I know, I know.
Here at Evil Beet, we decided not to cover the story of Aliza Shvartz (Best. Name. Ever.), the Yale undergrad who claimed she impregnated herself and aborted the fetuses regularly as some form of bizarre art project.
We didn’t cover it because I figured the story went one of two ways:
1) It was all some retarded prank (an “herbal” abortion? Um, right …) or
2) This girl was getting a ton of press coverage for something I feel is morally reprehensible. You know, I’m all about a woman’s right to choose, but to intentionally get pregnant with the knowledge that you will, for sure, intentionally abort the fetus, is disgusting in so many ways, and then to use the fact that you did this to score free press? Disgusting, and I won’t have any part of it.
Fortunately, #1 was the correct answer.
The whole thing was a prank. Er, um, excuse me: the whole thing was “performance art.”
Yale University issued this statement tonight:
Ms. Shvarts is engaged in performance art. Her art project includes visual representations, a press release and other narrative materials. She stated to three senior Yale University officials today, including two deans, that she did not impregnate herself and that she did not induce any miscarriages. The entire project is an art piece, a creative fiction designed to draw attention to the ambiguity surrounding form and function of a womanâ€™s body.
She is an artist and has the right to express herself through performance art.
Had these acts been real, they would have violated basic ethical standards and raised serious mental and physical health concerns.
So, um, yeah.
We didn’t fall for it. Or make a huge fuss about it.
That’s more than I can say for some other bloggers.
April 17, 2008 at 9:04 pm by Evil Beet
I’ve gotten so many comments and emails about this that I figured I should just make a general announcement about it.
I LOVED doing American Idol recaps. It was incredibly fun, and a great outlet for all my venom. And I’m delighted to find how much you all liked them, and how much you miss them. It fills my evil little heart with pride.
Through a variety of strange series of events, the three places I have lived in since late January (yes, I’ve moved around a lot) didn’t have very good access to television. Like, at my dad’s place, there was a TV set, but no actual cable access. We could only watch DVDs. Part of my dad’s grand scheme for “mindful living.” And at my new place in Seattle, there’s a TV, but no DVR or TiVo, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to turn the closed captioning off. So watching TV is almost painful out here.
I plan to remedy this situation for next season, and bring back the recaps, but I’ve honestly only seen a handful of episodes this season myself.
April 17, 2008 at 8:52 pm by Evil Beet
All of a sudden, it seems like Eva Amurri is hitting the red carpet at every event the city of New York can churn out. I see this girl everywhere these days.
Here she is at Conde Nast’s “Hot List” party.
What’s the verdict on the dress? It seems like this long, loose sleeve look is really in right now, but it takes a hell of a woman to walk the red carpet in a dress based almost entirely on the concept of horizontal stripes.
April 17, 2008 at 5:47 pm by Evil Beet
Insiders in the New York area report that the casting call for Paris Hilton’s upcoming reality show — where she’s going to choose a new BFF — had dismal results. They say only 40 to 50 people showed up.
Said Paris on her MySpace page: there were â€œNO open calls for the showâ€ and â€œevery event is exclusive and hand-picked by invitation only … I didn’t want my potential BFFs to have to wait in a long open-call lines.â€
In fairness, this is probably true. I did some research over on RealityWanted.com, which passed me over to parisbff.com, which said the following:
We are coming to the following cities and holding â€œMeet and Greet Mixersâ€ where we will scout potential cast members who will be invited to attend Interviews with our casting directors on the following days. To be invited to the Mixers, email firstname.lastname@example.org with Name, Pic and Phone Number.
To be scheduled for an interview, apply on www.ParisBff.com/viplist.
Tragically, the application cut-off was April 15, or I swear to you guys I would be preparing my application tape right this moment. Maybe I should send them an email just in case? I’ve never wanted to be on a reality TV show in my whole life, but I totally want to do this one.
April 17, 2008 at 5:20 pm by Evil Beet
Meet Kimberly, who’ll be appearing on the upcoming season of The Real World, in Hollywood. (I thought they were done with that show?)
Kimberly hates ugly people, fat people, dumb people, bitches, ex-girlfriends, and a great deal of other folks.
Her accent is obnoxious. It’s not, like, that slow-paced, calming, lazy Southern drawl. It’s, like, if you took a Southern drawl and shot it up with speed and gave it a bright red Porsche and let it drive around LA for awhile.
Kimberly’s dream is to be famous.
Tragically for everyone involved, it looks like that dream’s coming true.
April 17, 2008 at 2:49 pm by Evil Beet
Ohhhhh, I remember the sex talk. I tried to avoid it forever. Whenever my mom would be like, “We need to have a serious conversation, Beet,” I’d be like, “I have anywhere else to be.” And sometimes I would just shout at her that I hated her and run away. At one point, she resorted to putting a copy of What’s Happening to My Body? in the bathroom cabinet. This made the bathroom cabinet taboo to me, and I refused to open it, even to get a fresh roll of toilet paper. I knew what was inside: that evil, evil book. I could seriously think of absolutely nothing worse than talking to my mother about sex, my menstrual period, my breasts, or anything even remotely similar.
This is when I was 11 or 12, and my mother was a stay-at-home mom. Today, my mother is a licensed sex therapist, and has painting of penises all over my old bedroom, which is now her office, and the shelves are packed with books with names like “The Female Orgasm” and “Navigating Oral Sex” and “Sisters,” which is a book of black-and-white nude, lesbianesque photographs, which a boyfriend once picked up on his very first visit to my mother’s house, thinking it had an innocent-enough title. “Oh,” he said, “This is porn.” My mom was like, “Oh, no, sweetheart. That’s art. If you want porn, it’s in the other room.” I very nearly died. Of laughter.
Anyway, Ashton Kutcher’s talking to Elle about having the sex talk with Demi Moore’s daughters, who I’m sure are delighted beyond words to have Ashton Kutcher giving them their sex talk. It would be like if Joey McIntyre had been there to talk to me about having sex at age 11. It just would have made the whole experience a lot more awesome.
â€œI knew that one of the girls had had sex and hadnâ€™t really talked to us about it, so I wanted to create an open forum for her. So over Christmas last year, we had a conversation about sex â€” all of us except Tallulah, the youngest â€¦ and one boyfriend was there.â€
Why doesn’t Tallulah get the sex talk?? She’s 14 years old! Who the hell isn’t having sex at 14 these days?
He also chats with the girls about weed:
â€œIâ€™ve learned how to talk to a kid about sex and drugs â€” pot in particular. â€¦ You canâ€™t try to conceal any of your own history. Because when they find out about you, you become a liar. â€¦ â€˜Youâ€™re not going to die,â€™ but I also told them that I have a lot of friends who I used to smoke pot with, and a lot of them are still just hanging out smoking pot.â€
Oh, Ashton. Come over to my place and talk sex and drugs to me. I’ll be an eager student.