Platinum Fool

Halves

I stole an amazing dress yesterday from Value World c/o Wilson’s Leather circa 1989. It has a complex system of Smurf-blue leather straps across the neckline and a half-n-half bodice of the same material and color combined with SERIOUSLY, FUCKING BLACK SPANDEX. It needs to be shortened a hair because I have short legs.

Saw a show in Shelley’s garage last night:

• DRUG ABUSE (Charlie Draheim, Paul and Heath from Sick Llama, by way of Ypsilanti)

• LASERBEAMS OF BOREDOM (Craig from Amoeba Kids’ new band)

• BAD INDIANS (from Ypsilanti)

• BRIAN GLAZE AND THE DAYSHIFT (Brian Glaze, formerly in Gris Gris and The Brian Jonestown Massacre. On tour from Oakland, CA.)

Laserbeams of Boredom lived up to their name, possibly the best act, which isn’t saying much. The most interesting aspect for me was that Craig and his girlfriend were still together, its been like, years. Her haircut was kicky and short, I liked it a lot. He seems boring and reminds me of a scraggley white dandilion puff half blown away by circumstance, half poorly developed.

Bad Indians lived up to half their name, I think. Is there nothing better to do in Ypsilanti than start a band or vie for property on Olive St.?

Brian Glaze and the Dayshift were boring, much like working one. I had a lackluster conversation with someone I don’t even like very much about how we weren’t listening to his band; I did however donate $2 to his cause.

Shelley played a mean mix-tape between acts though, very ecclectic and fun!

Although I gave a less than enthused review of the night’s acts, the night itself was pretty great. For starters it was Cinco de Mayo, and a holiday almost always equals a good time. I looked up a friend’s art online, got inspired and thrift shopped all day. At 5PM I took a brief siesta, then bought Mexican beer and an airplane of $10 Patrón with Andrew.

At some point during/after the show I was *just* drunk enough to ask all the right questions and get all the right answers… with a little back peddling. W-a-a-a-h. Suck.

• To guy I fuck: “Did you just drink a bottle of ‘Tussin?”
• GIF: “No, (which I think was a lie) but I do a lot.”

• To mutual friend of girl I used to be friends with: “Why is she ignoring me?”
• MFoGIUtbFW: “Beacuse she owes you $40, and she’s ignoring me too.”

• To kid that I’ve known for a long time: “So your’re gay, right?”
• KTIKFaLT: (It gets a little hazy here) “No, who told you that?” (I still think he’s gay as hell.) I admitted being a little gay in hopes of like, some GLBT all-out bro-out, no dice.

• To the guy that is drunker than me at noise shows: “Why haven’t we done it?”
• TGTiDTMaNS: “You’re an Aries, I’m a Libra.”

• To my favorite liquor store guy: “Sell me rum even though I’m wasted?”
• MFLSG: “YAY!”

My ex-boyfriend called me at 7:58AM this morning, he was riding a bus with his girlfriend. I hate buses, riding them makes me feel low-class. I think riding her makes him feel international. If I fucked an unfortunate-nosed Japanese person I would pretend to be Momus.

YE OLDE MEAN ZINE '06

YE OLDE MEAN ZINE

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A COLLECTION OF SOME GR8 ART.

Other sweet names for blogs

• There’s a method to my radness

• This is the way I cry

… I can’t think of any more right now.

This is a poster on my bedroom wall:

NY / NY

This was my first day/night in NY without Mark. We took slugs of rum out of a plush hamburger behind a dumpster before parting ways. I think getting him tipsy before he met up with his new girlfriend was my little Saint Thérèse de Lisieux fuck you to her.

I must have been weak and silly because my first move was buying a very expensive jacket on Bedford Ave. I wrinkled my nose at the price and got it for 50% off, and the day ended up chilly so it turned out to be a pretty good investment.

Afraid to get lost, I just kept walking down the same street, sweating, as it hadn’t yet gotten cold. McCarren Park had free live music which I ignored to listen to Judas Priest on my iPod. I wrote Sarah a postcard and drank more rum.

Still kind of lonely and needing a mailbox or post office I sought out the most New York looking person I could find, a dirty construction worker with that Long Island accent I’m so gay for.

At some point after mailing my postcard and buying some crap out of a cardboard box on the street, and right before doing something really vulgar in public, sitting by the river seemed like a good idea.

I saw this van on my way:

It says: “VOLUPTUOUS TODDLERS ARE NEVER GIVEN TO YOU, YOU HAVE TO TAKE THEM.” Which I thought was pretty hilarious.

Getting to the waterfront proved a bit more difficult and time consuming than I had anticipated, due to all the fucking condos being built. So I pulled another little St. Thérèse stunt and totally peed on the street in front of them.

When I finally reached the river there were loads of silent Hasids and loud Puerto Ricans, so I just stood close to the railing and admired the view for a very, very long time. By the time I decided to sit down, the temperature had dropped enough for me to wear my new jacket.

—It’s long, woolen and black with a large round collar and mid-length sleeves with button detail. There isn’t a front to speak of, just kind of like a skirt that buttons and it has back pockets, which in my opinion are the best feature.—

At this point I was looking pretty Hasidic myself, so I felt like less of a weirdo. I was also feeling a little buzzed; listening to Phil Collins’ No Jacket Required, and having all kinds of crazy fleeting thoughts about propositioning men for money; American Psycho the movie, not the book; propositiong dudes not for dollars, etc.

Lost in thought, I hadn’t noticed an attractive Hasidic guy had been sitting right next to me. And not frequently glancing at him was a challenge. At some point I definitely watched him remove his yarmulke and dust off his shoes with it. I kept thinking “OMGWTF!#^@%?@&*!^%!? isn’t that total blasphemy or something? Ah, whatevs he’s hot.”

I couldn’t resist any longer and struck up conversation with my four-eyed forelocked nano crush. I asked if yesterday had been a holiday, he looked at me like I was slightly retarded and said, “um, no, tonight is. It’s Passover.” I felt kind of lame, but I mean, I may have resembled a duck, walked like a duck and been in the same pond with ducks, but I’m not a jewduck. I asked which bridge was which, knowing perfectly well the difference and he offered to walk me. His peeps seemed annoyed that he was hanging with a goy-l covered in tattoos but he took it in stride. We talked about how peaceful the water was and how raising a family in Queens would be quieter and provide more nature (I based my opinion on what I’ve seen on T.V.) and other things I don’t remember. We shook hands for a long time and I watched him wend his way back to the river for far longer that he knew, because I was crossing the Williamsburg bridge at a pretty good clip to meet friends in the city.

Fun with Mac version of MS paint

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Pretty good, eh?  The resemblance is uncanny; I’m SO  glad I’m “NOT DA MAMA,” giving birth to monsters would hurt.