That's what the money's for
Velveeta. . .please. The goopy cheese nail polish and now the cheese infused martini? Does the PR strategy of making everyone hate you actually lead to more moms buying Velveeta for their kids’ grilled cheese sandwiches? Something tells me this isn’t what Don Draper fought for!!
Rough Cut
Movie review, TV binges, etc.
On Monday nights right after The Bachelorette, we’re blessed with an episode of an even more chaotically dumb reality show, Claim to Fame. And I have to say it’s a much more enjoyable watch than listening to Rachel say for the 43rd time, “golly, it really is hard having two Bachelorettes.”
At a glance: Part Big Brother part Knives Out, the series follows a classic mansion format, but instead of hot hospitality workers and flight attendants, the house is filled with relatives of super famous people. It’s hosted by Kevin Jonas and Frankie the forgotten Jonas, and the objective of the show is to determine everyone else’s famous relative is before they find out yours.
The contestants: I have to say, I’m impressed by how A-List some of the relatives are. Normally on these shows it’s like American Idol contestants from 11 years ago, but they have relatives from Zendaya, Whoopi Goldberg, Simone Biles. . .
Simone’s little sister was like, “I’m on this show to prove that I’m more than just Simone Biles’ little sister.” By. . .winning money off the fact that you pretended not to be Simone Biles’ little sister for three weeks? Sure.
The setup: Each episode, the contestants participate in some sort of challenge like a talent show or a game of Marco Polo. The winner of the game gets a special hint about one contestant, while the loser is forced to make an official guess at the elimination ceremony — if they’re right, the person they correctly guessed goes home. If they’re wrong, they go home.
Loose alliances form for no reason other than the fact that certain contestants like hanging out with each other more. There have been no hookups so far, but there are a couple of Georgians who might have eyes for each other because they’re both from Georgia, like how in The Lobster the main couple hooked up because they were both near-sighted.
Why I’m on board: This show is so incredibly low-stakes, I don’t think the contestants even care that much about winning. Their apathy is refreshing.
Closing thoughts: I’m 100% going to keep watching this, but I also implore you not to waste any of your time on Earth consuming this show.
Money Talks
Credit card debt intensifies. . .
I’m gearing up to make some intense home decor purchases, but in the meantime, here are some smaller buys:
Italic White Tank Top — this store slaps. It’s all unbranded basics that use the same manufacturers as companies like Lululemon, Stella McCartney, etc. Super high quality at like, Old Navy prices. This is my referral code for 15% off ;)
Depiller — lint is taking over my life!
Ficus — my roommate and I got an adorable Ficus now that we are officially in Queens for another year (#IAmQueensBoulevard). But much like Kylie’s with her baby, the name is TBD as we look to properly capture his essence.
Earlier this week I wrote a sad boy essay about turning 25 (hence our fun-sized Thursday issue), which my sister described as “a great first attempt” at personal essay writing. In other words, I won’t be taking meetings with Random House any time soon.
If you missed it, you can check it out here!
Skinny Soundbites
Half-baked mini thoughts
This week I’m reporting live from TikTok (mostly), where celebs were being not at all like us.
Sabrina Carpenter (that blonde girl who always made me doubt) is saving McDonald’s for a special occasion. She did a food video with LAD Bible and refused to eat the provided McMuffin, claiming she has never eaten McDonald’s “in her whole life” (sus) and is waiting to reach a “specific goal” before she ever touches it. She wouldn’t reveal what the goal is, but in my heart I know it’s winning a Grammy. So she may never get to indulge in a perfectly limp salty fry.
Drew Barrymore loves the rain. Nothing makes her happier than quite literally dancing in the pouring rain. Is she parodying herself? Is she actually TikToking from the courtyard of a mental facility on her mandatory daily wellness walk? Unclear.
Amanda Seyfried also popped in during her Dropout Emmy campaign to whine about not getting cast as Glinda in the Wicked movie musical. Not to bring up the Les Mis movie for the second week in a row, but we all saw her flop as Cosette — even she admits it was bad! I don’t care how much coaching you’ve had, thinking you can “hit those notes” as well as Ariana Grande is a criminal offense. When Ari sang “he didn’t say I couldn’t sing” on Victorious it was a cultural reset. When Amanda sang “Honey, Honey” in Mamma Mia, we nodded politely.
Prekend Wrapped
What the fuck is a prekend?
Reading: “Christine Quinn Has Caviar for Breakfast” (NYT)
Watching: The Rehearsal (HBO) — Nathan Fielder’s new show, it’s like Nathan For You on crystal meth.
Eating: A cupcake, Anne Hathaway style.
