It's a Top 10 List of Things that Move Me the Most, Bother Me the Most, Scare Me the Most

Leisurely reader: you don't need me to swear that I longed for this blog, born out of my little brain & navel, to be the most smokin' hot baby imaginable, the most purple, the most intelligent and quasi-intellectual. But could I contradict the natural order of things? Like creates like.

So what could my emotional, mediated/oft-intoxicated "wit" give birth to except the history of a hysterical child, over-metabolised, whining, its head stuffed with all kinds of thoughts no one else would even think of, like a girl bred in an emo cave of her own design, where everything grates on your nerves and every new sound (for example the men drilling giant holes on my sidewalk who woke me up this morning), makes you still sadder. Other circumstances (e.g., flying lesbians, L Word character development, fresh fruit, kind awakenings, tranquil spirit) would turn even the most sterile Muses fertile, filling the world with almost-hipsterish, consistent, honest and well-bred offspring. But instead ... we have Auto-Win. Who is here to celebrate.

Yes! Two years ago April 8th, in order to best allow you to make the acquaintance of such a noble/honorable knight, the celebrated Sancho/MLB [not major league baseball or the modern languages building] began writing a blog called "This Girl called Automatic Win." ¹

Actually, my motivations for beginning this blog, as I'm sure most of you know by now, isn't related to extolling virtues, it was 'cause my roommate/everything at the time (as in -- "everything a person can be to another person," including best friend & co-worker) (this is a common recipe for disaster) had a blog, and so I wanted a blog too. She had other things I wanted too, like rock-hard abs, black legwarmers, rhythm, a savings account, reasonably sized feet, a functional bicycle and usually a large bag of miniature candy bars. Aside from the legwarmers, which I took and still have, I couldn't have any of those things. But I could have A BLOG! I was very mature then, just as I'm very mature now, and I do not covet, just like Moses told me to. Actually, yeah I do.

[Also I haven't rocked the legwarmers in a while, 'cause I haven't worn a skirt and/or dress in a while, 'cause I have short hair now and I feel like girls with short hair in dresses always remind me of Seasons 1-3 Miranda. Miranda is obvs my favorite SATC character: she's got the best comebacks/one-liners, reminds me of me, and let's face it -- I'm no Charlotte, and Carrie & Samantha are annoying. Howevs, somehow her overall look's always suggested something self-consciously "power-wifey," like the "Before" Nicole Kidman in The Stepford Wives remake or a female newscaster from the early 90's w/shoulderpads or a politician. You know what I mean? Mainly, the thing is that I'm 26, not 46 or even 36. I don't expect to live past 56, so I've gotta harvest my rosebuds while I may, etc.

The point is that starting around Season Four, Cynthia Nixon's undoubtable hotness finally came out of the closet via a new improved haircut that suited her overall look and the format of television itself quite well:

Does everyone get my point? How'd I start talking about Miranda? Oh yes. Skirts --> legwarmers ---> blog.]

So I've been trying to think of a Sunday Top Ten topic that relates to the Second Bloggiversary without being like a VH1 special for myself. Like you know they're just ACHING at VH1 for 2010 so they can start filming "We Love the Aughts." I'd pondered "Top Ten Moments on My Blog of the Last Year," or something equally self-obsessed ... but I did already do a Best of the Top Tens post, and a few Year in Review posts, so really, how much more can I possibly indulge in the self-reflexive navel-gazing related instant nostalgia you've come to expect here at Auto-Win?

OMG, So Much More!!!!

---

Sunday Top Ten: All The Top Tens I Thought About Writing In Honor of the Bloggiversary, But Then, Obvs Didn't
[Or, "The Soul's Agents"]
[Or, "An Autowin Buffet! Something for Everyone!]

[This post isn't going to flow upon your readership perfectly but I'm hoping, and therefore telling you, that it's worth it.]
[This is a long one.]

"Every night before bed, say for a week, / we recommend admitting a lie / or a deception, sotto voice, a rogue's prayer /
to the soul you know you have, / no matter how tattered or dormant.

Trust us, your secrets differentiate you

from no one, but the soul awakens
a little when it hears them."

---

10. Thunder Perfect Autowin/ Top 10 Paradoxes

"And if only you could raise / your hypocrisy to the level of art, / like forgery, there might be / real hope for you."

In December, Stef and A;ex did a vlog with us for Cait, who's shoulder wasn't feeling nice. After filming, sitting in the hallway, A;ex said to me, dead serious, re: the vlogging experience: "I thought I'd lost you there for a minute."

