards.
(He probably stole this seat.)
Remember when I wrote about Jared Leto's rampage of douchery? Well there's a new Sheriff of Doucheville (although not nearly as bad.)
Niki Schwartz-Wright sent me this story about Josh Hartnett at Max Fish the other night.
"I have NEVER done anything like this before, however, Josh Hartnett was SUCH a prick to me the other night at Max Fish, that I think he may be (well not quite) at Jared Leto Douchebag status.
Tuesday night I was at MaxFish with one of my girlfriends. We were there pretty early, just to have a couple drinks and catch up. We sat down at one of the 2 person tables on the wall, when Josh Hartnett came up to us and asked if we minded if he took the two small tables next to us. Of course we told him yes, slightly red-faced from his extreme hotness. Anyways for the next half hour we struggled to hold a conversation as he sat there with 3 of his friends talking. I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help it.
Within an hour the bar got pretty crowded, and more of his friends came up. We let some of them squeeze in and were practically being pushed off our seats. He gets up to go to the bar and I see him talking to these two model-y looking girls (scarlett jo was nowhere to be seen). He starts motioning over to me and my friend. Finally he comes over, sits down and puts his elbows on our table.
"Excuse me, girls? I hate to interrupt you, and I REALLY don't want to ruin your night, but do you think there's anyway you guys could give up your seats so that my friends can join us?"
I look over towards the crowded bar.
I say "um, should we just go stand at the crowded bar?" keep in mind, we had been there first!
"No no, there are like 8 empty tables in the back" And now there are like 8 of his asshole friends glaring at us. What I should have said was, then why= don't you guys re-locate? The only thing I could muster was "I'm glad to see you're putting your star power to good use" and we got up and left.
There was ONE BENCH left next to the bathrooms. He didn't even offer to buy us a drink. I should've told him I had seen Hollywood Homicide and that's why I wouldn't move.
Anyways, he was an all around douchebag asshole."
(Thanks, Niki!)
And speaking of seating issues at Max Fish, here's the poorly-self-designed story of the time I was kicked out after being assaulted (well, in legal terms) by one of the bartenders. I never did call or do anything about it because being victimy isn't my style. (And I'm the one who buys ink by the barrel in this equation!)
Remember the Biggest Douche in the World? Well, he's apparently still at it.
(Thanks to Mark for standing Leto-watch and pointing it out.)
* I'm going to L.A. for work tomorrow through Monday, so I probably won't blog again until Tuesday. It's my first time visiting California, and while I'm sure I'll experience culture shock due to the traffic, smog, tans, Uggs, fake boobs, big cars, and strip malls, my weekend adventures in red light right-turns will not be documented here because I had this ephiphany: I will not be the first New Yorker to ever visit L.A. (Note: I will amend this policy if something particularly interesting happens, like I run into Jared Leto and get my picture with him while secretly holding a sign that says "Douche" and points to him or something. Yes, I had that blog-coup fantasy. Shut up.)
* On Sunday night at 10, watch my favorite comedian, Patton Oswalt's new one-hour comedy special on Comedy Central: Patton Oswalt: No Reason To Complain. Julie the Co-worker did a funny backstage interview with Patton a few weeks ago, in which he shares his Zombie preferences.
* I like this site: The Polka Dot Life. My favorites are the neck warmers and the jewelry. They'll have a booth on Sunday from 11:30-4 at Tonic's tag sale.
* My friend, Flak Magazine's Jim Norton, will be a guest on Al Franken's show on Air America today, around 1:30. He'll be talking about this week's Weekly Shredder.
So that "Nearsighted Item" "feature" thing was a success, huh? So who should the next target be? If you have a story about a celebrity who was a huge, entitled, smug, own-hype-believing self-taking-too-seriously asshole, send it here. Be sure to mention whether you want your name/link used. (And, like, "I tried to take a picture of Gwyneth's baby and Gwyneth frowned at me" doesn't count.)
It seems that the Douche I've been writing about the past few days has cut a Swath of Douchery across this great nation. The latest report comes in from Atlanta:
"I live in Atlanta and used to work at a Tower Records here. A few years ago, Douche's shitty band toured with Sevendust (wow, what an amazing bill that was) and since Sevendust is from Atlanta they stayed here for a couple of days. They did an instore at my Tower, and Douche did the same shit - "Don't say my name on any of the ads, don't mention my movies/tv shows, it's all about the music, maaaaan" - and was just generally an asshole to all of the staff. (He was also wearing the WORST clothes i have ever seen, sort of like a male Chloe Sevigny. All i remember is some, like, fluorescent yellow bib overalls tucked into unlaced combat boots and only half of his head shaved or something.) (Ed: he was dressed very similarly when I met him, a month later.)
A fellow staff member at Tower was related to one of the guys in Sevendust, and since it was Thanksgiving, Sevendust scheduled this tour stop so that they could visit with their families. They all went to my co-workers house - Sevendust along with Douche's band, I guess because they didn't really know anyone else and it was Thanksgiving - where Sevendust's moms and grandmas had prepared Thanksgiving dinner for everyone.
