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Sun, 12 May 2013 17:26:22 -0400

The Youngest Girl Alive: Kim Kardashian at the Met Gala

Fri, 10 May 2013 16:07:49 -0400

The Youngest Girl Alive: Kim Kardashian at the Met Gala:

Kim Kardashian at the Met Gala
A Short Story by Cait Raft

Kim Kardashian sat on a toilet in the 2nd story bathroom of the Metropolitan Museum of Art and cried. She liked to take photos of herself crying. There was something about the way her tears rolled down her face. ”People think I’m ugly…

a short story about adam levine part 6

Fri, 10 May 2013 12:02:00 -0400

Adam Levine lay in bed at 2:30 AM as his roommate, Gene, screamed in the living room. Gene had broken a glass and couldn’t find the broom. Adam and Gene didn’t have a broom. Gene didn’t know this because Gene was drunk. Adam could get up and help him but Adam could also do a lot of things. He rolled over and hugged his pillow tight to his chest. Adam had smoked a joint and watched a few episodes of Saturday Night Live earlier but he stopped a few hours ago feeling that he really ought to go to sleep. The problem was Adam couldn’t sleep. It had been a long time since Adam had slept without the aid of booze and Xanax. He was trying to get into better habits. So, tonight Adam lay awake regretting smoking weed, wondering why he smoked weed in the first place, because all it did was make him uncomfortable in his own skin.

Adam often wondered why the socially acceptable form of courtship was going to an overpriced bar and having a few drinks with a stranger as they assessed if they wanted to bang each other or not. Sometimes a girl would say something Adam didn’t like such as “Why would you want to drink a 40 on your porch?” or “I love the website College Humor!” and Adam would immediately dismiss them. He told himself that not everyone could be like him but deep down he wondered: why couldn’t they?

Adam wished he could get to know a girl without the pressure of sex and intimacy. Adam couldn’t face rejection in any form. Adam got upset when girls he didn’t even like in the first place rejected him. It sent him in a tailspin of calling them at 5 AM until they broke under his overwhelming fame. Adam genuinely felt that everyone ought to like him and if they didn’t he would make them like him. This was how he woke up in bed next to some model named Irina last night with a pounding headache and a profound sense of remorse.

Adam had read in a fucking gossip magazine of all places that Miranda Lambert had told Blake that he was a “bad influence” and that Usher was a “great role model.” He knew it was probably a lie but Miranda was such a horrible bitch that it might be true. Adam liked to think he had a good head on his shoulders. So what if he and Blake sometimes snorted ADHD medication before the battle round episodes of The Voice? Who didn’t? He had to keep on his toes and he had a disease, okay? He and Blake were prescribed to ADHD medication. So what if he wasn’t technically supposed to snort it. You only live once. Miranda was just a judgmental whore. He hated having dinner with her because after his second glass of wine she would go “Oh! Another? Really? Don’t you have to drive home, Adam?” Adam was a fucking millionaire. He’d call a car if he had too much to drink. Jesus fucking Christ. If there was something Adam couldn’t stand it was when people were passive aggressive. Usher a great role model? Usher had fucked every single intern on the show and insisted he shouldn’t have to wear a condom because it felt like “slapping a Big Mac wrapper on his dick.”

Gene was calling Adam’s name now. He had just been in the bathroom vomiting up the nice French meal Adam had treated them to earlier. Adam lay motionless in his bed feigning the deepest sleep he could muster. If he got out of bed he knew he would never go back to sleep and Adam detested the thoughts he had after 2 AM. After he was sure Gene was passed out on the bathroom floor he opened his laptop and navigated to the “Adam Levine is so hot” facebook page and flipped through various pictures of himself shirtless. At least somebody loved him unconditionally.

This is what happens when it hits 5:30 PM on weekdays.

Thu, 09 May 2013 18:03:18 -0400

This is what happens when it hits 5:30 PM on weekdays.

My first crush was Jeremy Irons in Die Hard 3. I remember...

Sun, 05 May 2013 18:29:00 -0400

My first crush was Jeremy Irons in Die Hard 3. I remember watching it over and over again as a 10 - 12 year-old on a tiny TV on my way to Arkansas. It was only years later I found out he’s definitely supposed to be some Nazi villain in Die Hard 3.

a short story about adam levine part 5

Wed, 01 May 2013 13:05:00 -0400

Adam Levine liked watching teen cam girls because he liked the little teen objects in their bedrooms. He liked the neon bras hanging over the backs of chairs and pictures of Jake Gyllenhaal cut out of magazines taped on their bureau. He liked the half-eaten burritos sitting abandoned on the desk next to their shitty laptops. He liked watching a life in motion more than he liked watching pixelated girls twerk poorly to obscure Ace Hood songs.

