I could listen to these noises all day.
I feel like my home is the sea even thought its terrifying.
Right now thinking about how cool and dark it is with all those creaking sounds and the lull.
Its like being awesomely dead!
PS Side note: everyone go see Inglorious Basterds right now.
Best movie of the year.
Frealtho.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Holler please.
Sew, I think I might go on a date tomorrow.
That means one of two things for you, blog reader/stalker.
A. It will go horrible and I will be able to tell you all the glorious details. Then none of us will know whether to laugh or cry.
B. It will be good, therefor I will share zero details and I will start writing his surname in cursive on little pieces of paper. JK I don't do that. JK I totally do that.
Anyway, wish me luck, even though luck doesn't exist dummies.
Its kind of perfect timing matter of fact because tomorrow Venus exits its long torturous existence in retrograde and goes direct.
For more information on this, please email me with the subject line "I'm a total faggot and I want to know more about astrology don't tell anyone"
And I promise to really not tell anyone.
PS.
My cats are so obsessed with me I can't handle it anymore. When people say animals don't feel love, I want to ask them to please come over for one hour and witness.
As I type, they are hovering around me smelling my eyelashes and nudging my hands and meowing. It is so precious and also I want to throw both of them out the window.
So I keep wanting to leave New York.
For Easter aka Disgusting Honey Baked Spiral Cut Ham Day, I went to Jersey to see my mum and Olive came with.
I drank too much and ate a bag of Fritos and cried in the bathroom.
Needless to say it was awesome.
I woke up in the morning with 3 empty Capri Suns on the floor by the bed and a killer headache. I'm pretty sure it was off the scale galpal shit going on.
One of my oldest and most inappropriate friends.
Holler please.
PS she is the only person in the universe that I don't hate for having piercings in her face.
And if I did have a problem with it, she would rearrange all of my internal organs with her bare hands.
Then rip my vagina off with maniacal brute strength.
Sometimes it is weird to me that Jeylan and I grew up around the corner from eachother. And we still sort of live around the corner from each other, only in a different state.
Its because we are codependant. Fuck off.
Hi, these are the people I love.
Murphs face is the real.
Hi Bestie.
That ugly ass facial expression will never stop my deep deep love.
You know best friend loyalty when you decide its time to lay on the floor and ask them, "what will I do when I die and we're apart?"
and they respond, "Oh honey, that won't happen" then roll their eyes and hug you.
Strangely enough, I'm pretty sure that if there are two humans who can defeat the rules of death in order to not have to be separated, its me and Alisha.
No big whoop.
Enough of that.
Olive wanted to take pictures at the beach the next day so we drove to Deal Beach, which just so hapens to be where HER mom had a summer house as a kid.
Heres me documenting her documenting to send a picture text to her mom in Hollywood.
Complicated?
Pay attention and it won't be.
I took of my shoes for photo shoot time despite the fact that the sand was cold as Canadian balls.
The majesty of the ocean makes it all worthwhile.
As a general rule, fillins in affluent suburban communities are a stupid look.
Olive gazing at the sea for her Popeye.
Hopefully there will be one or two pictures of me not scowling in the 48 rolls of film Olive shot.
Look what I found!
I tried to absorb the powers of Fin Raziel.
I can't tell if it worked yet.
Hey nerd, stop talking about Willow all the time.
OK sorry.
Its just a really good movie on all fronts.
Moral of the story.
I don't feel like blogging anymore because Molly is here.
My friends are cute.
I like the ocean.
The ocean likes me back.
I hate wearing shoes.
I love Fritos.
I'm having a weird hair day.
Wish me luck on my crappy date.
Holler Please.
That means one of two things for you, blog reader/stalker.
A. It will go horrible and I will be able to tell you all the glorious details. Then none of us will know whether to laugh or cry.
B. It will be good, therefor I will share zero details and I will start writing his surname in cursive on little pieces of paper. JK I don't do that. JK I totally do that.
Anyway, wish me luck, even though luck doesn't exist dummies.
Its kind of perfect timing matter of fact because tomorrow Venus exits its long torturous existence in retrograde and goes direct.
For more information on this, please email me with the subject line "I'm a total faggot and I want to know more about astrology don't tell anyone"
And I promise to really not tell anyone.
PS.
My cats are so obsessed with me I can't handle it anymore. When people say animals don't feel love, I want to ask them to please come over for one hour and witness.
As I type, they are hovering around me smelling my eyelashes and nudging my hands and meowing. It is so precious and also I want to throw both of them out the window.
So I keep wanting to leave New York.
For Easter aka Disgusting Honey Baked Spiral Cut Ham Day, I went to Jersey to see my mum and Olive came with.
