chris and eileen's cape party was a blast: i played my first game of beer die. i learned the meaning of "boot" (to blow chunks). i finally got to hang out at the legendary 'comber. i went in the ocean (okay, only up to my waist, but still). i sang every lyric to every song of appetite for destruction, which was played at least three times over the course of the weekend (that album is so solid). i stared at a dizzying array of nighttime stars while a bonfire raged (um, sort of) at 1 a.m. i drank a true hop skip and go naked (the frozen version of the beer punch often featured at my own parties) and ate a lot of potato salad. and i laid around a lot. good times.

liz phair wrote a weird letter to the new york times in response to the bad review they gave her. and because i can't get enough of this subject, here's a GQ interview from the july issue, in which the writer (accurately) describes her new album like so:

But there are generic rock-guitar riffs sutured onto songs, like rock-guitar riffs are sutured onto the opening music on Monday Night Football. In the song "Why Can't I?", there's this part where she sings the line "I hardly know you," and then there's this little computerized Liz voice that chimes in, "...hardly know you... hardly know you." It sounds like something you'd hear on Nickelodeon. The lyrics lack the honesty and the sting we expect from Liz Phair.

thoughts on sonic youth last night: shoulda been louder. damn that kim gordon has one jowlly neck. but she can still rock the mini. thoughts on wilco: damn that jeff tweedy is hot. they didn't play enough (hell, any) old-school singalong songs. but they still rocked my world.

i must go lay out several water bowls for my furry kitty so she doesn't die in the next two days. have a good weekend.

i forgot to mention that it was john's birthday a couple of days ago. happy birthday johnboy! i also totally missed betsy's a few days before that. i would put up a picture of her, too, as is the tradition with birthday girls and boys, but you already got a picture of her undies. what more do you need?

for those of you who watch my favorite current reality show, america's next top model, and i know you're out there, don't try to deny it, travelers diagram has revealed that elyse's (pretty dorky) boyfriend is in the shins. elyse is my favorite, for the record, though the chicago girl with the ridiculously flat, monotone voice is a close second. i like how those two get all raunchy and the christian girls don't know what to do.

i wrote about one of my favorite recent albums, the thermals' "more parts per million," over at 75 or less.

last week i went pottery painting with seven other girls at our name is mud. i have to say, it made me very happy. i was one of the last ones to finish, carefully painting on my three coats of swirly stripes. thursday and friday are adult nights and you get free wine; certain dates are "paint till you faint," where you pay only $10 in painting time no matter how long you stay. the guys who worked there were kind of cute and were playing things like the pixies, incidentally. i will pick up my finished sugar bowl (yay!) on friday.

last night i finished a million little pieces and promptly burst into tears. it's an intense, powerful memoir of addiction and recovery, set in a minnesota clinic, that is depressing but also kind of uplifting. and brutally funny in parts. here's author james frey on how he wrote it. some readers might be irritated by his prose style (repetitive; run-ons galore; random capitalization), but i thought it was really effective in getting right to the heart of feelings and human interaction, which is a core theme. he actually made me believe quotation marks would just slow things down. i think he totally succeeds in getting you to feel what he feels. i give this book my highest recommendation. here's a salon story and the supposedly infamous observer interview in which he trashes dave eggers and other irony-obsessed writers, but i really suggest starting with the devastating first chapter.

cabaret laws face rewrite after 77 years.

i love restaurant week even though it means dropping $40 on a $20 prix-fixe lunch. yesterday i had a two-hour lunch with ex-coworkers at cite. dessert was a hot-fudge sundae. mmmmmm.

um, liz phair = kathy griffin? pitchfork gives her album a 0.0.

you too can be an official member of the word police. if you are smart enough, that is.

