Lisa Don't Mind When I Call Her Leslie

Almost Famous

2011-10-01T14:01:00.000-07:00

I want to live in Los Angeles in the 60's, New York City in the 70's, Miami in the 80's, and New York City again in the 90's.

Listen to Tommy with a candle burning and you will see your entire future.

Let's say all the things we never said.

Poojah

2011-09-25T22:38:00.000-07:00

1.) If you don't have a microwave, be careful while trying to make a Hot Pocket it in the oven. Especially if the oven doesn't work, and when the dial is at 350, it's actually off, and so you have to turn the dial to 150, but that's actually 500 degrees...or broil, I'm not sure. Anyway, you're gonna burn the Hot Pocket, so just don't buy the Hot Pockets in the first place.

2.) Tacks can come in awful handy if you have a lot of them, a lot of things to hang on your walls (i.e. curtains, posters, etc.). WARNING: while convenient, this tack-method will make your room look like a cross between a grade school style blanket fort and a dorm.

3.) If you don't have a washer, hand washing things is fine. Just be prepared for crunchy underwear.

4.) Air mattresses...not so bad? Put it on a pretty bed frame and it's just like the real thing, only a little squeakier.

5.) If you're downtown and see a homeless guy peeing right in front of you, keep your cool and walk away. If you act startled, he may jerk and accidentally hit you with the stream. (no, this didn't happen to me, but I did see a homeless guy peeing and I was mortified).

That's really all I got right now, my brain is drained of all its juices and brain cells and I'm wondering when they will return...no amount of sleep is aiding me in rational thought at this point.

Kool Aid

2011-09-23T18:07:00.000-07:00

There's an expression that goes something along the lines of, "drinking the Kool Aid".

It originates from the Jonestown Massacre in 1978. Jonestown, a cult in Guyana, is infamous for a mass suicide (over 900 people) ending their own lives by drinking Kool Aid laced with Valium, Cyanide, and a healthy dose of some other drugs. The people living in Jonestown were notorious for blindly following their leader, Jim Jones, who instructed them to their deaths. In present day, "drinking the kool aid" means just that; doing something because you're told, or because everyone else is doing it.

Folks, come hell or high water, I refuse to drink the Kool Aid, and I hope you do too (unless it's grape; I love grape). Sometimes, in a town like LA, it's hard not to be too cool for everything, to act like a fool and be yourself, because LA is the epitome of too cool. Too cool to eat, too cool to dance, too cool for pretty much everything. But let me be the first to say that I am not too cool for...anything. Don't get me wrong, I love, love, love LA, but if I run into one more situation where someone else can't get over who I am as a person, I'm moving to Antarctica. I hear penguins are weird as fuck.

Who I was in 2001

2011-09-11T19:57:00.001-07:00

It's September 10, 2001. I'm in 7th grade. I'm 12 years old, about to turn 13 in October. The summer heat still lingers, ending of one of the most memorable in my life. I spent it with my Grandpa, in and out of hospitals and nursing homes, as he slowly got weaker and frailer, eventually dying in mid-August of that year. By September 11, I was just beginning to cope with life without him, wondering constantly of there would ever be a day I didn't think about it. I wondered if I'd forget what his face looked like, or the way he said my name (I haven't).

When I wasn't with Grandpa, I was setting up my video camera in my room, putting on Michelle Branch and P!nk Top 20 hits, and lip syncing their songs to make my own music videos. I was obsessed with video cameras and tape recorders, making my own "radio shows" frequently. I was at an awkward phase, having grown almost a foot in one year. I very quickly went from a squat, chubby 6th grader to a lanky, thin 7th grader. My braces came off and I was very aware that I was now...smokin' hot.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was sitting in Mrs. Peterson's science class. The assistant principal came in and told us that a plane had hit the World Trade Center in New York City. Although I would later find out that I had in fact been to the top of the building, I didn't know what it was at the time. I envisioned that it looked something like the Eagleton building in downtown St. Louis. A tall building, just one, with some sort of ornate roof. I didn't know what the World Trade Center was, what it looked like, or pretty much anything else about it. I do remember being really angry that we weren't allowed to watch TV, lurking behind a door to the gym coaches office trying to go unnoticed as they watched a grainy screen. They eventually noticed me, shooing me away. At the end of the day I had history class. I forget the teacher's name, but he was a small, thin man with longish, peppered grey hair. He told us that we would always remember what happened that day, the way he remembers where he was when President Kennedy was shot (he was standing at his locker, and another kid walked past him, asking, "did you hear the President has been shot?"). He told us he was going to church that night to pray for the people that had died. I remember thinking that that was a really nice thing to do, if you believed in Jesus.

I had no idea what this building(s) was, but everyone was really upset and so I pretended like I knew what the buildings were, too. I remember so badly wanting some connection to New York City, some reason to be invested in this event. I chose my Mom's friend Barbara who lives in New Jersey but commuted to the city for work.

"I know someone in New York, too."

When I got home that day, I sat in my living room alone watching the news I so desperately craved. I recorded the news on our VCR (again, I was obsessed with taping things). I was fascinated at what was going on, not really grasping the gravity of it. I sat on the floor in front of the TV as my parents watched in another room.

My Dad and I agreed later that we were glad my Grandpa died when he did. A veteran of World War II, I think seeing the events of September 11 unfold would have killed him, anyway. I still think about that summer a lot, spending every day in hospitals and nursing homes with him, playing along in his demential episodes of being in Japan during the War. In a lot of ways, my life totally changed in the span of about a month. The world went from being unbreakable and consistent, and suddenly, people were dead and our country was scared. Nothing was certain anymore.

People die, idle Mondays turn into total catastrophes, and unpredictability becomes the norm. I think deep down, I expect to wake up every day to horrible news, and if it doesn't happen...I'm just waiting for it to.

Just a Story

2011-08-25T19:24:00.000-07:00

While I worked on Catalina Island, CA as a summer camp counselor a few years ago, my parents decided to come visit me for the camp's "Parents Day". My Dad, ever the "outdoorsman", went with me to hike to a peak overlooking the ocean and the bay. As we hiked up, he asked every camper with their parents if they had passed a vending machine yet. That's Sherman-style hiking. It really meant a lot to me that my parents came to visit that summer, I'll never forget it. For christ sake my Dad hadn't been on a plane since before 9/11 and was confused as to why he had to take his shoes off for security. Obviously, trekking out to California was quite an endeavor to show me how much they love me and support my decisions. I honestly don't know if I can think of a specific instance that sticks out more than that one. Except this one time we were at a restaurant when I was a little kid, and I accidentally kicked this woman while we waited for a table. The woman turned around and yelled at me, and my Mom flew into such a rage, she got the woman kicked out. But yeah, the Catalina trip was really awesome.

I feel like a new mother that doesn't love her baby

2011-08-24T20:58:00.001-07:00

Alright, so that may be an exaggeration, but I'll try to explain the relevance. I just graduated from college, and don't get me wrong, I LOVED COLLEGE. The four years I spent there were amazing, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even living in LA, I have no shame in displaying my school pride with gusto. However, with school starting for the fall semester, I see many of my friends in anguish over the fact that they won't be a part of it. I tried to get sad about it, and I just...couldn't. I felt bad, like I was a bad school ambassador or something. "I don't love my former university the most if I'm not the saddest not to be there" was my thought process. But you know, here's what I think about it. College was a stepping stone for conquering the world, and so I'm glad I'm not there anymore. Instead, I am out, beginning my quest of world domination, and that's exciting. New city, new opportunities, new experiences unlike ANY I had before, it's hard to be sad, you know? I'd say the thing I miss isn't college but the friends I made there that I haven't seen in a while. When I think about them, I get sad. Wanna know the good thing about people, though? They are not rooted to the ground and made of bricks. They, unlike Tucker Forum, can get on a JetBlue airliner and visit me. And I too can board that same jet and visit them, which is convenient. Yeah, maybe I'm not a college student, but the opportunities I've given myself by moving and truly exploring are great, and I'd be crazy to tie myself down to my college experience when I knew full well that it'd end in four years. I don't think I'm sad because I know this is not the end of my friendships, and that's what truly matters to me.

Pastpassed

2011-08-20T23:40:00.000-07:00

I think I've hit a point in my life where I am actually, genuinely sick of thinking about the past. Past events, past boyfriends and flings, dwelling on mistakes I've made; I'm truly exhausted thinking about it. I wonder if this is what being an adult means? Adult in the mental sense, but certainly not in the physical, Judge-Judy-and-orthopedic-shoes sense. Although don't get me wrong, Judge Judy is like, the most kickass Jewish woman (second only to my mother and Joan Rivers).

This is an apology.

2011-08-11T00:53:00.000-07:00

Please, take this to heart?

You look like Kate Middleton, seriously.

Your blog is very well crafted, and yes, I read it. You're smart, alright?

The fact that you're good at field hockey makes me so jealous, rock it bitch. I warmed that bench for five years...

When the apocalypse comes, you will certainly survive with your skills in the wild. Procreate for the rest of us, who will have died waiting in line at the Ritz for comet-proof rooms.

This is my life

2011-08-06T00:16:00.001-07:00

A Friday night, I'm at home watching Ren and Stimpy. It's like 3rd grade all over again.

I'll fix this shitty blog like I'll fix the debt ceiling: with curse words.

2011-07-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

Usually, cussing makes things more entertaining. Should I fucking try that? Cuss a whole assload on my nasty ass blog? Let's fucking try this out, we'll talk about the goddamn debt ceiling.

OK, so basically if our shit-retarded representatives don't get their shit in line by August 1st, we're all fucked. We're gonna fucking default on our national debt, the value of our shitty worthless dollar will be even fucking less than it already is. Interest rates will also shoot upward like a broom handle up all of our asses. Democrats thing we should raise taxes, and republicans are like, "fuck that", cut spending tea party blah bullshit. I'm thinking it has to be a combination of both, duh, but don't fucking tax the shit out of me because I'm already pissed. I think the highway patrol should get cut in fucking half in LA because no one ever fucking gets pulled over, I don't know why I waste my damn time following the speed limit when all these other jackasses are flying by me.

But most importantly, we have to FUCKING COMPROMISE because I swear to god if we go into the second great depression because some jackasses on tractors waving the Confederate flag, and some blue, ethically/morally "responsible" morons won't just meet in the middle, I WILL BE SO FUCKING PISSED OFF, WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE.

This blog fucking sucks

2011-07-26T10:27:00.001-07:00

I was chatting with my friend the other night and it inspired me to reread my blog entries. Dude, this blog fucking sucks. If you're reading this blog, I have to question a lot about your mental aptitude. This, of course, excludes my dutiful friends who read my blog because they don't want to find me hanging from a shower curtain rod. They read it, and raise an eyebrow, but find like, the one or two redeeming qualities of each post to report back to me or comment about. It's good friends like this that have led me to believe that my blog wasn't half bad; I have been mislead. So, this leaves me to do three things:

a.) continue writing my shitty blog in the same way that I've been writing it; shittily.

b.) Continue writing my shitty blog, but attempt to un-shittify it.

c.) Delete it altogether and hang myself from a shower curtain rod.

Stop. Listen. But don't stop listening.

2011-07-18T22:36:00.000-07:00

Whenever I feel too proud or dismal, I listen to this song/poem/column, originally written by Mary Schmich for the Chicago Tribune in 1997. The speech was remixed by Australian filmmaker Luhrmann and released as a single in 1999.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTJ7AzBIJoI

Baz Luhrmann- Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.

The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists,

whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable

than my own meandering experience…I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind, you will not

understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.

But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and

recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before

you and how fabulous you really looked. You’re not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as

effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing

bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that

never crossed your worried mind. The kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you. Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other peoples' hearts, don’t put up with

people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy;

sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes

you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with

yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you

succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your

life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they

wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year

olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe

you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky

chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much,

or berate yourself either;

your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people

think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for

good. Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the

people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you

should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and

lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you

knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard;

live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will

philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize

that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were

noble and children respected their elders. Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,

maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will

look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who

supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of

fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the

ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen…

Things LA taught me this week: part I

2011-07-17T23:16:00.000-07:00

1.) If someone invites you to a premiere, an opening, a launch, you go. I don't know where else in the world where there are more things being celebrated, but you should always go, even if it's just for the open bar and industry insiders. Oh, and RIDICULOUS hipsters.

2.) I have yet to see the full results of E's BPC Cleanse, but the moral of the story may be that juice fasts only work for Beyonce. Drinking four bottles of juice that smells and tastes exactly like a lawn may simply be masochism, and nothing more. But I mean there was really only one way to find that out for sure...

3.) Not worrying about what you'll do for the rest of your life is probably a good idea. Especially if you're 22. A great Sher-man (my cousin) once said, "the cream rises to the top". I know he's right.

