Lets on get back on track with a picture of my boobs.
oliviamalone.com obvio.
Stephanie and I have mastered the dirty roll in the yard shot. Also why do I always look like the ringleader of the local fight club? Not really that into it. There should be a dialogue bubble by my head saying "next motherfucker get greased and ready because I am tre-zero segundos away from ripping yer limbs off and beating your boyfriend with them"
Everybody just relax.
Tye-Dye Party tomorrow for one of my besties and also Crystal. I mean Crystals ok I guess too.
Technically Jeylan is spelled Ceylan, so lets call it C+C Hippie Factory.
I'm gonna tye-dye the shit out of my sling!
Adieu!
FYI I am supes hype to blog AC but first I need pics of my injury hint hint Olivia Denise Stephanie Nicki.
I woke up quite under the weather this morning completely unable to swallow coupled with aching eyeballs. Not suitable for nannying. I had to call out of work of course because little babes don't need my germs no siree. (Suri?)
It was an unpleasant day of not eating, not really drinking, not really moving... just rolling around in my bed having feverish dreams and intermittently feeling the disgusting tingle of the sunburn on my lower back rub against my sheets.
Then I dragged myself up around 230 this afternoon to get ready to go to therapy on the upper west side. For some reason I thought today would be a really good day to delve into some ol stinky garbage issues I've had since I was a kid that possibly affect my current behaviours. Might I remind you, this is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, and is all about living in the moment mindfully. It is certainly not about having an hour long self absorbed cry fest. Well...today I failed at mindfulness and self control. I sweat all over Claude's nice Eames lounge chair and snot up about half his box of tissues. I cried the entire time basically and I had that weird awful sobby choked voice that it just unbearable.
So that happened.
I came home to rest and take some pills and drink some tea which was nice but then I got shit on by someone who shall remain nameless. I really dislike being disliked does that make sense? I always feel this weird pity for people who berate those who care about them. It makes me think they are so beyond fucked inside that I have to figure it out and then assist them in some way. Maybe they just don't like me and thats why they talk shit. Either way, its essentially a lose-lose sitch.
So as of 7 minutes ago it became Tuesday and this horrible Monday ended and I am glad for it. I embrace every moment I have with those I love but today was pretty loveless for the most part. Thats why I'm going to think about all the happiness I had this holiday weekend. I am so so thankful for the people in my life who give me positive thoughts and unconditional acceptance. I hope these photos make you feel good.
On the train out to NJ to celebrate the 4th, it appeared as though Levin was not set to have a good time with the ladies. But I had faith in his ability to find enjoyment in all the vagina he was about to be stuck with for 48 hours.
Porto sits with me and is never embarrassed when I talk too loud or say "wet dick" in public. Maybe she is embarrassed but she doesn't scold me which is nice.
Marshy like disease time.
Beer. Meat. Livy's salad. Dinner in the yard. It was an immediate killing it type of situation upon arrival.
We walked to the fireworks at the river and somehow ended up with the perfect seats despite a crowd of 125,000 people. Supposedly 125G, Nancy may have exaggerated.
Levin posted up Americana.
This is real. Real emosh. (emotional? can i say emosh?) Stephanie cried a few times and forced Levin to hold her hand dramatically. I enjoyed that. I mostly clapped furiously and wiggled with excitement. Red Bank fireworks are by far the best I have ever seen in my life. There were hearts and purple things and star showers and hibiscus shaped ones with red lanterns in the center that floated away as the explosion faded. Steph and I now have a plan to be cremated and stuffed into a tube WITH fireworks so we can be shot into the sky and transcend time and space like magik. I made up that last part about transcendence.
Levin caveman duties.
This is what drunk ghosts probably look like.
The next day, the actual July 4th, we had a plan to remain at the beach until the fireworks went off on the ocean around 9pm. It is very hard to be at the beach for ten hours. But Ilona and Werman showed up which was entertaining, especially because Ilona was wearing her mans underpants as a babin suit.
Werman is a good beach DJ.
Look at these butts! Look at these mexican blankies from 7-11!
Stephanie's beach walk is so good, she does it a certain way 'so nothing shakes' Shes my tiny pony.
If they have a baby I think they should just name it Jew. No other moniker would really explain a creature from their combined beings.
Jey and BabyBows finally showed up late in the day. They did not disappoint on Jersey costume prep. Best part is they sort of always look like this. I just never realized what I was looking at. Glory.
I wish I had thought of this first.
