The Lohdown: Lindsay Hospitalized

Let us all pray for Lindsay's quick recovery.

She's in the hospital now with a mysterious illness. Production of latest movie has stopped, she's rescheduling her cameo appearance on That 70's Show.

Lohan's publicist Leslie Sloan released information that Lindsay has a 103 degree fever.

It's gotta be stress.

The girl is filming Herbie during the day, working on her sitcom on the weekends, and recording her album at night. Who wouldn't be stressed out? The girl's a model of efficiency and applied talent.

Get better Lindsay. Don't rush the album. We can watch your "Rumors"; video on iTunes and watch Mean Girls on DVD in the meantime.

Note: If you're a subscriber or AOL member you can read more about this at Entertainment Weekly.

Ashlee Simpson's SNL fuck-up

*An open letter to Ashlee Simpson*

Dear Ashlee,

You can't sing. You can't improvise. You can't dance. You can't even perform with pre-recorded vocals.

It's official - you really don't have ANY talent. I've been willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your first single was fun, and unlike your sister, it hit number one on the Billboard chart. Congrats. You're famous only because you have a busty older blond sister (who breaths lyrics rather than sings them which is totally annoying by the way).

You wouldn't be here today if Jessica wasn't your sister. And it's outrageous (and egotistical) of you to say otherwise. It's almost as outrageous as saying you make "punk" music. YOU ARE SO POP MISS SIMPSON! Don't try to act like you're something other than a manufactured trend. You are anything but counter-culture like to claim to be.

You father markets you as the anti-Jessica, we get it. But unless you shave your head or make some really original music, you're still bubble gum pop. Your guitar heavy band only makes you guitar heavy bubble gum pop, not rock.

And what was with the whole Ryan Carraba thing? How could you date him? You know he's a woman right? He's hot but he's totally a chick. His hair even has more volume than yours. Never date a man with better hair than your own.

So if you want to be noticed, you can keep doing what she did last night on Saturday Night Live. It's bad publicity, but any publicity is good for you right now since you won't be making fans from your wide vocal range. Your lack of vocal expertise and weak song-writing ability only supports your role as a manufactured star with no talent.

Here's what happened in case you forgot. After singing "Pieces of Me" and going to commercial, your band started playing the exact same song for your second number. First the shock set in, the dubbed lyrics played as you stared into the camera. The song was going on and your lips were SO. NOT MOVING. You then walk off the stage and the band continues to play their hearts out. SNL goes to commercial half-way into the set. When the credits roll at the end of the show, you have the audacity to blame it on the band! You claim they started the wrong song which is why you bailed.

Um? Excuse me, Miss Simpson take some responsibility, you could have easily stopped them or at least made the whole thing into a joke. But you bailed. You bailed and your lip-sync vocals carried the song to it's bitter end when you quit. Get a real job. Or get voice lessons, I hear Hiliary Duff knows where you could go to hone your skills as a chanteuse.


--Atticus West

My Fork

Is it sad that I eat quickly, too quickly, and am so engrossed with dooce.com that when I finish my meal and look down ... my fork will only have three prongs instead of four?

It had four, I know it did, because I just washed it - good as new - before I started eating.

And don't ask me if I ate it. I have no idea. My Healthy-Choice-Country-Breaded-Chicken-meal-in-a-box delicacy didn't taste any crunchier than usual and honestly, I don't usually eat plastic.

Party like a Princess

Holiday Travel tip #34 from Atticus West

When booking a flight or a hotel, always be sure to select your appropriate title to embrace your inner celebrity.

Audioblog: Police Barricade

Help, the police have barricaded me in on campus! I can't get out, no one can. Okay, so I'm really not at the presidential debate. But I'm right outside trying desprately to get home in time for America's Next Top Model. Here's my (out of breath) recount watching 66 police officers race by with W in tow while running from the cops.

My First Presidential Debate, a photo album by Atticus West

The third Presidential debate is here. Outside my window I see MSNBC, CNN, and countless other camera crews from around the world running across campus.

