Amy Winehouse at the MOBO Awards

Oh, God! How I love Amy Winehouse. I love her music, her crazy, her drugs, her tats, her eyeliner, her everything. Where was "Tears Dry on Their Own" when I was walking down the street crying that I "got so attached"? I could have cheekily chanted "no! no! no!" when people told me to take myself a nice, long sober vacation.

And best of all, she isn't lecturing me on the evils of globalization or greenhouse gases. She sings to me and makes the best use a 24 year-old can of fame and fortune. She snorts and drinks herself senseless all day and all night. Why do I applaud self-destruction? Because while I may not know brilliance, I do know that.

All this said, this clip from the MoBo awards is too much for even me to bear. It's not so much the mumbly singing and the sad, step-step, but the blank expression that glazes over her face that is downright deadly. It's one thing to be aggressive, coked-up crazy, it's another to seem so vulnerably fucked up that you need help recognizing people and everyday object. Oh soft and cloudy smack, second only to marriage as the last recourse of the truly pitiable.

I Probably Have Better Things to Do...

To: Webeditor@nypost.com, letters@nypost.com
Re: Proofreading. A Lost Art?

Dear Editors,

I read some portion of the online edition of the NYPost nearly every day, and enjoy your breathless coverage of media, politics, crime and entertainment. Your coverage of the Fire Fiend manhunt was especially noteworthy. Usually I am charmed by your neologisms (I believe Page Six coined the term "canoodling")and your casual editorializing. But an error in yesterday's article by Raakhee Mirchandani, "Food Cutie Hides Booty, " crossed a journalistic line that pained me enough to tap out this missive.

It is located mid-way through the article in reference to Ray's fall wardrobe changes. "This season, in an effort to stay comfortable - one of Ray’s main tenants of fashion - it’s more flared jeans, jersey tops and ballet flats." I believe Mirchandani meant to use the word tenet i.e., "a central principle or belief" according to the Compact Oxford English Dictionary of Current English, 3rd Edition, rather than tenant, "a person who rents land or property from a landlord" (ibid.)

This may seem rather innocuous, but in a sea of gossip blogs and entertainment television, the New York Post should endeavor to remain "the tabloid of record." This is accomplished by rigorous reporting and research and proofreading for grammar, spelling, punctuation and usage. While your style may be that of chatty adolescent, your adherence to strict journalistic standards must be akin to that of Ben Bradlee. The Post has a long and distinguished history as the foremost source of sensational news and features, but lazy errors will quickly sweep you into the dustbin of history alongside the likes of AJ Benza and Perez Hilton.

The Super Noble Brothers Movie Trailer

This film has been in the making for ages, and finally the saga the Super Noble Brothers has unfolded in feature-length form. it will be premiering at the Milwaukee Film Festival 9/28/07, 6pm at the Milwaukee Art Museum and encoring at the Oriental Theatre , Sunday 9/30, at 2:15.

Oh, sweaty, spirited late nights powered by the smooth 60's sounds of the Nobles. Good times.

All We Have is Now

So one of my dreams came true last night, I got to go to a Flaming Lips show. Last outdoor big-time concert? Hmmm. Dare I say the Black Crowes and Jimmy Page? Last time I had my mind completely blown by pure unadulterated groovy tunes and mass spectacle...at a show, never.
I've wanted to see them since Yoshimi... came out. Bubbles, bunny costumes and videos, oh my. I love me a happening and Wayne Coyne and Co. promised one. Would I ever be able to bear witness to this. Well, finally, it happened. And it was free!!

We got there pretty early and saw Cowboy Mouth, rockabilly fun, set the tone. I'm still getting used to seeing music without booze and drugs, so I always feel awkward at the beginning. My boyfriend's a bit reserved too, so I'm kind of on my own to get acclimated to rock out. But Cowboy Mouth's spastic frontman/drummer mandated screaming, jumping around, and general mayhem. Their songs were pretty great too.

After Cowboy Mouth, we decided to check out the refreshing Southern Comfort beverages that were being promoted. I have a bit of nostalgia about my SoCo and thought a sip of my tasty teenage beverage of choice would put me in the mood. Sadly, the promotion was for SC and Lime-ade, which was pretty fucking gross. So much for that.

Cold War Kids were up next, and that's when we took our positions for the night in front of the speakers. I hadn't heard them before, but the Mr. was a fan, so I felt reasonably assured of aural pleasure. Well, I love keyboards, plaintive yowls, smart lyrics and got it all. The bass was heavy and the guitars charging and lyrics sad and beautiful. At the end of the set, I was ready for the main event. "Bring it on, Flaming Lips. I am hot and ready."

We saw a little of the wizard behind the curtain as they were setting up the a/v stuff and bringing out the props. Then, then cannons exploded...

Oh, My Nose!

So I was looking for pictures of Angel Heart Mickey Rourke just now (after I was looking for pictures of Lisa Bonet, after I saw a gorgeous photo/postcard of her in the bookstore yesterday that I didn't buy).

So of course I stumbled upon some "plastic surgery disasters" websites. I earlier mentioned my distaste for people's Sisyphean quest to achieve some vague concept of physical perfection, with most of said distaste saved for doctors that are so very eager to "give someone their confidence" back through a labioplasty. But, man oh man, do I looking at how $$$ + vanity= gross disfigurement. I'm sad a little bit, I mean, how is it different whether some people carve up their bodies on the outside with silicone or on the inside with blow and booze? But still... science proves that you feel better with untrammeled endorphin production. Thinking that you've beat the ravages of time with Gore-tex lips is just plain wishful thinking and expensive and painful to boot!

So I found a site called bodyphilosophy that had all the usual suspects: Mickey, Melanie, Lara, Joan. But actually, it's a blog completely DEVOTED to the "enhancement" of one's appearance be it through surgery, pills, kooky exercises, what have you. I must say I learned some things...

Mentoplasty: chin augmentation
Brachioplasty: upper arm surgery...makes you less wiggly
blepharoplasty: eyelid lift...makes you look less chinky
ubilicoplasty: no more outie!

But right about the 5th page, they had a video on a pertinent topic Body Dysmorphic Syndrome

Now, I'm not saying that you have to have BDS just because you'd like to have a bit less tummy. But still, I found it weird.