4.) Shopping is officially better than meeting new men. Probably because men are satan's hell spawn and shopping is God's gift to women. Shopping never lets me down, is always fun, and on my terms. Men are unpredictable, socially inept, and bad kissers. OK, you're not all bad kissers, but the one bad kisser really scares me and ruins it for the whole bunch.

5.) I'm going figure skating tomorrow. And I'm writing a screenplay. It's time for things to really get interesting.

Babies change everything

2011-07-15T02:53:00.000-07:00

And I'm a testament to that fact.

This post is about how much I love my parents. Seriously, I can't think of better parents than mine, not even yours. All other parents pale in comparison to mine because I am so secure in my own abilities and I can only attribute them to one source: MY PARENTS.

1.) They never lied to me. I don't remember my parents ever lying to me about anything we ever talked about, most importantly death. It's something I've worried about since I was a very young child, and my parents never once lied to me or tried to cover it up.

2.) They never once praised me for something that any normal kid should do. Grades, good behavior, what have you, my parents never "rewarded" me for this. Especially grades. My parents always had the attitude that if I wanted good grades, I would get them for myself and no one else. Because they had such a lax attitude, I always tried to go above and beyond to impress them, because they "seemed" not to care.

3.) They let me make my own rules (to an extent). In high school, I never had a curfew. I was allowed to go out, do my own thing, and make my own choices. Because of this I never got too crazy, and still don't to this day. Whatever wild streak I had, I got it out pretty early on, and when I got to college I was the most level headed person I knew. Getting drunk was nothing new, and therefore I sat back and observed things more than I participated in them.

4.) They're really fucking smart, and were nice enough to lend me their brain cells.

5.) My parents are just generally great people with level heads and solid morals, and when it comes down to it, I literally would not change a single thing about either one of them. Honestly, after all of the friends I've made and the people I've met, I don't know if I know anyone else who can say as good of things about their parents as I can. If you disagree and want to challenge me, I'm absolutely up for that challenge. Just prepare to lose like a 2-year old girl.

Giddy

2011-07-14T15:46:00.001-07:00

Leave it to E to take me to my first premiere of any kind. Blogging of the Remix Magazine launch party soon to come...

Old habits die hard

2011-07-13T22:09:00.000-07:00

My junior year of high school my English teacher had the class do a project where we picked a song, analyzed the lyrics, and explained them thoroughly. I did "Sitting, Waiting, Wishing" by Jack Johnson, and for some reason, I think about this project all the time. Whenever I listen to songs, I really listen to the lyrics and think "I shoulda done this song instead....". Oh well.

"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing"

Now I was sitting waiting wishing

You believed in superstitions

Then maybe you'd see the signs

But Lord knows that this world is cruel

And I ain't the Lord, no I'm just a fool

Learning loving somebody don't make them love you

Must I always be waiting waiting on you?

Must I always be playing playing your fool?

I sing your songs, I dance a dance

I gave your friends all a chance

But putting up with them wasn't worth never having you

And maybe you've been through this before

But it's my first time

So please ignore

The next few lines cause they're directed at you

I can't always be waiting waiting on you

I can't always be playing playing your fool

I keep playing your part

But it's not my scene

Won't this plot not twist?

I've had enough mystery.

Keep building me up, then shooting me down

Well I'm already down

Just wait a minute

Just sitting waiting

Just wait a minute

Just sitting waiting

Well if I was in your position

I'd put down all my ammunition

I'd wondered why it'd taken me so long

But Lord knows that I'm not you

And If I was I wouldn't be so cruel

Cause waiting on love ain't so easy to do

Must I always be waiting waiting on you?

Must I always be playing playing your fool?

No I can't always be waiting waiting on you

I can't always be playing playing your fool, fool

Speaking of literature

2011-07-11T19:39:00.000-07:00

In High School I took several literature classes, and when I had to read Shakespeare, I absolutely dreaded it. Yes, I hate Shakespeare. I have such a hard time translating the words into terms I can understand. There is one sonnet, however, that I understand perfectly and enjoy more than any other work of Shakespeare's. So, here it is.

SONNET 130

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

You know what this says? Bitch, you ain't perfect by any means, but damn I love you more than anyone else. And I just....kind of love that.

Has it made all the difference?

2011-07-11T19:23:00.000-07:00

My Dad often tells me (I guess Robert Frost, too), to take the road less traveled. Now, in my second month out of college, I have to ask: What exactly is the road less traveled? What the fuck does that even mean, really? Here's how I see it:

The road oft traveled= Standard paths and courses of action. What most people do.

The road less traveled= The risky choices, entrepreneurial spirit, crazy ideas that somehow become realized.

Frost implies with these words that true happiness comes from the road less traveled; the decisions that set us apart, show our true creativity, really define us as superior individuals. But you know what? After taking my version of the "road less traveled", I realize that I'm not the only one following it. Many other people are doing about the same thing I am, and thus, this road I thought I alone trod on is in fact weathered by the feet of many. If I'm not the only one on it, is it really less traveled? Honestly, I'll take whatever road makes me happy, whether it's LA traffic or winding country roads. Maybe it defies others' expectations of you, perhaps no one understands, but it's giving the world the finger, and just...doing. Whatever you want. Life is finite and who can really say for sure what's real and what's not? It's time to stop taking it all so seriously and just...enjoy it.

Picture Dump 7/9/11

2011-07-09T19:56:00.000-07:00

Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps

2011-07-05T19:58:00.000-07:00

Doris Day -- Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps by milos.ciric

Over the Hump

2011-07-05T19:39:00.000-07:00

The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony(Instrumental) by egerilla

Last week I was particularly reminiscent of college. Missing it, missing my roommates and friends, missing the structure of life and the atmosphere in general. But today, as I drove through Beverly Hills and saw the Hollywood sign and the Griffith Observatory in one panoramic view, I realized I have no reason to be upset. Phases of life come and go, and as hard as it is to let go of a particular point in time, you have to. See, the thing about time is...it never stops. It never stops, and I can reminisce all I want, but it keeps going. I can pout, throw myself on the ground and start crying like a toddler, but time, unlike a sympathetic parent, does not stop. It doesn't turn around to see me crying, kicking, and screaming. Not only does it not stop, it doesn't care or even know that I'm upset. It just moves forward and brings everything along with it. At this point, like a child, I have two options: Stay on the floor until I pass out from exhaustion, or get up, pretend no one saw me, and enjoy every second I've got. Because unlike time, I'm not sure if I'll travel on infinitely, forever.

"How life is strange and changeful, and the crystal is in the steel at the point of fracture, and the toad bears a jewel in its forehead, and the meaning of moments passes like breeze that scarcely ruffles the leaves of willows."

-Robert Penn Warren, "All The King's Men"

The Bridge

2011-07-03T23:18:00.000-07:00

This towering mass is an American icon. When you think of the Golden Gate Bridge, clear days, kites, and a calm bay are a few things that come to mind. The giant red structure looks joyous, not looming...for most.
Enter the documentary, The Bridge. A series of stories, The Bridge tells the true stories of a handful of people that committed suicide by jumping off of this iconic landmark. In 2004, 24 people leaped to their death from the Golden Gate Bridge, tarnishing its cheery and "American" reputation. In fact, after watching this film, the bridge will always retain an eeriness and an air of mystery. What brings joy to tourists from around the world simultaneously represents the end of thousands of lives.
"The Bridge" paints a dark, ominous picture of the Golden Gate as viewers hear about the lives of some of the deceased. One such jumper, a 24-year old guy, survived the plunge when he realized mid-leap that he didn't in fact want to die. He oriented his body so his feet hit the water, and only suffered a few broken bones. He is still alive today.
Suicide is obviously a controversial topic, but the participants in this movie often felt that their loved ones were so tortured in life that they were better off now in death. To suffer so greatly in life that death, the doom of most peoples' fears, was the bright spot; it's unthinkable to most. However, I can't judge what I don't understand. It's just sad.
I would highly recommend watching this movie. Not only is it an interesting and unseen view of an American landmark, it is also a glimpse into the circumstances and consequences of suicide faced by people who attempt it as well as the families who have lost loved ones. It blurs the line between right and wrong and puts a more human and sympathetic face on suicide; it's not as cut and dry as most people think. It's easy to say that suicide is a sin, but after hearing these families speak out about the pain their loved ones endured their entire lives, some may question how easy it is to write off this final act.

Snotty grammar

2011-07-03T11:05:00.000-07:00

I could get used to using yacht and summer as verbs.

When Semi-Good People Do Bad Things

2011-06-29T20:48:00.000-07:00

I'm infallible. Except when I'm not.

It was recently brought to my attention that some of the posts on this blog were aimed at certain people for vindictive reasons. At first, I dismissed the accusations of my immaturity, scoffing at the idea that my accuser had any credibility to tell me what kind of person that I was. After mulling it over for a while, I realized something quite unpleasant: It was immature, and who was I kidding? Sometimes, when you're angry, trying to hurt other people seems like a healing option. When you're hurt, you want the people that you're angry with to hurt too. Whether this is useful or not is perhaps up for debate, but I think it comes down to one simple thing: smearing people in a nameless abyss like the internet is petty and immature. I was petty and immature.

I considered contacting these people personally, but decided against it. I did the smearing here, on this blog, so I will nip it in the bud and announce it where it began: right here.

No, I didn't write about these people by name, but they certainly know who they are. Hopefully, if they read the mean posts, then they'll also read this one, and know it's for them.

Writing mean things about people on a blog or anywhere else on the internet is hurtful, mean spirited, and cowardly. In righting this wrong, I have to admit that and take responsibility by saying that I was a coward. I would be incredibly hurt if I read things written about me on the internet; not only that, but the self control it would take to not respond is immense. Maybe in time, I will find that maturity. I have to admit to them and everyone else that reads this blog that I made a great error in judgement.

My Dad once told me that apologies were worthless. You can apologize a million times while still repeating the same offenses, and just apologize after each time. Instead of apologizing, I will simply say that I will take down the posts I'm referring to, as well as not create posts like them in the future. And I can go back to what I do best: Being brilliantly insane.

Manipulations

2011-06-28T18:24:00.000-07:00

Photo Courtesy of People.com

Today I read about some controversy surrounding this weeks cover of Newsweek. The cover depicts a manipulated photo of Kate Middleton and Princess Diana. Obviously the photo of Diana has been superimposed, and has been aged to simulate what Diana would look like today. You see the late Princess, walking with Middleton, creating a fantastical world where we ask: what if?

After graduating from Journalism school, I have some sharp opinions on this issue. First, to use photos to create a non-existent situation seems....cheap. Any magazine could use super photoshopped pictures to sell issues, but they don't. There's that unwritten rule (ethics?), that prevents covers like this from happening (at least often).

The magazine poses a question, and seemingly answers it with one photo that they themselves have created. Certainly, there is an unaltered, true photograph that can be used to discuss the same issue. Having a photo of Diana that is aged to show what she may look like today is fine, but inside of the article, not on the cover, and not then put into a fake situation with Kate Middleton.

I think the worst thing about this cover is that it's just plain creepy. At the end of the day, this is not only a national figure who died tragically, but someone's dead mother. It would be my guess that Prince William has wondered before what life would be like if his mother were still alive, and although I don't think the story should have been shelved to spare one person, I do think the same article could have run with a different cover.

Musick

2011-06-26T20:58:00.001-07:00

After two music internships, countless mix tapes, and obsessive iPod listening, I decided that what better time than now to make a list of my favorite music....ever? Yes, I'm doing it. Music is such a personal piece of me, so letting people listen to the songs I consider the "Soundtrack to My Life" is a big deal. But you know what? If you don't want to listen to my favorite music, you can gauge your ears out instead. Enjoy!

1.) All I Wanna Do- Sheryl Crow

2.) Rhapsody In Blue- George Gershwin

3.) Natural's Not In It- Gang of Four

4.) Praise You- Fatboy Slim

5.) Turn The Beat Around- Vickie Sue Robinson

6.) September- Earth, Wind, and Fire

7.) Cold Hard Bitch- Jet

8.) It's Not Unusual- Tom Jones

9.) I Want You- Third Eye Blind

10.) My Girl- The Temptations

11.) Bang a Gong- T-Rex

12.) What Ever Happened- The Strokes

13.) Stuck In The Middle With You- Steeler's Wheel

14.) Say You'll Be There- Spice Girls

15.) Take Your Mama Out- Scissor Sisters

16.) I'm Gonna Live Til I Die- Sarah Vaughan

17.) It's Tricky- Run DMC

18.) Gimme Shelter- Rolling Stones

19.) Show Me Love- Robyn

20.) Can't Stop- Red Hot Chili Peppers

21.) Karma Police- Radiohead

22.) Heaven's On Fire- The Radio Dept.

