Saturday, April 5, 2008


This little blog of ours has hit over 20,000 views.

Thanks to all our readers, and the few of you who comment (hint: WE CAN HAZ MOR COMENTZ PLZ?) for helping us keep this thing above ground.

And now, while Josh is chanting Hebrew in New Jersey, here's a little video for your enjoyment:


Why Britney will never be Christina

Their lives began as parallels: blonde nymphs in the Disney cult hit The Mickey Mouse Club, a kind of kid's musical variety show aimed at preteens with little interest in Mickey himself, and a whole lot of interest in Justin Timberlake's dreamy eyes.

They both scored recording contracts in the name of Bubble Gum Pop; they were the new front girls for a genre of music that was to possess the nation and its youth with raunch masked as sweetness.

But that's where their paths diverged.

There's no doubt that Britney is the more famous of the two; she's had more hit records, and is way more of a paparazzi and tabloid target than Christina. But she's also the craziest, the most loved-but-hated: the one who gets in trouble with the law and feeds her kids Cheeto's and shaves her head and goes to gas stations barefoot. Britney's reputation has been forever tarnished by a slew of unnecessary events that signal some kind of mental collapse. Was she always prone to this kind of behavior, or was it the pressure of constantly being in the spotlight that caused her to deteriorate? And why hasn't Christina been crippled in the same way?

I'll tell you why. Because Christina always embraced the fact that she was dirty, while Britney was cast as a stunted little girl, a virgin, a madonna. Sure, the "Baby One More Time" video was a little sex-kittenesque, and she always did have an affection for belly shirts and body glitter. But we have to remember how she was marketed. She was the Hannah Montana of 1998. The good girl, the southerner, the Christian, the virgin: she was supposed to be all of these things, as symbolized by the shy, reluctant sexuality in songs like "Sometimes."

Christina was always upfront about her sexuality. She was the whore to Britney's madonna. Everyone knew Christina was raunchy, even before she released "Dirrty." The truth is, it didn't even matter that Britney frequently and chronically lip-synched, while Christina had the pipes of a goddess. Christina was the poor man's Britney, but at least she had no delusions about it.

So what happened when Britney grew up, threw off the shackles of her branding and decided to show the world that she wasn't a little girl anymore? That she had previously been "Overprotected," and was now ready to break free?

Well, she went a little crazy. Hello identity crisis. While Christina married and had a baby and continued to release hit records and grew into a classier version of herself, Britney spiraled downhill, feeding off the paparazzi, marrying and divorcing, then losing custody of her children. She could not reconcile between what the industry had branded her as and what she really was. She had lied to us all, and now, like karmic clockwork, it was coming back to haunt her.

Because it was Christina who had an oiled-up girlfight in a wrestling ring, and as hard as Britney tried, she couldn't top that. We still saw her as America's Sweetheart, even when she was flashing her vag all over Hollywood. The public's refusal to see her as the new Britney, coupled with her inability to understand why we couldn't just accept that she was grown up and sexual now, eroded at her image until she became this thing: this paparazzi hungry, mildly overweight, umbrella-wielding, non-singing/non-dancing thing.

And Christina, while still raunchy, cleaned up her act with a baby and a little red lipstick. But Britney was too far gone; if she had made a "comeback" at the VMA's, as slotted to, we would have accepted her back into our hearts. But still as the Old Britney. The one we remembered fondly, with whimsy, and sometimes perhaps, in the dark of night while driving along those back roads listening to her Greatest Hits Album, we shed a single, lovely tear for.


I just got done Googling myself

And there is apparently someone out there with my same name, age and affection for weed.

Only this (Canadian) Jessica Roy's love of herb resulted in her arrest. Because she was growing it. And dealing it. And the guy she got arrested with sounds super sketch. Is his last name really "Whynot?" It sounds like a fake name to me. Canadian police better check their records.

I really hope future employers don't google me and think I'm some gun-wielding drug dealer. Actually, I hope they do. I've secretly always wanted to be Canadian...


Thursday, April 3, 2008

Oh So I Was Totally Wrong

As it turns out, my paper isn't due by midnight tonight but by Tuesday. Since I've already written half the damn thing, I am absolutely not compelled to finish it now.

What can I do instead? Well, I'll probably go out and get crunk later. In the meantime, am I really above creating a profile on this, NYU's answer to (Or, since this is New York, JDate.)



Jess Will Once Again Be Doing Most of the Work on this Blog for a Few Days

Tonight I've got a huge paper to write, and any forms of procrastination that I will employ will definitely not involve more writing.

Then tomorrow I'm back to Jersey for my brother's Bar Mitzvah! I won't link you to his Myspace page, but his background is Oprah and his picture features him making this face--that's all you need to know.

