Gettin On Tappa Yas

Annonymous. Brave. And True.

2010-03-26T15:58:00.004-04:00

The internet is a fairly repulsive platform for sharing experiences.
My friends and family who wonder why I stopped blogging, please refer to the superbly weird commentary made by strangers in the recent months.
Antisemitism, hateful opinions that I don't value or give merit to, anger anger anger disgusting creepy lurky vomit.

A gentle message to the commentators:
If you are neither friend or family to me; I have never written a word for you. Please don't concern yourself with my photos, stories, or feelings.
In such an open forum I expect varying opinions but really, cmon.

As for today, I will be getting back to my beautiful life.
Thanks for your input punkins.

hither/yon

2009-12-01T18:13:00.006-05:00

Privacy is a weird concept.
I don't particularly care for/about it.
I like it when people tell me 'too much information.'
My happiness in a home is directly proportionate to how many doors there are, and whether or not they remain ajar.
I MUST pee within earshot of other people, and best case scenario, I enjoy carrying on a conversation while doing my business.
Sidenote: looking for peeing with door open visual I found this:
(only funny to me?)

When people accuse me of speaking too loudly I get really sad because I believe theres a chance everyone around wants to know what I had for lunch or what I think of David Lynch (brutally overrated/a dickbag)

That being said, I am trying to come to terms with how unusual all this is.
There are many people I care about who WILL NOT leave the door open when they pee. If I try to come in their bathroom while its occupied, they will not like it and they will scold me.
My friends might roll their eyes in my direction and try to sort out just what my issue is. This is how it goes:
"Krissy. How old are you? Do you know that you're saying too much? Do you hear yourself? Some things are supposed to be sacred."

I will tell you what I think is sacred.
I think silence is sacred, just like the rest of yall. I know when it's time to hush up. (Right?)
I think privacy, yes, sure, it's really great.
I think acting like a grown up and giving people space is totally awesome for real blargblargblarg.
That doesn't mean I don't love to be all in others business/have them all up in mine.

It's not a neediness thing, its a human bonding thing.
I wanna bond.
Often.
If you are looking for someone to succubus onto, I am your girl.
Because it's really all about duos, threesomes, teams, whatever.
(I try to avoid 'gangs' or 'crews' though because they are scary and violent and in the end they WILL hunt the weak and become cannibals, a la The Road)
Case in point, my best girlfriends and I are the Tiny Ponies. Actually we began as a number of things, one of them being Teen Horse Walk (4 girl band where no one plays instruments or sings very well)
When we want to get together we do a calling of the Ponies.
Group texts about where we can 'corral'
Plans for little trips, tattoos we should communally get, secret jokes no one else will understand.
Extreme maturity.
This inevitably makes all of us feel special and loved.
And that's why I don't dig on privacy and space.
I'm not sure if this all actually relates to my original point, I highly doubt it.
I'm just saying, the definition of privacy is: The quality or condition of being secluded from the presence or view of others.
That does not sound like my gig.

Also not my gig?
If you accidentally type in gettinontappayas.blogPSot.com (eensy weensy typo) you get some balls out bible study site with links to go away to Egypt or something.

On that note, the next time I blog I'm going to talk about how bad I am at shopping and how my boif has way better taste that me.
I will have photographs to make my point clear.

Speaking of shopping, if any of you want to get my a holiday gift, I would like some Wolford stockings to increase my sex appeal and also anything made of silk/lace/velvet.
Lets get victorian.
Or lets just find this exact gear and stick me in it.

BonerTime.

Le DuDu

2009-11-13T22:37:00.007-05:00

I'm 'working' right now which means I'm in a giant hotel bed in a reclined position with a hot laptop on my thighs watching The Biggest Loser on Hulu.
I am eating a bag of chips from the mini bar which could very well cost about fifteen dollars.
This picture has nothing to do with my current situation, but I could see it happening to me and I honestly feel like a slight fail right now.
And anything having to do with Fail makes me laugh a wee bit.

Anyway.
There is a baby sleeping in the shower.
So my job is essentially checking from time to time to make sure the baby has not suddenly disappeared a la Lindberg or turned into a radish a la Fairie Tale Theater.
Not in the shower, but in a crib placed within the shower. I forgot to specify that part. Le Infants parents are French and very sweet but they do not like to get up early so the baby goes in the bathroom out of earshot.
I am NOT passing judgement here; I have been a nanny for my entire adult life and I know full well that kids are a pain in the ass. And when I have a baby, i will put it anywhere I want.
FYI:
This is occurring at the Bowery Hotel, a few doors down from Debi Mazar and Jason Schwartzman. Not that those two are sharing a room, but I have seen both of them while babysitting here for these french people the last couple of days.
They both have very absurd voices and small limbs.
And they both felt the need to start a weird conversation with me. That is something I enjoy. When you look at someone famous, and then you go about your current activity, you can almost feel the disappointment in the air. Sure, they say on Oprah "I just want to practice my craft and be left alone" but that my friends, is total horseshit.
If you pass a celebrity in a quiet hall or step into an empty elevator with them, chances are they are just ITCHING to say, "Yes, I am so-and-so...thank you, yes I enjoyed working on that project I'm glad you enjoyed watching it...ciao." (normal people do not say ciao, only famous people/models/Italians/assholes say ciao)
If you take the route of ignoring the fact that they have been on television or in film or sold a million records, they might just spontaneously combust. They will wonder if you are stupid or just aloof. They will think maybe you too, are famous, or very rich. Maybe THEY should be striking up a convo with YOU. Maybe your father owns Viacom or your fiancee just bought a small country to lord over.
So this is how Debi Mazar ended up telling me I have princess hair. All because I completely ignored her. Yes, I watched her in the hall sensually apply deep red lipstick. Yes, I got a flash of GoodFellas when she stepped into the elevator with me. Of course I wanted to tell her Entourage sucks and she's the only bearable part of it. But I didn't.
So there.

I think we should take this issue back to Oprah for a moment, just to express what happens to people when they are acknowledged wherever they go.
PS I hope this note is real, and I bet the woman who wrote it has mysteriously fallen off a cliff since then:

OK. This entry is really all over the place, I have become a muddled shitty writer with little to no direction. But it all comes to a point. The point is me.
I am wondering what kind of person I am after saying all of the things I just said.
I am wondering what kind of person blogs.
I BLOG. I TALK ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE ON MY BLOG. I SIT HERE TYPING ABOUT ASSUMPTIONS I HAVE MADE ABOUT OTHERS. AND I WANT YOU ALL TO READ THIS. I'M EXCITED THAT OTHER PEOPLE READ ABOUT WHAT I'M DOING!
There's the link. I just made the mental link about what kind of person I am.
It's still a popularity contest everywhere.
In the sixth floor hall of the Bowery Hotel.
In the blogosphere. (that's a blogger term, no?)
In the city I reside in.
In schools and in bars and in Hollywood and in your family.
Everyone wants to be popular and relevant and recognized and sometimes that includes me.
I want everyone to love me just enough to read my blog and offer me jobs and date me without trying to date other girls at the same time.
I am not sure if that is asking a lot, maybe it is.
If I were a big fish in a small pond, I doubt these things would even cross my mind.

It's just tonight sitting in a hotel alone I feel as though I really am a tiny speck in the water. Plankton maybe.

I'll be plankton if you'll be it too.

C'mon.

2009-11-06T13:17:00.013-05:00

Let me tell you.
For two weeks I have been smoking like a chimney/a Brad Pitt/a mom on welfare.

When you aren't eating, smoking becomes sort of second nature.
When you aren't eating because you're having extreme anxiety, smoking becomes sort of a first nature.
I also drank a lot of orange juice to balance out the whole killing my body thing.
It seemed like a logical and or tasty solution.

I feel so much better today because I am seeing Claude again (my tiny therapist boy genius friend voice of reason) and I left a crazy abusive job. And I had the relationship talk.
That one.
Theres only one.
The one that goes like this:

(The Van Der Beek is a really good example of the Girl Crying)

Girl Crying: "I feel ______. And I need ______. And you aren't there right now and I don't know WHERE you are but its not THERE where I neeeeed you."
long pause.
Girl Crying: "I don't want to break up."
This is where Girl lists some options and tries to remain calm and does weird things with her hands and looks terrified and probably goes to the bathroom at least once to avoid the situation momentarily.
Then if the boy has any care whatsoever, he usually says what needs to be said, which fingers crossed, ends with this:
Smart Boy: "I don't want to lose you."

Aaaaaaand SCENE.

Don't worry, everything is better, no one is angry, no one is scared, now you give eachother some kind of physical feedback like a kiss or a solid hug and everyone can stop freaking out.

Unfortunately, written out that way, it looks like total bullshit the way people communicate.
But its not.
Saying how you feel is fucking hard, because the assumption is usually that you will be rejected after you've said your piece.
No one likes a complainer, or a drama queen, or a baby.
And everyone is scared all of the time to change things that feel off. Because once you admit they are off, you're really in trouble if you don't intend to step up and right the wrongs.

We all know who I'm talking about and I don't really like that because I value the privacy he and I still maintain most of the time.
But this relates to every single romantic relationship anyone will ever have so its not even like MY r'ship is being revealed here.
Yes, I say r'ship.
All the time.
Usually daily.
Because that is all girls talk about anyway.
R'ships.
I'm really sorry that I have to take it here, but, the moral of the story is
"Your R'ship will only sail successfully in the waters of truth and open hearts."
Most schmaltzy thing I have ever said?
Or.
Most awesome thing I have ever said.

you know i know better, i dont wanna go

2009-10-24T20:48:00.030-04:00

I just thought of a Wadsworth quote; 'the best thing to do when it's raining is to let it rain'

I haven't blogged since August.

I was letting it rain.

Making it rain on these hos.

Not at all that last sentence though.

It is in fact raining cats and dawgs right meow in NYC.
My apartment is really good for rain observing because of my two bedroom windows. They face the church across the street.
On beautiful sunny mornings the first thing I see is the glow of the stained glass piece and usually a bird or two perched on the top lip of it.
But as of right now with the windows open I can hear the rain hit my fire escape. Its painted green and in the spring I will sit out there watering flowers. I realize that doesn't sound like me but I'm going to do it so just fuck off.
Sometimes I miss the Gypsy Den apartment but thats ridiculous because I spent 5 months a year sick in that place. Here my heat comes hissing out of the radiators and I have to open a window so I don't die of warmth. So I think I should stop romanticizing the past and accept I found a rad spot for myself.
Living alone is in fact in a word, lonely.
I talk out loud to myself a lot just like my mom does.
For the first time in my life I feel like I need a television.
So I bought one today.

The end of the summer was too craze to write honestly.
Trying to have a normal healthy relationship with a man is super intense. It's endless maintenance for me. I'm always checking myself before I say something too insane that will hint at how 'damaged goods' I am.
That may be an exaggeration, but in truth I have changed so much in the last year of my life. I have moments where I think I am the luckiest person to ever have lived. I'm funny and smart and super cute and I have great hair. My boif is a good listener and we actually have an amazing time together without boozing ourselves semi-unconscious. He cares about movies and bands and good appetizers.
My friends are doing their own shit but they put up with me changing everything about my life and I don't think they hate me yet. I think they still love me.
Now that I have a job again finally I feel like I can go out and meet them places and gossip over a drink or 6.

