Reblogging Julia

Feliz Nuevo Ano

Christ, a new year and yet, we are still here.  Parsing the stupidity.  It kind of feels like recapping American Idol, doesn’t it?  We all know how this works out - the most packaged person wins, except they don’t, and are never heard from again until the VH-1 special about one hit wonders hits the airwaves. 

Confession - I have started to love Mary.  It may be Stockholm Syndrome (I write that with the confidence that she has no idea what that means and may name a terrible bag after it), but I think she finally realized that she can either be in on the joke or laugh at it.  My editor has disowned me upon this realization, so forgive the grammar and spelling errors.

Okay, what do you need to know about The Trio of Banality?  I’ll give you the low points, bulleted and ribbed for your pleasure:

• Meghan:  Still Cheerios, with a little too much sugar.  Why the naturally hottest girl hasn’t found her groove yet, only Stella knows.  She, like the others, is at CES, although for her, this is kind of akin to Napoleon Dynamite going to a dance competition.  She is very web 1.0, but damn if she doesn’t look good blogging it. 
• Mary:  Oh, the sweet virgin Mary.  She went on a cruise, blogged about it, railed against the haters who begrudged her that moment in the sun (then retracted it), worked out and blogged about it (lest you think her slothy, or worse, fat), admitted she was dining on someone else’s dime, took a few pot shots at JA (who is clearly not tight with her own mother), then came back and vowed to “see you on the scales.”  The elusive Leven didn’t make the guest list, sadly, but Mary has a nice Gwyneth haircut and a determination to best JA at her own cover game. 
• JA:  Still nothing here.  JA doesn’t play well with others, and in the trio, she comes off like the shrill Midwestern tourist, among a trio of NY fannypack fangirls.  She made a laundry list of resolutions, which I suspect were plagiarized from her 2008 resolutions (she is cunning like that), posted a manifesto of “I WAS ONCE BULIMIC AND THAT IS WHY I CAN CONTINUE TO HATE MYSELF,”and clearly didn’t resolve to lose the tranny makeup or wardrobe.  She called Mary a bitch, claiming that bitch blogging was noble, and thereby solidifying her role as the chick at the party that you recognize, but don’t want to be associated with.  There were, of course, a host of old pics of her, from happier days, plus a few fake emails purporting to attack her on her weight.  Folks, if you don’t do it, no one else will, and then she will go all James Frey on your non-commenting asses.

Merry Festivus

Given all that we have been through, I have to believe that none of you are still actually reading the collective musings of Our Lady of Introspection and her Handmaidens.  They jumped the shark, the couch, and anything else they could name drop on their way to another photoshoot for another publication you have never heard of and will never buy. 

Starting any personality-based business is difficult, particularly when Nick Douglas is your business advisor.  Now try to imagine if you are the trio of a funhouse of mirrors featuring Poltergeist clowns.  There may be a few moments of horror and funny, but mostly, you just want to put your hand over all it it and gently whisper “this will only take a few seconds.”  It isn’t that they just don’t get that they are the punchline of the joke.  It is that they think their punchlines have value in any economy.

In the spirit of the holidays, however, I will give you the last rites of Our Trio of Banality.  The end is surely nigh, and should old acquaintances be forgot, the world would be a much better place. 

Meghan:  The Handmaiden of Tragic Rebounds — Meghan, I like you like I like Cheerios.  There’s nothing offensive or mouth jarring about Cheerios (unlike, say, the suit-o PINKISH elements of Captain Crunch).  Hell, sometimes, Cheerios is perfectly fine on an early morning. 

But Meghan?  You are curiously outplayed by your underclasswomen.  This was a bad idea.  You know it, I know it, and your family, readers and future employers know it.   Look, you are no rocket scientist in the tech OR finance fields, but you are likable and pretty and don’t look like a tranny Midwestern news anchor on camera.  In your newly chosen field, I think you have to score these in the win column and discover your own identity, preferably one that doesn’t involve the social climbing aims of a self-avowed attention whore or a waiting in the wings second Texas trophy wife.    They are in your spelling league, and that is about it.

Mary:  The Handmaiden of Passive Aggression— Mary, you surprised me as the almost likable one of the group.  Your willingness to make a complete ass out of yourself - albeit unwittingly - combined with your obvious recognition of the ridiculousness of the Julia Allison character?  Hell, I almost want to buy you a lip shot. 

