Thanks, Roz. I know just where to stick it.

In honor of the Tuesday release of this...

...enjoy this. Atta girl.

Dined and whined.

It figures. Now the Katrina Victims® are complaining about having to live in 180-square-foot trailers paid for by FEMA. Um, try living in New York City in a 180-square-foot apartment whose monthly rent is probably more money than you'll ever make in your lives, and then try dealing with having to watch the SAME flatscreen LCD television from both your couch and bed. Jesus. Enough already.

A moment of nostalgia.

On Wednesday, music blog The Smudge posted mp3s of 10,000 Maniacs and Michael Stipe performing "To Sir, with Love" and "Candy Everybody Wants" at Bill Clinton's 1992 inauguration party. We found that post today. Please reflect with us on a time when our heroes were rock stars and so were our presidents. Thank you.

Crazed, yes, but also enterprising.

Obviously you know about Naomi Campbell getting nabbed yesterday for attacking her housekeeper with a cell phone. What you may not know is that, according to a pic on the front page of the NY Post (of course the front page!), those in Naomi's employ are apparently required to wear housecoats adorned with "Ms. Campbell." (The pic is at the bottom right-hand corner. No, we can't enlarge it. Obviously we don't have the time or energy for that.)

Um, we think this may be the most brilliant thing ever, which is why our interns are all now donning pink muumuus with "Mr. Fantastic-Looking" on them. If you see one, say hi! And don't think anything of the terrified look they may give you if you approach them—they came that way. Promise.


Guys, it's spring break! That means we're going to post something from Penthouse! Whoo-hoo! Beer bongs for everyone! And, and, and, it's vintage. Hot! In fact, it's from June 1983, one of the hottest times of one of the hottest years ever! So, sit back, relax, and enjoy this totally arousing, completely titillating, totally revealing...

Interview with L. Ron Hubbard's son. (Honestly. Read it. It's amazing. If you don't, we'll sic Rosie O'Donnell on you.)

Your video clip of the day.


In a move of unparalleled humanity, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie yesterday adopted Emmanuel Lewis.

My sister.

How do you know that we spent last evening at a private taping of Rosie O'Donnell's new sketch comedy show for fledgling gay network, Logo? Because we're in a photo snapped by Rosie on her camera phone. Do you know what this means? No, it doesn't mean that we enjoy going to tapings of shows because, honestly, there's nothing worse in the whole wide world. What it means is that, in a stunning example of the universe folding in on itself, we are now personally connected to...




So, we were, once again, correct about who'd be voted off "American Idol," and, yes, we are patting ourselves on the back. However, we did fail to predict that she would be eliminated by ninja.


Holy ship.

And now, a photograph of the new Titanic museum in Branson, MO...

Yes, what you see is correct. You actually enter the museum thr...oh, hell...we'll let them tell you...

Nicely done, folks. We eagerly await the 9/11 Experience.

Your video clip of the day.

You're invading MySpace.

Because we love bringing you all sorts of awful, please enjoy what may be the worst MySpace profile evah. It actually caused our browser to simultaneously give us the finger and kick us in the crotch.

Take a seat.

We posted this link among others recently for a few moments, but it really deserves its own post. It's to a site called SeatGuru, a guide to the best and worst seats on any airplane on most major airlines. Yes, that means the next time you buy coach seats (because obviously you can't afford business- or first-class seats), you can make an utterly miserable experience a bit more tolerable by not accidentally ending up next to the lavatory. Unless you're into that.

Anyway, we look forward to using this site often, thought we'd really love it if it could be upgraded to tell us who specifically is sitting in what seat on a certain flight, so we're not stuck next to Katie Couric's kids or a fat man with two bags of Chili's-To-Go. Right?

You can't have your Locke if you don't eat your Hurley.

Here's the wall from last night's episode of "Lost" de-blacklit. Unfortunately, there are no unicorns or wizards.

Here's Entertainment Weekly's take on it, to be in this Friday's issue...


Imagine our delight as we picked up a New York Press this morning to find that it's the annual "50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers" issue, perhaps our favorite yearly issue of any free paper. Imagine our delight to find Gawker, a once-necessary, now toothless Web site at #32. Imagine our disappointment to read the last line of the capsule: "It may be obnoxious, but it's also indispensible."


