Folk it over! Lessons learned this week: If you happen to be opening a new restaurant or bar, to ensure maximum press and attention, tell your publicist to make pretend it’s a secret (plant notices on DailyCandy and Gawker, and the ninnies at The New York Times’ Styles section will fall all over themselves in a rush to publish your address and phone number—oooohh, naughty!); second, that publishing scions with good looks and buckets of money have their daddy issues, too; third, speaking of The Times, how do they manage to find such annoying narcissists to write the “Modern Love” column?—each one, we want to push out of a moving car before we’ve gotten to the second paragraph; and fourth, while we won’t say women with tattoos are nuttier than the rest, we will say beware of any young miss with a dolphin on her ankle. Also, while we appreciate (sorta) the idea behind the Critical Mass bike movement, we don’t enjoy being stuck at a crosswalk for 20 minutes, late for dinner, as they pedal their bikes around with self-satisfied smirks. But maybe that’s just the August talking; the shrinks are away, writing screenplays about their crazy patients; the sidewalks smell like a deli without electricity; and we don’t know what the hell is going on with Six Feet Under. O.K.! Tonight, get out your wooden spoons and love beads and head over to Joe’s Pub for banjo, as Jim and Jennie and the Pinetops—bluegrass and Southern rock, “twisting a vivid scene where affliction and peace co-exist in a turbulent but comforting place” (uh huh)—and the Crooked Still—“a unique combination of driving, earthy grooves and soaring, heavenly vocals” (uh oh)—take the stage. Expect some makeup-free, freshly scrubbed gals (wearing matching glasses with their fellas) to be drinking whiskey and beer. And remember, fellas, beware the ankle dolphin! (And, if anyone else is keeping track of just how many times a movie can be replayed, When a Man Loves a Woman is on the WE network. Sheesh, guys, we get it already.)
[Jim and Jennie and the Pinetops, Joe’s Pub, 425 Lafayette Street, 9:30 p.m., www.joespub.com; When a Man Loves a Woman, WE, 7:30 p.m.]
No one is going to argue that M&M’s aren’t delicious—put a bowl out and watch how fast those suckers will go. So we can’t figure out why Masterfoods USA is making a big push to get more adults hopped up on the junk. But they are, and today in Grand Central Terminal, the company will officially unveil their “newest and biggest” M&M’s, which will come in more “adult” colors such as maroon, teal, beige, gold and “fellatio.” Inexplicably, the brilliant John O’Hurley (best known as J. Peterman on the popular NBC television series Seinfeld or from his turn on the very weird Dancing with the Stars) will be on hand. Next! A chick named Periel Aschenbrand is fêted with cocktails and politically correct food on photographer Mark Seliger’s West Village rooftop for her nonfiction book, The Only Bush I Trust Is My Own (she designed T-shirts with the saucy phrase and was one of those girls who realized they could protest and self-promote by stripping down during the Republican National Convention—but somehow, even with all of those eagerly displayed pudenda, George W. Bush still won—but hey, at least the gals felt empowered and got media attention!). The 28-year-old Ms. Aschenbrand writes in her book that she loves to be naked, drinks a double espresso with a “splash” of 2 percent milk and enjoys a good lap dance. See page 130 for an account of her bruised hemorrhoid. Mr. Seliger, who used to shoot Rolling Stone covers, met the budding writer in a stairwell (we bet!) and shot the cover of the book, which features a naked (of course) Ms. Aschenbrand. Now why didn’t Dorothy Parker ever think of that?! Meanwhile, a very different kind of artist will be on display at the Knitting Factory, where Stephanie Erdel, a 9/11 survivor (whose boyfriend was killed in the attack), sings songs from her album, Running from Fear, to benefit September Space, which provides free emotional support for 9/11 survivors.
[M&M’s unveiled, Grand Central Terminal, Vanderbilt Hall, 87 East 42nd Street, noon; Periel Aschenbrand book party, Mark Seliger residence, 162 Charles Street, 9 p.m., by invitation only; Stephanie Erdel performs, Knitting Factory, 71 Leonard Street, 7 p.m., www.knittingfactory.com.]
“I’ve had a crush on Drew Barrymore since I saw E.T., but it’s age-appropriate—I was 6 years old, too,” said Brian Herzlinger, the wacky director and filmmaker who made his quest for a date with the lovely actress into the movie, My Date with Drew, premiering this evening. Mr. Herzlinger, who funded the film with the $1,100 he won on a game show, embarks on a journey that takes him from buying a camera at Circuit City to crashing the world premiere of Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. “We decided to make this movie on a Friday and started shooting that Monday,” he said. “None of us knew what was going to happen.” Was he intimidated by Ms. Barrymore’s fabulous, moffeted Strokes boyfriend? “It was never more than just meeting her—I wasn’t delirious. There was no downfall for me; honestly, I was just proud that I took the risk. It was a positive quest.” We can’t reveal if the maniac succeeds with Ms. Barrymore (this guy needs you to see the movie), but we’ll tell you who you will see in the movie: Corey Feldman. That’s right, the Feldman (proving once and for all it will work for food). In other moviegoing news, The Dukes of Hazzard, whose promotional blitz has tired us out, finally arrives in theaters. Anyone else both enthralled and repelled by the Jessica Simpson video for “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’”?
