Never napping at night again.
NNNNNNNNNNN.
TER-giiit lady!!!!!!
Monday, December 29, 2008
DAYMARE.
I am never going to Spain.
Why?
Because anywhere that these kinds of things happen and are TAPED and are set to music fit for The Shining, and voice-overed by creeperson creepnuts; I want nothing to do with.
Without further adieu:
I may have to revise my list of the most terrifying predators on earth to include eagles in the top 3.
Previously it went like this:
1. squid
2. wolves
3. sharks
Now I think it should go like this:
1. squid
2. eagles
3. shark/wolf hybrid beast.
Oh my god imagine a fucking SHARKWOLF.
Someone please make a claymation short film called sharkwolf.
Why claymation I don't know.
I guess so I won't pee my pants in fear watching it.
PS if anyone has information about predators who are more efficient or terrifying, its a topic I love discussing.
PPS I already know about the whole violent human hating hippo theory so please don't try to school me like that.
I'm not scared of a fucking hippo.
A. because I doubt I'm going to Africa anytime soon.
and B. because look at this thing.
Oh hi, I'm just a hippo giving snugs to a tortoise.
I like to smile and have pink skin and waddle around looking for wet cool places to take super long naps.
Fact: Jessica the Hippo lives in a god damn house with these whitey white South African folks.
So take that one to the bank.
I know, hippos attack more than any other animal in Africa, but c'mon.
If you were by some dark dirty river and you saw a crocodile and a hippo to your left and to your right, staring at your juicy delicious limbs, which one would you innately run from?
Exactly.
Anyway, thats what I did this evening when I returned home from Jersey.
Went to see Sam and Alex and watched youtubes of scary animals.
Opposite of scary, I found my true spirit animal.
Fainting goats.
They are also called nervous goats, wooden leg goats, Tennessee goats, stiff goats, etc.
AMAZING.
I don't know what is better than goats flipping out and getting frozen leg from a stupid farmer opening an umbrella in their faces.
Oh hi, you startled me.
Have we had enough animals for today?
Great.
Gratuitous portrait time
Samantha gets a lot of profile shots in.
Bee Tee Dubs, I got a haircut.
I hate haircuts almost as much as I hate the smell of coffee.
Almost as much as I hate when kids get yogurt on their hands and then touch you.
EW.
Not Ew.
I like to come back home and see my bestie and eat biscuits and salad and vegetable samosas and have about 4 drinks and then go home and pass out with my cats. With all the lights on.
Then wake up and blog.
PPPS Hi Liv and Hiyme, yes I went to your house when you weren't there and had dinner.
Thats what you get for leaving me here while you go to Mexico.
Fags.
In conclusion, the holiday season is nearly over.
Thank the lord baby jesus for that.
I was over it before it started.
Alls we have left is New Years Eve which I'm already dreading.
Though I am sort of considering going out on the town.
If you would like to know where, I will tell you.
But not on this blog BECAUSE ITS TOP SECRET.
I'm dead serious about that.
Or just dead.
What was I talking about.
Oh so holidays.
I was gonna talk about that, making cookies and hanging out with cute babies and doing family things.
But no one ever cares and I don't think I want to go over it all.
I did meet my nephew Jack for the first time and he is a ham sandwich.
Also a ham sandwich, Nancy Conley.
Thanks mother for making us food and buying us things and for the first Christmas of my life, following directions as to what I actually need.
Frying pans, slippers, nightgowns, candles, and giant books about Prince.
I have returned to the life of an actual Cathy comic.
No doubt.
Why?
Because anywhere that these kinds of things happen and are TAPED and are set to music fit for The Shining, and voice-overed by creeperson creepnuts; I want nothing to do with.
Without further adieu:
I may have to revise my list of the most terrifying predators on earth to include eagles in the top 3.
Previously it went like this:
1. squid
2. wolves
3. sharks
Now I think it should go like this:
1. squid
2. eagles
3. shark/wolf hybrid beast.
Oh my god imagine a fucking SHARKWOLF.
Someone please make a claymation short film called sharkwolf.
Why claymation I don't know.
I guess so I won't pee my pants in fear watching it.
PS if anyone has information about predators who are more efficient or terrifying, its a topic I love discussing.
