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Archive for the ‘Williamsburg’ Category

In case some of you people don’t read one of the ten thousand blogs that review “Gossip Girl” on a weekly basis, I’m going to give you a rundown of what’s been going on. I want you all to be caught up to speed so you can fully enjoy tonight’s episode. Because you all should watch “Gossip Girl.” Each and every one of you. Even you boys.

Very quickly:

Serena – Main character. Blonde, beautiful, left NY mysteriously for one year but is back. Used to be a party girl.
Blair – Used to be BFForevs with Serena. Obvs is the less desirable of the duo since she is a brunette. Has secretly always been jealous of Serena, and for good reason.
Nate – Blair’s boyfriend. Is a tool. Slept with Serena before she left. Is the reason why Blair hates Serena.
Dan – Good guy. Is not rich. Likes Serena.
Chuck – Evil and insanely rich. Is the most ridiculous human being on earth. Is my favorite character.

Episode One: review

Episode Two: Serena decides she really likes Dan after their first date. Dan is secretly embarrassed because he tried to say “bye” to Serena as she left the cab at the end of the night, but she didn’t hear him. It was cute. Also cute, the point in the episode where Blair parades around her bedroom in a corset and sheer robe with fur cuffs. And by cute I mean weird. And old seeming. Like, old-timey seeming.

Back to the plot, for their second date Serena invites Dan to The Rapist’s (aka Chuck Bass’s) weekly brunch held at The Palace Hotel. If I had a bajillion dollars I would hold a brunch like this. And like the show, I would only invite high schoolers and serve them alcohol. Just seems like the right thing to do. Anyway, while at brunch, Dan feels out of place since unlike everyone else in attendance he’s from humble beginnings. Dan, for those of you who don’t know, lives in Brooklyn with his father and younger sister. They live in massive loft in Williamsburg. And I know, W-burg is basically the same price as Manhattan. BUT, here’s what I figure: Dan’s father is a musician and it seems as though he’s been living in NY for a while. So, it’s possible he bought a place in Wills when it was more industrial and less hipster occupied. Hence, this show is completely realistic. Now, where was I…oh right, a million dollar brunch hosted by a seventeen year old.

Towards the end of the brunch Dan finds out Serena sexed it up with Nate while Nate was still dating Blair. Dan says, “I thought you were different.” Serena says, “I thought you were too.” And then they go their (Journey) separate ways.

Episode Three: Episode three begins with a school assembly that kicks off with an a capella version of Fergie’s “Glamorous.” I must say, had our morning events begun with our high school choir singing “Angel of Mine” by Monica, I assure you, I wouldn’t have skipped every single AM gathering that didn’t take attendance. (Once, I decided to sleep in rather than participate in this activity called I-Flirt where every student filled out a questionnaire and discovered which classmates they were most compatible with. To this day, I regret never knowing who my high school soul mate was. [Pizappas, remember when X-n’s number one match was MD, her arch nemesis?])

So, this assembly is important because its focus is on Ivy Week, and Ivy Week’s grand finale where reps from every Ivy league school come to scout out who’s hot and who’s not. It’s a very big event. And can in many ways make or break these students’ chances of getting into school. Since it’s pretty clear SAT scores or grades are no longer important.

A little further into the show, Chuck, from his limo, spots Serena entering a rehab facility. After slowly rolling up his tinted glass window until all you see are Chuck’s eyes framed between two black objects, he tells Blair the news. Both consider this to be the juciest of the juicy, and Blair plans to expose Serena’s “drug problem” to the Ivy reps and class at the week’s main event. (Bitch!) But neither C or B know that Serena was actually going in to visit her brother who recently tried to off himself.

Finally, at the Ivy affair, as planned, Blair announces to the entire crowd that Serena’s pulling a Lohan (rehab). Shortly after, Serena’s brother charges up to Blair and reveals to her his wrist scars. Blair feels remorse. And not because she was most likely wearing a corset underneath her dress, but because she realizes Serena’s life is hard. Then in the final scene Blair reads Serena a letter she wrote to her, but never sent, while Serena was away at boarding school asking S why she left without saying goodbye, explains how she needs S and wants to talk to her, and lastly, how her dad left her mom for “a 31 year-old model. A male model.” (That quote right there deserves four stars.)

The two then cry together under a central park bridge and it seems are once again a united front. <@:)

Episode Four: Serena and Blair are once again BFFs. Blair’s mother, a fashion designer, decides to put Blair in her new ad. While at the fashion shoot everyone realizes Serena has more presence than Blair and Blair’s mom thinks Serena should model instead. Blair tells Serena she steals everything from her, which is technically true, and Serena explains she was told they were doing the shoot together. Blair confronts her mom about being a cold-hearted bitch, and B and S steal B’s mom’s dresses and take glamour shots of each other at Columbus Circle.

