5.27.09

Dear Rachel Dratch,

This weekend, I am taking a plane and making a trip. I rode my first airplane at 18--we went to Disney World as a graduation present from high school. I've always been a Disney fan since childhood so it only made sense that I celebrate my "move" into adulthood by spending time on flying elephants and in that giant silver golf ball. And I'm being serious--this was the best gift, ever. Previously, I had been a little afraid of airplanes. Anything that flew in the air scared me because I didn't understand how they stayed up there. Once, on vacation at Universal Studios, we were about to ride Back To the Future The Ride. I was crying my eyes out because the commercial made it seem that the cars were held up by wires. I was afraid that if one of these wires snapped that me and my family would plunge to our death. Instead, the cars were held by anything but, and instead just sat within a domed screen, IMAX style before IMAX existed. Everything about flying in any kind of way left my stomach twisted and my eyes wet when I was young.

Today, I fly with little to no incident. I get magazines to read that I normally don't read, I get the ipod going, and lately Ben and I travel together, which also makes the plane ride a little easier. So I'm traveling blah blah blah. I don't have any complaints with the removal of shoes (please don't look at my toenails!), or that you have to take out your computer if you bring it with you, or that you can't say goodbye to your loved ones at the gate and instead have to do it by the ticket counters. I would say that the thing that irks me the most is the rule about small toiletries.

When I go to the store, I buy the big ones. Big toothpaste, big contact solution, big deodorant. I think to fly with things in a carry-on they need to be three or less ounces or something. Of course, my joints are like four ounces. And I always forget about the tiny bottle rule when I travel. I end up having to buy things when I get wherever I am going, which is okay sometimes. I think the thing that I worry about is that if I get caught trying to smuggle in these mondo-sized bottles of contact solution that I will be pulled over, stripped searched, and added some list of people who may or may not be dangerous to the flying public. Maybe I'll just wear my glasses.

Jon

5.22.09

Dear Rachel Dratch,

I am writing mostly because it has been a minute since we last talked. I had something to say last week, but then I forgot what it was and didn't write. It was going to be really good. I guess it wasn't that good if I can't remember, right?

I don't know though, I feel like it was pretty funny. Sometimes it's hard to come up with things to talk about with you because you're not exactly responsive, so when an idea hits me I have to write then and there, or else the magic just kind of evaporates. Gah, it was so good!

It was nice to see you on TV last night. I mean, considering what you were working with, I thought you did well. I would've liked to see you work more with the pigeons, maybe keep Betty from eating some churros, or at least from kissing super-wet-looking Henry. Maybe I don't understand the weather in New York, but he looked so sweaty the whole time, and not at all in a sexy way, but one that is more, "You need some eco-friendly deodorant that won't stain your white t-shirts because it looks like you're sweating a lot."

This reminds me. I was talking with this kind advertising lady yesterday. She came in to try and sell us some stuff that would have been cool in 2004. Blah blah. I tried to sell her a dress and some shoes, but she wasn't having it. After mildly offending me when she suggested I use one of her clients who comes into your home to whiten your teeth, she began to describe this eco-friendly deodorant idea that she had. She did not understand why it seemed that there were always stains on white t-shirts' armpits. She wants to blame it on the deodorant, rather than the sweat. I was kind of surprised when she suggested that it wasn't the sweat that was staining the armpits, mostly because I was always under the impression that it was the sweat, not the deodorant. I wanted to suggest a deodorant that actually keeps your pits for real dry, because I use the stuff but sometimes I feel a little damp. Maybe that's me. You know, in white shirts we also get some ring-around-the-collar kinds of things. I don't put deodorant on my neck, so that must not be the cause, right?

Maybe dirt oozes out of us some way. I don't know. But she was talking about creating this new deodorant and threatened that we should not steal her idea. It's all yours, ma'am. 

Speaking of stains, somehow I spilled some tea on my shirt this morning. Maybe it's not the deodorant or the sweat, but it's just white clothes that attract stains. Of course, my shirt today is white. But, I am wearing an undershirt to combat the pit stains. 

I can't believe I just wrote you about pit stains. I should probably go.

Jon

5.6.09

Dear Rachel Dratch,

I'm not trying to be a celebrity blogger, a la Perez Hilton or the many faceless names we encounter when we dig through our daily blog routines. But this story was too good to pass up.

First, I am obsessed with fashion--almost to the point that I scream out who made someone's outfit and the season it was first shown when I see it on TV. So naturally, come this pas Monday, I was in heaven as it was the Metropolitan Museum's Costume Institute's annual ball. This is bigger than the Oscars, in terms of fashion. It's a time when models whose names and faces we don't know mingle with the names and faces we recognize, but they all are looking ferocious. Oh, hello Mr. Lagerfeld! Ms. Wintour, it has been too long! 

Ok, Karl didn't show up this year. Many of the names you would expect to be a huge fashion shindig didn't come. No Naomi, Linda or Christy--despite the theme being dedicated to Models as Muses. Kate Moss was there, but that's because she had someone pay enough money that she could be named co-chair of the event. Naomi and Linda didn't show up because of a major gaffe involving Alaia (who you may remember as that designer who made Cher Horwitz's pink dress in Clueless). Anyway, I would have liked if they didn't come because Naomi threw a cellphone at or maybe spit on Linda. But that would have been too Super Model, I suppose. Many other BFDs didn't show up, due to other commitments, yada yada yada. 

I guess to make up for the lack of appearances by Karl, Naomi and the like, they had to stretch it and invite other people they thought would make for a good time. Enter Kiefer Sutherland. I guess we all forgot about his jail stint and his addiction to things, like the bottle. But he showed up. Before he arrived to the Ball, he was apparently seen twirling ladies in a bar while wearing a feather boa. I hope they didn't confuse him with Matthew McConaughey--doesn't that seem more like something up his alley? Wouldn't he also have made for a more beautiful guest list? 

Anyway, the Keef was pretty messed up. Fast-forward to the after party. Folks are having fun. Brooke Shields is there, wearing Calvin. Looking fly. She was standing near Jack McCollough, part 1 of 2 of Proenza Schouler--an awesome label that designs clothes for PYTs. The word is that Jack knocked Brooke over. I like to think he was dancing too hard and knocked her drink out of her hand with his elbow, as I have been known to do. 

The Keef saw this happen and made it his duty to make sure Jack made amends with Brooke. He did this by inciting a fight, and proceeded to head butt Jack. Brooke is denying this. Jack has filed a police report. 

This is why Jack Bauer is not allowed anywhere that is not a television set. Anna Wintour, you have been warned.

Jon