No, no really! $30 for a candle is totes reasonable!!!!

Today day I waltzed on in to Catbird (a.k.a. HEAVEN!!!!!), where I was on a true mission: to buy myself yet ANOTHER really expensive candle. Now I realize that many people may think it ridiculous to spend more then $30 on a candle, especially when you end up buying roughly one per month. 

In case you are too dumb or lazy to do the math, that adds up to about $350-$400 a year, on muthafuckin' candles.

HOWEVER, I would like to say that the Seda brand candles really make this indulgence worth it. They burn for days (literally, you can burn them for 60 hours or more, if you are into that kinda thing, which is probs a bit excessive). I know that as (A) a girl and (B) a dog owner and (C) a drunk who socially smokes in the apt and makes a wide array of other poor choices 

that having a nice-smelling apt is a really crucial thing. So anyway, whether you live in a cruddy loft with stinky roomates, or a tiny tenement with pets, or even if you live in a really fabu penthouse, buy yourself a Seda once in a while, because your nostril will thank you, and every boy that you bring home will think you are a genius and/or goddess and/or BOTH!

CELEBelixer, March 12th

This week's lucky winner......

Today's amazing and completely metaphorical cocktail goes straight down the esophagus of Ashley Alexandra Dupre! With Lord knows whatever else has traveled through your orifices, you've proved once again that the world is full of horned-up liars and meglomaniacal hypocrites. Plus you have a funny song that is sure to be a hit for maybe 30 seconds beyond your 15 minutes of fame.

Damn baybee, from one sheer piece of jersey trash to another, I'd like to serve you an ice cold pina colada, just like the kind you used to drink out of an oversized neon beaker whilst stumbling down the Seaside Heights boardwalk all those years ago in High School. You've distinguished yourself from other notable hookers in history: you brought a political party to its knees, whilst confirming your "alive" status via daily checking of your Myspace page. 

I dream of the day when we can go fake-baking together and you can give me all the salacious details of the senior citizen weenie that you had to look at. Until then, sip this trashy bevvie and keep on rawkin' gurl. 

I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT.........

we did 'em for the Takeover

SO - 

I struggled and ached and devoured my way through tons of albums for some Big Takeover reviews.....

just in case you aren't familiar with this magnificent publication, think of it as one of the densest and amazing 'zines that has lasted for the past 20 years or so. Go pick up a copy, kthnx.

Included in my BT #62 reviews are Sunset Rubdown, Hot Chip, Evangelicals, Rosewood Thieves, Shocking Pinks, and the Battle Royale!!!!

I'd have to say I lucked out this time, these are some awesome CDs.

wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

I stole this from Gawker:

But I couldn't resist. It perfectly sums up the sheerness of this deviant bicycle bombing!

I saw Jonathan Richman, at le Music Hall of Williamsburg

And what a splendid evening it was!

I believe that the amount of whiskey which I imbibed makes my reviewing skills slightly illegitimate, but yowzah..... I have to say that this guy HAS IT. keeping a crowd of hipsters blended with annoyingly dedicated superfans focused while you, your guitar, and your drummer completely run the show is no small feat. At times the only sounds audible were Richman's crooning, and his feet tapping away to an awkward dance move - no chattering, no shifting, no cell phones (thank gawd, especially after Richman's sang a disparaging number about mobile devices and their effect on social life).

Everyone adores seeing him live, and now I understand why - Richman is blissfully entertaining. His vocals seem as though from a different era, with their velvet-loungey-nasally texture. Plus he dances around on stage like your drunken uncle might dance in zero gravity with a peacock, speaks multiple languages, and can seamlessly insert relevant references into his songs (like the way he did in "Springtime in NY," when he started warbling about the smell of old warehouses in the East Village and Williamsburg being knocked down for gentro-purposes).

One minute hysterical, and the next bittersweet, at times it felt much more like performance art then a musical performance per se. It's been a long time since I've smiled so much at a concert, perhaps the whiskey elevated my mood, but from what I could tell everybody felt the same way.

CELEBelixer, March 5th

Sheer! presents this week's winner.....

DANNIELYNN HOPE MARSHALL STERN

drink: champagne (served in baby bottle)

jukebox dedication: "girls just wanna have fun" by cyndi lauper

Each week, we play the role of barmaid in our imaginary dive bar and give an imaginary cocktail to a celebrity who really really earned a stiff drink this week.

This time around, the drink is on the house for Dannielyn Hope Marshall Stern. Firstly, she has a really irritatingly long name. Secondly, this little trooper has already endured one hell of a trainwreck life since she popped out of her mom's crazy vajayjay 18 months ago. There was the brother's death, then the mother's death, as well as the shitshow of a custody battle slash media circus slash inheritance drama. LASTLY, she just won ALL of that fucking money. damn homegirl, you best go treat yo'self to something niiiiiiice.

Dear Dannielyn, we salute you and would like to serve you some champagne out of your baby bottle. It's probably not the ideal scenario for you to be consuming booze before you can even form complete sentences, but we figure you are pretty much going to be royally effed up for your entire life, so you might as well enjoy it while you are young. Sugarpie. PS - call Sean Preston if you want to have a reaaaaaalllyyy wild time. i heard that kid is KRAYZEEE

me luv you long time

I had an emotionally scarring experience last week at Kitson, where I saw a leather jacket which lured me in with its beauty and then hurt my feelings with its price tag. I was nearly having an anxiety attack while I stroked it on the shelf, touching the soft and perfect texture, while my friends urged me to "just try it on," and 99 Luftballoons blasted in the background, and the cute little asian saleslady re-arranged some kitten-shaped shoes directly to my left. It was SHEER, the manner in which I had instantly become a materialistic, jacket-coveting beotch. Normally, I can at least keep my mind two tracked.

I resisted temptation's pull, fought back tears, but haven't stopped thinking about how it only cost multiple hundreds of dollars, and maybe I can fly back to LA just to buy it. Especially because every website I see it on now is charging over $100 MORE for this beautiful object of my desire. What a kick in my non-existent balls.

If anyone buys this for me, me love you LONG time...... 

Moral of the story: FUCK YOU NICOLE RICHIE.