(Giggle, "come here" motion)
(whispering)
My uterine lining is being shed and so there is a combination of blood and mucus in my pants, being absorbed by a feminine product!
(giggle) #corporateamerica
Whoever came up with this happy horsecrap should be forced to walk around with an old school sanitary belt with pad pinned to it. On the outside of their clothing. #corporateamerica
Manhattan snobbery. A fine tradition with its roots in the Revolutionary War. I believe it was Gen. George Washington who, pushed back by the Redcoats from the Manhattan, who penned the first pretentious article: "'Twas as good a time as any to explore the old village of Brook'lyn as my troops bivouacked on Prospect Hill. I pushed past the prams on the Main Street where crude and lower-caste people of the Nether Lands (along with free'd men of dark completion) perform'd in all mann'rs strange and base. I wrote to Martha that I could not wait to return to the comforts of Islem, where I belong'd."
Later I believe Boss Tweed's Tammany Hall passed the "Manhattan Civilian Act," which required all immigrants to the city (those who moved to the city from the province) to act with extreme airs of pretension in order to gain acceptance, whereupon the blue armbands would be removed and they could feel like higher-class natives to the city.
This tradition has survived to this day, where people from outside of the city move to New York practice becoming "real New Yorkers" by adopting the airs and buying the products embraced by the fictional characters of such televised productions as Sex & The City, Seinfeld, and various films by the famous late 20th Century Ameircan Ashekenazi filmmaker Woody Allen.
It's interesting how much she dwells on the artist's nudity, and her extreme discomfort from being in such close physical proximity to it. Also, the physical contact with said naked woman ("she touched our faces!"). You'd swear there was some kind of denial going on here.
Katie, honey, wrong with a little same-sex sexual tension? Don't you know it's hip for straight girls to have lesbian feelings these days? Even Harvard girls?
In case anyone missed Kate's previous blog entry I'm reposting it here:
Bunny Bixler and I were in the semi-finals - the very semi-finals, mind you - of the ping-pong tournament at the club and this ghastly thing happened. We were both playing way over our heads and the score was 29-28. And we had this really terrific volley and I stepped back to get this really terrific shot. And I stepped on the ping-pong ball! I just squashed it to bits. And then Bunny and I ran to the closet of the game room to get another ping-pong ball and the closet was locked! Imagine? We had to call the whole thing off. Well, it was ghastly. Well, it was just ghastly.
I agree with all the comments. However . . . I'm wondering how this young girl feels after reading the comments on the VF page (and gawker, also, if she actually dared to come here). I get the feeling she thought she was being all hip and stuff when she wrote that drivel but she is now feeling deflated and needs a glass of wine. Poor girl!!
i'm torn between hating her, and not wanting to be yet another woman reflexively bashing a young girl trying to find a point of view for a fucking article.
The whole "how is this person working at Vanity Fair" line of argument is bullshit. She's young, Harvard, cute, well-off: THAT'S WHO WORKS AT VANITY FAIR. For good or for ill, that is what the magazine is about; it's never purported to be anything else. It's not the Daily Worker. It's not Granta. It's not an assistance program for people who dolefully surf Mediabistro. (Incidentally [instert name of dyspeptic commenter here], whoever you are, you probably shouldn't be working at Vanity Fair, despite what you tell yourself, your friends, and your former high school English teacher who mentored you). Shut up already. The post might be tin-eared but it's not surprising.
She's the type of person you go on a date with and listen to her tell you how great she is, and she tells you how she's afraid of squirrels, which you're supposed to think is adorable, but which you find more than a little unbelievable, and you listen because she's vaguely cute and it might be worth it, but after a couple hours, it's no longer worth it and you make up an excuse to get away forever. It's not surprising that she wants to be a writer. Most of these self-absorbed types just want to listen to themselves talk.
@BigRiver: Spot on. And her having hopped around for four years at Harvard in modern dance workshops while the others were doing biomedical engineering projects designed to improve kidney transplant results or plowing their way through Leibniz's collected works in the original Latin and German just clenches the whole thing for me.
10/15/09
(whispering)
My uterine lining is being shed and so there is a combination of blood and mucus in my pants, being absorbed by a feminine product!
(giggle) #corporateamerica
10/15/09
10/15/09
10/15/09
10/15/09
10/15/09
04/08/09
04/08/09
04/08/09
Later I believe Boss Tweed's Tammany Hall passed the "Manhattan Civilian Act," which required all immigrants to the city (those who moved to the city from the province) to act with extreme airs of pretension in order to gain acceptance, whereupon the blue armbands would be removed and they could feel like higher-class natives to the city.
This tradition has survived to this day, where people from outside of the city move to New York practice becoming "real New Yorkers" by adopting the airs and buying the products embraced by the fictional characters of such televised productions as Sex & The City, Seinfeld, and various films by the famous late 20th Century Ameircan Ashekenazi filmmaker Woody Allen.
04/08/09
04/08/09
I know.
04/07/09
Katie, honey, wrong with a little same-sex sexual tension? Don't you know it's hip for straight girls to have lesbian feelings these days? Even Harvard girls?
04/07/09
Bunny Bixler and I were in the semi-finals - the very semi-finals, mind you - of the ping-pong tournament at the club and this ghastly thing happened. We were both playing way over our heads and the score was 29-28. And we had this really terrific volley and I stepped back to get this really terrific shot. And I stepped on the ping-pong ball! I just squashed it to bits. And then Bunny and I ran to the closet of the game room to get another ping-pong ball and the closet was locked! Imagine? We had to call the whole thing off. Well, it was ghastly. Well, it was just ghastly.
04/07/09
04/07/09
04/08/09
04/07/09
04/07/09
04/07/09
I've got a nice bridge for you in Brookly, and I'm selling it cheap.
04/07/09
04/07/09
04/08/09
I usually consider myself 'above' discussing this sort of thing, but whatever-- she's not.
She has a seriously bad case of Inbred Anglo Face.
04/07/09
04/07/09
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04/07/09