Wednesday, December 2, 2009

The greatest thought train

So my friend Don Stahl posted something about pudding on Twitter. It made me think of Barry and Levon on the state and them having a bunch of pudding in the trunk of their car. Alas, all I could find was the $240 worth of pudding sketch when I looked up "Barry and Levon state pudding" on Youtube. So I expanded my search to just "Barry and Levon" and...fuck...the greatest thing ever happened:

I haven't seen this movie. Nor have I heard of it. But trust me, I'm adding it to my Netflix queue (sorry, Frankenhood, but you've been bumped down to #2) and Barry Bostwick and I are gonna have some serious hang time via the tv real soon.

*EDIT: Fuck!!! This movie isn't available on Netflix?!?!?! Do I really buy a VHS copy from Amazon? Do I really? I think I need to see this*

ESL selling points

Turkish Menu

"an ingenious herd of charcoal fire"

I did a reading of this menu, complete with "soute spinach" and "mashroom salad" to an amused crowd of San Franciso-based house guests. Sean and I share a theory that lost in translation menus tend to have better and more authentic ethnic foods. When I ventured to actually eat at the newly opened Kestane Kebab on Nassau Ave in Greenpoint I was sorely disappointed to find that not only had they edited and reprinted their menus to take out the strange wording and misspellings, but the food was fucking terrible. Oh well.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Hidden ASSets (yeah, it's that kind of pun)

I learned something during the two and a half years I worked as a shop girl at Barneys New York, fashion trends are dictated by the bodies and neurosises of middle-aged white woman. Everything on the sales floor was designed to hide a bulging belly and a flat ass and compliment the legs and occasionally the bust. There are two body types that seem to pervail among that consumer set, one is that peskily annoying kind called "perfect" gained from daily gym routines and some expensive surgical sculpting and the other is the "apple". Apples gain weight in their stomach and chest yet always manage to have a pair of gorgeous legs. It's a bewildering genetic mishap, but it seems to be the norm in a lot of white ladies and guess what, most of the super rich ladies in New York are white ladies (well that or Jews, and lord I wish the Jewish conspiracy was real because I would take my piece of that pie in a minute.)

My job at Barneys was essentially making these women feel good about themselves. Complimenting their bodies and catering to their insecuritie. Often this was done at the expense of my own pride. Nothing beats having a woman ask you what your pant size is. If you tell them a 28 then they invariably answer that they must be a 27 then. They want to be skinnier than you, prettier than you, more stylish that you. Richer than you isn't enough, it's a competition and since they are paying your bills via commission, you have to let them win.

So what do you do? You pull things from the rack and tell them how much you wish you could have them. Accent their privileges. Tell them they are crazy if they say anything negative about their portly mid-section and in the case of the "perfects" you don't bad an eyelash when they "accidentally" open the fitting room door with no shirt or bra on top. I've seen more pairs of fake tits working in retail than your average porn addict. My favorite kind of breast implants are the ones on older ladies, I love a 53-year-old with the tits of a 22-year-old. Also, these women tend to wear lace or other types of see-through thongs so you have to be prepared to catch glimpses of snatch, hairless or not.

One thing almost of all these women had in common was a severe case of ass-anxiety. If they had any roundness in backside they would lament it's hugeosity. If it was tiny and flat like most of the asses than came through the Barneys sales floor they would flock to the ugliest and most embellished of jeans. Being exposed to such extreme tactical body-consciousness made me look at the way everyone dresses differently. Suddenly I saw everything in terms of smoke and mirrors, a plan for attact. The body an assemblage of shapes and sections trying to reach an idealized whole, and the ass just gets left out of the equation. I won't go into the psychology of white ladies and their butts, but it's deep and weird. While I feel this anguished game of body camoflauge is acceptable in the elder New York rank and file, it really upsets me when I see the younger, much more stylish generation hiding their behinds and embracing styles that negate them entirely.

