Star Trek shirts at Hot Topic.

Oh, suddenly it’s cool to like Star Trek?

You know what? You kids get off my lawn or I’ll choke you with some two-year-old butterscotch candies, okay? I liked Star Trek before you were born, damn.*

* People who were born after I started watching Star Trek can now buy cigarettes. Fact.

I never watch the Golden Globes (all awards shows are dead to me after Gwyneth Paltrow beat out CATE BLANCHETT for an Oscar), but I was going to put up some real-time Golden Globe dresses, because there’s nothing I love better than a pretty dress.

Then I caught this lovely sidebar link and got distracted.

Globe Actresses Gifted This $3,650 Compact

I guess I should be grateful they weren’t handing out necklaces, but it seems embarrassing to pay so much for something that looks so ridiculous. Alexis Carrington would take one look at that and be like, “It’s a bit…tacky, no?”

1. Directed by Karl Lagerfeld as a ten-minute advertisement for his clothes. He put it on the “interwebs” to catch the attention of young whippersnappers, apparently! AND IT WORKED.

2. “Who made that horror you’re wearing?”
“Poiret.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”

Okay, this is a seriously catty and awesome fashion history in-joke. Chanel and Poiret were Not Fond of Each Other. (Stay coooooool boys!)

3. I am a sucker for silent films; all the Pre-Code nastiness and ridiculous visual metaphors and long, lingering close-ups of a woman talking for thirty seconds and then a single title card that says: “Until tonight, then.” I love it all. Lagerfeld might as well have projected this movie directly into my heart.

4. All the title cards are in French, with a tiny English subtitle at the very bottom. If you don’t speak conversational French, he doesn’t even want you buying his clothes.

5. The clothes. Oh man. It’s a great collection. Sometimes Chanel falls in love with some random celebrity and the whole line ends up looking like Nicole Kidman or Lindsay Lohan for two years, but sometimes Karl Largerfeld opens the doors of his workshop and it’s like unicorns pooped in there, it’s that great.

6. All the unpleasantness of World War I is neatly condensed into thirty seconds of old news footage that is placed so closely after the near-kiss fade to black that it might as well be a metaphor for sex. Which – is weird, Karl, seriously.

7. Dance scene! There are few things I love more in movies than a dance scene, when all the extras are trying to very casually waltz around and not look directly into the camera.

8. “Come and join us – I’m with the Duke of Winchester, he’s rich and not a poor émigré.” Because Karl wants you to know that no one in any of his movies would EVER have dinner with a poor émigré. Ugh, the poor – how disgusting.

9. The total fizzler of an ending. Oh, Karl, would you end your runway show with a business suit? No! You end it with a wedding dress! Come on, we’ve been over this!

10. “Dmitri, what do you think about Russian Constructivism?”
“Nothing.”
*enormous awkward silence*

Best movie dialogue ever committed to film? You tell me! (Hint: Yes. Yes, it is.)

Part 1:

Part 2:

‘Tis the season for unsolicited mail, and my yearly Barney’s catalog arrived today.

(If you have to ask if I actually buy things from Barney’s, this must be your first time to the blog. I think Target is highway robbery.)

This year’s theme is eco-friendly hippie (which is of course why they’re sending out expensive paper catalogs to people who can’t afford anything), but it means that I got to flip through it and laugh at all the over-size “organic’ sweaters you can just pick up from Goodwill for ten bucks, or buy at Barney’s for $1,695.

But there’s a point where you stop laughing, and that point was page 13.

We’re looking at the necklace on the left. Check out the copy:

That’s $588,235.

And it’s not on the site any more, as someone purchased it already. HAHAHAHAHA for fuck’s sake.

I have a new boyfriend!

I skulked around for a month looking at him, trying to cop a feel when I could, judging if I had room in my life. And I added up all the sad minutes I spent alone this week, just waiting, and knew I had to have him.

Technology continues to tromp ahead without me, by the way – this little guy has twice the hard drive space and memory of my main computer, which was so top of the line when I bought it that I had to uninstall all the NASA applications that came with it.

Now, this thing is lightweight (good to carry around all the time), has a surprisingly comfortable keyboard (which is nice, because I would never have the wherewithal to unfold a keyboard in public without knocking six things over), and has a bright, sharp screen. I know that last thing because I totally stalked some poor woman at the Whole Foods who was watching a movie on it. (Yuppiest sentence I’ve ever written, holy crap.)

ANYWAY, after ten minutes of staring at her down the counter like Mr. Goodbar, I went over and smoothly engaged her in conversation.

G: …IS THAT A NICE COMPUTER?
Her: Please go away.
G: I LIKE YOUR COMPUTER.
Her: I have the cops on speed dial.

With that ringing endorsement, it was time to buy!

Once I bought him, I went home and had a nice bout of buyer’s remorse. I spent the evening watching him charge up and trying to convince myself I hadn’t just bankruped myself for all eternity. I exerted myself – “I LIKE MY COMPUTER” – until I believed it.

And I really do like it, bless its 2-pound heart. I don’t usually name my computers (my other computer is “my computer”, or occasionally “you bastard”), but I sort of had to after all this all-caps emoting.

His name is Fassbender Syndrome. (Jr.)