Jung/mammal/new york city/bill clintonesque

I'm watching The PickUp Artist on VH1.
I don't need to explain how maddening it is.

At the very least, it's prompted some brain activity re: what humans want.
Herd mentality/collective unconscious is something I find to be pretty radical.
You do things because other people do them.
You wear things and say things and demean things for reasons seemingly unbeknownst to you.
But its not that complicated, we just do as we see. If we see something is accepted amongst our peers, we continue on with the confidence that we won't be shunned.

Maybe there are some of us who have greater power against the crowd:

CHARISMA...
Though very difficult or even impossible to define accurately (due to a lack of widely accepted criteria in regard to the trait), charisma is often used to describe an elusive, even undefinable personality trait that often includes the seemingly 'supernatural' or uncanny ability to lead, charm, persuade, inspire, and/or influence people. It refers especially to a quality in certain people who easily draw the attention and admiration (or even hatred if the application of such charisma is perceived to be negative) of others due to a 'magnetic' quality of personality and/or appearance. Related terms and phrases include: grace, exuberance, equanimity, mystique, positive energy, joie de vivre, extreme charm, personal magnetism, personal appeal, "electricity," and allure, among many others[1]. Usually many of these specific qualities must be present within a single individual for the person to be considered highly charismatic by the public and their peers.

Despite the strong emotions they so often induce in others, charismatic individuals generally project unusual calmness, confidence, assertiveness, dominance, authenticity, and focus, and almost always possess superb communication and/or oratorical skills. Although the etymology of the word ("divine gift") might suggest that charisma can't be acquired, and despite the persistent inability to accurately define or even fully understand the concept, it is believed that charisma can be taught and/or learned




I wouldn't call it vanity, but I think a lot of people in my life would definitively state that they possess high amounts of charisma.
The crowd you find yourself in is often somewhat a reflection or yourself, so in turn, I would have to say I myself, might be pretty fucking charismatic.

I feel like this whole topic comes down to "good on paper" vs a literal "human powerhouse of joie de vivre"

Its not where you got your shoes.
Its not who you're dating.
Its not how your hair smells or when you got yer nails did.
Its not how many drinks you can get for free/consume at which party.
Its not even really where you work or who knows your name.
Its not the street you grew up on.
Its not how many times you graced the pages of culture mags.

All that shit helps maybe?

But you're either at the back of the herd or the front.

Or just ride dolo?
I currently endorse that option.

Fer pizzazz?

Fridays never were all that dope

Warning:

If you talk to me today tomorrow or anytime soon, I will probably say something I don't mean.

I have thrown my cats numerous times today.

I have maybe never been this randomly angry in my whole life.


So at least the Beware is on the table.

PS

How did I forget seeing Bjork last night?

I told her she looks about 25 years old.

She said, "Are you taking a piss??"

Which I wasn't.
She seriously looks about 20 years younger than she is.

Great job.

Anxiety attack party.

Did that.
For about 4 hours.
Saw basically everyone I've ever known in New York.
Sort of.


Coming home is good.

But.
Not a man for miles.

If you wanna set me up on the matchmaker tip I'm ok with it.

PS all men love my plaid wool coat.
They are not hitting on me, they just want to know where I bought it.
This depresses me.
Every time.

Also, I am pretty sure I saw the reincarnation of Fat Joe tonight.

You wouldn't pass the initiation.

S'been a week.
What I was doing:


This is what it looks like when me and Moll have happy hour.





This is what it looks like when your Valentines date is a glass of booze.


I was just yesterday ranting about how much I hate when people make certain faces for the camera.

My least favorite is the myspace self portrait pout.


My second least favorite is the pretend metal head pose.

You make my skin crawl.

Side note.
Large animals in captivity doing that?
Hilarious.


Jeyla gets a pass on the tongue out thing because shes obviously one of the most fantastic people on earth hands down.
Also she is sort of hiding beneath the ill druid hood which automatically means everything she does is partially invisible and therefor nbd.

Speaking of hood invisibility, it is one of my favorite things.
This is because I am insecure about my face.
I went to Dre Day at Santos and was in the quietest mood of my life so I kept my jacket on and hood up and lemme tell you.
What a diff.
I was THERE and NOT THERE all at once.
Its like magik.
Also magik.
This thing.

