Sunday, June 27, 2010


My new favorite color.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


Why have I yet to discuss the infamous RP? It dawned on me when I passed the theatre by my apartment today, ECLIPSE JUNE 30TH!!@#$OMFG! Sarcasm. Especially knowing the third addition could have been done without. Let's jump to K. Stew being preggers in saga novel numero 4. Shame on me, I still believe it's impossible for her to out do herself in the awkward department. I may have to own the movie if proven wrong. But who am I kidding, it will be in my possession either way by my next milestone (oh christ i'm approaching mid-twenties) birthday. Any RP themed trinket/gift/craft is an acceptable and allowed automatic go-to. Wolf Taylor, you are still an adolescent. How did you acquire a 24pack? And sadly, I'm not talking a case of beer. That poor child was probably forced to be an anti-socialist by pumping iron in his room at 11 years of age, when he desired to play hopscotch or Barbie Magic Hairstyler (only trying to be brutally honest). I feel bad for his troubled future.

Your accent is delicious.
Your smile is coyly mysterious.
Your hair is a market for gel products.
Your masculine, chiseled jaw is quite devine.

So easily draped in an Urban v-neck or pinned up in a suit.

Team Edward.

Friday, June 25, 2010


After approximately 3.5 hours of surfing the web, I was able to find a non-methed photo of Madame Winehouse. But that's just looking at the glass half full. For amusement, let's allow her headlines to be a comic relief to our Friday night:

Amy Winehouse's Father Jagger Warning
Winehouse Quits Booze For New Boyfriend
Amy Winehouse's Sober Promise
Winehouse Back In Hospital
Winehouse Released From Hospital
Winehouse in Hospital Again
Amy Winehouse Plans Cuban Holiday
Amy Winehouse Wants Driving Lessons
Amy Winehouse Needs To Be Clean Bride
Amy Winehouse Says Bye To Cats

The definition of a hot mess. When a sole individual can trump that of America, let her have the trophy. You win, Amy. You are a messy beast who uses rehab as your playground. Your cheesy tattoos and cherry red push-up can't get you out of this one.

I said, "No, no, no."

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


There's a dramatic difference between being a living fashion icon and just wearing fashionable apparel. Icons are respected. They make a huge impact on the entire retail industry by changing the way people shop. Thanks to their uniquely original sense of personal style, we all lust in greed to mock their every move. I'm sure anyone would agree that people who just simply frolic after Dolce & Gabbana's ridiculous high fashion Fall 2010 collection can't be awarded such media "hype" as if they were Lady GaGa.

Quick question: Why does everyone think Sarah Jessica Parker is the new Madonna? Just because she was casted in fancy television series that hit the theaters, doesn't mean she is actually living the life of Carrie Bradshaw. Breakdown: someone very creative thought to put couture into the role of all four women, the stylist took on responsibility to engage in pieces from the obnoxious runway collections, the producer made all the sexual glamor come together, and SJP was just lucky to get caught up in the mix. I shake my head in utter disgust that she all of a sudden believes her alter ego is who she really is. You aren't a designer, your portrait shouldn't be a wall mural in the center of Halston Heritage's showroom, and you have a face that is painful to look at without the help of Photoshop and extremely professional makeup artists (refer to airbrushed picture above).

I envy that Carrie alter ego for one sole reason: she received a black diamond engagement ring in Sex and the City 2. I feel bad for my future fiance, he has no other choice but to bank on that piece of jewelry to get a yes out of me. Black's my favorite color, so sue me. "Retailing at $10,000 the Itay Malkin ring is available for sale through private sale only." No big.

SJP- you are a gypsy fool. I'd personally shop at Charlotte Russe if I knew it would somehow destroy a fraction of your world. Believe me, it takes a lot to even mention such a throw away clothing store. By that I mean, you literally should dispose of the garbage since it not only faults your life in a prohibiting manner, but shambles your skin into rashes if draped upon.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

I Liked It

To set the record straight, I am a huge Zooey Deschanel fan. Not only is she spectacular in 500 Days of Summer, but she should be Urban Outfitter's poster child. Her wit on and off camera is real, refreshing, and confusing to the naive. Just like Gabe, she's pushing thirty along with her never dying good girl persona- a desired characteristic that will cause her to get carded for her cosmos until she's a solid fifty. This interesting creature should not be compared to any other pop sensation. Try googling "Zooey Descahnel & Katy Perry." If you are just now realizing that our media is convinced these two were separated at birth, you should probably crawl out from under your cemented and sealed granite rock, and of course, let me delightfully shake up your world.

