So my bestie Erin and I had the greatest experience of a lifetime yesterday. The kind that you know you’ll never be able to beat, even if you win the lottery and gain the abilties to fly and teleport. I’ll just let her introduce it. Take it away, Erin:

After 5 p.m. my job gets really boring. I tend to sit at my desk and refresh my Facebook mini feed for the two hours that follow, while cleaning my nails with an industrial paperclip. What’s that! There’s something in my inbox!

“I work with whitney port on the hills and she spoke very highly of you. Wanted to get in touch if you are still livinng in NY. Please call. [number redacted]. thanks Adam DiVello”

What?! This can’t be real! I love Whitney Port! Yet, it is a love that can only exist when people do not actually know Whitney Port, and her sweet, sing-songy, slightly nasal tone when she says, “It’s really hard work here but prolly you could get an intership or something.” God Bless Whitney Port.

This was very exciting to me when I received her gchat about it. Erin prefaced the message by mentioning the Facebook message was her “favorite Facebook spam message of all time.” Since a phone number was attached I offered to call it and see what the deal was, expecting to get a machine advertising penis enlarging snake oil that can provide pure sensual delight for my lassie and make me a new age pleasure machine. Surprisingly someone actually picked up. The following conversation is per my memory: Read More!

I’m finally brewing my own kombucha just like I always wanted!! Here’s a picture of the baby good friend Josh Thorson handed off to me at the last Metropolitan BBQ.

That’s the kombucha in front of the beers. I seem to have successfully avoided contamination and have moved it into a jar/jug with sweetened tea that it is happily fermenting. Read More!

Get ready for me to geek out. Probably two people who have ever read this blog will find this interesting. As a result, almost all of this is behind the jump.

So I work for an undisclosed company on undisclosed web projects. Point is, I saw a proposal from an anonymous corporate communications company today that made me vomit into a bag when I left my cubicle. Read More!

WHY ARE YOU STILL ON THE SHOW?!?!?!?!

Seriously, every week the judges complain about how Lisa doesn’t season her food properly. In my eyes that’s a cardinal sin and shows that she just has no tastebuds… because all of her “confessionals” are her talking about how her “flavors are there.” There’s also tons of clips of her tasting stuff and pondering whether it needs more salt or sweet or whatever. I just want to grab and twist her neck fat every time she makes a negative comment and acts overconfident in the ability she doesn’t have compared to the other chefs. Read More!

So this last weekend was a big movie weekend for me. Not only did I see Sex and the City but I also saw a superior but still awful movie called The Strangers. I went in with fairly high hopes for a trashy, fun horror movie, but unfortunately its only redeeming factor was that you get to see [SPOILER ALERT, ASSHOLES!!!] Liv Tyler get gutted like a fish. Reasons why the movie failed:

• Scott Speedman does not get naked.
• The killers were totally unexplained. While I realize that was the point that was supposed to make them scary, they would be WAY scarier if they were made out to be crazed meth addicts. I mean… really if you’re out on a killing spree at 5am I have a feeling you had a date with Tina that night, and the faces of meth are terrifying (with the exception of the one lady who just turns into Helena Bonham Carter from Harry Potter). Basically I never understood why they had what seemed to be super powers and secret access to any room in the house.
• Overuse of the gimmick where the killer lurks in the background of the mise en scene unbeknownst to the protagonist on screen.
• The masks the killers wore that concealed their identities the entire movie just weren’s scary.

And on that note, I had some ideas for some masks the killers could wear that would definately make the movie 3.7 times more terrifying (as confirmed by my anecdotal market research of friends via Gchat). Read More!

Guess what? I did you all a huge favor. I made some crappy clips of the movie on my tiny hand held videocam, so now you NEVER have to see the movie because you can see all the pivotal scenes and female squealing you want right here on the interwebs. I broke this down into the three key scenes anyone might see this horrible endorsement of both consumerism and the general enslavement of the female population.

#1 Carrie changes into some outfits.

#2 The pivotal scene where Big leaves Carrie at the altar.

#3 And of course, Charlotte pooping herself.

Now that I’ve made your life complete you can go ahead and hang yourself with your chunky belt you got at Anthopologie because you couldn’t afford Marc Jacobs. That is unless YouTube has taken these down by the time you read this… let’s see how long this lasts.

Last week I cashed in all my Marlboro Camel dollars and scored a trip with reporters aboard Hillary Clinton’s airplane. And I have to say, I may be an Obama supporter but the junior Senator from New York has certainly become more of person whom I can relate to, namely, she marries her DRUNK with the EEMS. That said, what follows is a transcript of of my trip:

Hillary: Weeeeeeeee! *hick* I’m so glad we’re besties. You win. I win. This’s been one, weeeeeee—wait, wheres my cellphone? Wow. It’s been one helluva primary, right, Health Care? Read More!