Citizen Stain

Wife Swap used to be one of my favorite shows. My roommate and I used to DVR it each week. I'd lost interest in the past year though, until the REIGN OF STEPHEN FOWLER and the media frenzy that has surrounded him. 

For those who don't know, Fowler is a British expat living in San Francisco with his American-born wife, Renee, and two kids. The two claimed to be environmentalists, and were raising their kids as "citizens of the world". Renee ran a business as a weight-loss hypnotherapist. They swapped with Alan and Gayla Long of Missouri, a family whose diet consisted of fast food, and favorite pastimes were playing paint ball, and riding ATV's. Alan believed Gayla should handle the domestic responsibilities of the home, calling it "skirt work."

Real controversy began when the media began repeatedly showing clips of Fowler berating simpleton Gayla, failing to show the negative side of the Missouri family's lifestyle. While a sweet woman, Gayla is clearly undereducated, and Fowler took every chance he got to say terrible things to her calling her "undereducated, over-opinionated, and overweight" to her face. There is no excuse for Fowler's behavior, but Alan Long was pig-headed in his own rite, failing to care for the health of his kids nor their futures. The rules in which Gayla tries to implement in the home are not exactly the most valuable, nor the best way to approach Fowler-- especially in comparison to those that Renee Stephens brings to the Long home.

See rule change here:

By the end of the episode, the Longs do learn from Renee's rule change-- mainly that they need to change their diets, as well as concentrate a bit more on education for a brighter future, where as the Stephens/Fowlers come away with nothing. Alan Long surprisingly makes one of the most pertinent points at the table meeting when he tells Renee, "Your support system will mock your passion." This emphasizes for me that no matter the level of education, beauty, or well-roundedness, they may all be discounted by lack of kindness. I'm sure Stephen Fowler will be paying for his sins far after the media forgets. 

OCTOMOM: Eight Lies To Sell You

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THE FUTURE!

This is the uniform at my office now. Sort of headache inducing, but hey, FASHION FIRST!

I. NEED. JOB.

I don't read Gawker daily, but I just caught up on the back-posts and, wow, they are on top of their shit! I wasn't really going to talk about this, but since GAWKER is, I suppose I will too.

Last Thursday, June 26th after organizing a huge breakfast for some PR company beauty product launch in the place of my previously happy employment, I was called to a meeting with the general manager of the place. In that meeting, the grand announcement was that the restaurant had been sold, and everyone there was immediately out of a job. That place was Bette-- owned by Miss Bungalow 8 "Nightlife Queen" Amy Sacco, which Gawker knew about the next day. CRAZY.

Here's the article:

Is this the end of Amy Sacco? We're going to say it is. The onetime NYC nightlife queen's restaurant Bette in Chelsea—formerly considered a complement to her club Bungalow 8, a food-and-fun empire that would never be destroyed—is closed. No big to-do; just a lock on the door, and the end of an era. What happened?

A tipster to Eater says:

At Bette last night for the closing party. I live and work in the area and dined there fairly regularly. The bartender told me that Amy Sacco sold the restaurant and gave the staff about 8 hours notice.

Cold. Why, we remember a few years back when we were talking about Sacco's "quest for total domination," and HBO was planning a story about her rise to fame. She had so much success in the city, she said she'd rather die than return to her native Jersey.

Then things started to slowly go downhill. Rumors flew that Sacco was stiffing her PR agency; the usual suspects started placing bets on when Bungalow 8 would close. Her doorman struck out on his own. She tried to export her magic to London, but failed to find the same popularity.

Sacco recently called New York nightlife—and herself—"overrated." Now she's been proven right.

YES, GAWKER. The notice given was completely cold. I cannot say much more, as I loved working at Bette. I loved all those I worked with, although I stood in the same room with Amy only once the entire time I worked there (She did give me hand-me-downs from goody bags she didn't want though, which was nice.) I actually had gotten up at 5am to throw a private event beginning at 7am that ended up being a total stressful nightmare, to only have my hard work followed by the news that I was out of a job before noon. I might as well tell you friends, lurkers, and stalkers, I was and still am in shock.  The meeting promptly commenced with a round of drinks on Bette. Cheers! 

(I did not attend the closing party, however. I chose to stay home and ordered Chinese food, watched movies with my boyfriend, and sulked like a good sport.)

NOTE: Even though it's easy and fun to pick on Ms. Sacco, we should all be looking at this from a much broader angle. I've watched the cover counts in several popular restaurants in NYC decline over the past year or so, and it wasn't because they had lost their edge. People simply can't afford to blow all their dough on decadent dining right now! Sacco's decision to chuck Bette was probably just good business sense. She's simply cutting off the (non-profitable) fat to save room for the meat (i.e. whatever other endeavors she is sitting on these days.) As I mentioned in my previous post, Jann Wenner may be looking to do the same thing! Everyone knows the economy is in the toilet, but if the rich kids are watching their backs, is anyone looking out for the rest of us?

Should I STAY or Should I GO!!

Since Gossip Girl is almost over, I must get in some commentary here. The season finale is next week! I feel like the show just started. Damn.

