Real Housewife of NYC Ramona Singer Hates Africans

We just wanted to come back from our semi-vacation from this blog to put up a headline like this. Looks like Ramona Singer of the Real Housewives of New York City blew off hosting an event to raise funds for African children suffering from HIV/AIDS.

According to this article, she'd been prodding her assistant to call the party throwers and come up with all sorts of excuses not to host the thing. Our best guess is that her final excuse, the deal-sealer, was something like: "tell them I'm out of the planet. No, tell them I have bees in my closet. No, tell them my deck chairs rioted last night."

Anyhoo, the brave, the very noble, the very AIDS-educated scientist and world policy-maker Sonja Morgan (a Real Housewives co-star) stepped up to the hosting podium. And then fell down drunk while demonstrating her identity with Africans by doing the running man. But the brass balls award must go back to Singer. After rattling off all her reasons why she couldn't be there to host the event, she found out Sonja was hosting, and called the organizers to book a ticket as a guest! Wow.

We know three things. We know Ramona Singer's condemned soul is going to be everywhere proclaiming her innocence. We know the organizers of this Colors of Hope should feel deep shame for even asking a Real Housewife to host anything. We know children in Africa are shaking their heads and burying their faces into their hands.

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Almost as if they were striving to be the creepiest, sleaziest, most opportunistic company on the planet, Norton, the creators of the anti-virus spyware and malware programs, have actually honed in on Lindsay Lohan's legal troubles to promote their product. And somehow they got Lohan to play along! Well, not somehow, they paid her! Still...this is as sleazy an approach as you can get.

Buy our product so you can cyberstalk and rubberneck the Lindsay Lohan train wreck and still sleep the deep, quiet slumber of a person not worried about viruses. I need to go wash. Check out this press release. Not even her dad would do this. We think.

How To Survive Stony Brook Southampton's Summer Writing Conference

Today kicks off Stony Brook Southampton's annual backslapping festival: the summer writing conference, and it all starts with keynote speaker Lorrie Moore. After that, it kicks up a notch with Pulitzer Prize-winning author Elizabeth Strout and Sag Harbor native Colson Whitehead. Returning to the conference are a mix of visiting writers and Stony Brook Southampton faculty members such as Roger Rosenblatt, Kaylie Jones, Melissa Bank, Peter Hedges, Thomas Lux and former U.S. poet laureate Billy Collins. The full list of faculty and workshops are dumped on a release posted here at Hamptons.com


In the interest of full disclosure (and to effectively inform this blog post) it should be noted that I am a graduate of the Stony Brook Southampton MFA program in Creative Writing and have hands-on experience dealing with some of the aforementioned named "faculty," dating back to when Frank McCourt and Peter Matthiesson were part of the program. McCourt has since died. Matthiesson is 83 and sick of talking to people. (probably.)


Here's a survival guide for all you aspiring writers and MFA candidates currently primping, tweazing, hair-gelling, and printing out fresh pages of your latest novel "just in case."


Don't:

• print out fresh pages of your latest novel/chapbook/play "just in case." There is no just in case. They don't care. Not really. Now, if you have a wine spritzer balanced on a tray, they care. Really.
• tell anyone, under any circumstances, that your book is a "slice of life."
• ask for their help with anything specific. In the 50+ years combined of experience in publishing and literati, they haven't met a single writer, agent, editor, publisher, or proofreader that they can introduce you to. This doesn't sound possible, but you might as well believe it, because if the truth is otherwise, they ain't sharing.
• tell any of the male writers that you adore his work. This is especially true if you're a doe-eyed, apple-cheeked female MFA student. They will open up the world to you, but first...a drink at the bar?
• invite any of them to an open mic or student reading. They don't care. Not really. Better you live inside the cocoon of your delusions than endure the heartbreak of the inevitable blow-off. (Note: some will do it more harshly than others. See: Rosenblatt.)
• ask long-winded and semi-autobiographical questions during the Q & A period. Not only do they not care, your fellow audience members don't care either. You can ask Whitehead how he maintained proper emotional distance while writing "Sag Harbor" without telling him your cousin's best friend's girlfriend at the time was an 8th-grade classmate of his.
• ask "what advice would you give an aspiring writer?" during a Q & A. This is a complete masturbatory allie-oop question that will only be met with witty, sarcastic, faux-existential, jerk-off answers, and will at worst provide a writer with a golden opportunity to share how their genius was discovered. (An example? Sherman Alexie answered the question by saying the only thing a writer needs is money for postage stamps.)
• tell any of them about your literary aspirations. They're going to say "that's ambitious of you," and you're going to take it for what it is: rank condescension.
• believe that by running copies for Melissa Banks, or picking up Roger Rosenblatt's laundry, or dropping off Elizabeth Strout at the airport is going to get you published. It's going to get you to a gas station to refill your tank.
• believe that shoving a manuscript in a writer's gut is going to get you published. It's going to get you kept in the dark about where the after-reading-party is going down.