PPS I already know about the whole violent human hating hippo theory so please don't try to school me like that.
I'm not scared of a fucking hippo.
A. because I doubt I'm going to Africa anytime soon.
and B. because look at this thing.
Oh hi, I'm just a hippo giving snugs to a tortoise.
I like to smile and have pink skin and waddle around looking for wet cool places to take super long naps.
Fact: Jessica the Hippo lives in a god damn house with these whitey white South African folks.
So take that one to the bank.
I know, hippos attack more than any other animal in Africa, but c'mon.
If you were by some dark dirty river and you saw a crocodile and a hippo to your left and to your right, staring at your juicy delicious limbs, which one would you innately run from?
Exactly.
Anyway, thats what I did this evening when I returned home from Jersey.
Went to see Sam and Alex and watched youtubes of scary animals.
Opposite of scary, I found my true spirit animal.
Fainting goats.
They are also called nervous goats, wooden leg goats, Tennessee goats, stiff goats, etc.
AMAZING.
I don't know what is better than goats flipping out and getting frozen leg from a stupid farmer opening an umbrella in their faces.
Oh hi, you startled me.
Have we had enough animals for today?
Great.
Gratuitous portrait time
Samantha gets a lot of profile shots in.
Bee Tee Dubs, I got a haircut.
I hate haircuts almost as much as I hate the smell of coffee.
Almost as much as I hate when kids get yogurt on their hands and then touch you.
EW.
Not Ew.
I like to come back home and see my bestie and eat biscuits and salad and vegetable samosas and have about 4 drinks and then go home and pass out with my cats. With all the lights on.
Then wake up and blog.
PPPS Hi Liv and Hiyme, yes I went to your house when you weren't there and had dinner.
Thats what you get for leaving me here while you go to Mexico.
Fags.
In conclusion, the holiday season is nearly over.
Thank the lord baby jesus for that.
I was over it before it started.
Alls we have left is New Years Eve which I'm already dreading.
Though I am sort of considering going out on the town.
If you would like to know where, I will tell you.
But not on this blog BECAUSE ITS TOP SECRET.
I'm dead serious about that.
Or just dead.
What was I talking about.
Oh so holidays.
I was gonna talk about that, making cookies and hanging out with cute babies and doing family things.
But no one ever cares and I don't think I want to go over it all.
I did meet my nephew Jack for the first time and he is a ham sandwich.
Also a ham sandwich, Nancy Conley.
Thanks mother for making us food and buying us things and for the first Christmas of my life, following directions as to what I actually need.
Frying pans, slippers, nightgowns, candles, and giant books about Prince.
I have returned to the life of an actual Cathy comic.
No doubt.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Oh hai.
The last few days here in Jersey I have heard two sentences on constant repeat courtesy of my glorious niece.
1. "Mahhhhn Tittay!" Mahhhn Tittay!" (C'mon Kitty! C'mon Kitty!)
2. " Hold Juuu Tissy/Mommy/Gammah!" (translates to a request that either Aunt Krissy/Mommy/or Grandma pick Kayla up and hold her)
Also requests for chocolate milk, Elmo dvds, candy canes, and Uncle Sean.
Also denials of having poop in her diaper.
Its amazing.
Someone please make me one year old again.
* n nv v
*thats her addition to the post
It's nearly bedtime so feast your eyes on my new overalls if you want to have the sweetest dreams ev.
I will really truly have a next level semblance come spring.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Pon de cherry
The Burton/Depp version of Willy Wonka is on right now.
Watching it all I can think of is Michael Jackson and how he's becoming a Muslim and dying of some kind of secret lung disease.
Oooook.
So I need to talk about this asap.
Not Willy Wonka and Jackson, something else.
THIS.
So here's the thing.
I get it that Terry Richardson is talented and loved.
I also get it that models are pretty and make people think about sex and hedonism and excess.
I get that Douchey Fuckerson the Chauvanist Shitbag is in SOME circles seen as a talented film maker.
OK that's great, I can understand exactly who is going to look at this ad and feel invigorated.
They will immediately taste the sting of cocaine dripping down their throat.
They will get a koolguy boner and they will walk out onto the street, long strides in their 250 dollar industrial jeans and second hand motorcycle jacket. They will envision commanding all the pussy of the city.