23.) Don't Stop Me Now- Queen

24.) Mama Loves Mambo- Perry Como

25.) Bombs Over Baghdad- Outkast

26.) Summer Nights- Grease Cast

27.) Mother We Just Can't Get Enough- New Radicals

28.) Country Grammar- Nelly

29.) So Rich, So Pretty- Mickey Avalon

30.) Whiskey In The Jar- Metallica

31.) Change- The Lightning Seeds

32.) Daft Punk Is Playing At My House- LCD Soundsystem

33.) California Gurls- Katy Perry feat. Snoop Dogg

34.) Everything is Broken- Bob Dylan

35.) I've Been Everywhere- Johnny Cash

36.) Star Wars Theme- John Williams Orchestra

37.) Tears Dry On Their Own- Amy Winehouse

38.) Cryin'- Aerosmith

39.) Roam- The B-52's

40.) Everybody's Free (to wear sunscreen)- Baz Luhrmann

41.) Don't Worry Baby- The Beach Boys

42.) Take My Breath Away- Berlin

43.) Time After Time- Cyndi Lauper

44.) Tighten Up- The Black Keys

45.) I Want Candy- Bow Wow Wow

46.) Toxic- Britney Spears

47.) Lovefool- The Cardigans

48.) Kiss Me- Sixpence None The Richer

49.) London Calling- The Clash

50.) Talk- Coldplay

51.) Dreams- The Cranberries

52.) One More time- Daft Punk

53.) I Believe In A Thing Called Love- The Darkness

54.) Last High- The Dandy Warhols

55.) Hotel California (Live)- The Eagles

56.) Danger! High Voltage- Electric Six

57.) Don't Go Breaking My Heart- Elton John & Kiki Dee

58.) Dog Days Are Over- Florence + The Machine

59.) Daniella- John Butler Trio

60.) As Time Goes By- Frank Sinatra

61.) Take Me Out- Franz Ferdinand

62.) Rich Girl- Hall and Oats

63.) Malibu- Hole

64.) Drunken Sailor- Irish Rovers

65.) Wonderful World- James Morrison

66.) Ordinary People- John Legend

67.) Bittersweet Symphony- The Verve

Well, I'd say that's decently comprehensive. 67 songs..... But if I had to narrow it down even further, to let's say TEN songs.....

All I Wanna Do- Sheryl Crow

Rhapsody In Blue- George Gershwin

Hotel California (live)- The Eagles

Turn The Beat Around- Vicki Sue Robinson

Don't Go Breaking My Heart- Elton John & Kiki Dee

Praise You- Fatboy Slim

Bittersweet Symphony- The Verve

Stuck In The Middle With You- Steeler's Wheel

Don't Worry Baby- The Beach Boys

Time After Time- Cyndi Lauper

Inflate

2011-06-26T00:31:00.001-07:00

Since moving to LA, I've had the opportunity to visit some of the city's most prized possessions. Today, exploring the LACMA was one such opportunity (which I thoroughly enjoyed). I had gone with the intention of seeing the Tim Burton Exhibition. Well folks, today I got lucky, because I not only got to marvel at the twisted mind of Burton, but I also discovered another artist that I absolutely love: Jeff Koons.

Koons, a native of Pennsylvania, caught my eyewith his use of inflatable toys and recreation of a balloon dog. His contemporary art revolves around contemporary

things: vacuum cleaners, pool toys,

ladders, etc. One of his pieces, a pool toy skewered on a chain-link fence, had me mesmerized for a good ten minutes. How does the toy stay spiked on the fence and not pop? What did he fill it with to retain it's shape? I was fascinated.

His balloon dog is truly worth seeing, though. Chrome, blue, and gigantic, it's every wide-eyed child's fantasy. Like the most exquisite toy at a Circus, I squealed at the sight of it.

Koons and Burton aren't the only note-worthy attractions at the LACMA. Clockwise from top: Jack Pierson, Last Chance Lost, 2007. Metal, neon, wood and plastic. LACMA. Jeff Koons, Balloon Dog (blue), 1994-2000. High chromium stainless steel with transparent color coating. Andy Warhol, Where Is Your Rupture?, 1961. water based paint on canvas. Jeff Koons, Chain Link, 1994-2000. Mixed Media.

Nothing Like Good Friends

2011-06-25T01:01:00.000-07:00

You know you have amazing friends when one of them asks, "who's the most likely person to lose their virginity to a diving board?". Summer camp can do crazy things to a person, but god, this is just too good. There is nothing like seeing amazing, old friends. It doesn't hurt when they say ridiculous shit, too.

Secret Wish

2011-06-23T20:59:00.001-07:00

I always secretly wished that my parents had a family that were their mortal enemies. Why, do you ask?

So I could have a Romeo + Juliet romance. I'm sure this comes as no surprise if you're a 20-something girl who grew up in the nineties. I always wanted that kiss in the elevator at the costume ball. A sexy knight who whisks you away? Who also happens to be Leonardo Dicaprio? Please, Mom and Dad, tell me you've got a family you hate with an irresistibly sexy son. Pouty lips wouldn't hurt, either.

My friends are awesome

2011-06-23T20:28:00.001-07:00

Sheryl Crow - All I Wanna Do

I wont name names, but a certain best friend of mine who lives in LA did something that just...makes me smile. So I'll go ahead and tell the story.

Last night, this friend of mine and a friend

of hers went out for drinks in Culver City, and then in Santa Monica. We parted ways, and the next morning I called my friend to tell her how much fun I had.

She proceeded to tell me that when she got home, she was far more drunk than she realized, and ordered this online:

Yes. It's a neon sign saying "fuck". I'm not sure if this is the one she ordered, but you get the gist. Anyway, she woke up the next morning, realized the drunken error of her ways, and promptly cancelled the order.

Welcome to LA!

I just noticed...

2011-06-21T18:50:00.002-07:00

Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leppard by Deliberate Marketing

Say "cream and sugar".

Doesn't it kind of sound like "premature"?

That's my mental high point for the day, folks. Take it for what it's worth.

Leslie loves Ice Loves Coco

2011-06-20T18:11:00.000-07:00

My newest guilty pleasure: E!'s Ice Loves Coco. It features rapper Ice-T and his otherworldly wife, Coco (real name, Nicole Austin). I warn you, after watching this show, you will crave trashy stilettos, bulldogs, and feel the need to fill your body with implants of all shapes and sizes.

The second episode features Ice-T giving a speech at Kean University. He tells a joke, and I want to repeat it because I kind of liked it!

So, there's a flood in this town, and there's a priest standing waist deep in water. A boat comes by, offers to pick up the priest, but he refuses, saying that God will save him.

A few minutes later, the priest is shoulder deep in the water, and another boat comes by, offering to pick him up. Again, he refuses, saying that God will save him.

Finally, he is chin high in water, another boat comes by URGING him to get in, but yet again he refuses. A few minutes later, the priest drowns.

When he gets to heaven, he goes up to God, asking him why he didn't save his life.

God responds, "What the hell are you talking about, I sent you three boats!!"

Anyone who wants to join me in worshipping Ice and Coco is welcome.

Such Disappointment

2011-06-20T15:15:00.001-07:00

This blog's namesake, a Mickey Avalon song entitled "So Rich, So Pretty", empowered me. It's the only song I'm aware of that even mentions the name Leslie, and beyond that it's saying that other girls don't mind being called Leslie (because it's so great to be me). Alas, today is a sad one. Mickey's new song, "Stroke Me", sings this line:

" Leslie don't mind when I call her Lindsay".

Goddamnit, Mickey. And this is a double insult, because if people screw up my name, it's always Lindsay.

Mickey Avalon - So Rich, So Pretty by kylepink@inbox.com

Mickey Avalon - Stroke Me [Duke Nukem Mix] by SalivaCrew

Flaming Lips Part Deux

2011-06-16T01:15:00.001-07:00

Last August I had the pleasure of working a Flaming Lips show in Columbia while interning with an entertainment firm. Now that I've moved to LA, I was delighted when E invited me to another Flamping Lips show, only this time it was at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Man, those guys never disappoint. The added creepiness of the cemetery made the show that much more amazing! Wayne Coyne, the lead singer (who I met last year; he was incredibly nice) always seems to put on a fantastic show. He usually rolls over the audience in a gigantic hamster ball, but this time he did this only briefly, as the ground was too uneven for stability.

MEANEST woman on Earth.

2011-06-14T19:02:00.000-07:00

OK, if you've known me since freshman year of college, you know my unhealthy obsession with the E! reality show, The Girls Next Door. Yes, I've followed Hugh Hefner and his gaggle of silicone girlfriends since the beginning, even narrowly missing them while working on Catalina Island (I will forever regret not having my day off on the day they were there, and missing the sighting).

So when I heard today that Crystal Harris called off her wedding to Hefner, all I could think was...you truly are the dumbest woman alive! Everyone loves Hugh Hefner, and you just dumped him! You will forever be hated. OK, except maybe the state of Utah. But who really cares about them anyway? Doesn't count.

OK, not only that, but Hefner isn't going to be alive FOREVER; the man is already 85! Just fucking marry him so he can die happy! JESUS!! IS THERE NO HUMANITY IN THIS WORLD!?

Summore Pitchas

2011-06-13T11:28:00.001-07:00

Dreaming of PR and I feel dumb about it

2011-06-13T11:23:00.000-07:00

I have dreams about PR. I have dreams about publicity ideas. Here's one I had last night.

Remember in 2007 (I think?) when Britney was fresh off her shaving-her-head kick, and she tried to make a "comeback" by performing her then-single "Gimme More" on MTV? She looked like the walking epitome of a drug induced coma. SO, now that she's ACTUALLY making a comeback with her Femme Fatale tour, wouldn't it be great if she performed "Gimme More", in the same outfit, but instead of being killed, she totally killed it? It says "this is my real comeback y'all, look at how fantastic I am". I say she does it. Same performance, only this time, it's Britney bitches!

Yeah, I had a dream about this.

Dump of Findings

2011-06-07T16:45:00.001-07:00

I hate to have to be the one to say it, but...

2011-06-05T14:10:00.000-07:00

Pippa Middleton is utterly unremarkable. I do not want to see her name/picture popping up on fashion blogs any longer (for positive reasons). She looks like a J.Crew spokesperson. Her wardrobe reminds me of a dowdy, Senator's intern. She looks as if she needs a cup of coffee in one hand (for someone else), and a list of errands in the other. Maybe she's a sweet girl, I have no idea; I've seen no coverage of her personality. What I do know is that she isn't fashionable, she's trendy because of the Royal Wedding. Look at Princess Beatrice for Christ sake, she wore a WREATH on her head! Cover her!

Yet again I have an existential Jewish crisis.

2011-05-30T19:03:00.000-07:00

I struggle with my Judaism. Or lack of Judaism. Or lack of any religious motivations whatsoever. Let me elaborate.

I was raised Jewish. Any non-Jew in my family is not blood related to me. I am a blue blooded Jew (see what I did there?). That being said, I am the least Jewish person I know. Going to Temple has no appeal to me, I went to hebrew school for four months before dropping out, I've never been to Israel, and I don't keep kosher. To my grandmother's dismay, I've never even dated a Jew.

The crisis part comes from this problem: I don't want to be super Jewish, but people that aren't Jewish can't understand my background, and what it means to come from a Jewish family. Some examples:

1.) Why my grandparents called my cousins non-Jewish girlfriend a "shicksha".

2.) Why my grandmother told me that if I didn't marry a wealthy, Jewish, doctor, she wouldn't attend my wedding.

3.) Why we weren't allowed to have a Hannukah party on Christmas Eve (even though they fell on the same date).

4.) Why I have weird metal tubes in all of my doorways.

5.) Why one of the only foods I know how to make is Matzos ball soup.

6.) Yiddish. Just...yiddish.

7.) Why I will never find any sort of Holocaust related joke funny. Ever.

8.) Why I will find jokes about crazy Jewish families hilarious.

Aaaaaand you start to get the picture. There are intricities of Judaism that annoy and repel me, yet simultaneously tie me to a heritage that so few people can really understand.

Let's sum it up: Do I date a non-Jew and always feel out of place, or date a Jew and resent the annoyances of Judaism?

Vibe

2011-05-29T12:25:00.000-07:00

Last night I went out with old, great, friends. They both now live in LA but in high school, we were inseparable. In college, we all sort of lost touch, moving and finding new lives and new experiences, but last night proved that time means nothing with good friends.

We went out together and it was just like old times; no time had really passed at all. We stood by the bar, laughing, being goofy, having a great time. Another bar goer bought us all a round of drinks, to which we thanked him. E introduced herself and asked why he bought us the drinks.

"I just get a good vibe from you guys. You all seem like really good friends".

God Bless Maps

2011-05-27T17:01:00.000-07:00

Another thing: I literally cannot stop getting lost. Every time I get in my car to go somewhere, I am guaranteed to get lost at LEAST once before arriving at my intended destination. It's one of the most frustrating things on Earth, especially in a town where making a U-turn is damn near impossible. And going 5 minutes in the wrong direction could mean spending 20 minutes getting back to where you got lost in the first place. All I can say is know your freeways, use your Garmin, and look at your route ahead of time. Also, sigalert.com doesn't hurt.

