Sunday, June 28, 2009


I saw Eric Roberts involved in a weird scene on Magazine Street while in NOLA.

Check out the story I wrote for Vice about it.

Cult of Youth

So it's been a while, I know. Been working and traveling. I'll have words soon, but until then, my baby played at Santos Party House last night with Jarboe, Bloody Panda, and IUD. Cult of Youth was amazing, as the sound in this video will demonstrate.

Monday, June 8, 2009



Everyone loves a theme party. At least those of us with a closet full of demented garb begging to be worn. It's a way to riff on a life you will never have. Whether it be appropriating the customs of the meatheads and the boozed-out babes who used to antagonize you in your youth, or exercising that childhood dream of running off to join the cirucs, a well executed theme is hard to resist. Especially for chicks who have an almost primal need to play dress up. For dudes it is more about occupying the role of supreme party participant and dressing the part only improves ones chances to reach "life of the party" status. I went to two very different theme nights the weekend before last. A spring break party full of straight dudes who were raised on punk, the anti-frat, doing beer bongs and the final Animal Train Happening. The latter was the seventh and final installment of a series of collaborative parties put on by New York Night Train DJ Jonathan Toubin (the Jew with the most soul) and the crew at Live With Animals (many of whom also play in Golden Triangle.) This final blow-out bash had a circus theme and featured two bands, a hula-hoop performer, a contortionist, and celebrity DJ Jon Spencer.

I arrived to Glasslands early thinking early to party early to bed. That didn't end up happening but it did give me a good chance to survey the scene before it was crowded with sweaty bodies. In these days when it's rare that anyone put effort or love much less time into anything, the lovingly decorated space was amazing. From cotton candy to a projector running a loop of scary old-timey clown heads the beauty was in the details.

It became immediately apparent that aside from the DJ/Ringmaster Jonathan Toubin, the serious costumes were mostly on the ladies and the gays. Jon Spencer didn't even dress up and despite my extra harsh ears when it comes to "celebrity DJs" I must admit his music selections were superior.

Vashti, queen bee of Live with Animals of course looked ridiculously amazing while orchestrating the event.

Sexy majorette Carly dancing her ass of pretty much all night was a sight to behold. She and Vashti are part of the dancing duo the Marmaladies. They make any event better because they have one mission, to dance and they do it so well it makes everyone else want to join in. I want that costume for reasons I don't even know. I'm sure it would come in handy in some context.

This girl was such a perfect combination of scary/amazing that when she perched behind the popcorn booth and started blowing bubbles I nearly got the chills.

Come on!

Genius drag tip, if the shoes don't fit, tape 'em.

Try Cry Try played with their singer Raul dressed in some serious demon drag crossed with a touch of dirty Dee Snider. With the cross-armed crowd epidemic New York shows can get so boring. It takes someone with balls, albeit balls uncomfortably separated by a thong, to get people going.

There are no words to explain the performance, just take a look at this picture. Trust me, it was way more punk rock than drag show.

Then there was this guy. He appeared around 2 am in full costume out of nowhere. He danced his swimsuited ass off to Preacher and the Knife when they invited everyone on stage. I'm not sure what circus performer he was supposed to be, he looked more Spring Break to me.

Check out that ass.

Preacher and the Knife rounded out the night. They somehow transferred their sound from Birthday Party revival worship with a hint of Captain Beefheart to Afrobeat Calypso party band with a white Fela Kuti pacing around the stage. They also have the best drummer ever.

Mister Barcelowsky

Obligatory baby shot.

This just makes me laugh.

Somehow I ended up dancing on stage to Ike & Tina's I Idolize You stone cold sober wearing nothing but a crop top and bike shorts covered in skulls. Okay, so that's probably more carnie than circus, but didn't that motorcycle stunt man who rode circles in a caged sphere that always made me think of the Thunderdome always have a slutty looking assistant? Sometimes the party takes you above and beyond.


If you want to check out the entire album go to my FLICKR Album

Sunday, June 7, 2009


So I've got something exciting to share with all of you. I'm working my way into becoming a partner in my friend Marissa's vintage store, Fox and Fawn. Over the next couple of months expect lots of updates, photos, and fun times. I'm spending my summer on Suffolk Street (112 Suffolk) to be exact. I'm very very excited. We have a lot of plans in the works and aim to keep it the most gently priced vintage store this (or any side) of the East River. We also buy from the public so if you have rad threads that you want some cash for or if you want to trade them in for new ones come by. I'll be in the store Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturdays, but we're open seven days a week.

