So How About Those Housewives?

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“I’m a deranged BITCH!”

If anyone watched the Real Housewives of Orange County reunion — and I know most of you did — you surely witnessed some of the more embarrassing female behavior from women over 17 since, well, the last episode of The Real Housewives of Orange County. Yes, the claws were out as resident mean girls / blondies / deluded wenches Tamra and Vicki faced the wrath of Bravo viewers and their fellow housewives in one long, uncomfortable, and wonderfully entertaining hour.
We heard some updates about Lynne and her kids and Jeana’s dating life and whatnot, but let’s get to the heart of the matter: those two flaxen bitches sitting on their love seat of ill-repute. Tamra and Vicki were in rare form, being more awful than they normally are (and that’s saying a lot). Vicki tried to don a superior, reasonable attitude as she turned her nose up at things like underage drinking (even though, as my friend Jash pointed out, Vicki brought her underage son a case of beer in college). Of course, her refined character pretty much crumbled when she took every opportunity to take swipes at Lynne, complaining to Andy and the audience that our leathery cuff enthusiast was no angel herself. This was proven slightly when Lynne dissed the blondies by likening them to rocket scientists seconds later, a moment that was both glorious and hilarious. Vicki used that as an example of Lynne’s sharp tongue, but honestly, when you’ve just watched yourself get made fun of on TV for weeks on end, I think Lynne’s entitled to some verbal bitterness here and there.

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ANGRY WHOPPER QUEST: So Close, Yet So Far

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UGH. My quest for a free Angry Whopper has become a drawn out affair, no thanks to Burger King, which seems unwilling to hold up its end of the bargain. After four weeks had gone by since I’d dropped ten friends from Facebook as per the rules of the promotion, I decided to call up Burger King headquarters to find out where the EFF my Angry Whopper was. I spoke to a lovely woman named Wilmarie, who informed me that the mistake would be rectified and that Burger King would be sending me a coupon right away. At last, it seemed like I’d be making headway. I then spent the next seven days furiously checking my mailbox hoping that maybe, just maybe this Angry Whopper saga could be put to an end.
WELL. Today, I was delighted to see an unassuming envelope from Burger King sitting in my mailbox. Ahhhh… sweet, sweet victory. I was so excited that I almost blasted off a mobile “tweet” right then and there to proclaim my joy at having finally received a free Angry Whopper. But then I opened up the envelope, and inside was a generic apology letter — no surprise there — and a coupon for one free… Whopper. Not an Angry Whopper, mind you. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill, emotionally neutral Whopper. Normally, this would be ground for celebration and tears, but alas, I now find myself in a bizarrely awkward situation: should I be grateful for what I have and simply enjoy my free burger in peace? Or should I demand the specific bounty which I am owed? I feel ungrateful for complaining, but I also feel cheated by sitting here quietly. What say you, oh readers from the Internets?
In the meantime, I will try to use the coupon to score the Angry Whopper. After all, “Whopper” might just be an umbrella term, in which case… never mind!
Developing…

HOUSEWIVES PHOTOCAP: More Fun Times In The Hamptons

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Coming off the tension-filled, passive-aggressive romp that was The Real Housewives of Orange County reunion special, I thought the latest episode of The Real Housewives of New York City would be a slight letdown. How wrong I was. It was hilarious as ever with Bethenny tearing up the screen with more one-liners than usual. Jill, meanwhile, was up to her typically Jillish antics (being an unabashed yenta), and Alex and Simon continued to make me wince with their staggeringly pale beach bods (not to mention their dramatic concern about how the Hamptons beach might forever traumatize their St. Barts-acclimated children). We had some fun times with The Countess, who after scolding an audience for talking over a charity presenter, then proceeded to completely talk over said charity presenter moments later. In the Ramona department, we caught a glimpse of her in circa-1993 exercise garb, and aside from some overly bronzed legs, she didn’t appear too incredibly different. Not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. And then we had Kelly, who made a brief, boring cameo appearance in the show, which served no real purpose beyond perhaps reminding us that she does exist and that yes, even models are prone to intense facial sunburn.
Amidst all the usual craziness, we also witnessed a rather poignant scene between Bethenny and Jill’s mother (who reminds me of about ten or fifteen women in my extended family). The family matriarch gave Bethenny some sage advice and then promised to take the lovelorn natural foods chef under her wing in an effort to be the mother Bethenny never seemed to have. It was surprisingly touching, even if it was a bit heavy conversation for BREAKFAST.
Anyway, I would go on about the episode, but I must be off to get my hair cut. Photocap after the jump…

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Oscar Cake!!