First Celeb Sighting

2011-05-27T16:53:00.001-07:00

Walking with E down 3rd Street back towards Milk. As we walk by Toast, I spot a SEXY guy eating lunch at a back corner table on the patio. I take a closer look.

It's Paul Walker.

My first instinct is to let the guy eat in peace. My second instinct is to find the nearest seller of GHB and immediately attempt to slip it into his sandwich. Alas, I had to opt for the former option. I knew that KDK would be so upset (she was; she loves the Fast and the Furious), but I live in LA now. I reserve total starstruck behavior for the really big celebs: Angelina and Brad, Oprah, Verne Troyer.

Ain't No Party Like A West Coast Party

2011-05-26T08:08:00.000-07:00

So far my new life in LA has been pretty awesome. My first night out, E tells me to meet her at a bar downtown. I happily obliged, plugging in my trusty Garmin and adventuring out of the Valley for drinks. Alas, as soon as we get there, she informs me that the bar is packed, and that we're going somewhere else instead: a dance party in an abandoned warehouse.

.....um, excuse me? This is how 22-year-old girls get sold into sex slavery. This sounds like the beginning of a horror film. I obviously didn't object in any way, and we went along our merry way.

First off, you couldn't just DRIVE to the warehouse. You had to go, park your car in a gravel parking lot, then wait for a creepy, white van to come get you. The van took you to the warehouse, where you then got to either A.) take acid, or B.) watch everyone else take acid. I chose the latter.

In typical rave fashion, I got home at 4:30 am, exhausted, and thoroughly satisfied with my first night out.

Hats off!

2011-04-30T16:52:00.000-07:00

The Royal wedding hoopla gets me excited for a multitude of fashionable reasons, but one in particular is unique to this stately affair: HATS. Fascinators, bowlers, berets, you name it, I've seen it on a royal head in the crazy media attention that's been given to jolly old England.

Now, any old hat wont make the cut for the royals. One milliner stands about the rest, and his name is Philip Treacy. Treacy, an Irishman, studied Journalism (how nice), and now makes his hats for some of the biggest fashion houses of the world: Chanel, Dior, Valentino, you name it, he's made a headdress of some kind for them. One may say that the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton was less of a union of two souls for eternity, and more of a hat fashion show. I'd like to think the latter. Here are some of my favorite of Treacy's creations.

Sarah Jessica Parker wears Philip Treacy to the Sex and the City movie premiere. Look closely, the base of the hat is modeled to look like the top of an acorn!

Princess Beatrice, Prince William's cousin, at his Royal wedding on April 29, 2011. OK, I'll admit this looks a lot like a beige wreath on the front of her face, but for some reason, I like it. It's strange...but I like it.

Princess Eugenie at a wedding in 2008. This is by far my favorite of the Treacy masterpieces. So ornate and beautiful.

Atthismoment

2011-04-21T20:30:00.000-07:00

As I've already said, I'm obsessed with touchpuppet.com. Here is a compilation of some awesome photos I discovered that I will obviously share!

I am the Sun.

2011-04-20T23:42:00.000-07:00

All I heard was that I was "human and I [needed] to be loved". So what if it's by you? Thanks, Smiths.

Hateful Love

2011-04-19T14:04:00.000-07:00

One of my GUILTIEST pleasures. I guess not so guilty that I'm afraid to share it, but guilty enough that I know people will ridicule me (slightly). Here it is, folks: Touchpuppet.com. A site dedicated to fashion spreads, fashion photography, models, galore! It has been through this obsession that I've discovered a new favorite photographer of mine, a woman named Ellen Von Unwerth.

As an avid fashion magazine reader and fashion enthusiast, you come to expect the same types of things in fashion magazines: models in impossible outfits, models jumping, models in strange and exotic places...yeah, it starts to blend. But Von Unwerth has one complicating factor: a love of bondage. This mixture of the standard fashion shoot with bondage/eroticism caught my eye.

The above shot particularly caught my eye. The model, crawling on the floor, reminded me of another distinctly similar shot from a favorite movie of mine: Secretary.

The movie, starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader, chronicles the employment of masochistic Lee (Gyllenhaal), and her employer, Mr. Grey (Spader). Gyllenhaal leaves rehab for cutting herself and quickly finds herself working as not-your-average-typist. Their extreme relationship finally levels out until their daily routine, seemingly normal, is an absolutely hierarchy of pain-er and pain-ee. In the end, they act and look like totally normal people, but we know the truth about their sadomasochistic relationship.

iTunes says I've seen this movie 22 times, so it's fair to say I like it, and I haven't gotten sick of it (yet). There is something oddly attractive about Grey's hateful love towards Lee, when we know deep down that he loves her and wants to be with her. When Lee barricades herself in his office and refuses to leave until he comes for her, we see, clearly, her devotion. It's Grey's seeming hate that perplexes me. How, if you love someone, can you get pleasure out of hurting them?

This has also come up in my personal life while dealing with a good friends' weak spot for using whips. After discussing it, we both agree: It's hard. Neither of us are truly sadists at heart, so we tried to see it from every angle. At the end of the day, I have to give the sadist credit. I'm a pretty confident individual and I don't believe I have the gumption to hurt someone and enjoy it. Hats off to you!

A few deep breaths.

2011-04-18T12:37:00.001-07:00

"The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself"

Trying to take Baz Luhrmann's advice, because he's right: the road is, in fact, long (unless you get hit by a bus...knock on wood). The thing that seems really important right now isn't. Even though it seems reaaaaaally important right now. Like really important. Moral of the story: It's hard to have perspective when you're 22. Maybe in a few more years?

The Road Trip To Nowhere

2011-04-04T20:54:00.000-07:00

An enormous task looms in my immediate future: drive across the country, from Columbia, MO, to Los Angeles, CA. Obviously, I am not looking forward to it. E, the best friend a girl could ask for, offered to fly out to drive with me. Which would be nice, if it didn't come with a catch.

Prada. Marfa.

" Can we pleeeease go? It's, like, right outside of El Paso! It's Prada MARFA" (you can't understand how hilarious this is unless you hear E say this).

I have two questions to this: How far out of the way is this, and WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

OK, so. Basically. Prada Marfa is this permanent art installation in the middle of nowhere Texas (Marfa, TX, to be exact). It is meant to look like a Prada store, in the middle of nowhere. You can't go inside, but there are windows, and you can see into it. Inside are a few Prada handbags and a few left footed shoes. Seriously.

Secondly, this little trip would take us around 400 miles out of the way on our journey.

I love you, E, but...the Wikipedia pictures will suffice.

Something to think about

2011-03-28T23:23:00.000-07:00

So, it's no secret that my Dad is fucking intelligent. The other day we were having a conversation about death (it's also no secret that I have two fears in life: dying and running out of money), and he told me about an interesting BBC piece he heard on the radio. He said it was an interview with a scientist, and the scientist was talking about a lot of FAQs. One of them was his thoughts on whether or not there was life on other planets. He said, without a doubt, that not only is there life on other planets, but people exactly like us are living on other planets. Not just similar, I'm talking EXACT. Like a clone. And here's why:

1.) Space is infinite.

2.) The particles that make up you, me, etc. are arranged in such a way that they make US. I am made of particles, atoms, etc. that are formed in a specific way, making me, me.

3.) Think of a deck of cards. If you dealt the deck out infinitely, you would eventually deal the exact same hands twice, three times, etc. because there are only so many different combinations of cards that can be dealt; eventually, you deal the same exact thing again.

4.) The same principle that applies to the cards applies to matter. There are only so many ways to organize and arrange particles, and eventually, in the infiniteness of space, they will be arranged the same way. Thus, since I am made of particles (one dealing of cards), somewhere out there is another being that has the same arrangement of particles (that same hand of cards). Get it?

So, it brings me to this. There IS someone out there as amazing as me, doing the exact same thing I'm doing right now, right this second. My Leslie clone is writing a blog about me as I write a blog about her. We're both laying in bed, watching reruns of Family Guy, blogging about each other. I truly believe that. One thing I don't believe, though, is that she's as cool as I am, because obviously that's....impossible.

Scissor Me Timbers

2011-03-12T09:19:00.000-08:00

Scissor Sisters "Whole New Way" by romnrolla

(NOTE: This show was on March 11, write on March 12, and abandoned for two weeks. Forgive me, Jake?)

So last night I went to the best show I've been to since The Flaming Lips. With a hot lead vocalist, tight costumes and suggestive dancing, The Scissor Sisters are just what my pseudo-gay man alter ego loves. With hits like Take Your Mama Out and I Don't Feel Like Dancing, I was already excited for this show. But I'm also a fan of their lesser known stuff, a slow song called Mary and a pop-electric dance creation called Filthy/Gorgeous.

For this concert, I decided to do a little experiment. I wanted to try to capture my exact thoughts during the show. I'm familiar with the venue they were playing it, The Blue Note, and perched myself in the upper balcony to safely enjoy the show away from the crowd (I hate standing in the crowd). Here are my half-drunk notes.

"He (lead singer Jake Shears) wants to make me want him but he's gay this is cruel why is he doing this to me"

" He looks like Casey Affleck. Ana Matronic is his fruit fly, I like her costume. He's wearing latex. Gay Katy Perry outfit."

"HE JUST SAID GET REALLY BIG REALLY FAST. That's sassy!"

"Amazing, he likes Rocky Horror. His Rocky Horror character is Gorge. He just said so."

"How is he still wearing this latex body suit? He's overheating for my entertainment, how sweet of him!"

"This bodysuit reminds me of the red and black dress Cameron Diaz wore at the end of The Mask. I think this is the closest recreation of it I've ever seen!"

It was at this point that Shears (with co-lead Ana Matronic), started into one of my all-time favorite songs: Take Your Mama Out. I....can't describe it. Trying to describe it would do it zero justice and not even properly describe it. But let it be known: I can die happy.

The Most Extravagant Bathing Suits. Bam.

2011-03-10T10:54:00.000-08:00

It's bikini season. I'm starving myself and spending hours of time looking at half-naked women on victoriassecret.com and shopbop.com in the hopes of finding the perfect Spring Break swim gear. In my utter quest for beach perfection, I sometime indulge myself in the extravagance of high-priced swimwear. Here are some of my favorites:

1. Herve Leger, Black Bandage One-piece: $780.00. Neiman Marcus

I do love me so Herve Leger. Those bandage dresses are to die for. And I would die for.

2.) Missoni Bahia Fish Scale String Bikini, $445, Neiman Marcus

3.) Zimmermann Valentine Ladder Underwire Bikini, $230 (now $175), Zimmermann

4.) Missoni Zig Zag String Bikini, $370, Barneys

5.) Eres Les Essentiels Eode One-Piece, $305. Eres.

Spring is in the air

2011-03-05T21:27:00.000-08:00

Therefore I am freaking out about moving to LA and graduating. But one bright spot of hope: A cute ass swimsuit. Check out the top I just ordered from ASOS, my new favorite British-turned-USA store.

Should Have All That Power

2011-03-05T21:11:00.000-08:00

Last night I impatiently tapped my foot in the hopes that my friend would sense my anxiety and take me home. It was late, and I wanted to go. He knew, and as we waited for our other friends to finish their conversation, turned to me and asked if I knew how much power he had over the group. I was taken aback: this is the guy who gets dogged on by all the guys, definitely not the leader. I asked him why he thought he had the "power". He couldn't give me a straight answer, but attempted to prod the other members of the group to get them to go to express to me that he did, in fact, have such a power. Again, they ignored him and continued talking. Finally, after about another minute, he went over and told him we were leaving. No warning, no waiting, he told them we were leaving and headed for the door. I was not impressed.

Our friends dutifully followed, seeing that their ride was out-the-door. Of course, I thought, they are following him because he is L-E-A-V-I-N-G. If they don't, they're stranded at the bar. It got me thinking: outwardly, he seems like the one who does what everyone else does, not the ringleader. But when it comes down to it, when the rubber meets the road, he's driving (pun intended). He holds a powerful card in his hand, the fact that he's the driver. And it made me realize: this guy is ALWAYS the driver. This must be "his power".

Everyone has power, I suppose. My friend, although seemingly unassuming and soft spoken, wields the power of driving, thus always being included and decided when his friends leave to go to and from places. That's his power...so what's mine?

* My legs. When I walk, people stare. Men follow.

* My humor and wit. When I speak, people listen; and laugh.

* My fearlessness. Not afraid of a little confrontation, stating my opinion, speaking up, and doing exactly what I want, when I want it.

What's YOUR power? What do you wield? What makes me follow you?

What's a Fashionable Jew To Do?