Come to meeee pussy.
I, like Terry and Vincent and red headed models, I will rule my universe with my balls.
My one of a kind, super prominent figurative balls.
This is where you say, oh hi hater.
Yes I am a total hater.
But on the other hand...
I love vodka.
I drink it in excess.
It makes me laugh and it makes me feel like hot shit and it makes me funnier.
It makes me more interesting and more importantly it makes you more interesting.
So lets say I wasn't a hater.
Lets say I was an icon.
Lets say I was Terry or Vincent or ten times thinner.
I might actually love to do an ad for Belvedere.
So that is what my life is about.
Hating on people and having a hard time admitting that I would do the exact same thing if given the chance to sell out and revel in self-obsession and trend.
We shouldn't kid ourselves.
Par example...
why does facebook or myspace exist?
Oh because we all want everyone else looking at us validating our existence.
I can admit to this because I have a blog. A blog that is strictly about me for the love of christ.
Me all day.
Me all night.
Pictures of me stories about me people who hang out with me things I'm thinking about, ads that bother me on the subway.
I can hardly think about it anymore because Cokey my cat is kneading my stomach with her stupid paws.
And staring in my right eye.
So to get to the point.
Here's a list of things I want more or less of in the new year:
More black nerds. Less white rappers.
*When I say black nerds I mean real nerds who love anime and sci-fi, not short pants/Buddy Holly glasses koolguys in hiding.
More fat chefs, less skinny jean djs.
*When I say fat chefs I literally mean fat chefs.
Thats that new shit.
More gay senior citizens, less Dominican teenage boys in bedazzled gear.
*When I say gay I mean bordering on queen status.
More Ed Koch steez, less Ed Hardy steez.
* When I say Koch steez I mean exactly this.
*and this is the opposite of that.
Its all in the mindset.
More Jewish talk show hosts, less Tyty Baby Banks hosting anything at all.
More Gatorade and antidepressants, less cocaine.
More cats wearing booties, less small dogs wearing mock turtlenecks.
More for real dancehall beats, less of anything off of this album.
*Yes, I was really feeling it for awhile.
No, I do not want to hear you play this shit one more time on your guest dj night at Lit.
*Nor do I want you to ever play A Millie again.
It was fun while it lasted.
Move on.
More airport karaoke, less delays out of Newark.
More Chinatown, less Williamsburg.
More 'bear attacks city", less "dog bites toddlers face"
*violence is never funny or acceptable, but try to tell me that a giant black bear tearing down Wall Street would not be an amazing situation.
More Cosby Couples, less open relationships.
I'm asking for a lot.
Actually thats not the tip of the iceberg really.
I also want my friends in LA to move to New York.
Then I want LA to become it's own country.
I want a good pair of snow boots, and I want those snow overalls for grown-ups that they sell in Kmart and Kmart only.
I want really white teeth, and I want the entire Scorcese history of the blues dvd set.
Along with every season of Six Feet Under. Playing on a projector on my wall at all times.
Last but not least I want some more art.
From you.
I'll buy it.
I won't sell it if you suddenly get hyped because I don't play like that.
And I want happy holidays for all and at least a million dollars so I can buy my apartment and fix the pipes.
I mean that literally, there's no "fixin the pipes" joke to follow.
Much love much hate much everything its yin yang you know.
Last but not least, more polaroids.
(this boy is the whipped cream of humans)
PS my entire Year In Review post will be polaroid heaven.
See you there cronies!
Watching it all I can think of is Michael Jackson and how he's becoming a Muslim and dying of some kind of secret lung disease.
Oooook.
So I need to talk about this asap.
Not Willy Wonka and Jackson, something else.
THIS.
So here's the thing.
I get it that Terry Richardson is talented and loved.
I also get it that models are pretty and make people think about sex and hedonism and excess.
I get that Douchey Fuckerson the Chauvanist Shitbag is in SOME circles seen as a talented film maker.
OK that's great, I can understand exactly who is going to look at this ad and feel invigorated.
They will immediately taste the sting of cocaine dripping down their throat.