You wear your superficialness on your sleeve, and I am confident that your first gay husband will really appreciate that.   You have been playing second fiddle for so long, what with the “she’s not my sister” crap with Leven, to indulging the ridiculously emotionally challenged Lady of Introspection.  The seething is palpable. 

I am guessing it is fed by the hunger that can only come from a self-proclaimed fitness guru who thinks people should eat the bulk of their meals at night, combined with all that fucking juice.  Shit gets backed up, you know?  I know you know.  Spinning your bitterness for hours a day, knowing your arms are toner and you are taller, and yet, but for all your lack of intellect and any appealing qualities to men who actually want to sleep with women?  It is a bitter pill, Mary, and I fully support you swallowing all of them.

Julia:  Our Lady of Introspection—  Oh Christ, there is so much and yet nothing to say.  Predictably, she now wants to go to business school at Harvard or Stanford, and realistically?  She will probably get in, notwithstanding her grasp of anything business-related.  She ”owns a company” that is predicated on readers who don’t admire her, but still read her because she is a real time, virtual trainwreck of social skills and common sense, and the paradigm of an unlikable human being.  And who wouldn’t want such a person shilling their products?  Care for some juice?

She recently solicited input about what men like in body types, and it was not unlike imagining a NAMBLA post about just which boys the members found the most desirable.  If nonsociety.com isn’t on the pro-anorexia circuits by now, those readers just haven’t graduated high school yet.  You aren’t fat, JA.  No one but you thinks you are.  But I suspect you will keep blaming that for the string of failed relationships in your rear view window. It couldn’t possibly be owing to that vast wasteland underneath that tiny perceived layer of fat.

She also got dumped, again, and AGAIN, it was on her own merits, not blogging related.  Such a successful dating columnist this one, but lest you worry, she posted endless photos of herself in happier times, and even managed to take a few digs at the parents of the exes who didn’t like her. Presumably after tipping Gawker.  Hard to believe no one wants to take her home to meet Mom.

All in all, you missed nothing, and if you are still reading this trio, you have the patience of steel wool.   Add this lumpy coal to your mix, add tomato juice and a celery stalk, and you have yourself a very Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, and happy New Year.

Fall update.

Christ, it has been way too long and yet not nearly long enough.

Since we last parsed, a few issues of national importance have taken center stage.  A presidential election, hurricanes in the South, and a near collapse on Wall Street.  Naturally, you would expect that Our Lady of Introspection, a Georgetown poli sci grad (and newly self-described reporter) would be all over the elections, while Our Lady of Passive Aggression, a Houston native, would be talking about the devastation to her hometown, and Our Lady of Wretched Rebounds, an alumnus of Wall Street, would be angling to cover the demise of a venerable investment bank.

Alas, and of course, you would be wrong.  The only cameras and stories they are interested in are the ones that bold face their names.  I can’t scroll through all of it, but here’s what the most persistent attention whores of the current web 2.0 generation are crowing about:

Our Lady Of Passive Aggression (Mary):

• She took a ton of crappy iPhone pictures of runway shows, adding commentary such as “this is a bold new look,” and slagged on other designers in only the way a girl who designed a fanny pack for the wrist could do.  The only people who should take fashion advice from this girl are the same people who think Our Lady of Introspection is a competent dating columnist.
• But!  The return of Leven.  You kind of have to love the body language here.  I wonder if Leven explained to Mary the business of having an actual television deal.  I am thinking not.  Welcome back, Leven.  Mind the social climbing sister if you can.

Our Lady of Wretched Rebounds (Meghan):

• What does this veteran of Wall Street have to say about the current crisis?    “it’s hard to comprehend what all this means for the financial market. UGH!!!!! ” That’s deep, yo.  You can see where she earned the money to buy herself a condo.

Our Lady of Introspection (JA):

• Christ, there was seriously nothing there.  The requisite pictues of her pursing her lips like a dog’s ass, dropping names like most folks drop bills on drinks, and generally being manic about whatever photoshoot she is doing for a magazine you have never heard of.
• All I have is this:  she now considers herself a journalist.   One without any education or insight about the difference between editorial and sales.
• You know what’s funny?  No one wants to advertise openly on the site.  Maybe the girls get paid for all of their ‘recommendations,’ but no company wants to align themselves openly with them.
• Oh, and while I am at it?  Yeah, there was never an inked Bravo deal, as evidenced by the fact that Bravo’s  team has been trying to figure out how to deal with a pathological liar.  At least, according to over a half dozen of my tipsters.  Confidential to JA:  A first look deal that you are self-producing does not a reality show make.  Particularly when the test audiences come back with “utterly unlikable.”  God, you must be so overworked.