More magik?
Crip walking jews and lots of doofus looking white guys with R-tard strength.
Because. That was who attended Dre Day.
Good times.
Wish you were there.


Got a package from Greece.
Full of tzatziki, what else?

Whoops, home address on blast.


Jey wore Nike spandex to go eat sushi.
It was all about raw sea creatures, sake, and the booty.
And rape.
That how it works on No Rules Tuesday.

The official photo for my sentiments about No Rules Tuesday:

Tht kids parents are def full blown Swede.


Saw this in an old reference book in my psychiatrists office.
I wanna know more about brainz.
I want to know why there is no such thing as the right song to listen to if you are still awake at 530am.
Also, why was Sex In The 90s the best show ever made?
In addition, why does beer for dinner ever present itself as a 'great idea'?

All week I've been making a mess of my apartment and thinking about spicy food and wasting money and feeling like shit.
I'm not unhappy at all, just super irresponsible.
I was talking to my dear mum about leaving the Gypsy Den of Chinatown behind come fall.
It is amazingly daunting to think of being somewhere else.
The image I get in my mind is being on the 5th floor of some walk up in the east village, being blinded by the sun streaming in the window.
Plants surviving in the kitchenette.
No more leaky pipes.
No roommate.
An actual door to the bathroom.

Sounds like a fucking nightmare if you ask me.

But all things must come to an end.
The era of the basement dweller has been in full effect for years and maybe its not good for me anymore.

New Topic.
Hot Topic.
Hot New Topic.
What are you gonna pick?
Hot Pockets?
Mmmm Hot Pockets.


February is almost over, who has the hook up for me for a new bike?
Mine was stolen in October.
I plan to replace it with something small, purple, and dreamy.
Tsst.


In my mind it will be like this.
Only no engine.
And I won't wear that outfit.
And it will go a lot slower.
And I will not be giving rides to girls of mysterious ethnic makeup.

Purify yurself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka.

Girl that aint Lake Minnetonka.

Aaaaaaaand SCENE.

Bring a friend. Just kidding!

I dun know if its the weather, or the Zoloft, or the weather...
But I am surely a happy little lady these days.

Basically, I don't even get sad about going to work in the morning.
I also don't get angry at slight hangovers.
I also don't yell at my mom or faint on the subway.
Wow big deal.
Fuck off, its baby steps.

Can't hurt to be walking through lovely Tribeca, 62 degrees and sunny, and see this:

Hey cotton candy rainbow guy, I'm a cute weeble baby in a puffy jacket, pass me a pink one. Theeeeinks!

I never actually hate New York at all, but the last week or so I fucking love it.
I want to marry it.
I want to have 10 thousand of its babies.
I want to call it on a Tuesday night, every 2-3 minutes, for like 5 hours til it picks up.
You can't do that to a booty call really, unless you just drank about a liter of margarita, but I bet New York wouldn't mind.

Also, totally thought I would be hating on all these Valentimes parties, etc, but I'm kind of not.
Its just an excuse to ask people if they wanna go get a 6 of Coors Light and makeout somewhere.

Someone I will not be asking to make out?
Dan!

But I do luff him and I am super excited that he comes and hangs out with girls and never says mean things or makes fun of you.
Yessssssss.
Left: casual jewwy smirk
Right: unattractive waspy snarl


This shit is like a double date where there is ZERO sexual tension. AKA great job.
Thanks for coming out with us so we don't feel like gross old hags.
*That goes out to all male friends who sometimes buy you a drink and let you dominate 99 percent of conversation telling them things there is no way they are interested in.

At this point, I am totally non depressed about being single because my friends are by far the greatest people to have ever walked the planet earth.
Basically, whenever I feel down, I imagine an inanimate object (pillow, flower, can of beans) with really thin legs and big shoes doing a little dance.
And if that image came alive, told good jokes, gave me hugs, and got drunk with me when I need it, that would sort of describe how awesome my friends are.
Get it?