In other news I'm going to New Orleans the 11-16. If anyone has any tips or pointers let me know. Sean and I will be DJing at the Saint on the 12th and 13th.

Oh and I bought this on Ebay...and yes, I took of the tanktop halfway through the night. Summer finally, hallelujah! Mama's finally gonna start working again.

Nebraskans Eat

About a month ago I wrote a preview for the Taste of Nebraska event for the Vice Blog. My editor over there asked me if I could write an event preview for something happening that upcoming weekend and that is what I came up with. Of course I sincerely doubt that anyone actually came to the Nebraska Society of New York's event because of my posting but it sure did make Glen's mom happy.

It was a blast, well it least it became one once we got the DJ set-up figured out. Of course the manager was not a sound guy and I ended up having to figure everything out myself, but at least my free admission was well-earned. I was thrust into the role of volunteer and Nebraskans are so damn nice I couldn't very well say no. After setting up the MC who hailed from Red Cloud (most known for the Brandon Teena murder portrayed in Boys Don't Cry) I was finally free to wander around and get my grub on. I ran into two people from my high school, one I was on Student Council with, Emily Chen who brought up our soon approaching 10-year reunion. Class of 2000, oy vey. I'm not going, I've got nothing to prove, and more importantly nothing to show off aside from the fact that I'm like 30 pounds lighter than I was in high school and the fact that I have a super rad boyfriend that none of them would appreciate. I can't imagine going to a reunion sober and me. I'm in touch with everyone I need to be from my class and have no desire to reconnect with anyone else. Besides, there's always Facebook for that.

I stayed the night before at Sean's house so I wasn't dressed for the event. My "Poppa Husker" shirt unfortunately spent the afternoon languishing on my bedroom floor. Glen. on the other hand, was dressed for the event. He had it down to the footwear:


The big man behind the DJ booth which unfortunately didn't have turntables...after all the trouble we went through it ended up being a laptop sort of day.

You know, until I wrote the write-up for Vice I didn't feel any nostalgia for Nebraska food, least of all Valentinos. Vals as it's commonly called was the site of many a soccer team banquet dinner and childhood birthday party. It's locally famous for it's buffet which I will admit is impressive. More baffling is how it's sweet gloppy pizza is consistently voted the best in town by locals year after year. Papa Johns is better than that crap. The only worse pizza in town is probably Godfathers or maybe Ramos. But my family's scorn for Valentino's had led me to forget their crowning glory, their Dessert Pizza!

It doesn't look like much, but GOD DAMN it's good. Hot apple filling, struesel topping, and a cream cheesey icing. Fuck, I can't even explain how awesome it is. I hadn't tasted it since those birthday parties of my youth, and now it's going to be hard to avoid a trip there when Sean and I visit in July.

Another local obsession are Kolaches. I never quite got their appeal, to me they seem like an inferior Danish, but I guess it's a Czech heritage sort of thing. I was more stoked on these cinnamon rolls I hadn't tasted since I was a little girl and the best ice cream ever from the UNL Dairy, more famous as the home of Husker Cheese (I know, sounds a little gross, right?)

There was a silent auction featuring several items donated from Nebraska businesses, the most humorous to me being the Bright Eyes and Cursive gift packs from Saddle Creek Records.

"Nebraska...enjoy flying over us"

Dorothy Lynch Dressing, the stuff of childhood nightmares. I was salad-phobic and this orange concoction scared the crap out of me.

Glen digging into the most important of Nebraska delicacies, the RUNZA!

These savory beef and cabbage pockets are a little bit of heaven. I smuggled three home in my purse to share with Sean. So good. Even working for almost a year at their now-closed 50's theme restaurant Rock N Roll Runza during my high school vegetarianism didn't traumatize me enough to not want to indulge in their deliciousness.

One hell of a t-shirt, but doesn't Glen look mean?

I asked him to stop making his mean face and this is what he gave me instead. I think I like the mean face better.

It was crowded, a sea of mostly red and white, or should I say scarlet and cream as those are the official Husker colors.

I tried so hard to get a good picture of the lady in pink on the left. She was in full LARP gear and her nametag said "Lady" somethingorother. I wussed out and only got a crappy aerial shot from the DJ booth.

Someone wanted a photo of all the Husker garbed people together. She asked for my help. I fled the scene.

I'll leave you with a photo of Glen's souvenir, the least practical, most flammable candle holder of all time.