the 1st annual rivington cotillion ball, as it was billed on the oh-so-funny evite, was quite a success. the weather kind of sucked and so i had not prepared the roof for maximum partying (chairs, music, lights), which was sad. but people still went up there and it was still fun. other items of note: two men allowed jami to take cell-phone pictures of their private parts. tamar and i inadvertently touched tongues very late in the evening (we then screamed in horror). the local bartender dropped in several times and eventually went home with an out-of-town guest. as per usual party form, i placed several phone calls in the 4 a.m. hour. the keg was kicked absurdly early as always, but the copious supply of vodka and the 30-pack of bud hidden at holly's house kept us going. everybody got wasted. mission accomplished. (one sad thing: i apparently dropped my camera and the built-in lens cover is nowhere to be found. i'm actually surprised it hasn't taken more abuse over the years.)

clay is on the cover of rolling stone.

you can preorder the upcoming gbv album, earthquake glue, from matador for the absurdly low price of $10.20.

man, i just love reading these horrible reviews of liz phair's new album. this one is really good.

last night i hung out with cindy and randi, cindy being one of my review cohorts i get to see too rarely. she's just so cute and funny, i can't stand it. then i met up with eileen and holly and nate at this newish loungey place called people. we lounged, as lounge patrons ought to do, on very large, comfortable, expensive plush furniture upstairs, taking care to keep away from the...people. ha! also of note: pretty blonde bartender looks kinda like britt daniel. we then proceeded for some very unnecessary additional beers to iggy's, which does always seem to be the last-gasp sort of place. however, it might be coming back into favor, as we met the friendly bartender howard the other day. he seemed unfazed by our declaration that "we don't come here anymore because our favorite bartenders left." and now i am done rambling about bars and bartenders.

you can stream a lot of the new pernice brothers album. [thanks slatch]

bob pollard: "I am an indie rock icon, it's my occupation." by the way, their next album, "earthquake glue," is very pretty and likable. please try to hide your jealousy. the common man can purchase it in august.

the pulpy got pulled over and ticketed for "body parts outside of a motor vehicle" (golden boy). i think that's pretty great, don't you?

thanks to everyone who complimented (and linked to) the new design. i agree that it is all of the following and more: "super-snazzy," "fuckin' beautiful," "pretty nifty," "hott." i feel that it gives the pita a new legitmacy and that if and when my employers catch on, i can hold my head high and not be embarrassed. the pita is one hundred percent cool now, or, as one smartass person commented, "it finally looks good." whew!

today i am listening to morphine's "cure for pain." it seems right, with the rain. sad but not too. more soulful than sad, really. i like morphine. funny fact: the genre comes up as "general jazz."

speaking of this motherhumping rain, i would like to appeal to the gods of weather now. please please please please please please no rain saturday, okay? we want to be able to party on the rizzoof. we bought strapless dresses! we will be artificially tanned! please! give us clear skies!

the onion loves clem snide, too.

i noticed in the record store at lunch yesterday (purchases: "sumday" and "songs about fucking") that there is a new firewater album (kinda funny how the label doesn't seem to have heard of it), and that the natural history album is very cheap there (go buy it!).

here is a list of mp3s of all the songs that have been played on gilmore girls. in fact, the whole site seems to be dedicated to the role of music on the show. crazy. but good. [via fimoculous]

all-cat fotolog.

finally (whew, that was a big one), orrin hatch would like to destroy your comptuer, you dirty file-sharer, you. [via largehearted boy]

weekend report, in reverse order: did my daughterly duty and went to see dad sunday. we played tennis, discussed radical empiricism (don't ask), ate very fine steaks and cheesecake, and napped through analyze that. saturday i painted all day with new roommate kurt (slacker tamar showed up in the early evening hours). it was a good bonding experience. we now have nice clean-looking walls, two of which are this color. and friday night my new friendster, whom i shall refer to as cutie mccuterson, took me to see trans am at southpaw. i really liked the openers, a liars-ish punk band called measles, mumps and rubella. (no website! the nerve!) the singer was like an exceedingly bratty heather matarazzo, all flailing limbs and apparent temper tantrums: very entertaining. after the show we saw him looking around and q. was all, "he wants his mommy." heeeee. it was a good night.