[My Date with Drew and The Dukes of Hazzard, for showtimes and theaters, www.moviefone.com.]
Marco! … Out in the ho-happy Hamptons, the nouveau-almost-riche flock again to watch the polo ponies in Bridgehampton. The previous weeks have brought out celebrities like the slippery Owen Wilson (we can’t figure out just what to think of that guy: Is he a laid-back stoner with a funny nose? Or the secret genius behind Wes Anderson?), Jay-Z (he’s got 99 problems, but a bitch ain’t one—now that we know for sure) and hemp-lovin’ Woody Harrelson (who’s so weird, you have to love him). Last week, Matt Dillon acted as host for the day. We wonder if Mr. Flamingo Kid is now getting asked about his brother more than he gets asked about Cameron (“These Boobs Were Made for Stalkin’”) Diaz. Today, Town and Country is on duty—make of that what you will. Elsewhere out there, Christopher Fischer, who peddles and perpetuates the whole summer-cashmere mystique, throws a cocktail party with trendy fashion jeweler Lee Angel, featuring discounts on the thread and a sneak peek at some new bling. Expect lots of air-kissy, grabby types (you know who you are).
[2005 Mercedes-Benz Polo Challenge, Bridgehampton Polo Club, 849 Hayground Road, Bridgehampton; Christopher Fischer and Lee Angel cocktail party, 67 Main Street, East Hampton, 4 to 7 p.m., by invitation only.]
Merci Coco! It seems like just yesterday that the socialites whipped themselves up into a lather over the Chanel exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Where have all the fine-feathered gals gone? (We’ll give you three guesses!) Today is the last day to see the clothes that launched a thousand ambitions (and eating disorders), so get up there before it gets replaced by something silly like historical art artifacts. Next! Much more accessible to the common people is the very free concert at SummerStage featuring M.I.A., who will kick it Sri Lankan style. The 28-year-old’s sound is described as a “mash-up of British garage, Jamaican toasting, American hip-hop and South Asian bhangra,” which, amazingly enough, can “effortlessly graft images of violent revolution and Third World poverty to block-rocking party beats.” This means, simply, a very white and serious crowd will be dancing like idiots. Now, onto more serious business: Six Feet Under … does anyone understand? On tonight’s episode, Kathy Bates returns, which we suppose is, at least, something.
In a sweltering summer, just what this town needs is a big stinkin’ rap concert (hope nobody gets shot!). Eminem and 50 Cent (and friends, and bodyguards, natch) roll into Madison Square Garden for two nights of hip-hop-hooray! We’d advise staying off N.J. Transit and the LIRR this evening, because there’s going to be more than one Slim Shady riding the train home, if you know what we mean. Slightly north and just as packed as the Garden will be the Bryant Park Lawn for the big-screen viewing of 1968’s The Odd Couple, starring Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau (for the youngsters, before they became grumpy old men). If you hear some old movie queen saying all the lines out loud, have mercy: Our Big-Cheese Editor rarely gets out.
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It’s hip not to catch hep! Hundreds of New Yorkers march to City Hall to raise awareness about being tested and treated for Hepatitis C (a disease known mostly as something Pamela Anderson contracted). The blood-borne virus has infected nearly 300,000 New York City residents, particularly in the Latino community. “Our goal is to eliminate some of the names on a list for a liver transplant,” said Debbie Delgado Vega, the founder and C.E.O. of the Latino Organization for Liver Awareness (LOLA), who will be marching along with Joel Rivera, majority leader of the City Council. “The more awareness raised, the better,” she said. “We’ll hopefully look like a million at the march—City Hall isn’t that big!” Indeed, as Mayor Mike Bloomberg always cracks, “But I AM standing!”
[March for Awareness, noon, Battery Park City Parks Conservancy, 2 South End Avenue, http://www.lola-national.org.]
O.K., we admit it: Today might be one of those rare days when it’s better to be in the Hamptons with all of the arrivistes and strivers and overpriced radishes (although not if Lizzie “Leadfoot” Grubman happens to be driving a big German car—yeeeoww!). Because all that’s happening in our fair city is … National Underwear Day! Come on, people, what is this, Cincinnati? Can’t somebody important get kidnapped or something? Anyway, Freshpair.com, which sponsors the event, says they believe “underwear deserves a lot more recognition than it gets.” We feel woozy. We can’t wait for National Q-Tip Day.
[National Underwear Day, Freshpair.com.]