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As you all know, I’m a huge fan of my friend Mark and Leslie’s cakes (they run the bakery Mark Joseph Cakes). They are most famous on this site for their R2D2 Cake, which still draws two hundred new readers a day, and now Mark has sent me this photo of an Oscar cake he made this weekend. It looks awesome. If you’re interested in a similar cake (or a wedding cake or a birthday cake or just a cake in general — who wouldn’t want that?), be sure to check out their website and give Mark and Leslie a call. Tell them I sent you!

Follow Me On Twitter!

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I have at last given in to the vast cyber world that is Twitter. I’d resisted — for no real reason — for the past two years, but finally, enough was enough. I set up a Twitter account for me/this blog, and now I’m up and running! I plan to update frequently; so be sure to sign up as a follower. That sounds mildly cultish, doesn’t it? BE MY FOLLOWER. FOLLOW ME.
Anyway, for those of you who like to be two places at once, I’ve added a handy widget on my sidebar to the right a handy status update-esque header that shows my latest “tweets.” (btw, for those of you who’ve had issues with the ads encroaching on text and pictures, I made an adjustment in my stylesheet, but I don’t know if it’s helped or not since I can’t see the problem on my computer. Please let me know if it’s fixed — fingers crossed). Anyway, back to Twitter. I have three simple goals with this new endeavor. A) I want to amass a large army of followers to feed my ego and more importantly to drive traffic to this blog and in turn generate more ad revenue. So far I’m at twenty followers. I’d be psyched to get up to about a thousand. B) I’d like to attract a celebrity as a follower. I’m thinking Demi Moore because she Twitters rabidly and has revealed herself to be a total blogger-type, but I’d be equally happy with Shia LaBoeuf, Gerard Butler, or really anyone. It’s a very superficial goal, but it would give my site more clout, and I’d have tremendous bragging rites (although, I guess with statements like that, no celeb will want to touch me with a ten foot pole). I forget what my third goal is, but I’m sure it’ll come to me, and then I’ll tweet about it, and we can all chuckle about it (and by “we,” I mean me and Demi Moore and Shia LaBeouf, my future followers).
To check out my Twitter feed and to sign up as a follower, click here.

B-Side Blog Takes You Inside The Oscars

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One of the many perks of my new apartment is that I’m just a few blocks away from the Kodak Theatre, the famed venue where the Oscars have been staged for the past five or six years. In honor of my easy access to the festivities, I decided to take a jaunt down to Hollywood Boulevard to snap some oh-so-touristy photos. The results of my adventure after the jump…

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MISADVENTURES IN DOMESTICITY: Failed Pita Chip Edition

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Oops. I accidentally caused a minor conflagration in my toaster oven today when I took my eyes off some would-be pita chips for just a tad too long. Luckily, I’ve been classically trained in such emergency situations, and I knew to simply unplug the toaster oven and just sit there while the fire raged on quietly, destroying what could have been a wonderful display of pita goodness. It was a rare display of calm by me, as I’ve been prone to get all sorts of cowardly in the face of impromptu fires (and yes, I made sure to have my flour handy just in case things got out of hand). The good news is that aside from some dark residue on the oven door, there didn’t seem to be much by way of damage. Nevertheless, this is an unfortunate blight on what was otherwise quite a perfect batch of pita chips.
To see the pita chips post-inferno, click ahead…

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Thanks For The Memories, Conan

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Interning back in the day: December 1998

In case you haven’t been following the shifting landscape of late night television, tonight marks the last episode of Late Night with Conan O’Brien. The good news is that Conan will be moving up to the Tonight Show later this year, and technically, Late Night as a show will motor on — except now with host Jimmy Fallon behind the desk. Many people suspect that with the move to the earlier time slot, some of Conan’s trademark humor (Masturbating Bear, etc) might wind up cut from his show. I don’t know if this is true or not, but I think it is safe to say that there will probably be a slightly different flavor to the proceedings, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it does mark the end of a late night era. It’s an era, I’m proud to say, that I participated in for a few months ten years ago.
Back in the summer of ’98 (and again in December of that year) I served as an intern on Late Night with Conan O’Brien, and the experience, to sum it up in one word, was amazing. To this day, it pretty much remains the most amazing job I’ve ever had. Sure, I’ve had great work experiences, but nothing can compare to the excitement, the insanity, and the general sensory overload of working on a show like Late Night and in a place like 30 Rock.

