Oh Jordan Knight. Let go of this business. It was cool that the New Kids came back for a minute, but this whole “let’s do a tour and allow our sweaty, premenopausal female fans grind up on us” is kind of embarrassing for everyone.

And Donnie Wahlberg? I’m sorry, I just can’t take the guy who played the “freak” in Sixth Sense as a serious rapper. All I can see is the dude standing in his stained tighty-whities, murmuring “Do you know why you’re afraid when you’re alone? I do. I do.”

This weekend, I am living in the past.

Last night, by a strange twist of fate, I ended up at the Happy Days off Broadway musical, where I spent a few hours trying to figure out whether they were making fun of Happy Days or celebrating it, and consequently, trying to decide whether I wanted to stay till the end of the show or just leave and go get blindingly drunk at a nearby bar. I could never decide– I don’t think the cast could either. All I know is  that through two and a half hours of lyrics like “I’ll take you dancing on the moon,” no one jumped a single freaking  shark, and that’s just plain annoying.

Later today, I’ll be going to see a Star Trek movie based on the original series, which is something I haven’t done since 1991.

All this retro craziness began Friday morning when the New Kids on the Block performed “Hangin’ Tough” on the Today Show to a crowd of screaming women and gay men–just like old times. I watched this and had instantaneous post traumatic flashbacks of the first concert I ever went to, which was, of course, a NKOTB concert. I went with my friend Yari, who got so excited when they came on stage that she choked me until I blacked out. We were in the third grade.

I was always a Jon girl, and it’s nice to see that, like Harison Ford in that Tomb scene at the end of Last Crusade, I have chosen wisely. He’s aged well and doesn’t reek of having pickled his liver in pills and booze the way the rest of them have… with the exception of Jordan. Jordan seems like his addictions would trend more towards Botox and oxygen bars.

Oh, and Danny still looks like a monkey.

Well, got to go tease my bangs, put on my new Roos, and head out to Topkapi so I can buy some new slap bracelets.

• Lohan falls and fractures her left wrist at a Fashion Week party. She’s claiming that the host of the party, Milk Studios, wasn’t careful enough in preventing people from slipping, an egregious oversight they allowed by letting her drunk ass in.
• Pret-a-porter was a never a strong point at Fashion Week.
• Tara Reid gets a breast reduction, because, you know, that’s the problem.
• An uber-drunk Mark McGrath barges into the wrong Las Vegas hotel room, wonders where his hookers, music career went.
• Jordan Knight’s Wal-Mart record-signing extravaganza doesn’t have quite the turn-out he’d hoped for. Unless, you know, he’d hoped for a record-signing extravaganza with fewer than five attendees. In which case, rock on, dude.