Not that it really matters because it's over but here's some things I haven't forgotten yet from September and October.
PS my birthday was fairly uninteresting so I don't even care to mention much about it. I got good presents though. And now I'm in my LATE 20s. So there's that. Maybe when I'm 30 I won't be such a fucking crybaby. Fingies crossed forever.

Just to tie up some loose ends, I finally got a picture of what I looked like just before destroying my arm and ruining my summer. Falling down stairs in this outfit isn't right.

Nikki Bowman our dear friend has been sent away by the evil king of American Apparel to go run stores in the middle of nowhere. We have spent the last month missing her. Pizza. Kittens. Cowboy boots. Giggling. Hugging. Its all Bowman oriented.

When I moved I couldn't sleep at my new place. I did a lot of this.
It's a happy thought most of the time.
I feel like I am talking about my insides when I talk about this so that's quite enough.

Chiara moved to Scotland or something crazy like that so this was the last time I saw her. I just had a dream last night that we were talking on the phone and for some reason she had this heavy New York accent. It made me wake up laughing.
In reality we have maybe talked on the phone 5 times in my life. She still had/has one of those 'original' phones like without internet access or 'apps'
And she never seems to check her email.
What an alien.
Shes great, I hope she comes back.

Tally Dead Dead came to see me on a whim twice in the last two months.
He makes me a kid. The most wild genius kid in the universe. He's my Carol.

(In reference to the movie adaptation Where The Wild Things Are: yes i am already utilizing this film as a pop culture parallel to my life)

I went to Atlantic City again for the third or fourth time this year. This time was for Steven's birthday. I had the greatest time. Dude in the globe cage is riding his motorcycle so fast you can't even see him in there.
The last thing we did was sit outside on the steps of the boardwalk. A girl started to throw up by us. She had just gotten engaged that day. Something about it was strangely charming. This story does not translate well.
It was a very exciting night though.
It's my greatest flashback of September.

My second greatest September night was Fever Ray at Webster Hall. I was accompanied by fellow live music nerds Liv and Crystal. If I try to describe it I won't do it justice. We stood up in the balcony and looked down through lasers and smoke. It was like if a bunch of Scandinavian people-eaters had a rain dance party with magical fireflies for lamplight deep in the ravers forest by the sea of mystery and intrigue. Then they made love to their instrument machines and tried to talk to robot god. In costume.

These photos are the worst.
As usual, I fail to operate any camera to get desired image.

That is Cocoa telling me to pet her head gently.

That is the most unfortunate looking teenager I have ever seen, hands down.

One of my few rowdy nights out of late.
I was inebriated by 11pm.
I blame it on the free gallery booze. I feel like its always trouble for me. Because when I'm not payin, I'm DRANKIN. Yes.
A. That's Alger with stars shaved into his head.
B. Thats a medical glove on Crystal's foot, used like a sock. It did not work out well for her.

I went to Maryland for a couple of nights.
Driving again is fun.
I found out that popular radio is awful generally.
But in St Micheals we found 107.1 THE DUCK, which I may have to go ahead and say....best station ever?
Steven slept a lot.
I tried crabcake something or other and had the weirdest childhood flashback of eating it sometime somewhere. It tasted like memory.

To follow are pictures of Steven. When two people go somewhere together, they simply take pictures of eachother, not with eachother. This is not good for blogging purposes because it makes me look as thought I am following around some dude documenting his day when really, there was just no third person to photograph these joint experiences. Imagine me in there doing the same things. Smiling/scowling. Then it won't seem so dumb.

Steven James reflective fireside moments.

City people look like assholes once out of the city.

When I look at this I think of Bluto. From Popeye. Only adorbs.

Opposite of adorbs.
Pretend lighthouse keeper 'sleeping'
Or just giving me daymares.

I wish he was being a crab for Halloween.

We ate yummy food and I remembered why people leave the city and sit in yards.
And perfectly, as I typed that Phil Collins came on shuffle.
That sort of sums everything up.

This morning I found an empty notebook with PM Dawn on the cover. Jeylan gave it to me a while back and I never used it.
I sat in my tiny bathroom with my cat and wrote in the first page. It felt like something I hadn't done in so long. I mean, I wasn't GOING to the bathroom, I was just sitting in there because it's conducive to some kind of open thought.

So thats that.
Documentation commences because observation and commentary is an inherent part of my little dust speck of life.
Paaaar examplay:
The people outside sound like Prada shoes, expensive cocktails and bad taste. I am not even looking at them out the window and I can hear the possibility of regrettable hookups and Saturday douchbaggery.
With that, I am going to continue listening to this man and dreaming of a future as great as his epic cornball songs.

Sonar

2009-08-22T16:54:00.002-04:00

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.

As it all happened.

2009-08-18T21:40:00.012-04:00

Atlantic City, where I was crippled.
Before that, I was happy with my ponies.

For Nikki

For big tobacco

For pepaws everywhere

For the club heads

For the live streaming text wall at Ego

For Pennsylvania Valley Girls

For the get-down

For fellow Lolitas

For the poshest boardwalk shoppers

For my white Africaans

For my black herbs

For my scowl

For sun worshippers

For beach hair

For contorting Asian showstoppery

For the love of dipping

For mod

MoreMoreMore

Real Girl

2009-08-18T17:58:00.032-04:00

There is no power in a broken arm.
Its pretty much a personal prison for 6-8 weeks.
I'm not working, hence, I have tons of time.
You would think that would lead to:

.updating my license
.renewing my passport
.discovering things
.going to the beach
.taking up new hobbies
.keeping up with my stupid blog
.writing something awesome not on the internet
.having a really super clean apartment
.finding a good broker
.reading long difficult books
.searching for a new more awesome job for the fall

I have done zero of these things.
I have gone on dinner dates.
I have spent a lot of time cursing aloud carrying heavy things with one hand.
I have eaten too much and gotten annoyed at how impossible it is to fold laundry uni-handed.
I have MAYBE gotten drunk and been amusing to other people thrice.

But its not a fail situation because its almost my birthday and everything will be different then because I said so.
Heres some things I saw in the August of 2009 (1-18)

Other peoples birthdays were fun.

Jeylan and Crystals equaled brunch and tye dye.
Sounds sober.
Thats because they are better than us.
Just kidding no they aren't.
But sort of are.
Day things are cute until you realize its too hot for that shit.
I smelled like Patrick Ewing I bet. (I could see him being an especially musky locker room sweat type who uses prescription deod)

Crystal looks like Alice in Wonderland.
David talked a lot of shit on how specifically she orders food yet still doesn't like it when it arrives.
Perfectly enough, Crystal sent back her food because of too much sauce and too little cheese.
She also sent back her tea.

Rika's torso.

Beautiful Ilona nearly pooped on by a bird.

Alice is foreign so she actually purchased a street cd.
With money.
But it's signed.

Which impressed Werman.

Further east, midday sun:

Jeylan Yolac 26 years old look at those stems.
Gold chains/tye dye tees.

Vampire shit.

Blog.
Midsection.

Accidental vulgarity.

Models sit still.

Bowie does not.

Nanny duties.

The end of August 1st.

I've seen 400 movies this month, thank you SJ.

Part of me says gross, the other part says put that in my face.
Thats what she said.

I went on a Coney Island adventure where there were creatures and the Cyclone and burned footie bottoms from the sand.

These fish are prehistoric.
Who says?Me.

Tiny pony how I'm apposta ride you when you swim so side-a-ways?

America Starfish display freedom and unity pride banners flags underwater.

It looks like this manatee was born awhile ago but emotionally I'm saying it is born right then.

I wanna talk to it.

So do they.

Then Staten Island adventure:

Laura Rose Roxy happy surprise birthday!
Magical girl.

James loves dogs.
In an open mouth way.

Baby Bows!

I love this family and this house.
I love their old dog Hercules' shrine in the living room and the way the weird curtains look like my moms.
Mothers in Staten Island, Pennsylvania, Long Island, and New Jersey are all exactly the same.
This is not a generalization.
It is a known fact of the American northeastern culture.

Some people have so much going on in them you can't take pictures.
It's a wonderful trait.

The ferry is full of mutants.
I'm into it.

Museum of Natural History adventure:

Stop looking at me.

I wish he could talk because anyone who wears those boots is probably hilariously pompous.

AyeAye!

MoMa adventure:

Song Dong Project 90.
Waste Not.
Ongoing until September 7th, it's an enlightening exhibit.

Scientist are artists because they make bat wings from engineered pig flesh.
In hypercolor.

Man Ray composed this from a cello and horse hair.
Basically it is my soul actualized.

Beetlejuice.

$9.00 root beer float on the terrace.

I'm learning that I love food more than most other things in this world.
Its beauty I get.

Wooster show adventure:

I'm always so proud yall.
All my love old friend.

Animal Collective in Prospect Park:

The spirit of Denise, also the body.
James was there with us.
Not dancing.

I was very happy to hear My Girls.

It was not the most amazing show of my life but that is already held by Prince at Madison Square Garden.
That will be followed by Radiohead, whenever it is I go to see them.

I'm not going to lie.
I took drugs.
They were fun later when we listened to itunes in bed for 3 hours.
Memories.

New Memories:

Olivia Malone is so pretty.
I like to think about what other people may be thinking about.

I enjoy living in Gotham City.
I'm not leaving.

Its closer to my birthday now.

I bet you can read the mania in my voice.

2009-08-01T00:14:00.009-04:00

My niece thinks I'm am idiot.

I concur.

But.

At least I'm not this lady trying to peddle weird Paula-Abdul-in-her-heyday onesie organza pantsuits on Ebay:

just in case it wasn't horrifying enough, lets do a weird bloated abdomen bony Cruella knee cap detail shot:

Even Prince circa 89 would be like 'girl that shit is very flouncy if you ask me'

PS yes that is a real listing and I sort of considered bidding just so I can have a backup funny drunk costume.

Orrrrrgaaaaanzahhhhhh.
Peeeeearl button deeeeeeeetail.

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.

Now you begin.

2009-07-28T15:38:00.003-04:00

Dear Kenley Elise Miller,
Hello.
You look ready.
I love you.
Your Aunt,
Krissy

hurry autumn

2009-07-28T13:07:00.002-04:00

I give up.

*

my cat just climbed up onto a bookshelf then puked off of it.

2009-07-27T11:34:00.010-04:00

Title of blog?
Just happened.

I still have no photographic account of Atlantic City but at some point I will, including the retarded accident that led to cripple status.
In the meanwhile (excellent Jodeci song) lets talk about sex. (excellent S+P song)
Gross lets actually talk about the god damn hurricane from hell (or from hot south american winds??) that showed up yesterday afternoon.

The idea was to enjoy crisp cool beers at a lovely discount cost thanks to Bogdan The Prince of Copenhagen and Obscure Art. And Hats.

GoodWorld moved to Allen and Delancey and changed their name to something weird like Flying White Oysters.
This guy was having a really swell time reading the papers in a tweed suit and sneakers.

I doubt I need to clarify but he was not American. Really?!?
Truthies.

Then this happened.

All the windows and doors open and swinging, the wind blowing packs of cigarettes off of tables....
It was cinematic and invigorating.
Summer storms are a weather phenomenon that I always seem to forget about. Then they happen and they are so amazing and electric.

Stephanie came and told us a really long story.

I was tired thanks to my faggot broken arm, and they were making faces like this.

Short attention spans, not your fault Porto.

Thats better.