I drank too much and ate a bag of Fritos and cried in the bathroom.
Needless to say it was awesome.
I woke up in the morning with 3 empty Capri Suns on the floor by the bed and a killer headache. I'm pretty sure it was off the scale galpal shit going on.
One of my oldest and most inappropriate friends.
Holler please.
PS she is the only person in the universe that I don't hate for having piercings in her face.
And if I did have a problem with it, she would rearrange all of my internal organs with her bare hands.
Then rip my vagina off with maniacal brute strength.
Sometimes it is weird to me that Jeylan and I grew up around the corner from eachother. And we still sort of live around the corner from each other, only in a different state.
Its because we are codependant. Fuck off.
Hi, these are the people I love.
Murphs face is the real.
Hi Bestie.
That ugly ass facial expression will never stop my deep deep love.
You know best friend loyalty when you decide its time to lay on the floor and ask them, "what will I do when I die and we're apart?"
and they respond, "Oh honey, that won't happen" then roll their eyes and hug you.
Strangely enough, I'm pretty sure that if there are two humans who can defeat the rules of death in order to not have to be separated, its me and Alisha.
No big whoop.
Enough of that.
Olive wanted to take pictures at the beach the next day so we drove to Deal Beach, which just so hapens to be where HER mom had a summer house as a kid.
Heres me documenting her documenting to send a picture text to her mom in Hollywood.
Complicated?
Pay attention and it won't be.
I took of my shoes for photo shoot time despite the fact that the sand was cold as Canadian balls.
The majesty of the ocean makes it all worthwhile.
As a general rule, fillins in affluent suburban communities are a stupid look.
Olive gazing at the sea for her Popeye.
Hopefully there will be one or two pictures of me not scowling in the 48 rolls of film Olive shot.
Look what I found!
I tried to absorb the powers of Fin Raziel.
I can't tell if it worked yet.
Hey nerd, stop talking about Willow all the time.
OK sorry.
Its just a really good movie on all fronts.
Moral of the story.
I don't feel like blogging anymore because Molly is here.
My friends are cute.
I like the ocean.
The ocean likes me back.
I hate wearing shoes.
I love Fritos.
I'm having a weird hair day.
Wish me luck on my crappy date.
Holler Please.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Not a Secret!
So there is a website, whosdatedwho.com
This website is genius because everyone is interested in this topic.
On a small personal scale, look at New York.
Hi, its all we talk about. The best goss! Gasp-worthy!
Anyway, I'm watching Traffic tonight and obviously my love for Benicio is eternal.
He is such a squinty fox.
He is Mexican heaven.
He is old and weird and secretive looking.
How cute is it that there are STATS about him and his current tiny beautiful 20 year old girlfriend?
Ahem:
Ana De Armas Benicio Del Toro
Age 20 41
Height 5' 2" 6' 1"
Eyes Green Green
Hair Brown Black
Sign Taurus Aquarius
Natl Spanish American
Occ Actress Actor
What?
Can we make a website like this for non famous people?
Not actually lets never ever do that.
Big news.
One of my favorite people in the world came home today from being abroad.
Hearing her voice was good and seeing her face will be better.
Here is an illustration of why I miss her when she is gone
FagSnuggling
.
This website is genius because everyone is interested in this topic.
On a small personal scale, look at New York.
Hi, its all we talk about. The best goss! Gasp-worthy!
Anyway, I'm watching Traffic tonight and obviously my love for Benicio is eternal.
He is such a squinty fox.
He is Mexican heaven.
He is old and weird and secretive looking.
How cute is it that there are STATS about him and his current tiny beautiful 20 year old girlfriend?
Ahem:
Ana De Armas Benicio Del Toro
Age 20 41
Height 5' 2" 6' 1"
Eyes Green Green
Hair Brown Black
Sign Taurus Aquarius
Natl Spanish American
Occ Actress Actor
What?
Can we make a website like this for non famous people?
Not actually lets never ever do that.
Big news.
One of my favorite people in the world came home today from being abroad.
Hearing her voice was good and seeing her face will be better.
Here is an illustration of why I miss her when she is gone
FagSnuggling
.
Monday, January 5, 2009
I crawl they jog it out
I just cried about 6 times in the last 90 minutes.
Young @ Heart is one of the most touching inspiring life affirming films I've ever seen.
Old happy people singing rock songs.
Big deal.
Well try this 3 minutes on for size.
If that doesn't make you feel something somewhere in yourself, you deserve to die.
The man leading the chorus, Fred, has apparently passed away since the taping.
His voice reminds me of Johnny Cash.
You would think he could have been some legendary person, but he's just a guy who loved his wife for 54 years and did his thing.