Subplot: A pal from Nate and Chuck’s past comes back. He’s a self-proclaimed hippie who comes from money. You know, everyone’s favorite type of person. Chuck does not like hippie and cannot understand why Nate would want to hang out with him, “We’re who you aim to be, not run away from.” Truer words have never been spoken, Chuck.

Everyone’s fave rapist

Fake poor guy tricks Nate into a high stakes poker game, where he is secretly guaranteed to lose. Nate loses $10,000, cannot pay it at the moment, almost gets beat to death, until Chuck barges in and saves the day. Chuck threatens hippie to leave them alone or else, and pays off Nate’s losses. I like the route this series is taking. Everyone who watches this show is well aware of the fact that Chuck is a serial rapist who mostly targets girls just out of middle school. And yet the producers felt compelled to make this guy into a hero. As if to say, everyone has a good side. Even rapists. Bravo, Gossip Girl. Bravo indeed.

xoxo
jbm

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Nostalgia is fully represented in popular culture. Images & products of vintage television, video game and brands are found everywhere, offering a sense of happy recollection with a slight sense of irony.

Barcade is a staple of Williamsburg, letting you wade knee deep in the nostalgia by offering a host of antique arcade games. You can relive playing Ms. Pacman & Galaga with a joystick that for some reason won’t move left, just like back in the day! All the while they offer a wide selection of drinks.

In this same spirit, the owners are opening a new bar this weekend in Greenpoint called The Gutter. They will be offering the same mix of nostalgia, with a new suburban feel, by offering goold ole fashioned, plaid pant wearing bowling.

I know personally I’ve traversed the length of Brooklyn in order to find bowling, and finally to have one so close is like mana from heaven.

So you should definitely relive the joy of communal shoes & tacky bowling shirts while receiving of what I expect to be (similar to Barcade) a wide selection of draft beers. After intense research by the Brooklyn Skeptic staff, I’m sure you will get an in-depth review later.

The Gutter
200 North 14th Street
Monday – Thursday 4pm to 4am
Friday – Sunday 12 noon to 4am

Bowl!

 

Photo by”highwaygirl67″

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Last Saturday I joined a club dominated by bikers, sorority girls, and rockabilly-ers… rockabillists… whatever. What was this club, you ask? Bingo addicts anonymous? The we love tight jeans club? No, it was the we have tattoos club!

After confirming that cabbage is indeed my spirit vegetable, I decided to go “all the way” with it and have its likeness permanently etched into my shoulder. Excellent.

I Googled “food tattoos” to see what the genre had to offer. A very lovely picture of a parsnip tattoo led me to Dave Wallin, a fantastic artist at Williamsburg’s Tattoo Culture.

food tat

From the initial email he was super friendly and helpful and we arranged a time to meet. He seemed very professional, the tattoo parlor seemed very clean, I was sold. I emailed him some hot pixxx of cabbage I’d taken to use as a reference and thanks to my $50 deposit he started in on a sketch right away.

The next time I saw him I came in to check out the sketch, which was on tracing paper that he laid on my shoulder so we could get an idea of what it would look like. But it was only the outline! I’d envisioned layers and layers of subtle details… how could I trust this guy I didn’t know to make permanent marks on my body when he couldn’t even get them down on paper?

As I was freaking out at him, Dave did an excellent job of listening to my concerns and responding as though I was a normal person rather than a completely wussy loser. He explained that he’d be shading it with lots of tiny lines, similar to what you see on a dollar bill, and that the pencil wasn’t fine enough to replicate this on the tracing paper. It would end up looking smudgy-shaded, which is not what he was going to do.

And he totally knew the magic words to make me shut up and trust him. When I was stressing about the size or that it would be too realistic or not dark enough he said – well, we want to keep it from looking like a celtic knot-tribal explosion.

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Kaboooom

And he was right, that was exactly the explosion I feared most.

That day we set the appointment for the real thing, and last Saturday, after a hearty breakfast, I went over there for my appointment!

The tattoo itself was 3 hours of what felt like getting stung by a bee over and over and over again. Not the kind of pain that has you cursing the day you were born or crying out in agony, but the kind that’s like, damn, is this over yet?

tattoo.jpg

In progress…

Along the way Dave was engaging and pleasant as he and mooseknuckle and I planned out what my next tattoos will be… a space scene on my other shoulder, Gandalf on my stomach holding up my breasts like orbs, et cetera. That shit will be awesome.