That night was the first time I'd declared I wanted to stop vlogging, but I was convinced by my comrades to soldier on. Last week sometime, A;ex and Cait were talking about how truly weird it is -- the way Hav & I change when the camera goes on. Hav's a professional, obvs, but for me I guess it's protection ... a "character," 'cause that open revelation of physicality felt too personal for me. I'd nixed footage from the car on the night Hav met Lozo 'cause it felt too "real," and did attempt to halt "Uh Huh ... Her?" production once too. Thank G-d I didn't, 'cause that prize pack probs has a genie in it, and I hope a few posters/real dolls.

Speaking of "real" dolls ... I'm not sure what the "real" me is ["real" is a problematic term ... "authentic"? "full"?] As my profile suggests, I do not know who I am. I don't know what that means -- it's not that I'm just growing up, it's that I change my mind a lot. It's that until the age of 14, I wanted to be an actress. 'Til 18: filmmaker. Now: marine biologist. JK, I just liked Sea World a lot once.

So now that Haviland's in L.A., why am I still vlogging? Clearly being on camera is more her thing. Well ... follow-through. Is an interest. And it's fun! It's fun now, w/various guest vloggers. But mostly: I la-la-love editing, it's like my number one favorite activity. I like the feedback, it's another way to be "known" in this performance art liveblog known as um, whatever this is. I find it interesting. I love that it's brought new readers/audience, which I didn't expect (for people to watch the vlogs independently from reading this, like that they'd be entertaining enough on their own?). Different circumstances, different formats or media, calls for different attitudes.

And y'know, there's that "lonely little lez in Iowa" ... 'cause I wonder, always, if I'd seen Shane as an adolescent and believed that there were lesbians out there who weren't just like my Mom or her friends, if maybe that would've changed everything.

But also, clearly that is also me, even if it's not all of me. What is the "real me" anyhow? Can it be a lot of things, or is that a lie? I often gravitate towards very specific & self-assured people, maybe 'cause I want clues of how to be so sure of myself, because I'm a Sancho at heart, never a real knight. Childhood and adolescence demands a choice, adulthood I hope offers more freedom.

'Cause paradox, contradiction, inner conflict ... is my bag. Because I am also opposites. Because that's why I feel like I'm always lying, which is consequently why I feel the need. To talk so much. "This is what I just said, but [this] is what I meant." [pause] "No. [this] is what I meant."

To start with, "pop" culture vs. "high" culture. Bisexuality. Like You vs. Like Everyone. Insecure vs. Sure. Smart vs. Vapid. Ambitious vs. Depressive. And so on. I feel howevs that I've possibly discussed this so much that I must've done a Top Ten about it at some point?

---

9. Top Ten Things I Don't Say, Haven't Said

"Some people of course expect / to be rewarded for stumbling / and rising from the floor / and stumbling again, but we give / no credit for living."

Our culture, now, is very "Behind the Music." This "what can I avoid saying? what do people know anyway?" complex has clear origins: meeting people in 3-D via blog who say "I thought ____ was happening, but I would never have said so, or asked" (and it was) (or wasn't), the occasional succession of questions via comment or email, some interesting reader survey responses, the fact that I feel -- because I read too much into everything myself -- that some things are obvious, that I don't need to say them, but also realize, no-one's paying nearly as much attention as I am (to myself). I've lately started to assume that no-one assumes anything really. Do you?

---

8. There Are Beautiful Things I Want to Dispose Of [reader suggested topic]

"We favor vitality / over goodness, even over effort;"

Sometimes I obtain books I've already read just to have my own copy. For example, I borrowed "The Year of Magical Thinking" (Joan Didion) from Krista, "I Am Not Myself These Days" (Josh Kilmer-Purcell) from Lo, "Appetites" (Caroline Knapp) from the public library, "Girl" (Blake Nelson) from Kristyna in 10th grade. Then I'll see a copy at a used bookstore and think, well, I'd like to have my own copy. But it has no underlines. Now, I rarely borrow books I intend to return. I haven't forgotten ... I just cracked the spine, dog-eared the pages and possibly also underlined.

I gave up tight jeans about six months ago. I keep them, in case I give up baggy jeans again. History would suggest role reversal could occur at any moment, I'd like to be prepared/budget about it.

Once, my legendary (and presently radio silent) high school soulmate/BFF/everything sold all his clothing and possessions and moved to Africa. I'd like to do that, but maybe stay here. Just to prove that I can. But what if I can't?

