Thursday, May 27, 2010


Whenever I see this picture, the opening whispery vocals of her song "Honey" start to play in my head, and I inevitably think to myself: KILLINUM. DEAD. I love this photo and that's saying a lot, because I can't say I particularly love Mariah. I wouldn't call myself a fan, although don't get me started on the joyful Fantasy or the masterpiece that is The Roof or the jimmy jam that is Stay the night okay?! ~sigh~  The 90s... Back when Mariah was the domme. Just look at her legs will you!?! Don't ever let me walk into a room lookin' like this, because you wouldn't be able to tell me shit for days okay?! If anyone ever argued with me about anything, I would just pull this album cover out and be like "I just need you to know, that at one point, I looked like this." And that's it. Argument over. Effective immediately.

Mariah, at her best.

Pssst... No wonder Nick Cannon is sprung! Although we all know she doesn't look this amazing now. [But you ain't heard that from me!]

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The Party Life

Y'all know me. I like to party. But before I was old enough to party, I was confined to my room on Saturday nights with nothing but my CD player and MTV. I had to party vicariously through Diddy and Britney Spears. So here are my five favorite party videos [in no particular order]... Parties that had they been real, I'd be way pissed I wasn't invited.

Brandy - Full Moon
I love black people. And I also love everything about this video [minus the object of Brandy's affection.]  I think the dude she sweats in the video leaves much to be desired, but that apartment? I will move to LA rightdamnnow if the apartments look like that! I also like her outfit, the dress  is understated yet elegant, her makeup is glow-y and bomb, and her pin-straight hair and strappy heels tie the whole shebang together nicely. Full Moon strongly reminds me of all the lounge-y grown and sexy parties in Harlem and downtown Manhattan I would talk my way into, where I was often the sole butterscotch-skinned attendee. Despite being "bridge and tunnel" and a minor (I was 16), I would get down with the best of them ~sigh~ I miss those parties sometimes. Needless to say, this video makes me want to go to L.A. [although I know I'll hate it]. 

Sean Paul - Get Busy
I find this video to be a lot of fun, and find it to be accurate, including the  part where the owner of the house interrupts the party to shut it down ["The party done!"].  In my experiences, most of the party people had rap sheets, children or a substance abuse problem [read: weed], but it was all in the name of good fun. Now dutty wine gyal! This party echoes what I wrote above, except replace Harlem with Brooklyn and "lounge-y grown and sexy" with "ghetto-fab buckwild good fun". Holler! Again, I don't think the girl Sean Paul is chasing is all that good-looking, but I'd rock her outfit in a hot second!


This apartment reminds me of my new place.

I did it. I found the damn apartment. It's a cute little studio 15 minutes away from Manhattan, with wood floors, a kitchenette, full bath and large walk-in closet. In other words, exactly what I wanted. Not only that, but I finally get to live alone. LORD JESUS JUDAS ALLAH KABBALAH HALLELUJAH ALMIGHTY BABY JESUS PRAISE THE HEAVENS AND THE HADES! If I'm ecstatic about anything, it's that. And lastly, I am paying less for this apartment than I did in my last three apartments as a roommate. Yeah you heard me. I'm paying rent so cheap it would make you wanna hoot, holler, and slap your momma! [My weak attempt at a country joke.]

It's not Brooklyn... My first love before I made Manhattan my boyfriend and Queens my bitch! - but I'm happy with the neighborhood. It's cute and quaint and there is a park at the foot of my block. Tres adorable.

Believe it or not, I've moved twice since my last apartment post, but that's how I do. I do not settle and I will keep on moving forward until I don't have to. [Much to the dismay of my  movers family.] Life is too short and I like to be happy - so it only makes sense. Despite what one may think - I'm not all that picky when it comes to housing. But after my last few roommate fiascos, I decided I definitely needed to live alone. For peace's sake.

And now I'm doing just that! I am a monster. I feel like doing the Diddy dance and announcing crazy things like "WHO CAN STOP ME?! NO ONE!" and "They try to put me in a box!  Impossible!" [Ryan Leslie be killin 'em dead. You know how I know? Because this video kills me. I watch it and I'm *dead*, everytime. DO NOT SLEEP ON R. LES!]

Anyway I made sure it was a non-rundown area because I refuse to live in the hood. Duh. I have never lived in the hood [although my hometown is suspect on that front] and don't plan on starting! I didn't want to have to buy some mace. My sister told me it's illegal to carry mace on your person, but isn't robbing/assaulting/raping/severely annoying someone also illegal?! Okay then. The judge can go ahead and tell meee which one is more illegal. I dare him. *Looks at watch* I have time.

So anywho. Got the apartment, the jobs are another story.