See ya Sunday.


H&M: Like the boys

Fresh off the press from Women's Wear Daily: Comme Des Garcons, a line known best for its avant-garde pieces (think bold colors, structured jackets, ruffled skirts and useless-but-pretty strips of fabric) is doing a line for Swedish discount retail store (and my personal favorite) H&M. Perhaps to assuage the colossal failure of the Miami-meets-Mariah Carey Roberto Cavalli line, the CDG line is sure to combine ready to wear with high fashion couture to make breezy pieces with a dark edge, with, as always, a keen emphasis on shape and structure.

Here are some of my favorite pieces from their recent Fall 2008 show:


Wednesday, April 2, 2008

A little treat

Here's the story: we wanted to come up with a video for J&J, but we were tired and lazy, so we decided to read part of a scene from Hamlet because we think shit like that is sooo funny. Also, we secretly want to forsake our writing and join a theat-ah troupe. With mimes!

Anyway, we hope you think we're as funny as we do.

P.S. I decided to use Vimeo because I figured it had less users than Youtube. It had nothing to do with Jakob Lodwick. But I'd also like to point out the video took 2 hours to upload, 25 minutes in line for it to "convert," 20 minutes to "convert," and 10 minutes to actually appear on the site. So I think I'll stick with Youtube next time, especially since IMovie '08 has a special uploader just for Youtube.

Here's the story: we wanted to come up with a video for J&J, but we were tired and lazy, so we decided to read part of a scene from Hamlet because we think shit like that is sooo funny. Also, we secretly want to forsake our writing and join a theat-ah troupe. With mimes!

Anyway, hopefully you find us as funny as we apparently find ourselves.

P.S. I decided to use Vimeo because I figured it had less users than Youtube. It had nothing to do with Jakob Lodwick. But I'd also like to point out the video took 2 hours to upload, 25 minutes in line for it to "convert," 20 minutes to "convert," and 10 minutes to actually appear on the site. So I think I'll stick with Youtube next time, especially since IMovie '08 has a special uploader just for Youtube.

Faking narcolepsy

My co-worker Julie is probably not narcolpetic, but she certainly acts it. Once she fell asleep at a London intersection while waiting for the stoplight to change. She frequently dozes off at her computer, only to be woken up by the clanging of the Alumni Office telephone. She told me today that she googled narcolepsy, and that one of the cures for it is to discuss with your employer your medical condition, and by law, they have to provide you with a place to sleep for at least one hour each day in order to curb your sleepy symptoms.

So my question is: how do I fake narcolepsy?

Not to minimize the disorder; I'm sure it's actually a really terrible thing to have to endure. But wouldn't we all benefit from a naptime? And isn't it ironic that in pre-school, when you'd much rather continue your session on the jungle gym (hanging upside down so the boys can see your underwear was definitely my favorite time of the afternoon), you have an allocated naptime; and then in the real world, after lunch when you lapse into a food coma and really just need an hour or so to shut down, we have to force ourselves to stay awake until we get home at night.

But the problem is that when I get home I'm fully awake again. I am only really tired until midday, and after that I wake up and end up not going to sleep that night until 1-3 a.m. Then the next morning, I'm fucking exhausted. And so the animal eats its tail.

A universal naptime would totally solve all this. I propose every office have a room padded with pillows and mattresses, soft lighting, calming music (Perhaps jungle sounds? Rainwater?) and a no-cell phone policy that would create a relaxing atmosphere for workers to enjoy one hour a day (in addition to their lunch breaks, of course!). You could even schedule that hour so that there were still people working at all times. If I ever own my own company this is totally the first thing I'm putting in the contract: mandatory naptime.

Siesta, anyone?


23/6 is funny 24/7

As if to read my mind about that bitch Chels, 23/6 has instituted a magic 8-ball to help us navigate rude answers she would venemously spew at us if we were to ask about Monica "spit-not-swallow" Lewinsky. Check that shit out here.


P.S. Thanks to Matt for the link!

EDIT: I just got home to my lovely Macbook where I don't have to install all these Active-X controls to have the 8-ball work, and asked it this question:

Doesn't it bother you that Monica didn't swallow? That's just bad etiquette.
Its answer: Everybody down-- sniper!
Damn-- this shit's accurate!

Spell Checker Can't Do All Your Work For You

I was reading a short article on Barack Obama's opinion of Al Gore when I came across the paragraph, which has managed to make me doubt the journalistic integrity of the Associated Press:

"Gore, who's work on climate change earned him a Nobel Prize, he is popular among Democrats."