It was a really good first afternoon back...
Izabella is all about playing matchmaker for me. Hi, blind dates? My favorite activity behind eating a sandwich in the tub.
After Good White Oyster Fuck we went home and Liv cooked pasta and Stephanie cleaned my room.

I'm feeling lucky.

Also lucky?
Today is the 25th Anniversary of PURPLE RAIN!
Heres a little math magik.
I'm 25.
The movie musical is 25.
My sister is giving birth to my new niece today meaning...
THIS BABY WILL HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY EVER AND I WILL THROW HER A PURPLE RAIN PARTY ON HER 25TH BDAY WHICH WILL BE THE FILMS 50TH ANNIVERSARY.

I feel like my brain might explode if I think about it.

Excitement can be too much for some people.
I really feel you Sue.

Meanwhile I dream of make outs and bike riding.

2009-07-23T11:57:00.002-04:00

Dislocated shoulder and fractured humerus means no blogging at the moment.
I'll be back as soon as my will to live normally returns.
I miss being moderately interesting.

xo from the cripple ward!

photographs coming soon.

I'll be on the steps of the park on Chrystie by Whole Foods. Dying.

2009-07-16T23:31:00.030-04:00

I like to start every post by saying I blog less than I used to.

So.
if anyone still reads this bullshit, my sincerest reparations are to come.
And by reparations I mean pictures of things like more babies and other snoozy business.

First of all I want to say Olive is very pretty especially in the glorious sun rays that stream into her new apartment.

We went to an excellent art show situation event whateverthefuck last week and Will was as spastic as I expected. As you can maybe tell from this terrifying photo.
The new me is very coy around men, and every man there was HandsomeGlory so I spent most of the night blushing. This is not a lie, I in fact blush now. I don't know whats going on with me.

I like when there is food and endless booze and a band and dancing and fire escapes and roof access and cute humans.
Hint: all of these things were present
Hint followup: if you sit right by the food, lots of boys will gravitate towards where you are, making it easier to let them get a good look at you.
I employed this tactic for at least an hour.

That art looks like Cisco Adlers balls.

The roof.

Free alcohol leads to dance explosion.

More things happened and then I went to Atl for my sisters baby shower.

Airport humans.

We ate here after the family picked me up.
Something about that is funny to me.

This is my dramatic southern baby shower gear. And face. Theatrics.
Realize how hard it is for me to post this photo.
Everything about it is eyeroll worthy.
But I'll tell you something, I look pretty.
So I'll be that.

My boo in the car.

My boo at the pool.

Right: my sister, 9 months pregnant, baby shower guest of honor
Left: my cousin, 6 months pregnant, her body looks just like mine after I eat cake.
What. The Fuck.

Pule Perty!

I'm pretty sure there is a picture exactly like this from 20 years ago. Aunt Linda holding me and someone else.
Now its Cashen and Kayla.
Also please look at Nancy swimming with a baby panda tube.

These two are a fucking trip.
I'm telling you, the urge to rip your clothes off as much as possible is surely genetic.
I got it from my mom, who got it from Howie and Jess.
Now we have a new flock of nuders.
Nude on.

Oh hey Dad you're funny to me.

I think this is what husbands look like in the south.
By the way, thats not an insult even remotely, what you're seeing here is a great guy.
Whether or not he cuts his sleeves off, hes still radder than most of the assholes I have to look at day in and day out.

Shayla is nearly a year old and this was the first time we met.
She obviously adores me.
She stuck her goldfish crackers in my mouth which for a baby, its like giving you handfuls of god damn rubies.

Had a good time.
It was a short trip
I love my family.
I went home again.

I feel like clouds are getting weirder.

New York.

Philharmonic in Central Park.
Its mostly about the snacks.

The ghost of Krissy sunbathing in Tompkins with Natasha.

Today.
Hung over and tired and gross.
Met Conrad to run uptown and try to get my Vespa going.
It was hot as sin out for real for real.
It melted my zest for life.

Two hours, a jumper cable, a can of gasoline and a coconut water later, C-rad can get the engine to turn over and the bike drives about ten car lengths before it dies.
I feel like I should repay the man for his efforts in life blood or magical potions.
He tried really hard.

This is why I love men so much.
They think shit like this is exciting.
They get their panties all twisted up tinkering with batteries and wires and engines and shit like that.
We shall return with a new battery next week and get this bumblebee looking mother fucker on the road.
PS I've been watching Kenny Powers all day.
My language is atrocious.

I'm exhausted now and I'm off to Atlantic City tomorrow for sexy lady weekend.
Before I go please look at this chinese kid with a heart shaved into his head.
Also his parents were a riot.

All my love, friends.
Exes and Ohs.

In every wish and dream And happy home You will find the kingdom of The Gnomes

2009-07-06T23:53:00.029-04:00

Everything comes in giant waves, no?

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

I'm eating saltines in bed.

2009-07-02T00:07:00.006-04:00

I am completely jealous and hypnotized.

Whats more special than you? Its me.

2009-07-01T16:54:00.005-04:00

One of my biggest problems is not thinking I'm the shit.
I probably should at least within reason.
I'm cute and funny and I win at Scrabble most of the time.
I can cook and I have great hair.
I help people move to new apartments and forgive people when they fuck up.
I take care of babies and I give Fail Dudes a chance as long as they have some heart.

I think B and Kanye are probably the most self assured public figures maybe ever.
I mean really.

On that note, I'm about to go marinate some chicken and have another beer.
Summer afternoons at home are like panda bears burping rainbows into jars and wrapping them up in sparkly bows for your birthday.
(when you open the jar it doesn't smell like burp it smells like strawberry KoolAid)
(or jasmine)

The Bee The Butterfly Man

2009-06-29T20:38:00.004-04:00

Monday night penis joke!

Marion did not think it was that funny because it was in her soup.
PS Marion is in Richmond now.
Hi I miss you.
Road trip!

In other news, I think it is weird that Bowery Electric has that mirror wall outside.
I don't understand the concept.

Furthermore, the interior of that place is not so bad (recent realization)
Too bad no one ever goes there.
They need some sexy bartandrahs and some special hipster djs and its in the bag.
Or drink specials.
Always a good idea.
I just right now put it together that thinking outloud on a blog means it is inevitably going to be bor-hong.
I am falling asleep just writing this.

Today was therapy day and my best friend I mean therapist, Claude, discussed with me why I am afraid to be gentler with people.
I told him its because I play the role of being absurd and uncouth so well that it gets laughs.
I don't know who I am really if I'm not saying something negative that in turns comes out as humorous.
I told him I'm willing to bet if I soften up I won't be nearly as entertaining.
Case in point, this blogging sitch right nyah.
He told me when I want to be mean I should pretend that part of me is like the asshole cop everyone hates, who can never just be decent and let shit slide.
I thought that was an amazing suggestion so I'm going to try it.
When my mouth is ready to say "Hey fuckface I bet yer hung like a baby I can tell because you've got lady hands. I hope yer whore mom buys you a new car for your birthday then you accidentaly drive it off a cliff"
I will tell that part of myself to shut up.
I will be telling the asshole cop character inside me to shut up though, so it will be like a lil trick on meself.
Hooray for tricks!

Speaking of tricks I learned a few from this guy the other night

I have more news but I would rather eat my green beans in peace instead of doing this.

Hustler on the rise, laces untied

2009-06-26T15:14:00.002-04:00

I sort of can't wait to hear Jadas gravel voice.
PS I refuse to wear sneakers.
XOhhnoshedi'int.
(yes she did)

“If you enter this world knowing you are loved and you leave this world knowing the same, then everything that happens in between can be dealt with.”

2009-06-26T00:14:00.004-04:00

I sat on the bus from 72nd st all the way to 1st and 1st.
No music, didn't open my books, didn't do the NYTimes crossword.
Honestly the dramatics aren't needed because death is just another part of life.
but I feel sad anyway.
The simplest version of that emotion, thats what I feel.
When I think about all the pain he must have gone through all of those years, the way he was adored and treated like a pet as a child.
The way he never had a chance for the freedom of normalcy.
The way he couldn't make a single mistake, he couldn't give up performing, practicing, working...
for his whole life.
The way he mourned that by becoming what WE all wanted him to be. A character, a muse, a freak, a king.
He spoke so soft like he was scared of saying anything to make us stop loving him.
And whatever it was he did over the years that was immoral or unusual or misunderstood...I think we can use humanity to understand what it is to be truly flawed.
I used to dance and sing to my parents vinyl and he was one of my favorites.
When I sing his songs I feel good about my voice and myself.
When I dance to his music I wish I could do what he did so easily.
Everyone wants to be loved and remembered.
I'm going to love him and remember him.

When I Grow Up

2009-06-21T22:00:00.002-04:00

When I grow up, I want to be a forester
Run through the moss on high heels
That’s what I’ll do, throwing out boomerang
Waiting for it to come back to me

When I grow up, I want to live near the sea
Crab claws and bottles of rum
That’s what i’ll have staring at the seashell
Waiting for it to embrace me

I put my soul in what I do
Last night I drew a funny man
with dark eyes and a hanging tongue
It goes way bad, I never liked a sad look
From someone who wants to be loved by you

I’m very good with plants
When my friends are away
they let me keep the soil moist
On the seventh day I rest
for a minute or two
then back on my feet and cry for you oooh oh

You’ve got cucumbers on your eyes
Too much time spent on nothing
waiting for a moment to arise
The face in the ceiling and arms too long
I wait for him to catch me

Waiting for you to embrace me

FEVER RAY

*HAPPY SOLSTICE*

Feeling you from the inside.

2009-06-21T14:55:00.024-04:00

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.

Oldest, dearest, I never forget you.

Kisses from the summer solstice.

Theatrics!

2009-06-17T21:48:00.002-04:00

SO MACABRE.

I wish Trent and I could get married in a black forest that smells like density and wilting rose buds :(

Whoops just kidding.

Whoops serious.

Yall thought you knew me.

I'm really relaxed about things.

2009-06-16T23:54:00.004-04:00

I feel like this is an example of exactly how horrible I am on my pain in the ass days:

(ps sorry Hoyt for blowing up your spot about how gay you are)

me: oh my god can i just say it
i fucking hate
coffee
i hate the smell
so much
jhoyt: coffee is slang for get a beverage
me: it smells rotten
jhoyt: of any kind when its too early to drink
well, I like it
so deal
me: what about the smell
jhoyt: Its different when you like it
me: when i smell coffee and im with someone else
i automatically dislike them

jhoyt: it forms a receptor that associates those molecules with heightened awareness
me: via association
jhoyt: even iced coffee? its not fragrant
me: i know what it smells like under the ice
jhoyt: well, sorry dude
just give me a mint, and I'll stay away from your nose until Im done
I love espresso
I used to hate it, but now, I LOVE IT
me: disgusting

me: when i dont like things
i really trul;y am grossed out
jhoyt: you can have soda
me: the trifecta is coffee, yogurt, and bananas
those three
i wanna throw up just seeing the words typed
jhoyt: like banana chopped up in the yogurt?
me: oh my god
fuck you
seriously
jhoyt: a parfait?
me: its disgusting
the worst part is kids love yogurt and bananas
but i cant touch or smell them
i get the willies
so i have to make them do it themselves which is really messy
jhoyt: is it a weird trauma thing?
me: i dont know
i just hate them
they smell like rotting corpse in my mind
jhoyt: when Im feeling lazy on weekends I get a stick of ostrich beef jerky and this really processed stiff creamy icelandic yogurt
SO GOOD
me: like decay
everything you say is so latent homo today
jhoyt: deal with it
you should bang the homo out of me
that would totally teach my coffee drinking yogurt loving ass a lesson
me: thats disgusting
talking like that with yogurt in the sentence
also ass
ass plus yogurt
plus coffee
plus the term bang
all of that was a nightmare

In conclusion, being friends with me obviously sucks.
Goodnight.