After a weekend training at the tres chic SoHo restaurant, I decided it wasn't my cup of tea. It was stressful and self-important, and the main girls I had to work alongside were equally miserable and uptight. I might be a snob, but I'm not a pretentious twat. After my third day, I sent the manager an e-mail saying it wasn't the environment I was looking for, so thanks but no thanks. It was akin to saying goodbye to a gorgeous but dumb man. So, so hard,  but yet, so, so necessary. Forgive me Mercer & Prince. Forgive me and goodbye.

Then the babysitting job I had nailed went out the window because... ahem... the Mother had a miscarriage. And her pregnancy was pretty much the sole reason they needed me. It was  probably the first time I'd ever heard news that inconvenienced me and I wasn't even slightly annoyed. I thanked the Father for even thinking of me, and sent my well wishes to him and his family. He said he passed my name on to some friends in need of childcare and I was truly touched. To think of me when your family is dealing with such a tragedy is just... WOW. I really hope that they feel peace soon. Must be tough.

So for now I'm still looking. But the good news is, I'll be back in the city on Sunday, two days before my birthday, just like I had promised myself.*

[Can I also just say that I found heaven in a pastry? Magnolia's magic cookie bar ftw!!! CRACK in a confection I'll tell you that.]

*While on the apartment/job search this month, all I kept telling my family and friends was that I needed to be back in the city before my birthday. "I CANNOT TURN 22 AND STILL BE STUCK IN LONG ISLAND. I CANNOT!" Why I was so bent on this is beyond me [I guess I viewed it as a failure of some sort] but so goes neurosis.

And p.s. - Major things coming for the blog. MAJOR.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Random VI

"I was gone for a minute now I'm back with the jumpoff!" Can I just mention how often that song randomly pops in my head?! WAY TOO OFTEN. Was I Lil Kim in another lifetime? Actually, that might not be too far off. If you know what I'm sayin... Because I don't.

Sometimes I just feel like being a thug.

I wish I could meet Lady Gaga [again] so I could ask her "How does it feel to have mad skills?" With a straight face. But you know what? As much as I love Lady G, she can't dance worth a lick. I still love her though. Don't hate!

I'm miffed that guys don't have to concern themselves with armpit hair. I fear the day I forget to shave and have to suddenly hail a cab. I know that some men shave their armpit hair but I mean, that's insane. That's adding a really unnecessary task to an already spare list. That's like me making my own party dress or doing my own laundry! I don't have to, so why should I?

The tag inside my Antik denim was annoying me all day, and when I glanced at my lower back I saw that the area was red and raw. By the time I got home, it had turned into a scab. I bought these $200 jeans and all I got was a scab. C'mon son!

The biggest money issue everyone seems to be having is, not having enough. Maybe they'd have more of it if they didn't blow your student loan/grocery/utility money on that video game/new pair of shoes/Lexus? In most cases, people don't have enough money to have fun with after they pay rent which is, you know, not fun, so I kinda sympathize.

Speaking of moolah, I just scored a Hayden Harnett Havana Hobo [in black, deliciously supple, insanely soft leather] on Ebay for a fifth of the original price. I have a love-hate relationship with Ebay [I was once robbed of a $98 pair of sandals because this moron convinced me to start my listing at 99 cents. The shoes sold for $2 and I begrudgingly mailed them to the recipient because it was the right thing to do. I was pissed though.] But right now I'm totally a cheerleader. Go Ebay!

Back to the bag. It's gorgeous and massive but I need to slow it downnn... that's my fourth Hayden Harnett bag.

Here's a word of advice: Never work for someone who on the interview tells you there's no lunch break. Never mind the fact that you're working 8 hours a day and this practice is illegal. They will attempt to fire you for unknown and unfair reasons two weeks into the gig, but you will have heard it through the grapevine and decide to surprise them early by telling them you quit. Fuck a passion for fashion at $12/hr and no commission. Stay away from any "Boutique On Columbus" ave, if you know what I'm sayin.

Real Estate has been on the back burner for me since commission only is a tough pill to swallow when you have big girl bills. I feel bad neglecting it but I have other priorities right now - I'm on the hunt for some part time bread and butter, while simultaneously keeping my eye out for a close to the subway, non-carpeted 1 bedroom or studio [or a very private roommate situation because at the end of the day, rooming saves money]. My other stipulations include a full bath and a location that can best be described as "not the ghetto." That is all.

Update: So I was out of a job on Tuesday of last week, but by the end of the week I'd had four successful interviews. I start one of my gigs this week, and the other in about two weeks. One involves babysitting a cherub-faced toddler uptown for a few hours a week, which will grant me enough money to pay rent and then some. The other involves a bowling alley, Midtown, a tight black dress and lots of tips. It is not what you think it is. Or what you think it's not. I just confused myself. The latter job sounds okay, but I'm really crossing my fingers for this Hostess/Reservationist gig at a tres chic SoHo restaurant [Mercer Kitchen] that's totally up my alley. My final interview is tomorrow and if I get that, and find an amazing apartment in these next two weeks, you can say it: I am living a charmed life. But enough about that before they google me and I get fired before I'm even hired. Ya dig?

