Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Swedish F[et]ish

I think it needs to be brought to attention that all the best things are Swedish. I arrived at this conclusion yesterday while galavanting through the divine, enticing and ümlaut congested aisles of Ikea with my girlfrans in Brooklyn. Although the names of each piece of furniture sound like baby food, we could not stop molesting every single thing that looked like Grace Jones wore it back in the 80s. Basically, our apartment will be satiated with celestial effulgence bestowed by Ikea, making our place look like the Jetsons meets Showgirls. 


So of the FOUR Swedish things that we are blessed with Ikea is one of them. Also, their food is ambrosial ecstasy. And CHEAP. A college student's wet dream. So after you're done gorging on swedish meatballs most likely made by Jesus himself, you can go gawk and refrain from buying everything in the store. 


So:


4. IKEA


Heaven

3. H&M


This Swedish retail clothing store is a fun place to shop. And very gay! Hoorah rejoice LGBT community! Its a great place for hip and fun fashion and they have fucking awesome sales that makes anyone with pockets about as a deep as a kiddie pool revel and celebrate. I know I salivate every time I see the massive 75% off posters embellishing the store. 

2. SWEDISH FISH


Delicious and caloric. And colorful! Numnumnum.

1. Alexander Skarsgård


Need I say more? Sweden doesn't have a huge population but for them give us this radiating hunk of Swedish man meat is more than enough. Praise Baby J. This True Blood star is also a writer and director. Multi-faceted and yummy!

So 4 for you Sweden! You go Sweden. And none for North Korea. 

Monday, January 24, 2011

Looking Like Your Hair Snorted Andy Warhol For Breakfast: Fabulous

A recent trend I'm seeing in le popular cunture is the return (or should I say mainstream resurrection) of comic book/ Andy Warhol-esque hair color.

...And I'm all about it. If you look like you shampooed your hair with a Marvel comic book, I praise you. None of that 90's dark undertone low-lighting that make people look like a fucking Oreo vomited in their hair. GregMania to the No.

 My favorite is the pop art/Andy Warhol blonde:


In an ocean of pure, anti-brass, LA pornstar white, going electroblonde yellow seems like the antithetical direction on the blonde spectrum to travel in. I love unexpected color decisions that no one would guess to put in their hair:

Queer Queen Cyndi Lauper

I remember being 9 and seeing pictures of Cyndi decked out in yellow hair and I begged my mother to aggregate my luscious locks with this technicolor glamour fabulosity so I could emulate her. 

Now fast forward to 2009 where GaGa decided to hop on the glow train by incorporating yellow hair into her wig inventory:

Warhol electroblonde, baby. 

Later in the year, Gags started sporting Yoko Ono inspired gray hair followed by a mainstream trend of unexpected color choices. Katy Perry has the dark blue Wonder Woman-esque hair and Nicki Minaj looks like a pack of skittles fornicated with her wigs. 

Thusly, a myriad of pin-up art and pop galore hair color is cascading its way to the red carpet and is offsetting a trend of this incandescent splendor. 

School spirit is usually depicted through follicle expression

My next follicle endeavor after I bleach my hair for the nth time will be this on the front of my hair where it looks like I combed it with a grenade:

Pink and Gray!

I'm pretty sure my hair is more damaged than the Titanic at this point but I'm a proud hair color addict and manic panic is my dealer. 

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Back In The New York Groove

Holy Cher it was cold in New York Motherfucking City upon my arrival in the deplorable Penn Station yesterday en route to Hookerstra University. Well, the coldness was accentuated for the sake of me being the most impractical dresser of all time. Sorry Kanye, but you can't argue this. I never abide by the forecast. OOPS is Miss Trunchbull going to put me in the chokey now?

It was really surreal coming back considering I haven't been here since Sarah Palin said something intelligent, but it was sure a warm welcome back. I wasn't even here for an hour and I was already laughing to the point of tears cascading down my rosy cheeks. And I really missed the Long Island "look! a homosexual out in the wild!" gawk I get from people who scrutinize me sauntering over to a table dressed like I just got expelled from Hogwarts the burlesque version.

First purchase I made when coming back. Yep.

Very integral items for those mornings when you feel like Rosie O'Donnell circa 1996 sat on your face. 