I just found a Calvin Klien tag for a push-up bra. $36.00. Underneath the iconic font spelling out "Calvin Klien," handwriting reads: "Aspects of a Theory of Syntax (1957)."

Sometimes people would give me earrings as gifts, though I didn't have my ears pierced. Being female, I guess, was enough.

I have a file in my file folder called "The Way We Were." Some happy, some sad.

---

7. Top 10 Most Important Autowin Moments since April 8th, 2007
"'we love a great belly laugh / more than anything."

1 be my intern (may 07), 2 breakup (june 07), 3 living it out (july 07),
4 we're alright we're up all night, and y'all emerged from the vortex (august 07)
5 the big reveal (august 07), 6 first vlog (oct. 07)
7 getting fired (deleting my entire blog and then re-posting it) (oct 07),
8 renewal (nov 07)
9 visiting the actual carousel of progress, obvs (feb 08).
10 because i heard from a lot of you i hadn't heard from in a while (march 08).

The problem is, I don't think that's true, I think I'm picking the wrong things and missing things, and even thinking about this list makes my head hurt and then it makes me feel too self-centered anyhow, so I have to stop.

---

6. Top 10 Things That Have Changed Since April 8th, 2007

"In your case we do worry / there may not be enough / quarrel in you, or enough courage / to acknowledge your worst inclinations."

I live somewhere new now. I'm sick of hearing gunshots all the time. Sometimes I think it'd be easier if I just saw someone get shot, 'cause maybe it's not hearing shots but the sense of impending doom that one day I will see it happen, but then I remember when they shot her up at the hospital, and that it made me so sick/sad that I fell on the floor too, and sobbed, and then they made me leave, and then I realize I couldn't handle witnessing a bullet from a gun, could I. I don't wanna see people go down. What did the hands feel like? and about the hearts. could you feel their hearts beating beneath their chests?

I cut my hair so I'd stop being heckled, so I could pass for a boy in the dark & winter, or at least a lesbian in the light & spring. I no longer purchase unlimited metrocards. There is Tegan & Sara.

Oh ...

I might, in fact, argue: everything, absolutely everything.

---

5.

"Know that the soul converts them / into tenderness. Nothing pleases it more."

So, I was reading my friend's post about April's cruelty and thought I would like to somehow
write about the concentrated succession of tragedies upon single beings [not referring, here, to a specific being [unfortunately, I am referring to life generally as I know it but also to many specific beings], but I don't know enough grammar to tell you what I mean] without naming tragedies.

5a. And realize this:

That I grew up in a swamp of it (my mother: her parents divorced, her father disappeared, mother died at 14, raised by grandparents who died, her father reappeared, then died, she divorced, her ex-husband died, my father: nothing much, 'til his own. i don't know if that's fair or not, my suspicion is that life isn't). Therefore, wasn't expecting otherwise, necessarily, though I was hoping and still believed -- until about a year ago [a feeling that's grown stronger and stronger still] -- that there was a certain amount of order to be expected. I no longer believe in such things.

All you can do, as a woman once said in a suprisingly wise moment of a vlog, is "just wait for the next joke. So we should just try to laugh and make out as much as possible."

---

4. Top 10 Things I Talk About But Maybe Shouldn't, Due to Technical Problems, like Actual Lack of Authority

"So next week why not admit / that what Raskolnikov did / has always made you dream?"

Why not admit that I didn't know who Raskolnikov was, so I googled him, and found him on Wikipedia, and, in lieu of ever actually reading Crime & Punishment: yes, I find what he did [according to the good people at Wikipedia] dreamy. It's the dream of being right enough to take an axe to it, right? I often dream of losing my teeth or being inconveniently naked, I still dream in clichè.

This topic I thought of when Slicey (of The L Word Online) asked me how, if I claim to never watch teevee, I know so much about pop culture. I thought I could do a list of things I talk about unknowingly -- shows I've seen 0-6 times but still speak of with authority, like Tila Tequila, The Office, Heroes, Sugar Rush etc. The answer is: I read a lot about pop culture and therefore feel like I know more about it than I do, I watched A LOT of television in the mid-nineties, and the shows that I do know, I KNOW -- The L Word, West Wing, Six Feet Under, My So-Called Life, Queer as Folk, Sex and the City, Beverly Hills 90210, Dawson's Creek. Also I'm compulsive and generally watch entire seasons of one show in one weekend via DVD. Also, I watch TV at the gym, that's how I've seen America's Next Top Model and Tila Tequila.

