One More Salute to Vanity

IN WHICH WE NAME OUR GAME

When I'm feeling down, Whitney sends me old chats. In the following, she is "me" and I am "Drew," which I suppose I always am. We still haven't started that blog.
Drew: Good Slacks & A Sensible Blouse. We should start a blog and call it that.
me: kill me with Angela Lansbury
Drew: You love it
me: how about Bleach & Guns Like Lady Gaga in The Videophone Music Video Dot Com
Drew: That does not describe us
Drew: Get real
Drew: More like Stretch Pants with Sauce Stains
Drew: Bang Wars and Supercuts
me: Bang Wars in Bangalore
Drew: I Wash My Bangs in the Sink
Drew: Clean in the Front, Dirty in the Back
Drew: The Only Clean Article Of Clothing On My Person is My Underpants (Maybe)

Art Imitates Life, Avocado

Me: should I just pick something up for dinner?
Nick: we have no peppers or onions
Me: I’ll just pick something up
Nick: we have avocado

Occasionally, if you blog something it eventually comes true.

Ferran Adria Eat Your Heart Out

Me: Like El Bulli, I'm going to start my own food foundation. But I'll open it in 2013 and be like "BOOYA! look at my floating eggs!" You want in?
Whitney: YES. "HELLO, SUCKAS! COME DRINK MY FOAM!"
Me: "I farted in this jar in 2010 so you could enjoy it in 2013. Now put on this unitard and lick the wall paper"
Whitney: "That's not puff paint, it's solid gold duck semen, and it's delicious."
Me: It's a fucking CELEBRATION.