The critics pretty unanimously adore this movie, and they rave about the scene where the Young @ Heart singers perform for the inmates at a prison.
There really are so few things you see in film and on television that have any relevance to humanity...
This movie kicks the shit out of 99% of the competish.
I am just blown away completely, so I have to go to bed and try to wake up tomorrow as thankful and joyous and alive as a bunch of 82 year olds.
Young @ Heart is one of the most touching inspiring life affirming films I've ever seen.
Old happy people singing rock songs.
Big deal.
Well try this 3 minutes on for size.
If that doesn't make you feel something somewhere in yourself, you deserve to die.
The man leading the chorus, Fred, has apparently passed away since the taping.
His voice reminds me of Johnny Cash.
You would think he could have been some legendary person, but he's just a guy who loved his wife for 54 years and did his thing.
The critics pretty unanimously adore this movie, and they rave about the scene where the Young @ Heart singers perform for the inmates at a prison.
There really are so few things you see in film and on television that have any relevance to humanity...
This movie kicks the shit out of 99% of the competish.
I am just blown away completely, so I have to go to bed and try to wake up tomorrow as thankful and joyous and alive as a bunch of 82 year olds.
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!
Friday, December 5, 2008
change jar overfloweth
Few unrelated things.
First of all, I use my neti pot twice a day.
Is that excessive?
Could it totally backfire? I don't think so but then again I didn't think anything would happen when I became addicted to nasal spray either.
I really think I have some obsession with shooting things up my nose.
You can take that however you want, if you want to go the illegal white powdery drug way, fine. Whatever. No one is immune to that shit, its like if you could combine the sensation of eating 48 sour patch kids while watching a laser light show sitting on a vibrating chair after drinking 5 cups of coffee and laughing until you could not breathe. All at once. Then maybe add in getting slapped on the ass unexpectedly.
Aside from that, I love the idea of IMPROVING my sinuses.
They have been so so awful for so many years.
Maybe saline will be the solution.
A saline solution!
Oh my god I'm the best.
Next thing.
My two favorite actresses. Both named Kate. (Winslet and Blanchett)
Lets talk about Winslet.
She is starring in the film version of one of my favorite books, The Reader.
Its basically Lolita flipped around.
A cold hearted older woman starts a fucky fuck on the down low relash with a teenage boy. The best part is, about halfway thru the novel you find out she has....drumroll...a SECRET!
I. Love. Secrets.
Its really good, I advise you pick it up.
You could actually borrow it from me if you have a good book to trade.
Yay trades!
Anyway, Katie Wins (we are friends in my mind) looks like my lesbian dream these days.
I bet she smells amazingly comforting, like body sweat plus something floral plus a gentle breath mint.
She is such a killer.
This woman is proof that I should definitely continue drawing in my eyebrows a lil bit too dark.
And that I don't really have to get any thinner.
And that being a teensy bit masculine is absurdly hot.
Unless you are Madonna, in that case it is just terrifying.
Other things.
Last night at the Powerhouse Book holiday party.
I spent at least 30 minutes getting hit on by the security guard. Do you understand. In a huge space filled with authors, photographers, editors, etc.
I get hit on by the 40 year old ex Navy guy whos working the door.
He tried to pick me up by asking if I was on my way to grandmas house.
Why?
Because I was wearing a plaid wool coat and boots with red laces.
Apparently I looked young and molestable.
Anyway, how weird that Katie picked up a book and it was the Nerve book. Liv and Sam have both shot for them and looky here!
One of Sams photos of Stephanie Portoooooooo!
Mhm.
Later night things.
1. It is really hard to get a cab in windy ass Dumbo.
2. I love Raf and Chiara.
Sidenote:
Raf was at the bar getting a beer and Chiara and I are wondering, who's that weird guy hes talking to?
What are they talking about?
Chiara says Oh actually I think that's Bill Murray's son.
Um ok.
Long story short, it is in fact Young Murray.
He wears all black and is funny looking and left with a girl who definitely looked like she has a penis and testicles.
The End!
I like how everytime I see Raf I call him a mulatto.
Part of me knows full well hes a god damn Puerto Rican.
I doubt he thinks its all that funny but he also doesn't seem to mind.
Fact: There is no worse time to have your photo taken than when you are eating a piece of pizza.
Fact: There was a pool shark at Max Fish last night.
Fact number 3: After challenging Raf to a drinking contest, I got one drink at above pictured bar, and walked home.
I am quickly becoming a total faggette.
First of all, I use my neti pot twice a day.
Is that excessive?
Could it totally backfire? I don't think so but then again I didn't think anything would happen when I became addicted to nasal spray either.
I really think I have some obsession with shooting things up my nose.
