Tuesday, September 10, 2013

LEAKED: Latest Apple iPhone Features

New information regarding upcoming iPhone models have surfaced on the web today. Check out the details below:

Apple prepares to unveil the new iPhone 5S (S=Syria), iPhone 5C (C=Cyrus), iPhone SMH, and iPhone y=mx+b.

Each new model offers exponentially improved features and a complimentary sense of self-righteousness! For example: the iPhone 5C is better at douching than the iPhone 5 (read as: BASIC-ASS MODEL.) Siri's voice on the iPhone 5S is replaced with Morgan Freeman's. Under general settings, you can change the voice option of your iPhone 5C to the sounds of lower class people sighing.

BONUS FEATURE (for iPhone y=mx+b ONLY): These new iPhones are actually TRANSFORMERS! Just have you and your friends load Candy Crush Saga on your iPhones, put your phones next to each other, and watch your iPhones come together to form one big lonely adult!!!

New apps include: Bindr (locates nearest available binders near you ;)))), ChristPee (notifies you when to take a bathroom break during a baptism), DoucheSquare (check in at your local Ed Hardy retail store here!), and ShaBane (this detects what Bane from The Dark Knight Rises is saying and translates it into something comprehendible for the user to understand.)

Prices for upcoming models are as follows:

iPhone 5S (gluten-free): $325+tax
iPhone 5C (may contain nuts): $350+a copy of your school ID picture from your senior year of high school
iPhone SMH: $375+a coat made out of someone who failed their GEDs
iPhone y=mx+b: A shard of JonBenét Ramsey's beauty pageant tiara

Colors include: Off-white, white, Texas church bake sale-white, red, green, yellow, and Pumpkin Spice Latte.

DISCLAIMER: Must purchase newest version of iPhone within 10 minutes of release or your current iPhone will turn into a RAZR and post pictures of the posters you hung above your bed in junior high on the internet. 

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

America's Obituary

At the enfeebled age of 237, our beloved America has passed away at the mere thought of the content broadcasted by MTV becoming culturally relevant. Arriving in a limbo of misguided cultural appropriation, inappropriate cultural stigmata, and more gratuitous usage of the word "culture," our dearest U.S. of Austin Mahone has officially perished once the Oxford English Dictionary recognized "twerk" as an official entry/Kid Rock won't stop asking us to smell his fingers.

America grew up a young fledgling, abruptly penetrated by white people seeking prosperity/killing brown people. Ushering in an age of independence, America quickly recognized its influence by FUCKING OTHER PEOPLE'S SHIT UP/TAYLOR SWIFT.

America enjoyed a plethora of hobbies including: war, Dannon Activia®, freedom, pilates, Suze Orman, The Verve's "Bittersweet Symphony," Tumblr, CNN, Miley Cyrus' thigh gap/hypotenuse, "Whose Line Is It Anyway?", cops, Ryan Seacrest, Sweet Home Alabama, PornHub.com, the name "Todd," nationalism, Pandora (online radio/'s Box), and Choco Tacos.

America's unfortunate downfall was documented to have started when MTV stopped airing music videos and became a camera left on a trailer home. Her industries became a self-perpetuating machine fanning the flames of gossip and competition between ARTISTS and OTHER ARTISTS and THE VERVE'S "BITTERSWEET SYMPHONY" (which was rumored to become the new national anthem subsequent to Cruel Intentions' release in 1999).

We like to think America has moved on to a better place, and doing what she loves most: listening to "Bittersweet Symphony," watching HSN (DON'T WORRY SUZANNE SOMERS WE'LL ALWAYS LOVE YOU AND YOUR HORMONE CREAMS ARE THESE ON SALE THIS WEEK), and reading Buzzfeed.com.

P.S. In other news, we heard Ben Affleck was cast as "Syria." CRAZY, right?!?!

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Celebrity Search Histories

A list of celebrities' search histories has surfaced on the web! Here is an excerpt of what has leaked:


how do i grow a prolific kumquat tree in my hair


how do i tell my friends I sleep in a closet
"Sandstorm" mp3 download
will the internet explode if i call someone pretty
where do dreams go to die
etsy hope in a jar




How do i make my hair smell like a malibu baybreeze
is latitude a cute name for a baby
webmd diagnosis do i have NSA? :(
what if my husband is lying to me about his race


ruby tuesday's specials on Friday
define prick
2 for 20
what happens if a twink isn't sucking a lollipop in a gay porn?!?!
paula deen


DIY hexes
is the blair witch subletting a room
images children sulking
is there a portal behind zooey deschanel's bangs

Tuesday, August 13, 2013


You're feeling unsure about whether you should pursue career opportunities or romantic possibilities. Do neither. Read "Madame Bovary" and do some RatchetSauce. It's this new drug that ALL the kids are doing (2 tsp Codeine, 1 tsp bath salts, 1/2 tsp of Selsun Blue, and 1 lbs of Olive Garden Endless Breadsticks®. Mix well. Serve at room temperature). Cry furiously into your less-than-impressive Chia Pet and watch An Inconvenient Truth. What is your inconvenient truth? Mine is youth.