All the good ones are dead or doing yoga.

2009-06-16T16:40:00.005-04:00

I kind of really want to see Stone Temple Pilots in Atlantic City next month.
Maybe to get ready I will pierce my nose the night before and stock up on Manic Panic and get some really bad dope to shoot.
Whoops just kidding.
I'm not kidding about wanting to see them though.

How epic was Unplugged???
I have intense memories of falling in love with Scott Weiland/Eddie Vedder/Kurt Cobain(RIP)/Layne Staley(RIP)

PS MTV Unplugged is coming back according to this music news blog post but its only going to be online and it includes Katy Perry.
Really?
Fuck you, MTV.
If you can not live up to the year of 1993, then just give up already because I hate you.

Hi Waaaaayne.....Hiiiiiiii.

2009-06-15T20:57:00.013-04:00

I just touched my cat's butt by accident and I'm really disgusted by it.

Something else I'm disgusted by is the state my legs are in.
I look like a teenage runaway who lives under a bridge and has a vitamin deficiency.
I have been tearing up South Street on my bike as well as having too many drinks and aggressively dragging said bike up and down stairs and such.
That explains the severely bruised ankles/calves/thighs.
I have this super irritated shredder cut that looks kind of like a tiger tried to climb up my limb. Its is a little swollen and still fairly dirty.
I fell. That's the whole story.

So today Claude, my cognitive behavioral therapist/new best friend told me in jest that I should tattoo 'I don't date losers' on the palm of my hand to serve as a personal reminder.
We talked for at least 20 minutes about the fact that I specifically chose to continue seeing men who I am FULLY AWARE are unavailable.
AKA substance abusers, cheaters, jobless drifters, emotionally invested in other women, depressed, etc etc etc.
To be totally honest, this is something I swear to God, I didn't know I was doing.
Heres a sample of how blind I am:

Claude: What exactly do you want from ____?
Me: I think I have no idea what I want. I think I wish things would just be happy and awesome. The men I like, they are actually good people, seriously Claude.
Claude: OK. Good. Are they available?
Me: No.
Claude: OK. So you have to stop seeing them. Cut it off. Its OK for things to just not work out. No one is a 'loser' we are just humans. You are not picking losers, you are just being *MALADAPTIVE.
Me: But that means I don't win.
(THAT IS VERBATIM. VERBATIM)
Claude: Riiiight. So you're winning right now? I mean... wouldn't winning be dating people who want to be with you? And respect you? And are ready?
Me: What? This is stupid. I win if I make it work.
Claude: Guess what. You just made my job easier. Repeat yourself outloud. See how it sounds.
Me: Oh shit.

Aaaaaand SCENE.
Tada!
Then he gave me some exercises to do and things to research and looked at me like a little gnome and wiggled his glasses and said, "Its all about the path. Thats all. Just the path."
That gave me a panic attack but I settled down and was fine.
Great Job.

*Maladaptive behaviors refer to types of behaviors that inhibit a person’s ability to adjust to particular situations. This type of behavior is often used to reduce one’s anxiety, but the result is dysfunctional and non-productive. For example, avoiding situations because you have unrealistic fears may initially reduce your anxiety, but it is non-productive in alleviating the actual problem in the long term.

Enough about that for now.
Here's some things me and Gob did together recently.

(not this Gob)

Gob and I looking at the river while weird Chinese people fish and set things on fire.

Gob and I looking out at machinery and dome as pictured below.

Awkward running father who did not understand that one would need wind in order to successfully fly a kite.
Men alone with children is interesting because of their completely sporadic fits of logic. Its there...then its not? Oh here eat this popsicle for breakfast. What? You refuse to now eat these eggs? Why???
Lets fly a kite! Shit, there is no wind. I guess I'll just walk around with you with no water and long sleeves on this very hot afternoon until your mother gets home.
Shrug.
I love men, I do. And the idea of a loving father, a fun father...its a Dream. Its special!
But.
Lets face it.
Theres a reason why kids think dads are fun and moms are pests.
Somebody has to be the pest or every kid in the world would have rotten teeth, dirty faces, infected fingies and weird brown bag lunches with little to no nutritional value.
I generalize because its funny.

Death is part of life.
But maggots eating squirrel eyes is still gross.
FDR is literally killing it.
(ba-dum CHHHH!)

Tank top balding sandals guy and his giant turtle, who may in fact be his romantic lover.
PS the turtle lives in a boat house.
Baller.

This has nothing to do with my bike rides, but please look at this man on the train.

His toupee was SO UNBEWEAVABLE in person.
It looks like a hair hat!
I have never seen anything like it.
It was so shiny and wiggish and his little remaining wiry gray hairs poked out all around its border.
He also had the weirdest kit I have even seen, dirty denim with elastic waist and cuffs?
One velcro shoe one with laces?
A fucking confetti party time pattern umbrella?
An expensive-ish watch?
I'm pretty sure hes one of those people who tries to sell you free things like copies of the Onion or 'appraisal on air conditioning unit installing' coupons he got in the mail. Super Saver!
He probably also eats people.

The opposite of scary train guy is this kid, who I met at Stephanies bday BBQ.

He was really good at scrounging our food and also tried to plant an avocado pit in the dirt so the park could have a fruit bearing tree.
I gave him bubbles and a pop ice.
Then I played ball with him.
His face makes me happy so I am going to go to bed before something ruins it.

Arr-vwar, creeps!

Claire Fisher marries Ted Fairwell in the end, don't forget that

2009-06-12T21:51:00.006-04:00

FACT:
I have decided that women do not change.
Ever.
I was just IMing with a very beautiful special coy intelligent 13 year old I babysit for Wednesday afternoons.
Yes that sentence is 100 percent truth.

I like to be supportive and be a good listener because there is no greater relief at that age...

Anyway, we were talking about boys.
How when you are friends with a boy, he wants to kiss you.
And boys you want to kiss, don't really want anything from you at all.
In fact, they want to date your bestie.
What a shame.
(PS this is all a direct tale from said 13 year old, it is not just a worst-case-scenario nightmare as you may suspect)

That gives me anxiety. Right now. At 25 years old.

More accurately though, the whole thing makes me optimistic that nothing really changes.
If you have faith, there is a time when it just kind of works.
When you're a little older than you wanted to be.
Not fit to wear white anymore.
Sort of tired looking with something other than Prime Ass Shapeliness.
Then I think, if all goes according to girl dream formula, someone totally loves you to an absurd degree anyway.
And you do not get tired of them.
And it is not gross when you wake up and they are staring at you.

Basically what I'm saying is, we are in love.

How rad would it be if my name turned out to be Kristina Messina?
Admittedly not that rad but get real hes a fox.

(lets say thats me)
(its not a stretch)

Open Request:
If you are in fact a man hope you read none of this because it makes me look fairly psychotic.
Theeeinks!

Advance Issue, Yer Welcome Edition

2009-06-12T18:28:00.004-04:00

Lets go places together whenever we can.

I like other people doing the work for me.

AKA this website listing shit to do by timeline/hood/category.

Its almost like there is too much to do and we are all spoiled rotten by stimulation.

Now point your fingie at yourself and hatefully mutter :::fuckin jerk::::
Now shake your head slowly and TSST.
Do all of this looking in the mirror you haven't windexed since you moved in 4 years ago.

Call me later bye!

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*permalink for this site will be under LETS GO DO THIS STUFF.

Don't say everyone is disappointing

2009-06-12T00:14:00.005-04:00

Please remind me to hang a creaking park swing in my next apartment.
In the living room.
The living room may be small enough that when I swing back and forth, my toes will touch the wall behind me then the wall in front of me.

Also remind me to not do drugs.
Its for the kids.

Now I am going to remind you to see Away We Go.
Here are two screenshots that might make you feel intrigued as well as a bit fuzzy:

I want to see more movies and drink more cherry coke.
I want to take a very short vacation and bring someone to the beach who thinks they don't like the beach.

Tomorrow I want to be given the tooth thats coming out.
So if you are up at 830 am please remind me to take it home to make into a ring.

This Is Dedicated To The Ones I Love

2009-06-07T23:31:00.018-04:00

tired.
too tired for capital letters.
i got a new tube in my back tire today so i rode around forever an ever with jeylan.
i had my first slurpee of the summer.
two complaints then no more:
1. my chest hurts from breathing all hard on my tiny ass trick bike (ps i forgot what a shitshow going over the manhattan bridge is on one of those little things)
2. i have a fucking throbbing rager of a toof and im scared

Now I can use capitals.
My soulmate/sewlmate Porto's birthday is right nyah.
I love you Stephanie, you make me want to cuddle.
You make me a better woman.
You had me at hello.
Also, you complete me.
Also, I do like the movie Jerry McGuire and I will quote it whenever I damn well please.
What I don't feel like doing yet is uploading the shitty pictures I took from her barbequebe today.
So I will do that tomorrow.

There are things I love other than Stephanie and her birthday:

I love Hiyme and Olive.
I love that they have a new apartment and are my neighbors now.
I love Hiyme staring at this rack thinking about how to make his home more efficient and snazzy.

I love rubber gloves.
I am going to put it right out there and say, I think they feel really sesssssual.
I would wear a rubber leotard.
If that is too much information for you, then my suggestion is this.
Scram.

I love penne, radicchio, baby spinach, pancetta, diced onion, garlic, good olive oil and a little stock.
And fresh grated parm.
And a glass of passionfruit carrot juice.
And pink Himalayan salt.

I 'love' dinner at Pink Pony with happy couples.
Tastes like bitter.
JK seriously I like eating dinner there.
With those people.
Also the 8 other people who were at the table.
It was a big table.
I love big tables?
Yes.
Also a truth, I just decided.

I love how JensRocker looked at her going away party.
I love the lighting on the roof deck thing at The Delancey.
I also love that she is going to go somewhere and try something new, which is brave and smart and free.

I love my niece when we lunch at B Bar.

I love giving her a purple turtle tail.

I love her guilty-ass Oreo ice cream bar face situation.

I love being the one to get her nudies in the fountain at my favorite park.
I also love how much she looks like her mom.
I also love that her mom is my sister and her stomach is hugely preggs again.

I love baby hair.
I love how shes eating.
Again.
For the 18th time.
In like 2 hours.

I love JJ being with my family.
Or being in my family.
Same diff.

I love Mega Beth and how she haggled a bum over long stem rose pricing.
$3?
NO.
2 FOR $5.
THANKS.
I love that I got the other one.
Because it made me feel pretty walking home with it.

I love the way it feels when the x ray tech drapes you with a lead apron.
Weight.
You're like a rock sinking into a river.
It makes me lethargic in the most awesome way.
I've been thinking about it for days actually.
I am pretty sure that puts me at a new level of creepy bordering on serial killer status.
But I would never kill anyone because look at all this shit I love.
I am so full of love that it hurts a little bit.

In a good way.

It is officially time to stop talking.

(PS my other sewlmate. Prince Rogers Nelson. His birthday just ended 33 minutes ago. Holler atcher Jeyhovah Wit. XO)

I would say that means you "enjoyed" it.