Are you kidding me? Shame on you, Devlin Barrett. "Who's" does not equal "whose," and that "he" is unnecessary and suggests that you already edited this last paragraph so much that even you lost track.

Mistakes like these not only call into question the veracity of the entire article, but also take the reader out of the story. What I'll remember from this piece isn't what Obama said but how much Barrett messed up.

Also, don't they have editors for this crap?


Update time

The lovely folks over at NYU Inc. did a post about my meeting with J. Sex. Read it here.

My mom also posted about it on her professional blog, The Bamboo Project. Read that here.

In other completely unrelated news, I just put some milk in my coffee that I think was maybe spoiled? I don't know, it said sell by April 13th which is fine, but it smelled a little funky and it kind of looked like there were maybe pieces in it? But I noticed AFTER I poured it into my coffee and I wasn't going to make a whole 'nother pot... so... if I'm violently ill by mid-morning, that'll be the reason.


Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Because you can really never do enough posts about mustaches

Hillary Clinton: Still not funny

It's amazing how humorless Hillz is, even when telling a (shitty) joke. Let's be honest, the reason Bush got "elected" is because he has a cute smile and can make the people laugh. With her cold demeanor and inability to even crack a smile on April Fool's Day of all days, Hillary proves she is still just plain unlikeable. It comes off forced, contrived; you can almost see her speech writer whispering in her earpiece while she reads: "Go on, Hillary! Make 'em laugh. You need to warm up your bitchy facade. This'll really... bowl them over!"


Joke's on me

So now you guys know my Gawker commenter name, which is like every New Yorker's deepest secret...

The ladies over at Jezebel are certainly in a jovial mood today.

I admit, when I read the very first post about Gawker Media tycoon Nick Denton turning over my favorite site to the claws of the evil Conde Nast(y), I totally bought it. I got a little misty and bitched to my roommate about it while applying makeup this morning. This text exchange even occurred:

JESS: OMG! nick denton sold jezebel to conde nasty! my world is crumbling
DAVID: ahh are you serious? why??
JESS: i don't know but i'm so upset. the amount of snark is about to drop tremendously. denton is such a greedy fuck.

But then came the myriad of posts, introducing people like Steeny Taylor-Wood, and quotes like this:

We hope that by taking the more veteran Jezebels out of their sweatpants and small studio apartments, they will be able to express their creativity and femininity in ways we haven't seen before. (I've always felt that sloppy dressing equals sloppy thinking.)

A quick read through comments on posts about the move both on Gawker and Jezebel revealed that I'm a gullible loserpants. But this really is an elaborate April Fool's joke. They even changed the masthead to read Conde Nast's Jezebel and all the links at the bottom to gross CN publications like

Let's just say this has made me realize how thankful I am for women like Moe and Tracie, who aren't afraid to bitch and get stoned and say what real women think, not just talk about the most chic spring accessories every societal mouth breather should own.


No, you're making yourself cry

I have to admit that my favorite thing about The Hills experience is blogging about it and reading what other media sites have to say about the show. In this way, I watch each episode carefully, keeping in mind that every ridiculous thing that comes out of Heidi's mouth will most likely end up a Gawker headline. It fills me with so much glee!

Last night was a double feature, so I settled in with some mango sorbet and Dhani and David at my side for my favorite hour of the week. Here are my observations:

1. Did anyone else notice that Lauren's hair looked like shit the entire time? It was this strange combination of greasy and frizzy, and it was always pulled back into a ponytail! What happened to the shiny curls? L.C., please lay off the straightening iron, you're beginning to look like all those girls from my high school with flattened manes and little staticky wisps sticking out at the top.

2. Stephanie Pratt is a superbitch, and I totally love her for it. She is such a two-faced manipsnape! She shit talks her own brother to his arch enemy! I totes lol'ed when she was dining with Spence in her "apartment" and started calling him "so homeless and so lame." God love Stephanie meth face. Without her, the show would be all blank stares and cocktails.

3. Lauren is an immature brat. Brody clearly has a thing for her and she sweeps him aside in the name of perpetuating drama for her reality show. Can these two just get married please? I really want to see L.C. become the Kardashians' sister-in-law. Actually, I really can't imagine anything greater than that.

4. Whitney is one of the only normal people on this show, and I am so happy for her that she's leaving the dregs of Teen Vogue behind to become a stylist. The best part was when the producers made the owner of People's Revolution look all serious and go, "You're basically making a deal with the devil." Poor Whit looked like she was going to cry. Good choice on the leather leggings, though. V. Becks would be oh so proud.

