What are you doing New Year's Eve?

The holidays can be pretty hateful, amirite? I did alot of running around and cooking and shopping and dinner-partying and more running around. And right when I thought I was possibly having some sort of enjoyment, I caught a cold which forced me to miss another dinner party that I was looking forward to. A dinner party at the luxurious home of an apparent BFF of a certain Brazilian super-duper-model(!) who shall remain nameless. I don't like missing out on opportunities that may constitute a fun time. I'm that 5-year-old that wakes up the day after Christmas and realizes that her older brothers have been playing with the new Simpsons-themed monopoly set for about 30 goddam minutes already, without her.

Soooo, New Year's Eve. There's gotta be some fun there, yeah? My ideal idea of fun would be harmonizing with Joseph Gordon-Levitt but I'll settle for just a party or two. I'll try not to cough on the shrimp cocktail.

Girl Crushing on...

wunderkind Tavi Gevinson!

If you don't already know about her, come out of your lonely cave. She's a blogger, an editor, a fashionista, a writer, a muse, and a rapper. She's already everything you will never be.

Recently she unveiled other talents in her not-so-gradual pursuit for world domination.
God bless you, Tavi Gevinson. It must be so rough being 15.

Thank You for Smoking

I'm not a smoker. People have known this about me. I've loathed it ever since the 7th grade when my science teacher cheerfully passed around the shriveled blackened lung of a life-long smoker, pressed between two thin sheets of glass, to the abject horror of 30 inner-city prepubescents. In my 20s, I'd be sensitive to the smallest vestige of smoke, as it often lay claim over my friends' clothing and hair. I used to force myself, pre-smoking ban, to tolerate the hours of concentrated exposure at music clubs back when I used to go to gigs 2-3 times a week.

Times have changed.

I'm not a smoker. Not really. But ever since I was exiled into this shitty prison of solitude, cigarettes have become a most unlikely crutch. I remember the turning point too. A couple of years ago during a particularly dark period of my life marked by a near-complete withdrawal from society and an unhealthy addiction to free internet access, I slowly became obsessed with this man and I vowed to devote myself and my uterus to him and only him. His tour brought him to Brooklyn and I knew my chances of being able to approach him were high because the venue was so intimate. I managed to muster the courage to speak with him (!) and we proceeded to have non-awkward conversation (!!) and he was gracious and handsome and sooo sexily Anglo. But then it happened. "I'm going out for a ciggie. Care to join?" he asked (or something like that but more British). And I said...wait for it... "No thanks, I don't smoke." NO THANKS. *Cue door of opportunity loudly slamming shut.* So that's when I sort of became the female equivalent of Yes Man cuz "no thanks" does not get you anywhere....or laid.

A week later I bought a pack of cloves (which smell good but they're god awful). Fast-forward to now. I smoke when I'm feeling lonely, which is to say almost every day. I usually limit myself to one cancer stick a day, in my pajamas, by my bathroom window. They don't calm my nerves, they don't help me think, nor do they comfort me in any way. I'm not addicted. In fact, during good times I can go weeks or months without. It's a habit. But strangely, it's a pretty accurate barometer of my emotional state.

This month's cig count has been a personal best. I suspect this has something to do with the holidays. (So fuck you, holidays.) A new year is approaching. Let's see how I'll do.

An ache I still remember

I'm not sure how I entirely missed the boat on this one.

This guy is on heavy heavy rotation for me right now and I can't believe I didn't know he existed until last week. I feel like a complete failure for not knowing about this song when it was first released. And if you knew me back when I wasn't just a semblance of myself, you'd know I'm not exaggerating.


Gotye featuring Kimbra

Little Fury

Animated Gosling = still hot

Sometimes, violence is called for...

tribute to drive from tom haugomat & bruno mangyoku on Vimeo.

Oh to be the cream

I spend my days working for the man, and all my other waking moments living vicariously through the dreams, affectations, dramas, and progeny of others. This is because I've somehow forfeited all of the aforementioned. I don't have anything going on... and this does not feel temporary. I look around me and everyone has an issue or a tragedy or a psychosis or an incredible fortune. I can't take ownership of any of these things. I've never felt so blank.

(This is not a complaint. I do not complain. I will not complain.)

MGMT - All We Ever Wanted Was Everything from oneedo on Vimeo.

a sweet escape

Address Is Approximate from The Theory on Vimeo.

Perspective

I have absolutely nothing to complain about. There's a roof over my head, food in the fridge, people out there who love me, and I don't have cancer (yet).

Today just felt so demoralizing.

On settling.

                   Alex (cont'd)
You know, honestly, by the time you're 34,
all the physical requirements just go out the
window. Like you secretly pray that he'll be
taller than you.

Ryan smiles.