You can take that however you want, if you want to go the illegal white powdery drug way, fine. Whatever. No one is immune to that shit, its like if you could combine the sensation of eating 48 sour patch kids while watching a laser light show sitting on a vibrating chair after drinking 5 cups of coffee and laughing until you could not breathe. All at once. Then maybe add in getting slapped on the ass unexpectedly.
Aside from that, I love the idea of IMPROVING my sinuses.
They have been so so awful for so many years.
Maybe saline will be the solution.
A saline solution!
Oh my god I'm the best.
Next thing.
My two favorite actresses. Both named Kate. (Winslet and Blanchett)
Lets talk about Winslet.
She is starring in the film version of one of my favorite books, The Reader.
Its basically Lolita flipped around.
A cold hearted older woman starts a fucky fuck on the down low relash with a teenage boy. The best part is, about halfway thru the novel you find out she has....drumroll...a SECRET!
I. Love. Secrets.
Its really good, I advise you pick it up.
You could actually borrow it from me if you have a good book to trade.
Yay trades!
Anyway, Katie Wins (we are friends in my mind) looks like my lesbian dream these days.
I bet she smells amazingly comforting, like body sweat plus something floral plus a gentle breath mint.
She is such a killer.
This woman is proof that I should definitely continue drawing in my eyebrows a lil bit too dark.
And that I don't really have to get any thinner.
And that being a teensy bit masculine is absurdly hot.
Unless you are Madonna, in that case it is just terrifying.
Other things.
Last night at the Powerhouse Book holiday party.
I spent at least 30 minutes getting hit on by the security guard. Do you understand. In a huge space filled with authors, photographers, editors, etc.
I get hit on by the 40 year old ex Navy guy whos working the door.
He tried to pick me up by asking if I was on my way to grandmas house.
Why?
Because I was wearing a plaid wool coat and boots with red laces.
Apparently I looked young and molestable.
Anyway, how weird that Katie picked up a book and it was the Nerve book. Liv and Sam have both shot for them and looky here!
One of Sams photos of Stephanie Portoooooooo!
Mhm.
Later night things.
1. It is really hard to get a cab in windy ass Dumbo.
2. I love Raf and Chiara.
Sidenote:
Raf was at the bar getting a beer and Chiara and I are wondering, who's that weird guy hes talking to?
What are they talking about?
Chiara says Oh actually I think that's Bill Murray's son.
Um ok.
Long story short, it is in fact Young Murray.
He wears all black and is funny looking and left with a girl who definitely looked like she has a penis and testicles.
The End!
I like how everytime I see Raf I call him a mulatto.
Part of me knows full well hes a god damn Puerto Rican.
I doubt he thinks its all that funny but he also doesn't seem to mind.
Fact: There is no worse time to have your photo taken than when you are eating a piece of pizza.
Fact: There was a pool shark at Max Fish last night.
Fact number 3: After challenging Raf to a drinking contest, I got one drink at above pictured bar, and walked home.
I am quickly becoming a total faggette.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
stupes
Oh shes a rare one that Krissy.
I'm basically on bit of a downward spiral into the oblivion right now.
Its bizarre and cynical and almost repugnant.
I hate pretty much everything including ..... ME!
Well I don't hate my girlfriends they are the true saving grace. (TallyDeadDead counts as one of my girlfriends despite that pesky penis he is packing)
Here are some boring stories for you to read about what I did this weekend.
My whole life is now one slightly lame weekend by the way.
Halloween, yet another holiday I do not like.
Before the mane effect.
And after.
Tresses are still in recovery.
Not happy about hairspray.
I am not a product person.
Hi, I wash my face with generic liquid soap.
Low maints.
Stephanie and Liv looked amazing, as Palin and a Robert Palmer girl, respectively.
I missed out on taking a picture of D, who was a Cool Breeze. She had wind chimes hanging from her sleeve, and a very non peaceful mini fan to create the actual wind effect. And she wore blue. And some glitter.
It was one of those situations where the theory of the costume and the end result were not in tune completely. I have been in that boat, pretty much everytime I look in the mirror. I'm like hm I want a "90s Liv Tyler turned biker chic look" but I think I'm just creating a "bisexual preteen who plans on attending art school in the future" look.
I Digress...
I will say; D can do no wrong in my book because she is one of the great women of this rotten hellhole city. So she could be a toilet for Halloween and i would have thought it charming.
Anyway I would talk about how we went to this party and it was crazy and fun and the free tequila kept me in reverie but I would be lying and I hate lying.
I was a total sourpuss.
But there was this huge horse thing, that was neat.
The four trillion people there were mostly dressed as dead versions of things, which is cute and fun I guess.