I don't think it is possible to blog anything after the beginning of the sunset. It was too good. Dogs running on the beach. So much color. Music and swimming and all kinds of good things. Heavenly is a good adjective in very few occasions but here it may apply.
Olivia took photos of me with seashells over my boobies like a mermaid laying in the wet sand. And me and Jey holding hands in the creek reflecting the pink from the sky. And Stephanie dancing with a scarf like a bird. And water dives and poodle chases and Micheal Jackson beach house blasting celebration. All those parts are in my head where they belong and I wish I could share them but I just don't know about that. I would have to be so much better of a writer...
We had one more little trip to the beach Sunday after I ate probably 3 entire bagels and drank 14 glasses of juice. Then to Jeys to eat all the food at her house. Also to show off my sunburn.
And sing this:
Then to the ferry to see another sunset and go back to the reals.
Out-feeeeit!
The moon!
This to that.
I walked South Street to my apartment and was greeted by a giant dead bird on the stoop. It stared at me for a few minutes then whispered Welcome Home.
*PostScript thank you mom for taking care of us and loving us and feeding us and having a place for me always
Good brunch with Tash today, Moroccan Benedict and Blood Orange Martinis. Yums!
Blorg time. I'm feeling really joyous and blessed, which doesn't really make for the best comedic commentary, thats the sad truth of human nature. But bear with me.
I honestly don't know what to say today so I'm going to drink a beer and see were that goes.
OK Things.
Thursday Night. The darling Professor is back in town from a long stint in London. He brought a lot of energy home with him to New York, so he has been a gem to have around. LOLA party 10pm. We walked along the river to the Broad St Ballroom and into the most crowded glorious place I've seen in awhile. There wasn't a sourpuss in sight. Good times with immediacy.
Tash was bewildered.
10 minutes after we got there, we got up to the front. Alger is walking around being mysterious and Questlove slinks right by him playing a triangle or something up to the stage. Super relaxed. Then his marching band came out of nowhere and blew excitement directly up our collective asses.
Hearing Hollywood Swingin' performed in this fashion is probably the fastest way to get asses shook.
10 flights up we found early nineties club music and a wooden playground on the roof. Also beer in Levin's pants.
On the eighth floor we found more beer and tequila, a barber shop, a body mod guy, Amber and her sister, some police officers and firemen, a giant bodyguard, better music.
I never made it to the pool because you weren't allowed to bring beers in there. Pfft. I think I missed a lot of things going on but I had an excellent time. I'm pretty sure the tequila was cursed because after a couple shots everyone was on one.
Midnight it all shuts down.
Levin posted up for a minute then we hit the streets.
Some assholes I don't know wanted to jump in the picture. I was told to get the abusrdly massive american flag in he photo and of course did not. So Olives salute makes zero sense in this case.
Gotham City yall.
Friday night was conceptual photog mission with Alger. Dress up and models and documentation of the greatest apartment I will even have inhabited in this city.
Stylists are always fun because they love to talk shit on everyone. It's part of their gig really.
Beautiful girl, great trash hair. PS, just because a woman is Japanese, it does not automatically make her retarded. Speaking broken English and having a brain deficiency are two different things. She was a total doll and probably laughing at all of us inside. Stupid Yankees.
The 17 year old Russian model in the foreground had a lot to say about American culture and the fact that I burp pretty constantly when ingesting Budweieser tallboys. Keep your Eastern Euro commentary to yerself please. Theeeeeinks! PS youre cute, but I don't need the sass. Look gorgeous and shet the yap.
Marion looked like Carnivale plus Miami plus country singer plus sex.
I initially resisted taking part in the actual photos, then I remembered I am suprememly self absorbed and theatrical. So I put on a metallic onesie and some hot bitch heels and worked it out. Obviously.
For those of you unfamiliar with the Alger photo mastery, heres a piece he did for Ray Ban recently. When he runs around the models with his lights drawing in the air thru the darkness he makes a hilarious rocket zoom type sound. That makes it very hard to hold still and play serious. He is one of my favorites generally speaking and he deserves every ounce of success he ever sees. What a heart.
Everything is so fun lately it makes it impossible to express on a blog. I feel so lucky to have such fantastic people around me all of the time, they are inspiring and full of such genuine goodness and talent and humor. (Faggetry!)
Olive got some photos back recently from a trip we had to NJ together, they are so natural and free and a superb reminder of how wonderful things can be when we see them for what they are. The shore on a cold day with no shoes. Your mothers house in the suburbs. A wrestling match with one of your oldest most loyal confidants. All caught. So we don't forget it or take it for granted.
