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Nothing But Net: For the Week of Nov. 19 – Nov. 25



Twitter’s New Office

We don’t give office tours at the Press (Note to female interns: Those evening-hour “office walkthroughs” I do are mandatory and our little secret, OK?), so let me offer a mental sneak peek: We have some rooms filled with desks and decade-old computers. A few whiteboards to map out each week’s issue. Tada! That’s it. It’s very boring and plain, and that’s because half of our office is working nonstop for at least 10 hours a day and the other half is out of the office most of the time. It makes sense, doesn’t it? We’re too busy working our asses off to enjoy things like a DJ booth, wall-mounted wooden moose heads and bathrooms with mirrors in the stalls. Twitter employees, on the other hand, have six-hour meetings to discuss their favorite shades of teal, so they can enjoy things like a DJ booth, wall-mounted wooden moose heads and bathrooms with mirrors in the stalls. Someday, venture capitalists will wonder what they were thinking when they gave Twitter all their money. Except it’ll read, “OMG, wht were we thinking givin r $$$ 2 Twitter LOL???”



Remember when Mr. & Mrs. Smith came out, and right afterwards Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt got together and started having kids every Friday and Jennifer Aniston lost her freakin’ mind and started dating every male lead in the 90028 ZIP code? Man, those were good times. But I read something the other day about how the couple has only been seen in public together a couple of times in the past three months. And then when they were seen, it was at an art museum. And they totally were not lovey-dovey or fornicating in the surrealist section. So OMG, is it splitsville for Brangelina? First of all, I’m sorry for using the words lovey-dovey. Second of all, walking through an art museum doesn’t spark carnal impulses. It makes me cry, because Andy Warhol discovered the indie color wheel and his “works” are valued at tens of millions of dollars. THIRD OF ALL, Angelina has been busy filming Salt, known internally as Mrs. Smith’s solo album. She’s being framed as a Russian assassin working as a sleeper in the U.S. government. That’s taxing on a marriage. That and staring at Brad Pitt all day. (*Gazes longingly at Meet Joe Black poster*)


“Between Two Ferns” with Conan O’Brien

Between Two Ferns” is Zach Galifianakis’ Web talk show, where he interviews celebrities while sitting between…yeah. Previously I covered his interview with Charlize Theron, in which she claimed to have “pissed” herself, and similarly caused me to as well (I should really get around to changing my underwear). For episode seven, Conan O. Brien (the show’s spelling—it’s a joke. Settle down armchair editors) and Andy Richter are the guests. Of course the entire thing is funny (Conan: [To Andy] “I didn’t know you were here.” Andy: “You don’t own me.”), but Conan’s performance is worth pointing out. According to a super-scientific study I did last night with my TiVo and a bottle of whiskey, roughly 97 percent of late night show jokes are bombs. They’re pre-scripted and often suck so hard, Conan laughs at how bad they are. But to see him go on “Ferns,” allegedly out of character, and tell the same horrible jokes is like the biggest subtle middle finger to NBC and Jay Leno ever. “…but the best Hilton to stay in? Well that would be Paris!” You kill me, Jay! (*Tightens noose*)


Have A Beagle And Carry On

Have A Beagle And Carry On. It’s not a domain name, it’s an order. It’s saying, “Hey you. Life got ya down? Had enough of The Real Housewives (destined to become this generation’s Guiding Light)? Sick of reading about Michael Jackson five months after he kicked the can? Hope is not lost. Hope is found; found in pint-sized, four-legged, barking packages of love.” There are hundreds of photos of beagle puppies, mostly doing nothing special, but Jesus Christ they are the cutest things ever. I was the same when I was a baby. I could spit up an entire container of applesauce and everyone in a 100-yard radius would scream “Aww!” in unison. Hopefully these puppies have a better adolescence than I did—being called Pizza Face while drinking toilet water upside-down is not as fun as it seems.

Follow me on Twitter! One thing the Press office has that Twitter’s doesn’t? A foosball table. Sure, ours is used to put empty boxes on, but at least we have it. Who knows—maybe we’ll use it someday. Watch for the play-by-play.

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