They will get a koolguy boner and they will walk out onto the street, long strides in their 250 dollar industrial jeans and second hand motorcycle jacket. They will envision commanding all the pussy of the city.
Come to meeee pussy.
I, like Terry and Vincent and red headed models, I will rule my universe with my balls.
My one of a kind, super prominent figurative balls.
This is where you say, oh hi hater.
Yes I am a total hater.
But on the other hand...
I love vodka.
I drink it in excess.
It makes me laugh and it makes me feel like hot shit and it makes me funnier.
It makes me more interesting and more importantly it makes you more interesting.
So lets say I wasn't a hater.
Lets say I was an icon.
Lets say I was Terry or Vincent or ten times thinner.
I might actually love to do an ad for Belvedere.
So that is what my life is about.
Hating on people and having a hard time admitting that I would do the exact same thing if given the chance to sell out and revel in self-obsession and trend.
We shouldn't kid ourselves.
Par example...
why does facebook or myspace exist?
Oh because we all want everyone else looking at us validating our existence.
I can admit to this because I have a blog. A blog that is strictly about me for the love of christ.
Me all day.
Me all night.
Pictures of me stories about me people who hang out with me things I'm thinking about, ads that bother me on the subway.
I can hardly think about it anymore because Cokey my cat is kneading my stomach with her stupid paws.
And staring in my right eye.
So to get to the point.
Here's a list of things I want more or less of in the new year:
More black nerds. Less white rappers.
*When I say black nerds I mean real nerds who love anime and sci-fi, not short pants/Buddy Holly glasses koolguys in hiding.
More fat chefs, less skinny jean djs.
*When I say fat chefs I literally mean fat chefs.
Thats that new shit.
More gay senior citizens, less Dominican teenage boys in bedazzled gear.
*When I say gay I mean bordering on queen status.
More Ed Koch steez, less Ed Hardy steez.
* When I say Koch steez I mean exactly this.
*and this is the opposite of that.
Its all in the mindset.
More Jewish talk show hosts, less Tyty Baby Banks hosting anything at all.
More Gatorade and antidepressants, less cocaine.
More cats wearing booties, less small dogs wearing mock turtlenecks.
More for real dancehall beats, less of anything off of this album.
*Yes, I was really feeling it for awhile.
No, I do not want to hear you play this shit one more time on your guest dj night at Lit.
*Nor do I want you to ever play A Millie again.
It was fun while it lasted.
Move on.
More airport karaoke, less delays out of Newark.
More Chinatown, less Williamsburg.
More 'bear attacks city", less "dog bites toddlers face"
*violence is never funny or acceptable, but try to tell me that a giant black bear tearing down Wall Street would not be an amazing situation.
More Cosby Couples, less open relationships.
I'm asking for a lot.
Actually thats not the tip of the iceberg really.
I also want my friends in LA to move to New York.
Then I want LA to become it's own country.
I want a good pair of snow boots, and I want those snow overalls for grown-ups that they sell in Kmart and Kmart only.
I want really white teeth, and I want the entire Scorcese history of the blues dvd set.
Along with every season of Six Feet Under. Playing on a projector on my wall at all times.
Last but not least I want some more art.
From you.
I'll buy it.
I won't sell it if you suddenly get hyped because I don't play like that.
And I want happy holidays for all and at least a million dollars so I can buy my apartment and fix the pipes.
I mean that literally, there's no "fixin the pipes" joke to follow.
Much love much hate much everything its yin yang you know.
Last but not least, more polaroids.
(this boy is the whipped cream of humans)
PS my entire Year In Review post will be polaroid heaven.
See you there cronies!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
balmy with a chance of awesome
I miss wearing dresses with no tights.
I miss sitting outside to smoke and not wanting to cry about it.
But I will never miss you Samantha because that would mean we would have to be apart first.
IMpossible.
Dop I love you too.
Even when you burn all the kitchen implements.
Then buy a timer to remember to turn off the stove so you can stop burning things.
Then you leave the oven on and the timer melts on top of it anyway.
I do love you.
When I'm pissed off I remember days in particular.
Most of them involve feeling like everything is funny.
Everything is worthy.
Everything is fun because you're doing your everythings with your people.
And you get to choose them how amazing is that.
I miss sitting outside to smoke and not wanting to cry about it.