Long blazers, harem pants, drop-crotch, tulip skirts, draped wraps and cardigans, these styles line the racks of New York cool style-hegemonist boutiques. They are an all-out assault on the visibility of a woman's ass. Recently I was at an art opening, the crowd was full of fashionable ladies with nary a curve of rump in site. Maybe it's a backlash from the booty-licious high-waist trend, maybe it's flat-assed white girls hiding what they lack, embracing a trend much like their elders embraced the trapeze dress that's all about hiding. Not that flowy is the only order, there were plenty of skin-tight bandage dresses at that opening, but all of them were paired with loose-fitting long blazers that completely covered the wearers butt.

Fashion 101 teaches us girls that you are supposed to choose legs or tits, when dressing in a revealing manner, but what about the ass? The A has been left out of the precious equation of T and A. Then again, tits have been embattled for about a decade now, a bony sternum seen as infinitely more desirable in too many young girl's eyes than a lucious pair of melons. With most of the low-cut draped tops being bra-suicide, those of us with tits have had to sit back and let certain styles pass us by, but now, seriously, what the fuck do they want me to wear?

Not that skin isn't in. The mid-riff is back, cut-outs are all the rage, and the dueling throw-back Kellys (Bundy and Kapowski) are all the word amongst the collegiate fashion blog set. The ribcage has made a serious comeback as well, but while I don't know any dude who doesn't appreciate a well-placed flash of skin, it seems like the math is all wrong. Maybe I'm just a simpleton. I come from the meat and potatoes sexuality of the midwest where the best is in the basics. I don't' particularly see the difference between a young girl wearing an oversize blazer over her ass and an older woman hiding in a tunic and leggings. Nothing is intrinsically wrong with either look, but good lord, when you are in your 20s why hide that sweet sweet behind?

Take this girl for example. I get the genius weirdness of these extreme drop-crotch Commes Des Garcons pants, but I wonder what she looks like from behind. I'm sure she has a lithe lovely body and she just looks like a rectangle. Sure, it's not always about sex, but squarepants are for cartoons, not for a lady. Then again, maybe I'm just on the pervy side and want to be able to imagine what attractive people look like without their clothes.

oak no ass
Probably something like this. Seriously, is this the standard? Does Oak really want to sell me these pants by representing the fact that they make an ass invisible? Is it the cut or the casting, but either way, it bums out my bum.

Actually I'll probably be putting my feelings about Oak into words very shortly and unfortunately they won't be of the nice variety. They have the worst merchandising I've ever seen in the Bond Street store and their buys are boring as fuck.

Frankly I think this whole oversize blazer trend makes everyone except for supermodels look like they raided their mom's old closet stash.
chloe chicos
Maybe I lack refinement but to me it looked like Chloe's Spring 2010 collection was gearing up for "Chicos kind of day."

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Closet Rocks

aka another "Fuck you, buy me" post regarding Ebay.

I've got another post up on the Vice blog:
entitled Closet Rocks

It's what is most likely going to be the first of several Ebay posts. Essentially I am sick of blogs like Refinery29 posting Ebay scores that aren't deals and frankly are kind of lame in the realm of what I'd call I "score."

If you've spent about five minutes reading this blog you'd understand that there has been one underlying theme in my life for the past year and a half. I'm broke. In fact I don't technically have any expendable income that I should be spending on clothes, but guess what? I am a partner in a clothing store. I have worked in retail since I was fifteen. I'm around clothing all the time and it makes me want more. Plus almost everything I own I've put into my business and the rest of it is covered in holes and stains.

So, that makes it perfectly okay to troll Ebay for goods like this Black Sabbath promo necklace I've got coming in the mail, right?

And this Slayer number that arrived today:

Okay, okay, so this is just another case of Justification 101, but the post is primarily in the vein of an earlier one I did over here on Reality No-Show that got quite a few responses via the comments and in the real world amongst my friends who, like me, are dorky enough to talk about our blogs off the internet (I know, right?)

