…And Everything Is Going To The Beat

Can you tell I’m completely obsessed with Passion Pit right now? It’s a sickness. Every time I’ve felt down in the past month, if I can somehow manage to stumble my way to the stereo to put on Manners, my body/mind/spirit starts to perk up and I erupt into an impromptu dance party that immediately lifts my mood. It’s the weirdest thing. Passion Pit? More like Passion Prozac! Passion Paxil! Passion Wellbutrin! (Okay, so that one doesn’t exactly roll of the tongue, but you get the picture.) Before I inevitably embark on a million tangents, let me get some work-related announcements out of the way. I just posted a new “Music Is My Boyfriend” column…

Center Of My Own Attention

What’s that in the sky? Over there? Yeah, way up in the distance? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is it a giant hair-bow? Why, no! It’s pigs flying! I never thought I’d see the day. I fought it as long as I possibly could but what my ego wants, my ego gets. That said, I’m pleased to announced my newly created Formspring.me page. Yes, I’m embracing my inner Tyra Banks by joining the enough-about-me, more-about-me masses. Ask me anything! (i.e. Ever wonder what Robert Pattinson smells like? Not sure how to be a music journalist? Do you think I’m too old to watch iCarly?) Mosey over to http://www.formspring.me/lesliesimon and start asking!!

The Party Doesn’t Start ‘Til I Walk In

People, get ready ’cause there’s a big post a-coming! First up, I’d like to announce the winner of the last Twitter contest I did. Actually, let’s make that winners. I took so gosh-darn long to pick a winner, I thought it was totes appropriate to bestow the honor to two of my fave answers. If ya’ll remember, I asked you all to channel your inner small screen and tell me if you could live your life inside any TV show—sitcom, drama, sci-fi or otherwise—what would it be and why? As per usual, your answers were all eloquent and imaginary. (Duh, as if I would expect anything less from you guys!) That said, I have to…

Our Little Corner Of The World

For those of you smarty pants who are already following me on Twitter, you’ve probably seen some pretty dismal updates due to a pretty gnarly cold that has attempted to drag me to hell, Sam Raimi-style. No fear, though. I’m in the midst of waging a pretty impressive war on those pesky lil’ cells of bacteria and they don’t stand a chance. They may take my energy, but they will not take my freedom! (Sorry, but I’ve been dying to type that Braveheart impression forevs. Please forgive!) In my self-imposed, Kleenex-fueled exile, I’ve been trying to catch up on my sleep, correspondence and all the episodes of Law & Order: SVU a gal can stomach….

Dusk And Autumn

The first time I talked to Chris Carrabba, I think I was still the office manager at Alternative Press. Most of my days were spent sorting mail, cleaning up after our gastrointestinally challenged cat Ogre and dreaming of writing pieces for the magazine that were more than 50 words. It must’ve been late 2001 or early 2002, and the whole editorial staff was prepping for AP’s “100 Bands You Need To Know” issue. I had been trumpeting Dashboard Confessional‘s awesomeness for months and I’m pretty positive that I got the assignment mostly because Jason Pettigrew was tired of me nagging him everyday. Hypothetical-yet-completely-possible conversational reinactment: Me: “Hey, Jason! I’ve seen the future of music and…

She’ll Be Comin’ ‘Round The Mountain

I’ve spent most of the weekend shackled to my laptop, toiling away on my book proposal for what feels like the millionth time. I’m totes exhausted—even though I’ve barely moved from my dining room table except to sleep, eat, potty and watch the occasional episode of iCarly. Okay, that’s not entirely true. This morning, while I waited for the TimeWarner dude to replace my half-eaten internet wires (damn vermin!), I also caught an episode of Drake & Josh. I think Josh Peck might be the worst over-actor of all time, but Crazy Steve more than makes up for it. Anyone know who Crazy Steve is? Let me see a show of hands. Um, allow me…

Enough Rope

Okay, it’s official. I’m the biggest slacker since Troy Effing Dyer. I honestly have no excuses except I’ve been trapped under something heavy—and by “something heavy,” I mean “shit-tons of work.” It’s true. Please forgive! I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Swears!! First things first, it’s about time that I announced the winner of my third Les Simes booktastic prize pack. If ya’ll remember, I asked you all to put your literary thinking caps on and tell me if you could have any author—alive or dead—write the story of your life, who would it be and why? Your answers were all completely brilliant but there can only be one winner. That said, I have to…