Month: June 2010

supermarket sweep.


Newest Supermarket Favs.
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now i’m gonna whip up a lil’ poem:
.
vodka
scotch
bourbon,
hello.
hello again!
j’aime tacos.
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F..U..C..K….,….T..H..A..T..’..S….D..E..E..P…..

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Categorized as . Tagged

ooh rexy, you’re soo . . .


Fabexy. One of Mine
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I am just now realizing that aimlessly wandering EVERY AISLE of my hometown video store as a tweenasaur (heygirlhey mishawaka hollywood video) was a totally epic waste of my money considering I always left with the same five fucking films EVERY TIME:
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1. For Love or Money
2. Drop Dead Fred
3. History of the World: Part 1
4. Blazing Saddles
5. Empire Records
.
Why didn’t I see the trend and just buy them on VHS?!
I could have saved up for coolshit I really wanted!
Man, this is tragic. Like, really tragic:
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I would have been able to buy maybe a dozen novelty key chains from Claire’s or like an entire portfolio of Glamour Shots® or, ohmygodshutup, the trampoline hanging from the ceiling at Sam’s Club.  Wooaaah, Rod Stewart was sooo right:

I wish
that
I knew
what
I know
now
when
i was
younger.

please explain [explicitly].


Vintage School Map, Water On The Earth. Ladies & Gentlemen
.

why are you so [explicit participial phrasing] gorgeous?
why are you so [explicit participial phrasing] typetastic?
why are you so [explicit participial phrasing] expensive?
.
please,
tell me
.
W…H…Y….

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Categorized as . Tagged

todoosday.


Reminders. Recovering Lazyholic by Erin Hanson
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So it looks like after we all get it on with some goodmorning fibers (I’m gonna do me with a busty bowl of trader joe’s high fiber fruit and nut multigrain medley cereal – ooohhhyeaaah), we’re pretty much done for the day. Obvs I have ideazies:
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Let’s go to the motherfuckingbeach!
Let’s go to the motherfuckingbronxzoo!
Let’s go to the motherfuckingboweryballroom!
Let’s go to the motherfuckingbrooklynbotanicalgarden!
Let’s go to the motherfuckingbicentennialthirtyfouryearsago!
.
Yeah?
Yeah?
Am I right?
Am I right?
.
(Answer: I’m always right)

hey, june.


June 2010. Flickr Scavenge
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Hey. I know we haven’t hung out in a long time and you’re leaving really soon, but these past four weeks have more comfortable and easy than I ever expected.  You’ve been completely different than the other m’s, june.  So thoughtful and kind and willing to let this cool, quiet stillness takeover my worldspace that now, truth be told, I’m not quite ready to let you go.  Maybe, just for a little while longer, you could let me borrow your
.
circles on slow
suppers on stoops
blues on skies
sills on windows
drinks on blend
books on loan
projects on play
playlists on pause
wonders on worlds.
.
I know this is a lot to ask.
I know you need to get going.
I know nothing will make you stay.
.
but I love you.
.

I….L..O..V..E….Y..O..U….,….J..U..N..E

let’s be more than schmuck pals.


Locations. Matthew Lyons
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“Some people maybe have nine schmuck pals, but some people have twenty nine schmuck to talk about weather and what they do on weekend. Takes Dorothy nine day to get past smeg small talk and be your friend. Cassandra can do it in two day, but she has loads of hobby like soggy swimming and train the dog, so probably have something in common to turn you from schmuck to pal. Maybe when grow up we consider log as friend, or never care like its schmuck. There are people who need log and people who need fog, maybe depends what location humanoid grows in.”

– Matthew Lyons, 06/07/10

.
this i get.
this i love.
only because,
schmuck pals
will forever be
at the very top
of the very tiny
list of reasons
it gets unpretty
living my life here
in new york city.

dude.


The one in the middle. Paddy
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OHMYGOD.
.
I just read The Setup’s interview with Craig Mod and now I’m inappropriately infatuated.  I’msorrywhat?  You’ve never heard of him?  Okay, here.  Craig co-authors Art Space Tokyo, is the co-founding editor of TPUTH, and considers himself a “writer, designer, publisher and developer concerned with the future of publishing and storytelling.” Oh yeah. Did I mention he’s crazyhot?  Like, a total fucking dreamboat.
.
Thanks, internet.
I needed that.
.
K’BYE.

cookie monster.