But I will never miss you Samantha because that would mean we would have to be apart first.
IMpossible.
Dop I love you too.
Even when you burn all the kitchen implements.
Then buy a timer to remember to turn off the stove so you can stop burning things.
Then you leave the oven on and the timer melts on top of it anyway.
I do love you.
When I'm pissed off I remember days in particular.
Most of them involve feeling like everything is funny.
Everything is worthy.
Everything is fun because you're doing your everythings with your people.
And you get to choose them how amazing is that.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I still love Jews
I do.
But I sort of forgot that I will have to blog Christmas spirit.
In photos.
I can think of nothing else that would have made my bus ride more amazing than these two dbags in their ratty costumes.
Drunk.
And passing out.
At 730 pm.
Dear God,
You.
Are a riot.
Love,
Kristopher Jones
This is called Berry Christmas.
I just made that up right now.
I like to drink alcohol!
Don't you?!?
I like Stephanie's tree.
Don't you?!?
Men do not care about mistletoe.
This is a fact of life.
They also don't care if you don't shave your legs, as long as you touch their balls a lot and make them feel important, they are absolutely down with whatever.
PS If I was a guy and Corinne was standing under the Mtoe I would definitely give her the tongue.
I'm just that kind of man.
Other kinds of man:
Hi Hater man.
Jim Jones man.
Perfect man.
Raf, you are the light that brightens me darkest hours.
You ridiculous piece of shit.
When I look at this I see this:
If Lucy would have just been laying next to Himes on the couch it all would have been perfect.
And if Sam was a tiny toddler.
And if Himes was green.
And a dick.
Chiara made us all pipe cleaner name ornaments.
Stephanie wore hers.
And spoke in airquotes.
B sang karaoke carols.
And she will definitely not enjoy this picture of her.
Feleesh tried to bring back pipe cleaner mustache Christmas but failed.
In conclusion,
I hate Christmas.
But my gift from Santy Claus that I want is a really long life with my friends who are more fun than yours.
Also I want a new frying pan.
Also I want to still have this body when I'm 40.
And a vainglorious holiday season to you.
XO.
But I sort of forgot that I will have to blog Christmas spirit.
In photos.
I can think of nothing else that would have made my bus ride more amazing than these two dbags in their ratty costumes.
Drunk.
And passing out.
At 730 pm.
Dear God,
You.
Are a riot.
Love,
Kristopher Jones
This is called Berry Christmas.
I just made that up right now.
I like to drink alcohol!
Don't you?!?
I like Stephanie's tree.
Don't you?!?
Men do not care about mistletoe.
This is a fact of life.
They also don't care if you don't shave your legs, as long as you touch their balls a lot and make them feel important, they are absolutely down with whatever.
PS If I was a guy and Corinne was standing under the Mtoe I would definitely give her the tongue.
I'm just that kind of man.
Other kinds of man:
Hi Hater man.
Jim Jones man.
Perfect man.
Raf, you are the light that brightens me darkest hours.
You ridiculous piece of shit.
When I look at this I see this:
If Lucy would have just been laying next to Himes on the couch it all would have been perfect.
And if Sam was a tiny toddler.
And if Himes was green.
And a dick.
Chiara made us all pipe cleaner name ornaments.
Stephanie wore hers.
And spoke in airquotes.
B sang karaoke carols.
And she will definitely not enjoy this picture of her.
Feleesh tried to bring back pipe cleaner mustache Christmas but failed.
In conclusion,
I hate Christmas.
But my gift from Santy Claus that I want is a really long life with my friends who are more fun than yours.
Also I want a new frying pan.
Also I want to still have this body when I'm 40.
And a vainglorious holiday season to you.
XO.
the flower not the high school massacre
Then this happened:
AIM IM with turksey.
4:37 PM
Krissy: whats thenews
Jeylan: JUST AWESOME NEWS
AWESOME NEWS
it's the new call me
Krissy:oh great
my new thing is Oh hai.
surprised.
even when you arent surprised.
and also.
'last time i checked'
but not ever checking
Hi JJ I'm glad we're friends.
Also I think Conrad made up that whole awesome news thing.
So whatever.
Last night I went to that gallery on Broome to see Piece Process.
