The A-Train

Remember that party I went to a few months ago, and the lady who was carried out by her dad before apparently puking on her shoes? And how I had to spend 45 seconds of my life reassuring her that voluntarily writing "me love you long time" on a post-it wasn't racist?

She's now writing for the Huffington Post. About Rwanda.

It reads mostly like an STA blog or Flickr captions and it doesn't appear to have been copy-edited (at 9:47 GMT, perhaps this will change).

Oh and I can't even finish that thought because I just tripped over this gem:

"Martin told us war stories (I proceeded to have the most dramatic and violent dreams!) and he played us a song by Baz Luhrman around the table which I haven't heard for years and is packed with invaluable advice...it's called "Sunscreen"... look it up and listen!"

Ok.That's it. I was searching for the recent article about "winning the battle against hunger" written by Drew Barrymore to bring my whole point here home when I found that they'd reposted her Bazaar story titled "Obama Made Me Cry".

So thank you Huffington Post. We had a good run. And then your content became indistinguishable from Teen Vogue, and you made my own written internet-reaction disjointed and extemporaneous. I'm going to say something that, frankly, I never thought I'd think, let alone put into writing.

I'm glad you're not called the Arianna Post.

GLAD.

People who prefer the definite article deserve to be shot.

In my last year at university I got involved with the student newspaper, and due to a combination of knock-off Malaysian redbull drinks and lack of professionalism, I became editor in five months. I mostly liked it because it turned out that everyone at the paper was very cool and once they even climbed a mountain with me (I got a nosebleed), but also we somehow we managed to get the domain name "studentnewspaper.org" back in the olden days. Suck it, Dartmouth. It was also hard work and I was completely burned out by the end of my editing term and vowed never to do anything similar again, but then I got positions at McSweeney's and Vice and now it looks like journalism is what I'm doing.

Anyway, my point is, I came to Edinburgh for like a two days visit and I now find myself in the Student office helping my friend Ed with stories and layout. I don't recognize a whole lot of faces which is nice because they don't know that I graduated a year ago and have nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon.

I caved

I'm on Twitter
http://twitter.com/ariannareiche

Also, am I late in the game in saying that Camden is the most pointless place in the entire city? It's where people who are secretly afraid of Hoxton go when they want to feel like the coolest kid in the room. Proud Galleries is always where I will secretly want to go out, because I like feeling of being in a small protective womb-like space with people I like at any given time, but besides that I'm getting really over Chalk Farm really fast. Jesus do they even cultivate chalk?

Good show at the Monarch last night though.