Thursday, November 5, 2009

On the subject of epiphanies

So my long lost (as in I haven't seen her since she rode through Nebraska with Kevin) buddy Elizabeth aka White Lightning posted an admission that she had a boner for Chad from Million Dollar Listing and I have to admit that as far as gross tv fantasies that's just beyond me.

However, in the sake of fairness (and since this blog used to deal with my obsession with bad reality tv pretty regularly) I will use her valour as a jump-off and just say that I had a much much much more embarassing tv-related incident than even a gross crush. Wanna know it? Here goes:

I had a romantic dream about one of the guys from the most current season of Tool Academy.

Yes, that's right. It wasn't an icky sticky sex dream mind you, but a we're dating and the world's against us scenario. Which tool was it you may wonder?

Big John aka Giant Tool

I know...I know...when I told Sean he said, "Well, at least he's from around Boston." Thanks for being understanding baby. I have to admit I was sad when that dude went home. The show was lacking when I no longer got to see his muscle tanks.

Oy vey.

The thing is, I didn't have a crush on the guy. I was just rooting for him and somehow that translated into a dream. Last night I had a dream I was tagging along with an acquaintence who was personal shopping with Little Wayne. He was super bummed because she kept insisting he try on girls clothes so I helped him sneak a bunch of skirts and dresses she'd pulled out of his dressing room when she wasn't looking. Yeah, who knows.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Convent Party

So I told the Vice readership all about the fun and crazy performance I was in last weekend at the St. Cecilia convent in Greenpoint. The performance at the convent was a great success and a total blast. Things got a little sloppy at the second performance at the Legion but everyone had a blast and if nothing else we confused the hell out of a lot of people.

I didn't get any pics of the actual performance because, well, I was in it, but the preparations were a blast. Pre-show shotguns in the convent basement:



Make-up time:



Costume cross-over:


Smoking in the convent basement is for sinners:


The happiest of ghosts:


AND...the post show!!!



Celebratory shotguns...

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

A Question

Who advertises their nanny services atop a gravestone?
Well apparently someone on Graham Avenue does because this sign in the the window of the monument shop near Metropolitain. The grave makers also sell fresh bakery goods. For some reason buying bread from a gravestone purveyor seems unseemly, but maybe that's just me.

Friday, October 23, 2009

If you've got nothing to do

then come to this!

If you've got something to do, ditch your plans and come anyway!!!

Exquisite Nun Corpse aka Say Yes to Life

Friday, October 16, 2009

Two more things

Ryan Turner's Outcast collection dropped @ Urban Outfitters.

I blogged about it for Vice You Don't Have to Slam Junk to Wear Leather

I'm sick. And Europa is having an inspection so the downstairs will be closed so I won't be DJing the Saint Vitus show tonight, but of course I'm still dragging my half dead ass there. Can't be missed!

Check out my write-up at Vice as well (yes, yes I know, I need some original Reality No Show content soon.)

Saint Vitus History Lesson

I heart Wino!!!!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Cult of Youth TOUR DATES!

So my magical boyfriend Sean is touring with his band Cult of Youth. You should go see them if you are in any of these cities. They are amazing (and I'm not just saying that because of Sean!)


Plus they are touring with Baltimore's Death Domain (ex-SIDS)

Friday October 9, 2009:

Cult of Youth
Death Domain
Mean Mugger
Invisible Crack
DJ Deadbeat

Division Gallery
1353 Division St
Detroit, MI 48207

9 pm // $5 // ALL AGES

Saturday October 10, 2009:

BloodLust! Presents:

Cult of Youth
Death Domain
Anatomy of Habit

Viaduct Theatre
3111 N. Western Avenue
Chicago, IL 60618

10:30 PM // $8 // 18+


Event Links:
Troniks/Chondritic Sound:


Sunday October 11, 2009:

deathfolk from brooklyn. think: swans on quaaludes.

minimal synthwave. cold, dark, damp.
think: if garth marenghi played synth.
backed up zola jesus in nyc.

dark intense folkery

madison's very own synth darlings. current backing band for zola jesus.