Do:

• embrace your own arrogance. Of course your writing is much more revolutionary and game-changing than theirs, and you'll get your chance to prove it. Don't grovel. Don't falsely stroke their egos because you feel it's the nice thing to do.
• ask broad and abstract questions during any Q& A period. "How do you write female characters so well?" is a good one. Also, "do you write every day?" And, "describe your process. Do you hand write, and then type it out?"
• drink heavily and try to hook up with a fellow conference attendee. I'm putting out personal bonus points if you can peel Melissa Banks' panties, but that's as far as it goes with faculty-student co-mingling.
• hide your envy. There is nothing more embarrassing and eye-rolling than an MFA student popping off at a reading or after-party about how much more talented he is than X, who everyone is surrounding at the moment. For the record: "popping off" includes shaking one's head, rolling one's eyes, looking bored while clapping, leaving the room when X is about to entertain everyone with a story, or verbally shredding X's latest tome while out of earshot of X. We know where it's coming from. We all feel the sting of watching a writer that isn't you sign autographs, take pictures, and control the floor of a room. Keep it to yourself. Scream inside your car. Write it in a journal entry. It's fuel for your ambitions, not to burn off and look like a jealous fool while doing it.
• recognize your inherent right to barroom pugilism. Or, to add as a "don't": don't take shit from anyone. There's a good chance, particularly if you're a male writer, that another male writer is going to say something that is so enraging, so caustic and dismissive that you're going to feel like the unpublished writer is getting picked on by the published one. It's more a case of a published writer getting so stroked for so long, he feels he's above an ass-whooping. If this happens to you, don't hesitate. Punch him right in his fucking face.
• recognize, of course, when a writer isn't picking a fight; he's just having a little fun with you. In this instance, probably a good idea not to punch him in his face.

Godspeed, you young and hopeful scribes! E-mail us at news5525@gmail.com with any updates or embedded reports from the conference.

What's One More Hamptons Rubbernecker?

International man of intrigue, blogger extraordinnaire, world traveling business mogul, fashion authoritarian, Egyptian influencer, and creator of all things, Francesco has surprisingly never been to the Hamptons. He plans to rectify this grave injustice this coming weekend. From his blog "Men's Fashion by (of course) Francesco," he cops to never visiting the east end...:

"But now, there is a reason to go: the Simon Spurr Fall 2010 Men’s Preview and In-Store Trunk Show, hosted by designer Simon Spurr at Blue & Cream, 60 On The Circle, East Hampton, New York. The event will take place on Saturday, July 17th, 6-8PM with complimentary cocktails by Svedka."

Go there, if for no other reason than to see Francesco in the flesh. His life "can best be characterized by an intricate mosaic of various languages, cultures, educational backgrounds, and work experiences of nearly 25 years."

He sounds really interesting, and I'm sure he'd love to share his story with you. And by share, we mean tell you all about his blog. Click on his name above to read more about this fascinating Hamptons rubbernecker. Then yawn. And punch a puppy.

Relief On The Way For Golddiggers

Here's a stock tip. Invest in Swiss banks. They're about to get a ton of phone calls, thanks to a measure sponsored by Sag Harbor's Albany representative Fred Thiele that will turn New York into a "no-fault" divorce state. (See: the bitch gets half?)