Feeling uncertain about making the right decision? Questioning if your life is going in the right direction? Can you believe it's not butter? Do not lose sleep over thoughts that overwhelm you such as wondering if you can pay your rent this month, if your relationship is stable, and what Narnia's stance on gay marriage is.

A cancer will fall in love with you and you will break their heart resulting in a very bitter cancer, BUT IT'S OKAY BECAUSE HIS BITTERNESS IS HIS TICKET TO COMEDIC NOTORIETY ON THE INTERNET SO IT'S FINE FOR F/W 2013.  

Oh, those summer nights! You've got a tough road ahead of you, cancer. Be wary of meeting Javier from OkCupid.com because he's into butt stuff. But so are you, you dirty slut!!!! He'll TOTALLY let you jerk him off with your tears. Do not be scared to try new things!

Passionate leo, beware, for the stars are out to FUCK YOU UP. You will walk into White House|Black Market and because your name isn't "Vivian", you will be rolled up in an oriental rug and thrown into an estuary. If your name is Vivian, then you will receive a complimentary tote and something saucy from the latest fall collection sure to invigorate those dormant man-juices your husband has been anxiously awaiting to discharge like a broken fire hydrant in Brooklyn during the summer.

Well, well, well you hot-headed little virgin you! Do YOU think you got what it takes to be America's Next Top Prude? Because MAYBE you do! Stop saying things like "gosh," "darn," and "pass the Gardisil!!!" because we're judging you in our heads.

You're feeling FIRED UP this month, Libra! Dip your hair in blood and write WHO CARES? on the University of Phoenix's office windows as soon as you find out which gas station it's behind, because RIGHT???

You like to make progress, particularly in your professional life. Be sure to write an exceptional cover letter and refrain from ending sentences in prepositions because your future employer is a total grammar nit-picker Jew-empress. Question your decisions and thoroughly think through ALL your options before executing your final choice. Review modifying clauses and splitting infinitives.

Be sure to spend lots of time with loved ones in the next two weeks. Have your family over and offer them some wine such as Pinot Grigio, Chardonnay, or Denny's Grand Slamvignon.

Do whatever Suze Orman says.

You are feeling DEMANDING! Sheesh! You will find yourself standing outside your favorite One Direction member's house yelling yourself hoarse until they agree to take you out for 2 for $20 at Applebee's. Do NOT order the fajitas. You will find $10 on the ground outside on the parking lot. If you ordered the fajitas (after I specifically told you NOT too, you rebellious, dirty, probably-cried-during-the-critical reading-portion-of-the-SATs, Aquarius, you), then use the $10 to treat yourself to a colonic.

Things are going to be a roller coaster for you in the next few weeks, Pisces. Stand your ground! Tell Mr. Clean that you will NOT smell his fingers anymore. But be prepared to get in trouble! You will be fined $5,000 and a piece of your 401K will be shredded for breathing too heavily on the scones at Williams-Sonoma. You will get kicked out of a Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert for taking too much NyQuil and maiming a fog machine. Ugh! You mess!

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Unemployment for S/S 2013

The calamity of post-grad life has yielded many new opportunities and anxieties. While I'm anxiously awaiting my return to NYC, I've been keeping busy with a myriad of projects such as contributing to Creem Magazine, continuing my freelance work and of course designing a plethora of fashion disasters that I can't wait to debut! Oh, and I've embarked on a new endeavor as I continue to make a mark on the selfie generation...

But first
As some of you may or may not know, I'm writing a book called "BORN TO BE PUBLIC." "BORN TO BE PUBLIC" (BORN TO BE PUBLIC all capitalized because I never know when to capitalize the TO or BE or NEITHER in BORN TO BE PUBLIC due to various conflicting grammar rules I've perused in various reputable style manuals such as the THE CHICAGO MANUAL OF STYLE and WEBMD.COM) is a compilation of comedic tales about my journey through NYC nightlife in the digital age. Although still in the early stages of buffering, BoRn tO bE PuBliC maintains academic discipline but seeks to enlighten (inspire) and entertain (entertain) while seamlessly juxtaposing the raunchy humor my readers are accustomed to reading. With chapters like "Our Lady of False Eyelashes," "The Gay Syllabus," and even the title of this blog post; I hope when the time comes you'll have as much fun reading it as I am having writing it.

