Reblogging Julia

No one enjoys cold turkey.

To take the edge off, a few quick parsings. This is my long kiss goodnight, and I will use tongue:

• The elusive Forbidden Side of Our Lady’s face! Now, this is only secondhand, and purely anecdotal, but I have it on decent authority that Ehren Kruger attempted such a daring shot while working at Fox News, and the trauma of it resulted in The Ring.
• If we haven’t heard from Brian Van in a few days, do NOT browse his Tivo. I saved it. Save yourselves.
• Let us take a moment to survey the look. Wristbands that were hipster edgy two years ago? Check. Dallas Cowboy cheerleader earrings? Check. Improbable tranny hair? Check. Chipmunk cheek pursing? Check.
• When you really think about it, BJ tool is a pretty apt description of Our Lady’s fashion sense. [Update: reblogged here and elsewhere, since the Handmaiden of Passive Aggression deleted her dig caught her Freudian slip.]
• This is the same fashion expert who can’t spell Donna Karan and who can’t even spell seam. A tradgedy of a preformance, really. Behold the value of a USC degree.
• And what of Leven? Poor, sweet, innocent Leven. She had a sister for less than week before her fameball chasing sibling publicist scrubbed any mention of her sister Mary from Leven’s Wikipedia page.
• I wonder who is paying or sending sexy dirty chats to Jimmy Wales.

More to come, including answers to your emails and wildly awesome tips from the tipline. Jesus, you folks waited until the end to bust out the good stuff.

Winding down.

Internet, our time together is coming to a close. What started as an experiment on a cold January night has morphed into a most excellent and entertaining writing adventure: what would happen if you parsed a pathological narcissist (and later, her Handmaidens) and turned her mirror on her (and them)? Would she (or they) ever shut up and listen to objective criticism, or would she just dismiss it as haters on the internet?

I think we all have our answer. It did nothing whatsoever, and never will. As the Mediabistro piece made clear, her narcissistic personality disorder developed early, remained untreated for decades, and shows no signs of slowing down, particularly with her current posse of hangers on. While I know Our Lady of Introspection is unaware of her surroundings, I can see the shark overhead, fully extended, and, like most of you, I will watch it belly flop spectacularly from the sidelines. Jaws has headbands and really bad extensions.

It is like I am Morgan Spurlock, and all I want, at this point, is a free range, organic chicken. Too many additives are unhealthy, and reading Our Lady and her homecoming court is like eating at a mall food court every night. In every sense of the analogy.

I am utterly bored with my subject(s), and for these girls? Boring, irrelevant and banal is the death knell. In internet years, I am middle-aged at nearly three months old — as are they.

As this experiment comes to a close, I will try to answer your emails and questions, even from the almost dozen haters (out of hundreds of emails). Parsing baugher, if you will. I have plenty queued up on the tipline, but you are welcome to submit your query. Always held in confidence and no personal details will be revealed.

Parsing, part deux. The hangover edition.

The Mediabistroarticle was a near perfect antidote to the ridiculous Gray Lady’s puff piece on the Pink Lady. It was disheartening to witness the Paper of Record become USA Today, at least insofar as they ‘report’ on current entertainment trends, but I will still read the Week in Reivew. For now.

The mediabistro piecehad a much more objective tone, and was clearly better researched. I found myself wanting to compare notes with the author, as I suspect the omitted details of the story closely resemble the baugher tip line: ex-boyfriends who have finally rid themselves of their freakishlystalky ex, former professors and GU administrators who have yarns (and yarns) to spin of a disruptive and largely hated student, and old friends with long and detailed memories of a narcissist in the making.