CANDY. Terry Richardson’s Diary
.
Can I get real for a second? I can? Okay, thanks.
Here’s the deal: I reserve very little head space for the homeless.
I never (ever) spare my change and never (ever) make eye contact.
.
Yeah, yeah, it’s not always their fault.
Okay, fine, we all came into this world samezies.
Blah, blah, circle of mother fucking life, I’m a bad person.
.
But I want you to know that I feel, like really feel, for those vagrant lost boys (read: dirty teens / grown ass adults with slumdogs and face tats). I don’t know man, but something about them takes me straight to sadtimes in a serious way. Maybe it’s because I secretly fear I’m only a few reckless ATM withdrawals away from completely failing at life to the point where my only remaining option is to plop a fresh duffel down next to them so I can argue all slurry tongued about park bench dibs and cigarette butts until it’s time to sleep under a newly erected gentrification station with my eyes open.
.
You think I’m kidding, but just last night I passed two of them on my way to grab a cheap Italian cookie (or 3) from DeRobertis Pasticceria and by the time I got to the bakery I was so full up on visions of life failures that I bought 2 chocolate hazelnut meringues just for the VLBs.  Then the three of us had this really lovely exchange:
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VLBs: ..slur slurry slur pat pat patting our ugly slumdog slur pat sneeze.
Me: ..HEY. ..these . . . these are just. ..HERE. ..they’re cookies. ..BYE.
VLBs: ..COOOOOOKIES!
.
The end.

own yo shit (even when you illegally sublet).


Justin Long getting spanked on W 4th Street. Terry Richardson’s Diary
.

Hey, kids!  Guess what? I brought presents!  Below is my secret stash of city hard candies that I wanna share with all you mad fresh mens and womens who just moved here.  Look, I know you really want to stop crying for no reason (seriously, stop it) and fuck it / fake it until you can afford the real thing, so why don’t you think of this list as a crazysexypool party for your self-esteem room / confidence sauna. Here ya go, my little newbie ninjas:
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Walk FASTER with BIGGER BALLS
a) ..If you don’t have the right of way, but the street is clear, WALK.
b) ..If you don’t have the right of way, but the light is changing, WALK.
c) ..If you don’t have the right of way, but the jam on your ipod says walk, WALK.
.
Wear ONLY things that you LOVE
a) ..Quit shopping at Gap/Old Navy/Banana Republic just because it fits.
b) ..Instead, take full advantage of NY Mag’s Sales & Bargains Calendar.
c) ..If you have to get buzzed into a sketchy building downtown, TOTALLY GO.
.
Try REALLY GREAT restaurants BY YOURSELF
a) ..Stop obsessing over how completely lame this sounds.
b) ..Sit at the bar with a badass book and befriend the bartender.
c) ..Be sure to find a common enemy and tip well.
.
Carry SPIFFY business cards AT ALL TIMES
a) ..Go to my favorite free font website and find the perfect typeface.
b) ..Buy a packet of business card paper and print 10-20 cards asap.
c) ..Bust them out to score big at jobtimes / friendtimes / sexytimes.
.
Also, it’s gonna be okay.
Even when it’s not okay.
.
Okay?
.
PS – I tried to own my shit at a party this weekend by opening up some aloof dude’s beer bottle with my mailbox key. I completely failed (obvs) and now, a whole 2 days later, I’m still having stigmata of the knuckles.  Clearly, I am a fuck it / fake it work in progress.

the one.


Tattoo Prep. JAK & JIL BLOG
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Yesterday I realized that almost all the gentlemen in (and out of) my life can be categorized as “the one who [blank].” I then decided it was absolutely necessary to test this theory using a fancy app I like to call ms notepad and save it to my desktop (for the record, obvs).  Here’s how it all went down:
.
the one who made the first move.
the one who got nicknamed “my big furry mistake” (rosen, 2005).
the one who wouldn’t stop inviting me to his comedy shows.
the one who always called while i was running errands (duane reade, the library, etc).
the one who texted a dinner party invite and said, “maybe be polite and bring some wine.”
the one who left with my fake number (a disconnected landline . . . in indiana).
the one who had to be asked, “do you really want to be talking right now?”
the one who kissed me on a dinosaur.
the one who stole $300 from a stranger’s wallet and bought everyone drinks.
the one who fell asleep.
the one who kept telling me how much he liked my friend patrick.
the one who booty called me just to play his video game and didn’t let me win.
the one who grew a terrible no good very bad 5 o’clock shadow.
the one who liked indie music and went to brown (older).
the one who liked indie music and went to brown (younger).
.
Okay, yes. I’ve seen .Citizen Kane.  I know condensing the essence of a man’s life to a mere phrase is cruel.  I am aware this is an overshare.
.
But, fuck it.
(haha, i said buttfuck it)
Who cares?
.
I’m sure they have one for me.

super attractive coolshit.


