Friday, July 29, 2011

Gaudy Bitch: Etsy Is Just a Gay E-Bay

Finally, my vest infatuation has been fed this past week courtesy of! As you may recall, I posted about my desire to acquire meretricious garments so I embarked on a summer long thrifting crusade. Now I like my vests short and small, probably because I like to mirror my dad's look from the 70's. And alas, my search bestowed two groovy vests in my hands:

The first is a custom made studded denim vest, originally from the 80's and embellished with studs and 2 patches:

Due to the tragic quality of my camera, I took a close up of the patches

One says "Icons of Filth" (appropriately so) and the other I initially thought was a swastika, but it's just a fucked up "F." Who put these patches on, Voldemort? Whatever, I dig it.

The next one is a vintage vest from the 80's as well, however it has been splashed with bleach and studded on the shoulders with steel studs. (In case you can't tell, I like studs.) There's also a sewn screenprinted canvas patch on the front with blood red thread:

Alright, so it says Dracula. Very well, I'll walk around with Edward Cullen. Maybe I'll sparkle in the sun. 

The bleach is a nice touch. 


So yeah, Etsy is kinda the best thing since homosexuality. Go check it out! 

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

I'll Just Have an Order of Fries

Overcast Sunday and fittingly so; melancholic breeze, faint scent of recently smoked American Spirits, and the static of an AMC classic (probably A Few Good Men considering they play that more often than Nicki Minaj changes weaves) blaring in the background. How depressingly glorious and not to mention an ample feast for the masochistic soul. Fucking Hemingway shit up in here.

The air tonight is smooth as glass, as opposed to yesterday's thickness that could be sliced with a butcher's knife. Not taking a walk tonight would be a crime of significant amplitude. Not only does it remedy a turbulent mind, but it enriches a sense; a sense I like to stimulate in terms of my unuttered relationship with people. I like to observe. I've got a kaleidoscopic eye on everyone. I like to look at people and take notice. Notice what they're trying to say without opening their mouth.

I walk by an uncouth looking group of kids. Kids who look like they breaststroked through a dumpster, gelled their hair with epoxy adhesive, and substituted their eyeliner with tar. But if you take a closer look, you see much more. It got me thinking, especially since Amy Winehouse's death. Their hair, their tattered clothes, even the meticulous way they hold their Newports...what could their message convey? Do they even have a message?

The echelon of kids, adorned in gender ambiguous haircuts and "street trash" garments come off as nebulous and peculiar at first. I've always noticed the way I style myself correlates to how to the way I was feeling at the time. I found my clothes and style as a sanctuary and escape to the world around me. It's a symbiotic relationship utilized for coping.

Some of these kids have been hurt so bad they push the world so far away just so it won't hurt them again. But we dress like this because the only thing worse than being in pain is being ignored; so we gotta exhibit a look that says "pay attention, but don't get too close." Some go to lengthy measures to guarantee their solitude, either hiding behind a curtain of substance abuse, or blending with the friendly hands of solidarity. Either way, it has to come out somehow.

So thanks to the coterie of kids who made my walk that night sacred. No uncanny rhetoric of mine could do you justice. You did that yourself by just loitering while your identity silently exiled itself through your presence. Thanks for teaching me that I don't need the burger. I'll just have an order of fries.

And that's enough to get me by. 

Saturday, July 23, 2011

July 21st-The Birth of Terror&A Pinch of Fabulosity

Words can't even formulate the gratitude I have for everyone that wished me a happy birthday two days ago. This is a genuine thank you for everyone who took the time out of their day to say something to me via social media, phone call, or in person. This was the most special birthday yet. Some of the messages I saw touched me so much I cried more than a prepubescent 12 year old at a Justin Bieber concert.

But in all seriousness, I write this with a hint of tears and reminiscent discern. Over the past few years I feel like I've carved a space for myself, and the only direction I can go in is up. Everyone is looking for validation and I feel like I got some on my birthday. All of you made this boy feel like a queen and a simple thank you doesn't cut it. So you are all cordially invited to my bed. I'll make you cookies accompanied with an erotic massage.

These are some of the things my dear friends sent me that filled my cold studded heart with warmth:

Even though he's off conquering LA, he never fails to make my day. 
HOW CUTE. Hayley motherfucking Heartbreak herself took the time to doodle this. 

Also, my dear friend from San Fran sent me infamous Psycho Donuts with a matching t-shirts and some fabulous pins. Watch out soon for a post solely dedicated to Psycho Donuts. SO GOOD. 

Also, my appetite for vintage vests has been fed. Look out for a post on these as well, they're too good not to put in the spotlight:

So once again, I thank you all again for making this birthday very special. If you really want my birthday wishes to come true you'll all go crazy together and act like you've secretly wanted to act (and I know you do harbor an inner crazy diva hooker in there somewhere!) and dance like you're not gonna get tagged on Facebook.

But I'm also writing this post on the heels of a few tragedies that need to be mentioned:

First, I want to acknowledge Amy Winehouse's death. I hope she's in peace and rocking out with the arsenal of talent that have been taken from us at the age of 27 as well: Joplin, Hendrix, Morrison, Cobain, Jones, and now Winehouse. I looked up to Amy Winehouse so much. She was fearless in defining beauty for herself and never conformed to society's definition of it. Her bleeding heart fed her genuine art. I'll miss you bitch. RIP.