P.S- If you're a representative for Random House/Penguin Group/any other publishing conglomerate, I promise I can present myself with restraint and grace (but still a FIRM proponent of bribery) and will relentlessly work hard to deliver you a best seller.

Also, hire me. (I heard there's a muffin basket involved ;)))))))

Greg "Overdraft" Mania

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Episode V: The Empress of Swag Strikes Back

Le Cabaret De Mania repeat offender Brittany Campbell graces this blog yet again, this time with a teaser for her infectious new single's music video which debuts later this month. Produced by internationally acclaimed DJ/producer Kazuhiko Gomi and the Sovereign of Swag herself, "House of Glass" flourishes with Brittany's notoriously catchy melodies and impressive vocals that will be sonic Redbull for dance floors contaminated by overwhelmingly frivolous Top 40 tunes.

As you may or may not know, I've been writing and generally fangirling for Brittany for about a year now. From her artist bio to a write-up of her live performance at Tammany Hall last year, I'm thrilled to present the teaser for her upcoming music video. It's exciting for me to see the artists I adore and write for grow; and from the looks of the teaser, I'm elated to see Brittany pushing her creative boundaries and collaborating with a bevy of fabulous (and easy-on-the-eye) ((call me)) (((I'm serious))) cohorts.

The Mia Monee directed clip also features pro NYC skaters Piro Sierra and Luis Tolentino. Choreographed by Jordan Fife Hunt, the electrifying and vibrant new clip showcases Brittany's uncanny art direction which pays homage to NYC's creative urban landscape.

UPDATE: Check out the music video for "House of Glass" below!

Thursday, June 27, 2013

Saturn 2.0

My latest creative endeavor is a Kubrick 2001 meets Mugler inspired hat, or as I like to call it, "the sunroof hat." The crownless hat was custom-made to fit my head subsequent to multiple failures at attempting to alter cheap sun hats from Chinatown. Due to the altitudinous nature of my hair, I wanted a brim to orbit my head while my locks towered above. I call the look depicted below: "don't talk to me before my coffee. And I don't drink coffee."

The look above says to me "alt mod executive cosmic glamour" OR "stepmother who got your dad's PIN number on the first date."

I'm blessed to have Elizabeth Goodrich and Vianney Vega, my two amazing creative partner-in-crimes, to help make this vision into a reality.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Dear Modern Art,

...Suck my homemade breadstick.

Now now, before you send me hate-fueled retorts let me explain. This is not targeting the entire modern art community, just a few observations I've made. I'm merely defending dedicated artists whose works are being upstaged by frivolous pieces priced at exorbitant costs. And before you give me that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" mumbo jumbo let me go into detail. This past weekend, my brother submitted his illustration to New Jersey's beloved and acclaimed yearly event "Art All Night," which takes place in the state's capital. This free event gives artists the opportunity to showcase their work during a 24-hour long event filled with music, food, and fun activities.

Artists submitting work price their piece at whatever value they choose. My brother made the conscious decision to not sell his work but rather donate it for peoples' visual enjoyment. Because it wasn't for sale, his illustration was displayed maybe an inch away from the floor, completely out of everyones' optical focal point.

And here comes my beef with some modern art. As long as you can corroborate your piece with some cryptic bullshit, it's classified as "abstract art." Oooooooh, this conveys the ambiguity of human nature towards towards cultural metanarratives and society's oppression of... BLAH BLAH BLAH and then it's this revered oeuvre. Really? Because what I'm looking at looks like a hypotenuse doing a keg stand on a piece of paper. Unless it's some abstruse insight into the mentality of a frat boy or the social structure of a college community, I'm not retaining any sort of social commentary or prolific message. What attracts attention to these sorts of pieces is either the name, price tag, or where the piece is being displayed.

What pisses me off most is my brother's impressive work is put on the god damn bottom under some fucking second grader's noodle and Elmer's Glue craft project priced at $2,700. I'm not saying young kids who submit their work shouldn't feel special. Children should be encouraged to explore their creativity and the arts. But don't fucking give me an attitude like your child is this artistic prodigy.  Oh, this is Rebecca, she's 7 months old and she outlined this with her Cheerios one morning and CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? What, did the Virgin Mary appear in her cereal and prophesied that your child's mediocre art would sell for a lot of money?

And once again, let me reiterate: I'm not trying to insult people whose work is not as meticulous as my brother's or other work that isn't heavily detail oriented. I am absolutely NOT harping on anyone's vision because if someone creates something, it obviously means and represents something to them. There are some very brilliant pieces which I've come across and love dearly.  I'm just uncomfortable with how certain pieces that evidently had a lot of hard work go into them that are donated for viewing pleasure are disregarded because there isn't a price tag attached to them.