It was pretty intriguing.
There was the option of wheat beer or rye beer.
Samantha thinks the rye tasted like organic shampoo.
Right on.
Too bad I'm allergic to wheat because that beer was pretty yummies.
That is what Olivia looks like drinking it, in case you were wondering.
I think that picture might annoy Olivia but thats too bad because I think she looks like some hot bitch who once lived in France with an older successful man who speaks seven languages, has always had gray hair, and is only attracted to women with green eyes and toned calves.
If you want to imagine what some of the (worse) pieces on display looked like, reference this photograph:
This is some conceptual art installation I made with a 2 year old at work.
Take that as you will.
Katie and I walked really slowly around the gallery about 4 inches from the wall talking shit about 50 percent of the work. The other 50 percent we wanted to buy.
Then Katie looked like she was going to sleep.
This piece of dumb was on the wall with the Warhol and Basquiat and other famous shitty shit. I like it but don't want to admit it because that would be cliche of me.
Sammy saw this and said
That is the size of my future husband.
Please try to imagine that.
Look at his tiny useless legs.
We really didn't stay long.
We left to go 169 Bar which I hadnt been to in ages. Ages meaning literally years.
This is how far ahead Jiwon and Denise walked.
I think they were playing a game called 'how fast can we get there and how secretly'
Also looking at this I notice the absolute staggering amount of rubbish.
There is truly shit everywhere downtown.
It looks like we live in the Hoovervilles.
For those of you who slept through high school, those are the shantytowns built by travelers during the Depression.
Get a brain.
So 169 Bar has improved vastly.
Its bizarrely charming.
Is bizarrely a word I don't know.
We all sat in the back by a blue lamp with a homemade shade.
Then I had to experiment taking the shade off to see if girls look beautiful in blue.
Fact: They do.
Shade on works too.
Olivia gets my phone in her hands and suddenly taking good pictures is a piece of fucking cake.
Mmm cake.
I'm becoming that annoying person who sticks their iphone in everyones face trying to figure out how to make the pictures not look like shit.
It's hard and people don't like how invasive it is.
Too bad fools!
Actually the only person who truly hates when I do it is Denise.
Last night I think she came really close to punching me in the mouth.
This whole situation happened.
Sure.
Zack Teddy Quim and some other guy in a band.
Zack singing like a little angel.
Quim being a swaying keyboard player.
It was literally fascinating.
It was gripping.
I was expecting Teddy to go on stage and rap about dragging girls in the woods to kill them.
Instead, the universe imploded and they played a bunch of love songs.
So good.
I also talked Marty's ear off about how geigh it is to be single when all you want to do is sit home with someone you love and eat candy. And maybe watch Family Guy. And talk. And wear pajamas.
Gross.
Gross but everybody wants it.
Truthies.
Z was there surprisingly enough.
I kissed her maybe 400 times because she says she is moving to Tuscany.
What the fuck is that.
Anyway apparently she existed in a space and time where 169 Bar became a rave powered by the fuel of flannel wearing rainbow spirits.
Happens all the time.
Speaking of spirits, Crystal and JJ like to pretend they are sisters in some alternate life but when you see a picture of them side my side they have absolutely zero resemblance to eachother.
But they are both funny and cute and spunky as a couple of sexy kittens.
So I guess that settles that.
I like how this guy claimed to be Zacks manager and asked us if knew the real on how he was going to Blow Up.
Thats when Irealized I'm immature because my very defensive retort was:
YEAH WELL DID YOU KNOW HIM WHEN HE WAS LIKE 10 YEARS OLD? CAUSE I DID. SO. YEAH.
Love that kid.
Really.
Then we went to Sweet P and I was getting sleepy so I went home.
Rephrase:
Then we went to Sweet P and I stayed for one drink then slunk (slinked?) off without saying my adieus to anyone.
Classic jerk status.
If you cared about none of that, let me try to be fair and leave you with some hilarity.
Please check the white lady's grill.
Good night my lil waynes.
AIM IM with turksey.
4:37 PM
Krissy: whats thenews
Jeylan: JUST AWESOME NEWS
AWESOME NEWS
it's the new call me
Krissy:oh great
my new thing is Oh hai.
surprised.
even when you arent surprised.
and also.