2011-03-01T10:59:00.000-08:00

Approximately 3 minutes ago I read on CNN that John Galliano, head of the house of Christian Dior, was fired for allegedly making anti-semitic remarks on video. As a Jew, I find these remarks incredible offensive (something about "loving Hitler" and some people deserving to be gassed; truly offensive and not misconstrued as anything but). As an advertising and PR student, I am interested and concerned at how a.) John Galliano, and b.) Dior, will handle/respond to this situation. Lastly, as a fashion lover, I have conflicted feelings about how to think of Dior now as a fashion powerhouse.

Obviously, this post is a hodgepodge of different angles and concerns/thoughts on my part. Because I am scatter brained, I will delineate my feelings through bullet points.

*I find it highly ironic that Natalie Portman is the face of Miss Dior Cherie, Dior's premiere fragrance.

* Dior better come out with some incredibly heartfelt press release ASAP, because right now I am hating them (even though they fired Galliano). I also know they better seriously woo Miss AKS because she is a huge Dior lover/ huge Nazi hater.

* Fashion news is usually only newsworthy to fashionable folks. However, this is not just fashion news: this is news about a major figure in our culture being axed due to heinous remarks. This is NOT about fashion anymore, but about hate.

* I find it strange that a gay man is a Nazi? Not just strange but incredibly counterintuitive?

* Galliano's creative genius is at stake in my mind. I am dismissing anything I've ever liked about him because of this incident.

Probably more to come later, these are just my immediate reactions to this situation. Very interested to hear what comes out from both camps regarding his termination; and the timeliness of said statements.

Resume Experiment

2011-02-21T23:02:00.000-08:00

Testing new tech... Watch this!

Things I've Collected Over Time

2011-02-20T18:12:00.001-08:00

Third Eye Blind

2011-02-16T09:24:00.000-08:00

Alright, I'll admit: I'm judging myself a little for this, too. A friend of mine once asked me if I liked crystal meth, too, when I said I loved Third Eye Blind. Yeah, I get it, it's a super cliche of the 90's, but I don't give a shit.

Here's a list of my favorite TEB songs:

-Graduate

-I Want You

-Semi-Charmed Life

-1000 Julys

- Bonfire

Get on the fucking bandwagon, people. Put on your flannel button-down from Abercrombie, take out your guitar that you can't even play, and relive 1995 with me.

Kuwait?

2011-02-15T22:05:00.001-08:00

Very surprised to see that I get page views from Kuwait. A few from South Africa, too. I want to know? What do you Kuwaitians and South Africans wanna hear from me? I pander to your needs and no one else's. Please, I want feedback on this!

While I wait for my international fan base to respond, I'd like to take some time out to give you some doodling ideas. When I'm in class bored to smithereens, I doodle. Here are some ideas:

-Write a poem about how bored you are.

- Write "kill me" over and over again, each time making it a little doodle-ier

- I draw a lot of octopi. Doing all sorts of things

- Draw your teacher as something else: I took a class on Andrew Jackson last semester and focused all of my attention on creating a comic featuring my dullasdirt professor as a: bride, cheerleader, train conductor, girl scout, etc. He had a lot of professions...

- Ask yourself some strange question and then draw the answer: What if the North Pole were underwater? What if everything were made of jell-o? What if your dog were your siamese twin?

Just a few things to keep in mind before they admit you to the psych ward.

Russell Brand on SNL

2011-02-13T21:02:00.000-08:00

Watched good ol' @rustyrockets on SNL last night and just fell even more in love. I think my favorite sketch of the night was "Vacation Giveaway", but not because it was Brands finest performance. Actually, I think he was pretty lackluster, but Kristin Wiig was hilarious and even gingerly pats Brands crotch (in an effort to find out if he's wet himself with excitement). I think the best part of the whole thing, however, was Brands attempt at an American accent; not only that, but a SOUTHERN/hillbilly accent. What do you think?

http://www.hulu.com/watch/215170/saturday-night-live-vacation-giveaway#continuous_play=on

P.S. His opening monologue is also hilarious, where he mimicks Katy Perry's voice.

Satisfaction

2011-02-13T19:36:00.000-08:00

Watching the Grammy Awards tonight reminds me of a specific incident in my childhood. I believe it is the first time I consciously remember hearing about The Rolling Stones. My parents were going to a Stones concert with their friends, Mindy and Tommy Gall. Their daughter Melissa is around my age, so we had a sleepover at her house (with a babysitter in tow). As our parents got ready for the show (what I can most certainly identify now as pregaming), I distinctly remember Tommy Gall dancing like Mick Jagger. Mindy, giving him a stern look, demanded he stop dancing (it was lewd, and we were no more than 7-years-old). I remember hating her a little for stopping him; what was he mimicking and why was it so bad?

After my parents got back from the show, my Mom had a brand new "Forty Licks" t-shirt, covered in the classic Stones tongues. I asked her what it was, and she explained it was from the show; this band called the Rolling Stones. We had obviously listened to "Satisfaction" many times in the car, but I had no idea what it was or who sang it (it wasn't Wheels on the Bus, so I didn't give a shit). I asked her to show me a picture of The Rolling Stones, to which she happily obliged. And there they were: Keith, Mick, and some other band members I can't remember. But what I do remember? Keith Richards' leathered face. The deep wrinkles, the creases and sunken eyes. And from this, the utterance which my Mother will never forget:

"Mom, they're so old. They should be called the Eroding Stones".

And from then until high school, I couldn't care less.

I wish there was some way I could tell 7-year-old Leslie that 22-year-old Leslie finds something sexy about Mick Jagger; how unabashedly sexual his music is, the fact that he wed a fashion icon, Jerry Hall. Even now, he's still kind of hot. Especially tonight. Listening to the Rolling Stones (and Aerosmith, but that's a different matter), makes me wish more than anything that I could have lived in the 70's. When rockstars partied their faces into a numb oblivion, vinyl records stacked the walls of crowded apartments, and manual cars were not relics of the past. Yes, I would like to avoid the mustard-and-lime color schemes, but everything else I am envious of.

It makes me wonder what kids of the future will say about my generation: Will they envy me for growing up in the 90's? For the beanie babies, emergence of cell phones, and Spice Girl mania? They fucking better.

God?

2011-02-12T16:01:00.000-08:00

If you do nothing else today, pray for Elizabeth Taylor, my lord and savioress.

Final answer

2011-02-10T20:54:00.000-08:00

I've decided that I don't like Christina Hendricks. Her tits are the only thing propelling her, which is ironic because they are huge and most likely weigh the poor thing down. Maybe it's because of what other people say about her, not necessarily anything she's done, but I just dislike her. She's riding on her body, not her talent. Sorta like Megan Fox, only not as hot. And her tits kind of gross me out to be honest. They're just...too big.

Eclectic Movie Watching

2011-02-10T16:47:00.000-08:00

Lately, I've been forgoing my tendency to notstopmoving in order to do something most people find simple and entertaining: watch movies. Since Monday I've watched FOUR whole movies, and I am so proud of myself.

1.) We Don't Live Here Any More- Naomi Watts, Mark Ruffalo, two other people who look vaguely familiar but I can't name for certain...was a decent enough movie, I guess. The characters were semi-pathetic and Naomi Watts' husband was unrealistically cold and detached from his wife. Come on, who lets their best friend have an affair with their wife and truly "not care"? Kind of dumb.

2.) The Fountain- A visually appealing sci-fi thriller, starring Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. She has cancer, he wants to save her, she writes a story about him finding the tree of life, he may-or-may-not have found the tree of life...strange story.

3.) Eyes Wide Shut- OK, so everyone always talks about this movie, so I watched it. First of all, it's 158 minutes long (2 hours, 38 minutes). A real challenge for my ADD moving watching experience. However, it is so filled with sex and insanity that I lasted the entire time. Basically, Tom Cruise is a rich, New York doctor, and Nicole Kidman is his dopey wife. She fantasizes about sailors, he takes a walk and ends up at a cult-sex orgy, she wears hideous, small, round eyeglasses.

4.) Valley of the Dolls- I chose this one because it has the late Sharon Tate in it, and since I'm obsessed with the Manson murders I had to watch. Basically, small town girl moves to the "Big City", meets hunky agent and two other girls trying to make it in show biz, gets jilted, finds another man, goes back to the old man, gets jilted again. All while the other girls are getting famous and taking a lot of red sleeping pills and Sherry. Oh, and Tate's Mom continuously tells her she has no talent and is only good for her body.

Any suggestions are welcome for my next flick.

McQueen Summer 2011

2011-02-09T20:03:00.001-08:00

Drooling, sweating, pissing myself over this Alexander McQueen.

Jennifer's Body

2011-02-07T21:24:00.000-08:00

OK, so I have a knack for wanting to see absolutely awful movies that are secretly awesome. Spiceworld, I Know Who Killed Me, and now... Jennifer's Body. Yes, the girl-monster flick starring Amanda Seyfried and Megan Fox. Basically, Megan Fox is a heartless man-killer, eating and decapitating high school jocks. Yeah, it's awful. I'm not going to turn it off, though.

UPDATE: Megan Fox just said some girl is "half sushi" and, "has sex through a blowhole or something". BOX OFFICE GOLD. Please, don't eat Adam Brody, girl. Not before I get a whack at him, please? Spare him? Not Seth Cohen!

Deep sigh of relief

2011-02-03T20:53:00.000-08:00

I remember my sophomore year of high school, I made the ill-fated decision to date one my dearest friends. Of course, I was still terrified of boys at this point, and dumped him after three weeks. As soon as he was my boyfriend I wanted nothing to do with him (probably because we're best friends and it was incestuous). Anyway, I finally dumped him, and immediately after I had the most euphoric feeling of relief. THANK GOD. Just a weight off my chest completely.

Strangely, after a day or two of being broken up, I began to miss him and doubt the validity of my feelings to break up with him. I begged him to take me back, but he declined. Oh, young romance....(also must add that we are still best friends and I'd give him a kidney).

Anyway, the point of this story is that I don't know if this feeling goes away. A friend of mine broke up with a guy she was seeing and described this exact feeling, and I'm afraid she may have the sinking doubt I had. Don't doubt it, baby gale.

Another note for the day: It's fucking awesome to have friends who get deets on guys for you. Loose lipped men and good friends.

Tips for surviving an apocalyptic snow storm

2011-02-02T15:26:00.000-08:00

So, for the first time in my life here in Missouri, I am in the midst of a snow storm. Not just a regular snow storm, but an actual, certifiable blizzard. Needless to say, three snow days in a row can turn a sane dame mad. Here are some tips for surviving blizzards.

1.) Sleep in. The less day you have to spend miserable, the better. Get comfy in your bed, for god's sake!

2.) When you do have to be conscious, watch a movie (or two, or three...). I am a person who cannot sit still for any reason, so it's a challenge to sit down and watch a movie. However, I've made a concerted effort during the past 48 hours and have actually sat through a lot of movies I'm glad to have seen. These are: The People vs. Larry Flynt, An Education, and Quills. I highly recommend all of them.

3.) Take some pictures of the snow and send them to people who don't live in Missouri. Hey, if they want to be jealous of my woes, let 'em!

4.) Paint your nails, D-I-L-I-G-E-N-T-L-Y. I'm talking beyond manicure quality. You know you don't have to be anywhere, so you can just sit still and not smudge them like a putz.

5.) Read a book. You know you have a bunch of half-read books sitting on your desk, so fucking finish them and attempt to be more intelligent.

6.) Download some new music. Seriously, open iTunes, and go nuts. Here are some songs you need to download:

- Help I'm Alive, Metric

- Caught Up In The Cycle, Nights and Weekends

- Oh My God (Kaiser Chiefs Cover), Lily Allen

7.) Practice a British accent. Get really good at it, then try your skills out at a bar! Yeah, I've definitely been hit on by faux British guys before, and I can't say I hate it. Go ahead, take a risk.

8.) Google pictures of the Olsen twins. Fall even more in love with them, I dare ya.

9.) Have a dance party in your bikini. There aren't a lot of opportunities now to wear hot swimwear, so take advantage of your deteriorating mental state due to cabin fever and dance away.

10.) DO NOT EAT YOUR ROOMMATES. Just sayin'. It may seem like a good idea while you're doing it, but man...they just don't taste that great.

Awards Seasonings: The SAG Awards

2011-01-30T20:17:00.000-08:00

Here we are, 2011, looking at the SAG Awards once again. A quick glance would prove a lot of neutral/nude-y colors, and general snoozing. None of these dresses are really wowing me, and I'm very disheartened. With this, we'll begin.

*Jennifer Lawrence, Oscar de la Renta

I give this newcomer props for such a stand-out dress; the shocking pink color is definitely a standout. Although I admire her choice for its daring cutouts and asymmetrical neckline, it almost looks like she got into a fight and someone ripped the neck up. Maybe a little too sporadic for my taste. I think her choice of lip color could also have been better thought out; I'm thinking baby pink or nude lips, rather than this reddish, natural shade (is she wearing lipstick, even?)