"Native American Portrait" by Andrew Mania
As seen above, my brother's work is so realistic that it's often mistaken for a photograph. That's why his signature style is gradually fading the image down and leaving it partially unfinished to indicate that it is an illustration. So meanwhile, while my brother's opus is being treated like bottom-shelf liquor, there's fucking three year old's Maggie booger-smeared napkin priced at $5,000 being treated like it's Belvedere.

For an event that claims to celebrate art and foster a sense of community, they sure seem to care more about making a profit. If you're a real artist, touching peoples' lives with your work and provoking emotion from your audience should come first. The financial compensation should come second.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Amanda Bynes, The Preamble, and Product Placement, Oh My!

With hair that upstages the Empire State Building, why not use these attention-seeking locks as a canvas for my art? For a little less than a year now, I've been producing what I affectionally dubbed as "hair art," or probably more widely recognized as "hair stencils." From Lindsay Lohan to the U.S Constitution, each meticulously contrived piece designed to provoke stares of intrigue is saturated with a deeper meaning concerning culture and society.

Amanda Bynes
Lindsay Lohan

Ford Motor Company 
Advertise Here!
"Preamble Hair"
Photo on right by Nicky Digital
Pope John Paul II
Photo by Nicky Digital
Photo by Ky DiGregorio for PMc Magazine
The laborious method can take up to a week depending on how elaborate the actual design is. Text and logos are usually easier depending on the font and size. Murals of peoples' faces involve painstaking precision and patience. Once a portrait is photoshopped to negative, the tracing process on wax paper begins, followed by the overwhelming procedure of cutting out each detailed piece until it resembles the initial photograph. Cutting out each piece usually requires an X-Acto knife and, more often than not, my brother's surgeon-worthy hand. And finally, the stencil is sprayed on with $2 black hairspray that can be found at any Halloween or costume store. The gymnastics I perform during the application process qualifies me as a Cirque de Soleil contortionist. It's absurd.

With tragedies befalling young Hollywood starlets to product placement to subtle political tones, each piece conveys social commentary about our culture and society. My desire is to add my own flavor to the peroxide pantheon and graduate from the archetypal blonde iconicity. It's important to be aware of the influence you can spark with the attention you receive. 

So the only question is, who or what is next? It could be you! Just please don't throw a bong out the window that could hurt an innocent muggle. 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

I Want a Train Longer Than the Line at the DMV, Damn It!

I'm happy to officially debut my creative opus: the button down gown. I designed it back in January and introduced it to the world on May 16th at NYC's chic Gerschwin Hotel for a star-studded affair I hosted. It was hand crafted and custom made for me by multi-faceted Brooklyn-based miracle seamstress Danielle DeMatteo who graduated from Hofstra University with me last weekend! Her skills range from accordion accompaniment to seamstress (I mean it when I say multi-faceted) and has been a good friend of mine for four years!

Subsequent to the gown's debut, I've been frequently asked what inspired the whole concept. Besides my whole raison d'être of pushing the boundaries of gender ambiguity, some of the inspiration was birthed from a fashion film and the rest came from impractical clothing. When I say impractical clothing I mean the attitude behind it.  It's the mental outlook of "fuck you, I will wear 7 inch heels before noon," or "yeah, I can't walk in this but I'm gonna wear it anyway because it's so fabulous" that invigorates my creative impetus. I love seeing someone wear something that most say is unfeasible and absurd.  So obviously, I had to add an 8 foot train that required three people to help me change in the middle of Madison Avenue.

Over the past two and half years, my style has evolved from bona fide punk to a more avant garde-punk-street-glam smorgasbord. Although my taste is ultimately rooted in punk, I've been into flowy and elongated garments this year. My desire was to create something that honored my style and vision but was new and different. I wanted something whimsical that pushed the envelope of my artistic capacity, but correlated with my image at the same time. It's no secret that I love wearing button downs, so I just made one into an overwhelmingly ostentatious gown with a train longer than the line at Six Flags on a Saturday morning.

Now, if only I can procure a pair of black latex opera gloves...

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Galas Are So Not Punk Rock

As we all know, the illustrious MET held their annual gala this year centered around a "punk" theme. Subsequent to the calvary of stars dawning frivolous attempts at punk fashion, calamity ensued on every social media platform debating this years theme and its authenticity or lack thereof. This year's exhibit, in conjunction with Vogue, is meant to explore punk fashion through a haute couture lens. Unfortunately, galas are a flagrant display of wealth and antithetical to the punk movement.