Anyway I was a total faggot and ended up walking home around 1am. Down Canal Street. Alone. Worst idea ever. No offense to the great state I grew up in, but the streets were infected with horrendous bridge and tunnel boys yelling to me about being a sad lion and going "Rarrrrr!"
Every car that drove by me and honked was either blaring TI (white men love him) or 103.5 KTU. Oh, KTU. You still have La Bouche on heavy rotation.
Very. Unfortunate.
Also unfortunate.
Bad movies.
Pam and I rented The Invasion.
This was the only good part.
Bloody things and Nicole Kidman and a very weird child actor and alien spores and a lot of vomit.
And Daniel Craig. Naturally.
So yeah, movies in my apartment.
Soon as Pam left I started to paint walls and furniture in my office.
Then I took a partial wall down.
Around midnight.
Then I tried to clean out the fireplace.
I am not kidding about any of these things.
I am a total mess of a person currently.
To try to end my weirdo "I don't leave the house for more than 5 minutes" phase, I met D in that nightmare of a place they call Brooknah to go celebrate Day of the Dead.
We drank margaritas for a few hours and were kindly pestered by this old Panamanian man.
*note the wacky accordian player in the backround. Ill mariachi/jewish wedding/greek party/irish war song/latin dance off/johnny cash cover tunes. I swear to god they actually played all of those things.
Anyway, pepaw kept taking out money from his shirt pocket, and we kept accepting the drinks.
I tried to get deep on him so I could destroy my negative vibes. I asked if he had any advice on being happy. He told me he doesn't know. That he married a Puerto Rican girl once and he loved her but thats all over now. He said he makes a lot of money and he's "super single" and likes to dance.
All of this was said in nearly impossible to comprehend Spanglish.
Who taught him the phrase super single" I have no clue.
After awhile he got mad at me for not paying enough attention to him and he left.
Denise didn't get marauded by Old Panama nearly as much as I did, but she had a very homely buzz cut lesbian trying to kick game to her for awhile.
Shrug it out
The shrines in this bar were basically hot to death.
Then Soner and Gary came and we had to switch locations because thats what you do when you're drinking I guess.
You keep moving so you don't forget.
It's like when your freezing to death in the woods.
You had better not sit down to "take a little nap" because you will definitely die in your sleep.
Hypothermia and social drinking?
Yes I do see a connection.
Fuck off.
Where do you go in BK when you don't know what to do.
The dreaded Union Pool.
That is the only answer.
Denise had the bright idea of moving to Tequila Sunrises.
They tasted exactly like hard candy.
Soner looks like a walking advertisement for Williamsburg.
If that sounds mean, its not supposed to be.
I make that mistake, sounding like a horrible bitch when I'm just making an observation.
I am tired of this story about Brooknah.
Point is, I made it out there.
So yeah, maybe I'll be back again in like 6 months.
Sigh.
Today I saw B, who I've felt two emotions about since she left for her road trip so many moons ago...
1. I've missed her!
2. I've been annoyed that she has no idea what to do with her life and is slightly bummed about it some days. I have concluded that I find this annoying because I refuse to admit I am feeling the EXACT same way about my own sitch. When will the pieces come together, thats what I wanna know.
Anyway we chatted lots and went for a walk to 99 cent BJ
*hollerrrrrrr best dollar store in the area*
Heres a taste of the exquisite merchandise
hey baby I like how when i look at your boobs I think of a cartoon for 5 year olds
superb packaging aesthetic
these are puffy plastic sleeves.
you put on.
when you're cleaning.
as to not get your real sleeves dirty.
anyone who can tell me WHY that phrase is on the package wins me.
as a slave.
for life.
two of everything thats what I always say.
B is Corey Haim
I wrote and rewrote about 5 things about this picture.
I don't think any of them said what i want so I leave that to you.
We purchased nothing.
Walked to the pharmacy for allergy pills.
Saw Teen Spirit in the deoderant aisle.
I ended up inhaling a stick of men's Right Guard for about ten minutes.
I considered buying it and taking it home to put somewhere along with other things I'm ashamed of.
I was thinking maybe I would take it out and smell it once in awhile.
That's how much I love the stink of a man!
If that makes me sound like a complete lunatic, I will be that.
On final note.
I will be visiting this very creepy website daily, which has almost the same domain name as B's.
If you have a vagina, too much spare time, and a sad sad existence, please also visit here to dress up baby emo dolls/manga tweens in corsets and tiny top hats.
I am absolutely serious.
Heres me and Biancas
I can't wait til all of you assholes are sitting at work, gripped by the desire to create these ridiculous things.
You can thank me later.
I'm basically on bit of a downward spiral into the oblivion right now.