The common denominator is that Our Lady of Introspection is tolerable, not necessarily likable, in person, she is desperate to promote herself (and that energy is toxic), and that she is striving to become the Paris Hilton of the internet. I am not going to parse the entire article, but it does give a startling portrayal of someone who is addicted to attention. If you are fascinated by such narcissistic pathology, have at it. I read it twice and was cringing both times. The author and I clearly share the same perspective of Our Lady of Introspection, and the foregoing bullets represent the money shots:

She works so hard for the money:

• For Fashion Week, Allison is taping video interviews for Star’s Web site. It’s been going smoothly: except for the moment she grabbed an actor from the television series Lost and asked ‘Can you give us any hints what’s going to happen next season?’ The actor grimaced and answered, “I was killed off last year.”
• Don’t worry, we’ll just fake it. I guess I should call my agent, I really have no idea what this is about”
• In October, I received a frantic call from Allison asking me if I could give her the 411 on “Joe Toro” and “Steinbrook.” When I suggested maybe she should decline, she shouted back, ‘No fucking way!”
• I just want to tell you how much I love The Girls Next Door,” says Allison.
  “Yes, but,” says Hirschorn (head of VH-1, who was taking a meeting with her)
  “It is really my favorite show, says Allison, her head bobbing up and down. “I’m hooked.”
  “Uh,” says Hirschorn.
  “No, seriously,” I love it,” insists Allison.
  “But it’s not on this network,” says Hirschorn.

She is an avowed attention whore:

• I’d wear prom dresses every day,” says Allison. “That is my look. I love for people to look at me all dressed up.”
• Approaching eleven, Julia was grounded for backtalking and her birthday party was canceled. Undaunted, Julia snuck out of the house, rode her bike to her parent’s country club, and persuaded the club to set aside a private room for her. She threw a surprise birthday party for herself the next day trekking in a bakery cake on her Schwinn.
• I like being seen as attractive. I also know that I have an expiration date. Maybe seven years.”

Her ‘friends’ know the score:

• “Julia’s been a natural disaster since I met her,” says Osgood, one of her best friends and a potential running mate on the reality show. “Julia appreciates how rules are important in society. But she can’t appreciate how they might apply to her…..Even then, she was saying ‘any attention is good attention.’”
• “I remember when digital cameras first came out, Julia saying ‘this is going to change my life and save me so much money,’” says a high school classmate.
• “She literally forgets anything that is inconsistent with the person she is trying to become at that moment in time. It’s a little sad, I have to be the custodian of her memories.”
• Then we got in a shouting match and she told me if I ever tried to censor one of her columns she would make sure I never get another job in journalism. At that point, I said ‘you’re fired, get the fuck out of my office.’”

Let’s meet the family’s perspective:

• Our son Britt’s exactly the opposite,” says [her mother]. “He’s studying to get a PhD in physics at MIT. He’s really quiet.” She laughs a little. “Now that I think about it, maybe that was a reaction to Julia taking up all the oxygen.”
• She’s taken off like a rocket ship.” Her [father] laughed a bit. “The only problem is at some point the rocket ship comes down.”

And finally, she is an admitted prick tease who trades in suggestions of sex for paid trips. She tries to project the confidence of a sexual woman, but she demonstrates no desire, use, or capacity for that kind of intimacy. Quite frankly, she has to be a cold lay, unless there is a camera on her, which is surely forthcoming. Sex is just a necessary evil and a bargaining chip to garner fabulous stories that she can then share with a bunch of strangers on the internet in an attempt to prove, once and for all, that she matters.

Weekend warrior parsing, part uno.

Christ, so much content to parse.  There is a 6000 word piece on Mediabistro, the always amusing ramblings of the Handmaiden of Passive Aggression, and some (dare I say) bipolar-like twittering.   I will start the parsing with the more vocal member of the Homecoming Court.  

