Thursday, June 16, 2011


That number in the title is the one to call to ask to vote yes for the Marriage Equality Act. Gay marriage is a breath away from becoming legal in New York and your voice can help tremendously by picking up the phone and asking your senator to vote YES. Even if you DO NOT live in New York, you can still call. Legalizing gay marriage in New York is a step closer to NATIONAL EQUALITY.

The impetus for equality is one our generation needs to strive for. It's the future we are growing into, the future we are responsible for, and the future we contrive for the next generation. If you have a voice, use it. Even if it's one in a million, it aids in harmonizing a chorus preaching for equality.

New York is gay. New York is proud. And I'm honored I get to call it home. The streets of New York City re-birthed me, and I'm happy to be who I am today. They gave me a voice. A voice I will use to insure equality, encourage liberation, and foster the bravery of those who want to be heard.

So please, do what you can. Be heard. Be brave. Let "gay marriage" be just known as "marriage" one day.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Thrifting Crusades

So the latest item on my summer syllabus included terrorizing every thrift store in the tri-state area. I can now conclude that New Jersey had some pretty dismaying results regarding their thrifting inventory:


My fabulous partner-in-crime and I are fortunate enough to be privy to Pennsylvania's best kept secret so we made a day out of it to go see what they had for us. We went to a little town called New Hope that's right on the Delaware River, approximately 25 minutes away from where I live. Out of all the places we've perused, New Hope had the most peculiar and venerable garments, although some on the more pricey side. But if you're looking for retro circa 60's-80's Debbie Harry meets Madonna meets Cheryl Ladd style clothing, than this is the place to be. It's a plethora of chromatic disco hues and big shoulder pads. Lots of yummy see-through and a few articles of clothing that screamed MJ at me. I almost bought a red see-through glittery blazer but could faintly hear my wallet weeping after I looked at the price tag. 

But the kind of stuff I'm looking has a certain motif that I can't seem to find locally:

We're on a mission that could probably only be satisfied by coup de etating Judas Priest's closet more than New Jersey's thrifting scene. And let's be honest, we'll probably end up at Michael's for some arts n' crafts fun. 

So up next: Brooklyn! 

Will hopefully report back with some fabulous fashion!

Thursday, June 9, 2011


As an ex-comic book nerd, I would flip through the pages of my brother's X-Men collection all day long, falling in love with the characters and alluring fantasy. This comic really invigorated my imagination growing up. The imagery and uniqueness these characters embodied triggered a dormant side of me that was aching to come out, fueled by fantasy and imagination. I like to think Stan Lee takes some credit for the look I conjure every morning. Anyway, I recently saw X-Men: First Class a couple days ago with my brother and absolutely loved it.

I don't really go to the movies, considering you have to sell your first born for a ticket nowadays. And the fact that popcorn costs more than my rent turns me off. But I had to for X-Men. With the exception of a few loud people next to me (and I couldn't shut them up. My ball gag was too big for their heads :( ) my experience thoroughly pleased my cinematic g-spot.

As much as X-Men is an action/adventure/drama, it showcases many social/political issues our society faces today. It's abundantly clear that society perpetuates a certain image to its members and in response, X-Men: First Class permeates a message regarding differences crossing cultural and social borders. As outcasts, social anomalies, and outliers of society, these mutants are ridiculed because they don't fit into the bevy of the norm. They have been classified as "homosuperior" because of their uncanny abilities to do certain things like telepathy, telekinesis, shape shifting, teleportation, etc, which are sometimes matched with physical characteristics that set them apart from homosapiens, making them feared and misunderstood.

Mystique invariably hints throughout the film that her natural physical form (as seen above) prevents her from accepting who she is. Her blood red hair, yellow piercing eyes, and blue scale covered skin unequivocally make her stand out. However, her mutant gene allows her to shape shift into any physical form she desires. She disguises herself as a white blonde girl with curly hair, an image that society obviously favors the most and hankers to make more ubiquitous in physical appearance.

Hank tells Mystique that people will only accept her as a white girl with blonde hair and not the way she was born, covered in blue scales. Her yearning to be "normal" drives her temptation to inject an experimental drug that will make her "human" state permanent. However, she discovers that she will have to fight for her identity and that society will have to adapt to her, and not the other way around.

Although someone who feels unaccepted may not have blue scales, claws coming out of their fists, or look like the Hulk (although you may never know!), they are still fighting the same battle for equality and acceptance that these mutants are fighting for. The message delivered by the movies and comics, nourished with ample amounts of fantasy, is powerful and a sanctuary for many kids who feel misunderstood.



Sunday, June 5, 2011

Family Function A La Short Story

It's so early Jesus isn't even awake yet. Saturday morning. Everyone in this house knows it's a cardinal rule not to talk to me before my morning coffee. Walking alone through Detroit at 2 AM is safer than talking to me before my big ol' jug of Folgers.

