I'm sorry. I can't. Don't hate me —
Pete vs. PETA, Taylor & Matty's breakup, and the Theme of Summer
Last night I watched the first episode of the Smartless tour documentary series on HBO (super cute and charming), and I have never identified with anyone more than Jason Bateman talking non-stop about his salads, rice cakes, no-sugar Red Bull, and other annoying calorie-cutting food habits.
This is what my friends have to deal with ALL THE TIME, only we’re not on a private jet and we’re ordering from Tacombi instead of The Palm.
The Low-Brow Lowdown
Pete Davidson feuds with PETA. After Pete bought a Cavapoo puppy for his mom after their family dog died, PETA decided to do what they do best, which is be rude and aggro.
They made a statement about how Pete should know better than to prop up the puppy mill industry, which Pete, who famously takes public derision to heart, responded to with voicemail to PETA telling them to “suck his dick.”
I like it! Similar energy to Greg suing Greenpeace, but more valid.
Ariana Madix makes coin off of gross Sandoval comments. In the third and final? installment of the Vanderpump Rules reunion last night, Most Hated Man in America, Tom Sandoval, used the fact that his ex, Ariana Madix, hooked up with him with her T-shirt still on as some sort of twisted “leverage” to undercut her argument that the two of them were still intimate while he was beginning his affair with her friend Raquel.
This morning, Ariana savvily dropped “Fuck Me in this T-Shirt” merch. I don’t know much about these Bravo ladies, but I do know they are experts at capitalizing off of trauma, and that’s really the lens with which we should all approach the world.
Beanie Feldstein got married in camp-themed ceremony. Having never really gone to summer camp, at least in the Jewish sense, it is really challenging to relate to camp kids.
Beanie and her new wife had s’mores at the rehearsal dinner, bandana tablecloths, and a performance from Ben Platt, which, okay.
Padma Lakshmi leaves Top Chef. After 20 seasons, the iconic host is packing up her spatulas. Next Stop: Easing into retirement with a podcast.
Supreme Court sides with Jack Daniels’ on Shit-Themed Dog Toy. One day you’re deciding precedent-setting rulings about freedom of speech, the next you’re talking about shit.
Prince Harry tabloid trial continues. He faced cross-examination yesterday in his ongoing trial surrounding his claim that the tabloids used “unlawful methods,” such as cellphone hacking, to create stories about him.
The Mirror Group is like the final boss in the video game of Harry’s life. Wishing him the best.
Apple announces expensive goggles and plans for iOS17. Competing with Meta’s Oculus, Apple has created a $3,500 VR headset, The Apple Vision Pro, where you can basically live out that scene from Minority Report where Tom Cruise immerses himself in the last videos he has of his kidnapped child.
That’s obvi a sad extreme, you can also do other things, like read articles (?) and text people (?).
On the iOS front, you’ll finally be able to say fuck instead of duck, leave FaceTime voicemails, and journal about your feelings.
Predictions Watch! Taylor Swift Backlash Mounts
The biggest headline of the week, outside of all of the yellow sky hullabaloo, was Taylor Swift finally calling it quits with her Joe Alwyn rebound, an adult man who still goes by “Matty.”
As we discussed in previous issues, Taylor received concern from fans and many heated Azealia Banks Instagram stories about Matty Healy’s viability to assume the throne — he’s made public racist comments that he won’t really apologize for, and is a 360-degree gremlin. Tay was probably dealing with some inner child work by dating him, the bad boy experience she never got to have as America’s sweetheart.
Anyway, a mere days ahead of the breakup, Vulture published an article sent to me by Uncultured’s official Taylor Backlash predictor, Mackenzie, titled “Is Another Wave of Taylor Swift Backlash Brewing?”.
The author, Nate Jones, posits that the discourse around Taylor right now feels eerily similar to what built the foundation of her downfall in 2015 — overexposure and skepticism surrounding her moral ideology as it pertained to feminism, politics, etc.
Now that Matty has been disposed of, she may have escaped this first test, but existing as a top-grossing pop star in America is essentially like playing a 4D version of one of Jigsaw’s games from the Saw franchise, so it’s all too likely that the next hypodermic needle pit is only just around the corner.
Hot Girl Summer is Out. Insta-Exorcisms and Caviar Bagels are In.
This is my latest for Betches, where I took it upon myself to pitch some themes for the summer, since Barefoot Boy Summer definitely won’t be cutting it.