* Annette Bening, Tony Ward Couture

The actress, nominated for her lead actress role in The Kids Are Alright, looks graceful and tasteful. The embellished neckline and elegant sloping neckline is classic; incredibly elegant. Can't say it enough. The texture of the dress is very greek-esque, and the column silhouette is (wait for it), so damn elegant!

* Christina Hendricks, L'Wren Scott

Sweet Jesus, where do I begin with this train wreck. The eye makeup, the dress....it just screams trashywhoregotlooseontheredcarpet. That dress looks like a thick, black, sparkly bath robe. She looks like she wore her slutty bath robe to the SAG awards. And that eye makeup? So thick, it's overpowering her face with sluttiness. I think Hendricks forgot about the awards, got all slutted up and ready for a sexy night in with her boyfriend, then got a call from her publicist that she forgot about the SAG awards and was needed at the Shrine Theater immediately (no time to change).

*Mila Kunis, Alexander McQueen

I love it. This print is so characteristic of McQueen, especially in his final season last winter. The red, flowing gown is flattering, gorgeous, and doesn't match the red carpet (take note, Margulies).

*Hailee Steinfeld, Prada

This dress is perfect for a 14-year-old! It screams teenager, it's age appropriate, it's fun and bright and just adorable. The colors are great, and I think I'd still adore it even if it wasn't on a freshman-aged girl. Love love love it. Makes me want to go eat a popsicle in a sundress.

*Julianna Margulies, Yves Saint Laurent

Question of the day: Where does Margulies' dress end and the red carpet begin? It's absolutely the exact same color. She brought the red carpet with her and will take it into the theater because it's connected to her dress. Seriously, squint really hard, I still bet you can't see the break in carpet/dress. I will say that the neckline is fabulous, the hair and makeup is also spot on: I just wish this dress were navy or emerald green. Why, why?!

That scene in American Pie

2011-01-21T20:18:00.001-08:00

When they give the kid the laxatives and he shits his brains out in the girls bathroom is absolutely the foulest thing on Earth.

Don't take it too seriously.

2011-01-15T16:34:00.000-08:00

When you start worrying, just stop. Think about what you're worrying about, think about what it means in the grand scheme of things, and then, cease and desist. Sometimes, being carefree is the best remedy. It'll lead you to great things, I promise. Find success in the most unexpected of places. Seriously, try it.

And another thing:

2011-01-13T23:21:00.001-08:00

Listen to Believe by The Bravery. Fucking. Amazing.

My life on paper

2011-01-13T23:07:00.000-08:00

I think that resumes are an awful way to get a good feel for a person. Just saying.

Today, as I send nearly 50 resumes to PR agencies in LA, I see the things missing in my resume. Of course, they're things that I wish were on there.

"Take your camp counselor experience off. It's irrelevant."

Holy. Shit.

It's a blow to the face. It really is.

How can one of the most influential experiences of my entire life not be on my resume?

I contemplated it. I really thought about it. I saw it from their perspective and mine. And I agree. I guess it's not relevant to PR. From an outsiders perspective.

PR is the use of your people skills. Of your less-than-devils-advocate-skills to influence people. Oh baby, I've got those. And guess what: I learned a lot of them at SUMMER CAMP.

Unless you've been there, you don't know what it's like to convince 10, 9-year olds to love each other. What it's like to influence a group of 15-year old girls to think that they're perfect. You wouldn't get it unless you did it. You wouldn't get it unless you were there, and I get that. But it still pisses me off.

Wizard of Oz Cards

2011-01-12T12:47:00.000-08:00

Some Wizard of Oz inspired designs I made. Some are Birthday related (that was what I was supposed to be doing for these...but I got sidetracked).

Wasn't I lucky to be born in my favorite city?

2011-01-08T00:23:00.000-08:00

Some may say that you shouldn't be able to live in St. Louis if you haven't seen Meet Me In St. Louis, starring the darling Judy Garland. That being said, now that I've moved away from St. Louis forever, it seems as good a time as any to watch the movie for the first time. However, I'm only ten minutes in and I'm already finding incredible inconsistencies.

First: This movie begins during the summer. Here's what a summer in St. Louis feels like: hot, soggy air. Like a gnome farting on you, all day, every day. Hot, yes, but not just hot; humid. What do they say, "it's not the heat, it's the humidity"?

So, can someone please explain to me why Judy Garland is wearing this:

While I wore this:

And by "this", I mean t-shirts, every day, and if you got too hot you played in the mud. Yes, we played in the mud, like swine. Very spoiled swine. But I'm getting off topic: St. Louis. ST. LOUIS.

My reasoning for watching this film is not actually because I'm afraid the Mayor is going to hunt me down and revoke my rights as citizen of St. Louis. No, unfortunately, he has East St. Louis to deal with and I'm very low on his priority list. It's more nostalgia, something I can take with me to the other places I'm headed.

As graduation approaches, it's becoming realer and realer that this place that I know, so intimately well, will no longer be an integral part of my life. My parents packed up and left a year ago, and now I have only my best friends to visit.

When you've grown up in the same place all your life, the city becomes a sort of asset. You feel you have some ownership, some right to the place. When I go back to visit, it feels incredibly uncomfortable and almost distressing that I no longer have a place there called "home". I half expect to be able to walk into a hotel, flash my I'm-from-St. Louis-badge at some perky concierge, and be given a suite. I think my city owes me that. After all the years I've spent there, it owes me something. It owes me something because it's mine.

I'm also beginning to realize that when I leave, the city wont be leaving with me. The landmarks, roads, and familiar faces wont come with me, conveniently packed in my duffle bag to show the new people I meet wherever I go. I can't pull out my favorite house on McKnight Road to show a friend. I can't show my new employer the Arch, as we drive by it on highway 40. It wont be an hour and a half ride from Mizzou to St. Louis, to show off my hometown to my curious new friends. No, it will be google pictures, 1700-mile plane rides, and poorly executed half-drunk attempts at telling stories about incidents that are really only funny if you know exactly where and why they happened.

And lastly, there are the people within the city. The people you know you will probably never see again. That if you didn't go back to that city, it may be the end of the road, you know? That unless you make a concerted effort to go back with the sole purpose of seeing the people you grew up with, then they become a part of the past, plastic figurines. You tell stories about them, but they don't exist anymore.

I think what it amounts to is this: When I lived there, I wanted to leave. When I got slightly farther away, I got slightly more affectionate. And now, with plans to move across the country, to a city that doesn't know me, I'm all out panicking. What if St. Louis forgets me? What if I get to a new place, and we don't agree with one another, get into some blown out fight and I storm out. And I pack my things and mutter to myself about how MY city would never treat me this way, MY city is much better. But what's the use? It isn't mine anymore.

Entourage

2011-01-05T22:04:00.001-08:00

This show is addictive. This show is popular. This show is one giant product placement for the city of Los Angeles.

I am falling for it...hard.

I want to hate Natalie Portman. I really do.

2011-01-05T20:12:00.000-08:00

But she's just so damn talented and hilarious. I was youtubing Swan Lake Ballet videos trying to see what real ballerinas dancing the scores looked like and came across a video of Portman on the David Letterman show. This, of course, spiraled into me watching her on a slew of late night programs, and still, not one reason to hate her. She likes food. She's funny. I hate her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3MyDefuzhAs&NR=1&feature=fvwp

I have to add

2011-01-03T22:38:00.000-08:00

Alright by Supergrass. God I love Clueless. I reference it daily. Holy shit...OK, comprehensive Clueless blog post coming soon.

Old Sounds New

2011-01-03T22:21:00.000-08:00

So, I don't know about y'all, but I've had my computer wiped once or twice. You know, a virus, or something shitty happens, and....shit's gone. Well, this happened to me freshman year of college, and I lost 90% of the music on my itunes account. Yes, it sucked tremendously.

I do think that it could be a blessing in disguise, though. Because when you hear songs you used to have and lost, it's the most incredibly exciting feeling in the world. And you're like "I KNOW I had this song, how did I forget about it?!". And then you download it and voile, it's like-new again. Here are a few songs that this has happened to me with recently.

Roam- B-52's

Staring at the Sun- TV on the Radio

The entire Walk to Remember soundtrack. Shaming will commence...now.

Jump- Van Halen

Semi Charmed Life- Third Eye Blind

Candy in the Sun- Swirl 360

Where'd You Go- The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

Yeah, there are a ton more, but these old ass songs are on the absolutely forefront of my mind because of this insane phenomenon. Like silver polish for music.

Black Swan Review

2011-01-03T14:23:00.001-08:00

Finally saw Black Swan last night, and have to say that it was a little underwhelming. Perhaps it was because I've been hearing that it's gods gift to theater-goers for about a month or so, but I left feeling less than shocked. She'd been having schizophrenic flashes and fantasies the entire movie. You're shown the dichotomy of what she thinks/wants to do to herself, and then what is actually happening. In showing us right away that it's all in her head, the shock at the end is not very shocking.

Both Mila Kunis and Natalie Portman looked great in the movie (although I read an article with Mila Kunis for Nylon Magazine where she said she weighed around 100 pounds for the role). They played convincing ballerinas, not actresses playing ballerinas. They very well MADE the movie, turning it into film festival caviar.

On the surface, the movie attacks the issue of dueling personalities within one body, but deeper I think is the issue that we're simply killing ourselves to succeed, and that a person is their own worst enemy. I think the idea that we'll do anything, be anything, sacrifice anything to get some goal is very real, and seemingly scary. A person can go mad with jealousy and power hunger, and especially as I approach graduation in 5 months, these messages are all the more poignant.

I never noticed...

2011-01-03T14:17:00.000-08:00

But Ben Stiller is fucking ripped. Let's think about it:

Heavy Weights

Dodgeball

Zoolander

Tropic Thunder

I'm sure he was ripped in all the other movies he did, but these are the ones where he really shows off the goods.

I'm sorry, what?

2010-12-29T11:35:00.001-08:00

when Martin Luther King Jr. gave his "I Have A Dream" speech, I don't think he envisioned me, a white Jewish girl, getting an "MLKJ Pub Crawl" invitation on Facebook. Personally, I wasn't expecting it either. I don't know what about racial equality warrants a pub crawl, but it's kind of tacky. Sorry, pub crawlers.

Let's just all calm down here.

2010-12-29T11:31:00.000-08:00

I think social networking scares a lot of people; namely, my Dad. We continue to have this Facebook-ruining-the-world debate, and I've thought of another argument against him.

Once upon a time, this guy, I forget his name because it was pretty inconsequential, invented this thing called the TELEPHONE. It more or less revolutionized communication and made the world a bit smaller than before. Now, let's move to....right now.

Facebook. Revolutionizing communication, blah blah. We've seen this before. From two tin cans connected by string to two Facebook friends connected by mutual Facebook friends, this is simply just a step towards communication advancement. Facebook is changing the world, sure, but it is not responsible for the apocalypse. If anything is responsible for that, it's Crocs. Ugliest shoes known to man, I'm certain. So, don't worry folks. Facebook, Twitter, Linkedin, Foursquare, etc. are all a bit daunting and scary, but I promise that it's nothing we haven't handled as human beings before.

The Winner's Circle

2010-12-28T22:46:00.000-08:00

So, it's the end of the year. It's my favorite time because not only can you write off an ENTIRE YEAR and put complete stock in the next one, you can also look back and reminisce about the good, the bad, and the Balenciaga. Here are some highlights of 2010's fashion year. It's not necessarily a top 10-style list like I'm used to, because I don't think any one fashion/person is better than the other. Simply highlight reel.

The Lady Gaga Meat Dress

Say what you want about Lady Gaga. Say what you want about meat. The fact of the matter is, the use of creativity on this one is off the fucking charts. Meat? Who would have EVER thought to make a dress out of MEAT. Probably not me, and I can get pretty crafy when I want to. Also, I think there's a solid argument for wearing fur vs. wearing meat? IS there really an ethical difference? (aside from smelling like putrid meat, I suppose).

Katy Perry firing on all cylinders

Listening to Katy Perry's newest album, Teenage Dream, is like sticking your hands into an empty bag of Sour Patch Kids, getting the leftover sugar on your fingers, licking your fingers, and then having sticky hands.
Well, this year, looking at her was like that to. With endless candy motifs (California Gurls), to latex dresses patterned with cotton candy and gumballs, to a bright blue wig, Katy Perry was like candy binging for your eyes.

Balenciaga's crazy-ass lucite-loafers-pumps-platforms-etc.

Let's see how many different elements we can cram onto one shoe. Gotta hand it to them, doesn't look half bad.

Alexander McQueen

Serious shock waves were sent when designer Alexander McQueen tragically killed himself this spring. An incredibly talented, bizarre, and visionary designer was lost, and sadly, no matter who runs the McQueen line now, the original mind behind the brand is gone. In the year of his death, McQueen will probably be most remembered for his insanely tall and oddly shaped "armadillo" shoes. His resort collection, filled with electric colors and art deco/Greek-inspired geometric textiles, is also not to be forgotten.