MSNBC and CNN both have huge tents with booming cameras, crowds of students, and rerouted air conditioning (it's in the 90's today so, it's like official, winter's here). It feels a lot more like New Year's Eve and the last day of finals both rolled all into one. Every-time they air a piece the crowd goes wild. It sounds like a football game right outside my door.

So look for me on TV everyone!

Yep, I'm the cute one with the sun in my eyes. I'm voting for JFK!

Bush supporters are scared Kerry will win and actually do something as President. Suck that thumb, kiddo, Gorgie's going bye, bye.

And of course, what's a Presidential debate without an orange chicken?


Don't let my colleagues fool you: they speak German and Mandarin Chinese but not a lick of Spanish. We saw the sign and knew we had to have it!

We just found out that the Foo Fighters are opening for John Kerry today at the beach party. A beach in Arizona you say? Sure.

Some people don't vote ... but really, I only took this photo because of the cute boy walking my way. I'm more than just politically active, I'm shallow, too.

--Atticus West

Watch Team America, get a free sweatband

If there's any reason you should see Team America, a marionette movie premiering this Friday, make it for it's pivotal scene:

There are only three kinds of people: dicks, pussies, and assholes. Dicks fuck pussies who think they can control them. But that doesn't mean assholes are safe from dicks, dicks fuck assholes, too. In fact, pussies are a lot like assholes, they're only and inch and a half apart. But dicks and pussies have to be careful, because if they aren't then they'll both be covered in shit.

I don't care much for racism, classism, sexism, nationalism, etc ... except when it's equal opportunity bashing, like Strangers With Candy or this very movie. Then again, the song where the actor "Gives everyone AIDS" is so shocking, it's funny. Sad, isn't it?

Or something like that. It's more touching on the big screen ... um, like the fucking scene. Scary. Or the barfing scene. Scary. Or the plastic surgery fiasco. Scary.

And if you can, wait through the credits to hear a bonus song by our favorite Korean dictator.

So tell me this: What action movies has Helen Hunt done?

UPDATE: Here's the sweat band they gave away at the movie. Want one? Email me at atticuswest@yahoo.com. I'll pick a lucky winner and you can have your very own, complete with it's own plastic ziplock baggy.

Shoplifter

Getting arrested for shoplifting wasn't my plan for the day, or any day for that matter.

My friends were crafty for my birthday this year and bought me CDs from my Amazon wish list. Most of them didn't buy them online, but rather from Target and Best Buy.

Fast as I was to update the list, I still received two of the same CDs. Fortunately there was gift receipt attached to the duplicate. The return policy was clearly printed out on the front for my convenience. I taped the receipt to the top so I wouldn't lose it and waited for a new CD to catch my eye, one worth trading in the unused and unopened disc I kept on my desk.

Today I planned a trip to Best Buy, I grabbed the CD and drove into the next town to return it. I followed in a guy caring a car radio in box, stepped inside, and headed towards Customer Service. I planned to leave the CD there and look for a replacement like any other store would have you do.

Half and hour later, my patience for the unmoving line burst. When I was finally helped, the woman informed me I couldn't return the CD because I didn't come within 30 days of the purchase. (Note: the incomplete return policy did not include that handy piece of information on the front. On the back was the same policy with the 30 day stipulation. Bastards.) Furious and defeated I headed out towards the door. That's when it happened.

Doorman: Excuse me. Can I see your receipt?
Me: Oh, sure.
Doorman: Why didn't you stop when you came in?
Me: Huh?
Doorman: Where's the tag?
Me: What tag?
Doorman: How do I know you didn't take this from the store and bring in an old receipt?
Me: What? I came here to return a CD. I got two for my birthday but the woman at the counter said I couldn't.
Doorman: Oh really. And what did this "woman" look like.
Me: *perturbed* She's the short girl over there *points to customer service* next the blonde girl with really bad roots, you can't see here because she's short and there's someone in front of her.
Doorman: Why didn't you get a yellow tag when you came in?
Me: What tag?
Doorman: WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP WHEN YOU CAME IN?
Me: WHERE?
Doorman: HERE!
Me: *biting my teeth* There wasn't anyone here.
Doorman: THERE'S ALWAYS SOMEONE HERE.
Me: THERE WASN'T WHEN I CAME IN.