Friend of the pod Zoé has already pitched Judy Blume Summer (healing your inner pre-teen), but my DMs are open for more genius suggestions.
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Over the weekend, I opened my Saturday New York Times email blast (are you impressed?) to find an inquisitive blurb from culture editor Melissa Kirsch wondering how we’ll collectively brand the summer of 2023 in this modern era of eras.
Summer offers the rare opportunity for us normie civilians to temporarily live our lives like reality stars; to be the hero in our own movie; to “step out” versus simply walk around. So whatever we land on, maximizing drama is paramount.
While the horny, post-quarantine “hot girl summer” has come and gone, what new proclamation will take its place? Appletini summer? Asbestos summer??!
Here are my official pitches for the theme of summer 2023:
Christine Quinn Summer
She may have disappeared from Selling Sunset, but Christine Quinn still lives rent-free in our hearts and minds.
A Christine Quinn summer is all about excess. We’ll finally embrace the latent gauche, gaudy, and greedy tendencies we routinely suppress in pursuit of pious minimalism or “quiet luxury.”
It’s wearing six-inch Jimmy Choos when you pick up toilet paper from the corner store. It’s smearing caviar on your bacon, egg, and cheese. It’s throwing a party just because, and the theme is sluts.
Good Chat Summer
If Love Island contestants have taught us anything about how to summer, it’s that hydration is key and flirty ban-tah with your fuckbuddy is non-negosh.
A good chat summer is all about ditching the smalltalk and living for the bit. Instead of asking “What do you do for work?” or “How do you know the host?”, you’re holding court with:
What do you think happens to us when we die?
Which of your parents do you love more?
Would you chop off your non-dominant hand if it meant the rest of your face and body looked like Margot Robbie?
I’m Leaving At 4 P.M. and I Don’t Care What Anyone Says Summer
Sometimes the simple act of setting boundaries can cause the biggest blowouts, as we learned when the world shifted on its axis following Kourtney and Kim’s infamous Christmas Card Debacle of 2018.
This summer, we’re walking out on first dates when the guy orders his steak medium well. We’re bouncing outta wedding receptions when the DJ plays too much Ed Sheeran. We’re not even deigning to attend the office happy hour because we have an important botox appointment that simply can’t be moved.
Jealousy is a disease, and these betches can get well soon!
You’ve Got Mail Summer
If I see one more guy on Hinge with the profile prompt “I’ll fall for you if you trip me,” I may have to hang up my SKIMS lingerie for good and resign myself to a humble life of ruminative solitude.
Maybe the secret is to take a page from Meg Ryan’s book and make an anonymous internet friend. If he turns out to be Tom Hanks, great. If he turns out to be an organ harvester, you get to meet Nev Schulman and how main character is that?!
Cabin In The Woods Summer
You know the heart stopping fear of discovering a gnarly centipede hiding in your shower? You swing your left UGG slipper at it and miss, and your only thought is, “Omg, I guess I have to move now?”
That same chaos is multiplied by a trillion when a demonic poltergeist infiltrates your home.
And I know what you’re thinking, but hear me out:
Imagine calling a priest to your Brooklyn apartment. He looks you and your two roommates squarely in the eye and stoically murmurs, “This one-bedroom flex belongs to Satan now.”
Forget a basic GRWM or tired Zara haul — a haunted hype house with a viral insta-exorcism would be the most scroll-stopping social content of the season. Rolling Stone is calling you the spookiest creator of the millennium. UTA and WME are duking it out to represent you. You’re the new face of The Vatican.
No matter which of these brilliant themes we choose, we’re guaranteed one hell of an end of summer reunion. I call dibs on the seat next to Andy.
Prekend Wrapped
Watching: Based on a True Story (Peacock) — Kind of Only Murders in the Building vibes, but with Kaley Cuoco and Chris Messina. Might hit you with a review next week, stay tuuuuuned.
Reading: “Lindsay Lohan is the Happiest She’s Ever Been” (Allure)
Eating: I made my own Banana Ice Cream last night and I couldn’t be more proud, even though it was literally putting frozen bananas in a blender. I also added a splash of cold brew, a big scoop of peanut butter, and some sliced almonds.
A brief, beautiful pop culture respite during my “why didn’t I work from home today” cubicle purgatory
Okay Ms. The New York Times banana ice cream!!