Also: I don't know, really, actually. I just do? It's just that I rarely sit down and watch, though I guess maybe it's just on sometimes. I really don't know.

---

3. What Was Life Like Before _____?

"The more you explore yourself / the more you become unrecognizable."

Let me confess: Tinkerbell was an impulse buy. We debated returning Tinkerbell, due to concerns related to value vs. cost. I'm so glad we trusted the impulse. Cait asked a few days ago, "What was life like before Tinkerbell? I can't remember, what did we do?" I think I generally put words in my friends' mouths, instead of Tinkerbell's. If I wanted to hide something I swallowed a capsule like Maria Full of Grace. JK, there's never anything good in Tinkerbell's purse-pouch. Seriously, never.

*

Even though I was almost always living elsewhere, I still had a room at my Mom's 'til about '02, and the last time I stayed there for long was for about six weeks in the summer of 2000, between living in NYC and moving on to campus at U-Mich. An old friend came over w/a bottle of wine -- a jug, really, and we finished it, and then I hid the empty bottle in this storage bin/headboard which was filled with stuffed animals.

I couldn't put it w/the rest of the recycling. I don't know how I planned to hide it from my mother forever, or what consequences I expected if she'd found it. Sometimes it's hard to remember life pre-21. I guess that's for a lot of reasons. Anyhow, I still do that. I don't know why. Now that I've confessed this, I'll have to stop, 'cause my friends might look in my closet and wonder why there's an empty wine bottle next to the sheets. Then, before they can think about it too hard, they'll be on the ground wondering what large soft object just fell on their head. Srsly don't open the closet.

---

2. Top 10 Most Important Things to The Very Existence of Autowin

"Remember, we are here to help. / What you decide to keep / from the world, tell us."

Stephen Dunn, Tegan & Sara, my Friends, The L Word, Google Reader & Google Docs, the drink, fourfour, bartleby, commenters, Victor & Maureen.

---

1. Lucky Numbers: 3, 11, 21, 31, 41, 43

I've been saving this fortune cookie for the end of this blog. That's the kind of thing I'd make up. But I'm not making this up, actually. I've been tempted to crack it open and see right now for hours, in the same way I was always tempted to watch the next episode of TLW I had on disc but didn't, or -- in a former life, a life more reckless than the one I live now -- to be tempted to do the whole gram at once [but did]. [In the same way that writing that gave me a craving strong enough I'd've fulfilled it, if it was in front of me, with its twenty minutes of oblivion all lined up.]

*
"Some people never have anything except ideas. Go do it"
(Chinese word on the back: WAIT [deng])
*
"We understand everything / we pass it on."
-Stephen Dunn, "The Soul's Agents"
*

¹ This opening paragraph is from the intro paragraph to Don Quijote, but like if it was Mad Libs. I haven't read DQ [see "4"], but I did read the first 300 or so pages, including the introduction, which this is from, so it's not cheating. I don't, for the record, talk about books I haven't read.

I Like Four-Girl VLOGS and I Cannot Lie

First of all ... BTW: WTF?! Moving on: so today I was at the hospital 'cause my friend's sick. She'd just had a flexisomethingsomethingscopy and she'd been moved back to the ER and then, 'cause of some apparently subtle emergency, all us visitors got kicked out of our loved ones' bedsides and back into the depressing waiting room. Probs there was no real emergency, I bet it was someone's birthday and it was cake time and they didn't want me to have any cake. Guess what? I don't want any cake, so whatevs.

Soooo ... I'm in the waiting room on Sparky McMacBook and this twentysomething Orthodox girl sitting across from me says suddenly: "You're a really great typer. Did you take a class?" I tell her no, I've just been typing for a long time. She and her Mom continue staring while I type. THEN the girl fully gets up, crosses rows, sits next to me, leans over and asks: "Can I watch? I want to learn." Can you watch? Can you watch me write email and look at storefront templates? I don't know, can you? Because that would really creep me out. She keeps looking. She's leaning, her breath is on my shoulder, she asks: "Is that e-mail?" and I was like, um, yes, and she asks, "How do you do it? Email? Is it free?" and where do I begin with that? She continues staring, I continue squirming, she asks, is it weird to look, and I say yes, yes, it is and she asks: "Why, this is private?"