.
A few days ago I was wandering the internet (like ya do) and happened upon the website of contemporary artist Mark Mulroney. Mark received his MFA from UCSB, has exhibited with Mixed Greens, Gregory Lind Gallery, and the MCASD, and currently lives/works in Rochester.  Also, his artist bio is all types of awesome:
.
Mark Mulroney was born in Dutton, New York in 1977. Since then he has attended 12 years of Catholic school, traveled to Reno, Nevada and gone to a Black Sabbath reunion concert. When Mulroney is not busy with his many internet businesses he finds time to photograph his nephews after injuries and help his neighbors remove snow from their driveways.
.
Mark’s Super Attractive New Offer (whereby you mail him a self-addressed, stamped envelope and he mails you free stuff in return) was wayyy too tempting/exciting to ignore. Please feel free to be as jealous as you need of all my newly acquired coolshit.
.

Super Attractive New Offer
147 Congress Avenue
Rochester NY 14611

my morning, a little bit stranger.


Solar System. UrsulaAntares
.
I just downloaded Kitsune Noir’s Mixcast No. 37. It’s a compilation of songs that remind Bobby of his exes and it’s really thoughtful and lovely. As I walked out of Birch Coffee this morning, I was listening to his mixcast and “Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk” by Rufus Wainwright started playing. .While Rufus sang,
.
if i should buy jelly beans
have to eat them all in just one sitting
everything it seems i like’s a little bit sweeter
a little bit fatter, a little bit harmful for me
.
I looked down at my feet and saw there were jelly beans everywhere.

everything got funky last night.


Sleeveless Vented Shirt in White. Kelly Bergin
.
“LA-based designer Kelly Bergin puts the most beautiful spin on clothes that are fancy enough to compete in the realm of career separates. (digression: for ZZ Top fans, let it be known that it’s quite enjoyable to sing she wants career separates in place of she wanna pearl necklace.)”

– Stephanie Trong, NAAG

.
PS – Just in case you were wondering, here’s what men really think about fashion.

how ’bout them schoolbook cookies?


Jakitopi. One of Mine
.
Things I do on my work computer tend to fall into two categories: .SFW and NSFW.  I honestly have no idea why taking a picture (on my lunch break!) of a word (that I made up!) using a single serving of communal Cinnamon Schoolbook Cookies (that I bought!) felt extremely NSFW......
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PS – If you define jakitopi and use it in a sentence, I’ll buy you something awesome and send it to you at work . All your co-workers will be mad jealous, yo.
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PPS – If you re-arrange my schoolbook serving into a brand new word and define/use that word in a sentence, same-zies on my gift at work promise.

next.


Joseph Leonard. hello foto
.

I just got my 2nd missed connection in 2 years.
.
He says, we made eye contact and exchanged hellos.
I say, he hastily undressed me with his old man eyes
and then forced his hello upon me without my consent.
.
Dude, I am a 24 year old laaaayday.
.
I sit at the bar cause I like BARTENDERS.
I can count my married friends ON ONE HAND.
I had an entire pot of chocolate cream FOR DINNER.
.
You are too old to ride this ride.

please, lure me with your mighty blanket.


Amager am see. u n g t b l o d
.
“Men’s Health is also all about finding the sex in everyday activities, all using their signature blend of sciencey-sounding research, a veritable army of doctors, and questionable logic. For example, when at the beach, use a solid-colored blanket — women subconsciously associate stripes and patterns with children. Once you lure her to dinner with your mighty blanket, get the lady some lobster. Why? Because Lobsters are a great source of phosphorus, and phosphorus is ‘the K-Y Jelly of minerals.’ Did you know geology had an official lubricant? Once you get her home, light some scented candles — any scent but cherry. It inhibits sexual arousal, according to someone named Dr. Hirsch.

If you’ve made it that far, gents, you can probably go ahead and have sex. Just be aware that the lady will probably want to complete thirty or so naked activities first. Be prepared to make some naked cocktails, paint the house nude, or strip down to watch a movie. This month’s Cosmo — honest to God — suggests all three, with a caveat on the last: Avoid anything that’ll cause hearty belly laughs, like Superbad — a jiggly tummy won’t make you feel good.”

– Nerve, Ridiculous Tips for a Miserable Sex Life

animals be treatin’ themselves.


Welcome to the Fashion Zoo. Little Doodles
.
I might have mentioned this before in a short list of things that are only mildly weird, but my high school was across the street from the town zoo. The two times I arrived too late to get my ‘93 purple/gray camry a decent school side spot, I über reluctantly parked over there and discovered that, thanks to petty thieves (animals!), my windows were busted out and my drugstore discman, favorite BNL album (both the original and the replacement), and random backseat sundries were lost and gone forever. This could be the reason I really HATE being late. Not only is it quite rude, it’s very dangerous.
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Someone could lose a discman!

on a scale of 1 to nerd, nerd.