• The impassioned defense of Our Lady of Introspection seemed very sincere.  It isn’t like Mary is tipping the baugher line about her friend Julia - hell, quite the opposite situation exists. 
• And yet.  It is disingenuous to screech ”I’m sure it seems like Julia Allison is a persona not a real person.  NOT TRUE! ” when Julia herself freely admits she promotes a caricature of herself and, indeed, interviews that “I love being a caricature,” says Allison … I’m creating the caricature so it’s totally fine. I love watching how people react to what I’ve created.”. 
• If people are skewering her caricature or persona, doesn’t that mean, by the transitive property (ask Scrunchy about that) that she isn’t being attacked personally?  Doesn’t it also mean that the Pink Lady loves reading baugher?  Doesn’t that render your whole defense meaningless and outsidery?
• See, I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to reread the question and think about your answer before you speak.  Actually, that is just really good advice for you generally.  
• “Often a little too loud and aggressively social, Julia has a difficult time containing her enthusiasm.”  This roughly translates into “Julia embarrasses the hell out of me on a regular basis,” but the more interesting angle is when Mary got in the business of reviewing her friends like an elementary school teacher.   I find myself in the unfamiliar territory of defending JA, as she would never say anything like that about Mary.  At least not publicly.
• Well, wait.  Allison’s friend Mary Rambin has now joined her. As with all of Julia’s friends, Rambin views Allison with equal parts affection, amusement, and a desire to blow dart her with a lethal potion…..Julia then hipchecks Rambin out of the frame’s sweet spot..  I stand corrected.   Simpatico!
• “It’s really unfortunate because she ALWAYS has EVERYONE’S best interest at heart. ”  Like, by way of a totally hypothetical example, revealing the personal and professional confidences of her ex on a website she knows is hostile towards her in an effort to garner favor with people she doesn’t know. Her current non-hiatus from blogging is surely owing to her tireless efforts to serve the less-fortunate at soup kitchens.  She is probably growing those extensions for eventual donation to cancer patients.
• “Julia is fucking smart.  You can see it in her writing.  She really would have made an amazing lawyer because her arguments are always accurate and perfectly constructed.”  Yeah, I can totally see how you would think that, but she doesn’t care about winning.  Just likes the sound of her own voice.
• I suspect Our Lady didn’t authorize this picture as it shows the Forbidden Side of her face.  And while you say you are “not sure how people find time to constantly write mean commentary about her,” you might want to take a look at the number of pages on your blog compared to others before you talk about other people constantly posting .  Sure, math is hard, but that whole thinking before speaking thing?  Good advice.  You like advice.
• Oh, and while I am here?  How is Leven? 

The view is not pretty.

I am under a deadline to send this cargo out on the Underground Railroad, so forgive the lack of pithy introduction and let us proceed to a quick parsing:

• I now appreciate the visionary business acumen in describing their next business venture as an online version of The View . This is the online equivalent of watching Elizabeth Hasselbeck (in the form of the maniacally braying laughter of Our Lady of Introspection) react to the subject being more interested in Sherri Shepherd (played by the always pleasantly oblivious Meghan), while Joy Behar (Mary) barks completely uninteresting questions about what he is wearing. They so need a Whoopi and Barbara to complete the circle of unbearable.
• Maybe they found their Barbara Walters? Name dropping, insidery perspective. Needs a little more self-assuredness and an inexplicable accent, but a solid formal audition nonetheless.
• Wait, does that make me the Whoopi? I decline the position. Lay down with dogs and resultant fleas and all that.
• Note to Matt White: You need to hire the publicist for Leven Rambin. That last name might seem familiar. You will thank me later.
• Evidently, some people don’t enjoy sharing the limelight camera time This is becoming painfully obvious.
• You know how some mean people insinuate that the Pink Lady often talks out her ass? Well, thanks for the visual.

It takes (an East) Village.

It seems our Lady of Introspection is on the hunt, digging tirelessly to unearth the real baugher.  To wit, one of the tipsters received this accusatory email from our Pink Lady today yesterday:

You’re obviously intelligent, and a talented writer.  You’ve gone to great schools, you have a [redacted] degree with honors.  You seem to have a great job [redacted].

So why waste your time writing about me?

You’ve never met me.  I doubt you’ve met any of my family, friends, or colleagues.  And yet, you continue to write about them - every day, without fail, as if you’re part of our lives.

You’ve decided you know me, from my photographs, videos, from my online writing.  You’ve decided - I don’t know why, exactly - that you have a right to judge my life.