Silly Bandz- not so silly.

Where the HELL did this phenomenon come from? One second it's the end of spring semester and my friend KDK shoes me these cute rubber bands shaped like animals that her Mom got her. Two months later I'm in LA and everyone's arms are coated in powdered latex animals, shapes, flowers, you name it. They're distributed by BCP Imports and were originally a Japanese concept (figures) for a more eco-friendly rubber band.
In the tech-age, it's very refreshing to see such a low-tech toy getting such a following. It reminds me of the good old days when we traded Pokemon cards, jelly roll pens, and pogs. Ah, the good old days...
Now, upon further review, some may wonder why I've included a child-centric product on a list with Alexander McQueen. Like McQueen, these bands have been seen on numerous celebs, like one Sarah Jessica Parker (a big McQueen fan). If it's good enough for Carrie Bradshaw, then it's fashion.

The year that Ed Hardy (hopefully) died.

You had enough, Ed Hardy? After frequent appearances on such programs as The Jersey Shore and The Real Housewives of New Jersey, I think the brand has done enough damage to one state. Come on now, it was one of the original 13 colonies for Christ sake! Anyway, I think this is the year that it dies. I really do. I think fashionably challenged residents of South Beach and The Situation have collectively ruined this brands rep for good, and I can't say I'm upset. I just hope that I'm right, that it's really....the end.

Pixie Cuts

I just want to publicly say that I started the pixie cut trend this year. Let me lay this out for you:

April 2010- I shave my head. The extreme-pixie.

August 2010- Harry Potter star Emma Watson copies me. Deliberately.

October 2010- After a skype session with Emma, Ashlee Simpson-Wentz decides to copy me, too.

Hay-tee-ans

2010-12-27T19:34:00.000-08:00

So, OK, like right now for example, the Haitians need to come to America. But some people are all, "what about the strain on OUR resources?". But it's like, when I had this garden party for my father's birthday right, I said RSVP because it was a sit-down dinner. But people came that like, did NOT RSVP. So I was like, totally buggin'! I had to haul ass to the kitchen, redistribute the food, squish in extra place settings; but by the end of the day it was like, the more, the merrier! And so, if the government could just get to the kitchen, rearrange some things, we could certainly party with the Haitians. And in conclusion, may I please remind you that it does NOT say RSVP on the STATUE of LIBERTY!

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

2010-12-22T20:15:00.000-08:00

So, I started this blog to write about fashion, and occasionally discuss the inner workings of my mind. Lately (for about the past SIX MONTHS), it has become almost entirely innards and no fashion. Well, I'd like to get back to my roots today, at least for one post, and discuss some fashion.

With Christmas and New Years Eve fast approaching, people begin to worry what they'll wear for big, celebratory nights out. Although I can't comment on what's Christmas appropriate (for me, Christmas outfits amount to a pair of track shorts and an oversized tee), I can comment on what could be my favorite holiday of all: New Years Eve.

First, let me tell you what goes through my mind while preparing for New Years. Daft Punk's "One More Time" on repeat, 3+ bottles of Andre (cheap champagne that everyone should enjoy), fake eyelashes, and sequins. Lots. of. sequins. Absolutely everything should be coated in glitter, and unlike Halloween, you can wear WHATEVER you want and you don't even have to have any explanation for it. You're celebrating, that's why.

Here is a list of things to consider when dressing (and preparing) yourself for New Years Eve.

1.) Honestly, it's the only night that you can wear over one pound of glitter and it's socially acceptable.

2.) Again, unlike Halloween, you can wear whatever you want. Absolutely anything. And no one can tell you it's wrong or doesn't make sense. The point is not to dress up as a specific person or character (unless you want it to be), but simply to celebrate and go all-out.

3.) Don't forget to put your underwear on. More often than not, something crazy will happen (i.e. streaking, jumping half naked into DB's hot tub, etc.), and it could really aid you to have your panties on and ready for excitement.

4.) Don't forget to eat at LEAST something, and drink water. New Years is a night where the goal is to stay up as late as possible and keep the party going, so don't bitch out at 11 PM because you didn't EAT all day and are passed out in the back of someone's car. Also, it's a perk to at least semi-remember the night's festivities. No, that doesn't mean you shouldn't make out with someone because you were drunk. That is perfectly acceptable.

5.) Make sure there's someone you're with that you can kiss at midnight, even if it is your best friend and it's absolutely platonic. There's nothing sadder than standing around awkwardly while everyone has a New Year's kiss. I'm decently prude and awkward, but for this even I can't make an excuse.

6.) Try not to barf. Just.....try not to barf.

7.) Even if you aren't drinking, be crazy. Come on, it's New Years! No wet blankets. There will be no excuses whatsoever.

8.) Take pictures! New Years pictures are the best. One of my favorite pictures of myself is from New Years my senior year of high school. You always look fabulous, and so does everyone else!

9.) Keep in the back of your mind that the next day, it will be January, undoubtedly the shittiest month of the year, and therefore you should live it up.

10.) Try and be with as big a group as possible. Keep the cattiness to a minimum and just have a good time, alright?!

Klossed Part II

2010-12-21T14:56:00.000-08:00

I've blogged about St. Louis native Karlie Kloss before; she's a top supermodel of the decade and she's only a senior in high school. The other day, a good friend of mine ran into her at the St. Louis Galleria, ironically in a boutique that was my first job when I was in high school.

My friend called me to see if she should go up and say hi. Obviously, I told her to fucking do it. And, she did! She said Karlie was what everyone says she is: incredibly sweet, talkative, and nice. Doesn't that just kill you?

Inapro-pro

2010-12-21T14:35:00.000-08:00

I'm making a list of things I've done that were really inappropriate.

1.) Once, I got very drunk on my day off and smashed my face into something (still don't know what). The next morning, my face was bruised and scabbed. Told my campers that I tripped while running on the beach. Fail.

2.) One time in 7th grade I farted, and it smelled terrible, and I blamed it on this other kid. He started crying. In my defense, though, he was a total douche and still is to this day.

3.) Last week at work, my coworker told me that she and her girlfriend were probably going to move in together. When her girlfriend showed up to say hi at work, the first words out of my mouth were, "So, I hear you and M are moving in together!". Apparently, it hadn't really been discussed yet. Oops.

4.) After we put our cat to sleep, I didn't want to start crying, so instead I announced that there was "no point in petting a dead cat", and walked out of the vet's office.

5.) I wear incredibly loud, clunky shoes to the Journalism school. The floors there are all marble, and I sure do annoy everyone with my loud footsteps.

6.) When I went to the AT&T store to get a new phone, I didn't have an upgrade, but my brother did. I took it. I didn't tell him.

7.) Two New Years Eves ago I made out with my best friend. I think it could be considered rape in some states, because I don't think she was very willing.

8.) I refer to my Mom as my "life partner" when introducing her to new people.

9.) I carry my dog around singing, "Oh come let us adore him...."

After reviewing this list, I realize that some of my inappropriate behavior is just flat out sinful. Oops.

Day 2

2010-12-21T11:04:00.001-08:00

Still bored. Coming to the realization that although my parents now live in the beach, they also live in the middle of nowhere. It takes 30 minutes to get anywhere worthwhile, and I'm slowly going mad. I've even resorted to going to a driving range to try my hand at golf (highly unsuccessful). I've made a list of New Years resolutions, obviously it didn't take much time because let's face it, I'm damn near perfect. When I'm bored, I often start thinking of the "what-ifs" of life.

What if car tires were made of jell-o?

What if dogs were horses and horses were dogs?

What if we never peed? Like, everything we took in, we kept. At my age, how big would I be? I'd be so full of pee. As big as a house, I'm not sure, but certainly large. Very, very large.

What if bears had wings? And you'd see a pack of bears flying in a v-formation through the sky. And if you hit a bear because it was flying too low, holy balls. You would die, certainly.

OK, so my Mom has asked onetoomanytimes for me to come keep her company, and I threatened to tie her up and throw her in a lagoon on the golf course. She is quite cross. I must go and attempt to remedy the situation. Man, my mouth sure does get me in trouble...

Say Cheese

2010-12-20T10:18:00.000-08:00

I've been in college and away from my parents for 3.5 years now, and I'm coming to a startling realization: Ever since my brother and I left, my parents have nothing in their fridge but cheese.

Brie. Gouda. Cheddar. Extra Sharp Cheddar. Muenster. Swiss. That's not even all of it, either. I wonder why finally fending for themselves has rendered them so helpless? Perhaps, though, I've got it all wrong. Perhaps my parents have always only wanted to eat cheese, but having children got in the way of that. They realized that if they fed their kids only cheese that we would have chronic constipation and Child Protective Services would cart us away. Either way, I'm concerned for their health. But not their bones, because let's face it, all that cheese is making them more durable than a Nalgene bottle wrapped in packing peanuts.

If they loved you before, they're still gonna love you.

2010-12-20T09:40:00.000-08:00

My Dad is very concerned with social networking. It scares him that everything is on the internet, and we have relatively different takes on it.

Dad: All your shit's on the internet. Doesn't that scare you?

Me: It's an opportunity for someone (namely, potential employers) to get to know me, and further fall in love with me. Who wouldn't?

If they didn't like me before, my facebook picture of me and Gandhi isn't going to change that. Conversely, one keg stand is not going to hinder my climbing of the corporate ladder.

I have this theory. In the age of social networking, virtually everyone's "everything" is online. Everyone's bad prom pictures from five years ago, everyone's first shot, everyone's scantily-clad Halloween, etc. So, in this age, when everyone's got their shit hanging out, it's not a matter of what people can see, it's how bad it is in comparison to everyone else's.

So, Dad, since I know that someday, somehow, you will see this, I think you're wrong. But just in case you're not, I want to go on the record as saying that I think you were totally right the entire time.

Why we should all laugh at our short, batshit crazy lives.

2010-12-20T00:20:00.000-08:00

Do you think you're an artist, and because of this you're insane, or that because you're insane, you're an artist? I don't think all insane people are artists, and I don't think that artists start out insane but slowly grow into it. I say all of this because my best friend, A, is the greatest artist on Earth, and she just wrote an insane thesis that I'd like to repost because I just loved it so much. I will interject in red when I really want to comment.

You Will Die

(In the next hundred years or less, you will be dead.)

I am sure that while you know this, you may have convinced yourself that death is nothing but a bad rumor (I at first thought this said tumor). But every day you walk around with your heartbeat ticking like a fucked up kitchen timer. A faulty machine, grafted to a frame of waxy bones, twisted together by tendon and sinew. A suit you wear until it falls apart and you are old and you do not really care anymore (I picture myself old, standing naked next to a ratty suit. I'm pleased that I'm naked).

You’re walking…and you don’t always realize it but you’re always falling. With each step…you fall. You fall forward a short way and then catch yourself. Over and over…you are falling…and then catch yourself. You keep falling and catching yourself and falling. And this is how you are walking and falling at the same time. (You clumsy fuck).

You catch yourself over and over, yet with each bend of the knee, you are gradually wearing down. Interlocking mechanical joints trying to fight gravity and friction. Grooved levers that scrape together when they probably should not. Muscles balance and counterbalance, involuntary, slow twitch, fast twitch. A sore black spot sits like a bruise between your femur and tibia.

Your veins slip and slide beneath skin, rolling in the crook of your arm. Pushing blood through your body, if you are very still you can feel it. You can feel the acids in your stomach, hear them roiling around. A muscle twitches for an instant and then settles itself like a startled animal. You sweat, all day without noticing, skin sheds, hair falls away like dead branches, saliva pools in your mouth, tears drip. Shot full of hormones, even in silence your body is full of chaos; a soon to be outmoded machine, chugging haphazardly along. What is the purpose of life, when your body is so inherently decrepit, so doomed to fail?

What is the purpose of your mind? A kitchen with too many chefs (Alison, you of all people should not use this analogy. If your brain was a kitchen, there would be sugar free redbull, gin, and no cooks in sight. Just a bunch of drunk old men). Organs constantly secreting, your brain over seasoned with Oxytocin (nerves become sensitized), Endorphins (bind to opiate receptors in brain), Epinephrine, (heart rate increases, arteries dilate), Phenyl ethylamine, Dopamine, and Testosterone. The whole mess is heated to a rolling boil and then quickly doused with a generous dose of Prolactin.

A slow decay of thoughts, of optimism, as you go from electric, childish hope to a dull resignation, maybe you think it is funny. You think to yourself, “what is the point, when I sit here on my ass, I don’t know what I’m here for and yet I’m here.”

+++

We are damaged people. We drink too much, we do drugs, we smoke. We try to convince ourselves that our lives are not one big blooper reel (I bet that time you hit Erin's car and then I flashed those old people walking down the side of Hanley Road to try to lighten the mood would qualify our lives as a blooper reel). We do not worry about getting through the rest of our lives, just getting through the week is an epic battle.

