Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Monday, February 16, 2009

Thursday, February 12, 2009


The latest issue of Marie Claire features a HJNTIY-themed interview with two of the film's leading actresses, Ginnifer Goodwin and Jennifer Aniston, and one of the film's barely-on-screen-but-pegged-as-leading
-actress, Drew Barrymore.

The interviewer asks the three ladies what helps them get through breakups.

First Drew lies about eating carbs. I know this because she answers, "Macaroni and cheese. Kraft. Deluxe. The kind with the cheese you squeeze out of the bag that takes at least a month to pass through your body." As any student of carbohydrates knows, Kraft Mac n'Cheese comes with the powder-based cheese. Only Velveeta brand comes with tubular liquid cheesestuff. Celebpretties will deign to know the essence of KFC-induced diarrhea if it makes them seem relatable. Tsk Tsk poseur.

Jennifer Aniston hilariously responds to Drew's comment: "I don't eat a lot. (ed. note: DUH) I go straight to my girlfriends."

Thus a discussion of the importance of girlfriends ensues, which is odd, because HJNTIY hates your girlfriends. And your Mom. It lays its case against them in the opening montage.

First a little girl gets punched and told she smells like shit by a boy on the playground. She runs weeping to her mother, who tells her: "Don't cry. When little boys do that it means they like you." Next four women comfort a crying friend at a bar, cooing, "He just couldn't handle how amazing you are." All while the narrative voice is informing us, "You see, you've been brainwashed all your life into believing that when a guy doesn't call it means he likes you..." OMG, Moms are to You as Scientology is to Tom Cruise! Cut the umbilical cord! Punch ur friends! Frak you, Mom!

A mother looks on encouragingly as her daughter throws herself all over a carrot that is so clearly Not. Into. Her.

But it's hard to stay mad at your girlfriends for long, because they're dogs. Or some kind of cute, little naive animal. Ginnifer Goodwin laps up Justin Long's advice about men and dating (the HJNTIY philosophy) like a dutiful canine companion, looking up at him with sorrowful puppy eyes that seem willing do all kinds of rolling over for just one link of meat. The women are in the film to learn, to be taught, to be trained. Infantilizing, sure. But, on the other hand, Ginnifer's haircut was crazy ADORBS, and who doesn't like a good dog-com?


Besides, taking He's Just Not That Into You seriously is like taking the babysitter seriously. The movie breaks every rule that it makes. After enduring two hours of Justin Long screaming at Ginnifer: "He Ain't Into You!", something magically snaps and the movie morphs into He Just Doesn't Know HOW Into You He Is, in which the males are not disinterested, they're just in self-denial about their own feelings because their luv for you is too strong to consciously bear.

Consciously bears in luv!

There are some other plots going on. Drew Barrymore gets thrown in as the token Tech 3.0 dater who communicates through pretty mainstream mediums like e-mail, Blackberry, text message, and MySpace, but talks about them as if they were cutting edge technology and the rest of the world is full of lame luddites stuck on landlines. Which is actually true of the film's other characters. The movie is strangely anachronistic, an oddity they tried to reconcile by setting it in Baltimore, where people who haven't seen The Wire can believe Internet is not mainstream yet.

Also, Drew Barrymore has all gay friends which showcases how technologically advanced she is.

ScarJo is the Quirky Aggressive-esque character. She plays a one-dimensional slut with the soul of a vacuum cleaner who jumps naked into community pools and says crazy things to married men like, "You have an ass I'd like to dry hump." Her boobs are the elephant in the room that everyone's thinking about grabbing.

The moral of the ScarJo plot is that if you're a wanton woman you'll end up a lonely lounge singer on qualudes. And that she needs a new agent. She didn't even manage to get one Tom Waits cover into the soundtrack.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Friday, February 6, 2009

Usher's "Trading Places"; Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy"

What's up with Usher wanting to be a chick and Beyonce wanting to be a dood, and then both of them having moronic conceptions about what it means to be the opposite sex? Someone please get them together so they can have a retarded androgynous baby who will save the world from the perils of gender.

But, uh, I still think the Usher song/video is absolutely awesome and hilarious.

1.) He imitates a female orgasm at the end.
2.) Folgers coffee gets brand recognition.
3.)"You order Chinese food right before you do me."

Monday, February 2, 2009

Manifestations In Laziness: REPOST

Dear R.,
Facebook informed me that your birthday is this week. We haven't spoken since the mishap with your planted pet, but I do hope you're super. I'm reposting this June blog entry about you. I could position the repost as a birthday gift, but that would make me a huge betch.


If, for some reason, you've been living in the seams of my grandmother's house dress for the last five years, I have something to teach you: the world wide web is full of friends. You don't even have to know someone in reality to be friends with them on the Internet! The web is also full of pervs. Sometimes someone can be both a friend and a pervert.

Have you facebooked Paul Reubens yet?.... Why the hell not?

I'm in the habit of accepting any Facebook friend request I receive. As an old-timer, I've lived through the Great Friend Drive of 2004 (aka the founding of Facebook.com). I've experienced the mad rush to accumulate a decent number of online social network pals, the kind of desperation that leads one to friend request that weird Communist girl who brought her parents along to a naked party in college and had no qualms about her dad ogling fellow students' nubile bodies , or the ex-boyfriend who told you he preferred smaller boobs. I feel your pain, newbies.

As a direct result of my empathetic nature, I have many new friends from the Philippines, Mexico, and India.

R., my most recent international friend, uses a picture of the late Bollywood hunk Raj Kapoor for his profile picture.

This profile picture conveys the following messages to your loyal Facebook readers/friends: 1.) I can sing and dance 2.) I died in 1988 and 3.) Thomas Friedman's The Lexus and The Olive Tree is my fav book ever.

When R. friend requested me on June 4th, he included a slight neg in his accompanying message.

June 4th, 2008 7:58am

Hello Lauren

You look sexy and nice. Would you like to be friends? Your the girl on right side?


At the time, this was my Facebook picture:

The girl on the right is my sister. I responded "Yes" anyhow. This is what the Internet is for: pretend.

Over the next few weeks, R. proceeded to inundate my notification box with a variety of sexual quiz invitations.

Quiz: What kind of lover are you?

Quiz: What's your favorite position?

Quiz: Are you sexually compatible with your partner?

I was beginning to regret friending R. He posted "Hello sexxy" on my wall. I deleted it immediately.

But then I noticed R.'s status messages. Rather than cliched sexual come-ons, his status messages were filled with inspiring, motivational words. It was like absorbing the wisdom of a Des'ree song without having to endure the moans of light rock saxophone:

R. is: you've got to be wise in life.

R. is: believing in true love.

R. is: love your friends. Friends 4life!

But recently R. started down a dark public announcement path:

R. is: feeeling lonely.

R. is: not understanding.

R. is: scared.

R. is feeeling so lonely.

The last reiteration of R.'s loneliness was posted late Sunday night. I was alone myself, with both my housemates out of town and no one to intercept my idle chatter. An hour before, around midnight, I had realized I was sitting on the living room floor in just my oversized "MATH MASTERS" t-shirt, clipping my toenails while intoning "Wall-EEEEEEE" to myself. That realization will make anyone reach out for late night contact.

I messaged R.

June 29, 2008 12:45am
Hey R.

I've been noticing your Facebook status messages are kind of sad lately. Hope everything is okay!


The response:

June 30, 2008 5:17am

My chia pet died! Stay good, sexy.

And that's what friends are for.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Typo on CNN News Ticker

Obama to Muslims: "Americans are not your enemas."