It's true. We're afraid this year's 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers issue is not nearly as obnoxious or indispensible as issues of years past. Amanda Lepore? More like Amanda Le-snore. Michael Bloomberg? So 2003. James Frey? Give the guy a break already—every memoir is fiction.

Anyway, to make up for the New York Press's shortcomings, here are our...

5 Most Loathsome New Yorkers!

1.) The guy who lives upstairs
2.) The homeless veteran who called us a "puss" this morning
3.) Hillary Clinton
4.) The friend who just moves here eight years after you did and gets a "fantastic deal on this cute one-bedroom!"
...and, as #36 in the New York Press is "the inconsiderate moron who blasts his iPod into my ear every morning on the L train" (oooh—such harsh words!), we'll one-up the paper and declare our 5.) the New York Press writer who namechecks the L train.



Hang in there, Fairfield.

Can we keep him?

We just LOL-ed maybe the most we've ever LOL-ed. That's a lot of LOL-ing.

Sorry to interrupt.

If anyone tries this, let us know what happens, K? We'd do it ourselves, but the interns provide quite enough interruptions, thank you ver

Not a good day for Houstons.

Here are the 10 most polluted cities in America (which we assume is more exciting than saying "the three most polluted areas in America").

I wanna smoke with somebody.

Um. We need the bathroom pic. Stat.

The great Ace coaster.

In case you do continue to watch "American Idol," why not put your almost all-alcohol drink on the first NB downloadable item ever: the great Ace coaster? Just print this post and grab some scissors! And try to cut around the circle and not through it, tempting as it may be.


Tyr as we may.



Why we now have to watch "America's Next Top Model" tonight. Damn you, Tyra. We were trying to limit our addictions to alcohol and bible sudoku. Thanks a lot.

Spring cleaning.

We have good news and good news.

The good news? After seven seconds of careful consideration, we decided not to watch "American Idol" last night.

The good news? Having not watched, we still know this is going home...


Shut up, monkey.

Folks (Lori and Jen), we're not feeling it presently. Nous sommes desolés. Please bear with us. Thanx.


Out of the bag.

We told you it would be nice and easy. And don't think we didn't try to make it nice and rough. It's just that looking at pictures of extraterrestrials Tom and Katie and drugly Marc Antony and Sally-Kirkland-becoming Sharon Stone made us especially uncomfortable today. We just couldn't do it.

Alas, you'll have to make do with Ms. Mia, who's about to have a "purr"-thday (why, it says so in the latest "mews"!). Please notice that the average amount of comments for each of Ms. Mia's posts is approximately seven, and the average amount of comments for each post here is approximately zero.

Bravo, us. Bra-vo.

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My 'lanta.

Regarding Atlanta, let's just say we lived an entire life in 10 days. As scared as we are of the South, we hold a special fondness for Atlanta. It's a city filled with nice people who are forced to drive on roads 18 lanes too narrow to accommodate the traffic.

There's the wonderful new Renzo Piano-designed addition to the High Museum of Art...

In the Ansley Park area of town, we found some swings, each with a plaque dedicated to the memory of a loved one...

Well, mostly...

There's also Piedmont Park, the kind-of-wonderful/kind-of-horrifying square of green in the middle of Midtown. It has a Holocaust, sorry, marathon statue sponsored by Asics and Power Bar.

There's also a homeless man living in one of the stalls of the public restroom near the children's playground. He was camera shy, but he says hello. He also takes offense to being called homeless, so, you know, we apologize.

We did get a pic of this man, having a nap in the sun.

Atlanta also hosts this sign at a Mexican restaurant...

...My Bling Bling Barbies at Target...

...and Veterans for Peace protests every Friday afternoon in Midtown.

The protests are almost as important as Bling Bling Barbies but not even close to the sign. Nothing is.

It is true that Atlanta also is home to the world's largest aquarium. 1.) Any attraction can be the "world's largest" if you place a giant open space in the middle. We found the Georgia Aquarium to be more like the world's largest food court. 2.) Alas, never, EVER go there. If you've ever snorkled, you've seen most of what the place has to offer. Well, except for the people...

