Sunday, February 28, 2010

Can't wait to see this.




I'm a sucker for documentaries.


HERE.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Wow.







HERE.

It's Thursday, and you know what that means... The New York Times practically writes my post for me. (Thanks, Big T!)

I present to you this Las Vegas treasure in all its glue-gunned glory. You can't really hate this place or these people. PURE LOVE:

Mr. Hart, a singer and composer whose gospel musical, “Sisterella,” counted Michael Jackson among its producers, created all eight bedrooms: the four-poster swags made of bed sheets; the ruched silk ceilings; the gold-leafed armchairs, which he bought 30 years ago for $10 apiece and gold-leafed himself.

“All my family has a black belt in shopping, and we have radar when something is 70 percent off,” Mr. Hart said.

Understood. But why so much?

“I’m just from Texas,” Ms. Hart said. “I like it big.”



And:


On arrival, though, it was clear that informal is something the Harts do not do. A round table had been set in the grand foyer with a printed menu, and red napkins were stuffed into black patent-leather stilettos on each plate. Tiny glass slippers had been hot-glued to the side of wineglasses from the local Dollar Tree store (a precarious gig for the reporter’s slipper, which fell off in her hand). More glass shoes had been glued to a six-foot silver-and-faux-candle candelabra.

Holy shit!

Mr. Hart wrote a song called “Big Hair Gets You Closer to God." I just thought you should know.



More from the article:


Ms. Hart began renting out the house for weddings in the mid-’80s, though she also officiated at Las Vegas chapels. She’s had her share of celebrities but is proud to say she’s always been discreet.

But weddings can be grueling, and disgruntled modern brides, aided by the Internet, vicious. “Totally run-down, tacky fake flowers everywhere, roaches, brought-in food and located in a horrible part of town with no outside ambience,” groused one, under the name travilyaya, on tripadvisor.com, with the heading “Do NOT Do It There.”

That review hurt Ms. Hart horribly — it was “not remotely accurate,” she said. But since she is getting on and is sick of mopping all those floors, she recently put the Hartland Mansion up for sale, for $8.5 million.

Larry, who now runs an events company called Botanica Las Vegas with his partner, Michael Flach, lives in a town house in the suburbs, and Ms. Hart often stays at her condo at the Las Vegas Country Club. The 34-pound bedspread in her grand bedroom at the Hartland Mansion is too heavy for her, she said, and when she does stay there, she sleeps in a workroom littered with bills.

The only family member who still lives at Hartland full time is Garry, in a suite off limits to reporters and reportedly utterly free of pearls.

Fancy.



I am at a questionable hotel, stranded in Pittsburgh due to some flight cancellations. This is my bed. That thing draped near the foot of the bed should be a blanket, right?

IT'S JUST A STRIP OF HEMMED FABRIC. What is this? A dickey? A bed dickey? Seriously? A belt? A sash? A giant eye patch? A tourniquet? Does this have any purpose? Maybe to keep shoe scuffs off of the bed for people who, uh, don't take them off before taking a nap? I don't get it.

Keep it classy, Marriott!

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Disco



Can't stop listening to this. It's so jumpsuit-and-Chloe-Sevigny-with-a-little-coke-on-her-nose.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

A few things to discuss with you:



1. Let's talk about this lamp (image pilfered from HouseBeautiful.com). There's a problem here, right? I don't like it when I can see so much of the... what do you call it? You know what I am talking about. The shade is short. It's like the lamp is wearing clamdiggers or something.

Is there a rule of thumb about this sort of thing?





2. "I like to do this myself at least once a year. Take every last loose piece on every surface — photos, vases, candlesticks, books, magazines — whatever is cluttering up your vision and chances are you no longer even see. Put them on a counter in the kitchen, then redeploy in new arrangements. But only use half of them. Put the rest into a closet for a free shopping spree the next time around." -Jamie Drake

I am totally going to do this. One of these days, anyway.



3. It was sunny today. SUNNY. And warm-ish. First day we mowed the lawn since god knows when. Sun + early cherry blossoms + smell of grass = total bliss.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Did you watch?


Who watched How to Make It in America? (New HBO show produced by Mr. Entourage, Mark Wahlberg.)

HBO will let you watch the first episode on You Tube HERE. (You have to sign in first.)

The music is really good. In order to get suckers like me to talk about the show, HBO is offering up free download of show music HERE, provided you become a "fan" of the show on Facebook. It's worth it. Especially for Alec Blacc's "I Need a Dollar," which is also the theme song for the show.

I liked the show. Gawker does not. (Gawker hates everything, which is sort of its charm...)

The first episode is sort of slow and uneven, but the last 10 minutes started to go, and now that we know what Ben and Cam are up to, I am really excited for episode two.

Let me know what you think of it.

I'm excited to have a new show now that I have officially divorced Lost and The Office.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

This comment just in about the previous post:



Discuss.

In other news, the Canlis cocktail "Our Lady of Thermidor" is hereby renamed "Our Lady of the Raging Hangover."

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Lonny #3. Discuss.




HERE.

Monday, February 8, 2010

New Lonny out on Wed.


...says Michelle. Just FYI.


In other news, I'll be light on posts this week (again). New job and a never-ending painting project have been serving up too many distractions lately.


And for those of you who chimed in on THIS post, thank you so much. The winner is Benjamin Moore's "Simply White." The "cat-lady yellow" is now gone.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Advice.

I came home and overheard the man giving this advice to his son:

"Well, you don't really have the right to look at somebody if they look like they might stab you."