It had been a long day. Adam went to work, smoked weed and said things on TV that made absolutely no sense but nobody called him out on it so it didn’t really matter. He sometimes played a game with himself where he would purposely spout non-sequiters to see how long it would take for Carson Daly to stop him.

Adam sat up in bed. He had been watching a British TV drama about people who couldn’t be together because of tragic, heart-breaking reasons. He hadn’t had sex in a month. He could feel the blood churning beneath his paper-thin skin. He wanted to sleep beside someone at night. He fantasized about perfect women meeting his parents and having to answer a slew of Spanish Inquisition questions from his mom. He also fantasized about having sex with one of the interns at NBC. He would push her up against the wall of the private unisex bathroom and shove his hand up her shirt. He wanted to fuck someone forbidden. He hugged his pillow to his body. He wanted to do something. He snap-chatted a picture of his balls to CeeLo Green to see if that would help cheer him up. It didn’t.

He took a swig of nyquill and a swig of tussin. He had a cough that wouldn’t quit so he rationalized abusing over the counter drugs as self-medication. Plus, he had ran out of Promethezine and was too lazy to call Josue and get more. It was easy to send his bitchy assistant to Duane Reade. She gave him a Look when he did drugs. He would fuck her too if she wasn’t such a judgmental cunt. She made him want to take a shower. He closed his Mac Book Pro and laid down on his side. He enjoyed the peaceful lapse of time between being sober and the horrifying half-conscious dreams the nyquill wouldn’t let him wake up from. He deserved to be unhappy.

“I really need to have sex right now,” Adam Levine...

Thu, 25 Apr 2013 17:40:00 -0400

“I really need to have sex right now,” Adam Levine said as he watched Maria, his elderly Venezuelan maid, scrub the dried vomit off his fireplace. “It’s been too long.” Adam put out his cigarette and sat for a long time, thinking about nothing.

a short story about adam levine part 4

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 14:51:00 -0400

Adam Levine was lying down on a California King in Cabo San Lucas. He was sipping Patron out of the bottle and watching reruns of The Voice. Caroline Glaser was singing and Adam didn’t turn his chair around.

“You fucking idiot,” he said aloud, “Look at those blowjob lips!” Adam knocked over a plate of egg rolls as he swung out of bed. He was surrounded by half-eaten plates of room service. He thought he couldn’t decide on what to eat but after some under-cooked Chicken Quesadillas he decided that it wasn’t his indecision that made him re-order plates and plates of food, it was just that this food fucking sucked. He had called the fifteen year-old concierge and told her that multiple times. He had screamed and screamed at her until she wept but that was hours ago and it was just a vague memory now.

Adam stepped out onto the balcony of his bungalow and watched the many lights of boats dotting the horizon. They must be fishing boats making their morning runs. He remembered what Blake and Shakira had said when he told them he was going to Cabo this weekend. Blake scoffed and asked “Why are you always going out of town, Adam?” Adam wanted to tell Blake to go fuck himself. He went out of town because he was rich and famous and he could do whatever he wanted. He never said that though. He just laughed and said it was for his fragrance or he was taking a special lady out. Adam had no special lady and he could give a shit about his goddamn fragrance Women wanted to fuck him but he wasn’t interested anymore. He remembered Jane and the way they’d smoke weed in his shitty apartment in Echo Park and watch episodes of Gilmore Girls. She’d laugh until she cried and he would put his arm around her and kiss her hair. He loved the way her shoulders shook when she laughed. He couldn’t think about that now though. Jane was gone and Adam was famous. Now his weekends consisted of doing cocaine in club bathrooms with vacant looking supermodels. It had its perks but he missed feeling warm inside.

Adam didn’t want to tell Blake that he went on vacation all the time because he was so profoundly lonely. Adam felt like he didn’t particularly like anyone in LA. He liked strangers. He liked shooting the shit with young people who worked for NGOs in dour hotel bars. He hated that Blake teased him though. It made Adam feel like he didn’t have a home. Adam sometimes worried he liked traveling so much because he couldn’t commit to one person, one home, one job. Adam supposed he technically had two homes. One in Beverly Hills and one in Hollywood Hills. Why did he have two homes in the same fucking city? He wanted to find somewhere real: a place where he felt comfortable, but Adam was afraid that place didn’t exist. Adam hit a bowl of weed laced with the tiniest hint of PCP. He had to remind himself that it was the drugs that made him rethink his life and thats not what he really thought when was sober. He stared at the boats receding in the gloomy pre-dawn mist. He hoped that was true at least.

red-band: Russian leader, Vladimir Putin, was accosted by...