2009-06-01T18:15:00.029-04:00

Too many things none are interesting.

Today was my first afternoon session with a new character in my life.
His name is Claude.
He is a doctor who reminds me of an actor.
I want to say hes like Willie Garson from Sex and the City.

But he's got something is in there as well to balance out the extreme gayness.
Plus, Claude has a wife.
Not that having a wife un-gays you, but whatever.
Not the point.
Claude is my new cognitive behavioral therapist, and he uses the word fuck randomly in discussion.
That is something I enjoy.
I hope he wasn't doing it because he wants to come off as 'relatable' to a young saucy bitch such as meself.
Anyway, I feel really good about seeing Claude every Monday afternoon, I think I will slowly but surely become less of an emotional extremist and more capable of non destructive behavior.
Talking about therapy on a blog may be TMI but NBD.
FU.

I have taken a lot of bad pictures in the last few weeks and have not cared to share them.
Because they are bad.

Speaking of bad.
I'm at my desk facing the window out to the courtyard where the scary stray cats rule.
Cinnamon just gently climbed in my lap and hissed quietly an her breath went directly up my nostril and it was disgusting.
She likes to hiss AT THE YARD whether or not she can see any other cats.
Thats because cats are stupid.
I mean, they are smart, but not smart like us.
At least they are not stupid like dogs.
Now everyone with a stupid dog is going to get pissed off but lets just face the facts, dogs are really dumb.
The end.

I was talking about bad pictures.
Here go.

Couple weeks ago we took a trip out to Rockaway.

Thanks for driving and making us lay in the back so cops wouldn't pull you over.

I have to dig a hole when I go to the beach.
Just the way it is.
I like the feeling.
I silently throw my self loathing inside.
Wahh.

We played frisbee.
Did some frisbahhh tricks.
Under the leg.
Behind the back.
Matthew McConaughey taught us.
Hes good at that shit.

Please find here an Ultimate Frisbee Slang dictionary.

Denise did this as usual.
Then she legally changed her name to Whatever, Man.

More beautiful than the beach are the sheets that hang from the 'shops' on Pike street come summer.
The chinamen use them to shade their little heads from the blazing sun.
Also to smoke behind and peek out from.
Mmmmkay.

I would ask to buy this one, but its been hanging there for 3 years.
Swine fru.

Then at some point it was Levin's birthday.
Him and Stephanie did things like this:

Being their third wheel is not that bad at all.
I'm not being sarcastic by the way.

Getting drunk on your birthday means wearing sunglasses inside of bars apparently.

Later that night I saw Alice and she did things like this.

I just tried to google what the racist term for Australian is, but the only one even moderately funny is Dingo Fucker.
Sorry to say Alice, but you are now Dingo Fucker in my mind maybe forever.
Yay!

Jen told me what she will miss the most when she leaves New York are the 10 dollar cigarettes.
Psht.
Fine, go to a tropical island and spend 3 dollars a pack instead.
Terrific.
Won't miss you.
Kthxbai.
(please also note the gear of the guy behind her. then tell me who exactly he thinks he is supposed to be)
Speaking of the kid, Thursday night Don Voyage:

Then this existed.

A week later this shirt happened:

Before.

After.

He cooked us chicken sausage and scrimp on the barbie for Memorial Day.
Then I dribbled a Spongebob Squarepants bouncy ball from 6th avenue over to ave A.
I suggest everyone take this as a challenge.
You will enjoy.

I bet whoever wrote this is a dickhole.

Then it was Kikis birthday the other day.
Cheap Shots plays a lot of Van Halen but at least she got to drink for free.

rarr rarr rarr

wait I need eyeliner.

Corrine Weiner came eventhough everyone hates her.

Audrey Hep or saaanthing.

They got me to Williamsburg for a party in a basement.
Really?

Mhm.

Molly and Raf did this for awhile.
Its called Pieeertah or something.
Art History.
I slept a lot.
Someone can google it and then correct me.

Latinos.
They do it better maybe.

People in Williamburg are so knee deep in their own shit, I mean ART, that they can hardly breathe.
Its amazing.

Now that I've insulted, generalized, and judged my work for today is done.
I have to watch the Bachelorette and eat noodles.
Sexy.

Yawn

2009-05-26T17:22:00.002-04:00

If you want this blog post to be funny and lighthearted, please bear with me.
I don't know if you will be too impressed.
But at the very least I want you to know I have some things I want to share with you that could change today or tomorrow or next year, I really don't give a fuck when.

Sew...

Tally Dead Dead found something he wrote a month ago. It was a number of things written actually, but one of them corresponded to moi.
I was really flattered and pleased to know he develops theories on my being, also amazed at how insightful it was.
It said,
"A girl who does not know what she looks like, so she wears a mask to know what she looks like."

Very apropos, seeing as I've been reading a book called "Mindfulness and Psychotherapy."
My strange perception of self has lead me to read this text despite the fact that it is written specifically for licensed therapists.
Eyeroll.
I am not a therapist.
In fact, I refuse to even see a therapist, at least the traditional Freudian "tell me about your father" type.

This book really is full of gems, let me tell you.
Mindfulness is just about living in the exact moment.
Western psych tells us that if we feel sad or are "maladapted" it is because we are wounded. Our esteem, or our outlook, our personal mental state is scarred and is reacting to the rest of the universe in a less than advantageous way.
What I'm learning is this...
It is not about wounds at all.
When I am being in the moment, something will always be happening.
It is not that these things happening are inherently bad, or will lead to certain suffering; it is my reaction when I internalize and interpret it that causes suffering.

Par Examplay:
If some dude turns into a fagget and sends me some text I don't like the tone of, I can CHOOSE to let it affect my mindset or not.
The actions in the universe are so out of my hands, its not even funny.
What if I just looked at the text and let it wash over me.
OK. That happened. Wipe my hands of it. No big whoop.
Maybe later I can ask what it was all about.
Or not!
Thats the amazing thing, my brain can do whatever it wants as a response to stimuli.
Real talk.

Another solid idear:
If we practiced Eastern psychology, which is where mindfulness stems from, we would see that happiness is achieved more effectively when we abandon the idea that we are a separate entity.
You eat an apple.
The apple is not you, right?
You're holding it!
Theres you.
Theres a piece of fruit.
Not rocket science.
Even in your stomach its still not you right, because you could vomit?
What about as the sugars enter you and break down to become energy?
There is no longer this distinct barrier between the self and the object that was so distinctly "not you."
So who really gives a fuck about this whole "sense of self" hoopla?
There is no self.
Theres a bunch of conscious energy bound up in this body we walk around in, bumping into other stuff, trying to find all of these answers, searching for this unattainable answer.
And we think we find it by that know 'know thyself' journey.
I am not saying its a waste of time, not at all.
But there is a sigh of relief for me thinking that I don't have to know just who I am.
I could just shrug.
I could literally be a living SHRUG.
Its sort of like Wooderson from Dazed and Confused.
Shit just is how it is.
Right on right on.

There are so many things I am thinking about in relation to what I am an where I am and how I can move closer to this happiness monks and gurus and 'glass half-fullers' rave about.
I would hope one day that I'm so good at being happy that I can start working on being enlightened!
This is so far down the road it is almost laughable but a girl has to have goals, no?

Part of knowing myself would be knowing that my peace and well-being can not be transplanted into me via the acceptance from others.
There is no lover to fill me enough, theres no baby to adore me enough, theres no friend to support me enough.
And although it sounds bleak, it isn't.
I think its strangely comforting to know that no one else has that power.
I do maybe, if I work really hard.
I swear to god, I do.
So do you, by the way.

OK now say it.
Fuck you Krissy for being so self-righteous.
You smug little bitch.
You don't know shit about shit, you think just because you read some books and had a thought provoking day you get to bore the daylights out of everyone now.
I would be saying that if I were reading this coming from someone else.
But that my friends is because I'm an admitted Hater. Please note the capital H.
I hate on people like dogs pee on territory.

There is something on my mind in fact, and its about feeling rejected.
It is pretty all-consuming this afternoon and it has a real sting to it.
That makes me a hypocrite a little, considering all of the things I just said.
But saying it might help me get past it.
My fingers are perma-crossed at the moment.
Great thanks.

I could name my kid Ladies and Gentlemen if I want to.

2009-05-19T17:00:00.014-04:00

Sew....

I met someone.

But now I'm back.

I don't have anything else to say on that topic so lets all just move on, shall we?

Well.
This is awkward......

I was also totally jobless for a few weeks there and was so beyond depressed I forgot how to drink, forgot how to write, forgot how to get along with people, and forgot how to get up before noon.
Whoops2009.
I don't think I realized my whole life was changing right before my very eyes, like going through puberty and getting your period in gym class.
There is a relation, I'm just not sure if its all that direct.

I don't even know what I want to blog about.
I don't even know if I remember how to blog.
Brace yourselves.

For starters, summer will begin soon.
Washington Square Park looks amazing and sounds amazing and today I saw Matthew Modine riding an orange bike around the fountain.
He is both taller and sexier than I had previously assumed.
The Deenster (what I am going to secretly call him)
is not in the fountain picture, but use your imagination plus this recent picture from some New York publication of Deenster on said ugly bike.

Part of me wants to discuss what he was wearing today and how his hair was darker, but I think I have already devoted too much energy to a C list celebrity and his jaunt in the park.

New topic.
Madonna, your boyfriend is a teenage homosexual and you are a senior citizen wearing school girl collars.
Please abort your mission to be the grossest woman on the planet right nyah.

Oh wait, I'm sorry, to be the grossest woman on the planet you would have to be wearing these:

I feel like those are used 'sexually'
and that makes me uncomfs.

Also?

Ew second trimester pregnant centaur hippie reading the news.
You look like you are made of dough covered in fleece.
I hate you very much.
You do not qualify and one of the 'coolest homemade costumes' as your website implies.

Time for another shitty famous person story.
This is a table full of old ladies who I assumed to be lesbionics, at Max Fish:

I could sit here for the rest of my life trying to determine why these people would ever be at Max Fish in the first place, but that is of little consequence.
The only thing that matters is that moments after taking this picture, they have to squeeze together a lil bit to make room for their pal coming to the table.
Cathy Mitchell?

Nope.

Josh Hartnett.
Josh Hot-nett.
So Hot-nett sits with these women who he is apparently besties with, or maybe hes fucking all of their daughters I don't know.
It was weird and that is the end of that story.
Also weird, Tally Dead Dead came into the city that night and met Molly for the first time.
This is only something you would care about if you were one of the two of them.
But it was exciting and they are both tall.
And they both sort of look like mice.

I should get in the shower right now because Porto is coming over so we can buy dinner ingredients from Pathmark with her food stamps.
But I have more things to talk about I think.

This is who I spend my mornings with now:

If you give me a soft thing with fabric of many colors, I will look at it for 6-8 seconds I think. Then I will put it down and it will not have changed anything about my existence.
Judging by le behebeh's expression, I do not think we could say the same for him.
His head is very large and his feet very small.
He is one of the cutest things I have ever seen, even surpassing those pictures of chimps hugging kittens or otters kissing.
Those of you who have previously wondered why I continue to be a nanny, there you go.
Because LOOK AT THAT THING.

end of story.

On a more terrifying note.
Chinatown continues to fail.

Capsizing buildings?
No big whoop.
Just rope off Pike Street for a week or so and hope the giant pieces of concrete teetering don't drop on the commoners.

