There is something wrong, and there is something right

my new fave song:

the bird and the bee - fucking boyfriend

meet me in the hotel for the key party

tuesday night was another magical night in new york. gorgeous weather, running into friends on the street, meeting at the gershwin hotel for a performance of the key party, pix in the photobooth first (are photobooths following me? or am i just noticing them more?), workhorse and the silver fox arrive via vespa, andy warhol in the lobby, sitting in the front row, giggling, passing the flask of maker's down the line, aquanet and a toy airplane on the stage, horn section and washtub bass, "his blacks don't match," tequila and red meat as post-show treats.

{the music? like if tom waits had a kid who dropped out of texas military school with liver damage and crabs. i told darren this, and he replied, "can i quote you?"}

easy. lucky. free.

i want to be outside so badly, it hurts inside. this week is a good week to "have the flu" and play hooky. springspringspring, my mind says. sunsunsun. don't work! PLAY!!!



bright eyes: easy/lucky/free

did it all get real, i guess it's real enough
they got refrigerators full of blood
another century spent pointing guns
at anything that moves
sometimes i worry that i've lost the plot
my twitching muscles tease my flippant thoughts
i never really dreamed of heaven much
until we put him in the ground
but it's all i'm doing now
listening for patterns in the sound
of an endless static sea
but once the satellite's deceased
it blows like garbage through the streets
of the night sky to infinity
but don't you weep (don't you weep for them)
there is nothing as lucky
don't you weep
there is nothing as lucky, as easy, or free

don't be a criminal in this police state
you better shop and eat and procreate
you got vacation days then you might escape
to a condo on the coast
i set my watch to the atomic clock
i hear the crowd count down 'til the bomb gets dropped
i always figured that there'd be time enough
i never let it get me down
but i can't help it now
looking for faces in the clouds
i got some friends i barely see
but we're all planning to meet
we'll lay in bags as dead as leaves
all together for eternity
but don't you weep
there is no one as lucky
honey, don't you weep
there is nothing as lucky, as easy, or free

crew cut

{random rant.}

j. crew is preppy, this we know.

they've got the nantucket/west palm beach/connecticut simple-but-chic look on lock.

if you need khakis, a rugby, or something embroidered with tiny lobsters, they deliver. and i've always felt despite their "hey, isn't it great to be wealthy and go BOATING" photo shoots, they do try to pretend to be all-inclusive, occasionally having older models and black models. the guys are always cute, in a rugged, i'm-sort-of-involved-in-the-restoration-of-my-country-house way. this new catalog even features the delectable kelly rippy , le sigh.

and sometimes i like preppy. sometimes preppy can be functional, work-appropriate or cool when worn with rock/hip hop twists. so i like j. crew.

but there's one thing i have always noticed about j. crew, and it's becoming more and more obvious: they really and truly design their clothes for flat chested women. they don't want chicks whose cups runneth over wearing their stuff!

i first noticed it years ago with their swimwear. they never used to have any suits with shelf bras. it was a situation i monitored carefully. now they've added one or two, but they still love to make teeny tiny triangle tops, and dresses with empire waists but teeny tiny bodices with teeny tiny cups. and to really drive this point home, in the new catalog that just arrived in my lower east side hovel, they had an asian model, so freakin' flat chested it was like whoa.

i guess big racks are not allowed in the country club.

you wouldn't understand.

while watching jonathan rhys meyers holler "i am the king of england!" in a promo for the the tudors last night, i felt some kind of chemical, physical reaction inside of me. it's so hard to describe, mostly because the proper words or idiomatic expressions do not exist in our language. or possibly they do and i just don't know what they are.

when a guy gets aroused he can say, "i got a boner." or "i got wood" or "i got a chubby." what is the female equivalent of "it made my girl parts tingle"? i am open to suggestions. really. please give me suggestions!

in the past i've been known to say he "made my ovaries move."

someone suggested saying "he got my spot hot."

it's not bad, it certainly rhymes. but it's lacking a certain gross baseness and slangy crudeness that you get from "boner."

i'm not the only girl who feels this way... so let's do something about it. suggestions, please!!!


track of the day: sweaty wet dirty damp (by gameboy/gamegirl)

adventures in wanderland.

adventures in bars and cabs and atms and brooklyn.
adventures in photo booths and in bars under the BQE.


















adventures in times square, where i picked up my new hello kitty bike.






omg look! panic! at the disco! in the window at mtv studios. *sigh* jon, ryan, brendon and spencer. i love those boys. watch one of their videos here. think they're kinda gay? maybe they are. gaze upon their cuteness here, here or here.

meanwhile, i biked from times square to my neighborhood... and the lower east side welcomed my new bike.





have i mentioned how excited i am that it is spring???