All I really have to say is:

1. I hope Dan gets oral herpes. How could he turn his back on Serena so quickly? WHAT A SNAKE!

2. WHERE THE F- WAS JENNY??!




No one even mentioned her during the whole episode, even though she wasn't at her dad's big errr "gig." Did I miss something? A murmur of her name? "Oh Jenny is off at Grandma's house in Queens?" Something??! Maybe they were too star struck by Lisa Loeb (DUDE, somebody must be struggling to make rent. I seriously hope they had her on suicide watch after singing that song for the 429734982397th time. Seeing her panties on her reality show was real enough for me. Seeing her cling to her last 15 seconds by playing the character of herself [a washed up 90's one hit wonder] is just too depressing. Please, don't stay, Lisa. GO. FAR AWAY!)

Man, I can't believe the season is almost over. I can't wait to hear S call G a 'manipulative little B' and scratch her eyes out.

Give Them Back Their Drugs.

Startled awake by a nightmare, I lay in bed glancing around the room as the sun cast an amber glow through my curtains. I was too lazy to get up and check the time but I was still aware that it was early, so I fought the boogie man in my head and tried to get back to sleep. Just as I neared slumber, the shrill ring of my cell phone startled me awake again. It was H--, "Oh I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Um. Yeah. What time is it?"

"Like, uh 9:30am. I-just-left-that-peyote-ceremony-I'm-not-really-tripping-anymore-I-just-needed-to-talk-to-someone-OH-MY-GOD-It-was-nuts." She sped through the sentences like if she didn't tell me the night would have never happened.

"Peyote ceremony? Wha?" I was totally confused, a little annoyed because I wanted more sleep, but intrigued enough to listen.

So my friend ended up going to some wack "Navajo Peyote Ceremony" that ended up being a total cult experience. (NOT a real ceremony. The Native Americans who were there even told her that they had been paid to be there. This had nothing to do with the Native American church.) I am actually really interested in doing something like this, but I've always heard of it being done in the middle of the desert in Arizona. If it were in New York, perhaps upstate in the woods. IN NATURE, you know?? My friend spent the night in a yoga studio surrounded by freakazoids.

She took notes during the time she was there, which are just too hilarious not to share. So this goes out to you, H--. You know you love me. xoxo, Gossip Girl

I am typing what I wrote down into a notebook during this whole freakshow. I was only able to jot a few things down in the very beginning before "Manuel", the psychotic cult leader whose message is "you are special. we are a family", walked up to me and grabbed the pen and paper out of my hand. I was "on peyote" during this part...administered by the Native American Church unlike the crazy juice this freakshow produced later in the night. Anyway, the fact that I'm out of my mind on peyote in a room of strangers and can still see this so clearly is what's funny. (In case you weren't going to get it.) Also, I threw out "Gringos"...come on.


5/2/08 no idea what time it is

I ate a bunch of "medicine". All these people are nice and this is pleasant. I'm supposed to be "healing" and figuring out what I need to change within myself. This whole thing caters to deeply disturbed people. I know because I consider myself fucked...but now believe I am the most stable person here. Someone from CONNECTICUT just sang "Somewhere over the Rainbow", for fuck's sake. I mean, go for it, whatever makes you happy...but this is just silly. :)

p.s. I vomited profusely the moment I ended that. Eerie. The Gods think I'm an asshole??


part 2.

Everyone is having some sort of "spiritual awakening". Here is what I think:

The Native Americans running this shit are fucking rad. Funny and not taking it so seriously (because this CLEARLY is not a real peyote ceremony!). And anyway, dude, the last time this ceremony was to be taken seriously (insert witty comparison here)...fuck these gringos. I am going to pray..."learn how to pray" because I'm an asshole and could probably benefit from this bullshit.

p.s. How come no one else wants to write?! How is that possible???


part 3.

THE SPIRIT? I JUST FEEL LIKE I'M ON DRUGS, MAN. "I AM THE GOLDEN GOD!"


We had to kneel and the spirit dude flicks feathers on you. I had on a really short plaid dress and asked ____ if maybe it was hot? HAHA. Her reply: "NO ONE is on that wavelength. No one...but you."


Literally passing the peacepipe! THIS RULES!


These notes are making me feel shallow (or not?). must stop now.

"Manuel" got up out of nowhere and blessed me with a feather for a while. There are 50 people here loving this and he chose to bless the one cynic (sane person?). I looked at ____ when it was happening and she sort of smirked and rolled her eyes.

Manuel has a hot "companion"...threesome? JK!!! note to self: get laid.


Joining in consciousness with everyone else. No more of this funny shit I'm only writing so I can email it to people to make them laugh. If you are reading this, I bet it's because I emailed it to you. Sigh-so predictable.

OK - prayer and feeling the cosmic rhythms of my brothers and sisters to my right...I mean to the east. LOL!!!!


Is it that I'm too smart to participate in this loving, happy little ceremony? Again, I am into this only because the Native Americans are rad. Koali (head Native Am. dude) and I had a moment because I was cupping a cactus in my hands and laughing [sidenote: important thing to remember is how dead serious everyone else was]. We are maybe on the same wavelength: "Yes, this is a bunch of people on drugs.", but I think maybe he's just nice and thinks it's cute that I'm kind of a jerk.

Dude, he just said, "a fresh medicine always helps!" and started cracking the fuck up, COME ON.

I accepted something that looked like iced tea but is really some "grandmother drug" for "mind and emotion". FUCK! I do not need a drug to draw out my emotions. (written 100 times on a chalkboard.)

I think it's 5:30am.

I AM SPECIAL. WE ARE FAMILY. I AM SPECIAL. WE ARE--AHHH!