The Wisco
852 Williamson St
Madison WI 53703

10PM // $5 // 21+

Monday October 12, 2009:

*Minimal Wave & Neo-Folk Invade St. Louis*

5226 Gravois
St. Louis, MO 63116

9PM // $5 // 18+

Thursday October 15, 2009:

Cult of Youth
Death Domain
AntiMagic (Ex- These Are Powers)
Diamond Black Hearted Boy

The Triple
3306 West Broad Street
Richmond, VA

10 PM // 21+

Blogging about blogging on another blog

Ouch, I know. I am the anti-poacher too. Maybe it's a sensitivity to fashion blogs that are merely repostings of other fashion blogs or just image selections. I'm a grump, a writer. Not that my posts on here seem to consist of anything aside from links to my Vice posts. What can I say? Now that I'm quasi-professional I give them a lot of the goods. But even more, I can't say that I would ever interview someone for this blog, I'd feel like I was wasting their time. After all this is pretty much an exercise in me, my thoughts and opinions. But Vice has an actual readership that counts above the low hundreds and that makes it worthwhile to bug someone to talk to me about stuff I think is cool.

So I interviewed Jack from Endless Blockades about his awesome blog. Afterall, if I just reposted a few of my favorite awesome images that I found on his blog I'd be doing everything I hate. But what makes his site so addictive is that it relies on submissions as well as forums. It's not like some fashion blogs where someone just went to and picked out a few designer looks from the most recent fashion week. There is actual love, care, and time in seeking out these images from all over the world. And there is such pride in the submitters and makers.

Anyway, pointless rant aside, here's the link to my interview with Jack of Endless Blockades on Vice

Endless Blockades

Friday, September 25, 2009

Samantha Pleet Redux

I wrote a fairly detailed behind-the-scenes post about the Samantha Pleet presentation over on the Vice Blog but I took too many pictures for just one post. I avoided including too many photos of the lovely Louise and Angela because of another behind-the-scenes that will be posted as soon as Angela finishes the Cheek-ie lookbook. Louise was one of the lovely models and I got the most power shots of her and I already wrote about her photo opening. I mean hell, I love these ladies, but I've got to diversify a little bit. But here I have free reign to talk about my friends as much as I want. Professionalism be damned!

Pleet's collection was adorable. Decade-spanning yet clean, it was solid and totally wearable, something I can't given enough praise for. Not only was it wearable, but it was in I WANT so many pieces.

You can take a look at her complete Spring 2010 lookbook here. There are some winners that weren't featured in the presentation like these lovely pieces:

I can't help it, I've been feeling printed pants so hard lately. I keep buying them via thrift and not wearing them but admiring them on others. I don't know what's keeping me from them...

In my official write-up I didn't include the magical film attached to the collection directed by my friend David Black and Jacqueline Di Milia. Sonically it's not my bag but the tune is appropriate nonetheless.

Samantha Pleet - Spring 2010 from Samantha Pleet on Vimeo.

Turner styling.

A convenient pose with lookbook

Louise's legs in the leaf romper that she eventually changed out of for another look.

Coco looking way too bored.

Angela looking unconvinced about this hairstyle.

Man busts and hat assortment.

Look, it's a naked Carlen!

The set was pretty special.

More of Coco sitting around looking bored albeit gorgeous. Energy!

Lovely ladies/buddies

Louise has the best "work it" face, pure gold.


Last minute primping



Tuesday, September 15, 2009

I Lost My Time in a Magic Vortex

Facebook is going to be the death of me. Now that I've expanded beyond simple social networking and begun playing Dungeon & Dragons: Tiny Adventures. It's been going non-stop for a few days now. I got my boyfriend hooked too. Now we're spending our evening's buffing each other's characters from different computers in the same house. It's bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's an awesome application. And since it makes you wait between rounds it's not that encompassing. So it's not like I'm spending 14 hours a day playing World of Warcraft (I would never dare set foot in that realm, I'm obsessive when it comes to that shit, a prime candidate for life-wasting.) But still, it's getting a little out of hand.