My friend came in the next day and said that Douche was SUCH AN ASSHOLE to everyone the entire time, not even acknowledging that the this family had prepared dinner for everyone and shit and just walked around talking on his cellphone (again, presumably to famous girlfriend) and was just a total dick and ruined the fucking FAMILY THANKSGIVING DINNER.
Why act like you're some "star" when you're in some nice family's dining room and they probably don't even know/care who you are anyway?!"
- April Hornbuckle (Whose email signature, I must point out, is one of the best Mr. Show quotes ever:
"Opinions are like assholes - I'll let you know when I want yours.") Thanks, April!
.
My friend Billy Manes writes an uproariously witty column for Orlando Weekly, in which he interviewed some actor with a band named "Jared Leto" in, what a coincidence, December of 2002. It's really funny. It seems I've heard of this actor...not sure where. Oh well. Anyway:
(Here is the story of the Biggest Douche I've Ever Met. Since he happens to be famous, I'm not going to say his name, but you'll know who it is.)
In Christmas of 2002, I went home to Tallahassee, Florida to spend the holidays with my family. As usual, I hung out with my good friend there who owns Tallahassee's best music venue. He told me about the show they were having that night, and rolled his eyes as he said who the band was "It's that guy from that (edgy drug movie). He has a band now."
"Omg, ___ ______ has a band?" I said.
"Yeah. They made us give them a $700 (NOTE: I originally thought it was $7000 but my friend finally read this and corrected me. My bad. But that's still ridiculous!) guarantee even though nobody has ever heard of his stupid band. And get this - his booker called a couple weeks ago, after the deal was done, and told me that I can't refer to (Douche) in any way when I advertise the show. So, basically, I've guaranteed them $700 for a show nobody is going to go to. Apparently, he wants to "make it as a band the traditional way without using his name as an actor"
I asked him what he was going to do and he laughed "Oh, fuck them, I wrote "Lead singer is ____ ______ from (edgy drug movie) and (beloved-but-cancelled teenage TV series from the mid-90's)" on all the flyers we put on campus, and mentioned it in the ad we put in the paper."
Just then, the phone rang. It was the co-owner of the club calling with a problem. Apparently, the band had just arrived and had found one of the flyers in the bathroom trash can, and were livid. So I went with my friend down to the club.
When we got there, the first thing I noticed was the huge "Britney bus" in the parking lot. (Yeah, Douche, you're a real musician, struggling on the road, you're so punk rock...)
Douche was on the front deck of the club, screaming into a cellphone. "This is unbelievable!" he shouted. "There is no way we're playing here now!"
So basically, he threw a huge fit and kept running around the parking lot yelling on the phone about how the club had "violated the contract" and shit. So my friend runs into the club office and reads the entire contract. Nowhere in it does it say anything about advertising! So he brings it out and shows it to Douche, who goes inside the bus and comes out and says "fine, we'll play."
(A note about Douche's looks. Okay, so this guy dates Hollywood starlets and is considered something of a heartthrob, right? Well, all I'm saying is, I'm not a Hollywood starlet, I'm just a normal person, and I would not date this guy. He's just so clearly a total TOOL in every way, and his looks, which come across okay on screen, are just really strange in real life. And he's teensy-tiny and extremely effeminate. Just basically totally not my type. But whatever, that's not the point.)
Later that night, I arrive for the show (hey, free drinks and there's nothing else to do in Tallahassee) and Douche is in the parking lot on his phone. "Awww, you're seeing The Strokes tonight, baby?" he said (um, yeah, I was totally eavesdropping, shut up) I assumed he was talking to his then-girlfriend, who was in two blockbuster action movies with Drew Barrymore "Say hi to Drew and them." he said.
So the band sucks, I mean, plays, and oh my god did they blow, but sure enough, the room was chock-full of giggly Wet Seal-clad sorority chicks from FSU, who were all no doubt there to see J_____ C______, Douche's character on the mid-90's TV series.
After the show, my friend the club owner was sitting at the bar talking to some friends when Douche walked by him and totally intentionally ran into him hard with his shoulder and kept walking. What a fucking tool! Who even DOES that?
Later, out on the deck, Douche was holding forth before a giddy cabal of dreamy-eyed coeds. I stood off to the side with my Polaroid around my neck, commenting bitchily with my friends on the sight. He actually said the following, swear to God, may I be struck down if a word of this is a lie or exaggeration:
"It's all about the music, you know? It's not about Hollywood, or who my girlfriend is, or what movies I'm in, like Panic Room, which just came out."
Suddenly, a girl runs up to me and says "Oh my god, I will love you forever if you let me use your camera! Does it have film?" So I let her and her friends get pictures with Douche, who posed with his eyes wide and his cheeks sucked in. Soon, other girls were begging for the camera, so I let them use it too.
"Don't you want a picture?" Douche actually asked me. "Um...surre?" I said. So I posed for a polaroid, which I still have. My friends who took it were making faces at me and I was trying SO hard not to laugh.
So then I went home, and the club actually recouped their $700 guarantee, and the rest is the stuff of legend at the club. And now, whenever I read that he's dating the latest indie It Girl or whatever, all I can think is "Wow, she must be a total idiot." The End.
(Do you have a story like this that you're dying to share? Send it to me and I'll turn it into a Nearsighted Item. I'm not worried.)
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