Seriously, what happened? Sarah Jessica Parker, this isn't the Trojan War, I don't know how I feel about you trying to juxtapose that headpiece with that gown. Kim Kardashian, sit down and eat a biscuit. Kristen Stewart looks like she's being photographed by a creepy uncle during a family reunion. And just the bevy of boring and tragic attempts at trying to bring "punk" to the red carpet rubbed me the wrong way. I did, however, live for Madonna and Miley Cyrus' looks that evening.

But honestly, the uproar I've witnessed on my newsfeeds and timelines resonated with me considering my close ties with the punk community. It's not just a musical genre, it's an intrinsically harnessed attitude displayed by the way one walks, talks, acts, dresses, etc. I've always been inspired by the CBGB era and my iTunes is monopolized by one big fuck you. I wish I had been invited to the MET Gala. Part of my fashion installation would have been to sling back 10 PBRs and vomit on the red carpet.

I guess I'm just perturbed because I know an array of talented NYC artists who fight tooth and nail to achieve their dreams. They might not need a red carpet, but they deserve to be recognized. A few months ago, I was approached to do a punk photoshoot with Vogue. I was selected as one of the top choices, but unfortunately I didn't get it. I was bitter for a while, but I realized that I don't need a high brow publication to validate me. The streets are my red carpet, and if I keep a strong heart and a twisted brain, I can cause a ripple in whatever field I pursue.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

ClASS vs. Class

There's a fine line between being comfortable with your sexuality and being a straight up harlot. This idea has been marinating in my cerebellum since one of my closest friends and I sparked a conversation similar to this a few weeks ago.

It's abundantly clear that dressing a certain way can be automatically correlated with being promiscuous. First, let's get this straight: my outfits say that I’m incredulous towards cultural metanarratives but down to rage like a motherfucker.

Now, let me make this clear. The point of this post isn't to passive aggressively target people who harbor a preconceived notion about me because that would be trite and futile. Rather, this is for people like me who are placed under overwhelming scrutiny because of how they dress/act and are automatically slapped with a label, when in reality they come home, take their clothes off, and watch Netflix while inhaling Ferrero Rocher. (Read as: me).  It would be hypocritical to be angry and verbally assault people who think of me in that manner because I'm asking for it by virtue of my style and behavior.

But does that mean we're going to stop showing skin and being comfortable with our bodies and behavior? No. It just means we're comfortable with our sexuality. Does that mean I'm going to continue wearing knee highs while dancing in a manner that suggests that half of the tri-state area has seen my no-no area. Yes.

These perceptions are further accentuated by the images we put online. If I post a picture with no pants on, like so:

...Then I'm obviously asking for attention. But not find-me-on-Craiglist-and-I'll-tickle-your-pickle-in-a-Quiznos-bathroom attention. I have never been a one night stand type of guy. If you know me personally, you can verify to anyone that if I can get a guy to take me to McDonald's that's the feat of the year. 

People will talk, they will fan the winds of gossip by perpetuating rumors that may not be true. What's important is to continue to be comfortable in your own skin and be conscious of your potential, whether you're wearing pants or not. Hearing remarks directed in a derogatory and malicious manner will eventually mute against the volume your ambitions exude. 

Monday, March 18, 2013

Greg Mania's Obituary

He loves NYC, but it ain't ever gonna love him back.

He's been a star. He's been a star to everyone. He shined so bright that now he's dim. The search to quench an insatiable thirst has left him emotionally comatose. There's a hole that no city, no camera flash, no cocktail, or guitar riff can fill. So many have tried to fill it, but with each attempt it grows deeper.  He used to drown himself in the bevy of lights, glitz, and glamour to substitute for something that seemed beyond the bounds of possibility. It's like a parasite that ate at his stalactite-ridden soul, yet birthed a terrifying and exciting flame fanned by the winds of self-destruction and ambition.

He hasn't said goodbye, but the gogo prince of the faux fur rock scene has been noticeably dormant. Not necessarily only because of the copious amount of schoolwork bestowed on him during the last semester of his college career, but because of a recent manifestation of sudden and striking realizations. Greg Mania will always be Greg Mania; it is not merely an accessory one adorns themselves with for a night of debauchery. It's not a hair color that fades or a persona cultivated by virtue of shock value. It's a state of mind. Mania is how he sees the world: through a kaleidoscopic monocle hypersensitive to every sensory function. It's an inescapable state of mind, a blessing and a curse. Blessed to be free, cursed to be public.

He bled looks and read his books. But how can he feel so free yet so caged in a city that makes him feel like he matters? The only way to fill the hole is to take the next step. He doesn't care about what is, he cares about what could be.

Sunday, March 3, 2013

Fashion Weak

Well, it's abundantly clear that taking 18 credits is the most effective cockblock from fabulosity and blogging. I'm hoping once I get my life together I can write more on here. (PS, is there a TED talk on how to be an adult, I'm not ready to do that in 3 months when I graduate.)