In other news and money-making schemes, I've decided I should use my writing skills to hone the fine craft of "editing" college papers for a nominal fee. I already have one paper under way, and I'll use the grade I get as my future resume the student receives as a selling point. Capisce?

Ay yai yai there's so much going and my 22nd birthday aka "21 do-over" is only two weeks away!  It's kind of insane how the year has flown. I am much wiser but my life still feels repetitive. Is that normal? I guess it is. People keep asking me if I'm going to throw a party. I'm not totally sure. I like to keep people guessing, I guess. 

Three weeks after my birthday, summer arrives, and that's when the real trouble begins. Expect a lot of changes from me this summer... I plan on getting inked, primped and metal-mouthed just to name a few.

I cannot wait to be back in the city full-time. I miss my bed, my clothes, and most of all, life as I knew it. Plus I have some J. Crew patent leather flats in storage that I desperately need to sell.

No matter what happens, I just can't stop being excited for things. What can I say, I'm a happy girl. And even when things aren't going as planned, I am thankful for the little things. Like the fact that I'm healthy. Or the fact that the salesgirl at Bloomie's loaded me up with free fragrance samples. [Givenchy's Ange ou Demon le secret?!!? CRACK.]

Life is sweet. Enjoy it.

Friday, May 14, 2010


Friends. Friends only. That is my new mantra. I need to stop getting caught up. Giving men chances. Seeing where it goes.  I've gotten caught up because you know, the guy is nice, and when was the last time I sat across from a guy and he really listened? Or had manners? You know? Shit is rough out there, okay?
Most men aren't worth the trouble [and are they childish or what?!], but more importantly, I am not ready. I am not ready for dating or a relationship or all the bullshit and games that comes along with all that. I have never been ready and deep inside I have always known that. I turned to "love" for comfort and felt anything but. Summer is coming. And until further notice, I seek friends only.
And now, one of my favorite songs, sung by Pink off her debut album "Can't take me home". You can pretty much say that she's strumming my pain, singing my life, and killing me softly with this song. Go download it or something, it's beautiful.

"Stop Falling"

I ain't lookin for a steady thing
I ain't lookin for what love brings
I'm still young and I ain't ready babe
I'm still lookin for some better days
I don't wanna give you everything
I just wanna make you feel things
If you ain't down to give me everything
Just throw it away

Don't assume cuz I'm a woman
That I'll fall in love
Don't expect I'm young and need to be took care of
Don't wanna hear you got what I need
Cuz how would you know before we speak
You've gotta understand my side
I've had a crazy, crazy life
Nobody came along to open up my eyes
You've gotta take what you can get
Don't even bother with my heart
Cuz I get a feeling I won't let it start

[Repeat Chorus]

Please believe me
I've been down this road and back again
Learned my lesson and it was that love is not my friend
For the day I put my trust in you
Would be the day I say "I do"
Don't expect me just to open up
Maybe I'm just a little scared
Please don't tell me what you think I wanna hear
Oh baby save it, I've heard it all before
There ain't nothin you could say, whoa, to make me change my ways

[Repeat Chorus]

So stop falling
Stop falling
You know you're falling....for me
Stop falling
Stop falling
Stop falling...for me
You've gotta understand my side
I've had a crazy, crazy life
Nobody came along to open up my eyes
Oh baby, take what you can get
Don't even bother with my heart
I get a feeling I won't let it start...

[Repeat Chorus]

Stop falling...

Saturday, May 8, 2010


I saw this photo and the first thing I thought was: I want to look like this girl. Or at least have her hair. A first! And probably the last. Also, go Starbucks! They should really pay me considering how much I mention them on this blog. See more photos here.

Saturday, May 1, 2010


I first read about Marina Abramović on, where images of her crying participants had been plastered. I was intrigued by the concept and decided to go see her performance art piece "The artist is present" Friday evening at the Museum of Modern Art [aka MOMA]. It involves the artist sitting stoically at a table for hours at a time, no real breaks. The audience is encouraged to participate, to sit across from her quietly, no moving, no talking, nothing on the table. The pair spend their date staring silently into each others eyes. This odd interaction has brought many of the participants [and the artist herself] to tears.  People are just desperately yearning for a connection. It is so, extremely sad. You can read the articles that intrigued me here, here and here.

I've never done anything like this. I don't know when I decided that I wanted to see her in person, but next thing you know I'd made up my mind and was strolling into the museum alone, not really knowing what to expect.