All in quotes.

Quick and dirty, like my martini:

• Behold the value of a political science degree at Georgetown: “I think Joe Biden’s nephew is a douche, ergo, I am irritated by Biden as VP.” You would think someone who also fucks and tells about political figures would have a better insight into the demographic in which she lived her college years. Then again, if anyone has read anything she has written about New York, they would know better.
• If, at first, your “new” blog doesn’t take off, recycle old blog posts and create fake drama! This is kind of like the “e-mail” you posted from a “reader” who said you were fat. Except that the email address you posted for that one is quite well known along the ‘nets as one of your alternates for “tipping” people about you! Hell, you used it to tip me!
• You should ask Meghan about disguising email addresses - maybe even that new thing, gmail. When she is done researching the hot new item, the Roomba. That Megs, huh? Always on the cusp of innovation. Such a geek.
• Just a question…the voice you use in your “responses” sounds almost exactly like the voice of the e-mail seeking advice. Slow news day?
• You think it is possible that someone in your “inner circle” is tipping me?

Dear Frangry:

I love you just as much and have something special planned for Monday. 

Best to you and Moss,

baugher

frangry:

Dear Nonsociety.net,

Please stop trying be Baugher. You are nowhere near as clever.

xo,
Frangry

First course.

You know how most restaurant critics don’t review a new place in the first few months, preferring instead to give the joint some time to work out the kinks?  Yeah, I am not Frank Bruni, and although Our Lady of Introspection does share a victim complex and a bloated sense of self-importance with Jeffrey Chodorow, she doesn’t have his talent or skill.  What she does have?  Is a manic amount of content to parse.  Onward!  With bullets!

• Nonevent.   It takes a specialbrand of visionary to launch a website in the deadest traffic time of the year with stale, unfunny reruns that are positively archaic by web measurements.  Our Banality Trio are such visionaries and even had the original idea to aggregate their musings to better enable the homewrecking stalkers.
• Let us revisit the cast of characters, shall we? I have taken the liberty of editing their woefully inadequate bios to further open the “window” into the “crazy lives” of the three women who will go to the opening of an email.
• Meghan:  aka the Handmaiden of Wretched Rebounds.  The tech heiress bounced from a failed romantic relationship to possibly the worst substitute imaginable, despite the pleadings of her friends and family.  As the only one of the Banality Trio who has actually held a professional job, and is also the only one who is prospectively employable,  I suspect Meghan hopes she can parlay this embarrassing lapse in judgment into a career of bright, toothy soundbytes on late night cable television, playing tech geek to the insomniacs who still believe that a girl who wears a geek shirt likes geeks.
• Mary: aka the Handmaiden of Passive Aggression.  She is all too familiar with playing second fiddle and you get the sense that she isn’t going to take it much longer.  As the much older (and taller and thinner) stepsister to an inexplicably teflon Lolita named Leven, Mary has only a failed reality show and dreadfully tacky handbags to show for her certain superiority.   Unemployable for lack of work ethic, skill set, and an abiding desire to become a suitable first trophy wife, Mary has hitched her man-hunting wagon to Our Lady’s HUMMER of unfounded self promotion.   While her past ‘success’ with the wrist fannypack might be enough to land a caddy from River Oaks, Mary is striving to become the woman for whom the golf pro leaves his wife.  Aim high, Mac.
• Say, how is Leven?  Give her my best, will you?
• Julia: aka Our Lady of Introspection.  The indefatigable ringleader of the Banality Trio.  Believes that sitting for hair and makeup is hard work, that said hair and makeup should in no event be removed, and that she should be paid for being her.  A former talking head for a supermarket tabloid that claims she ‘never had an interest in talking about celebrities’, and a current dating columnist who is afraid of sex,it only makes sense that she finally throw caution to the wind and talk a little about herself.  Utterly unemployable (google gives you (1) getting fingerbanged at Balthazar; (2) revealing confidences; and (3) plagiarism), JA is positioning herself to play her favorite role - the (attention) whore with a heart of gold.  A real-life Barbie doll, complete with a pink tutu, tits and hermetically sealed genitals.

Christ, and there is the whole Wired article to parse, and a tipster who has given full permission to share the information with the class.