I've also been going through a jewelry/bling juncture recently, especially with categorical and premeditated themes and imagery:


The necklace above was designed by my future ex-husband, otherwise known as Justin Tranter of glam rock band Semi Precious Weapons who is blessed with owning his own jewelry line Fetty centered in Brooklyn. It is a heart with a pistol and other versions of this necklace also have: saws, daggers,hammers, and axes. Nothing like a little masochistic rough love draping from your neck. Filthy glamorous and it's contagious! 


Classes don't start till Wednesday and I'm sure we'll have lots of material to cover before then, nuggets. 

Sunday, January 16, 2011

...Is Now In A Relationship With Duane Reade and NJ Transit

Happy MLKeg Day!

I'll be back in the New York groove for a day or two and will return permanently on Saturday. My best friend is moving from Puerto Rico to bloody,bloody 83rd street! In a year, a dream conceived from a pure ineffable inkling has made a unfathomable trajectory towards reality. With a few magical people in my life, a pack of gum in my pocket, and a dream, the year of twentybones looks like a extraordinary and supreme year.

I'm sure I'll have oodles of incentives for more offensive blog antics. My prognosis is definitely tearing NJ Transit a new one because of their sky high ticket prices. I mean, Jesus Horatio Christ. I'm going to have to apply for a layaway to pay for a fucking trip to Secaucus even though I contract H1N1 just from looking at that city.

ANYWAY. Pictures and inappropriate day wear to come.

Viva La Bad Kids!

...Now taking donations to the GregMania Liver Transplant Fund. 

Sunday, January 9, 2011

You Happy Now, Sarah?

On a serious note, I want to address what happened yesterday when Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords was shot. Its been irking me.

The attempted assassination of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords of Arizona yesterday affirms that messages of violence and threats should not alloy themselves with today's age of political discourse. Although the definition can seem watered down, misinterpreted, or ambiguous, motifs of guns,violence,and threats don't fit into the kaleidoscope of democracy.

As almost everyone knows, Sarah Palin and her team put up this picture on her website yesterday morning and proceeded to remove it after the attempted assassination occurred:

Notice anyone familiar listed?

My prayers and thoughts are with the Giffords family and the tragedy they had to endure. Politicians and citizens that scatter all over the spectrum are in an age where political targeting of opponents and evoking adjacent opinions have become a norm and a step up in the art that is political mudslinging . Exhibit A in the picture above.

If anything, its extremely imperative that we don't seek revenge, but justice. We shouldn't pursue payback on Sarah Palin or any politician/commentator who are illustrating a contentious political environment and a form of domestic terrorism. 

If Sarah Palin doesn't admit her role in augmenting violent imagery by posting that picture which bulls eyes 20 Representatives in an efforts of gaining an advancement towards becoming elected, she should be dismissed. 

And God help us if she becomes elected. I will move to Bosnia. 

So Sarah, please do us a favor and stay out of the Oval Office. And stay with the moose. 



Prayers+thoughts are with Congresswoman Giffords' family.


Saturday, January 8, 2011

State of Emergency-We have Snow Accumulation Up To .0000001 Inch. CLOSE YO SHIT DOWN

About a week ago, I was snowed in my abode and decided to sit down and pay homage to my childhood by tuning into The Price is Right. It was right after Christmas when the whole Northeast got about a foot or two of cockblock. The program was abruptly interrupted by news coverage of the snow.

The street in front of my house in Jersey. Where yo at, Rudolph?

WHAT THE TITS. I was waiting to see if some bitch was going to win the delectable communist-like- Steve Madden-esque heels that were up for grabs.

Now a week later, I'm sitting in the same place watching more Jesus dandruff get deposited onto my driveway. And one thing I've noticed this year is how snow coverage has become the irrefutable zeitgeist of news coverage lately.

ABC News had 8+ Hours of LIVE News Coverage of the Snow Storm.

Why has the magnitude of a snow storm transformed into DEFCON 5? Last time I checked, it occasionally snows in the winter.

So while bombs are being dropped, people dying, and other worldly events that are more worthy than spectating Mother Nature's secretions,  we have ludicrous slew of snow coverage just because our roads are too blanketed to go buy pumpernickel at Wegmans. Sure, if you really want pumpernickel it'll take you longer to get there than swimming in caramel, but its not the end of the world. Call Chuck Norris.

The only thing I'm not going to bitch about is Liz Cho on ABC News. DIVA. Always lookin' glamulous.