You don’t.

Drawing conclusions from bits of online data is your prerogative - but writing about them anonymously, in a consistently nasty, obsessive way - that’s going too far.

And honestly?  You’re scaring me.

Please stop.

Thank you,

Julia Allison

The recipient of this screed is a wee bit complicit in the publishing of baugher, but alas, there is an Underground Railroad of folks who are willing to upload these ridiculous parsings.  Correlation is not causation, Scrunchy.  I have taken a few Jason Bourne-like steps to thwart your cunning Star Magazine journalistic skills.

And while I am here, may I parse?  Yes?  ONWARD!

• Have you met the family, friends, and colleagues of Britney Spears, or Brtiney herself?  No?  Well, how is is it that you offer your judgments on her life, on television and for a living, yet are indignant when others do the same to you, another publicity hound, for sport and entertainment?
• I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you to reread the question and think before you answer.
• Do you not judge the celebrities you are paid to opine about from online bits and pieces, such that you think you know them?
• Again, I need you to reread the question and think about your answer.
• Is parsing the public antics of a self-professed attention whore obsessive and nasty?  Are you obsessive and nasty for professionally gossiping about people you have never met, but read about online?
• Hell, reread the damn question, and get that hair out of your face, too.
• You are scared of someone who you think reblogs and parses your manic content, but has never come anywhere close to threatening you? [Ed. Note: she sent this email to someone who lives across the country.]  Going out on a limb here, but you think you have a lot of stalkers, don’t you?  That must be why you publicly chronicle your whereabouts on an hourly basis.  You are a victim in your own mind.

Fact checking after the fact.

NYT Reporter who shall remain nameless:  Really?  The MacAir emails were legitimate?  That seemed too over the top to be believable.
baugher:  Yes, and they were published despite the strong reluctance of one party to the conversation to have any ongoing association with the other party to that conversation.
NYT Reporter who shall remain nameless:  Would you have published it without consent?
baugher:  Absolutely not.  It took some convincing conversation to get permission, as one of the parties to that conversation is not as committed to garnering attention from that relationship as the other party, who mentions it at any and every opportunity to promote herself.
NYT Reporter who shall remain nameless:  But she got dumped by him, and on the internet!  Why would she keep bringing it up?
baugher:  But that wasn’t how it happened.  Julia got pissed off at Jakob’s aloofness and dickish behavior offline and called him out on it online on their very ill-advised blog.  He didn’t publicly respond to her, and thereafter, they broke up privately.  He went on to hook up with other women, including her best friend’s younger sister, Leven Rambin (an actress on All My Children, who was formerly a friend of Julia’s and who is now estranged from her much older sister, Mary Rambin, a Julia hanger-on who clearly resents Julia).  Scorned Julia guest-blogged on Gawker, whose commenters are notorious for being hostile towards her, and in trying to garner favor with them, she dished on her ex’s private business, including revelations about his departure from his job and innuendoes about his mental health. When that went over badly with the commenters, she decided to play the victim who was dumped and cheated upon.  When I published the please buy me the Mac Air emails, she announced that her blog was ruining her life and was on hiatus from the internet.  That didn’t stop her from twittering hourly and posting pictures and videos of a calculated, more wholesome self.  She didn’t stop blogging, she just stopped posting hourly on her blog.  Look, this girl gets paid to go on television and lie about celebrities on behalf of a supermarket tabloid.  She just brought her work home with her when it came to her own bad press and made up stories that the NYT apparently swallowed hook, line and sinker.
NYT Reporter who shall remain nameless: What?  Do you have sources for all of this?
baugher:  Seriously, did you folks do any type of research on her before you published your “Julia is the new Carrie” story?
NYT Reporter who shall remain nameless:  Well, everything she said checked out, and she invited the reporter into her home.
baugher:  How well did that strategy work out for you with Margaret Jones, aka Seltzer?
NYT Reporter who shall remain remain nameless: I wasn’t involved with that, but your point is well taken.
baugher:  Wasn’t anyone a little afraid of getting caught in her freakish hair extensions?  Those things have taken a life of their own.  Cousin It meets that freaky clown from Polergeist.
NYT Reporter who shall remain nameless:  She has hair extensions?
baugher:  Holy hell.  You have a great night.  Sleep well in the knowledge that you killed my faith in the NYT.