Its bizarre and cynical and almost repugnant.
I hate pretty much everything including ..... ME!
Well I don't hate my girlfriends they are the true saving grace. (TallyDeadDead counts as one of my girlfriends despite that pesky penis he is packing)
Here are some boring stories for you to read about what I did this weekend.
My whole life is now one slightly lame weekend by the way.
Halloween, yet another holiday I do not like.
Before the mane effect.
And after.
Tresses are still in recovery.
Not happy about hairspray.
I am not a product person.
Hi, I wash my face with generic liquid soap.
Low maints.
Stephanie and Liv looked amazing, as Palin and a Robert Palmer girl, respectively.
I missed out on taking a picture of D, who was a Cool Breeze. She had wind chimes hanging from her sleeve, and a very non peaceful mini fan to create the actual wind effect. And she wore blue. And some glitter.
It was one of those situations where the theory of the costume and the end result were not in tune completely. I have been in that boat, pretty much everytime I look in the mirror. I'm like hm I want a "90s Liv Tyler turned biker chic look" but I think I'm just creating a "bisexual preteen who plans on attending art school in the future" look.
I Digress...
I will say; D can do no wrong in my book because she is one of the great women of this rotten hellhole city. So she could be a toilet for Halloween and i would have thought it charming.
Anyway I would talk about how we went to this party and it was crazy and fun and the free tequila kept me in reverie but I would be lying and I hate lying.
I was a total sourpuss.
But there was this huge horse thing, that was neat.
The four trillion people there were mostly dressed as dead versions of things, which is cute and fun I guess.
Anyway I was a total faggot and ended up walking home around 1am. Down Canal Street. Alone. Worst idea ever. No offense to the great state I grew up in, but the streets were infected with horrendous bridge and tunnel boys yelling to me about being a sad lion and going "Rarrrrr!"
Every car that drove by me and honked was either blaring TI (white men love him) or 103.5 KTU. Oh, KTU. You still have La Bouche on heavy rotation.
Very. Unfortunate.
Also unfortunate.
Bad movies.
Pam and I rented The Invasion.
This was the only good part.
Bloody things and Nicole Kidman and a very weird child actor and alien spores and a lot of vomit.
And Daniel Craig. Naturally.
So yeah, movies in my apartment.
Soon as Pam left I started to paint walls and furniture in my office.
Then I took a partial wall down.
Around midnight.
Then I tried to clean out the fireplace.
I am not kidding about any of these things.
I am a total mess of a person currently.
To try to end my weirdo "I don't leave the house for more than 5 minutes" phase, I met D in that nightmare of a place they call Brooknah to go celebrate Day of the Dead.
We drank margaritas for a few hours and were kindly pestered by this old Panamanian man.
*note the wacky accordian player in the backround. Ill mariachi/jewish wedding/greek party/irish war song/latin dance off/johnny cash cover tunes. I swear to god they actually played all of those things.
Anyway, pepaw kept taking out money from his shirt pocket, and we kept accepting the drinks.
I tried to get deep on him so I could destroy my negative vibes. I asked if he had any advice on being happy. He told me he doesn't know. That he married a Puerto Rican girl once and he loved her but thats all over now. He said he makes a lot of money and he's "super single" and likes to dance.
All of this was said in nearly impossible to comprehend Spanglish.
Who taught him the phrase super single" I have no clue.
After awhile he got mad at me for not paying enough attention to him and he left.
Denise didn't get marauded by Old Panama nearly as much as I did, but she had a very homely buzz cut lesbian trying to kick game to her for awhile.
Shrug it out
The shrines in this bar were basically hot to death.
Then Soner and Gary came and we had to switch locations because thats what you do when you're drinking I guess.
You keep moving so you don't forget.
It's like when your freezing to death in the woods.
You had better not sit down to "take a little nap" because you will definitely die in your sleep.
Hypothermia and social drinking?
Yes I do see a connection.
Fuck off.
Where do you go in BK when you don't know what to do.
The dreaded Union Pool.
That is the only answer.
Denise had the bright idea of moving to Tequila Sunrises.
They tasted exactly like hard candy.
Soner looks like a walking advertisement for Williamsburg.
If that sounds mean, its not supposed to be.
I make that mistake, sounding like a horrible bitch when I'm just making an observation.
I am tired of this story about Brooknah.
Point is, I made it out there.
So yeah, maybe I'll be back again in like 6 months.
Sigh.
Today I saw B, who I've felt two emotions about since she left for her road trip so many moons ago...
1. I've missed her!
2. I've been annoyed that she has no idea what to do with her life and is slightly bummed about it some days. I have concluded that I find this annoying because I refuse to admit I am feeling the EXACT same way about my own sitch. When will the pieces come together, thats what I wanna know.