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 12:33:36 -0400

red-band:

Russian leader, Vladimir Putin, was accosted by topless protestors in Germany and made an EXCELLENT face because Putin doesn’t give a fuck. Here’s the equally hilarious thing he had to say on the matter:

“Regarding this performance, I liked it,” grinned Putin at a joint news conference with German Chancellor Angela Merkel, adding that it had helped to promote the trade fair though he suggested that the security men could have been “gentler”.

“I did not catch what they were shouting, I did not even see if they were blondes, brunettes or chestnut-haired … I don’t see anything terrible in (the protest), though I think … it is better to be dressed if one wants to discuss political matters.”

LiKE A BOSS. Putin: the man, the myth, the legend. Watch a video of the entire topless extravaganza here.

A Short Story About Adam Levine Part 3

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 15:52:00 -0400

Adam Levine sat in the greenroom of The Voice hours after the last interns had gone home. He changed white t-shirts until he felt comfortable. Sometimes, late at night he would stumble out of bed. Leaving Amanda or Anne or Behati or whoever and step into his large, granite shower. He’d turn the heat up until it hurt to stand there and stare down at his dick. He’d pull it this way and that. Would it look any different if he was sick? Adam’s therapist told him that he didn’t really have an STD, that it was just society telling him he should have one because Adam slept with a lot of models. What Adam didn’t tell his therapist, though, was just how many models he slept with. He slept with more than a lot of models. He had lost count of the women (and sometimes men) he slept with years ago.

From the beginning of The Voice alone it had to be over 5,000. The entire concept of The Voice gave Adam the opportunity to gather several desperate, fame-hungry women together and “coach” them. Oh, Adam “coached” them alright. He “coached” on how to suck his dick. Don’t worry, Adam already hated himself.

He stayed up and read the Reddit subthread where people posted pictures of ingrown hairs and asked if it was herpes. Adam had a skin-tag on one of his balls. Was it actually herpes? The skin-tag didn’t hurt or swell but some women mentioned it’s existence. Once they did he threw them out of his mansion at 5 AM without cab money or their cell phones. Adam hated that his own body was a mystery to him. He could be walking around with HIV all day and not even know it. The feeling he might have an incurable disease would make Adam curl into a ball and cry on the white tile surrounding his indoor hot tub. Afterwards, he would watch Oscar acceptance speeches to make himself feel better. Three 6 Mafia’s cheered him up. If things got really awful— he’d watch reruns of the first season of The Voice. Rebecca Loebe did this great thing with her tongue. Adam was a huge fan.

Sometimes he felt a tight, balled-up fist where his heart should be. He has come to recognize that feeling was crippling loneliness. What did it matter if America loved him if he didn’t love himself? These are the things he thought lying in the green room of The Voice late at night. He took four sleeping pills and rolled over. Whatever.

Best. Party. Ever.

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 11:16:45 -0400

Best. Party. Ever.

DMX riding a horse.

Fri, 22 Mar 2013 16:00:58 -0400

DMX riding a horse.

A Short Story About Taylor Swift's Intern Who Threw Away All Her Fan Mail

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 11:49:00 -0400

Taylor Swift’s intern, Josh, walked out of the recording studio. He guessed he was Taylor Swift’s intern. He had never met her himself. He was just a student at Vanderbilt. He had grown up in Houston. He had nice parents. They had a house with a lawn and a dog named Happy. If Taylor Swift knew his name he was shocked. His boss had kept him two hours late (typical) to organize invoices nobody would read in descending alphabetical order. Earlier that day, his coworker with eczema had emailed their boss to say that Josh was ten to fifteen minutes late everyday. Josh may be ten to fifteen minutes late everyday but he was still at the office ten to fifteen minutes earlier than everyone else. Josh wished his coworker would work out his eczema related insecurities in some other way that didn’t include Josh.

Josh drove through Nashville to the public school he worked at tutoring under-privileged kids. He looked at the pile of fan letters in the passenger seat. They were covered in magic marker and glitter. He listened to Beach House and sighed. He had logged every address in a spreadsheet today and he would have to mail hundreds of letters tomorrow about how much Taylor loved her fans. Sometimes this job made him want to kill himself. He just had to remind himself that it would lead to a better job one day. God, he fucking hoped so— he didn’t have it in him to really kill himself.