It's the day of my cousin's graduation. And by that I mean my family congregates and interrogate me on my life in New York and why my hair looks like something out of a Studio 54 exhibit at the MoMa. I have a churning knot in my stomach. I come downstairs, unkempt and marathon sneezing (thanks for nothing, Claritin), aching to pour myself a cup of coffee. My dad, already in his chipper Sunday alacrity is lurking nearby, waiting to fire out his one-liners like a revolver.  I was not having it.

"Could you dress down today, everyone from the family will be there," roared my mother upstairs who was batting her eyelashes into her knock-off TJ Maxx Elizabethan gold framed mirror. I scowl with a hint of acquiesce but dismiss the thought as fast as it came in. About to pour the caffeinated elixir into my cup my dad goes, "You know how people my age get kidney stones?" "Why, padre?" "Because we listen to a lot of Rolling Stones." BOOM. Shot of Bailey's into my coffee. It was going to be a long day.

I hear my brother upstairs mutilating a Portishead record with effervescent abandon by virtue of impromptu karaoke. I already forecast he's throwing on some khakis and a plaid shirt, which is to be followed by making fun of whatever I was going to wear. Typical. There was no way I could allow myself to fit in with the bevy of kin getting together later.

My dad comes by and sits in a rocker that looked about as old as Grandmother Willow. I sip my coffee in silence as my dad hums along to the radio. I watch him sit there with his green eyes ablaze, looking like a cobra ready to attack. I sit there, just bearing and getting ready for whatever was going to come through his mouth. I move my pawn first.

"Do you have your comedic material ready for today?" I cooed, over the faint sound of a Springsteen record as the steam of the coffee lifts past my face. "There are two new baby groundhogs in the yard," he starts. Brace yourselves. "I named them Johnnie and Walker!" Ok. IVs of Svedka. Up and down my arm. Let's go.

My brother comes downstairs at a glacial pace, looks at me and goes "what is up with your hair today?" The same thing that's up with it every fucking day. "I'm a unicorn. And if you ask me that again, I'm going to harpoon you in the gallbladder. I made you a nice fresh cup of coffee," I replied with a smile faker than Cher's weave.

Ready to depart to be tortured unmercilessly the family function, my dad pulls me aside and said something that changed the day a 180 degrees.

"No guts, no glory. I'm proud of how strong you are."

My dad used to tell me that on a daily basis when I was younger. I used to hate that phrase. Maybe it's because of the word "guts." But now I'm thankful he carved that phrase into my brain because it's the mantra I exude.

So thanks, dad. Even though you're cheesy as shit, you're a class act.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


Summer is a felicitous time to roll your windows down, blare your beloved tunes, and drive around with your friends leaving a trail of ruckus wherever you go. I've consolidated with my iTunes and collated a season appropriate music binge to listen to while driving, partying, and/or to pussy pop around the house in the nude while your neighbor watches. Remember: don't dance like no one is watching, dance like you're getting tipped.

Anyway, here's an array of songs that find themselves accompanying me on my string of summer debauchery:

Always match your melodies. 

11. Born This Way (The whole album, duh) -Lady GaGa
Considering this album was released just in time for summer, I'm going to be making violent love to it all season long. Straight up pillow talk, tossing it around the sheets, cuddling, having a cigarette, then doing it all over again. 

Jams like these highlight the motifs of my summer activities. Past songs like "Alejandro" and "Summerboy" suffice as well and never fail to get old. 

10. "Saturday Night"-Bay City Rollers
Good times:

9. "Pour Some Sugar On Me"-Def Leppard
Every time I rock out to Def Leppard I'm pretty sure I feel my jeans acid wash and tight roll themselves. But still, this is one of my all time favorites. 

8. "Get Me Bodied"-Beyonce 
Girl, please.

7. "Rebel Rebel"- David Bowie
One of my favorite drinking songs:

6. "I Wanna Dance With Somebody"-Whitney Houston
This is indicative of my emotional status as a middle school girl. 

5. "Pussy Control"-Prince
This speaks for itself. 

4. "I Hate Myself For Loving You"-Joan Jett
Because for some reason, summer entails listening to your heart and ignoring your brain completely: 

Thank God for Joan Jett.

3. "Price Tag"-Jessie J
Just an all around feel good jam.

2. "Dead End Justice"- The Runaways
The Runaways always top my summer playlist. Nothing makes me feel more like a badass than these bitches. 

(This photoshoot from last summer was actually inspired by The Runaways, Studio 54, and James Dean)

1. "Bennie and the Jets"- Elton John
This is song means so much to me just because it reminds me of being young and running around carelessly while my dad blasted this. And it's still one of my favorite songs.

So make yourself a playlist. Make some mistakes and have fun.

UNRELATED: I just saw my neighbor naked. I'm putting up a "for sale" sign on my lawn as I edit this post.