Um, look here: you're a complete stranger. Every single thing I've ever done, am doing, or will do, is private as far as you are concerned. Also, I've already got a serious pet peeve about people looking at my computer screen -- people I know. She fully sat there and watched me write an email to Haviland. Then she told me my teeth were really white ("Do you use whitener?"), which isn't true, and eventually my rising boiling wrath must've permeated her consciousness because she wrapped things up, concluding: "Ok, there are your compliments for the day." Then she and her Mom started chatting about me in Hebrew, but the thing is, that's my secret language too, so I get it. Hello, I used to be fluent in Hebrew.

See, this is the kind of stuff you guys are missing out on if by some chance, unlike me, all your friends and loved ones haven't been struck again and again over the past year and especially the past two months by ridiculous-like hard random blows, e.g., deaths of loved ones and illness/injury.

So the other night we made a vlog, mostly for Cait. Lozo was supposed to come but he didn't. (I'm handing that to whomever wants it.)

It was a little weird, 'cause I kinda didn't feel like being a vloggy person. But these crazy bitches just kept talking, I've got approximately 500 hours of footage to mold into genius, this be only the beginning. Here's the first taste, expanded on the "not vlog" from the Top 10. We discuss thrilling things like thongs, boyshorts, bikinis, flying lesbians, drag queens, Lozo, fashions ... and we do our Cait imitation because we miss her.

Don't Be a Meance to West Hollywood While Drinking Your VLOG in the Hood

Since expanding my daily pursuit of weirdohood from just typing words to also editing videos, I've found that video-editing is Just the Thing To Do when I'm tired from a long day of writing/having important groundbreaking thoughts/playing Legos. So that's what I did tonight ... I'm still working on the Year in Review.

Last night Haviland sang in this opera-ish french art-related thing, she was great, I 100% paid attention to all her parts and thought: "Wow, Haviland is great!" It's good to have talented friends, otherwise it can be awkward after their performances to say "You're great," if they're not. Then afterwards we went to a restaurant with reclining comfy chairs for a cast party hooha of some sort. These kind servers could tell we were hungry, esp. Natalie and I, and kept bringing us miniature precisely shaped foods, like mini ceasar salads and these shrimp-on-a-stick-amajabbers. I kept accidentally sticking the stick into my mouth which hurt. Other than that though, it was a really good dinner. I find if someone's bold enough to claim they've fit an entire salad on a palm-sized pastry puff (like a salad for a doll), they usually know what they're doing with the salad itself. I learned this last night. What did you learn last night? Anything? I learned that Heather didn't win America's Next Top Model, but she's Cover Girl of the Week still, which's great, I love Cover Girl eyeliner.

Anyhow, who's excited for Season Five of The L Word? I feel a little bored of it already. Hm. We all realise it's totally not even about the show anymore, right? I mean, it's amazing. Maybe Ilene Chaiken IS a genius. Maybe her genius is precisely that she annoys us all so much that we can't tear our snarky eyes away. It's not as much fun to recap a good show, like I wouldn't want to recap Six Feet Under or West Wing, the two best shows I've ever seen.

Okey dokey, here's a video! We have some outtakes from 'L Word' dramatic readings, but mostly it's just us fucking around. Think of it as a mini-quesadilla for your soul.

Whoever Creates a New Word For VLOG is the Automatic Winner. [JK]

OMG. I just realised we forgot to say "JK" in the vlog [waa], I guess it'll be super organic next time though, you know?

This one's longer. We made it for Lozo, but mainly for ourselves. Perhaps you've noticed: it's speedier for me to write 10,000 nonsense words than it is to bang out 1,000 brill words. It's also speedier to type "brill" rather than "brilliant," and it's all about the bottom line. The word "vlog," p.s., makes me feel like Slimer, it's super-gross.

For this week's vlog, Haviland and I tackle all your questions--not every answer's in the final cut, but don't blame yourself, it's totes us, not always on point, and also, apparently, I kept pronouncing Joe Torre wrong.

Some of the topics covered include Paris Hilton's fantastic album, Susan Powter's voicemail, Thanksgiving, how depressed Riese is that everybody in New York is too skinny for her to fall in love with, the war in Iraq, and how to make Haviland look naked. There's a lot of subtext, too. Very complex. "Meta" as the hipsters with the bangs in their eyes are saying. Ironically. While having their falafel in that shop by the L station after the nerve/onion cocktail mixer. I say cocktails ironically, p.s.

It's Friday night. If we were cool, we'd be out somewhere. I don't know. Wherever the kids are going these days. To eat falafel. No, we're cool. We also went to Ikea today. It felt like Sweden, but with more furniture and less people.