                    Alex (cont'd)
Not an asshole would be nice. Just someone
who enjoys my company, comes from a good
family. You don't think about that when you're
younger.
       (thinking)
I don't know...someone who wants kids.
Likes kids. Wants kids. Healthy enough to
play with his kids.

We can tell Ryan is taking a serious interest in this.

                   Alex (cont'd)
Please let him earn more money than I do.
You might not understand that now, but
believe me, you will one day. Otherwise that's
a recipe for disaster.
       (reaching)
And hopefully some hair on his head...?
But I mean even that's not a deal breaker these days.
A nice smile. Yeah, a nice smile.
Nice smile just might do it.

                   Natalie
Wow. That was depressing.

Girl Crushing on...

Diablo Cody!

I've always been not-so-secretly jealous of this Oscar-winning screenwriter. If I had actual talent, I would dare to dream to build the exact trajectory of her career in entertainment (minus the full-time stripping and Jennifer's Body). Her celebrity web talk show, Red Band Trailer, is arguably the 2nd-best perfect Sunday breakfast buddy after Joel McHale himself.

To Die By Your Side

Spike Jonze: Mourir Auprès de Toi on Nowness.com.

On peace.

Staycation.

In theory, it's a great idea. You generate a list of errands to do, stuff to see, cultural activities to experience, cocktails to drink. Instead you spend your time on the phone, on hold with Verizon, trying to combat two weeks of technical difficulty in connecting to you, yeah YOU...the internet. Most folks have always known me to be a pillar of calm.  Nothing normally rattles me and I tend to tackle problems (at work at least) with a clear and objective head. But there are three entities that have succeeded in sodomizing my inner peace this week: the MTA, the Antichrist f*cktard who lives below me, and Verizon. I am not a proponent of violence but if all three were humans, I'd hire someone to stab them in the carotid.

I'll spare you the harrowing details, but I am now the proud owner of legitimate interwebs and I'm posting from the comfort of my sectional. For the remainder of this staycation, I will watch Hulu, eat pie, and do online research on lawful ways to evict or psychologically traumatize said f*cktard.

Namaste.

drum roll please...

I got a new job! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I did it! Or rather, a few people practically did it for me. Y'all know who you are...and thank you.
For now, life does not bite so much. New job, new tan, new beginnings.

Hurricane Dreams

gif by Greg Leuch

What a lazy day I'm having. There was no need to get my ass up early enough to make my Pilates class because there would be no means to get back home. So I decided to sleep for about a hundred years (til 2pm). I'm glad I did that because I managed to dream the best dream I've had since 2008 when Tom Cruise gave me a shoulder massage during some kind of theatrical lucha libre event. (For the record, TC gives me the willies, like, in a gross way, which makes that dream fantastically cringe-worthy.) Anyway, this one involved another theatrical setting where my family and I were watching some sort of dance event featuring French children dressed in red and white. Josh Radnor came and sat next to me and we hit it off immediately. In fact, he liked me so much that he was too shy to ask for my number so I asked for his instead. There really is no climax here to speak of, apart from the strange elation I felt upon waking up. One problematic element here that distresses me was Josh's appearance...he really looked bad with unkempt, scraggly hair and a horrible complexion. I'm not a trained therapist but even I can have a field day deconstructing this one.
(Sidebar: I haven't watched television, including "How I Met Your Mother," in two months really. I did read a draft of Josh's screenplay "Happythankyoumoreplease" but that was last year. Yet he manages to live in the recesses of my mind...in ugly form.)

In other news, I'm prepping for big bad Irene by buying a bag of beef jerky and boiling my three remaining eggs. I have a mini-maglite, loads of votive candles from Ikea, and Netflix just sent me Kick-Ass. Thank God my sister bought wine.

Jedi Kittens

It's a little crazy at work today. Although I may harp about it sometimes, I welcome any distraction from my daily psychosis.

Speaking of distractions....

Where's Wall-E?

Can you find him?

by Richard Sargent

Making "the Shining"

Vivian Kubrick, Stanley's daughter, was only 17 when she made this doc.

The Making of THE SHINING from Tara Emerson on Vimeo.

Update: Well. So much for that video. Here's something else to look at.

Thinking of you

I am no stranger to loss.
Although I've had nothing but time to cope and deal, I still have trouble wrapping my head around how we're all supposed to continue sucking air after you lose someone you love, when clearly the whole world should just stop orbiting, out of respect for the dead. So when a friend loses someone, I take great great pause. I am stricken too. I know all about this healing process that never really ends. And I am with you.

Minor Differences

via the Oatmeal

You are not alone

Walter Martin and Paloma Muñoz
Traveler 186 at Night, 2006

I've admired Martin and Muñoz' work for several years now because I heart all things tiny. Their stuff is featured in the Otherworldly Exhibit at the Museum of Art & Design. Who wants to join me? I don't want to see tiny people by myself.