5. Lo continues to be my favorite character on the show. She is totally a feminist role model; when Lauren sinks into a Sex and the City-esque depression over one guy or another, Lo reminds her to buck up, and that guys should be so lucky to date someone as pretty and vapid as her. Even people with lattes and ugly cotton basics where their hearts should be deserve self-confidence.


Not Even An April Fool's Joke

This morning on my Comcast News, I saw the strangest headline ever: "Woody Allen Sues American Apparel."

Apparently, AA never asked Allen permission to use the above film still from Annie Hall for their latest billboard.



UPDATE: Jess's note: NYC probably should have gotten Woody's permission to name the street Allen, as well.

Monday, March 31, 2008

The Washington Square News reads my mind for once

I'm happy to say that NYU's newspaper, the Washington Square News, released an editorial today in light of NYU's drop in The Princeton Review's dream school rankings from #1 to #4. NYU now trails behind Harvard, Stanford and Princeton. Perhaps partly to blame is NYU's price tag, which President John Sexton so rudely and eagerly dismissed me for asking about last week. All three of the schools that now trump NYU in the poll started financial aid initiatives last year geared towards making private school educations more affordable for working class students. NYU has done nothing to quell the pain of students like me completely entrenched in debt, and instead has decided to look beyond us, to their 2031 project, which the WSN aptly calls "obsessive:"

NYU is obsessed with its 2031 plan and, consequently, with its plan to become a global university. But how do branch campuses abroad, and the subsequent expansion of the NYU brand, help students in the here and now? Is the gamble really worth it?

I called President Sexton tonight and left a voicemail with his office asking if he would take a meeting with me. I usually hate the shit WSN produces, but my feeling is that they're spot on with this editorial. This is a pertinent and delicate issue, and one that we shouldn't allow figureheads like Sexton to avoid. I'm going broke to pay for this school, and people want to choose preppy, white collar douche bag factories like Princeton over NYU? Oh, fuck no!

And if he doesn't take the meeting? I know tons of news sources that would jump at the chance to play their part in watching Sexton eat his words.


Radar gets right what the NY Times can't


See here.


An open letter

Dear girl at my work who sings "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics off-key thirteen times a day,

You are a douche bag.


Today in New York Times Circlejerks

The NYTimes Books section is probably the most self-referential obnoxious piece of pretentious garbage to ever make its way into a newspaper. Think I'm exaggerating? Read this article.

Or, if the headline causes vomit to form in the back of your throat, just skim this clip:

Pity the would-be Romeo who earnestly confesses middlebrow tastes: sometimes, it’s the Howard Roark problem as much as the Pushkin one. “I did have to break up with one guy because he was very keen on Ayn Rand,” said Laura Miller, a book critic for Salon.

While similar tastes are important to a relationship, including literary tastes, you're a dumb fuck if you're so picky as to refuse to date a guy because he likes Atlas Shrugged. Have you SEEN the New York dating pool recently? Because I have, and as long as a guy can read ANYTHING, as in, he's not illiterate and speaks some form of English, he's okay in my book. (Pun!!1)

As Jezebel points out, the greatest part about this article is that it's on the list for Top Most Emailed Articles. What kind of pathetic, pretentious assholes are e-mailing this article, nodding their heads in unison and going, "I'm so glad I dumped that Jonathan Safran Foer enthusiast?" Oh, right: the kind of people who read The New York Times Books section.


Jess got a haircut and David is mentally challenged

That's all.


Sunday, March 30, 2008

Facebook: Creating, aiding and abetting stalkers everywhere

Hey! Did you notice that new thing on Facebook? It's called People You May Know and it was invented because Facebook didn't think it was creepy enough yet!

The problem with PYMK is that I do know all of them; and I didn't friend them for a reason! Most of them went to my high school, and it would be awkward to friend any one of them (which is probably why I have yet to do so).

Now I know when I get a friend request from that American Eagle model I drunkenly hooked up with in 10th grade, that it's not because he remembers me and thinks I'm even hotter now and wants to date me... it's just because we have a lot of mutual friends, and Facebook is trying to force a relationship that is just stale, clumsy, incongruous. :'(


In case you didn't know we're dumb

We are:

JOSH: post is up, btw
JOSH: i just can't believe this. the abstinence story is ridic too.
JESS: i love how you begin the post with that story and take the most frivolous thing out of it. it totally shows the ineffectiveness of abstinence literature.
JOSH: ohh i like that. good analysis, reverend jessica roy.
JESS: thank you paul.
JOSH: np joan
JESS: you're such a good friend, lemony snickett.
JOSH: you're such a good friend, bruce.
JESS: thanks mr. magorium
JESS: and thanks to your wonder emporium too.
JOSH: np mr. holland, tell your opus i say hi.
JESS: LOL i'm laughing so hard right now
JOSH: me too. oh, patrice o'neal. the fun times we share.
JESS: you know it, serena williams.
JOSH: i've been cracking up for the past few minutes; my neighbors probably think i'm crazy, solange knowles
JESS: LOL same mister magoo

The Corporations Are, Like, Totes Taking over

My friend Jacob showed me this. It's some stupid religious pro-abstinence thing. That's not the point.

