The weekender, v1
Winners, losers, and things that smell nice.
I’m trying something new this Friday afternoon, so I hope you enjoy this first edition of The Weekender by Hot Tip. I also hope you enjoy Robyn’s new album, a Saturday filled with cathartic No Kings protests, and some water. Yes, babes, you need water. And to stand up. And to go outside—but take some allergy meds first!!!
The headlines:
Boots on the ground in Iran are officially a frighteningly real possibility, where the overall military goal still seems to be distract from
The Epstein Files,Kristi Noem,Venezuela,Weird Neck Rash,Killing American Citizens,Syphilitic Delusions?etc. But in a sign things are definitely going well, the Army raised the maximum recruitment age to 42 and eased the marijuana rules. Just what the military needs: dudes with vape pens who are too old to audition for American Idol.Mike Johnson and the House GOP are still the reason that TSA isn’t getting paid, and also the reason you might have to listen to the violin version of “Unwritten” while you wait in a six-hour security line, only to miss your flight and then repeatedly scream “representative!!!!!” at a Southwest Airlines AI agent named ‘Jason’ from your makeshift airport floor bed. The American dream.
Pete Hegseth remains a racist and a misogynist whom Jesus would’ve hated.
The winner: Miley Cyrus, who willed the Hannahversary into existence and gave every millennial woman weekend plans.
The loser: Kash Patel, whose personal photos and emails were published by Iranian hackers on Friday—chef’s kiss, do JD Vance next—which prove him to be an even bigger fucking loser than we already knew he was.
The good news: Birdie G’s—a midwestern, Jewish deli-inspired restaurant—is reopening in Century City after its Santa Monica location closed in 2025.
The bad news: Your money is going to have Trump’s signature on it.
Best look: Zendaya in Armani Privé—borrowed from Cate Blanchett.
Worst look: Sarah Huckabee Sanders in Custom Picnic Table.
The book: Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico. It’s only 124 pages, and I read it in one afternoon ahead of my book club. It’s a searingly, freakishly accurate depiction of modern millennial freelancer life that read like a run on sentence, or an extended poem (compliment.) Feels like a Joachim Trier film in novella form.
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The scent(s): Trader Joe’s currently has a $3.99 seasonal Tomato Leaf candle that is so intensely concentrated it literally doesn’t need to even be lit to permeate your one-bedroom apartment (compliment, I think.) I also just started using this new perfume that smells identical to the strawberry shortcake I always made for my birthday with my grandma growing up, and while that may be too sweet for some, I love it.
The wine: Delta Pinot Noir, served chilled, among friends. California grapes, environmentally conscious company, five stars.
Best call: Netflix Giving Zach Galifianakis a gardening show, premiering next month.
Worst call: Need I say more?
The snack: As far as I’m concerned, March is all about the parfait. I like to go coconut yogurt, frozen blueberries, peanut butter, maple syrup, and chia seeds.
The hack: You do have a vase, actually.
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