Hawt and Bahthud

Someone should become a serial rapist, and their criminal name should be Con Edison.
Why do these bastards fuck me directly up the ass every 30 days?
I seriously might have to start lighting my home with only the dollar store Jesus candles.
And I'll produce heat by devising some kind of cat powered machine. They will run on a little wheel all day long and it will set off sparks on some sort of generator.
I don't have it all sorted out, but it all starts with the idea, you know.

Thats how I feel today basically.
Full of great ideas provoked by exasperation.

I have an unexpected day off and I've spent it watching documentaries online, cleaning up, and food shopping.
I found myself walking around Pathmark fake smiling and gritting my teeth because it was one of the worst experiences I've had in weeks.
I swear to god, there were at least 6 or 7 of these common folk:

I understand that we all have bad days.
I understand that some mornings, we open our eyes, roll over, and just SIGH.
Like ok. I dunno if I wanna get up and out.
I don't think I can handle an hour in the supermarket uuuup and dooooown everyyyyyy aisle.
It will be torture!
Well guess what?
Thats called being human.
Laziness is best combated by FORCING yourself up and out and seizing the day. Grab yer food stamps and hit the pavement sister!
If you have to SCOOT your way to the frozen food section to stock up on Banquet microwave tv dinners on sale for $1.29, you might just want to give in commit suicide right now.
Because despite how cruel it sounds, I have always been a strong believer in Darwinism.
There is a reason why sharks have pointy teeth and giraffes have long necks and ants can carry like 10 times their body weight.
BECAUSE THERE IS NO WAY TO SURVIVE OTHERWISE.
Humans being able to motor themselves from their bed to their over processed non-nutrient having saturated fat food sources... one day its just going to have to stop.
Or else I might have an aneurysm solely prompted by frustration.
You should be in a motorized scooter indoors under the following circumstances:
1. you are handicapped. Nuff said.
2. You can't use your legs for some sort of medical reason/recent surgery/exploding kneecaps/whatever the fuck
3. you have some sort of nervous system or musculature issue aka Lou Gherigs? Something like that.
4. You're super old. What qualifies as super old? 95. Thats old. 63? Not old pal. Not old.
5. You are playing some kind of joke for a hidden camera show.

If I see you stand up out of your Rascal to reach for the 2 liter America's Choice grape soda, you can walk. So walk.
Also, you're totally in the way of those of us who have places to be.
AKA me.
I just wanna go home and wash some dishes and dance with myself in my living room on my day off.

I think in order to make myself happy, and to uplift my readers who have now maybe had their day ruined with my negativity...
I would like to propose that a spring celebration be planned in my home within the coming month.
Stephanie my dear Stephanie will have returned from Italia.
Olivia my dear Olivia will be back from LA.
Jeylan will be back from stupid Texas.
Brooklyn girls my dear Brooklyn girls, I never get to see them any more for some horrible reason...
Therefor.
I would like to bless my revamped domicile with cakes and drinking and girls and boys and hopefully some lip glossy kisses.
My planning begins now I think.
Any and all proposals and schemes related to this feista are welcome.

Some inspiration:


(oliviamalone.com duh)
















PS I can't wait to wear shorts.
Please when you read that, say it like this, sort of fast and hysterical:
"I caaaynt wait ta wear sharts!!"
Then wiggle your steepled fingers.

I'll be in my office.

So whenever I don't feel like talking to someone or doing something, I'm just gonna say that.

I have an 'office' now.

Next to my bedroom.
What will a nanny do in an office you ask?
The same thing a bartender. Or a pet groomer. Or a landscaper would do in an office.
Ignore people, doodle on things with sharp pencils, write unnecessary emails, sing quietly, spin in a chair, and talk outloud about uninteresting things.
I may also read magazines, blog, take pictures of myself, and write some songs.
Speaking of, I think above the desk I don't have yet, I will frame the paper with Teen Horse Walks first song.
I will have to rig up some contraption that will be a double sided frame. Because we wrote on both side of the paper. It will be attached to the wall by a swingy hinge, so I can flip the frame back and forth to review all lyrics.
There will be a lot of pondering happening.

In that case, maybe I should say 'I'll be in my think tank'
But that is very fucky face sounding so maybe not.

So.
Onto what I really need to discuss.
Basically I think the matrix is real.
Evidence:

Why else would this woman be wearing these garments?
I don't know.
Luckily for your eyes and your genitals, what you do not see is her booty shorts.
Faux leather ones.
She had plenty of bottom butt showing.
Keep in mind this was like 2 days ago, when it was hmmmm I dunno 55 degrees tops?
Hi, you are stupid.
Please take the other pill.
Whichever one makes you go back to the pod thing.
Don't get all worked up nerds, I didn't memorize everything about that movie so just back off.
Also keep in mind I took this picture on Broadway and E4th (approximation)
Would you like to guess how many people were looking at her like she had 3 heads?
Tons.
Because that shit belongs in an S&M bar or MAYBE the East Village at the right time of night.
Guh.
Disgustahh.

