Rough around the edges
I watched Not Okay over the weekend (yes I just hyperlinked to Gawker) and I was going to do a review, but I realized I had nothing to say, outside of the fact that the best part of the movie was the cameos: the Caroline Calloway cameo, the Lexapro cameo, the Black Swan cameo, the Swiss Miss with Marshmallows cameo, the 818 Tequila cameo, the Waterloo Sparkling Water (TRIGGERED) cameo — all they needed was for Cameo.com to have a cameo. .
I would easily pay $30 for Danni Sanders to make a video telling my friend who caught Crabs that it’s okay to not be okay.
Rough Cut
Movie review, TV binges, etc.
Instead I’m going to talk about Uncoupled, the new Neil Patrick Harris show on Netflix from the producers of Sex and The City. Although given the median age of the cast, it’s definitely an And Just Like That affair.
From a brow perspective, the show definitely skews more Joann Fabrics than CB2, but I still watched all 8 episodes in a 12-hour period.
The logline: Bougie Manhattan realtor Michael (NPH) is planning the perfect surprise 50th birthday party for his long-time partner Collin, but he’s left holding the piñata when Collin briskly announces he’s moving out.
The journey: This means heartbroken Michael, who hasn’t so much as glanced at another man’s grey sweatpants in 17 years, must navigate NYC as a geriatric Grindr zaddy.
Much like Carrie before him, Michael has a strong support system of fancy friends who offer cheap sexual innuendos about his various meetcutes at dinner (“I trust you found him in the meat aisle”) — he’s got his hopelessly single real estate partner, a bumbling Nathan Lane-esque art dealer, and a narcissistic meteorologist who delivered my favorite quip of the season: “we’re all shallow, I’m just honest about it, which makes me deep.”
The yasses:
I love NPH (I know, sue me), so four hours of Neil is a W for me.
There’s lots of fun NYC real estate to look at.
The episodes are short.
The nasses:
All the gorgeous restaurants make me feel guilty that my Theory blazers are hanging abandoned in my closet because I never want to go anywhere that’s more than 2 subway stops away and doesn’t allow athleisure. It also makes me feel bad that I can’t afford to go to those restaurants even if I was brave enough to take the Q on a Saturday.
It’s predictable, but in sort of a cozy way, so this could also be a positive.
Closing thoughts: Right now I’m all about how shows fit our need states, versus running towards whatever’s the best thing on television when I might not be in the optimal mindset to fully enjoy it. I’m like, let the content come to you.
In this case, I recommended this to my mom to watch while my dad was out of town — it’s that type of show.
★★★☆☆
Viral Bible
Internet wormholes, celeb deep dives, etc.
I am not exaggerating when I tell you that this week I Ran with a capital R to Vulture.com to read their exclusive interview with the one and only Jake Novak.
Who is Jake Novak, you innocently inquire?
To answer, we’ll need to go back to June 15th. You probably had a Mango White Claw in hand as a toast to the official start of summer, eagerly anticipating a season full of lazy park hangs and limitless adventure. One could guess that’s how Jake Novak felt, before one egregious misstep made him the single most ridiculed person on the internet.
Jake boasted around 300K+ followers on TikTok, where he was known for comedic songwriting videos that felt like they would have been smash hits in the 2011 Tumblr Era. (As an aside, after viewing his content, which reeked of millennial theater kid who think’s he’s the best thing since the everything bagel, I thought to myself, I bet this kid went to Emerson College [my alma mater, go tigers], a breeding ground for perky white boys with no self awareness. And guess what, I was right!!!!)
Anyway, with a couple semi-viral successes, Jake decided it was time to apply this formula to a public SNL audition tape.
There’s a reason SNL auditions have historically happened in a dark, windowless rooms, which Jake’s video reaffirms — he inadvertently created one of the most painful pieces of content we’ve ever collectively witnessed as a society.
The minute-long video packs in a year’s worth of cringe: Jake addresses Lorne Michaels by name, multiple times, calls himself a mixture of Lin Manuel-Miranda and “Sammy Berg,” uses the words “my jam” and “bruh” in the same wretched sentence, acts out an nonsensical sketch of two men at a coat check, makes a painful Dick In A Box reference (again, 2006 territory), dons a glittery red suit jacket, and zealously offers to sweep the floors of 30 Rock.
An onslaught of TikTok spoofs and mocking Duets quickly followed — it dominated my entire feed for a good two weeks, to a degree where I suddenly knew all of the words to Jake’s original song and would find myself accidentally humming it while making my daily egg white omelet. It even caught the attention of former SNL cast member Leslie Jones, who commented with the facepalm emoji.