So, if you are considering joining “the club” (the tatto club, not the car theft deterrence device) Dave Wallin at Tatto Culture gets Brooklyn Skeptic’s full and unwavering endorsement.

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Cabbage in the hizouse.

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The most Brooklynest band in Brooklyn is playing at Trash Bar in Williamsburg this week. Be there, or be square. And by “square,” I mean “one who does not partake in free beer from 8 – 9 p.m.”

met.gif

Friday, July 20
8:00 p.m.
Trash Bar
256 Grand Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

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Here’s some news that was good to me, but probably bad for Williamsburg (which really just makes it better for me): Galapagos Art Space is moving!

Galapagos has been in Williamsburg for twelve years, during which time the space hosted such notables as Monster Eiffel Tower. They were there when everyone had payos instead of asymmetrical haircuts and kippahs instead of skinny jeans. But it looks like Galapagos gave up on Billysburg, blanching at their landlord’s requested 30% rent increase. Apparently they can’t handle the gentle peaks and troughs of the “radically chic, chicly radical” neighborhood’s real estate market. Pussies.

So, keep an eye out for Galapagos moving into a huge space in DUMBO and making real estate speculators shriek with glee as another incredibly cool, expensive neighborhood grows up around the club.

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Last night I watched a very informative program on VH1: Lindsay Lohan’s Most Shocking. Initially I was reluctant to invest an hour of my precious time to a program dedicated to exposing truths I was already familiar with. (I am well aware of Linzzee’s party girl tendencies, and her internet leaked crotch shots.) However, me being who I am, a celeb indulging gossiper, watched this show in its entirety, and…was not disappointed. If anything, ironically, I came out of the hour long Lohan fest liking the red-headed seductress even more than I already didn’t. (That’s right, didN’T. I have spent the better half of my time here in NY shit talking Lohan….while secretly hoping to run into her on the street, because apparently, I love her.)

Anyway, after viewing “Lindsay Lohan’s Most Shocking” I realize Lindsay is not the worst of the party girls. Is she a liar? Sure. Is she immature? Who, these days isn’t? Does she like to snort coke? Listen, these actresses need to stay thin, and not everyone wants to fuck with trimspa. But my point is, she is just like the rest of young Hollywood, only she is forced deal with one person no other young Hollywood starlet must endure: Michael Lohan.

Michael Lohan, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the Lohan clan, is Lindsay’s father. (FYI: Dina is Lindsay’s stage mom, Ali is Lindsay’s little sister, and I think Lindz has a lil’ bro too, but we don’t care about him.) Anyway, Father Lohan was recently released from jail, however during his time of incarceration Michael wrote an apologetic ballad to Lindsay, in response to her single, “Confessions of a Broken Heart,” and published these poetic lyrics in the NY Daily News. The NY Daily News, people, the NY Daily News. This, ladies and gents, is why no one can convince me of Lindsay’s behavior as being unwarranted. Had I read poem like lyrics, written by my former stock broker father, in aa/bb rhyme scheme, dedicated to me, in the newspaper, I’m sure I too would do everything in my power to forget that words, in general, exist. And I would attempt to forget by party hardying. Just. Like. Lindsay.

Also addressed in the Lohanmentary were Lindsay’s ongoing celebrity battles. You know, her quarrels with Paris, Scarlett, and that rich douche, Brandon Davis. In case you pay no attention to celebrity gossip (Recklesley), Brandon D was caught on film calling Lindsay derogatory redheaded slurs, and claimed she “shits freckles.” Admittedly, the latter comment made me chuckle a little. However, that does not excuse the fact that Davis, who is in no position to be judging someone else’s appearance, is an arse.

(Fug Davis)

And I could not care less about either Paris Hilton or Scarlett Johannson. Although, Paris Hilton, in my opinion, is the worst human being, period. If the devil, Lucifer, is amongst us right now, disguised as an idiot blonde who enjoys tumbling off horses and making sex vids, then I believe Paris Hilton is the devil. Therefore, in these fights, Lindsay comes out on top.

But most importantly, let us never forget both “Freaky Friday” and “Mean Girls.” These two films catapulted Lindsay’s career for a reason. They are funny, heartfelt, and really capture the true Lohan essence. I love both these movies, and hence, my heart will always hold a soft spot for Miss Lindsay Lohan.

The. End.

PS Did you read Michael Lohan’s song lyrics? I wonder who “THEM” refers to!

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