Between Tiny Adventures (my Eldarin Wizard is a level 8, only three more levels til retirement and then I start again as a generation 2!) and...gulp...I hate to admit this to you guys...Sorority Life I really think I'm ruining my life. Seriously, I have a sorority girl whose body I inhabit and I befriend other girls I don't know via this game and team up to fight other girls. And to become friends with these girls in the game you have to be their friend in the real realm of Facebook which means I've actually added thirty or so strangers from around the world to my friends list just so I can grow my sorority and fight other girls more effectively and get better prizes...I know, I can't believe I'm explaining it or admitting it or even worse, PLAYING IT.

Bringing the embarassment of Sorority Life into it makes the Tiny Adventures thing much more acceptable. First of all, wizards and dragons and castles and orbs of mental dominion are awesome, sorority girls are not. Second aside from outfitting your character to maximize bonuses for specific adventures and the social act of healing and buffing your friend's characters, the game is pretty passive. So why am I dreaming about it? Seriously, I had a dream the other night where my actions were dependent on scores and a countdown timer and my adventures were hindered by an unknown force (aka the dungeon master!) deciding my fate. Really Bev? This is the stuff your dreams are made of? I couldn't even dream about orcs or any of the cool shit in the game, just the scoring tactical portion of it. LAME. You'd think a D&D-related dream would be much more epic than that.

FUCK! My character just failed a Constitution check and gets -5 Charisma for five adventures. I'm getting concerned about Grenabaul the Eldarin Wizard, she's not doing so well in her adventure, "The Song of the Dark Druid". She failed it once already last night but I really thought I had it this time. That's the problem with wizards, they are high on intelligence but low on constitution, strength, and wisdom and my inventory of weapons isn't doing enough to help it. See? These are issues of serious concern!

Tiny Adventures Screen Shot

For a relative virgin to this sort of gaming I feel like I'm doing okay. I have to admit that a big part of the reason I was so willing to mock my friend's boyfriend when I saw him at his computer with a headset on playing World of Warcraft was fear that there but for the grace of elves there go I. An appropriate addendum to this example is that when my friend found a scorpion in her closet (they live in a wooded area just outside of Austin, TX) she had to beg him to tear himself away from the game to kill it. He entered the bedroom, sword in hand, and vanquished the tiny poisonous foe. Aforementioned boyfriend just happens to be the singer in fantasy metal band The Sword, so despite what you all may think of their music (they have a lot of haters out there,) their name is truly their weapon of choice and the singer, JD, truly knows his wizardly shit. Regardless, it is a good escape for the distraction from the annoyances and stresses of the real world, but seeing him made me realize that could easily be me in the headset missing dinner due to a prearranged online gaming meeting with a bunch of buddies.

Then again that dude goes on tour with Metallica so I think we can let a little gaming slide. But while it's not ruining his life I have a very real fear of it ruining mine. Tiny Adventures seemed like the perfect compromise for my desire to engage in epic adventures with little concentration or time commitment but somehow I've managed to turn what is essentially D&D lite into a time-killer. Is it wrong that I'd rather sit at home and half-watch episodes of Ranma 1/2 while making sure my character makes it through a level 8 adventure than go to all these Fashion Week parties I've been made aware of? Actually, maybe I'm doing okay.

Friday, September 11, 2009

Odyn Vovk up on Vice!

The behind-the-scenes rundown of the Odyn Vovk show is posted up on Vice.

Click here to check it out, there are tons of pics too!