Anyway we chatted lots and went for a walk to 99 cent BJ
*hollerrrrrrr best dollar store in the area*
Heres a taste of the exquisite merchandise
hey baby I like how when i look at your boobs I think of a cartoon for 5 year olds
superb packaging aesthetic
these are puffy plastic sleeves.
you put on.
when you're cleaning.
as to not get your real sleeves dirty.
anyone who can tell me WHY that phrase is on the package wins me.
as a slave.
for life.
two of everything thats what I always say.
B is Corey Haim
I wrote and rewrote about 5 things about this picture.
I don't think any of them said what i want so I leave that to you.
We purchased nothing.
Walked to the pharmacy for allergy pills.
Saw Teen Spirit in the deoderant aisle.
I ended up inhaling a stick of men's Right Guard for about ten minutes.
I considered buying it and taking it home to put somewhere along with other things I'm ashamed of.
I was thinking maybe I would take it out and smell it once in awhile.
That's how much I love the stink of a man!
If that makes me sound like a complete lunatic, I will be that.
On final note.
I will be visiting this very creepy website daily, which has almost the same domain name as B's.
If you have a vagina, too much spare time, and a sad sad existence, please also visit here to dress up baby emo dolls/manga tweens in corsets and tiny top hats.
I am absolutely serious.
Heres me and Biancas
I can't wait til all of you assholes are sitting at work, gripped by the desire to create these ridiculous things.
You can thank me later.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Cabin Feevs.
Ask me.
Are you still sick?
Lil bit, lil bit.
Still having sinus dramatics, endless headache, etcetera.
BUT. Good news hip hoppers.
I found super penicillin mega cure in a drawer in my room. Oh, old prescriptions, how you shine light in the darkness.
So I've been in the CaveShip (the GypsyDen becomes the CaveShip starting in October, and sorta transitions into the DeadLogCabin by winter)
I've been watching many movies, mostly with a certain someone who falls asleep before the opening credits have been completed. (its more cute/endearing then it sounds)
The most amazing re-discovery was this:
A) Mark Dubs is so gross in this movie. He whispers everything for the first hour, then starts the screaming so we all know hes a murderous freak.
B) the above statement does not take away from the fact that he is a total piece of foxtail and I would hit it. BUT, I would probably be annoyed that he is sort of prettier than me and I would def make him wear a muzzle. His "lemme sweet talk you, guuurl" voice is horrifying.
C) 1996 was a great year for music fashion and cheeseballness.
D) this movie is way up there on the list of things I could watch weekly and conitnue to sweat a little bit.
E) the fingering on the roller coaster scene? Totes classic. And weird. Hey, remember when we were 16??? It was so awesomely bad! Miss you, 16!
Also, I tried to watch Tropic of Thunder but ended up switching to this:
Some things about it were funny, such as the premise???
Also the cast is pretty dreamy.
I don't recommend this movie unless you are under the influence of something, or you're really really open in terms of free time.
But I will watch anything where Will Arnett makes an appearance, so there you go.
I wish I could be the baby inside Amy Poehlers belly so I could spend my life with the two of them.
But, the problem with that is, I want to make sweet love to Will Arnett.
Can't really do that when you're literally his baby.
So no.
I maybe want to just die and be the ghost that haunts their house. Just watch them be funny and cute all day.
Or the simplest thing we be if I just saw them eating dinner one day and was sitting at the table next t them and they were like "Hey that girl seems as UNBELIEVABLY amusing as we are, she should join us!"
Then I would, and it would be hours and hours of pure golden laughter, then Poehls would be like "Hey, you know, I have a great idea. Would you mind making out with my husband for a few hours, I have to return some tapes. Theeeinks!"
Then I would.
It would be perfect!
Don't front I belong right there with them. Yes, i really do.
It's the Final Countdown.
I also watched Monster yesterday which is CRAZY because today is the anniversary of Aileen Wuournos being put to death.
No I am not kidding, yes I am a psychic and totally in tune with the cosmos.
Big deal.
I have hardly set foot in the streets this week, so right after this I think I have to go on a very long bike ride to cure myself. I need to breathe air that I don't share with my cats. They are really cramping my personal space right now.
Newsflash:
1.
This guy is one of the tellers at the Chase bank nearby.
His name tag says Jacky Chan.
I like that a lot.
2.
Jeylanjim and I have been doing this for awhile and are always too drunk to photograph it.
Its our hair twisted together and its called Dark Chocolate and Butterscotch.
Its very gay and you're also jealous.
You should be.
3.
Lil Frankies is maybe the only place I've been out socially in weeks.