There's no greater feeling of productivity than getting rid of clothing from your bisexual senior year of high school era to make room for clothes that make you look like a genderless spectacle. Ultimately, my style is rooted in high street punk fashion. I find it pivotal to be transforming all the time. When I was a freshman, I had no idea what to major in and I think I even wore a pair of khankis once. Khakis. Now I'm a 21 year old senior who got selected as a top favorite for a Vogue shoot and working on cool events that allow me to push my creative boundaries. It's exciting, yet borderline terrifying.

Here is a design I've been working on making. I'm really hoping to debut it in the spring!

Thanks for illustrating my vision, Elizabeth Goodrich!

I've had this garment incubating in my cerebellum since December. It's sort of this androgynous glam rock bride button down. I always like to keep an element of rock/glamour in any ensemble, so you can probably assume there's going to be a spiked/denim/leather accessory situation going on. I mean, a dude with a mohawk the size of the Crysler Building wearing an obnoxiously long train. C'mon.

Unfortunately, the overwhelming ubiquity of studs and spikes on the floors of Forever 21 and H&M has turned me off towards wearing gratuitous amounts of metal on my clothes. Besides, I went through that phase about a year or two ago and now I'm all about blending avant garde, gender bending pieces that still pay homage to punk.

No pants, Von Trapp knee highs, and long asymmetrical button downs for Spring 2013, anyone?

Besides my lack of blogging, at least I can proudly announce that I'll be presenting a more formal academic version of my piece Born to Be Public at a symposium at the University of Delaware in April!

Also, make sure you save the date if you're in the NYC area! May 16th, The Gerschwin Hotel. Some amazing performances and surprises in store for you on this magical night!

Monday, January 21, 2013

Case Study: Drunk White Girls

I'm a people-watcher. I like to scrutinize everyone's quirks, mannerisms, and interaction within their environment. Ok listen, I'm a regular at the Lower East Side's Hotel Chantelle off of Delancey. I've hosted there, attended numerous functions, the whole deal. On Thursday, there are two little fêtes which I attend almost on a weekly basis. There's "POGO", a pop/disco dance club scene and "Generation Wild" which is a serious affair of heavy metal/rock n'roll debauchery. It's great because one is in the basement while the other concurrently goes on in the lobby. For someone like me who has a vast music taste (my iPod looks like the UN Summit of music genres), I can just dart back and forth. So it's like hopping between the border of two states except it's more like SHE'S MY CHERRY PIE and YOU SHOW THAT LIGHTS THAT STOP ME TURN TO STONE. 

So let's start our case study with the general demographic attending these weekly festivities. If you're like me, a regular Delancey street harlot, you're there to hang out with your friends who are hosting. So it's basically our excessively glamourous LES clique which varies week to week. And then there's the general public all sauntering throughout the venue's three floors. We already covered the first two, but there's also a third floor which is comprised of a bar and a terrace. That's mostly swanky, 1%-esque people and a designated smoking space outside on the roof. I love the upscale people on the third floor because when they see one of us from Dante's 10th circle of latex and leather hell come up, they totally judge us. BUT you know it's some broad named Barbara from Long Island who gets drunk off two wine coolers and her inner monlogue is "I can't wait to be home by 11 to watch Army Wives on LMN." Whatever.

And of course I love the characters and charming souls which grace the lobby to engage in heavy metal depravity. I especially love the older rockers who look like they haven't showered since the Berlin wall was taken down.

Anyway, let's move on to the focal point of this case study. And you know exactly who I'm talking about. The drunk white girls. You know, get drunk off of three vodka crans, squeal about how much they love everyone, buy chicken fingers, fall asleep in own vomit. Let me make it abundantly clear that I'm not talking about all caucasian females, rather focusing on a specific group. I'm talking about the Long Island and Jersey chicks who come to the city for a Sex and the City inspired night out. If you don't know who I'm talking about it's the girl crying by circa 3 AM and there's a 99% chance her name is Tiffany. Said subjects are usually observed dawning something overpriced from Forever 21 in Abusive Boyfriend Blue or an ensemble from Wet Seal. Shopping at Wet Seal is a great way to tell the world you will be having anal sex that night. Let us now meticulously list the peculiar characteristics of the drunk white girl:

First of all, everything is AWESOME. So AWESOME. And they love EVERYONE. Mao Zedong could have bottle service and it'd be oh em gee I love you. And then there's the piercing scream. I understand you're excited to see your friends but there is no reason to perpetually let out a squeal of such high pitched frequency that makes Mariah Carey green with envy. You do not need to scream so much. Why, why silly girl who cried during the verbal section of the SATs because you didn't know what the word "ubiquitious" meant, why? This usually occurs between the hours of midnight and 2 AM.