Also:  brilliant. You ever get the sense Our Lady can’t sleep at night?  It is almost like she exists solely on the internet.

The Mysterious Parsing Noise

I think your long term plan is brilliant, but you didn’t answer my direct question.  Also, until Alex Balk gets on the Khmer Rouge beat (and I think he is still on Zimbabwe) I don’t think it is going to get on my radar, if you know what I am saying.

dearconbon:

Dear Conbon,

I am the author of a modestly well-received blog that parsed the manic amount of content generated by a certain aspiring NY media celebrity. After a while, I became bored senseless with my subject, she started using my parsings for publicity, and, in any event, the point was more than made. The subject at issue slinked to the twittering corner of the internet, and since the world abhors a twitterer, she stayed far off my radar.

Now, however, she is back like a persistent herpes hydra strain and infecting my enjoyment of the great digital superhighway. Worse, I have vital informatiuon from a reliable tipster that she is full of shit, yet again, employing the Denton school of “if you talk enough about it, they maybe will come?”

Back in my regular parsing days, when I started to question what kind of person would willingly sift through that kind of banality for a few laughs, I was assured that it was something of a public service for the internet at large. Now, it just seems like tackling the latest wave of shameless attention whoring and public bullshit would be redundant and opening a whole other can of worms and extending a weave of senseless hair extensions. On the other hand, there is something kind of noble about affecting the trajectory of a shameless fameball.

Should I parse the latest round of bullshit, or just let the fameballs land where they may?

Best to you and yours,
baugher

Dear baugher,

I have thought long and hard about your query. I tried many different methods of reflection in order to arrive at the best possible answer. I made a sweat hut out of Wired backissues. I went on a vision quest to Silicon Alley. (This consisted of me getting drunk, stepping out into traffic in front of IAC and almost getting killed by an oncoming delivery truck.) Finally, I discovered the root of the problem. Someone, talented with coding, needs to write an html script. This script should search out every instance of this “aspiring NY media celebrity” on the entire web, like a giant, black-widow-with-a-rocket-launcher version of Google’s webcrawler. Once this unstoppable fucking badass script finds a picture, video, or mention of the subject of your parsing; it should replace that instance with this:

Until such a script is invented, find something more interesting and entertaining to parse. For instance, comedic theater of the Khmer Rouge.

Once more with feeling.

Christ, it has been a while and not nearly long enough. The hypothesis of the experiment proved to be remarkably accurate. The credit is yours, baugher nation. For old times’ sake, let’s take a look at some of the topics we have missed over the past few months, bulleted and ribbed for your pleasure.

• Sex and the City: My favorite part of this bout of staged inanity was that I couldn’t help but wonder which one of them actually had a job, boyfriend, or any sense of boundaries between private and public that in any way resembled their dream show. I think they all missed that nuance of SATC - it was never about self promotion or attention whoring. It was kind of dumb, and they certainly picked up on that and ran with it, but it was never about being famous for having no talent.
• “That’s where Sex and the City’s consumer romance culture stopped being cute and started being a little, well, sad”. You know what? I couldn’t agree more.
• Also, phoning it in much? (and rewriting history in your free time?) She said she would rather get shoes than a date. That isn’t a manifesto on cheap dating, Pink Lady. That is saying you would rather have the object of your ambition buy you something, rather than share a meal with him. It is almost as if you need someone to be the custodian of your memories.
• Might want to give those columns a little more effort, seeing as how she lost the Star Magazine gig. But she absolutely, positively wasn’t fired. Except she was. It’s like when she read Tori Spelling’s book on the plane, while she was sleeping. I won’t call her a liar, since that causes family disownment, so let’s just say Twitter is her custodian!
• While we are on the subject of lies, lost jobs and new ventures, refusing a direct quote in an IM chat is not exactly the same as honoring a nondisclosure agreement, or, you know, exercising common discretion. I guess it really isn’t surprising that she needed this pointed out. Again.
• But! There is an online show coming! Not a reality show, of course, as unlikable and grating aren’t desirable buzzwords for television, but luckily, there is a shit ton of evergreen content. Memo to Our Lady of Introspection: when you upload things to the internet? The internet acts as your custodian! You see how that works? You might want to ask Meghan about all of that. It is really complicated and I hear she is the tech brains of your operation.

30 second recap? Meghan was in charge of releasing the topless shots, Mary has something up her ass, and Our Lady of Introspection is just really, really happy about her career right now.

Final note: never have three unemployed people blogged so much about being overworked.