This blog is now over and I am going to get ready to do this:

I shall return, this time with shorter blog hiatus.

Zeeeeeirnt.

Martha Stewart Living on the edge

2009-04-27T14:32:00.036-04:00

Re: title of this blog, I'm REALLY good at Wheel of Fortune 'Before and After' puzzles.
Constructing them and solving them.
Just another thing I'm good at that will never get me ahead in life.
Big Whoop.

OK.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ONE OF MY DEAREST FRIENDS, THE MAN WHO SPEAKS TO MY SOUL EVERY DAY, MY HEART, MY TALL ONE, MY ITTLE JARN DOLL, MY DEAD DEAD.
I love you Jon Walter, you are 26 and alive as anyone could ever be.
Jon's self portrait

Sew.
I've been neglecting my blog obviously.
I want to be witty and talkative but I feel like I just can't.
I think being unemployed has made me less of a person.
The last week and a half has been brunches, beer, east village, LES, chinatown, puppets, happy hour, bikes, girls, boys, and ridiculously unstable weather conditions.
I also read a couple magazines, watched a lot of dvds, did extensive research on future film releases/trailers, and found out the following:
If I leave my windows open at night, my cats shriek absurdly loud at the strays in the courtyard.
At 5am.
Its.
Terrifying.

For now, here are some photographic memories.

Russians and pudgy Latinas def have the shitty shoe market on lock.

this ad gave me a boner everytime I saw it in the subway.
I watched an episode on youtube.
Was it exactly what I expected and wanted?
YES.
PS I watched it with a nine year old boy and it led to this kind of behaviour:

Had a night out on the sidewalk in the EVil with these weirdos.
Me and Jess talked about how the water in Jersey makes the bagels better.
Will shouted "ZOE!" at every woman that passed by.
They sort of act like a creepy married couple that everyone is scared to do dinner with. Except they aren't married. Or dating. Or attracted to eachother. NBW.
I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

These two were being funny I think.
Liv is doing 'story hands'

We wound up at a hookah bar full of creepy Armenians.
Speakers blasting Cece Peniston.
Erman is Armenian but was completely out of his element.
We candle read his tattoos.

That was the first night of ill weather.
I got my butt grabbed by an old dirty lesbian dopehead.
I got epic blisters from wearing wedge heels for the first time this season.
Hiyme drank 48 Red Bulls.
It was such a good memory.
All of it.

***I JUST TOOK A 20 MINUTE BREAK FROM THIS BLOG TO SEND RESUMES. SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE ME A JOB. THANK YOU KINDLY.***

Ok, I'm back.
Oh yeah, I went to a spa upstate with Nan, that was really relaxing and extremely boring.
My mom is so awesome because we go places together and do nothing really and have a great time.
The fullbody Swedish massages were godly.

No one ever cares about what other people vacations look like, so I'll make this short...

I'm always a little sad to say goodbye to New York
Even for just a few days.

As soon as we got to this place we immediately put on robes and spa-ed the fuck out.
When I say immediately I mean it.
Ps does anything smell better than a good spa room?
No.
Is the answer.

This sign expresses exactly the vibe at the Mohonk Mountain House.
QUIET PLEASE.
There were no tvs.
No bars so to speak.
Quaker balling.

My moms gear is always 1. sparkly 2. colorful 3. teenager-like

Water Therapy

Not planned.
I was ecstatic about this.
Nan on the other hand, not so much.
The room was unusually hot.
That is not a bad joke, its just an ironic truth.

Went shopping in a hippie town nearby, and when we returned to the mountain house it snowed.
So. Lame.
It was 4/20 by the way and here are two things that will illustrate how New Paltz, NY gets down:

advertisement for the local entertainment

novelty stoner item sadly discarded.

OK I'm over taking about the spa, I liked it, it was sleepy, my mom kicks your moms ass.
Non-literally speaking.
My mom wouldn't fight your mom, shes a peacemaker.

Moving on.

Sour Rocker

Babyface Bowman

Sean Connery's grandson, Steven James.

Its been getting hot so we are all doing this stuff:

Amazing brunch season.
LOOK AT THOSE PANCAKES.

Riding bikes past shitty yet epic graf downtown with my main girl.
(this photo dedicated to said main girl Jeylan, I really might not be able to smile without you. Pause)

Ride to a BBQ.

rooftops.

gnome offerings.

people who have their shit together live in this fashion.

Oh hai.

Sometimes I think Stephanie looks like someone who should be an agent for really obnoxious young actors.

Please note Wyatts hangover face. It is perfect.
PS the olive oil looks like Jagermeister.
Why are people in marketing so fucking retarded?

I look like I design bongs but I really design Prada sunglasses.
I also have the most infectious laugh known to man.
Also my name is Brock.
Win.

Sitting outside at bars is always a good look in the hot ass evening.

Is it just me or is this fucking cute?

My bike is suitable for anyone really.
25 year old girls with short legs.
Grown men.
Whatever.

Hey gurl.

ConRAD attempting to take his name to a very literal level.

Sunbathing in Bushwick with Marion healed all pain.

Saw this baller from the J train stairwell.
He inspired me with color.

Also inspiring.
Boxing Jew puppetry.

Is anyone tired of this blog post yet?
I am.
Truly.

This has gone on too long and my fingers hurt.

Thats what he said.

ZING!

Holler please.

2009-04-15T19:45:00.005-04:00

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.

Open Letter

2009-04-11T03:40:00.003-04:00

Dear Nick,

Lets be real, you are too cool to read blogs.
But I'm sure with our gossipy friends, this will get back to you anyway.
Remember when I hated you and then we sort of tried to fight at Sweet Paradise?
I told you good thing you wear glasses or else I would have to punch you.
Then you called me a bitch probably, which is pretty accurate.
But now I think you're great!
Why?
Because who cares.
Good times for all.
Werking it out thats the goal.
Best part is now we get to have booze fueled H2Hs (heart to hearts) whenever we see eachother. Win Win.
How did I not see your weirdo videos until right now? Not really sure.
But I'm really glad that around 3 minutes and 15 seconds (exactly) you work in a little footage of me fully displaying my underground disdain for all that you are.
JK you're the best.
(Fag)

Also this video held my attention for an entire 7 minutes.
Amazing.

TVTV 1 from TV TV on Vimeo.

the teachers

2009-04-11T02:53:00.004-04:00

I loved Big Bird to an intense degree as a kid. I had this very large talking Big Bird doll that played tapes you loaded into his back. And I loved that movie, Follow That Bird.
Turns out the guy who made all the music for the film is Van Dyke Parks, who also worked on my favorite album of all time, Ys by Joanna Newsom. What a lovely coincidence.
I digress.
I used to cry at the end of the episodes of Sesame Street because they meant so much to me. There was a strange loneliness hearing the closing music and seeing... 'this episode of Sesame Street was brought to you by....'
James Taylor singing Jelly Man Kelly with the kids and the tuba singer?
Down, down baby I can do karate? Down down baby I can call my mommy?
The pinball machine cartoons?
My Name is You?
Patty Labelle singing "How I Miss My X?"

I mean really.
It goes down as the most inspiring element of my whole childhood.

Who we are and how we work through things has so much to do with the people we look to when we feel a new feeling. Its really simple maybe.

I'm hoping its not some terrible omen, but I came across this amazing clip that aired after Mr. Hooper died on Sesame Street.
Instead of avoiding the subject, replacing the actor, and brushing it under the rug, the adults on Sesame Street tell Big Bird.

The same way I felt 20 years ago, I feel now seeing this.

I don't think I've come across something this beautiful in a very long time.
I hope you watch it friends.

Damn girl your big toes the star of the show

2009-04-11T00:02:00.005-04:00

1943, Tex Avery.
Legendary.
Some nights I just want to watch cartoons and eat chocolate pretzels.
Deal with it.

City Wolf loves them rural gurls in the end....

Very Gullible.

2009-04-10T19:21:00.020-04:00

I haven't talked about my friends on here for awhile.
Did some stuff with them, it was great, they all looked fantastic, I talked too much, they let me. I spent money, they didn't stop me... thanks a lot assholes, and yes, you are my personal accountants/babysitters.

So since being FIRED a week ago, thats really all I've been doing.
Leaning on my friends.
So I don't lose my shit.
I have yet to freak out by the way.
It just hasn't hit me that I am one of the club.
The recession failure jobless deadbeat club.

In other news

Will and Olivia became radioactive.

Molly and Yoshi started a ghost story night at this bar.

Not really to both of those things.
These are the only pictures I have that came out from two separate visits to Home Sweet Home with master bartender/can't-control-the-volume-of-my-voice co-sufferer, Jen.
She and I screamed for a good 5 minutes the other night about both receiving identical lame severance packages when fired.
Thats the great thing, my friends are always willing to yell about things with me. TandemYell.

One night I went to Brooklyn to see Corrine and Butch's new apt with Stephanie. I found out one very important thing. There is no place more boring in the universe than Park Slope.
Unless you have a husband and you're both strapped down with BabyBjorns and you have fucking given up on the possibility of titillation.
They should rename it Apathy Slope.
That place is so absurdly non threatening and boring, this is the scariest graffiti they could come up with:

"DOG"???
You can't even enforce your notification with an ACTUAL dog?
Just a hypothetical dog???
Hatechu.

No one has ever been better suited to have the surname Weiner.
The other other options for Corrine would be if she was named Corrine Faggetron or Corrine ShitShow.
PS, Corrine and Butch have excellent apartment design skills.

I don't know what else I did with my friends because I didn't take pictures of any of it.
I bought a bike.
I did brunches.
I drank some vodka at some places.
I had a couple sleepovahs.
The usual.

Then yesterday I went BACK to Brooklyn (thank god this time to Williamsburg, which, in comparison to Doldrum Slope is ELECTRIFYING)

Dollar mini pitchers? Yes, I will leave Manahatta for that.
Sidenote: Levin and I managed to find the worst cab driver ever to take us from Bowery and Delancey into Brooklyn.
That is not far.
This man bitched the ENTIRE ride asking for info such as "exactly how many blocks are we going?" "Is it very close?" "Can I take this all the way out to Long Island City?"
OHMYGAYGOD shut up.
Stephanie got in the cab and very aggressively requested that he stop asking so many questions at "3 oclock in the goddamn afternoon"
Don't worry, I calmed him down.
Alternate universe?
Yes maybe, but I really did.

Oh great, our destination.

The place was fuckin packed.

We saw a few people outside.
First we saw Sherlock Homeboy with a detective hat and beige trench coat.
Then we saw a Maury Povich couple. Meaning "opposites."
The girl was so tiny and the man was so tall, she only came up to his elbow.
Heres Raffi demonstrating what it looks like when she tries to hold his hand:

Mr Kiki thinks its ok to laugh at the expense of others.
I wholeheartedly agree.

I realized right after I took this picture that it almost perfectly explains these two people.
Stephanie agreed with me by shouting "YES. YES."
Dan agreed with me in the form of a creepy smile.

This is how I look when I'm content.
No, that is not depressed or disgusted.
It's CONTENT.
Please peep the large woman behind me at the bar.
She was sporting a ITALIA athletic ensemble and sunglasses.
Don't worry, I'm sure shes just a giant harmless lesbian with mafia ties and a gun in her 89 Cavalier.

Thumbs up for jewish holidays I guess.

Chiara being in awe of her best friend Raffi.
So gay.