Its like one of those Tshirts people get on vaca that say "No Rulez"

Ugh what a god damn hassle.
Why I am blogging all early is beyond me, I think its because I'm hungry therefor can't sleep therefor must run my mouth in some fashion and it just so happens there is no one to talk to right now.

Sew.
Last night I went to dirty ass stink Bodega in Bushwick, greatest hood in the world second to Chinatown.
Why is Bushwick any good?
Because all you see there is delis and train tracks and shithole buildings that people in their 20s can afford to live in, thats why.
Anydirtbag,
Bodega is precious if you ask me.
Ed is a total dick, so of course he would open an establishment where the 'bar' looks like this:



Good thing Ed is sort of hot, because he also looks like the god damn devil.
Red hair is terrifying in a 'do me' way.
People with red hair always have creep eyeballs and they are typically spastic and completely all over the place at all times.

Satan texts!!!!
(XO Ed)
Sidenote. Ed is a really good hugger, like picks you up to embrace you.
That is something all men should do because it makes girls feel petite and appreciated.
Thats just a tip for you assholes who dun know how to make a lady feel guuuuhd.


It was about 60 degrees yesterday so we got to wear spring gear aka not really coats


The whole reason I went was because Japanther and Spank Rock and Ninjasonik were 'playing' aka making mad noise. But it turns out that shithole is fun probably no matter what?
Basically every three seconds I would turn around and see someone I never see anymore.
AKA dudes I used to see when I had a dumb boyfriend.
Hi Guys!


Hi Peter.


Hi Soner, Hi _____
Friend on the right got all assed out about me taking pictures...
Oh ok, I just won't write your name because you're mad secretive about nothing.
I heart you anyway. Sort of.


Now that I recollect, there were tons and tons of men everywhere.
JK, boys.
You know men don't go to Japanther shows.
Psht.
Oh. More PS.
Shouts to the dumb bitch at the 'door' who fucking threw out my bottle of booze when I re-entered at like midnight after smoking a cigarette.
Hey guess what. I hate you. No one cared when my bag got checked at 930. You're a pain in my ass. Also, this shit is not a Pratt party circa 2002. Chill.

Long story long, me and Mollah and Denise had lots of fun and sort of danced and I fell off of some kind of speaker.
Also MegaBeth showed up looking super hot which kind of annoyed me because then I felt slightly less attractive in general.
(Mega if you're reading this which I know you are, send me those pictures of us you made people take. Theeeinks.)

Speaking of how I looked.

Lets talk about me.
If one more dude has the retardation audacity to comment on my hair I'm going to slam him in the balls.
Just because I am wearing braids does not mean you ever have the right to pull on them
and say any of the following:

"Heeeey Pocahontaaassssss"
"Oh damn Pippi"
"Hey how old are you???"

If you need to get my attention by being a stupid asshole, you simply show me that you are in fact a stupid asshole.
That means I will never touch your dumb body, or pay any mind to you, or give a shit about your presence in my reality. Please grow up and do not approach me, period. I hope that one day you realize girls hate to be annoyed. Well, I lie, girls like to be annoyed, but only when you are being super witty and adorable.
Shout outs to dudes who did not touch my hair. XO!


I think its pretty amazing how prepared we came.
Molleh flask of tequila, Krisseh flask of vodka, D flask of whiskey.
Kidding?
You wish.






Eds gay lover/bear daddy Andy.
Jking they aren't gay they're just 'close'
Andy always makes me smile because hes absurdly short yet macho.
Adorbs.


I am always intrigued with dungeon status.


This was a double U Tee Eff moment where a bunch of flashes went off on other peoples cameras and I was actually capable of sort of documenting the situation upstairs.

Ninjasonik leads to complete anarchy, I think it has something to do with the fact that they are hip black dudes.
It's like a rule, white BK kids have to start thrashing around punching eachother freaking out because they get so absurdly excited about black guys shouting into microphones over nice beats.
I got elbowed maybe 400 times over the course of 10 minutes.

Its really classic of me to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and Molleh is pretty much the same way so we both randomly skipped out to go home.
Somehow Sam gets worked into that equation and immediately starts bitching about wanting a sandwich.

Screw face complainey snarl.