I DON'T STEAL! At this point I was ready to deck the guy. I can't believe I let a fuck'n turd get me mad, he so wasn't worth it. Yet he fuck'n accused me of stealing a fuck'n CD I already had. FUCK'N IDIOT! It wasn't my fault he stepped away from his post for the minute out of 2004 when I walked into his Best Buy. Fuckwad.

I got over it a few minutes later by cussing loudly, breathing deeply, a three hour gym routine, and watching The Prince & Me on DVD – something I swore never to watch. Oh, I rented with my own money you Best Buy fuck.

Electrolysis is for Everyone

Saved message, Tuesday, 11:50am.

Your new voice mail is sexy, man. I'm sitt'n here ... touching myself. Actually I took a pain pill and I 'm a Stepford wife right now. Because I'm having hair removed -- electronic hair removal -- which is painful.

So I took pain pill left over from my testicular surgery and I'm having a little glass of wine.

It's a spa and I love everyone here.

I'm gonna look beautiful when I leave - I may get some Botox!

Anyway is MISS YOU and uh ... call me. Bye.

If my friends didn't leave the best messages I would never check my voicemail at all. So I entertain them in two ways during my greeting to continue their honestly brutal updates. First, I change my greeting only when I'm sick. That way my voice is always three octaves lower than normal and I can pull off a professional masculine demeanor. Ha! But then I start laughing during the recording process - it's an absurd idea that I have a booming voice. They tend to get off on the chuckling; weirdos - I love 'em.

Marc Acito: hottie author

He wrote me back!

Hottie author Marc Acito responded to an email I sent him regarding this very site. I gave him a few links (as well as a nasty photo of yours truly) of which he checked enjoyed. Buy his book, damnit - not because he's cute or talented, but because he put me at the top of his fan-favorite list. Yay, I'm a groupie! And I get to see him in three weeks.

Thank you Pop Culture Junkies for making a boy's dream come true. (To see the picture that sealed the deal go here. I'm on the right, my shirt mysteriously revealing abs.)

He's got a boyfriend of 18 years or so. He also (inadvertently?) gave me his home and cell phone numbers. Hello! I'm a fan! Dare I call or will that automatically get me a restraining order?

--Atticus West

The Lohdown

An open letter to Hillary Duff:

Dear Miss Duff,

Lindsay Lohan appeared on the cover of GQ this week. After reading it, I felt more in awe of the girl. She's so 18; but her photos convey a women three times that age. How the heck does she do it?

Down one shelf and to the left sat a sickly looking issue of Blender Magazine with your mug gracing the cover. You wore a tight Mickey Mouse shirt and short reveling A-skirt. I really liked your photo where you sat among instruments with the tiara and pink dress. Lindsay's pictures, however, were more mature, more interesting. Yours were a bad rip-off of Britney Spears' Rolling Stone cover shoot from four years ago. It made me gag seeing you show some leg.

Your article reached of Lindsay Lohan. Sadly, Blender chose to run a pull quote of you saying "Sometimes I hate Lindsay Lohan!"

Please get over it. The red-head didn't even mention you in her article.

I hope you don't blow up. It must be hard pretending to be a natural blond (you look so much better as brunette). Truth be told, I was almost liking you, too. In fact, I was planning on seeing "Raise Your Voice" this Friday ...

... alright, my motives are mostly driven because Oliver James is in it.

But please, I fear for your sanity. You can't live by constantly feeling that there's someone better, prettier, and more talented than yourself. There always will be - just be yourself, don't let the competition bother you and keep on making movies with cute boys. That's all we ask of you.

Best,
Atticus West

(Thanks to Kyle for the wonderful new title!)

(BTW, Rumors by Lindsay is fuck'n fierce. The remix is all over on line top 40 stations, unfortunately not my own local station.)