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Another Great Facebook Meme!

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Just last week, I wrote about a fun Facebook meme that parlayed search results on Google into hilarity for all. Laughter was had, tears were shed, and much tagging ensued. A few more memes have come and gone since then, and while they’ve been amusing, they’ve failed to reach the highs of that original “Google Game.” Until today.
My friend Jash — who’s been getting mentioned quite a bit on this blog (get back in the game, IndianJones) — sent me a meme called “My Band Album.” It requires a bit of work on the user’s part (Photoshop or a graphics application is required), but the end result is fantastic. Basically, users must look up a random Wikipedia entry — this becomes your “band name.” Then they must look up a random quote, and this becomes the “album name.” Lastly, users then must find a random Flickr photo, which becomes the band’s artwork. Put it all together, and bam! You have instant fun. And yes, that’s my band at the top of this post.
For specific rules, follow the story after the jump. Make your own pic and enjoy. Feel free to send me your images, and I’ll post a retrospective next week.
And remember you can become a fan of B-Side Blog on Facebook by clicking here.

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NYC HOUSEWIVES PHOTOCAP: Fights, Frenemies, and Fabric in the Hamptons

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Anyone else still recovering from the two back-to-back Real Housewives episodes last night? Bravo provided us quite the anthropological spectrum as we moved from the gaudy materialism of Orange County to the somewhat more refined but no less catty drama of the Hamptons. Watching the two back to back, some glaring difference came to the fore. First, the Real Housewives of New York City is a shockingly different beast. Whereas the OC ladies exist in their own tacky vacuum, there really is a sense with the New Yorkers that they do operate in some sort of greater social context. They attend parties, they concern themselves with etiquette, and they communicate through Cindy Adams. That’s why their garish behavior is all the more entertaining: it clashes mightily with the behavior one would expect from their socioeconomic circles. And that’s half the fun.
Coming into season two, all the women seemed more or less the same. Alex managed to spiff up her house a little (not to mention her notoriously stringy hair). Jill continued to cluck around like the Mother Hen that she is. LuAnn still engages in a haughty laugh (with an accompanying hand on the shoulder) to smooth over any awkward moments or off-color remarks. Bethenny still talks a mile a minute with every word being just as juicy as the next. And Ramona… well, she’s still Ramona. Every time she spins onto the screen I laugh. And yes, she literally spins onto the screen. Like every other housewife in the franchise, Ramona twirls into view when we switch to her storyline, but unlike every other housewife, she seems to actually lose balance — almost as if she just spent the past forty-five minutes riding the Teacups in Disneyland. It’s only appropriate, really, as “balanced” is not a word that I would often use with Ramona.
Of course, we also had our new housewife, the glamorous Kelly Killoren Bensimone — a former model and current socialite who has the bizarre appearance of looking both old and young at exactly the same time. She didn’t really bring much to the table last night beyond a passing interest in piggyback rides and babbling about equestrian. When Ramona cornered her at Jill’s charity event, I thought we’d surely be in for a total disaster, but nothing really happened. According to the previews, it looks like Kelly and Bethenny will be getting into it, but then again, I don’t put it past Bravo to take a non-event out of context for the sake of drawing in viewers.
Overall, I enjoyed the premiere episode greatly. Normally, I’d spend some time talking about Jill and Alex’s catty tiff (and then I’d spend even more time talking about the Van Kampen’s strange rental property), but I sadly am lacking the energy. Instead, I’m just going to restate my favorite line of the night as Jill screamed at her audience: “FABRIC! FABRIC! FABRIC!!!” Ah, it’s great to have the ladies back. Onto the photocap…

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