Now things get interesting between the hours of 2 AM and 4 AM . That's when I pull up a chair. I've got the popcorn going and I'm taking copious notes. EVERY song the DJ plays is their song. OH MY GOD IT'S OUR SONG in such a pitch that only a dog in Kuwait can hear. Every. damn. song. The DJ could play Sarah McLaughlin's "Like An Angel" from the animal abuse commercials and it'd be OH MY GOD IT'S OUR SONG. 

Then two things happen. The heels come off. WHY WOULD YOU EVER? Your bare feet are touching a floor glazed with SARs and Hoboken's bodily secretions. And then the hair goes up in what I lovingly refer to as the "sorority girl bun." You know that mess of hair that clumps in a ball on top of the head? And I know I'm the last one to judge ~any~ hair style, but at least my hair is organized chaos. That bun looks like you combed it with a grenade. No.

Let's wrap up this case study by reiterating my initial prognosis on the typical behavior of the drunk white girl: you are substantiating a stereotype by perpetually demonstrating the behavior which has spawned a derogatory connotation which is unfair to other girls who don't squeal, scream, and execute any other belligerent conduct. Unfortunately, this is the curse that stereotypes bear for individuals of any community that are known for certain things but don't corroborate it. So if this description resonates with any of you by virtue of your actions whilst inebriated at a venue: please don't shout and keep your shoes on.

Monday, January 7, 2013

Baby You Know I Love You, But Ya Gotta Stop Bringing Me Down

On the heels of their recent single release, The Nuclears took to the stage at NYC staple venue Bowery Ballroom on Friday, December 4 to show the Lower East Side some good ol' Brooklyn rock n'roll debauchery. They opened for NYC heartthrobs The Dirty Pearls (who are leaving to go on tour with some Lady) and according to all the beer I spilled on myself while belligerently dancing I can safely say all the bands brought the house down. Besides being personal friends of mine as well as one of my favorite bands, the boys' nine song set pulverized the crowd along with their playful stage presence leaving looks of awe, enjoyment, and panic among audience members. Playing crowd favorites such as "Fast Cars and Loud Guitars" and "Eclipso," the boys also included covers of Bowie and The Doors. Briana Layon & The Boys front woman joined them on stage to perform their recent single too! If you don't know Briana Layon you should read THIS. Psst, I also heard she's cooking up some new tunes too!

Their latest single, "Baby You Know I Love You (But You Gotta Stop Bringing Me Down)"was recorded a few weeks ago when the band and their fiery red-headed manager Ky Digregorio (who also happens to my best friend) sequestered themselves to a mansion in Wingham, NY to lay down the vocals followed by mixing the track in Brooklyn (with help from fellow Bushwick band The Bottom Dollars, whose lead singer Brian Cherchiglia engineered and mastered the track). I heard the song many times before during its earliest stages of infancy, and I instantly fell in love with it. Its blues-esque vibe and infectious chorus has implanted itself in my brain until probably forever. Check it out below!

The Nuclears released 'Baby You Know I Love You (But You Gotta Stop Bringing Me Down)' as part of a split single package titled Windham Calling with The Bottom Dollars, check out the full release here.

(Also, a big congrats to my buds The Dirty Pearls for performing at all the official after parties for the Born This Way Ball! America doesn't know what's coming.)

Thursday, January 3, 2013

The Secret Lives of Hofstra Students: Greg Mania

Happy 2013! I decided the first blog post of this year would be an article on yours truly by Maggie Urban-Waala of Hofstra University. We did an interview and she wrote an amazing article on me appearing in The Chronicle, however only a small portion of it was printed. Below is the full article. Check it out! 

The Secret Lives of Hofstra Students: Greg Mania
By: Maggie Urban-Waala

Photo credit: Ky Digregorio for PMc Magazine

Surveying the dorm room of Greg Mania, it is evident that he has a certain eccentricity about him. Looking no further than his personal appearance, it is clear that he encompasses this attitude in all aspects of his life.

The 6’1” blonde bombshell struts around campus with an additional 10 inches of hair teased to its maximum height, leaving most at least curious, if not completely puzzled by his ability to make almost anyone do a double take.

Today Mania is sporting black and white vertically striped pants and a vintage David Bowie sweater as he rushes into his room, flustered as ever, spouting on about nameless individuals he has to meet with and email immediately.

