Tuesday, October 2, 2012

reading rainbow

I love to read...I really do. The latest thriller, congressional reports, blogs, magazines, Basel III for dummies. You name it, I'll read it. I guess I'm from the old school where reading is knowledge and everyone knows from GI Joe that knowledge is power. So inside the knowledge that the October issues of Elle and Vogue provide, both had things I felt like I needed to mention.

First up, Vogue had a huge spread on Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz. I could only make it through about half of it, mostly turned off at the very beginning showing what a great mom she is by having 2 of her 3 children running around her congressional office while she gave the interview. It reads like most congress interviews - she's super special and super smart and she's the best person for the job. I have to wonder if her opponent in the 20th district of Florida will get the same fan fare from Vogue? Isn't that a rule somewhere? Actually, I don't really care about any of that because I mostly wanted to highlight what one might look like before the Vogue stylist gets to you....
And then after....
I really couldn't believe the pictures when I read it. I think I stared at her pic for a good 5 minutes before declaring that the american people should pay for her blow outs every damn day. She looks fantastic. I'm totally going to ignore the fact that she states that she hated herself when she was a size 8 and had no energy and that, praise be, she is a size 2 now. 
Another thing that will make you VOL - vomit out loud (totally copywritting my genius), this Dear E. Jean letter. I think E. Jean is a hack who sits around and writes these ricidulous "dear abby" type of situations that would never occur in a million years. Like, dear E. Jean, my boyfriend has no job, no car, and no money. He's been living off of me for a year. I totally love him tho. What to do?" - signed I'm a frittata in everywhere, usa. And then E. Jean will give her some stupid fake advice, like, it's totally okay. Just let him sit his fat ass on your couch watching Regis and Kelly and eventually he will wise up. RIGHT. Whatever...off subject. Read here and see if you can contain your emotions till the end....

Dear E. Jean: I’m a 34-year-old Internet entrepreneur and angel investor. Can you help me find a woman? What I’m looking for is a life partner— not the "mother of my children." Anyone who aspires to be a housewife is automatically eliminated. The women I fall for typically intimidate men. I suppose the easiest way to summarize is to say that I’m seeking a smarter, hotter, younger, female version of myself (smile). I’m cognizant of the fact that ultimately I’ll fall in love with the woman and not the checklist. So without further ado, here’s the perfect girl for me:

•Out-of-this-world intelligent and passionate

•Ambitious and extremely independent with eclectic and diverse interests

•Not needy, high-maintenance, jealous, or requiring constant attention (I suppose it goes with “extremely independent,” but it’s worth mentioning)

•Very adventurous—loves to backpack around China, for example

•Supersexual and sexually adventurous, multiorgasmic through vaginal sex

•On the Pill


•Very thin (but not because she’s starving herself or has food issues—I want someone who will be thin her entire life)

•Small breasts (usually come with "very thin")

•Gorgeous (symmetrical face and features)

•Loves big dogs (but not small dogs or cats)

•Atheist, agnostic, or not religious




•Does not want kids in the next five years
•Is in her twenties
•Plays tennis very well, helicopter skis, and is dying to learn how to kiteboard
•Speaks French perfectly
•Plays video games (maybe I am asking for a bit much here :) )
Historically, the women who’ve been the best girlfriends for me have been entrepreneurs, lawyers, consultants, doctors, bankers, writers, university professors. That’s not to say there aren’t extremely smart, passionate, ambitious girls who are models, work in marketing or PR, or teach K–12, but it’s just less likely. From a looks perspective, I’m pretty agnostic when it comes to hair color, eye color, etc., but I do have very specific tastes: They run to Kate Beckinsale, Diane Kruger, Izabel Goulart, Eva Green, Joanna Krupa, and Odette Annable. I’m also including the pics of my most serious exes so you get a sense of what the girls I really liked look like. Where can I find her? —The Great Gatsby
E. Jean’s note to readers: When I mentioned the "multiorgasmic vaginal sex" requirement to a friend, she said, "Ha, ha, what an asshole."

"But he’s one of the richest men in New York!" I said. “He has too high an opinion of himself,” she said. "Naw," I replied. "The man’s simply saying what most men are thinking but are too politically correct to admit."

Anyway, I’ve met this fellow. After a wild midnight dinner at Cipriani with a half-dozen tech-start-up guys, I vaguely recall asking him what he was "looking for" and promising to "set him up." Three weeks later he pinged me his list. And now…my answer:
Gatsby, You Handsome Idiot: You made your first million two years out of Harvard. Run the search for your "life partner" the way you run your business. Hire a researcher, a PR director, and a COO, and put them to work recruiting. By Thanksgiving you’ll be kiteboarding off Fiji with a flat-chested tennis player. Now, shall we break it down?

The Researcher registers on Match, JDate, eHarmony, OkCupid, and the like, slogs through the thousands of profiles, and selects promising candidates. (This process is so tedious I suggest you hire two interns at $25 an hour each to assist.) The researcher also scouts prospects by dropping by the ladies’ lounge in Bergdorf’s; attending parties at the Harvard Club; and making appearances at gallery openings, polo matches, Stanford charity runs, croquet competitions, fashion shows, and political fundraisers; and creates a master list of 24-year-old Parisian nymphomaniacs who run corporations. (As this list of candidates will amount to only five women, the researcher will "broaden the base.")
The PR Director gets you invited to posh parties, arranges for flattering stories about you to appear in The New York Times, and puts out the word that you’re giving an Aston Martin to the person who keeps the most women away from you. (This counterintuitive move will inspire the imaginations of ladies around the world.)
The Chief Operating Officer, aka your matchmaker, vets the top 40 women nominated by the researcher and PR person, adds three or four selections of her own, and arranges the introductions. When choosing a matchmaker, go with the best: Amber Kelleher-Andrews at Kelleher International or Amy Andersen at Linx Dating. They handle high-profile humans whose lists of demands make yours look like Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s. If you want a younger, cooler matchmaker, try my little Tawkify.com.
P.S. About those photos of your extomatoes: I was braced for inhuman beauty. After a glimpse, I can say I'll eat this four-pound September ELLE if you don’t find a woman with whom you can be happy. The ladies in these pictures are lovely, but it's clear you prize intellectual and sexual chemistry above appearance. I like you the better for it! Give me your hand. Good luck!

So basically this douche wants a supermodel that doesn't speak (unless it's french!), eat, hates God, barely breathes, and can jump out of a helicopter on demand. Ladies - if ya'll know anyone that fits this description, give a holler to E. Jean.

And I'm out on this dreary Tuesday,
photo: vogue

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