Underwear Goes Inside the Pants.

As the summer came to an end...so did, you know, radiant tanned skin, daily removal of hair, and day drinking. I'm all like yeah! its time for school again. "I get to go back to my life of running away from people on the LIRR, going into H&M three times a day, and straight up just chillin'." This September...unfortunately that didn't go down. For a majority of the normal folk, being a recent college graduate is the time of your life when mommy and daddy are not going to continuously throw cash in your unemployed face so you can go out to dinner with your girlfriends. No it's just not. Shit happens. However, unless you're a bank and enjoy lunching everyday at prissy lunch places with fake people... you must land yourself a real job with a desk and stare at manilla folders and your germy phone all day. Well, I hate desks, I hate anything Staples related, and above all I hate women who wear work pants. I especially hate when those women feel the need to wear white geriatric sneakers with their heinous work wants during their commute. It's just gross.
Anyways, this post is not going to be about my cry to rewind back to yesteryear, it's concerning some babble that I myself find to be wicked awesome. European people.

One fine evening in Chinatown while waiting for my friends to finish dancing with each other at a nightclub, I caught something with my eye...a European male. Well, he was straight, ravishingly handsome, holding a cigarette and dressed all hunky-dory. Obviously I was like HELLO, and I pounced on him like a vulture and bombarded him with questions. Meet Pierre. I started humiliating myself, once again, with my photography. I don't know why I regularly photograph well dressed strangers, but I just do. Turn's out this dapper and adventurous French individual was wearing shoes by Dries van Noten. HOT much? I think yes.

Un

Deux 

Trois- Call me maybe?

Va va voom.

Not my number one choice of male footwear, but none the less still noteworthy and pleasing. Let me put this in all you well groomed males cerebral cortex's...SHOES are the most focal part of your daily getup. Hey, you can wear a polyester - nylon blend ensemble,  just shell out your dollars on those overpriced shoes. Stop being practical and just do it...it's more economical than your children's college funds, trust me. Oh, one more thing before I let you go...Kenneth Cole "Reaction" does not count as nice. My reaction will be throw up. 'Nuff said.

Sleep with one eye open.

"I WANT TO PERSONALLY COME TO YOUR HOUSE, THROW PIPING HOT ROCKS AT YOUR FACE, POUR ICE COLD WATER ON YOU, TAKE ALL YOUR CLEAN LAUNDRY AND BURN IT, BLAST YOUR AC AND DEMOLISH ALL YOUR BLANKETS, PUT LAXATIVES IN YOUR FOOD, AND JOYFULLY TORCH YOUR POWER LINES." These are just some of my hopes and aspirations that come to my mind, or whats left of it at least, when I visualize ever coming in contact with the management of LIPA. I take great pleasure in introducing you all to Michael D. Hervey, CEO and terrorist of LIPA.

You look like vermin. 

Now, this lame brained douche lord above, rolling around in dollar bills while we have all reached new levels of insanity, is the equivalence of crap. Lie after lie, he tells his shitty PR people to post lame brained Facebook statuses to shut us all up. SHOVE IT. You're all full of shit, lazy and fat. In the beginning of this catastrophe known as Sandy, the folk of Long Island and I were like "OK yea it will take a few days, its OK, people in other places got it worse than us, and at least were alive BLAH BLAH BLAH". NO. Now, on day 12, you seriously need to be arrested Mr. Hervey. I highly suggest resigning, and moving to a far far away place and never return. As a matter of fact, you should disappear. 

If you ever come in contact with this post,  Mr. Hervey, I would really be delighted if you take time to get a feel for the past of 12 days. 

 

I've been homeless, hypothermic, frigid and insane. 

I give you one more day. Do something, Mr. Hervey. 

P.S: If you ever need to use the bathroom in Great Neck, come to my home, I have an array of frigid toilet seat cover for you to enjoy.

Hey it's ok...

...to flat out say "no" when the movie theatre ticket person asks you to donate $2 to some public school fund.

...to occasionally consume an industrial sized bowl of sugary cereal and milk at four AM.

...to lie to your friends that you don't have a car so they come pick you up.

...to stalk someones tagged pictures up until you've, by some means, allowed yourself to reach their pictures from when they were 12 and half years old. Hey it's OK, we all do it.

...mix your alcohols...............on purpose.

...that your biggest pet peeve is when people, mostly your friends, post stupid shit on Instagram for sole purpose of geo tagging the "cool" place they are at. Spare us. 