So Ask me Questions, Why am I So Real?

Dear Riese,

I thought your name was Marie.

Yours Truly,
Crispin Glover

Dear CG,

Not anymore, sucker! This all started in 1981 when I was born and my parents named me Clark Kent Marie. My Mom usually called me "Pumpkin-Head" or "Ree-Ree," and one fine day in 1997 at Interlochen Arts Academy, Krista overheard my visiting mother calling me Ree-Ree and began calling me "Ris" which is spelled "Ris" (we had a lot of white-board communication in boarding school) but pronounced "Reese."

Haviland started calling me Ris right from the start. I don't have a lot of friends, so she accounts for like, 50% of my verbal communication with other humans, so I just started using it with all the humans I talk to, because I think it suits me better. I mean, I'm not a "Marie." Marie is so proper, you know?

Also, then I bought a company called 'Riese Restaurants.' I've been chowing down at "Shady Jake's Bar-B-Que N'Booze" for, like, ever-ever because they've got all my fave foods: Carolina Ribs, Pulled Pork AND Baked Beans!¹ But really, it was my love of "TGI Fridays" and "Pizza Hut" that really inspired me to buy the chain. What can I say, it's been a match made in heaven! So then I changed by name to make it easier for those boozehounds from "Tequillaville" to stop calling me "Mami."

Dear Riese,

Since you are clearly a pimp, I would like to ask you this: What do you do when you have a guest in your bed (a boyfriend/girlfriend, or perhaps a new "friend" or someone you are "dating") and you wake up at 2AM and realize your intestines are begging you: "Let us out of here! To the bathroom, soldier! Vomit time!" What is the best way to handle this without totally grossing out my partner?

Yours Truly,
Drunk n' Disorderly

Dear DND,

Funny you should ask, DND, I was in this exact situation last night! Although I hadn't anticipated the upheaval of all the organs of my stomach and the various Eggo waffle-and-topping combos I refer to as "dinner" when I rolled over for sleep, we had already passed into that time of night called "lets be real here, cuddling ain't practical" and therefore my sleeping partner did not even notice my 50 trips to the bathroom. Also, I believe, she had possibly taken some ambien, which I had stolen from my soon-to-be-departed roommate. That brings me to the number one rule of how to deal with this:

1. Drug your Partner.

Which reminds me of another night, in the summer of 2003, when I was somehow like, poisoned or something, and called Scot from the Diag (GO BLUE, Y'ALL!!!) and told him I was losing my mind, and he came over to politely facilitate my night of sickness. Around four A.M, I woke up for another trip to the bathroom to see Scot sitting on the roof, smoking all my pot. Whatever gets you through the night, baby.

Also---and this isn't to say that I'm a drunk, but rather just a girl who often overestimates her stomach's capacity for abuse---after a nerve (dot com) party in November 2005, I got ABSURDLY sick and I was certain that my male guest would FLEE as soon as he was sober enough to leave my apartment. He had a nice resume (Ivy league, artist, rent controlled apartment in the village) and therefore could do better. However, not only did he NOT flee, but he officially overstayed his welcome the next morning AND called me about ten thousand times.

Which just goes to show you--obviously men dig that shit. Damsel in distress, etc.

2. They Dig That Shit.

Dear Riese,

Your friends are HOT. Tell me, exactly, how hot are they?

Yours Truly,
Horny in Idaho

Dear HII,

Here's how hot:
1. Les Miserables, featuring the lovely and talented Haviland Stillwell, opens on Broadway at the Broadhurst Theather on November 8th. You should buy tickets now, because Haviland is HOT. And Norm Lewis will (unintentionally) probably make you cream in your pants. Seriously. He's fucking sexy.
2. Stephanie is the main attraction at this super sexy seductress' fashion designer's website, Bruce Glenn dot com.
3. Our favorite globetrotter, Natalie Raaber, is in town for an exclusive week-long engagement. If you'd like to meet the woman who I have raved about in the past, (June 3rd: 'Natalie is the master of "I feel like", September 17th: 'Natalie Raaber can read coursepacks on the elliptical trainer), then come to her party. This is not an invitation for my stalkers, or for my friends' stalkers (Hav won't be there, stalkers, she's in tech), but rather to all my friends and Natalie's friends.



xo Riese

¹Um, EW. I hate all of those things, especially any meat that resembles the animal it came from, esp. if that animal is a pig. Kosher, y'all!