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Except maybe this one. Classic.
Mergers & Acquisitions
In fact, the book is good enough to almost make up for Dana's ... unfortunate ... first name, which, let's just be honest, is not one many ladies would normally fantasize shouting out mid-coitus. Of course, names can be changed (D. Vachon, anyone?) - but first novels are forever.
Update: my coverage of Dana's book party on the Huffington Post.
My conclusion? Let's put it this way: I could get used to a relentless cycle of going out in gorgeous dresses which cost 3.5 times my rent (just an estimate - b/c despite my best efforts to be gauche, I couldn't find a price tag). But then again, who couldn't? yawn.
Back in the real world, I'm currently wearing couture de Gap flannel tartan PJs (on sale!) and an old Georgetown tee. Because that is how I roll. High/low, baby! Er ... High/Low/Low/Low. Baby.
In my grandmother's coat from the 50s, which she gave me when I was 16. Nothing like vintage you actually found in an attic. Not from your stylist.
More photos after the jump.
Yes, I lost a bet. No, I will not tell you what the bet was. Suffice it to say, it was a big one. And although I am a winner, the small metal ... thing ... that is lodged within the circular indentation in my lower abs is a now constant reminder that even winners can lose. And be forced to wear diamonds cubic zirconium in their body crevices.
I recorded the event for posterity, so you too can witness my face as the angry tat & piercing lady eagerly shoves a needle through my skin. She loved every moment, let me tell you. I, meanwhile, am contemplating hanging out in Staten Island, where I can bare my now bejeweled belly with pride. Jealous? That's what I thought.
The final result. Classy, eh? Britney Spears, WATCH OUT!
Anyway, today I found myself absentmindedly asking if someone's 21-year-old brother was cute, which is ridiculous for myriad reasons, not the least of which is that I'm 16 and he's far too old for me. And suddenly, I had a revelation - my problems today all stem from reading this single book - #8: Boy-Crazy Stacey. Oh yeah, and the entire Sweet Valley High series. Where were my parents?? How could they have let me consume this drivel???? WHY DID STACEY SPELL HER NAME WITH A GODDAMN EXTRANEOUS "E"??
Ann M. Martin, wherever you are, we need to talk. I was a feminist! You ruined me!
Although I suppose I should consider the alternative ... Gossip Girls, anyone? Yikes. I may be boy-crazy, but I didn't have a coke problem at the age of fifteen. By 17, though ... oh wait. Nope. Not then either.
Nothing like starting off Monday morning with a healthy dose of holier-than-thou-kids-today nostalgia.
Lilly, working it. Owning it. Showing it love.
With the poop-joke loving Bill Schultz (and clown puppet, to my left. because that's normal), after FoxNews' Redeye taping last night. Apparently not everyone got the "wear green for St. Patrick's Day memo" ...
With the indefatigable Greg Gutfeld, who actually ate a green bagel on air last night. Probably a first. Maybe not the most impressive first - but a first nonetheless.
I have absolutely no idea what was funny. But surely something must have been. And I guarantee if that was the case, it wasn't a joke of mine.
Happy St. Patrick's Day, blah, etc. May you vomit green!
I say that in a loving way, of course.
This week, major goals. Well. Goal, singular. I vow to say one thing - just one - that actually resembles a coherent thought and/or argument.
Julia Allison: Not afraid to dream big.
And now, enjoy the mirth-centric screenshots from last week ...
with the much, much funnier - and blonder - Noelle Hancock
Because obviously no one parties harder than the midwestern folks on the North Shore of Chicago. (Ooo, condescending New York attitude, check!)
They do have a very nice lake, however.
Anyway. So New York magazine's blog has this fairly amusing feature, called (duh) "21 Questions," where they interview New Yorkers of varying consequence about random things. Since I won't be of consequence for at least two-five years (according to the Staten Island psychic I met last week), I thought that I'd go ahead and just, you know, interview myself. Um ... right. It sounded like a cooler idea in my head. But whatever, it's already done, so I'm posting it.
Name: Julia Allison
Age: 16. Or 25. Depending on who you talk to …
Job: ex-dating columnist, AM New York; writer for Maxim & Cosmo; on-air commentator about all things fluffy.
Neighborhood: Gramercy. ish. Well … a little bit east – 21st and 2nd. I’ve dubbed it, not that cleverly, “Ghetto Gramercy.”
Who's your favorite New Yorker, living or dead, real or fictional?
Carrie Bradshaw, of course. Do I really have another choice? After all, it’s her fault I’m I was a NYC dating columnist. Thanks for making it seem glamorous! Liar.
What's the best meal you've eaten in New York?