I wish I had these first.
Oakleys are a good look when you have a certain shaped head.
Win.
I should definitely cop a pair of sexy glasses soon so I can use all of my lady swagger to pick up a man just like this:

Why is Kevin Federline's head posted up in a Brooklyn salon?
I don't know.

The icing on the cake was taking the train to Stephs later and seeing RasTrent.
Unfortunately I didn't get any closer so you can't fully experience the cheesiness of the White Guy Dreads Adorned With Woven Hat.

Then I ate almonds and fell asleep.
Then Stephanie yelled at me to get up and we went to a party.
Then I paid too much money for a drink and walked home with Molly.
Then I got Bahn Mi.
It make me feel smiley like this:

Tomorrow I go to New Jersey to see my family.
I hate both ham and deviled eggs, the traditional Easter food.
I will complain for a little while then make salads and roast chicken.
I will also eat tons of cheese and crackers and watch hours upon hours of VH1.
Then I will get drunk and sit in the backyard.
Basically its a dream.
Huzzah.

so dark. so beardy.

2009-04-08T03:32:00.002-04:00

Is it weird that I think I just got a phantom boner?

my sound

2009-04-07T20:58:00.004-04:00

I was walking with Nikki and Jeylan the other night in Chinatown and I heard something and I felt like I didn't know where I was all the sudden.
Someone had a windchime hanging on their fire escape and when I felt the wind and heard the sound, all I could see was my mom.
Me and her on the shore staying at a friends condo. Walking in this little cape town together going into these shops where I bought her a present, some little glass thing.
And she bought windchimes.

I suggest you close your eyes for a few minutes.

Eskimo Heart

2009-04-07T03:09:00.007-04:00

“Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.”

Inuit.

Whens Lourdes gonna take over?

2009-03-31T21:03:00.005-04:00

This video is so hot and this song is so right on and corny!
Madonna was such an idol to me mostly because she has this traditionally masculine element to her...was that some kind of weird defense mechanism? I don't know.
But Pre-kabbalah she was a beacon of sexuality and moxie and liberation.
Who cares? Christopher Walken plays the angel of death!

Sidenote: This song hits amazingly close to home at the moment. I am not scared to admit that. Never scared. Wahhh

Not a Secret!

2009-03-31T19:49:00.003-04:00

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

.

2009-03-29T20:43:00.013-04:00

Propers/BigUps/Paying Dues/Enjoyable Moments:

1. Go see CAPTURED at Collective Hardware 169 Bowery at 8pm tomorrow.

Ben and Dan are very special people.
Though they are both amazingly annoying, they are certainly driven and talented and awesome and I love them.
So.
That is the reasoning behind going to see their movie.
Support them?
Yes.
Do it.
Or else pay the price of being left out.

2. Crystal Moselle is also a little elf of filmmaking.
appréciez svp:

Bijules 2009 from crystal moselle on Vimeo.

fly over the forest howl at the moon lets do this.

Now onto me.
I have some thoughts today.
Here goes.

Opinion.
It is not ok to wear a half pony tail ever.
Unless you are Kimmy Gibler.

Even then, it serves a very specific purpose which is to make your best friend appear way hotter than she actually is in comparison to you.
There is something so gross about the half pony.
Lets call it the centaur.

Opinion.
I think white americans drink a lot more coffee than black americans.
I am basing this on early morning subway rides to work as well as daily observations of patrons of Le Pain Quoditien/Starbucks/a number of delis on Broadway.
I feel as though I would have to do more research on this topic to have it hold any ground, but then I realized another piece of evidence to support my hypothesis...
black americans on tv don't even seem to drink coffee.
Think Seinfeld, Friends, Frasier etc etc. Coffee drinking. You see it. Plenty.
Now think Family Matters, Martin, Bernie Mac Show etc. Did Carl ever sit around drinking coffee? Tommy? Anyone? I feel like the answer is no.
I mean, if I'm wrong I'm wrong. Which I am. Tons.
But this is something I've been thinking about for days.
Obviously I need a hobby.

Opinion.
Twitter is weird.
I never know if I am saying something worth reading or not.
About every 10-12 minutes during the working day, I refresh the Twitterific application on my phone. I apparently need to see what people I know are doing.
Mind you, most of the people who update constantly are people I don't know such as Shaq and Martha Stewart.
I am finding I experience on odd sense of terror when I don't check twitter.
Do I need to know that Martha Stewwies successfully washed her dogs an hour ago?
Yes.
Yes I do.
And that is the terrifying truth about our web obsessed society.

Opinion.
Seeing Morrissey in concert is absolutely not overrated.
Especially if its at Cargenie Hall.
Even if you are in the nosebleeds.
But I would suggest NOT trying to chug a 12 dollar drink in the hall just because you can't bring it to your seat. That is neither fun nor wise.

helloooooo doooown theeeeeeeruh.

Look at them all!
It felt like church is that bizarre?

Menacholy Moz.

Merry Moz!
Melange of emotion, I'm serious.

Not opinion, fact:
I should be wearing these shoes this spring.
So hopefully 800 dollars will drop from the sky.
Theeeinks!

Alexander Wang.
Alexander Boner more like it.
I would take these subs:

Also Fact:
I have retrieved an original Purple Rain Tour muscle tee of rare design.
That is the only thing that matters now.

Final thought of the day is that if Joanna Newsom does not put out a new album soon, I will start to get frustrated.
There are only so many times I can cry tears of joy listening to Cosmia in the middle of the night.

I am willing to bet you won;t watch this, you meaning everyone, but seeing her perform many times, she totally makes me love the magic of life!
I do not mean that even remotely sarcastically.
STALKER STATUS>
Jk I don't stalk her.
Anymore.
Jk I never did!

Or did I.

Heres another one!
This one literally breaks my heart and puts it back together.
I can't really stand it.

Video day!

Moderately astounded.

2009-03-21T22:08:00.003-04:00

Not all of the advertising world is a barren shitty wasteland of demonic manipulation and trickery.
This made me cry!
Thanks Wyatt for bringing it to attention.
Totally inspiring.
Oh my god, life.

PS Robert Frost is still the man.

Hawt and Bahthud

2009-03-21T18:38:00.008-04:00

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.

superfluous.

2009-03-14T20:08:00.015-04:00

Amusing visual and social moments as of late:

The Better History Exhibition featuring many people we all know doing weird things and inviting their parents to come observe it.

Was this purposeful to coincide with the full moon?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Who cares.

Looney Tunes art.

Always forgive the past.
Make friendship from bullshit.
All the hate in the world lives inside our blackened little hearts let it free mkay?
The ex hunny bunny sculpted a pretty amazing snake catching stick for the sake of art.
I want one.

Proud of him for sure.

Troy's art hurts Morry's feelings.

Consuption will be the death of us.
Conceptual living art.
Or just a bunch of slobs whove never heard of a garbage can.

Afterparty on Bowery was very loud.
But at least these guys were doing this:

Outerspace Morry

MegaBeth looking sweet

ARE increasing the noise level.
The metal tooth goblin is all you really need to observe here.

NO TOUCHING.

To sum up:
View art.
Talk.
Hug people.
Talk.
Walk.
Beer.
Talk more.
Smoke.
Itch new tattoo.
Catch cab.
Eat pizza/drink beer.
Argue about whether or not Lady Gaga is disgusting.
Catch cab.
Smoke.
Loud.
Talk.
Talk louder.
Drink.
Smoke.
Talk louder still.
Dance.
Pee.
Eyeroll.
Smoke.
Hug people.
Drink.
Eventually decide you are 'too old' which really just means your ears hurt.
Decide you want to watch a movie.
Catch cab.
Yell at molesters following you when you get home.

Yesterday my cat Cinnamon started drooling.
As in puddles.
That usually means your cat is poisoned and is going to die.
Great job!
So I cried and called my mom because I'm still the kind of person who calls their mom to cry.
Big deal.
But today she looks ok to me so I feel a little less insanely terrified.
If you wouldn't mind, say a prayer for her because shes cute and really spunky and shes too young to die.

Non pet related update:
This is a not that amazingly flattering picture of my butt. The top half of my body looks like bunny ears!

I enjoy Olivia Malone sessions.

It takes Olivia about a half hour and a number of beers to get me to stop scowling at her camera.
Even whilst donning lady lace and twirling, I somehow manage to look slightly pfft.
Or more accurately, TSSSST.

I'M SMILING ON THE INSIDE

This week alone, 4 different male friends have told me that if I continue to make these faces, no man will ever speak to me again.
I am attempting to remedy this problem.
But I'm not making any promises.
You have to weed out the pussies, nahmean?
If you can't hang with the ice grill, you should probably go take a peepee sitting down or something.

In closing, this is my new arm.

The handsome horse is obviously magik, check the completely unstaged beam of light shooting towards his chassis.
Also look how funny my arm hair is!
meeeepmerrppppp arm hair (say that part like a robot)

XO

Pretty sure I'm always having one of dem days

2009-03-14T01:03:00.005-04:00

Hopefully I will return tomorrow after work with some interesting social commentary about my recent activities.
And I will share them with yall.

PS Gingerale is in my top three favorite beverages of all time.
Just a fact nonrelated to anything.

There is nothing funny about this one.

2009-03-12T04:11:00.002-04:00

If my life is a drawing I'm making, using a pencil...

I need to go back and erase a whole bunch of shit.
Because I'm having a really hard time going along making something beautiful with this ugly mess behind me.

I literally wish you could smudge out the things that didn't turn out ok.

Theres no crying in baseball.

2009-03-11T19:15:00.012-04:00

Good thing I hate baseball.

Crash and burn happened yesterday.
I was on a natural high after taking photos with Liv, I had so much fun trying to twirl around in lace undies and a fur coat without scowling.
Every girl should have a photo of herself in her 20s wearing just a short fur coat.
Animals are cute but sos my butt. Annnd I wanna remember it this way. Forever.

Went and met with some friends after that, good times, I was having a Kayne moment with myself.
Speaking in caps.
Telling Jeylans dog that I don't like him.
Playing Labi Siffre followed by Lil Kim followed by Big L.
There was no OFF button yesterday.

Pathetically enough, I realized I was just crazy sad and totally trying to avoid that.
So I just kept going and suddenly around midnight, I'm sitting with one of my best friends in the world at my bosses restaurant, thank god he wasn't there....
and I go into hysterics.
Cryfest.
What?
Got put into a cab in about 2 seconds flat, thank you Jeylan.
It was the opposite of great job.

That being said, the full moon comes tonight so I refuse to leave this apartment now that its dark out. I am willing to bet I would end up in the hospital/a wrestling match/an abandoned alleyway/a coven.

To make myself feel better I'm going to write a little letter to God now.

Dear God,

You are really cute sometimes the way you trick me.
You are like an Almighty Tom Green.
Such a off color sense of humor.
Now that I have finally stopped crying and moping around feeling bad for myself, I am starting to feel pretty ok-ish.
But if you could use your powerz to make my back stop hurting that would be holler worthy.
I might just take ibuprofen because it seems like you are really busy with all kinds of weird astrological flimflam right now.

Holding you down,
Scream atcher gurl,

Kristina

PS Happy Fun Birthdays for JensRockingChair (get it, because shes a year older? Old people like rocking chairs, not Rock Music? sorry I'm really short on wit today)

DJ MacBook Pro Team

I now realize how gay it is that Dan and Daniel styled this photograph.