At one moment in the story, the teacher announces that there are doughnuts available in the back of the classroom. Only the story doesn't say "doughnut," it says "donut." As in, Dunkin' Donuts. As in, totally wrong. So I thought.

I checked my trusty Mac Dictionary only to discover that BOTH spellings are technically allowed. Dunkin' Donuts has become such a prevalent (and delicious) part of our culture that it has actually changed the spelling of an English word. Thanks, Dunkin' Donuts, for inserting yourself into the American lexicon.

Then, to my horror, as I was typing up this entry, I noticed a red squiggle beneath the word "doughnut." Oh no, I thought. Surely Blogger doesn't mean...

But it did. Blogger only recognizes the corporate spelling: d-o-n-u-t. I'm not joking--try it yourself.

What does this say about our culture? That a brand can gain so much influence, and that people can be so lazy, that a pretty simple English word has to be shortened astounds me. Now when I'm on AIM I use my share of "ttyl"s and "tonite"s, but that's in a chat, and it's not like people in real life say "Insert smiley face" when they have to cancel plans anyway. There's a distinction between what happens on AIM and what happens in the rest of the world. But when a reputable dictionary recognizes "donut" as a correct variant of "doughnut," well, that says something about our society.

It also says that I really, really want doughnuts now. Donuts. W/e.


Change is hard

A few of you have remarked on the fact that I changed the comments from appearing on the page to appearing in a cute little box.

Fear not! If you really want to see the comments on the page, just click on the post itself and voila! There they are! No little box to separate us. But you should all really consider learning how to cope with change. Seriously.

To (pretentiously) quote Arcade Fire: I guess we'll just have to adjust.


Boys Beware!

Okay, so this has been written about on the Internet before, but obviously I felt the need to say something. And by "say something" I mean "list funny things about it."

1. Apparently, it's totally fine to hitchhike. Like, God forbid a dude is into another dude, but little kids getting rides from strangers on their way home from baseball practice is perfectly safe.
2. Apparently, all homosexuals are creepy John Waters doppelgängers that wear sunglasses all the time.
3. Apparently, all homosexuals are also child molesters.
4. Apparently, all homosexuals make love in shady motel rooms instead of their own houses.
5. Apparently, you know, homosexuality is evil.


Down with the Carrie Bradshaw Paradigm

This is the dumbest article I've ever read in my life (that's not in WSN).

I know that the Sex and the City Movie is coming out this summer, and everyone from young, chic New Yorkers to frumpy middle-aged midwesterners are biting their lips with excitement.

But can we please stop comparing every successful, beautiful woman to Carrie Bradshaw?

It's frightening, really, that the paradigm of success for a woman is based off of an HBO romantic comedy.

Don't get me wrong, SATC is one of my favorite shows. I just don't follow it like a Bible. I aspire to have Carrie's job and wealth and okay yeah Mr. Big. But I don't aspire to be Carrie.

And frankly, I think it's sad that Julia Allison does. She should aspire to be so much more than her Carrie counterpart, who stands as a vague, 2D shadow of a real person.

It should be said that a lot of media outlets have a problem with Allison. I don't hate her, but there is something remarkably unlikeable about her, though she does have that breed of self-confidence most girls would kill for. What happened to her with Jakob Lodwick was kind of unfortunate, but she did bring it on herself.

That said, I don't think it's fair to compare her success to a fictional character. That's sweeping it under the rug and attributing all her hard work to a series of circumstances akin to what befell Carrie herself (running into that Vogue editor, having her book optioned, etc). And I don't really get why she would do it to herself, either. Get with it, girl! We are so much better than vagina monsters and frizzy hair.


I don't give a fuck

"This slime tastes like Calysta Flockhart's pussy"

Do you know who I really don't care about?


I hate them so much. I hate their fucking combined name. I hate that the media is obsessed with them. They're hot and they have 890432 kids but I really couldn't care less.

The media
is all "Are they married? Are they not?"


Fucking Harrison Ford got SLIMED! This is news people. Not the marriage of people who pretend not to care about the media then whore their babies out to the highest bidder. Thank you.


Q: What's funnier than a dog named Zackle on a spiral staircase?

A: Nothing.