Then these raging dbags walk in and start saying 'oh hey we were just at the same spot as you wahh wahh wahh meeh mehhhhh mehhhhhhhhhh.'
So Molleh took a picture with them for the sole purpose of me having proof that they are actually wearing Rambo style bandanas with the faces of innocent English schoolboys.
Relax friends, this is not tuff guy territory you don't have to work so hard.
You look like god damn extras for a community production of The Warriors.


I tried to force Sam to get a turkey sandwich which is the cure for all ailments but he was totally stupid and got ham and swiss.
Ew.
I still ate some but thats not the point.
Ham?
Cmon.

Whatever else happened is none of your business because it got all late but heres Molleh with pants that match the walls in her apt buildings baller basement.


Great Job, Wednesday. You really know how to show and improve.

Yoooooo!

Is it much that I feel I need
A solid soul and the blood I bleed
With a little girl, and by my spouse
I only want a proper house

I don't care for fancy things
Or to take part in a precious race
And children cry for the one who has
A real big heart and a father's grace

I don't mean to seem like I care about material things like a social status
I just want four walls and adobe slabs for my girls


Happy Vals girls <3

we'll just have our hangout time on the train

I love to see hue guys.







Uhm heving a great taahhhhm.

The rest of the week is booked solid with retarded probably waste of time shit to do.
That means I will have dumb photos no one cares about and goss and stories about what ugly people were wearing.


you got a staring prollem bish?

Great Job morning edition

This morning I am realizing sometimes you just have to give up.
This applies to many facets of existence, but today I was reminded of this truth of all truths based on a struggle with my sock.

Since the dawn of the skinny jean, hipsters, fashionistas and copycats like me alike have been wondering how to get their socks on in the winter with said denims.

I am a huge fan of the weather apprope sock. Hi, its January. Wear a thick sock.
So yeah, if you're one of those people who thinks before they act, you put the sock on first, then you put the jeans on, and its only a slight torture getting that tiny foot hole up around your heel then ankle.

Other scenario...
you are me.
You do NOT think before doing anything at all.

You pu on your jeans, then go rummaging through your giant bag of laundry trying to find the winter thickness of sock.
Oh, nbd, heres some ABOVE THE KNEE SOCKS.
Really?
Perfect.
First I'll scrunch them with that weird tights-prep hand wiggle thing, then try to shimmy them on my foot and over the jeans.
Maybe I should cuff the jean because everything is getting mad bunchy etc?
Herm, skinny jeans do not cuff well.
Ok, so the sock will just have to be scrunchy.
Actually no because the feeling of tight jean plus about a thousand yards of sock around my lower leg area is giving me a panic attack.


Don't worry.
Now I'm late for work.

Don't even bother

Sew, the house i grew up in burned down recently.
Thats weird to me.
Goodbye childhood hello adulties.
Using the word adulties voids what I just said.

It was warmer today.
Who cares.

I went to Bergdorf with my mom the other day and stared at Zac Posen party dresses.
That was depressing and also awesome.
PS who doesn't love his knits?

Seeing this one on a hanger gave me a fashion boner.
Also, someone old and rich please buy me a Herve bandage dress in emerald or navy and I will wear it whenever you want me to and I will pretend to love you when we kiss passionately in public.
Some might call that prostitution, I call it street smartz.
Samantha just informed me that she feels they are played out, and I fully agree.
Doesn't defeat my desire for one.


Speaking of the streets, don't worry, I saw this guy last night.

The creepiest trend of the 90s is still alive and well.
Excuse me adult Mexican, but I think you could fit all of your children in your pants.
Racism!

Same deli I saw Mexican Raver in boasts this sign:

I don't think thats very nice.

I played cards in New Jersey the other night.
It looked like this.

Hi Randi.
Nice seeing you once every 5 years.
Somehow someone created a whole deck of cards showcasing Irish football heroes.
How that works, I don't know.
Side note, playing football does not make you a hero, nor does being Irish.
My brother is the only person in the world who would own something such as said deck of cards.
I bet my dad gave it to him in his Christmas stocking.

Best quote of the week via a text convo I had with M***y...

"seriouslah, just mouth rape his ass"

I think I can end blogging on that note.

All people think about is making out.
Spring has sprung a lil early, my hot panty friends.