Bowls. Rob Cartelli Ceramics
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In high school, I took ceramics a lot, told AP physics to suck it, and was still Valedictorian because it was rural Indiana and just showing up not pregnant meant you were graduating cum laude [insert sex joke here]  Haha I just said insert.  Anyway, I completely forgot about this until I saw a photo of Rob’s bowls on my friend Rachel’s blog, but I loved that class so much that the one and only magazine I subscribed to back then with my hard earned B&N minimum wages was Ceramics Monthly.
.
Life ..was …G…R…A…N…D….

totes.


Typographic. Alphabet Bags
.

One of my absolute favorite under-the-radar lifemoments used to be when someone would call my name out loud.  In high school, just one hallway holler of  “MARSH!” and suddenly my whole head space was prepped, cleaned, and ready to host the world’s most epic sleepover.  In college, however, my friends and acquaintances seemed to prefer the rumblings of a really good full name, so my instant  mood elevator sounded a lot more like “Ehhhhhhmeeeeee MARSH!”  Nowadays though, living in a place full of strange and unfamiliar nobodies and somebodies, my goodtimes rarely originate in this way.  Of course there’s the occasional, ohmygodwhatareyoudoinghere, but actually recognizing a passing streetface and yelling his or her name out loud at full volume in the middle of the city seems to just thoroughly exceed almost everyone’s threshold for awkward terror (mine included). That’s why these made my day:
.
they’re kind of like those
shoutouts from my familiar.
totes! right back at ya.

we don’t need no water.


7th St & 1st Ave. One of Mine
.
“In Texas, we have something we call ‘the Cortez moment,’ which refers to when the great Spanish explorer and conquistador of Mexico came and set up camp and then burned his boats.  The phrase ‘burn the boats’ means there’s nothing but forward, onward, no turning back or running home scared . . . When you move here, if you’re any good at all, you burn the boats.”

– Dan Rather (arrived 1956), My First New York

@myliquidhandsoap: start packing, kid.


Mason Jar Soap Dispenser. Midwest Finds
.
I’m going fucking nuts on how incredibly gorgeous my new liquid hand soap smells.  One sniff and it’s 9am on a sunny skies saturday/sunday with nothing on the old to-do but a bike, a book, and a basket of muffins.  Seriously.  My best friend Joanna was visiting last week from Philly and I think I shoved my freshly washed hands in her face for smell ’em times far more than even a best friend should allow.  But, being the super materialistic and hypercritical Taurus that I am, the complete unawesomeness and total snoozetasticity of the plastic pump jar in which Dial packages this blessed bath product has been giving me a bad case of the frowns. So that’s why I scoured the internet this morning and ended up buying a Mason Jar Soap Dispenser.
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Scour.
Scour.
Score!

good call.


Sweet Prints. ciaShop
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“Lots of things happened in 1983. McEnroe and Navratilova were at the height of their dominance at Wimbledon, Ghandi won at the Oscars, William Golding won the Nobel Prize for Literature, the arrival of compact discs sent vinyl record sales into a steep decline and more than 125 million viewers tuned in to the last episode of M*A*S*H. All of this however was overshadowed by the arrival in Covent Garden of a small but perfectly formed illustration agency called CIA. We launched, rather spontaneously, with around twenty established artists, resolved in what they were doing and promoting a loose, expressive approach to image making.”

– Central Illustration Agency, A Potted History

make fonts, not war.


Typography by Richard Perez. Skinny Ships
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Yesterday, the WordPress theme dudes did some “minor” tweaking to the CSS of Vigilance by The Theme Foundry, a free theme that precisely a bajillion WordPress bloggers use (including myself).  Unfortunately, one of the tweaks included adding a 1px grey border to all our photos which, for those of us who blog like we’re an overzealous nerdaurus and post photos based on the assumption that our blog is 600px wide, janked the crap out of the one blessed thing that keeps us from just ending it all after fielding one too many so what do you really want to do’s from losers and strangers after copping to our less than stellar day jobs.  While I felt pretty bad for Lance, a theme dude who got caught in Bitchfest 3000 that instantly erupted in the forums following the changes, I also wanted to sucker punch someone (anyone!) for making me lose my blog boner for over 2 hours.
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But by the late afternoon (ie after Lance and his team had enough of our blogging gang bang), they kindly removed the border and my very public love affair with the internet was back on. Winz for everyone!

you, me, & robin williams.


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Together. Jennifer Nies
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Lost Boys: ..Bangarang, Peter!
Rufio: ..You . . . you man! Stupid, stupid man!
Peter Banning: ..Rufio, if I’m a maggot burger why don’t you eat me?! You two-toned zebra-headed, slime-coated, pimple-farming paramecium brain, munchin’ on your OWN mucus, suffering from Peter Pan envy!
Lost Boys: ..[chanting] .Banning, Banning, Banning is .B A N G A R A N G .!

– Hook, 1991