Scrunchy pulp fiction.

Christ, I so want to believe in the ongoing relevancy of the NYT, but they are making it so difficult.  If they aren’t reviewing a fake memoir, or publishing stories about call girls who aren’t, they are writing puff pieces on a rich girl with bad extensions who thinks she is living the life of a fictional character.  Thankfully, if the NYT is getting around to reporting on a ‘trend,’ it is long since over.  Since the reporter doesn’t appear to be in the business of fact checking, well, allow me to retort:

• “She frequents sleek and buzzworthy bars with her girlfriends. She has danced at Bungalow 8, the celebrity-rich club in West Chelsea. She has devoured cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery, and she can sprint in five-inch heels.”  All of which were relevant over a decade ago, like 4 Non Blondes.  And I don’t believe she can sprint period, let alone in heels.  The only thing she chases is attention and she clods after it like a horse.  That is about the only way she is Channelling Carrie Bradshaw.
• “If Carrie Bradshaw were coming to New York today,” Ms. Allison says with no hint of self-consciousness, “she would be me.”  Had the reporter done her research, she would have known that the Pink Lady has no self-consciousness or self-awareness.  And that Carrie didn’t come to New York, she was from New York*.  Our Lady of Introspection is a suburban Midwestern girl playing dress up in NYC to the SATC soundtrack.  She’s the girl who wears the scrunchy, in the form of bad Elvira extensions.  YOWZA!
• Asked how it feels to end a relationship in public like that, Ms. Allison nods her lovely head and gazes into the distance. “People were preying on my pain,” she says, her voice not quite cracking. “It was hell.”  Yes, Our Lady was a victim of people preying on her, and certainly not someone who announced on Gawker the private professional and health matters of her ex-boyfriend after blogging about their breakup around the clock.  You have no idea the hell she suffered.
• “Ms. Allison lives alone in a small studio in Hell’s Kitchen “the size of my toenail,” as she puts it.”   As opposed to the more spacious place she lived in, rent-free, on her ex-boyfriend’s dime, for nearly a year.   Carrie bought her apt from her ex when they broke up.  Scrunchy that.
• “I think you should be able to make a living doing something that really appeals to you without being judged.”  Being a professional gossip really appeals to the Pink Lady, except for, you know, the whole “people preying on her pain” part. 
• Most emailed?  Nope. Most blogged?  Nope.
• You would think the Pink Lady would know something about makeup for the camera, and that excessive blinking is indicative of lying.   You would be wrong. 
• Of course, you would also think the reporter would fact check the representation that the Pink Lady has surrendered her ‘pink encased loaded weapon’ for ‘Silent Reflection Time.’  You would be wrong about that, too.  Welcome to the new New York Times.  They report, you debunk.   Thereafter, they will publish an awkwardly worded correction that nobody will read, but the schwag bag from the SATC movie publicists will have been totes worth it.

*[Ed Update:  A JA loyalist schooled me that the Carrie Bradshaw character was not, in fact, from New York, as it was implied once (in 94 episodes) that Carrie moved to New York when she was 17, and therefore only lived in NYC for half (but not all) of her character’s life.  The tipster’s superior knowledge of Sex in the City** is duly noted (your Pink Lady jacket is in the mail), and the author’s egregious factual error is left intact for the reader to mock relentlessly.  My readers deserve fact-checking skills that are above the NYT variety and this is my awkwardly worded correction that nobody will read.]

[** Ed. Update, Part II:  Damn, the loyalists are uppity about SATC accuracy.  Got ANOTHER correction that it is Sex AND the City, not Sex IN the City.  Same standards apply regarding the author’s shameful and regrettable error.]