Jake had no formal response to the haters, but his account went dark. He didn’t take down the video, but hasn’t posted anything since its catastrophic debut.
After 7 long weeks, Jake finally broke his silence by sitting down with Vulture. Here’s what we learned:
Jake operated on a self-imposed deadline/schedule of creating and publishing a new piece of TikTok content every Wednesday. The infamous SNL tape was just another Wednesday drop, which he believed to be pretty good, and subsequently didn’t run by any friends for a gut check. This is why we have friends, Jake!!
Initially, Jake planned to take the critique in stride and continue on with his normal cadence of posting weekly content. But he sent a draft of his next, unrelated project to a friend, who wisely advised him, “this is not what you need to do next.”
He’s avoided the TikTok firestorm for his mental health, though friends have monitored it on his behalf and affirmed it’s not a place he should go.
But the snark directed at Jake extends beyond TikTok — people started digging up his old tweets to make fun of, and the anonymous contact form on his website “evolved into a hate inbox,” which he ultimately had to remove.
Despite the death threats and vitriol, Jake doesn’t think he’s done with the internet just yet.
It’s hard out there if you’re a go-getter, which it seems like Jake is. When the interviewer asked him if earnestness was “a large part” of what he was trying to do with the sketch, he confirmed that’s what he steered towards.
Why does earnestness inherently make us want to climb out of our skin?
That’s something I think about a lot when I create content even at this minute scale — that constant need to straddle the line between enthusiasm, which is what makes other people excited about what you have to say, and indifference, which fortifies you from contempt. Even in this paragraph, you could say I’m “being vulnerable,” which has me worrying that whoever reads this is going to cringe a little bit.
While I did enjoy the flood of Novak spoofs probably more than I should have, as a fellow hustler, I’m glad Jake isn’t Walter Whiting it to a remote cabin in rural New Hampshire to hide from the shame. I can’t say I’m confident that his next retort or attempt at a comeback won’t result in similar derision, but one thing always remains true: America loves an underdog.
Money Talks
Credit card debt intensifies. . .
The following is yet another argument for why I need to get cast on a reality show and win $66,000 after taxes.
Skims Swim — I feel like this is a fun twist on a one-piece. Kim’s making modesty (or body dysmorphia, however you want to spin it) slutty. Thank you, Kimberly!
Trader Joes’ Retinol Night Serum — I always said I would start retinol when I turned 25 and my word is impeccable.
Faux Cashmere Throw Blanket — This is 100% going to fall off the edge of my bed every night, and then I’ll dutifully put it back on in the morning in a never-ending cycle of emptiness.
Ruggable Keith Haring Rug — God this was expensive. I mean, it was affordable as rugs go, but not when you’re a literal serf in feudal NYC.
Skinny Soundbites
Half-baked mini thoughts
This was a week for scandals! My favorite kind of week.
Justice for Kylie! After she was shaded for her 17-minute private jet flight, it was revealed that Taylor Swift is actually the biggest carbon offender when it comes to jet trips. And now she’s hiding behind an umbrella to mask the SHAME. This just supports my theory that people shit on the KarJenners at every opportunity because they view it as low-hanging fruit, while “respectable” celebs like Taylor are just as privileged, out of touch, and reckless.
Netflix is suing the creators of the Unofficial Bridgerton Musical for copyright infringement. The company had turned a blind eye at the initial release of the Grammy-winning album, but now that the creators are profiting commercially from live shows and merchandise, they’re beheading them, or however laws were enforced in the Regency era.
Her hips don’t like but her tax returns might. Shakira could face up to 8 years in Spanish prison for allegedly failing to pay $15M in taxes while living in Spain. I think tax fraud is the sexiest crime and what I would most like to go down for when I’m a wealthy socialite — I’ll get arrested in my six inch Jimmy Choos and I’ll be like, “Nathaniel, call the lawyer!” I don’t know if Nathaniel is my slightly absent husband or my gay business partner, but either way it will be very dramatic and hot.
Prekend Wrapped
What the fuck is a prekend?
Watching: Industry S2 (HBO) — No one really watched season 1, but I’m hoping season 2 will be the breakout success. This is a fun watch, especially for those of us still early in our careers. It’s true desperation representation.
Listening: Surrender by Maggie Rogers
Reading: Jennifer Coolidge’s White-Hot Comeback (Variety)