Wednesday, September 21, 2005

brunette ambition


brunette ambition

I might as well call it, Do you get the inside joke?

...Mischa Barton, star of college-cult US TV show The OC (rich kids gone wrong, pleasant to look at) is currently the most fashionable teenager in the world, specialising in “boho chic” otherwise known as “strato-spherically expensive jumble sale for toffs”.
“We live in a very superficial culture,” says the London-born Mischa who’s obsessed with Shakespeare, “and if I could’ve chosen when to live my prime years, this century wouldn’t be it. This era is driven by things that are so far from a human aspect. It’s all money. There’s much less freedom these days and we’re more conservative now than ever, more than we were in the Sixties, Seventies and Eighties and it’s just becoming more conservative. Things are marketing-driven towards the young generation because people think young people have so much influence and are worth so much money. My generation is very competitive, from high school. By the time you get to college you pretty much plan out your whole life, a lot sooner than you might have a couple of generations ago.”
And what might this most sensible of 19-year-olds, the most fashionable 19-year-old on Earth, currently be wearing? “A woven brown skirt, a brown tank-top and my beat-up vintage boots.”
     from the Sunday Herald


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Monday, September 19, 2005

hi im new

this is me

ive never ever had a blog before...not even a live journal

so be prepared to put up with alot of my bullshit

oh and i guess we should establish right now that although i do have a formal education and enough iq points to make you feel like bump on a log...i do not and will not use punctuation and/or capital letters correctly EVER(im so funny cause i just used them get it?) also i dont enjoy proper sentence structure or the smell of cheerios.



Image hosted by Photobucket.com

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Thursday, September 15, 2005

Insatiable Desires




Don't forget what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he always wanted...
He lived happily ever after.     Willy Wonka

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Saturday, September 10, 2005

Cherry Stems & The Jimmy Cooper Theorem


The Jimmy Cooper Theorem


Parents and teachers always tell you to follow your dreams - that anything is possible... that story changes real fast, though, when you start climbing on top of the garage with a pair of homemade unicorn wings or when you're "just not black enough for varisty, Steve."
The truth is, your possibilities kinda diminish every day and with every choice you make - it's like they say, "when god closes a door, he closes a window." Sometimes life is like a car wreck - time slows down and you can examine every fragment of every modicum of an experience in a hyperreal, tactile way - it's as though you can step outside of yourself to see the world from a very charlotte bronte perspective but you're paralyzed, unable to act or to change anything. Basically you're along for the ride.

I have no idea what my future has in store, but I can accept that there are certain things I'll never have... Which is cool, i guess, 'cos fuck it. So, no you can't always get what you want, but I actually have a pretty sweet fallback plan... let me know if i missed anything!

So I love this chick but... umm, yeah... no. She goes to law school and meets an adorable bohemian surfer lawyer jew who's actually not a fag, which is cool and they totally are like THE couple and get married and eventually have a socially awkward but lovable hipster kid with bird arms. Good for her. Heartbroken, I move onto the closest thing with flowing brunette hair, and even more flowing legs - the posh plutocrat best friend (I ain't sayin she's a gold digger! but she ain't messin' with no broke nigga!). I impress upon her my good social standing, drop some ice in her glass and after specifics we move next door to the golden couple and we're all domestic and that's totally fun because it involves yachts and ponies and cocaine and then we'd have a little mischa whom we both LOVE! Score! Get down girl, go'head get down!
Okay, so she'd totally discresh (get it?! It's an abbreviated verb form of indiscretion, like when soakingly-gay editors shorten naturally to natch! and then become so absorbed in themselves and their words that that start using the abbreviation conversationally, but their gay lisp catches every single time on the ch and it sounds like they either just got a tongue stud and are still learning how to speak with it or their salvia is so cum-rich that it's actually sticky enough to glue their tongue and mouth ceiling together... OMG! So gay! Whatevs though, right?!) with my/our bff's wirey, witty, walden-pond spaceland scion (and not our mini-mischa's alpha male haute jocque). Yeah, and she totally sexes the little boy next door and that's all that matters. So I do the self destructive thingie and she peaces out... A lot of drama before I crash pretty hardcore and while my bff/neighbour is consoling me in a moment of absolute helplessness, twenty years of mind-numbing homo-e lust culminates in a single kiss-on-the-lips which would is just as creepy and awkward twenty years from now as it would be tomorrow morning, but then I'd be satisfied, and just in time to rebuild my life and start canoodling with her cute as a button, young socialite partygirl sister, which also involves a boat (I've got a very nautical future). I disappear long enough for all of the unattractive, dead weight homely jawbreaker white chicks and similarly unattractive seedy chicanos to pass through everyone's lives but I DEFINITELY come back see my foxy lil girl go rive gauche with the some newish blonde girl who's punkrox4ever but with a soft side (not unlike a cute n casual cashmere/poly blend union jack scarf from Urban Outfitters - OMG! Sooo cute!). Still more canoodling with the younger sister, and then finally... FUCKING FINALLY we could get a goddamn magazine off the ground after almost two decades of chitchat! I would be too busy living the J Crew life to give a shit that my ex-chick's youthful indiscretion was being passed around town paris-style (though if it was streamed on the internet, I think we could work in a veronica mars crossover!) or that one of the boys that used to put his penis in my bff psuedo/never-chick returned for drama and horribly bad napa-valley stock footage... and praise the stars, I'd completely miss the boat (get it?!@ the boat, 'cos I'm really into boats in the future! Get it?!) on anything at all involving kim delany.
Some good stuff, some bad stuff, some weird stuff... some melancholy stuff.
My consolation-prize sotgiutl gf gets some candy job playing volleyball in japan or somewhere else I don't want to be, and my guilty pleasure, forgivably diabolical fallen princess decides that my once-ironic-but-not-really-anymore preppy wardrobe and overly-attentive listening presence are admissible annoyances, so we'd do the redux thing...
Oh yeah, and cynthia drinks a lot... but it's not like a problem or anything.

So, I don't know what happens after that but I could do a lot worse, right?! I mean, i could just have a couple of beach balls to snuggle with...
Go Trojans!


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Link

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Fuck! Bamboo... Whatever.


Fuck! Bamboo - Whatever.


last night something happened. I saw something and I don't know if I'll ever be the same. it was like a rainbow coloured unicorn, soaring above newport, sprinkling its platinum dust on all the missoni and madras below.

adam brody and kristin from laguna beach: the real OC. Together on a late night talk show, on the eve of season three. it was like the word of gsus, materialized as awkward interaction between two not-really-real people... it was like a john cage record at 120 decibels. a skinny, gawky jewey kid being showered with pure love from a hundred fifteen year old girls - most of which i would happily go to jail for - as he confidently explained that he only likes movies that he's in, while the plastic blonde princess explained that she's over laguna beach and decided to forget about television and auditioning so she can focus on pursuing her acting career. yeah - it didn't make much sense when she said it either. They both admitted that neither has ever really seen the other's show, which was surely a letdown to every member of the audience as well as us hopelessly romantic fans at home, who live, breath, and sleep these shows. They stopped short of admitting that they don't even watch their own shows, but i have little doubt in my mind that their mondays and thursdays (respectively) are spent in front of the tube.

my god she's beautiful.


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K-I-T! See you in september!

OMG! It's happening! I can't believe it's actually happening...
eight pm. it's my everything.

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