That is weird to me.
J has been in rare form.
Those pictures were taken about 30 seconds apart.
Wow your state of existence is so quickly altered.
Good times all around.
Its kind of a mixture between weirdest thing ever and most awesome thing ever to hang out with "co-workers" at your "bosses" bar.
I feel like I live in a sitcom.
That would obviously have to air on FX or something.
Throw this one if for good measure:
This nutbag made me a Grey Goose and soda when I asked for a Stoli and soda.
When I told her I'm allergic to Grey Goose because its made from a different kind of wheat, she laughed in my face and basically told me to shut up and drink it.
OK then barkeep, thanks for the concern.
You get a pass simply for being awesome, no other reason.
That and the free booze.
xo!
I have to go ride my bike right this second.
Goodbye for now blog.
Are you still sick?
Lil bit, lil bit.
Still having sinus dramatics, endless headache, etcetera.
BUT. Good news hip hoppers.
I found super penicillin mega cure in a drawer in my room. Oh, old prescriptions, how you shine light in the darkness.
So I've been in the CaveShip (the GypsyDen becomes the CaveShip starting in October, and sorta transitions into the DeadLogCabin by winter)
I've been watching many movies, mostly with a certain someone who falls asleep before the opening credits have been completed. (its more cute/endearing then it sounds)
The most amazing re-discovery was this:
A) Mark Dubs is so gross in this movie. He whispers everything for the first hour, then starts the screaming so we all know hes a murderous freak.
B) the above statement does not take away from the fact that he is a total piece of foxtail and I would hit it. BUT, I would probably be annoyed that he is sort of prettier than me and I would def make him wear a muzzle. His "lemme sweet talk you, guuurl" voice is horrifying.
C) 1996 was a great year for music fashion and cheeseballness.
D) this movie is way up there on the list of things I could watch weekly and conitnue to sweat a little bit.
E) the fingering on the roller coaster scene? Totes classic. And weird. Hey, remember when we were 16??? It was so awesomely bad! Miss you, 16!
Also, I tried to watch Tropic of Thunder but ended up switching to this:
Some things about it were funny, such as the premise???
Also the cast is pretty dreamy.
I don't recommend this movie unless you are under the influence of something, or you're really really open in terms of free time.
But I will watch anything where Will Arnett makes an appearance, so there you go.
I wish I could be the baby inside Amy Poehlers belly so I could spend my life with the two of them.
But, the problem with that is, I want to make sweet love to Will Arnett.
Can't really do that when you're literally his baby.
So no.
I maybe want to just die and be the ghost that haunts their house. Just watch them be funny and cute all day.
Or the simplest thing we be if I just saw them eating dinner one day and was sitting at the table next t them and they were like "Hey that girl seems as UNBELIEVABLY amusing as we are, she should join us!"
Then I would, and it would be hours and hours of pure golden laughter, then Poehls would be like "Hey, you know, I have a great idea. Would you mind making out with my husband for a few hours, I have to return some tapes. Theeeinks!"
Then I would.
It would be perfect!
Don't front I belong right there with them. Yes, i really do.
It's the Final Countdown.
I also watched Monster yesterday which is CRAZY because today is the anniversary of Aileen Wuournos being put to death.
No I am not kidding, yes I am a psychic and totally in tune with the cosmos.
Big deal.
I have hardly set foot in the streets this week, so right after this I think I have to go on a very long bike ride to cure myself. I need to breathe air that I don't share with my cats. They are really cramping my personal space right now.
Newsflash:
1.
This guy is one of the tellers at the Chase bank nearby.
His name tag says Jacky Chan.
I like that a lot.
2.
Jeylanjim and I have been doing this for awhile and are always too drunk to photograph it.
Its our hair twisted together and its called Dark Chocolate and Butterscotch.
Its very gay and you're also jealous.
You should be.
3.
Lil Frankies is maybe the only place I've been out socially in weeks.
That is weird to me.
J has been in rare form.
Those pictures were taken about 30 seconds apart.
Wow your state of existence is so quickly altered.
Good times all around.
Its kind of a mixture between weirdest thing ever and most awesome thing ever to hang out with "co-workers" at your "bosses" bar.
I feel like I live in a sitcom.
That would obviously have to air on FX or something.
Throw this one if for good measure:
This nutbag made me a Grey Goose and soda when I asked for a Stoli and soda.
When I told her I'm allergic to Grey Goose because its made from a different kind of wheat, she laughed in my face and basically told me to shut up and drink it.
OK then barkeep, thanks for the concern.
You get a pass simply for being awesome, no other reason.
That and the free booze.
xo!
I have to go ride my bike right this second.
Goodbye for now blog.
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