Atlanta also features Swinging Richards, home to other large things. We went there, but we have no photos. You wouldn't want to see them, anyway. Trust.

We also almost had an opportunity to get up close to the smallpox. Seriously. We'll continue to work on that for you.

As for the nice people we mentioned, yes, we have pics of some of them, but, no, we don't post pics of others on the Interwebs. It's only fair. But we can tell you this...they're waaaaaaaaay hot. Way. Hot.

You know, it's almost as if this plaque (what's with all the plaques?) sums up our feelings exactly...

We'll see you in a month, gentle lady. Now, it's time for a refreshment break...

Big wheel keep on turning.


After being delayed for eight hours (yes, eight hours) at romantic Hartsfield International Airport yesterday, we have returned. Unfortunately, we have only slept about eight hours in the past few days, so we're going to make like Tina at the beginning of "Proud Mary" and take it nice and easy. At some point we'll get nice and rough, but, for now, we're going to work on adding photos to the Atlanta recap we wrote yesterday in between texting everyone ever and marveling at cargo sweatpants.


The patient is out.


Well, there's good news and bad news. Which do you want first? The bad news? Of course.

The bad news is that all possible guest editors for this site are now gainfully employed and are not available for such minute-consuming guest-editing work.

The good news is that, because of this, you will be absolutely NB-free until Monday, March 27.

It's true. Your "editor" is leaving NYC for 10 days to venture to the ATL for some piano-playin' fun, and the interns went and booked themselves a suite at the Atlantic City Super 8. Please have a good 10 days, and don't do anything dumb. And if you are in the ATL area and want to give a shout out or buy a wayward gay a sweet tea, here's the show information. Come out and see us, y'heah?

Until then, then, the patient is out.

it gets betr.

OK. Try not to laugh some more.

Found communiqué.

Dear Mary-Kate and Ash,

Hey. I'm 15 months old, which is prob what you guys were when you started acting on "Full House." You both seemed to have it so together, especially since you shared the spotlight. Well, not shared, but shared in the sense that you were both Michelle. You know what I mean, right? Cool. Anyway, I'm kind of having a hard time right now. I mean, how were you treated at 15 months? Was your cast nice to you? Did the crew help you out when you needed it? How was craft services? Did they provide formula? Because the thing is, right now I feel like the people in charge here are kind of being irresponsible with me. I mean it's totally cool to be able to be viewed by pretty much the whole world, but have you two seen what I'm being used for? It's totally uncool. Look at today: I was saddled with some lame joke about Jay Leno and yet more pointless rambling about that "American Idol" show. It's, like, GETTING SO OLD. And, truth be told, the person in charge ("guy" would be too specific) I hate to say is a little...well...racist. And ageist. And sizeist. And, seriously, he's only, like, 5'3". Honestly. Anyway, MK and Ash, I'm just wondering if you have any advice for me. Is there a way to improve my situation? At so young an age, I feel like I can't do much else but be a puppet for some crazy opportunist's desires. Oh, and he is crazy. I mean, if he ever found out I sent this, he'd probably post it with some "funny" picture of a kitty or monkey beneath it (he can't even really figure out how to position text around a picture) and some lame "REBUTTAL" beneath that. Ugh. It's just what I'd expect from an adult with no power over anyone or anything real. If you can help me, help me. I'm dying a much-too-often-labored death over here.

One Weally Worried Web site

We are not 5'3". How dare you. We are easily 5'4".

Contractually obliged to be unwavering.

Life & Style, we truly admire you for sticking to your gossip guns re: the Tom and Katie split. You were the ones that broke the not-true story weeks ago, and you refuse to be bullied into admitting you were wrong, which you were. Bravo, L & S, for marching steadfastly to your own off-rhythm drummer. And with such big, yellow font. Bravo.

Your video clip of the day.

Today it's Bing Crosby, Gwen Verdon, Bobbie Gentry, Englebert Humperdinck and Dick Shawn performing a Beatles medley on "Hollywood Palace." If you can, try to stick it out until the "Life Goes On" finale. It's a doozy.

One at a time.

Looks like the rest of us will have to wait.

Down the Hatcher.

Teri, you can do as much charity work for the gays as you deem necessary, but we'll never, ever, ever like you.