Evidence number 2:

I don't know if this picture is evidence of matrix. Or evidence that I have severe severe paranoia.
But I felt like that bald sunglasses man was going to do something weird like open his briefcase and take out a future universe taser and stick it in my thigh.
God only knows what happens after that.
PS do bald guys have to wear sunglasses all the time?
It is their way of being tough without having rebel tresses?
I think so.

Anyway, I don't know what else is going on, people are just being weird and grumpy and I for one do not like it at all.

Speaking of weird and grumpy, how awful would it be to have to purchase both of these items on the same day from the drugstore?

Why are they next to eachother?
Hi, excuse me, Walgreens stock guy?.....I was just wondering, where is your shame aisle?
Because not that its your bees or anything but I have no idea who fathered my child and I'm preeeeetty sure my niece who I let move in with me is smoking crack. Either that or some super speed.
In any case... wheeeere would I get some stuff to take care of that?
Oh, good, hey look at that, right next to eachother. Two birds with one stone!

On a less suicidal note, its CMJ time in New York which I think I like.
I lub music!
Whenever people say they love music do you want to punch them in the face because I do.
Its like saying ''so I've been doing this thing its pretty good, i think the kids nowadays call it laughing. I like it."
Really?
Because everyone likes music.
Everyone likes laughing.
Everyone likes finding 20 dollars in the pants they haven't worn in like 2 weeks.
Big deal.
Last night I went to Tribeca Grand aka 12 dollar vodka soda rip off bastard bar.
The whole point was to hear some bands, in particular Lykke Li.
She was amazing.
She likes to dance a lot.
Me too!
She looks like a more interesting non-fetus version of the Olsens.



Not that you can tell, but Liv and I were kind of standing in the perfect spot.
It was fantastique.
Unfortunately there was a very very annoying girl standing behind me who I might have been capable of murdering.
She was one of those women who is quite pretty with a full lady body and non attention whore clothes, like a white button down all disheveled and proper jeans and boots with personality.
Like put together and not put together.
Like before she left her apartment she drank 4 glasses of wine and smoked a joint and is just too beyond.
TOO.
BEYOND.
Very pretentious without having to say or do much.
Call me a hater if you will, but she was so amazingly self aware and puffed up on the attention her homosexual accomplice gave her that she probably would not notice if the ceiling fell in.
I am not sure I can even get across the annoyance factor but thinking about her is making me feel a hulk out coming on.

Who is not annoying?
This person.



From here til March I predict that I will not be able to photograph a single persons face.
We are all walking around acting like its the fucking Yukon covering our nose and mouths.
Ugh I fear for January.

Oh wait, something else annoying.
Liv and I had a little dinner at Bread before going to that horseshit V party.
Please guess what we had to ASK out waiter to bring.
You got it.
Bread.
Hi, we're at Bread.
Can we get some fucking bread?
False advertising my friends.

I am over myself right now.
Negative negative.
All day.
This is not negative.

Hi new boots!
Hi kitty!
She likes my taste in footwear.
Now I just need to find a new pair of shoelaces for sassy accent appeal.
I realize in the dim dungeon lighting of my home, they may look like hooker shoes.
Bless your heart, they are certainly NOT.

Oh wait, I almost forgot, the best part of my day, I'm in the grocery with my mother buying New Jersey cigarettes (hee-eey 6.50 a pack)
and I see a People magazine issue devoted to Paul Newms.
It cost 12 dollars so like a cheap scumbag I opened it up and started taking pictures of the pictures.
Presh sesh.





Its like Paul and Joanna live inside of a rainbow in heaven and they play board games all day and dance to old timey tunes and everytime they kiss is like the fiiiiirst tiiiiiiiiime!
(in my mind i sang that with extra excitement voice on the 'first time' part)

If I don't get a Paul Newman for myself I will not die happy.
I will feel super ripped off.
I will hate on so much of the universe.
hi, hater!
Please refer to the Hi, Hater! blog expertly written by Annabelch, Classy Cholita.
Hi, Hater link also to your right.
I'm sure she will have something to say about my black black soul after this one.

Good night.

UM PS again.
How many times a day from here out will we all have to hear "ew I'm cold."
Ew so am I pal.

Wrink

wow.
very long night.
pictures will arrive.
25 blows.
its official!

love,
old hag

What you think youre better than me?