The next day I watched the press conference Mayor Bloomberg gave about the lack of plowing in the city. Now, I completely understand the caliber of broadcasting this seeing as how many people are affected. Hell, I need to hold a press conference the day after I drink.

Of course, he mentioned the efforts the city was taking to clear out the snow and what not. However, the most logical conclusion he arrived at was:

"Things like this happen. And we will probably get more storms like this in the future."




And I never got to see if Suzy Homemaker won the faboosh heels.

So, if you're snowed in... Relax! Drink a jug of warm milk, pop in a DVD. Watch your favorite episode of Cheers. Life will resume in a day or two.

Enjoy your snow day(s) and lack of human contact!

Friday, January 7, 2011

I'm Going To Have To Sell My First Born Child To Buy Textbooks

Can you say 401 K rape?

Why must I value my education? Someone in Tokyo could hear my consumer heart break into tiny little shards when my finger bull dozed over the mouse to check out my purchases on Amazon last night. There is really no point in this post except to vent about how expensive it is to be a student. Yes, its life. But why not make a blog post and make it fabulous and offensive?

This is the type of textbook I use after 5 pm.

So while I sit here writing this FaBlog, my debit card is getting it royally like Kim Kardashian in front of a tripod. There goes the rest of my summer job money waiting tables on the finicky and genteel modern day Victorian clients of Princeton who order a wild organic Arugula Salad, glass of Castellar Brut, and tip like a fucking peasant . Such is life! I'm not going to say I want to blow Donald Trump...

...unless it gets me those. Just kidding, I would never. Allegedly. I cherish the entire experience. I want to be working at 5 Starbucks, residing in an apartment that is the size of an Ugg boot, and living with more people than Kate Gosselin can pop out. I want to be so poor the only thing I can afford is a Metrocard and hairspray. Good memories and good friends are priceless especially if you're a pauper. 

So my darling little nuggets, if you're a student and you're paying exorbitant amounts of money to stimulate your academic blood flow, you better be reading your damn books. 

And if you're not a student and reading this: hire me. I'll scrub your fucking toilets and work my way to the top. 

<3

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Hey! Wait I Could of Sworn I Heard That Chorus in '87...

Driving back home on 95 from my shopping extravaganza for impractical clothing, I heard the first couple chords of Stand By Me come on the radio. I was just about to channel my Patti LuPone vocals and belt that shit like I was headlining Madison Square Garden.

PAUZ.

Expecting to hear the alleviating and mollifying voice of Ben E. King permeate through my '02 Civic's older than God's grandmother sound system, I was prepping myself like an Olympic runner at a 100 yard dash waiting to hear the shot of the pistol. I had my diva hand up and all, bent at the appropriate acute angle at the wrist.

Alas, it wasn't the 1961 version of Stand By Me, it was Sean Kingston's single Beautiful Girls from 2007.

What my face looked like more or less.

Switching to another radio station I also heard Jason Derulo...excuse me, Jason Deeeerulooooo's Whatcha Say which substitutes features Imogen Heap's song Hide and Seek as the chorus. 

Many artists have been substituting melodies and choruses from previous hits into their own songs just to get a #1 on the charts. They recycle melodies such as Sean Kingston's intro to Beautiful Girls or substitute a chorus with a previous hit like Jason Deeeeruloooo. 

Origins of this trend can be accredited to P. Diddy (is that what he's calling himself this week?) who took segments from older songs and rapped over them. Its kinda cool but now that everyone has discovered the magical elixir of getting a #1 on the Hot 100, its really starting to decay an artists' creative backbone and intestinal fortitude. 

I think its a lazy tactic on part of the artist and their production team. They take a previous hit, put it in the song, give it a fancy beat, spat out some witty lyrics and they shoot right up on the charts. In terms of popular culture, it's constantly evolving, becoming more sonically innovative, and changing our media culture everyday. I really wish this trend of recycling previous hits as an excuse to get #1s would simmer down for a bit.

Sit in the studio longer, listen to your team, and generate another hit! Shit, hire me I'll write you a song. I have so many Merlot-stained hits under my bed I can give you. There  are many melodies, lyrics, choruses to be unearthed that have the potential to be bigger hits than the ones you're contemplating throwing in there to call it a day so you can make happy hour.  

Just a thought. :)

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Call Me a God Damn Hipster Again And I'm Going to Run Over Your Face With a Zamboni

Any name or label you identify yourself with is false--the real you is unbounded and nameless, beyond all labels. –Deepack Chopra


Thanks, Deepy Poo. I couldn't agree more with this man's wisdom. (Follow him: HERE I promise his twats are good fuel to invigorate your day with a positive 'tude.) 


