Park Slope Profiles in Courage: Jonathan Safran Foer

The littler and I stalked JSF recently at Sweet Melissa's. He told me he barely washes his jeans let alone irons them. I promised to never call him a pompous ass again if he answered our FIPS interview questions. He gave me his very special and private email address. 

It was a BIG deal, man...a big deal, that is, before SOMEBODY upped the ante on me with that Jake Gyllenhaal sighting on the Q train.

Anyway.

In due time, he emailed me with his answers to my questions. That's when I found myself in a moral dilemma, because I just CANNOT BELIEVE some of these answers.

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Jonathan Safran Foer To Park Slope: WHERE ALL MY WHITE BOYYYIIIZZZZ AT??

Ok, so mayyyybbbeeee JSF himself didn't put up this casting notice, but the coincidence is just too much fun to ignore.

From the Village Voice:

"Spotted in Park Slope by Runnin' Scared friend @stvspl: a casting notice for "9-13 year-old Caucasian boys" to appear in the upcoming Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a film adaptation of Jonathan Safran Foer's 2005 novel about a nine-year-old boy's life in the aftermath of September 11th. With the names already attached to this project, forget the coop, Brooklyn parents -- this could be your (child's) big break!"

As for the names already attached, do Tom Hanks or Sandra Bullock ring a bell? I know it's not exactly Jake-n-Taylor or anything, but that still ain't chopped liver. Though you probs shouldn't audition if you *do* eat chopped liver, cause JSF is a locavore, vegan, raw foodist, or some shit.

Obvies Park Slope is ground zero for cute white kids, so I'd like to encourage all you over-the-hill BREEDERS (over-the-hill enough to have a 13-year-old at least) to audition immeds! This is your chance to make billions of dollars AND become BFF's with JSF so you can feed us "anonymous" tips about his take-out habits and/or propensity to download porn! Or illegal movies! Or whatever!

(via Daily Intel)

Jonathan Safran Foer's Boring New Yorker Q&A

HEY!  Wanna read some of the most boring Q&As on the planet? 

Look no further than The New Yorker's 20 Under 40 Fiction Q&As!  Our BK homeboy was featured as one of the 20. Having trouble falling asleep? Just read a few of these interviews with pretty much any of these smug dbags.

All aboard the sleepytown express!  

Another Little Piece of Gary Shteyngart, Now, Baby

I'm among the throngs who've just cracked open Gary Shteyngart's newest, Super Sad True Love Story.  (On a totally unrelated note, turns out reading In Cold Blood while fighting off an anesthesia hangover is basically the worst idea ever.)

Anyway, in an interview with NY1, clearly the only news channel after my own heart, turns out Mr. Fancy Pants Bestseller himself accidentally gifted his reject pages to my own fine avenue in our beloved little neighborhood: 

Shteyngart says he was so upset with an early version of his first book that he chucked it -- 500 pages in the garbage. One problem though, the bag broke as it was being carried out to the dumpster.

"Seventh Avenue in Park Slope was covered with my manuscript from one end to the other, pages fluttering around. Stupidly I put Gary Shteyngart at the top of every page if some editor should see it. My friends would walk around and say 'Page 230 is looking pretty good here,'" says Shteyngart.

Did I find any of these pages floating around?  No.  If I had, would I have paused for a moment and considered turning them in to my agent?  No comment.

Sure, Gary doesn't live 'round here (Gary, we're on a first name basis, FYI), but I'm thinking that JSF better watch his back.  I have a hunch we're all in the mood for a new literary sweetheart.  Also, use better trash bags, gang.

(Image via Marny Smith)

OPEN THREAD: Looking at This Fucking Tree

Well, it's one of your few remaining summer Fridays (those of us in publishing do not know what to do with ourselves when these end, as pathetic and indolent as that is), so clearly your minds are numbed enough to deal with waking up to an image of the tree outside of Jonathan Safran Foer's brownstone.  Or, as our friends at the Daily Intel are calling it, a "twee."

Yes, those are hands signing the American Sign Language alphabet and no, we don't have a fucking clue what to say, either.  But lucky you, this is an open thread.  So once you figure it out or have put enough Kahlua in your coffee that we won't know the difference, fire away in the comments.

Thank you for tuning in to this edition of Erica Fakes a Blog Vacation.  We're aiming for more nudity in the next installment.