It used to be (and for the moment still is) that if a couple got divorced, they had to duke it out in court and find out which one was at fault for the breakup. Understanding that marriages fail for multiple nuanced reasons and more often than not, both parties contributed to the breakdown, there are still factors that New York State considers when awarding divorces and divorce settlements, such as adultery, or abandonment. This bill would negate those factors and split everything down the middle.

Thiele says he wants the measure passed because it complicates couples who have agreed to an amicable divorce. Hey Fred. There's no such thing! Even divorces that settle out of court are negotiations that neither party is all that satisfied with because they'd rather their spouse died in a fiery car crash.

Just look at Christie Brinkley and Peter Cook. That poor bastard tried to have his day in court after Brinkley went on a multiple-day-testimony bus throwing tirade, crying and pointing out all of Mr. Cook's little perversions. But suddenly when it became his turn to talk, a miraculous out-of-court settlement popped up demanding Cook's silence from here on forward. Funny how that worked. This bill would rob us of that bit of made-for-TV-drama. And it will let cheatin' hearts off the hook and well supplied in their ex's money.

You can practically hear the stampede of high heels running to the nearest voting booth. So, yeah. IPO. Drop a dime into every off-shore bank you can research.

Meet The Guy You Never Want To Be

So Vanity Fair has this F-Marry-Kill sort of Q & A going with "party planner to the stars" Colin Cowie. Who? Exactly. Which begs the follow-up question, can some bold, brave party planner out there step up and call themselves "party planners to the average people?" Because it sure seems like every party planner bills themselves as a planner to the stars. They can't all be planners to the stars can they? I mean, at that point, couldn't gas stations just say they're "unleaded suppliers to the stars?"

Anyhoo, the Q & A. Yikes. This guy is as metro-sexual as they come. Not only does he list designer sun-screen and an extra large towel as "essential" items to bring to the beach, he even calls out the brand of towel one should bring. Hermes.

Want highlights? He was actually asked what his "after-sun ritual was," and he actually had one. Curious? "Tons of any moisturizer, but I like Origins Ginger Souffle Whipped Body Cream."

He also has to wear Oliver Peoples sunglasses and wears a Brazilian cut bathing suit, so avoid Main Beach in East Hampton until he dies. Just being helpful.

Summer cocktail? "Cucumber Chill. A Vodka martini with muddled cucumber, lime, simple syrup, and elderflower."

Just cry mercy and I'll stop.

Favorite stationary? (yes, they truly asked him this, and, again, he truly had an answer.) "For the handwritten note, Ellen Weldon's over-scaled cards on thick paper stock with fabulous envelope liners."

Who inspires him? Nelson Mandela. Which makes sense. They have a lot in common. Cowie drives a black Mercedes CLK convertible, and Nelson Mandela...is black, so there.

Favorite Hamptons attire? "One loud element, like a fun printed trouser and a cotton t-shirt from Thom Sweeney."

OK, I hear you all climbing out onto your ledges, so I'll just throw in the kicker.

Song of the summer: "Too soon to tell. I'll know once I have been to St. Tropez, Capri, Sardinia, and Mykonos by mid-August.

Why don't you just ask Nelson Mandela, Colin? Yuck. Kids: dream of bigger things to become.

Parrish Art Museum Shaves The Area

As a follow-up to our recent blog post about the Parrish's plans to relocate off of Jobs Lane in Southampton Village, it looks like the museum has mowed a gigantic space in the middle of its future Water Mill site and is getting all juiced up for a July 19 groundbreaking ceremony.

According to 27East, the ceremony will be closed to the public, but the Parrish is expected to announce its timeline for the new museum space. Before you get all pissy about them, apparently the museum attempted to renovate its existing space to make more room and expand its collection and was met with all sorts of aggravation from village residents. Well played, villagers. Now the museum is going to vacate a beautiful building and leave it open for some 20-something fashion designer from Manhattan to totes take it over and make it a chic couture space.

What are we getting in return? A museum in the middle of a field that sounds, by its description, more like a duck farm stable than an art museum.