And also, the tragedies in Norway. I can't even fathom the inhumanity it takes for someone to go out and kill scores of teenagers. I have the families affected by their deaths in my heart. 

Look, death is death. It's tragic and all we can do is help one another out. So before anyone starts mud slinging for paying more attention to one death or another, remember that someone out there is grieving just the same. So keep that in mind and reject any ignorance that you see. We all have to be there for each other. Life is fragile, be thankful that you get to see tomorrow. 

Friday, July 15, 2011

Neville Longbottom: That Is All

Last night I saw the midnight premiere of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2, the last and final installment of the Harry Potter series and OH MY ANDERSON COOPER IT WAS SO SO SO GOOD. As much as it pleased my cinematic g-spot, I was filled with abundant melancholy by virtue of realizing I just watched my childhood disappear along with the end credits.

Watching these kids grow up with me was extraordinary. I mean look at them now:

What an easy-on-the-eye cast.

I'm not going to imbue this post with any spoilers, I'm just going to say that if you haven't seen this movie yet go check it out! Also, can we just go over Neville fucking Longbottom really quickly? What a champ, I'm so proud. I bet he's gonna get a lot of pussy after this movie.

I also want to praise J.K. Rowling's brilliant cerebellum, and the artillery of imagination behind it. Damn! Whoever conjures up such a meticulous yet captivating plot deserves bountiful success and limitless admiration. It's really sad to see it come to an end considering I grew up with these movies. 

As for the whole midnight experience, it wasn't my first one but it was just as fun as the others. Lots of people dressed up with the exception of me who looked like I was one hair extension away from looking like the lead singer of Hanoi Rocks. And of course you have to sell a kidney to buy popcorn and soda. AND a fucking medium soda at the movies was more like UM the size of Cancun. How big is the fucking large then, do they just serve you the Kool Aid man? What a rip off. 

Another thing I want to point out: the previews. All I remember was a plethora of apes, bad make up, and frivolous plot lines. Unless I see Neil Patrick Harris' peen in the Smurf movie (which is doubtful) I won't be going to the movies for a while.

But regardless, please go see the newly released Harry Potter before the Rebecca Black of all movies come out. 

Friday, July 8, 2011

Google+ : Social Media Coup D'├ętat?

Myspace sent me a message a couple months ago asking: where have you been? Well Myspace, the answer is 2011. We all know things come and go. The only activity on Myspace is probably tumbleweed and that one person posting bulletins about how they just went to Taco Bell and now they're going to play copious amounts of Call of Duty while fondling their dog. I can safely assume 5 years ago I was probably editing HTML codes for my teen angst enshrouded page but today I'm tweeting and notoriously terrorizing other social media vistas besides Douchespace.

But here we are, in a phalanx of social media conglomerates such as Twitter and Facebook, comes a faint ripple of a new force called Google+.

Apparently, it's a trinal of Twitter/Facebook/Skype and an invitation is required to participate. What is this, the Royal Wedding? I'm perfectly okay with Twitter and Facebook. They're good for sharing info, events, and networking. Also, from what I've seen, solving the Da Vinchi Code is easier to figure out than navigating Google +. Guess I'm just not a fan of change, but I'm interested to see how this will develop and if it will indeed claim the #1 spot on the social media chart like a lot of people are forecasting. 

But anyway, social media is meant for sharing and spreading, so check out my favorite boys' new music video. I went to their show at the Bowery last week (where they killed it, resurrected it, and killed it again) when this video debuted featuring cameos from many people I hold near and dear to my heart:

Get into it.

Related: New weave stories


Unrelated PSA: I just made the most bangin' jambalaya and no one was even harmed in the process! Although this is the most hot meat I've had in my mouth without being drunk in the backseat of a car. Bon appetite!

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

So I Guess If You Wanna Get Away With Murder, Move To Florida

You can't even fathom the disbelief and animosity I harbored when I found out Casey Anthony was found NOT guilty following the death of her 2 year old daughter Caylee. The evidence surrounding the calamitous case unequivocally supported the fact that Casey was indeed responsible for her daughter's death. Even if it was a mistake, shouldn't have she at least reported it instead of trying to cover it up? This bitch spewed lies upon lies and still got off with an acquittal? I really hope all the toddlers in Florida are hitch hiking out of that state, because apparently murder is legal there. 

Listen, I watch enough Law&Order to legally qualify as a prosecutor and after scrutinizing this case since it's inception, I know Casey Anthony should of at least been charged with manslaughter. The pictures you are about to see were taken while her daughter was missing. Is this seriously what she was doing instead of calling 911?

Also, this was taken right after she got away with murder:


I'll bet you my left tit Casey Anthony is doing body shots off of Nancy Grace as we speak, and there is also a 99% chance Alyssa Milano is already practicing for the Lifetime Original Movie which should be in the works in about 5 seconds.

I'm assuming the amalgamation of lack of evidence and good defense lead to Casey's abominable acquittal. Either way, the dubiety I have in our legal system after this case makes me hope all the jury members get kidney stones the size of Brazil. Innocent until proven guilty? Well, fuck.