cd anti-trust settlement could mean those of us who signed that online thingie a while back could get a check for $12. don't spend it all at once!

stupid president alert: funny pictures of bush falling off a segway.

you must look at these photos of crazy japanese trucks all tricked out. japanese truckers are clearly insane. via hi-fi new york.

insane queens man breaks a lot of guinness book records. he wants to cartwheel the fastest mile, balance more than 75 pint glasses on his chin, and do 6000 crunches in an hour.

jack white and renee zellweger? that is UNpossible.

shoplifter releases bees as diversion.

aguilera has rolls.

i so want to make cute little marble magnets. maybe i will have a craft night one of these days. crafty is the new cool: next week i am actually participating in girls' night at our name is mud. [via the modern age]

saddam's novel, "get out of here, curse you," has been found in baghdad. my favorite part of the story: "He said the Iraqi dictator did not write the books himself, but came up with plot outlines and forced a committee of Information and Culture Ministry officials to actually write them."

what if you had a sugar glider flying around the house? that would be funster.

the observer asked some novelists to evaluate hillary clinton's memoir. hilarity ensued. you get some funny excerpts, and francine prose goes off on the morality of quotation marks. [via gawker]

finally, i urge you to listen to clem snide's "all green," the best song off their forthcoming album, "soft spot." it's sweet and instantly singable. love that eef.

okay, not really. i am still here, alerting you to the fact that now you can combine two annoying things in one hipster accessory: ladies and gentlemen, the podhat!

i call bullshit... on tons of stuff." [via miss modernage]

if you are looking for a laugh, check out this very pitchforkian review of hail to the thief. did thom yorke get beat up? i'm confused.

yesterday was miss vanessa's birthday. we celebrated at hi fi, which is my new favorite bar due to its nice long coppery tables and 1800-album digital jukebox. staci made a fabulous chocolate and raspberry cake, which pretty much made everybody's night. here is the scene just before we mortified vanessa by singing "happy birthday":

finally, a hearty congratulations to mr. and mrs. bothum, who welcomed an eight-pound, fat-faced, dark-haired baby girl into this world on sunday. yay babies!

10. do not make out on the subway. a quick peck before your beloved gets off at his or her stop is okay; multiple such or lingering kisses are not. your fellow riders are repulsed by your love; have a little respect for their bitter, lonely worldviews, okay?

11. when sitting, legs should remain in line with the body and not splay out to the sides, spilling over onto the adjacent seat. you have inner-thigh muscles; use them.

12. no fat asses in small spaces. you know how fat your ass is; if it looks like it can't fit in that middle seat, just stand.

13. when possible, one seat of buffer zone between people. there is no good reason to touch hips with someone if it can be avoided.

14. get up for old people if they look like a tennis match is clearly out of the question and pregnant ladies if they are clearly pregnant. you have no excuse.

15. homeless people should not be smelly.

16. if it is a crowded train, take off your backpack and place it at your feet. if i subtly nudge your backpack in an attempt to alert you to its existence, do not swing sharply around and look at me accusingly. you stupid fuck, take your big dumb backpack off!

17. if someone is engaging in the obviously moronic behavior of attempting to enter a car before anyone has gotten off, you may be as aggro as you wish. feel free to take out your hostilities and slam your body into them. you may even pick them up and move them if, say, they are a tiny chinese lady.

18. just move into the center of the goddamned car already.

19. if you do not know how to read the new york times on the subway, do not read the new york times on the subway.

20. do not sing along to your walkman/ipod. nod head or tap foot only. you cannot sing. you may dance a little because that is funny.

21. you know what, stop fiddling with your stupid ipod. it's annoying.

22. no farting.

23. no staring. you may check out others' outfits with impunity, and you may also stare (until you are caught) in the window reflections, but prolonged direct eye contact is unacceptable.