Josh got to the school and turned off the ignition. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Josh’s boss wanted Josh to open and read every single letter before recycling them in different trash cans around Nashville. Josh didn’t get paid, by the way. Josh’s girlfriend broke up with him a month ago and last night she had included him in a group text about summer plans. He could not be friends with his ex-girlfriend. She knew that. He didn’t want to know her summer plans. That didn’t change that he had to watch that dickhead Steve talk about his bullshit trip to India to help out bullshit under-privileged kids. Couldn’t he help out under-privileged kids at home in America? Like Josh did everyday? God, Steve was a dickhead. Josh looked at the letters again. Taylor wouldn’t read them anyway. The tweens who sent them were misguided to think that she would. Also, have they not heard of the internet? What a waste of resources. What a waste of Josh’s time. Josh narrowed his eyes.

He gathered the letters in his arms and slammed the car door with his foot. Fuck it. Fuck his boss. Fuck his coworker with eczema. Fuck Beach House! He didn’t like that band anyway! Fuck his ex-girlfriend. Fuck Steve. Fuck Taylor Swift. Fuck her fans. Josh threw the letters in the dumpster. He walked inside to tutor under-privileged kids. Like a boss.

Dreams

Tue, 12 Mar 2013 10:32:48 -0400

I had a dream I met Tom Cruise on a pirate ship and I asked Taylor Swift who was sitting on the deck drinking a coffee and reading magazines about herself to take a picture of us but every picture she took was blurry so I said “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, TAYLOR, WHAT ABOUT MY FACEBOOK?” She shook her head because she didn’t really care. Then I drove a car into a deep lake and swam up to find myself in Mexico with Wesley Snipes and we had to fight big robotic spiders and afterwards I saw the Hobbit with my mom which was sort of boring. After all that I went on a quest through Skyrim to some mountain and I asked how long it would take and Academy Award Winner Helen Hunt said “Six months” and I said “Damn, ain’t nobody got time for that.” This was between six and seven this morning?

Caitlin and I on what’s wrong with Justin Bieber.

Fri, 08 Mar 2013 15:40:42 -0500

Caitlin and I on what’s wrong with Justin Bieber.

bbook: Check Out Stanley Kubrick’s Brainstorming Titles for...

Fri, 08 Mar 2013 12:26:07 -0500

bbook:

Check Out Stanley Kubrick’s Brainstorming Titles for ‘Dr. Strangelove’

A Short Story About Adam Levine Pt. 2

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 00:13:00 -0500

Adam Levine sat with his hand on Amanda’s leg but he didn’t know why. He was too drunk to make out what her friends were saying but he could tell it was boring. It occurred to him that after the club he was expected to take Amanda home and make love to her. He took another sip of his scotch and soda. When Adam had sex with women he got this funny out-of-body experience where he heard dozens of voices talking at once so he could never make out what they were saying. He liked women. He imagined settling down with a woman one day. They’d tape their favorite television episodes and watch reruns of NCIS on the weekends. They would take long walks. She would fuck around on the internet while he wrote poetry. They wouldn’t have to talk to each other because they knew what the other was thinking without asking. He and this beautiful, perfect woman would be in love. He wasn’t gay. He knew that. Adam loved women. He loved breasts and asses. Especially asses. What Adam didn’t understand was why he had to have sex with women. Intercourse felt, well, icky. He had never gotten what the big deal was. He’d had sex with a LOT of women but he never felt very comfortable with the whole fluid-filled experience. He preferred jerking off by himself in a hot shower. It was private and it was his. Just his.

Amanda said something but he wasn’t listening. He would give anything in the world to never have to mention his fucking fragrance line ever again. Why wasn’t it okay to enjoy making millions of dollars for creating bullshit products nobody wanted? Wasn’t the American dream accumulating as many mansions as possible? Adam got up. Amanda asked him if he felt okay. He told her he had to take a shit. She laughed and glanced at her friends nervously. He walked towards the bathroom but changed his mind and exited out the fire door. The alarm went off. He kept walking. He walked right onto Sunset and booked himself a hotel room because why not? He’d order a bottle of scotch and some premo blow. He’d sit on the balcony with his feet on the railing, chain-smoke and watch the sun rise. That sounded a lot better than having sex with fucking Amanda.

A short, short story based on Jay-Z: “Disillusionment,...

Mon, 04 Mar 2013 17:07:12 -0500

A short, short story based on Jay-Z: “Disillusionment, fame, detachment, Patron, lost in the wind.”

Can someone tell me if this guy is being serious or not?

Wed, 27 Feb 2013 10:17:46 -0500

Can someone tell me if this guy is being serious or not?

red-band: Harmony Korine looks painfully awkward in all of the...

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 16:06:57 -0500

red-band:

Harmony Korine looks painfully awkward in all of the Spring Breakers production stills. He looks a little less awkward telling a Disney Princess how to rob a convenience store.