Bonjourno bitch,
Just like magic, it’s time for the SWEETIE Weekly again. Once again. Here it is. In your inbox. Begging to be opened. Good times.
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Astrology girlies
In light of Cassie’s jaw-dropping lawsuit against P Diddy, I was snooping around onTwitter to find some more information. Scrolling through tweet after tweet, I eventually found one that stopped my thumb in its tracks. A user @DKastrology, had retweeted a post of hers from 6 September.
What? Even as someone who tries to keep abreast of astrological vibes, this was kind of insane to me. Upon further investigation, it seems as though there are a litany of true (timestamped) celebrity news predictions through her natal chart analyses — from Rihanna’s first pregnancy to Madonna’s health woes. Astrology real? Me, suggestible?
I don’t need science anymore. This is it for me. Now I just need someone to read my chart and tell me when I’m finally going to be able to afford a house overlooking London Fields. My bet? 2024!
A poddy
There Are No Girls on the Internet is simply fab — it’s well-researched, genuinely informative and host Bridget Todd and her Producer Mike actually have their fingers on the pulse when it comes to what’s happening on the internet.
This morning, as I sat in the park and drank a coffee, I listened to their episode From those judgy bridesmaids to West Elm Caleb, has TikTik surveillance ruined gossip? and I really, really enjoyed it. The internet is simultaneously more interesting and much more terrifying when Bridget explains it all.
Mulled wine
Surprisingly, it really doesn’t take much to make me feel happy these days. One of the greatest shortcuts to happiness is to enjoy one single mulled wine. That’s it. One good, mulled wine, sweet and hot and a tiny bit tart. That’s all I need. Well, that and Jacob Elordi’s phone number, hayoooo! But for real. I can do all things through mulled wine, which strengthens me.
I understand the basic bitch drink rules for the northern hemisphere now. You roll from skin contact wine spring, shift to Aperol spritz summer, transition into pumpkin spice autumn, then round off the year with mulled wine winter. It’s just that easy. Life is so amazing.
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The pastry landscape
Like Tarzan swinging from vine to vine, I move swiftly from one food hyperfixation to another. It’s almost whiplash-inducing. Last week I was all about Pho, this week I’m into danishes. I have had four in the last seven days, and that number would be a lot higher, God forbid, if they were more readily available. My question is — where are all the danishes?
Every day I search for a cherry, an apricot, hell, even an apple danish, and I am left bereft. I’m tired of seeing valuable cafe counter space taken up by dry-ass cinnamon buns, bland pain au chocolats and anaemic croissants. We, as a society, must be freed from the chains of croissants. I almost never want a croissant. Croissants are the Post Malone of pastries. They’re fine, I see that people like them, but I don’t entirely understand why.
My danish obsession might be coming to a close, anyway. I had a maritozzi this morning that blew my dick clean off. Could a croissant do that? I doubt it. Don’t even get me started on a pain aux RAISIN. Sickening.
Ethan Slater is Baby
I’m about to do my best Daily Mail impression. Ready?
OH BABY! Musical man Ethan Slater, 31, shares WICKED pic of him dressed as a topless tot.
Ariana Grande’s married boyfriend, Ethan Slater, told to ‘GROW UP’ by fans after posting half-nude baby snap on social media.
She’s gaga for him! Ariana Grande turns a blind eye as beau Ethan Slater FLAUNTS physique in shirtless baby garb.
More like ‘Pramalot’! Ariana Grande’s squeeze Ethan Slater SHOCKS in infant get-up, while he receives rave reviews for his latest Broadway turn.
Anddddd scene. Noted musical theatre actor and adulterer Ethan Slater has recently shared a picture of himself on Instagram in which he is dressed as a cartoon baby. It’s rough stuff.
Gazing upon this picture has done more psychic damage to me than the time I put my dislocated kneecap back into place by hand. How do you delete something from someone else’s account?
Jezebel is gone
I meant to write about this last week (I forgot) but I am truly bitter about the shuttering of Jezebel. On 9 November, GMG Group CEO Jim Spanfeller announced that the site was no more, effective immediately.
Everything that I have ever written has been shaped by reading Jezebel, Gawker and Michael K of DListed from the age of 17. Jezebel, Gawker and DListed are all closed now, and I feel a strange, small grief at the loss of them. It feels like there is nowhere on the internet to be snarky anymore — not a bully, not slanderous, just snarky.
At least we have the archives of Jezebel’s Scary Stories contest which has kept me up at night, terrified, every October for the last decade. Rest in peace.
Farvel!