I sit at his desk taking in the room’s decorations, which leave one with a vamp-like taste in your mouth that is only heightened by the lack of natural light in the room. The shades are drawn and the main source of lighting comes from strands of Christmas lights draped along walls. While black, white and red remain the central color scheme, the single room is accented by pieces including bedazzled skulls, a disco ball, a zebra print area rug, and strewn books with titles ranging from “Psychopath Test” to “Love Janis”.

Seeing a bit more into his personal life makes it almost necessary to learn more about him and his life outside of Hofstra University.

Greg Mania is a fierce and hard-working senior at Hofstra majoring in Mass Media studies with a minor in German. The student possesses an array of skills ranging from writing in his highly esteemed blog to entertaining numerous crowds involved in the New York City nightlife.

He gracefully swings his exceptionally long legs over the edge of his bed, recalling his first few outings in NYC that took place almost three years ago.

Routinely ditching his dance lessons in the Upper West Side at 16, Mania would find himself wandering by himself in the Lower East Side against his parent’s instructions looking for gigs and watching the excitement that followed socialites in the “scene”.

The eager teen would then rush home to add the socialites on MySpace and Facebook, not realizing that they were also taking notice of him as well.

Besides gaining attention for his contagiously defiant yet playful nature in NYC, he couldn’t avoid it throughout high school as well.

“I’ve always had that in me, but I didn’t feel comfortable because every time I did something over the top the kids would look at me and say ‘What is he doing dancing on that table with his shirt off?’ but when I went downtown I realized that these people would not mind me being outrageous.”

Mania glances in the mirror, checking to be sure his blonde locks are firmly in place before he explains the confusion and popularity that has resulted due to the spelling of his last name, which coincidentally is not pronounced the way it would seem to be.

Despite this, the incorrect pronunciation of his last name stuck in his social life, and was almost too ironic considering his relatively manic personality. He began to run into an increasing amount of individuals who recognized him and praised him for living up to the name.

After doing a bit of networking, he eventually found himself tweeting back and forth with the drummer from The Dirty Pearls, a band that he viewed as “Good ol’ rock ‘n’ roll. They’re not some lame band that tries to be badass.”

While experiences such as this make him noticeably glow while reminiscing, Mania explains that he understands, just like every other college student, the exhaustion of performing at his highest potential in multiple aspects of life.

Between keeping his hair at a skyscraper-esque height, networking with a range of characters in the city and attempting a normal college experience, Mania states he deals with the stress by simply “dying in between”.

Mania smirks and readjusts his position on the bed to lay on his side, resting his head on one arm as he recalls himself sitting in class in a constant state of struggle between brainstorming his next outlandish look for that night’s outing and needing to participate in a debate on Rousseau’s The Social Contract.

His packed schedule is overwhelming, but he explains that it is completely necessary because it is his natural anti-depressant to complete his responsibilities as a student and still be able to go out and cultivate his varying ensembles each night.

I ask him how and if he contains an off switch for his eccentricity in order to separate his Hofstra life from his NYC life, and he explains coolly that he is “Mania” 24/7.

He emphasizes the importance he places on staying true to himself, stating “I go to bed with my hair done all 10 feet tall, because I like to say, ‘If I die, I need to look good for the coroner.'”

Mania grew up performing in dance and theatre, which explains his laidback nature in response to the ever-present spotlight that he finds himself under at Hofstra and NYC alike.

Refusing to step out from the spotlight anytime soon, Mania struggles to recall all of the exciting new projects he is currently working on. Some of these include collaborating with reputable hair artist Chelsea Pickthorn, being hired to write a bio for up and coming NYC artist Brittany Campbell, providing comic relief and insight through his blog and Twitter accounts, and plotting new looks to sport at his favorite events.

Mania can hardly contain himself when describing a look that he plans to fashion soon which includes a mural of Lindsay Lohan spray painted on his hair from a stencil that he’s been working on.

Besides these current projects, Mania has a clear vision of his future that will include maintaining a creative environment at all times, writing and working as a creative director both in front of and behind the camera, and making sure to constantly push the envelope on gender ambiguity.

Mania expresses his desire to always remain active in the fashion world and inspire people through his wardrobe, stating, “For me, style is more valuable than fashion because style says who you are without you having to speak. It’s not about what you can afford.”

After mentioning the word style, Mania jumps up from the bed as if possessed insisting that he needs to go to the mall immediately. Once there, it is obvious that Hofstra is not the only place the icon receives blatant stares, especially after storming up to a women’s clothing rack in Express and demanding to try on a cheetah print jacket.

Although Mania clearly portrays his confidence through his style and personality, he notes that it is a struggle for some to fully embrace their own potentially unique fashion sense, explaining that although Hofstra is a very liberal community, there is always that yearning to fit in.

He proudly states his advice to those who are playing it safe, stating, “You don’t owe anyone an explanation for who you are.”