G is for Gay. And GENIUS.

it's raining 300 men!

all about the hamiltons, baby.

it's been a while since i did anyting SHOPPING related, maybe because i am broke, haha.

but srsly folks. it's hard to feel fresh for spring when you're wearing the same old shitty winter clothes.

seen some delicious stuff on the interwebs lately, please allow me to share:




shoplifter bag from a plus r store.



junkie fit leopard jeans from lip service... i'm always trying to break up my cardigan + jeans uniform, this might be a good way to start. they're kind of van halen/lita ford/ridick, but i feel like with sneakers and a slinky black top, you're ready for fun. party in my pants!




80s splatter glasses from fred flare, i totally had something like this in 6th grade. perfect for your next nü rave event.



silver mini dress by steve madden. they make dresses, who knew? wear over jeans now, then with silver flat sandals when it gets warm for that "i have a better party to go to later" look.



purple striped hoodie with zip-off hood, by fallen skateboard co. - also cute in blue/black and black/white....



slinky black dress, for work or play.... by bread and butter (at girlshop).



bird skull necklace by arms and armory (available at caravan.) silver and freaky psuedo goth, soooooo up my alley.



just as an aside:

wouldn't the world be interesting if more boys dressed like this? (via facehunter.)



get inspired: click through hoy fashion.

spread the bread, pool the moola

YAWN.

dinner last night at barrio chino, one of my faves.

margaritas + huitlacoche quesadillas + postprandial cupcake @ sugar sweet sunshine = ♥

i've been listening to a lot of fucked up mashups and remixes lately, totally chaotic and intriguing, some of them make me shimmy in my seat on the A train.

here's one: starkey - touchofevilriddim

here's another: somebody told me i wear my sunglasses at night (team 9/the killers)



and here's book my good friend matt gave me:



one hen, two cocks, sigh.....

get sprung!

poogene and i celebrated the vernal equinox by going to the monthly "love" pool party at the hotel QT near times square.

nothing says "change of seasons" like swimwear and tarot card readings. the astrologer told me that a new love was coming with the warmer weather. hot stuff!

km joined us later, then it was back downtown for a stroll through chinatown and a mac attack - although we stopped at still life on orchard street where i met the resident pitt bulls, ghostface and pussy.













i almost always have to do my patented "photoshoot in the loo."






spring has sprung!

see me driving down the street- i'm bored with looking good.

track of the day: teddybears - punkrocker (featuring iggy pop)

love me, love my vietnamese baby.

date: march 16, 2007
from: girlhattan
to: you



dude, i know this is so shallow, ok? but i really wanted to name my unborn (unconceived) child pax. it's totally in my top ten list of unconceived baby names, along with raven and stewart and zia. fucking angelina jolie just waltzes into the orphanage, picks the cutest kid there, and names him the name that i picked out. she's such a bitch. i love her. vietnamese babies are the new black. and now she has cemented my fate to fall in love with this kid in 20 years, because i know he's going to be a hot, smart and well-traveled twentysomething vietnamese guy named pax, probably tattooed, guitar-playing and a scholar of french poetry, and i will be a horny older lady thinking unpure thoughts about him, of this i am sure.

i know what you're thinking. i'm just jealous. well i am! i've never been so jealous in my life. i didn't even know i wanted a vietnamese baby until just now. i also want to be lithe, leggy and lush-lipped. and have sex with brad pitt.

if you have a problem with that you can kiss my vietnamese baby,

girlhattan

take off your shirt and stab someone.

so hrh and i went to see three hundo on wednesday at the imax. half naked spartans in crimson capes and little else on a two story screen? sexcellenté!



gerard butler's body is recockulous. there's a totally gratuitous scene where he's naked and gazing at a frighteningly enormous full moon and it is the full moon, if you know what i mean. the movie is action packed, dramatic and bloody fun, even if a couple of scenes are like, dude, i saw this standing-in-the-field-of-wheat-thing like seven years ago.



this movie may not be politcally correct, culturally sensitive or historically accurate, but it was tense, entertaining and beautifully rendered, often looking like a painting.




and so we proceed to the movie review haiku:


with muscles bulging
the king shouts, this is sparta!
i say, this is hot.