Girl Crushing on....

Emma Stone! (just like that dirty old man, Dave Letterman)

Swimming with shark

You know those rare instances when you get up in the morning in a surprisingly good mood, filled with positive energy and motivation to make your day worthwhile? When you're ready to face challenges, conquer long-standing obstacles, and feel good about yourself and your new achievements? But all this levity shatters because some schmuck at work manages to suck so bad, at work and in life, that you just want to throw him under a bus?

Today is like that.

(Tangent: I've never seen Shark Week. In fact, I don't really know what it is. Is it really all it's cracked up to be? Should I get cable just for this highly lauded phenomenon?)

I'm Comic Sans, Asshole.

Listen up. I know the shit you’ve been saying behind my back. You think I’m stupid. You think I’m immature. You think I’m a malformed, pathetic excuse for a font. Well think again, nerdhole, because I’m Comic Sans, and I’m the best thing to happen to typography since Johannes fucking Gutenberg.

You don’t like that your coworker used me on that note about stealing her yogurt from the break room fridge? You don’t like that I’m all over your sister-in-law’s blog? You don’t like that I’m on the sign for that new Thai place? You think I’m pedestrian and tacky? Guess the fuck what, Picasso. We don’t all have seventy-three weights of stick-up-my-ass Helvetica sitting on our seventeen-inch MacBook Pros. Sorry the entire world can’t all be done in stark Eurotrash Swiss type. Sorry some people like to have fun. Sorry I’m standing in the way of your minimalist Bauhaus-esque fascist snoozefest. Maybe sometime you should take off your black turtleneck, stop compulsively adjusting your Tumblr theme, and lighten the fuck up for once.

People love me. Why? Because I’m fun. I’m the life of the party. I bring levity to any situation. Need to soften the blow of a harsh message about restroom etiquette? SLAM. There I am. Need to spice up the directions to your graduation party? WHAM. There again. Need to convey your fun-loving, approachable nature on your business’ website? SMACK. Like daffodils in motherfucking spring.

When people need to kick back, have fun, and party, I will be there, unlike your pathetic fonts. While Gotham is at the science fair, I’m banging the prom queen behind the woodshop. While Avenir is practicing the clarinet, I’m shredding “Reign In Blood” on my double-necked Stratocaster. While Univers is refilling his allergy prescriptions, I’m racing my tricked-out, nitrous-laden Honda Civic against Tokyo gangsters who’ll kill me if I don’t cross the finish line first. I am a sans serif Superman and my only kryptonite is pretentious buzzkills like you.

It doesn’t even matter what you think. You know why, jagoff? Cause I’m famous. I am on every major operating system since Microsoft fucking Bob. I’m in your signs. I’m in your browsers. I’m in your instant messengers. I’m not just a font. I am a force of motherfucking nature and I will not rest until every uptight armchair typographer cock-hat like you is surrounded by my lovable, comic-book inspired, sans-serif badassery.

Enough of this bullshit. I’m gonna go get hammered with Papyrus.

(a short imagined monologue by Mike Lacher)

It puts the lotion in the basket

Where do you go to find that peaceful yet productive self that you've inhabited before?

Where there's calm and grace, and practical motivation for geniunely living without squandering?

Where all the crazy in your head can be put to rest comfortably...preferably on a hammock?

Suggestions are welcome.

....

a stampede of horses

It's a Fantastic World

Jim and Bert at the Museum of Moving Image

Procrastination

I'm supposed to be writing my resume right at this moment. It's only been about 10 days since I've intended to work on it. And it's only been about four bazillion eons since I've written one. So it may be easy for you, my vast readership, to surmise that this blog entry is a visual representation of my lazy-ass-ness.

i also have this to show you:


That is all.

Who wants pie?

I feel lighter today.

Many factors play into this rare phenomenon. Yesterday was full of pleasantness: a slow workload, tsukemen miso, a good movie, a sunshower, a double rainbow, juicy gossip-mongering, some singing on the side. I'm inches away to being whiplash-free. And a new *opportunity* is on the horizon. If I ever did a cartwheel in my youth, I think I'd be attempting one right now.

This happy Ukrainian-like tune is like icing on the cake, although I prefer pie.
Beirut - East Harlem

This only means that my next descent is gonna be a stampede of horses.

If you do this in an email, I HATE YOU.

really slow morning. really long cartoon.
but damn if this didn't make me pee a little in my hiphuggers.



via the Oatmeal

Some (limited) girl crushing on....

Zooey Deschanel!

Yeah, i get it. Most of us are tired of her, what with the hype of that god-awful new show, her insertion into the indie music scene between films, and her new launch of a girl-friendly website with a vomit-inducing name. But looky, i can't hate on the song from "the Jerk."



Note the use of the uke. And you know how I feel about that.