Who are these people

Looking so sweet 16!

Dance partner

Shout out to my female lovers who took part in a lovely reunion with me a few days ago.
Its always those really good times where you take no pictures because you're so busy being ecstatic.
D Stephanie Liv Krissy Chiara equals happy.
Plus two Dans and a Will and cameos by Jiwon and Nikki and a dash of LA Erin and beers in my purse.
Plus this thing:

Plus rave music.

It's time for cookies and iced tea.

And maybe macaroni first.

Food and jokes are the best.
And TyTy Baby Banks' forehead.

Goodnight!

Human helicopter

2009-03-07T19:01:00.017-05:00

Sometimes (all the time) I'm around kids and I think, holy shit, I am definitely in the wrong era of life.
I've yet to see Benj Button, but I think I had a moment of envy about the whole aging backwards sitch.
Washington Square Park playground is one of my favorite locations downtown. Its such a soul pick-me-up.
I have thought to myself, what kind of crazy person would want to raise their child in a place like this?
At least 50 percent of this city smells weird.
There are about 400 molesters within every 10 block radius.
Bums can be scary and weird, and they seem to like talking to kids, so thats not really a good look.
There are very few flowers or trees or animals or anything like that.
Kids here don't get to grow up with friends with swimming pools down the block, or hammocks and big daddy grills in the backyard.
And forget Brooklyn, thats not even remotely appealing.

But then I see these kids and they are a whole different breed.
Maybe they grow up to be more jaded and see too much too fast, but they seem to carry themselves like wee grownups.
They are not street smart, they are street genius.

They also look hilarious.

Example of the typical parent set:

Please peep lady in the relaxo baggy pant tucked into absurd biker/pirate/art teacher boot.
PS shes not preggo she just really lazy.
I can say that if I want because I kept a closer watch on her just learning to walk one year old son than she did.

To compare, he are some radical kids who basically shit all over their parents steeeee:

Heres my number one.
This boy was tearing around owning the place on this tricycle.
He was absolutely filthy.
He also ate shit about ten times and never let out a whimper.
Loving him.
I really wish I had been able to capture the vintage patches on his school boy blazer.
It was some Baby AC/DC vibe.

This kid could have been his sidekick, but they were both very dolo.
In case any of you forgot, the sound of plastic wheels on playground paving is amazing.
The sound of freedom.

Theres always 2-3 ferocious screaming boys who yell thing at eachother like, "ARE YOU PLAYING STAR WARS GANG OR NOT???? NO? WELL THEN GET OUTTA HERE!"
Also, I can guarantee that their moms were not cool with the shoes off thing but they were like, "Psht...shoes BACK ON? I'd like to see you try it lady."
*also, please note that shoeless boy is actively choking himself.
He was not fucking around.

Little squaw on the other hand?
Just looking after the baby doll.
Get in there baby doll don't talk back to me.
It all formulates so early doesn't it.

Then girls get a little older and start wearing weird stripey leggings and vomiting color explosions all over themselves.
They continue to do it well into their 20s.
Betsey Johnson still does it and shes what, 92?

I guess this kid could one day be Lil Betseys boyfriend.
And by boyfriend I mean guy who throws sand in her face and sometimes shares his capri sun.

The following photos are about the face.
I wanna make more of these faces:

I purposefully left all that empty space to show that this little ginger snap is looking at nothing. Nothing. Shes just amazed period. I am willing to bet Santa Clause could ride by on a shimmering unicorn carrying a Dora backpack filled with cookies and this kid would still be zoned.

Commentary unnecessary.

Someone needs to write a novel about this kids future as a Bollywood star turned weirdo artsy socialite hermit.
Shes like the Indian Miss Havisham.

NBW.
This is where I chill.

Back to getups:

Baby sneaker game in New York is ridic.
Ps...the helmet? Just an accessory. No bike.

I don't care about anything except for the STREAK OF GREY.
Hes four years old tops, and already has grey hair.
Dapperrrrrrr.

If you made it this far, you are about to get a serious reward.
Because.
This kid.
Just posted up on the fence for about an hour.
When I told him I liked his suit, he said:
"Yeah. Sure you do."

I got sonned.

Everyone knows complaining is attractive get with the program

2009-03-05T23:50:00.011-05:00

I'd like to take this opportunity to send out a big fuck you to Waves of Panic.
No, thats not a Brooklyn based band made up of bicurious flannel wearing dudes.
Its just anxiety.
I get it frequently enough that I now report to people while out on the town "having fun"
Like waiting by the bathroom in a bar, and someone I know says "heeey" and my response is "I don't actually have to pee I'm just having a slight panic attack and I'm feeling better in thisssss aaaaarea over heeeere...."

Anyway.
Sometimes I think to myself, wow I really don't want to go out tonight.
I don't want people looking at me, I don't want to look at them either.
I don't want to smell like smoke, I don't want to drink vodka sodas, I don't want to have that couple of hours where you just sort of exist wherever you are waiting for something 'better' to start happening.
Because guess what?
Sometimes, most of the time, nothing better is going to happen.
Thats when I go into my mind and start imagining something along any of these lines:

1. a slightly chilled by not anywhere near cold bottle of orange gatorade
2. an aggressive and pleasurable hair wash at a decent salon.
3. a killer make out sesh with a boy who wears glasses. actually the glasses are a take-it-or-leave-it thing but your imagination works better when you're mad specific.
4. animals dancing like humans, non computer generated
5. a good toe pulling*
6. cheeseburgers
7. funny accents on children
8. warm pool night swimming
9. sitting in the blazing sun on top of that giant stone pyramid thing at the playground by the Met.
10. rolling on furry rugs
*I realize the phrase toe pulling sounds disgusting, but if you've never had someone pull your toes and twirl them around, you're an idiot. Its basically like getting laid but you don't have to shave anything or waste precious energy.

But when I don't see humans I start to feel like my body is going to explode, so duh, I continue to get dressed, have a couple beers, and drag myself out into the cold.

Heres someone I like to see.
Its fun when we get along really well, but somehow I always end up getting drunk and telling everyone this same anecdote, "ONE TIME IN HIGH SCHOOL ME AND JJ GOT IN A FIGHT IN THE HALL AND WE GOT DETENTION BUT BY THE TIME WE HAD THE DETENTION WE WERE PASSING NOTES, BESTIES ALL OVER AGAIN HAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!!!!!"
And I say it just like that, one long spastic sentence, Kanye caps speak.
Then people fake smile and pretend the story is cute, even though we all know no one gives a shit.

Making idiotic faces is sometimes an indication of insecurity but the way these people love themselves borders on masturbatory.
So its just a lil bit of corn.
A lil corn cobby.
A lil summer salad with corn niblets.
A lil cracking of corn, and no one caring.

Something Conrad cares about?
Playdoh sculpting.
An entire table of adults making playdoh penises and whatnot with a container of this stuff the size of teacandle.
I didn't even know one could produce such a small container of playdoh.
Side note: when I say 'we' were making penises, I mean me. I'm pretty sure everyone else was less of a cliche 14 year old boy in art class during pottery semester.

Then this one showed up and this picture could possibly be the perfect representation of her whole aura.
Bugging.
Piscean women and their deep endless seas of emotion!

Went out again last night, rarr rarr rarr, things happened the way you would expect them to.

Interesting point I would like to make though.

I think hipster 'men' right now are trying to hype the hippie look. Because. I saw a lot of dudes with hair way to close to being dreads. (And I'm not talking Jamaicans I'm talking white boys with pleasantly handsome faces)
Also, they all looked very purposefully haphazard, like they have been traveling across country in a van, picking up random items of attire and bits of appearance flair wherever they stop off.
Well.
I would like to say to these guys.
I hope you drop this trend.
Because it already stinks, and I can't even say its blown up yet.
Please stick to good sneakers and proper fitting jeans.
And if you must wear a hat, please do not specifically chose the goofiest one you can find.
You are not a grandpa yet, so no, you will not be excused and adored for your ridiculousness.
And finally, please take off one accesory before you leave the house.
Coco Chanel knew what she was talking about.
You are not doing a great job.
Also saw a few guys trying to bring this kind of shit back:

New York boys, please stop being Ds.
Stop acting cheesy and rude.
Stop primping like ladies.
Stop acting like women owe you a beej just because you exist.

I'm not that bitter I would just really love to see a social change. I have high hopes, sue me.

So it was a bunch of those dudes, some other guys I've known so long they still call me Hunny Bunny, and weirdo asian guys who were falling asleep literally at the bar.

Sooooo I think I have the right to feel underwhelmed.

But I still love my bishes.

And I love pizza.

And dancing.

At least all of that is always here.

Holler.

If birds could talk theyd talk about yer mom

2009-03-02T22:01:00.006-05:00

So you know the little Notes application in iPhone?
Well, I make notes on the subway about things I want to blog.
Then I get home and realize brainfarts like these don't really flesh out the way I intend:

1. Guys who can braid their beards - where are they cause I wanna date them.
(In reality, all I wrote was BRAIDED BEARDS!?!)
2. The phrase "Gib me spashe" - too annoying to say out loud or hilarious?
3. Mo Willems is amazing.

Wait so actually, I kind of feel like I can use these examples right now.

Seriously about the braided beards, I don't need to explain do I?
Its like if you could take all the extras from Braveheart; dump them into Manhattan; and invite them to a bar around the corner from me, I could literally die happy.
Actually, I might want to change it to braided mustache.
I don't know it doesn't matter either way.
Braid your facial hair.
It works.

"Gib me spashe"...also explains itself.
Is it the right kind of annoying?
I'm not sure yet.
For some reason it reminds me of Martin Short

Ps upon googling Martin Short, I found this gem.

Martin Short. Steve Martin. Play fighting in the tropical sea?
My gayness meter just exploded fairy cum sprinkles everywhere.
And it smells like Drakkar, old lady face lotion and BubbleYum.

So onto Mo Willems.
This guy is the author/illustrator of a lot of really great childrens books that I have read to tons of babes.
They are good for doing voices.
They are funny.
They have little to no creepy sugar coating, which almost all media directed at the young uns have.

My favorite character of his is Pigeon.
Pigeon doesn't wanna share his hot dogs.
He wants to stay up mad late.
He wants to drive the bus around New York.
He's super manipulative and hes a total liar.
Hes an asshole just like actual pigeons.
If you're a parent or a nanny or just a retard who can't read chapter books, get on Mo.
Such a treat.

Abrupt blog end.

That Lady

2009-03-01T07:33:00.002-05:00

Hey guys can I be her?

Because I only wanna wear stretch pants and old tees.
Plus snow boots.
Whether or not a chance of snow is projected.

Lets take a look at my surroundings shall we

I think this is apt is reverting back to the days when it was inhabited by a old nutball named Marjorie. Candle wax all over everything. The smell of cats. Half an avocado and two slices of ham going bad in the warm(ish) fridge.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Afterthought: I may regret joining twitter.

I also may regret ever agreeing to work weekends.

Jung/mammal/new york city/bill clintonesque

2009-02-28T22:26:00.003-05:00

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?

2009-02-27T23:44:00.001-05:00

Fridays never were all that dope

2009-02-27T14:21:00.003-05:00

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

2009-02-26T15:07:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-02-26T06:11:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-02-20T15:12:00.016-05:00

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!

2009-02-13T15:26:00.007-05:00

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"

2009-02-12T07:47:00.021-05:00

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!

2009-02-11T01:26:00.000-05:00

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