I remember a specific instance last summer I went out with Liv, just me and her one night, doing the whole lets go have fun yada yada cool bar thing.
We differ on this one topic about "going out."
Liv is perfectly ok with waiting in a line and bullshitting with a doorman to get in somewhere.
I am amazed by her self control and ability to talk anyone into agreeing that SHE should be in THERE. Now-ish.
LA LA so LA! Yaaaaaaay! There are many thing about Liv I am baffled by but certainly admire.
Meanwhile I stand near the street with my ugly little scrunch face, chain smoking and rolling my eyes and muttering about fags with Napoleon complexes.
Then when I walk in, I always have to make a new bitchy face or say something quasi-rude for the doorman to remember me by. Great job.
Point is, last night I had to relive the thing I hate most about the scene.
Which is this: People overestimate their own importance.

I was having a wretched day, once again I panicked on the train on the way home from work and almost threw up everywhere. I had that fucking hot neck and face syndrome where like, you are pretty sure at any moment you are going to actually die. And you think your sweating but you're actually not and your face turns gray and then you decide that god is a dick.
Anyway I get home and take a shower, awesome, good fix. Have a drink with Sam and Alex, and we take a car over to Harifs art thing at the Tribeca Grand.
The photo setup is total bullshit, that place is not good for displays.
Once again, this gathering fell into the "trust fund girls who are very skinny and over dressed" category. Lots of very high heels and expensive dresses paired with dirty fingerless lace gloves and ratty hair. Unappealing.
Whats with the whole "RichStreet" look?
I kind of hate it.
Just be rich and proud. I would be.

Anyway, the video in the screening room was pretty lovely I have to say, Harif did a really good job editing and filming and the overall feel was surprisingly gentle and sweet. What the fuck do I know, I was just pleasantly surprised.
Whatever, we drink some of this crazy gin/cassis/lemon concoction that was the tartest taste my buds have ever encountered and we head out to meet Jiwonji.
Chiara leaves which may have been smart of her.

So we go to eat at Lucky Strike and Bing! see Pia on a date with a dude from Las Vegas! I don't have anything funny to say about that, it was just a weird coincidence. Anyway, I had the best bruscetta I have maybe ever had and drank some vodka and scared Alex telling him about how much I love to be mean to nice people. Jiwonji is the only friend I have who agrees that the two of us should have to right to date assholes for as long as we want and no one should be ballsy enough to say, "Hey, bad idea."
No shit bad idea. Thanks for the priceless tip.
Whatever, Adrain and Fan came back after disappearing, Himes came to meet Liv and ate a burger faster than anyone in history ever has.
It was actually a lovely time and all, we got to do gossip time and eat and be squished in a tiny table.
The following sentence is written to make Liv happy and to remind everyone that I am not a bitch:
I HAD A VERY NICE TIME AT LUCKY STRIKE WITH MY FRIENDS. NOT EVERYTHING IS BAD OR BORING OR CRAPPY OR DOODOO OR PATHETIC OR ANNOYING. I LOVE MY FRIENDS BECAUSE THEY ARE VERY SPECIAL AND TIME WITH THEM IS BLESSED.


Needless to say, my idea of taking awkward pictures at the table came out perfectly awkward.


My gossip partner and I hate all the exact same people.


Alex is a darling. Literally.
I think we should talk about their CD soon. ALOKEALOKEALOKE.
Nice artwork supplied by the hands of Hannah Hooper.
Great job.


This is when I stopped taking pictures.





Sidenote: Liv and Sam went to dinner there once and there was an old dude fingering his trophy girlfriend at the table directly next to them and everyone could see what was going on and his arm was knocking the bread basket.
I am really jealous I wasn't there to tell the story first hand with super innapropriate detailing.

Whatever.
The point?
We are losing folks.
Liv and Hiyme go home to fucking snuggle like the happy shitbrains they are.
We walk over to the afterparty garbage at Antik.
This is where I ask that you pay attention.
I HATE ANTIK.
I hate the people going in.
I hate the door guy.
I hate the decor.
I hate the dancing downstairs.
I hate the idea of it being overcrowded because Aoki is DJing.
I hate that I heard a girl say, "Hey...we are 6 hot girls just going downstairs to get drinks...you better let us back up!!"
I hate that I met a super gay dude there who pretended to be straight for me and wants me to go thrifting with him. (PS he left because he got a text to come to Beatrice. Nuff said)
I hate that I felt like I was in a mysterious city where the Hamptons was mixed with LA mixed with pergatory. (Not hell because that would be way dramatic, there is no booze in hell I'm pretty sure of that)

Wait it gets better. I just looked it up on Nymag and THIS was the only reader review:

"This is what NYC has been waiting for. The upstairs is like your private VIP room. It's like going to one of VIP rooms in the hottest clubs. With 8-10 tables and a killer DJ its partying with your friends in a private location. I suggest table reservations. We tried to buy a table by walking up and they were sold out. So we came back with a reservation and rocked out until 4am."