'last time i checked'
but not ever checking
Hi JJ I'm glad we're friends.
Also I think Conrad made up that whole awesome news thing.
So whatever.
Last night I went to that gallery on Broome to see Piece Process.
It was pretty intriguing.
There was the option of wheat beer or rye beer.
Samantha thinks the rye tasted like organic shampoo.
Right on.
Too bad I'm allergic to wheat because that beer was pretty yummies.
That is what Olivia looks like drinking it, in case you were wondering.
I think that picture might annoy Olivia but thats too bad because I think she looks like some hot bitch who once lived in France with an older successful man who speaks seven languages, has always had gray hair, and is only attracted to women with green eyes and toned calves.
If you want to imagine what some of the (worse) pieces on display looked like, reference this photograph:
This is some conceptual art installation I made with a 2 year old at work.
Take that as you will.
Katie and I walked really slowly around the gallery about 4 inches from the wall talking shit about 50 percent of the work. The other 50 percent we wanted to buy.
Then Katie looked like she was going to sleep.
This piece of dumb was on the wall with the Warhol and Basquiat and other famous shitty shit. I like it but don't want to admit it because that would be cliche of me.
Sammy saw this and said
That is the size of my future husband.
Please try to imagine that.
Look at his tiny useless legs.
We really didn't stay long.
We left to go 169 Bar which I hadnt been to in ages. Ages meaning literally years.
This is how far ahead Jiwon and Denise walked.
I think they were playing a game called 'how fast can we get there and how secretly'
Also looking at this I notice the absolute staggering amount of rubbish.
There is truly shit everywhere downtown.
It looks like we live in the Hoovervilles.
For those of you who slept through high school, those are the shantytowns built by travelers during the Depression.
Get a brain.
So 169 Bar has improved vastly.
Its bizarrely charming.
Is bizarrely a word I don't know.
We all sat in the back by a blue lamp with a homemade shade.
Then I had to experiment taking the shade off to see if girls look beautiful in blue.
Fact: They do.
Shade on works too.
Olivia gets my phone in her hands and suddenly taking good pictures is a piece of fucking cake.
Mmm cake.
I'm becoming that annoying person who sticks their iphone in everyones face trying to figure out how to make the pictures not look like shit.
It's hard and people don't like how invasive it is.
Too bad fools!
Actually the only person who truly hates when I do it is Denise.
Last night I think she came really close to punching me in the mouth.
This whole situation happened.
Sure.
Zack Teddy Quim and some other guy in a band.
Zack singing like a little angel.
Quim being a swaying keyboard player.
It was literally fascinating.
It was gripping.
I was expecting Teddy to go on stage and rap about dragging girls in the woods to kill them.
Instead, the universe imploded and they played a bunch of love songs.
So good.
I also talked Marty's ear off about how geigh it is to be single when all you want to do is sit home with someone you love and eat candy. And maybe watch Family Guy. And talk. And wear pajamas.
Gross.
Gross but everybody wants it.
Truthies.
Z was there surprisingly enough.
I kissed her maybe 400 times because she says she is moving to Tuscany.
What the fuck is that.
Anyway apparently she existed in a space and time where 169 Bar became a rave powered by the fuel of flannel wearing rainbow spirits.
Happens all the time.
Speaking of spirits, Crystal and JJ like to pretend they are sisters in some alternate life but when you see a picture of them side my side they have absolutely zero resemblance to eachother.
But they are both funny and cute and spunky as a couple of sexy kittens.
So I guess that settles that.
I like how this guy claimed to be Zacks manager and asked us if knew the real on how he was going to Blow Up.
Thats when Irealized I'm immature because my very defensive retort was:
YEAH WELL DID YOU KNOW HIM WHEN HE WAS LIKE 10 YEARS OLD? CAUSE I DID. SO. YEAH.
Love that kid.
Really.
Then we went to Sweet P and I was getting sleepy so I went home.
Rephrase:
Then we went to Sweet P and I stayed for one drink then slunk (slinked?) off without saying my adieus to anyone.
Classic jerk status.
If you cared about none of that, let me try to be fair and leave you with some hilarity.
Please check the white lady's grill.
Good night my lil waynes.
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