24. no mcdonald's or other stinky foods.

25. hold the fuck on. the last thing we need is you flying all over the subway car like an idiot. also, do not allow your hand to slide down the pole and touch anyone else's hand. if it does happen to slip, do not just leave it there, forcing the injured party to move their hand! why would you do that?

26. do not lean or wrap your whole body against the pole in a crowded train, unless you are elizabeth berkley. if i come up and try to grab the pole where your big-ass back is, do not keep leaning against the pole like a complete dick. i will be forced to use the knuckle defense on you.

27. if you are standing in front of the doors, do not allow your fat ass or any other body parts to spill over the bars into the personal space of the person in the seat next to you. the fact that they have scored a seat does not mean they have relinquished all rights to personal space.

28. basically, try not to be a ponce on the subway.

i reviewed the yes new york compilation over at 75 or less. take a look, whydontcha.

i desperately want to make my cat look like anne of green gables. unfortunately, xena phoebe (space warrior) would slice me up six ways to sunday if i ever attempted such a thing.

top two times editors resign. jayson blair is such a dick.

"williamsburg" is on friendster. heh.

want to buy a "ghost in a jar"? or maybe some ghost poop in a jar? ghost in a jar snack pack? eveningwear for your ghost in a jar? ghost in my pants in a jar? oh the hilarity.

have you guys heard stuff about the ssion? i had heard some positive things, and so when mr. werde asked me if i wanted to see them at sin-e, i said sure. here is what you need to know about the ssion (pronounced "SHON," and not the way more fun "suh-SIE-on" like i had hoped): no instruments. two sequined chicken suits, female; one sequined cow suit with crotch-udder, male. picture a lower-class, less-talented fischerspooner. more punk rock, to be sure, but... eh. ultimately shticky and boring. not buzz-worthy! werde liked them, though, in his werde way. tall boys, who played just prior to "SHON," were better. they had the fashion down but were not obnoxious about it, with the lead singer in black short-shorts, a black top with a yellow one peeking out around her waist, red belt, and red pumps. and the moves, too (a few copped from karen o, i noticed). their sound was a little harsh, in that jagged punk-rock way. possibly an acquired taste. the singer was a pretty entertaining frontwoman, shrieking in a way that reminded me of kathleen hanna and pounding her feet into the floor at all times. she also took off those red pumps, which was endearing. i didn't love them, but i liked them. i would not groan were i to be faced with them again.

jami redesigned, y'all. and yesterday she had the best celebrity sighting ever.

study finds jack shit.

itunes music store courts indie labels.

spoon at castle clinton, july 24. i'm so taking the day off. [thanks, slatch]

indierocklive.com. there's some my morning jacket and some spiritualized up there now.

holy skamoly, this guy traded his radiohead tickets for a house!!! [via miss modernage]

this is just a sick sick story about "bug chasers," a cute name for people who actively seek to acquire HIV. [thank you, pulpypants]

do i have any readers living in the town of grandview, new york, or grandview on hudson, new york? or any readers who know someone who does? please do get in touch. i need a favor.

nice slam of liz phair's embarrassing new album. [via chromewaves]

funny story about a mediabistro seminar on music journalism. [thanks again, miss modernage]

women's pants are to blame for our troubles.

belated weekend report: the hold steady had me all aquiver from the get-go. total concert nirvana, many times over. at one point i shrieked "guitar solos!!" into jami's ear. i also screamed "hold steady!" at least once, and tamar screamed "total party!" several times. everyone loved them. and that's all i'll say about that. till next time. also, re: the sad rainy weekend, i think i could've gone my whole life without ever having seen "the big chill" and been just fine. however, i am very glad that i saw the last 30 minutes of the national spelling bee. that girl stalling on "aplustre" was just hilarious. first it was the nonstop repetition of the word "aplustre" with some kind of west indian accent, then it was the judges commanding her to stop fucking around: "you need to start spelling IMMEDIATELY!" haaaaa.