The Soy Gouda sandwich from Liquiteria on 11th and 2nd avenue. I eat one every day. Maybe twice a day. It's all I ever eat - they think I’m insane. I probably am, from all that soy.
In one sentence, what do you actually do all day in your job?
Frantically bail out my email inbox (publicists, spam), procrastinate writing my column procrastinate writing other stuff, frantically bail out my email inbox some more (editors, spam), dance around naked in my living room “thinking” of column ideas, frantically bail out my email inbox (boyfriends, spam).
Where do you get your coffee?
When I drink coffee (only in emergencies), from a cheesy, sugar laden machine at my corner deli, which I actually think is named “Corner Deli.” Mostly I drink beet juice. No, seriously. I do.
What's the last thing you saw on Broadway?
RENT, for it’s 10th anniversary. I’d seen it before, but never in New York.
Do you give money to panhandlers?
No. I’m a journalist. Panhandlers make more money than me.
What's your drink?
The kind bought by men.
How often do you prepare your own meals?
Every day in the first year I lived here, and never since then. Although I did put some frozen spinach in the microwave just last week. That was big for me.
What's your favorite medication?
Multi-Herb, Multi-Vitamin, prescribed by a dietician “to keep ya regular.” Let me assure you, it works.
What's hanging above your sofa?
A giant graphic portrait of me done by the guy who also does IKEA’s art, a one-year anniversary present from my ex-boyfriend. It's less narcissistic than it sounds, I promise.
How much is too much to spend on a haircut?
Anything more than $70 makes me hyperventilate.
When's bedtime?
Midnight if I’m being good, 4 am if I’m not.
Brunch: pro or con?
Hell yes, every weekend without fail I get an everything bagel, scallion cream cheese and nova lox from Essa Bagel on 21st and 1st. I die a little from happiness each time. Or maybe that's the feeling I get from my arteries slowly clogging.
What's your thread count?
I have the most life-changing “beech sheets” from the Chelsea Bed Bath & Beyond. They don’t even have threads. They’re made of air.
What do you hate most about living in New York?
The freaking noise! At 7 am! On a Saturday!! Car alarms, ambulances, jackhammers, children shrieking. What the HELL!?!? WHAT ARE YOU SHRIEKING ABOUT? MOVE TO BROOKLYN, MOTHERF--KERS!!!!!! I’m just saying.
What's your brand of jeans?
Seven. I think they make me look like I have a Brazilian butt. I don’t know exactly what that means, but I know it’s good.
When was the last time you drove a car?
When I borrowed my ex's to see what "driving around the city" was like. It didn’t go well. I really don’t miss tickets, accidents, or frantically seeking parking spots. Or car insurance. Or … did I mention accidents?
Who should be the next president?
Dear god, let it be a Hillary/Barack ticket.
Times, Post, or Daily News?
Gawker, because I have an attention span like a six year old boy on three cans of Diet Coke. And then the Times, and after that the Post (Page Six), but only occasionally. I won’t pay for it though – I skim it for free while I’m waiting for my Soy Gouda. It’s not the quarter. It’s the principle.
Yankees or Mets?
Um … I wouldn’t know a Yankee from a Met if I were naked in the bedroom with them.
What makes someone a New Yorker?
They’re ruthlessly ambitious. Or ambitiously ruthless?
Although if one more of my friends (and by "friends" I mean people I tangentially know in media) says they've been on it/are going on it/will soon be a "nightlife" correspondent for it, I'm going to start calling RedEye the Town Bicycle of cable news shows. HAVE SOME STANDARDS, Greg!
But start tomorrow.
The subject matter was Geek Love - in other words, why one should love geeks, how geeks are good in bed, have huge schlongs, etc. Whatever, I'm sending it over to the ladies at Cosmo. They love anything that talks about ... uh ... schlongs. Is that even how you spell that word? I think it's the first time I've ever typed it. And hopefuly the last.
I don't think I've been up that early in ... well ... maybe ever? My only question is, who the fuck else is up at 7:20 am to watch it??? Besides my grandmother.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Whatever, Anna Nicole Smith's story NEEDS TO BE TOLD. And if, by god, they tell it at 7:20 in the morning, SO BE IT.
I CAN HARDLY HANDLE THE EXCITEMENT.
In fact, I practiced my sober "Anna-Nicole-funeral" facial expressions last Tuesday on FoxNews' endearing new show RedEye, hosted by the insanely energetic (without crack! I think!) Greg Gutfeld... 
Despite being on the show the entire hour, I never actually said anything of substance, but I did laugh a lot at everyone's jokes. Which is why they liked me, I think. Perhaps if I had learned that lesson earlier in life, I'd have a few more fans and a few less, uh ... non-fans. Smile and nod, right?
with the adorable "ombudstud" Andrew Levy.