Another reason for me conceiving this blog is to voice my opinions on things that have been plaguing my mind for quite sometime. Lately I've been thinking a lot about labels. With the rise of hipsters, scenesters, and a flood of other labels stemming from these stereotypes, its always been a realm one can't ignore one way or another. 


Goth, artsy, emo, rocker, stoner, punks, and loners are all categories that are formulated circa high school. Everyone looks for a group to identify themselves with, and continue to do so beyond the nonsense that is Satan's ballsack high school. Now, people find themselves associating themselves with a certain label, creating a new one, or perturbing someone in another category.


Now, once a while I look like I got scraped off the streets of Williamsburg when I get dressed. But hipsters weren't the first to wear combat boots nor beanies. Labels derive from two branches: physical characteristics and/or an intrinsic attitude/set of beliefs. Sometimes I do dress and can fit the profile of a hipster, but I don't suck Kurt Vonnegut's dick or listen to music that doesn't exist yet by some obscure band called the Kiosk Banshees. However, when someone is ignorant and judges or refuses to hang out with someone due to their "type of crowd," it is that type of douchery I can't deal with. 


Most of the time when I get dressed I like to look like a heroin addict. I'm inspired by tragic people, rock n' roll,  and my idols. Pants scare me and I'd like to wear less of them, but I like to refrain from giving my parents heart palpitations. I do sometimes like certain "typical hipster fashion" too. I'm not trying to attack any sort of label at all, I'm just trying to somehow group my thoughts into some sort of organized clusterfuck so thank you if you've read this far. <3


 I GUESS, what it all boils down too, and the point that I'm trying to make is simply the idea that is embedded at the beginning of this post in the font that is large enough to have it's own zip code. YOU know who YOU are and don't let anyone else put you down. If you know you know who you are, there is not a label that defines you. You can kid everyone else, just don't kid yourself. There isn't another Greg Mania and I'm not another Kurt Cobain. You know who you are, be proud of that and even if people are ignorant or judge you, they can go make out with barbed wire. If you like what you're doing at the end of the day and you like who are you, fuck the rest.




BE HAPPEH.











Sunday, January 2, 2011

Inception, Who?

BLACK SWAN=HUBBA HUBBA

I haven't been this captivated by a film in a long time. Black Swan, starring Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis,   and Vincent Cassel, left me mind-fucked, amazed, disgusted, confused, and entranced at the same time. I finally felt that paying for a movie ticket which rapes my bank account in the teeth everytime, and I'm going have to put a loan out to see a movie soon, was justified. My jaw dropped all the way to Brazil after I saw this film directed by Darren Aronofsky (Requiem For A Dream). 









Watch the trailer above!

I could honestly say I could not find a film in a while that has left me stupefied like Black Swan. Yeah, yeah, yeah Inception bippity boppity boo. I'm not saying it was a bad film, I'm just not adhering to the whole hype about it. AND there were no nude shots of Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Disappointed. But that's beside the point. I guess you can say I was looking for a psychological thriller that made my pants hurt (Natalie+Mila sex scene HAY) and could stir up a variety of emotions upon leaving the theater. I'm also a tad bias because I could not control myself during the final sequences where Natalie's character is finally able to harness her "darker side" and exhibits a fierce array of make-up.

Yours truly sporting the look above. Make-up by my biffle Talia Tucker

Now I'm a sucker for glamour, and I love the dramatic look Natalie sports. Anytime someone looks like Edward Scissorhands did their make-up (in a good way, not the traditional native of Long Island shopping at Too Cute way), I will probably love it. Props to Natalie, shit girl, your foutette's, porta bras, and jetes were none other than remarkable for someone who has only done a year of classical ballet training! If Natalie doesn't win some sort of award for her stupendous/flawless performance, I will slap a priest.

My favorite element of this film was the cinematography, especially in the last scene. Go figure. The rapid shots coordinated with the score , powerful lighting, theatrical components, and a plethora of anxiety oozing from each shot made was enough to make my cinematic heart go into cardiac arrest. I just love a good tragedy and if its shot right, amen. #Masochist

So I highly recommend you get your badonkadonk to a theater near you or head to Limewire  and see Black Swan and let me know how you like it. I promise if anything, you will be entertained.