Category Archives: Lush Life

zoology update: dodos still can’t fly

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Dodo, yo!A drunken Australian tourist, wandering the streets of our fair city (specifically The Drive) and suddenly going bladder-critical, decided that, rather than simply pee off the bridge to the railway lines 100 feet below like a thousand drunkards before him, he’d better climb up on top of the cagework surrounding the bridge and ascend a tree, presumably to pee therefrom onto the selfsame railway lines, now 200 feet below.

The cages went up a few years ago, after a fellow drunkard took a fatal dive off the bridge during … was it Greek Days or Caribbean Days? In any case, they are now holding their festivals farther north on The Drive, and prudently well away from anything bridge-like. But apparently, there is no deterring a drunken Aussie.

Tenacious isn’t the word.

Emergency officials say the man broke at least one bone, but will be OK, as branches slowed his fall.

Vancouver fire department Capt. Rick Matsen says it was obvious the man had been drinking until just moments before his fall.

“Well, it just so happens he had a beer with him when he was brought up,” he said.

“Still in his hands?” asked a reporter.

“Still in his hands, yup. He held on to it pretty tight, I’m thinking,” said Matsen.

socialite name generator

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Perfect for me! Socialist/Socialite, who can tell them apart, eh? Via the Generator Blog.

My name is Rain Hoffstetter.
Take The Manhattan Socialite Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey‘s Name Generator Generator.

Pretty freaky name choice, eh? Nobody told me those psocialites were psychic!

Today in Crazy US Weekly Guy News: the demon drink

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Crazy US Weekly Guy 

Don’t know if you’ve been following the internet drama over at Gawker, but it’s reached DefCon 3 and is heating up faster than John Hinckley at a Freaky Friday matinee. I referred to Crazy Us Weekly Guy once before, with fervent hopes this wasn’t a short, but would turn out more like the LOTR of the Internet, with Jessica in the part of Arwen and C.U.W.G. as Aragorn. I think Janice Min is Denethor, but it’s hard to tell.

In any case, the whole saga has bypassed Middle Earth entirely, and has quickly washed up on the seamy shores of Trees Lounge. No three hour tour, this. Buckle up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

A dainty slice from the 200-page potroast  of a document which he sent Gawker:

in us weekly, issue 5/15/06, on page 38 is an ad for absolut vodka. on the next page (page 39), is jessica alba.

the first message is:

jessica alba sol = jessica alba soulmate.

the second message is in the word vodka. MIT (a school famous for science, which i will explain the significance of later) makes their “u’s” look like “v’s.” because of this, “u” and “v” are interchangeable.

“k” is short for “okay.”

“a” is the 1st letter of the alphabet

therefore, the word vodka, becomes the message:

do, ok?, u 1 =

“i do. you’re the one, okay?”

look at the word ABSOLUT [vodka]:Absolut bullshit, really

Tee is what you hit a golf ball off of, jessica golfs
U = you
ABS = absolute

so the message becomes “you and t (=jessica) absolute soulmates”
the ad for the absolut vodka, is on page 38. this is no accident. this is kind of a joke between me and god, that it is going to take 3.8 seconds for jessica to say yes “i want to marry you.”

this is an aside, i’ve been working on my proposal for a while, and first i had the idea of being married to jessica after several years of dating. then years became months, months became days, then days became hours. then hours became one hour. then i thought to myself “why can’t i make it instantaneously?” god told me then “1 minute.” then one minute became a few seconds, then finally god said “3.8 seconds.” this number comes up frequently, and it refers to winning over a person (in this case jessica, my soulmate) at the speed of light.

the fact that a bottle of vodka is on page 38 (=3.8 seconds) is a clear sign to me, that my affect on jessica alba will be intoxicating – a bottle of vodka!

and now, i’m planning on making it instantaneously, “yes!” even less than 3.8 seconds.

lastly, and this is cute, on the ad for the vodka bottle is the word “proof.” as in god is offering some proof to the world.

And so on…

Baked Lobster Caught!

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Psychadelic Lobster, Carlin CarlinusHalf-baked, anyway. I suggest a scientific name Carlin Cheechinigus, but that’s subject to (dis-) approval.

This hallucinogenic beauty was caught off the coast of Maine, so the possibility exists that he was just on his way back from a wild party on the Gaspe, which would explain why he still looks half-baked.

Although it no doubt has an ironclad alibi. It’s underage, too, as are some of its most vociferous fans. Here is the report from the Bangor newspaper:

“Dude, it’s half orange and half, like, regular color for a lobster,” exclaimed Alyssa Bonin, 12, of Webster, Mass.

Sharp eyes there, Alyssa. Maybe a little bloodshot from the sounds of things, but still, sharp.

Mills intends to keep the two-toned lobster over the winter and have him on display for educational purposes, though he has no plans to name him.

“Lobsters are interesting but not personable,” he said.

We at the raincoaster blog beg, of course, to differ. Even our on the one hand shall not know what our on the other hand is doing

The rare 1-pound crustacean, caught earlier this week in Steuben, is a genetic mutation with a two-toned shell.

One side is the usual mottled dark green. The other side is the orange-red shade of a lobster that’s already spent some time in the hot pot.

The odds of this kind of mutation occurring are very rare – something like one in 50 million to 100 million, according to oceanarium staff. The chance of finding a blue lobster is far more common, at one in a million.

“Isn’t he pretty?” Bette Spurling of Southwest Harbor cooed Thursday as she stroked the lobster’s shell to calm him down.

Now that is the proper way to treat an addled celebrity. Not at all the way Jon Stewart did with the poor, hapless and handsome Butterscotch Stallion here (heartlessly stolen from Defamer):

 

The New Vidal and Capote

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“Doug, you tiny little fairy, you arrested boy, I will break your back over my knee in the press and I will push your face inside out in private or public . . . Mention my name anywhere ever again, and we’re going to find out two things: First, whose word means anything anymore in this town. Second, how many times I can slam my fist into your face before someone pulls me off you.” He signed off: “Now you wait for it.”

and here it is, at Toby Young’s book party.

Spiegelman vs Dechert

Gawker has the whole slideshow.

Jacob wrestles with an angel. You pick who’s who.

We hate these events, these self-importantant celebrations of a crowd’s collective arrogance. But once every three or four decades, something genuinely interesting happens. In this case, at Toby Young’s book party tonight at Soho House, the crowd was treated to two writers working out their mutual hatred like twelve-year-old boys. Former Page Sixer Ian Spiegelman lost his job in 2004 ostensibly because of a threatening email he sent to [insert sketchy adjective here] writer Doug Dechert (more backstory here). Tonight, these two were reunited and, after the right amount of lukewarm liquor, they worked their issues out with fisticuffs. There’s more to explain later in the forthcoming party crash, but at this hour the pictures are story enough. More bloodshed — or the drink-throwing sissy journalist version thereof —here

and a little background on the party here, from the Huffpo. If I could find it in the debris that is Diary-X, I would post my own review of Toby Young’s first book. All you really need to know is that I used the expression “Three-orgasm Schadenfreude.“