Oh my god. Killyourself. Rock out til four am then thrust a knife into your head. I truly hate you Antik and Antik reviewer Brian_NYC.

So here we are, Thursday afternoon, I have a new thing to hate, its raining outside, and all I can think about is what in gods name will I eat for lunch on the way to work.

That reminds me, conversation of the night:

Krissy: Seriously I started making one of those lists in my head. You know, like, what you want in a boyfriend. I am thinking everything in greater than/less than terms. Like he must own greater than one leather jacket, but less than 3 blazers.

Sam: Wait, isn't that backwards?? Thats ridiculous Krissy.

Jiwonji: I just have two things (holds up fingers)
One, he has to be funny.
And two, he has to buy me food.

Krissy: Good call.

GRATE.

Ugh I hate you guys.
These are the things I apologize for regarding last night:

1. humpdancing on an disinterested Chiara.
2. trying to force Felicia to take her shirt off.
3. slapping Andy in the face.
4. harrassing two hot lesbians for cigarette after they clearly stated they don't smoke.
5. telling that fat guy in the bathroom that I'm allowed in the men's room because I don't like the ladies room line. It's long and slow. I yelled this through the stall door whilst peeing. He was such an asshole with his stupid fat guy hip blazer.
Whatever, I actually don't apologize to him.
5 and a half. embarrassing Steph by existing.
6. accidentally leaving Katie in BK alone after retardedly assuming she was with Bianca. Why would she be with Beebs? Dunno. Boozebrains.
7. telling Beebs not to worry about getting hit on by girls at Hugs,she looks too homely to be a lesbian.
I seriously didn't mean it like that.
8. i also apologize for wearing a tube dress with Mexican bling and motorcycle boots.


Love,
Your favorite Penis, Kristeenis


Totally superbowl.

OMG WAYATW

Saturday nights are so weird. I feel weird.

Yesterday Petit brought over a purple painting for the living room and it looks rad.



She also got drunk and told Katie she could have her shoes. Katie will remind her. Many times. Until she gets them.

Sam was in a special people mood and sang her own drunken inspired version of "Rehab" for about 15 minutes with no musical accompaniment.
Like this.

"Theyyy tryya meeeeahhh gooo ta rehhaybuh , I seh nooooooooo"

Sams deep ass voice and her disgusting one eyebrow raise made this a horrifying and hilarious experience for me.

Thankfully, someone else excelled in retardation level, letting Sam off the hook.
Some random guy was texting Katie about weird things and asking her shit and he was including emoticons. Mhm. This is her reaction.

I'm just as eyyo technology as the next person, but I really think men should get some strap on ballsacks and just call already. If you think a girl is spesh, you're going to have to actually talk to her at some point.
The 15-in-a-row text messages are A) fucking creepy and B) they will just get passed around for her girlfriends to look at and then you are a joke. A very stalkery joke. So get with the program.

It was then time to watch Let Me Borrow That Top.


We also had to watch Hideous Kinky. Because it's a fantastic movie. I want to go to Morocco.


Whatever, yes, I am cliche like that. A white girl who wants to revel in the culture of northern Africa. Sue me. I have nothing. Ugh the two kids in that movie are so amazing I want to be 5 and only wear underpants. And not sweat in the 110 degree Morocco weather.


OMG this movie is so seriouslahh.

Then I couch danced while we watched Purple Rain.
You gotta purify yourself in the waters of Lake Minnotonka.
Girl, that ain't Lake Minnetonka.
Appolonia had great breasts.
Sometimes I love pot because it makes things funnier.
Really?!
Yes!

I made tater tots to a perfect crispness and I think I invented something called the eternal penis, but as expected, I have no recollection today what that meant. It meant something hilarious, but now it just sounds like a quirky alt rock band. Opening tonight for Rasputin in Suede, Eternal Penis!
(scattered clapping, singular woo from the girlfriend of the drummer. Cough.)

I'm listening to Karen Dalton and I don't even like her music. I think her voice is shit really. it's not sexy at all. It's grating.
Fuck that bitch.

I think the only way to force yourself to go out is to take a shower.
I refuse to shower.
Take that to the chicken coop.

I heard someone say that once and really what could that mean?

I may just be quoting someone wrong maybe it wasn't chicken coop but now that I've put it out there I'm going to run with it.

PS I saw a grown ass woman on Friday afternoon riding a Razor scooter. She was wearing the upper east side uniform of sordidly overpriced casual wear and totally uncalled for fancy shoes. She def had her face done, and she probably hadn't even hit 35 yet. Super blond hair, overwhelming amount of jingly accouterment.
She looked happy as a suburban Jap in Express just scooting past everyone.
I think that if I had the bloodlust at all, that is who I would choose to murder.

Heres a picture of my boyfriend getting into some charming tomfoolery. Aw.