Katy, you can continue to compete with my Betsey Johnson wardrobe even though you will never win, but you absolutely have to accept that you will never be on Zooey's level of eliteness. A lot of artists sing about their personal experiences (duh) but I'm hoping that KP isn't.

Thinking of you.
Ur so gay.
Hot n cold.
I kissed a girl.
I'm still breathing.

Um, what the hell is going on? Stop dressing like a pinup girl and please figure out your life. Too many young adolescents are draping on your ideas of sass and will some how get tangled up in your presumed sexual confusion. For the sake of our future ten year old girls who are already cellular addicts and lipstick wearing fools, remember this- even though it wasn't your intention, you're boyfriend will still mind it.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Glorified Moment

Of none other than the band, Cobra Starship's Gabe Saporta. Which I'm sure most of the female population has forgotten about now that he is old news and pushing thirty. Let's just reflect on why he is, in fact, the perfect guy.

He cleans up more than well.
Fact: 6'4" (tall, dark and handsome) can't go wrong.

He's the funny guy.
I wish every guy would wake up in the morning
and act like G. Saporta.

He hangs with a cool crew.
Alloy Magazine once asked a pretty self-explainatory question.
"Who looks better in skinny jeans. Girls or Guys?"
Gabe nonchalantly replied "Guys."

His style keeps you guessing.
Plaids, Tees, Hoodies, Dress Shirts, Suits.
Spontaneity keeps any girl interested.
He cares about his looks, so no need to be worried.

He has the perfect smile.
“I’m glad we got to play last year and I’m glad we’re playing it again this year. For me, Bamboozle will always have a special place in my heart. It’s very nostalgic for me.”
Bamboozle is in New Jersey. I was there. and I was smiling.

People like Gabe shouldn't exist because he's such a rarity. It's wishful thinking to tell yourself you'll find someone a fraction of perfection, so sadly we have all learned to deal with the flaws and mishaps. However, thanks to this living boy/man/god, I now expect nothing less. Thank you for unintentionally setting the bar for women- but let's be honest, we shouldn't settle for anything less.

:cobra starship hand signal:

Adios Midwest

Hello Union Square.

As Chris Carrabba from Dashboard Confessional would say:
"So long sweet summer
I stumbled upon you and gratefully basked in your rays
So long sweet slumber
I fell into you, now you're gracefully falling away"

Needless to say, a little depressing. That is, if you look at it in a pessimistic way. And I'm not meaning the picture above. Quite honestly, those lyrics intrigue me: opportunities lay ahead of those who are looking. I don't think you can just fall into a miracle. You are the sole creator for your actions and the thoughts behind your decisions. I leave for NYC (haters call it New York Shitty, because they don't know the half of it) tomorrow. Signing a year lease on an obnoxiously small, yet stylish 1 bedroom that eats up most of my salary? I've just been slapped with what I'm assuming is the big apple. It beats living in a box outside Park Ave. But then again, it's Park Ave! Oh decisions; I'm actually glad mine led me here. I'm not nervous to live alone in the madhouse area of downtown Manhattan nor for my first day of work in a corporate office. I guess the correct word for how i feel is: restless. It beats feeling overwhelmed or apprehensive. I simply just can't get a grip on sleep. For once, it's not because I'm pondering why people find Kristen Stewart attractive or why Giada has a bigger mouth than all of the Food Network stars' combined. I just want to speed up time: such a realist I am. But in all seriousness, I'm ready for adulthood and everything that comes along with it.

Because I have a huge support system on here (Mama Chiero) I need to make a special shout out to you: Thank you so much for everything. These past 2-3 weeks have been hell. Not sure if we wanted to kill or love each other half of the time. But we did it. After too many expensive flights to the city to find a job and apartment, wiping Costco entirely clean, and practically owning all of Orland Square, I'm surprised no one has developed an ulcer out of complete shock or complication. Packing up the truck had to be the cherry on top: us being unsure of it fitting everything or dad making a clothing rack out of twine. He really could do some good in the wild. Thank you, love you. I will miss you tons.