I also saw and got to speak with Paco Blancas who told me that he's googleable. Awesome. Technically this blog is googleable, but it just doesn't have the same effect. He's a renowned makeup artist who has been to the exhibit a few times now and continues to attend because as he told me "I love it, I love her energy". Her energy [or the energy in the room] was indeed palpable; I felt my heart begin to race at certain moments, and at other moments I felt my eyes begin to well up with tears. I am not a crier either.


I can't say I totally understand performance art [a lot of her stuff on the 6th floor was beyond bizarre to even me] but this piece was different.

I was, what do you say... moved. How long has it been since we truly looked someone in the eyes and saw them? How long has it been since we sat in silence and let ourselves feel calm? How long has it been since we paid attention to our internal chatter? Have we ever even done these things???

We are losing ourselves in the chaos and technology and routine of life. People reach their thirties, forties, fifties even without knowing who they are... That is unacceptable to me. We live with this constant surround sound in order to drown out the murmurs inside our hearts and minds.


People are living but do not know how to live. Do you feel me? I talk about this often but this time I have a question. Are you living? And if not, what are you doing to change that? I have long believed that the answers are inside. 

You weren't allowed to take flash photographs, but I don't follow rules I don't like so here goes: 

As you can see, that guy was sitting there FOR-EV-ER. Perhaps he was trying to find enlightenment... I plan on going back next week and participating. I bet you five dollars that I'm going to cry. [Again, voodoo?]

You can read more about the exhibit here.


The start of my experiment was postponed from Sunday to Tuesday because I had half a liter of pepsi and two yogurts to consume lest they go to waste - so that's that.

Day One [Tues] -

Had a bagel with butter for lunch. Contemplated pairing it with a capri sun but remembered that it contained sugar. Thought about the task of depriving myself of sugar for a whole week and briefly became depressed [especially at the thought of drinking nothing but water for 7 days in a row]. The DJ who saved my life earlier this month gave me the "It's not you it's me" talk today and I contemplated scarfing down some chocolate to cheer myself up. I resisted because alas, I had none. Later, I had rice & beans and chicken, and some water. For a midnight snack I had pretzels and another glass of water. I feel like a fucking vegan with all these limitations.

Day Two [Wed] -

Woke up very suddenly and very late for work - which compounded my already sullen feelings [a childhood friend of mine passed on Sunday - very unexpected and she was only 23; plus the rejection from the DJ yesterday] and it just about had me ready to cry. Bawl! Big fat tears of sadness and patheticism [my new made up word]. But strength is my middle name and I instead took action! I whipped up an outfit and had some brief fantasies of a Starbucks white chocolate mocha [or at least an orange juice!] which consoled me.

So I get to work, I'm starving and my lips are chapped since I had no lip stuff on me. I was eagerly awaiting my "break" but was trying not to look too eager since it was only my first day. I went out and had an apple, some string cheese and auntie anne's graham crackers. Halfway through the bag of crackers, I realized that they may contain sugar. Seven grams! I already failed my sugar challenge it was only the second day. But I didn't beat myself up too bad about it - it's not like I purposely bought the cookies, they came in some kiddie snack pack I bought at starbucks - where I successfully avoided the lure of a caramel tinged coffee. After I forgave myself, I had some chicken teriyaki and a water. More water. Ugh.

Okay I just had a parfait. 39 grams of sugar!  That I'm beating myself up for. I'm starting to think I can only do this sort of experiment unconsciously ["Wow I just realized I went a whole 3 weeks without drinking soda"] vs. deliberately. Sigh.

Day Three [Thurs] -

So I failed. As a matter of fact I woke up that morning with the intent to break my self imposed rule. I wanted coffee, and I wanted it with french vanilla creamer, so that is what I had. I tried to limit myself to 5 spoonfuls of sugar but apparently my acquired taste required twelve. Jesus! I had a bagel. Then a turkey and swiss sandwich and a capri sun. Then the rest of Wednesday's parfait. And then later I had a cola redbull [very interesting taste], tortilla chips & guacamole and a cupcake [gasp!]. For dinner I had two slices of pizza and some pomegranate berry juice which sounded better than it tasted and cost me 8 bucks. Fucking New York City!

As far as my "No Sugar Challenge" - I'm not surprised I failed but it did make me more conscious of how much sugar I consume, and how to balance myself in that aspect. I also realized that when I get hungry I tend to think "sweets!" vs "meal!" so that has been helpful in determining some things, like why I shrunk to a size 0 [sometimes I'm a 00, the smallest womens' size that exists] when I had always been a size 2. It'd be nice to be a size 2 again, I miss my cute hips and phat booty [and I'm sure the men do too].

Anywho. So yes, I failed. But I still came out a winner... or something *side eye*