I didn't get any pics at the afterparty because I was too busy DJing, my camera was almost dead, and everyone fucking hung out in the back yard where I couldn't go because I was tied to the decks! Bummer. Still it was a blast. Playing Immortal and Mayhem at Sweet and Vicious was extremely satisfying although it seemed to bum out the staff pretty heavily aside from my buddy Brain who dug it. And there is nothing like having a crowd of your own kind in a bar that doesn't cater to you. A girl I recognized as a former customer at The Good The Bad & The Ugly came up and gushed about hearing Burzum. I gushed back, excited that she caught it. And I doubt those turntables have seen an Asschapel LP since well, when Stefan and I DJed the Kylesa afterparty on Halloween there nearly four years ago.

I'll post some of the outtakes from the Vice piece later, including my favorite category of photo, unflattering pictures of male models.

Warehouse of Horrors

Shoe Try-on (2)

So I meant to post this last week. I wrote it for the Vice Blog but we didn't have time to post it before the sale ended (for some reason people don't work on Labor Day...weird.) I thought all was lost in the holiday time crunch until I remembered, oh yeah, wait, I have my own blog that I neglect and I can post things on it...doy.


I recently bad-mouthed the Barneys Warehouse sale. Well time to come clean, I caved and I went. It was every bit as terrifying as I remembered although I managed to go late enough so I missed the line which sometimes wraps around the block. Waiting in line to spend money...not my idea of a good time. Upon entering through security I saw my sanctuary shining right in front of me. The shoes.


The shoes at the warehouse sale are the best bargain and the items least likely to be totally ravaged by the horders. I've got big fucking feet, years of retail, including two plus at the main Barneys New York location, has expanded them to between a size 10 or 10 1/2. Thankfully not a lot of other women do and the few in need of clodhoppers aren't into giant platform insanity that makes their already big feet look monstrous. I don't mind it, I think they balance out my hips, but maybe that's just one of those things I tell myself to feel okay about something I can't change.

Shoe Try-on

After navigating the shelves of shoes you grab a single you like and wait in line with a bunch of impatient women until a stock person emerges from a gigantic stockroom, takes your shoe, and hopefully returns with it's mate in a box. One year I found my dream shoes only to have the stock girl tell me the mate was MIA forever. Bummercity. A tense middle-aged woman dressed in all-black with what looked like meth scratches on her face kept pacing behind me asking every stock girl who came out if they had her shoes, accusing every non-white female of being the person who helped her although none of them had. Thankfully they found the mates to my potential scores trauma-free and of course my broke-ass being there in the name of research (I swear!) fell in love with a pair.

This was my first warehouse sale as a non-employee having avoided it for the past few seasons. The Warehouse Sale is kind of a crock, at least for the first couple of weeks. Nothing is cheaper in the warehouse than it is during the final markdown period in the stores. The same goes for Century 21 by the way. In fact at times items in that discount department store sell for more than the final markdown price the retailers unloading their goods sell them for in their own shops. And during sale time at Barneys there is at least a modicum of order. There is no reason to descend into the chaos which is a million times worse than any sample sale I've ever been too. Not that it's the staff's fault, controlling the masses of women who clutch desperately onto their Balenciaga sweaters marked down to $394 from $1200 is pretty much impossible. Clothing litters the floor, the jeans table is one giant knot of denim and keeping the shoe selection properly divided by size is literally a full-time job.

The concept of "cheap" is of course relative. As is the idea of a "deal." In fashion this becomes even more skewed when one takes into consideration the justifications for pricing: quality, rarity, status, concept, etc. Still, there is a bottom line for most everyone when it comes to purchasing things and even if the whopping $1290 pricetag on a pair of handwoven Bottega Veneta printed leather platform sandals can be justified in the painstaking crafting it still doesn't make me any more apt to spend two months rent on them. Comparatively, their final in-store markdown of $354 may seem like a bargain but that still doesn't make me able to afford them. However, this is where the Warehouse Sale has it's merit. As the days count down towards the end of the sale the prices drop. First a sign is posted by the shoe section that says "50% off marked down price" then the "50% is crossed out and replaced with a "60%", then in the final days the "60%" turns into a magical "75%" and there you are, at the finish line. Barneys will not sell you goods any cheaper than what is essentially 75% off of 75% off of retail. The clothing is quicker to be marked down going straight from 50% off to 75%. Seem too much of a hassle to negotiate? I don't blame you. But there are dedicated fans of the stalk and shop. Men and women who covet an item, visit it, watch it as the markdowns progress, waiting for the last possible moment to purchase it. Some cave before the warehouse sale. Some cave during the first round of markdowns. It's all a game of chance. The longer you wait the greater the possibility that someone else will swoop up and pick up the item. Barneys relies on this shopper paranoia during the first week of the sale.