Le Week

Wednesday- (Hump Day) The halfway point, we’re screaming in our heads. We are

nowhere near the weekend. Picture a man stranded on a desert island.

Thursday- Not so fabulous but at least it’s getting closer to the weekend.

Friday- A magical day that manages to be both a work day, and part of the weekend.

Lots of stress fueled drinking. Like we needed a reason to party.

The Weekend - Lets just gloss over this part, because we were probably blackout drunk

and can’t remember it anyways. We are never drinking again. Promise.

Monday- Despite our hangovers we are excited to get a head start on the week, we feel

fresh and full of blind optimism. Scurrying off to work with a smile on our faces and a fistful of Advil in our hands.

Tuesday- The reality of our lives has slapped us down like the hand of God, and there’s

nothing we can do about it except try and behave.

Instead we end up pissing in the bushes because we are too drunk to find a bathroom. We masturbate at grandma’s house, we drool, we get in bar fights. We ‘accidentally’ vomit in our own beds, we say bad words like “FUCK!” in front of little children. We may or may not be scared of the dark. We fart- burp- queef (I hate the word queef)- shit our pants- shit in the shower- smell my finger (OK). Give him the chair! – Professional wrestling- OCD- fake tan- spray tan- foot fetish- chubby chaser. We forget birthdays, we spit in someone else’s food (or put a cigarette out in it?), we lie about our weight. We use our roommate’s toothbrush to clean the toilet bowl and we don’t feel as bad as we should. We fall in public and then walk away like nothing happened.

All day we try to conceal our problems, our weird habits, our crazy, white trash, pregnant cousin (is this a round-about way of describing me? This is not appreciated. I may be pregnant but I am NOT white trash). We keep it locked up so that we can “get ahead” and be a “productive member of society.” We go about our day, parading around as normal people with sweaty palms and a lockbox full of rage and neuroses inside.

We control our emotions until we find ourselves trapped with the one group of people who piss us off like no one else. Our relatives. People we cannot ever escape, because we are related to them. Thanksgiving dinners become the culmination of decades of repressed feelings. Fights that never got resolved, and we fight dirty. And we know that once grandma has one too many she’s going to start talking about her boyfriend, or our cousin might finally come out of the closet. Things we don’t want to think about. Our aunt’s huge fake tits, slutty 8 year olds Hannah, disowned, divorced, sex change, “we don’t talk about that.” Our Creepy uncle’s hair plugs, awkward hugs, dad’s drunk and hitting on your mom’s sister.

Usually right around the time we are finally totally convinced that we are normal, especially compared to the freaks we are related to, all hell breaks loose, and shit gets real. Somebody dies, we get hurt, we get dumped, we get knocked up, we get wasted. Everything that we had neatly compartmentalized blows apart like psychological fireworks and we become a one-man band of crazy.

Or we just get old. At some point we no longer care if our loved ones are wondering if we are insane, or incontinent. We’ve lost our teeth, our dignity, and our minds. All we can eat is applesauce, our dentures keep falling out, and we smell like mothballs. But we don’t give a shit. We refuse to rewrite the will, we have our colostomy bags, food all over our face, bourbon, constipation, golf carts, “grandpa shit his pants again,” fuck, AGAIN?!hacking coughs, osteoporosis. We smell, we put tennis balls on our walkers looking forward to this, chin hairs, hip replacements, retirement communities, depends, orthopedic shoes, moles. We put plastic bags over our hair in the rain, “my back!” infomercials I've fallen and I can' get up!, crocheted animals, neon visors, spit, huge sunglasses, musty drapes, prunes, kidney stones.

We are finally free from all of the bullshit that has furtively held our lives together up until this point. We are no longer wrapped up in the shit that has been dumped over our lives that we once thought held such promise. We are no longer trapped in ourselves, we don’t care if anyone thinks we’re crazy, because we are, and now we know that the worse it gets, the funnier life becomes.

+++

Perhaps the insane, dysfunctional, elderly are all closer to the truth. While we stumble like fools through life, only offered tiny flashes of understanding, they have taken a swan dive into acceptance. They are constantly confronted by their failing bodies and minds; their mortality. They have relinquished the barriers of pretense that clutter the lives of others.

We know they are going to die soon, they know they are going to die soon.

They shuffle around with their walkers like the living dead, recounting stories from the forgotten past, or things they just made up it never occured to me that my Grandparents could be making shit up, but now I wonder. They realize that it is all the same, there are no more truths and lies, there is no right way or wrong way, its every man for himself. They become a counterpoint to the chaos that is tangled in our lives. The chaos of fighting impulses, ignoring intuition, wasting time, trivial things. They are no longer concerned with possessions, dispersing valuables among their family members. They are maybe beginning to realize that they cannot take it with them, and that everyone dies alone.

So they sit in their nursing homes, content for the first time, a sort of axis mundi, or meeting of heaven and earth. They are content in the knowledge they have lived a long life, with regrets, successes, failures, all locked in the rusting synapses of their brain. They are comforted by the fact that soon they will go someplace else, free from their dilapidated bodies, laughing at our horror at their deaths. While we remain prisoners of our busted machinery, run by a fucked up kitchen timer, insult added to injury.

...But I won't do that.

2010-12-20T00:09:00.001-08:00

My friend Katy turned to me the other night, and expressed one of the most succinct comments about my personality that I've ever heard.

"Leslie, I love you because you'll do anything".

At first I doubled over laughing at how insane it made me sound. Then I realized; I pretty much will do anything. I understand that I'm insane and embrace it, but for devil's advocate purposes, I would like to list some of the things I will not do.

1.) Pop a balloon. Absolutely wont fucking do it.

2.) Jump off a high dive, go skydiving or bungee jumping. What are you, nuts?

3.) Touch the arch of my foot with a pin, or anything sharp. Not even a corner of a piece of paper.

4.) Cook.

5.) Hold or touch a cockroach. Or a tarantula.

6.) Give up without a fight.

7.) Do that trick where you put your finger through a flame.

8.) Whistle. Not because I don't want to, but I've tried my entire life and simply can't. It's more of a windy, high note.

9.) Quiet down, or stop worrying. Two things I pretty much can't control. Don't tell me to quiet down, or to stop worrying about something. Pointless advice, and also annoying.

10.) Hang my feet over the edge of the bed when I sleep. Definitely that deep seeded fear that something will bite my feet off if they're hanging over the end. My feet just twitch with fear just thinking about it.

So, there you have it. Some things I won't do. Not included on the list are shaving my head and cursing in public, for obvious reasons.

Shrink Rapt

2010-12-08T08:44:00.000-08:00

What KDK wants, KDK gets. Here, my love, analyzation of your soul.

1.) I also do not squeeze the toothpaste as I go, and there is a simple reason for this: it doesn't matter. Also, consider this: when the toothpaste gets low, and you have to go back and squeeze it correctly, don't you feel quite accomplished when you get the toothpaste out? I feel it is far more satisfying than being timely about it.

2.) Again, the toilet paper does not matter. Think about it's use, and really consider if it matters which way it faces. It sounds like your roommates are the ones that have issues.

3.) Andy Warhol was a genius, and an asshole. Don't think that this opinion is what makes you a masochist; OTHER things make you a masochist, but not this.

4.) Criteria for husbandry could take more than a minute to explain, but I don't know what pathetic women are boring you with this information. Talking about what your future husband should be like will not bring you a husband. Explain this to them at the one minute mark, perhaps.

5.) This is maybe a questionable feeling. Hipsters are not hip at all, but purely mockable. You're not the first one to take a picture of a lawn chairs shadow, and PBR isn't that good. Male hipsters also turn me off, because if you look better in skinny jeans than I do, that means MY balls are bigger than yours; also, your legs are too skinny. A man with skinny legs should never be trusted.

6.) I read your blog post(s).

7.) I have no idea what this means. Perhaps we can discuss it in person.

8.) Your sociological theories on squirrels are fascinating and well thought out. I bet you're right, the richest squirrels, like humans, live in the best and most elite places, like the Chancellor's Residence (or the trees outside of it).

So, in summation, you're pretty normal except for your yearning for hipster meat and use of unreadable _______'s.

Side note

2010-12-06T22:56:00.000-08:00

Got an internship blogging and doing some other sponsorship-related stuff with a really cool site called theuntz.com. All about electronic music, venues, and shows. Definitely worth checking out if you're into electronic music...and if not, go back to knitting scarves for your ferrets. Keep your eye out in the near future for some music related blogging from me on the site!

Wits End

2010-12-06T22:40:00.000-08:00

Finals really brings out the worst in people. In the past week, I have nearly killed a roommate and a dear friend, fantasized about a teacher getting pelted with tomatoes by an auditorium full of students, and this morning tried to put a thong on my foot (instead of a sock). But you know what keeps me going?

Booze. The dream that someday, I will drink again, and it will be good.

127 "holy shits" in one sitting

2010-12-03T17:15:00.000-08:00

Just got back from seeing 127 Hours with KDK. All I can say is.....holy shit.

And I'm pretty sure I didn't stop saying it for the entire movie.

Alright, I don't know what the worst part of what happened to this dude truly is. Was it not eating for five days? Standing in a canyon for five days? Drinking his own urine? CUTTING HIS RIGHT ARM OFF? Holy shit. Holy. SHIT.

It's incredible the things that a person can endure. The guy was stranded in a canyon for almost a week and then cuts his arm off. It is a legitimate miracle that he's still alive, and had the gumption to just....lop.

And then I wondered: what would I have done? Probably the same things, try to lift the rock, try to chisel the rock, yell for help. Although, if it were me, there would be a lot more screaming for help, and if I did decide to cut my arm off, there would be a lot of crying.

Truthfully, there is only one moral to be drawn from this amazing story: Find your salvation in a Neiman Marcus, not the great outdoors.

Bad Romance

2010-12-03T12:51:00.001-08:00

Elvis Presley - Burning Love by Gevaro

A long time ago, I heard this story about some guy that blinded his girlfriend with lye when she broke up with him; they ended up getting married. I was always interested in the story, but could never remember the names of the people involved.

While browsing through the dollar store the other day perusing for ornaments for an ugly sweater party, I came across a DVD titled "Crazy Love". The cover pictured a grizzly looking man, and a woman wearing large, dark glasses. For whatever reason, the glasses triggered my memory of the story; could it be?! A documentary about this story I could never remember the details of but had always wondered about? YES!

OK, so now that I watched it, I can give full details about this insane love story.

Burt Pugach was his name. He was a lawyer, and very rich.

Linda Riss. A beautiful girl living in New York City.

He sees her one day while driving, and tells his friend she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. He immediately pulls over and asks her out. They date for a year, until she finds out that he's already married. Although he tries to wriggle out of it (creating false divorce decrees), she dumps him and moves to Florida. It is there that she meets a man named Larry Schwartz, and after a few years in the military, he comes home and proposes to her.

Meanwhile, Burt is struggling. Deeply depressed, his professional career is tanking and his marriage is failed. He drinks and obsesses over Linda, doing anything to get her attention.

It's the day before her wedding to Schwartz. A knock at the door prompts her to go and open it, where she is faced by three men. Before she knows what's happening one of them has their foot in the door, and throws a liquid in her face. It's lye.

Burt Pugach hires these men to throw the lye in her face, blinding her; if she won't be his, she won't be anyone else's, either. She tells police she's sure that Burt's behind the attack. After denying it, Burt gives in and admits that he did it (after his office is wiretapped). He goes to jail for 14 years.

While in prison, Burt writes to Linda, even calling her relatives to beg for them to get her to talk to him. He says he's sorry, he's a changed man now. He sends Linda money, anything to make her love him. And when he gets out, he goes on the local New York City nightly news program to plead to Linda to forgive him and marry him.

And she does. She marries the man who blinded her 15 years earlier, changing her life forever.

It is my opinion that this story represents true love. Isn't love about forgiveness? Isn't it supposed to drive you crazy? Maybe I'm a masochist, but it's kind of sweet, in a sense. In a sick, twisted, ridiculously sensational sense, it's....the most romantic thing I've ever heard.

Forget you, knot.

2010-11-30T17:57:00.001-08:00

Being stressed and overwhelmed by a million things is like a giant, awful knot. You look at it, and it's fat, you know, just a fat, awful looking knot. But you know that if you want to wear that necklace (yes, a necklace knot, that's what I'm picturing), you'll have to unravel that damn knot.

You start with one end, perhaps you unhinge the necklace so it's easier to feed the chain through each loop of the ball. You start by looking where it's knotted first, and fix it, and move until you hit another snag, and unknot it, and so on and so forth until you untie the last kink in the knot, and voile! The knot is gone.

Right now, the knot is this: A PR project, an Accounting project, a history paper, and an iPhone app presentation. Let the untying begin.... let it be known that to untie a knot properly, cocktails are almost certainly involved.