Girl Crushing on....

Aubrey Plaza!

Born Jamerican Apparel

This video for "Who's That? Brooown!" by the kings of wiseassery, Das Racist, makes me LMFAO, for reals. It features the 7 train! And that douchey bar in Murray Hill, Joshua Tree! And it has a dance battle in Williamsburg!!!

peaks and valleys and in between

Yesterday was manic, and then pleasantly novel, and then slightly exhilarating.

Today is another fucking day.

cell scenes

because some of these scenes may want to live somewhere outside of my mind or my phone.

love is (not) stronger than Pride

So after months of careful consideration (read: laziness), I finally attended my first speed dating event this past weekend. The venue happened to be in the Meatpacking District...during Gay Pride. Evidently, no one thought this through.

Our group spanned two areas--a bar and a semi-private (read: quiet) back room. I was super-fortunate enough to be seated at the bar (very close to the revelers) where my "dates" had to stand near me (since there were no adjacent seats for them) and yell me their names/interests over the din of 50 queens singing and dancing to Ke$ha or Katy Perry. More amusing was the hostess' use of her bell, which she rang every 5 minutes to signal a new rotation to the next speed-dater. The ringing of the bell, of course, served as a different signal to the Proud clientele, prompting them to clap and whistle, and to exclaim some variation of "WOOOOOO HOOOOOO! PARTTTYYYYYY DOWWNNNNNNN, BITCHES!"

Here are some memorable quotes:
"You are very good. I am going to check YES next to your name."
"You must've been born here because your English is superb."
"Is there some kind of event happening in the city? What are all these rainbow flags? Was there a Dominican parade today?"

All in all, I'd say it was 2 parts fun, 1 part boring, and only .5 part demoralizing so....SUCCESS! Maybe next time, it'll be at a Chuck-E-Cheese.

resentment monday...

"If you can't beat them, arrange to have them beaten." ~ George Carlin

Bloggity Blog Blog

I've recently become rather put off by the style/fashion-y/design blogs that I've followed religiously for the past few years because of the simple fact that many of them have evolved into i-just-had-a-baby/look-at-my-cute-baby/danish-high-chairs-are-the-best blogs with a spattering of design thrown in. And because I cannot share in their joy due to my current pre-spinsterhood status, I've found myself at a loss for fun sites to waste my valuable time on. I suppose I can choose to read books, but that's an extra thing to carry on the subway. So imagine my delight when a friend suggested I take a gander at OkCupid's blog. A blog about online dating? Harrowing. A blog about online dating that utilizes aggregated data and statistical analysis to find reasonable sequiturs about sex and human attraction? Awesome! OkTrends's excessive use of charts and graphs are a giant plus in my book, too, because I sure do love me a good graph. And everyone could use a visual when the topic is sex.







Also, the entry titles are titillating. See Don't Be Ugly By Accident! and Rape Fantasies and Hygiene By State.

In unrelated news, here are some tunes that I understand those darn kids are listening to these days:

Sleigh Bells - Ring Ring

The Naked and Famous - Young Blood

SebastiAn - Love In Motion (feat. Mayer Hawthorne)

Goodmorning.

Moonlight will fall
Winter will end
Harvest will come
Your heart will mend

William Fitzsimmons - Goodmorning (Pink Ganter Remix) by Pink Ganter

Killing One Softly

Broken Social Scene's Sweetest Kill was one of my favorite tracks since I saw them perform it during a very long and self-indulgent set several years ago (prior to the also-self-indulgent album Forgiveness Rock Record). And look, now there's a video. It's kinda violent.

(

via xkcd

the Rapture

a few weeks late in seeing this, but still damn funny.

The uke has trifle healing powers...

Yesterday was a mentally atrocious day. I couldn't wipe myself off the proverbial floor for hours. Hours. And although my mind and body felt a proactive desperation to do anything to distract myself, I couldn't think of anything to do or eat or smell that would be a surefire mood enhancer. Not one farking thing.

At least I knew that classic Julia Nunes could, in the very least, make me smile.

It's a Wild Wild Wood

Happy Birthday, Paul Weller.

Paul Weller & Portishead - Wildwood -remix

Pieces

by artist Myeongbeom Kim

Bento Bliss

Album covers as bento boxes. Yep.

Path to the Dark Side

Pop Chart Lab has hipster goo smeared all over it but you gotta admit, their stuff is fun. If I enjoyed beer, video games, or rap as much as the next person, I would consider buying any one of these prints.

500 Days of Jeff & Britta

this edit is priceless. priceless.

the inaugural post

After years of dormancy, I've decided to post something. This is rather uneventful for all of us, I know. But contrary to my general misanthropic outlook on life for the past two years, I feel that it's in my best interests to post about good, positive, fun and inspirational things...just as a reminder to me that all does not necessarily go to shit.