The paranoia essentially worked on me. I visited the sale on Friday when the shoes were still at 60% off. I found the aforementioned Bottega Veneta printed leather platform sandals. I did the math, 60% off of $354 was just barely within range of what I could pay but more than I should. But they were calling to me and I couldn't resist. So beautiful, so tall, I imagined them with tights in the fall, with shorts next summer, told myself even though they were floral printed it wasn't "too floral". Convinced myself the style looked vintage enough not to be out of style ever. Fuck it, I knew I was getting them as soon as I found them.

Denim pile

I tried to shop the rest of the sale and quickly got discouraged. Everything I wanted was still $600. Fuck that. And yes, I could have bought a pair of jeans for $40 but did I really need them? Somehow they didn't seem as special next to a rack of tattered Vionnet silk gowns. Hell I almost bought a silver metallic knit Dries Van Noten skirt that looked terrible on me just because it was gonna cost me less than $100. In such an atmosphere it is difficult to judge anything on it's own merits. Everything is relative and suddenly it seems okay to spend $80 on a Stella McCartney t-shirt because you know it's the only thing from the line you'll be able to afford.


Thankfully common sense won over my desire to own designer goods. I got in the treacherously long line and waited for twenty minutes before I was rung up. The cashier mistakenly took 75% off the shoes instead of 60% and suddenly I was out of there having paid $108 for a pair of platforms that originally retailed at $1290.

The Shoes

End Note:

The shoes I scored were the Bottega Veneta fisherman's sandal. I wore them tonight actually. Sean and I went to some art openings and then Morimoto. We got out of dinner just as it started to rain, about 10:45. We were in the Meatpacking District right when Fashion's Night Out ended. Getting a cab was a fucking nightmare but the shoes looked amazing with my olive tights and plum jacket. Hurrah!

Also, this sale ended up costing me an extra $100 since someone swiped my meds from my purse. Yeah, I know, not my wallet but a bottle of a very non-recreational anti-anxiety medication and another bottle that contained 1/2 of a klonopin...not a very recreational dosage. Fuckers!

Friday, September 4, 2009

Jersey Shore!


Glen, Audrey and I went down to the Jersey Shore and had a basically awesome time. I had to get back to work so I missed out on a mushroom enhanced bike ride and potential karaoke but we did hit the strip and shopped our butts off. It's discount heaven with a lot of tie-dye thrown in.

I wrote about it for the Vice Blog, so click here for the full run down.

Aside from shopping we spent a couple of hours with Sadie at the dog beach. It wasn't fancy and we had to share it with a fat kayaker whose boat was named "The Emotion". That's right, no motion in the ocean puns, just plain old "Emotion"...laaaaame.



Of course the astro-turf set-up was Glen's idea and btw, that's no an American flag beach towel but a fucking poncho...what else could I expect?


The only rule was that the dog had to be on a leash that was held at all times. There was no length restriction so we found a nylon rope in Glen's van (that's not rapey at all dude) and tied it to the end of Sadie's regular leash so she was free to run around almost as much as she pleased although she somehow managed to reach the end of the longest leash ever a few times while playing fetch in the bay.


I look so posey here but I really wasn't. Audrey said she wanted to take some pics of me and I didn't know when she was taking them exactly. I throw like a girl.

Best dog ever