...to call in sick on a rainy day because you just feel like staying at home to snuggle up on your couch with food and watch bad TV. It's really OK.

...to blame your recently tight jeans on the drying machine. I mean...it was the wrong setting.

...to have that "OMG lets do lunch one day!" convo with some fake bitch and know that it will never ever happen.

...to have the urge to whack overly excited sales associates in the face with a baseball bat.

...to subscribe to Glamour magazine only for the "Hey! it's OK page"...

Gym Ettiquette

Ways to avoid the "stop and chat" with bothersome people at the gym.

If you are a person who attends a gym that your friends and friend-ish people are members of, and if you're one who is serious about getting your sweat on...you need to obtain a skill. That skill my friends, is how to avoid the "stop and chat". It's not as easy as it may sound to you. It takes vigor. It takes heroism, oh and above all it takes that "back off bitch" facial expression.

Hey, there's nothing wrong with socializing, but stop and chats can unfortunately turn into stay and chats. End result: you've left the gym feeling fatter than when you came. And no, who would want to waste their way overpriced membership fees and Lululemon getup on just some chit chat. I certainly would not. I introduce to you the steps to make your way to a machine, talking-free:

1. As previously mentioned, you've got to have that "back off bitch" face hidden in the back of you're brain, and know exactly when and how to whip it out. Done. Kristen Stewart style.

2. Race to a machine as if you forgot your diamond ring in the cup holder and nothing in the world can stop you. Remeber now, head down always and don't even consider glancing over at any human.  

3. If you have the composure to be semi-polite, wear your earphones and walk by and do the smile and wave. That's it. No more than that. If you walk to slow, you're not going to make it to the finish line. 

4. The evil of all evils. You're running on the treadmill and someone comes smack on the treadmill right next yours to chirp away about nonsense. Take all three steps and SHUT IT DOWN.  

5. Or, you can just wear a hat. 

Practice makes perfect, mi amigos. If one step is not successful, then try another one and so on..and if none work, well then you're too nice. REINFORCE THAT BITCH IN YOU.

Poo-head

Here's Karl Lagerfeld on the cover I-d magazine. An here's what Karl Lagerfeld should look like after he opened that mouth of his. But you know, people suck and they continute to suck. Why? I do not know why. But what I do want to know is...why you trippin dude?

Hey Karl, you know...yea your awesome and stuff...with your cool hair and all your cool fashion capabilities. Big whoop. But I seriously hope that that eye patch on your eye is because someone bitch slapped you in the face for uttering the word "fat" regarding Adele. Shut your trap. Forget the rain...well have Adele set fire to you instead.

Bitch PLEASE

Many thanks to the Japanese people and their weird ass spiritual health shit. They are now suckering rich brain dead soccer moms into reflexology for weight loss. HOW? one may ask. Acupuncture, soy nonsense, or mysterious liquids? Nah, with a toe ring, A TOE RING. Yes my friends, they want people to believe that this Japanese "art" of reflexology will make you dispose of your excess body lard. So here's what it is: you are supposed to wear rings on your toes that "are made of high-quality rubber and come fully loaded with strategically placed magnets that target specific pressure points that are said to trigger weight loss".

What kind of lame brained human being would actually pay actual money for this...I do not know. However, I must mention that in my loony tune days I fell for something like this. I had placed little metal balls behind my ears and expected to shed pounds. Well that's in the past and we're going to leave it at that. Moving on.

Everyone needs to stop making excuses for their battle with weight loss. GET OFF YOUR LAZY ASS, GET YOURSELF ON A TREADMILL, AND STOP EATING CRAP.

Yo Japan, stick to sushi and electronics. No need for your pea-brained weight loss garbage.

Shoe of Mass Destruction

We have shoes...then we have these. 

Prerequisites of Being a Dashing Man: Part Three

This post is not going be about Persol sunglasses or Tod's loafers, not this time, my sincere apologies. Clearly you must know that those are not the only prerequisites that are required for a dashing man, I mean...all dashing men attend black tie events too. But for males there is only so much one could wear to be more ravishingly eye catching than the other. Moving on. While at a wedding this week, I did what I do best, I stared at males. I also stared at dashing male wannabes and did my usual evaluations. As the evening progressed...sadly I found myself having my own personal review session of what the guys were wearing. I know that sounds disgustingly sad and pretentious, don't hate me. Anyways, I noticed that a few males had put an extra effort to not look exactly the same as every other douche lord in the room. So then, I was like YO. "Hmmm...how's about the dude with the weird metal thing on his tie, the dude with velvet shoes, and the dude with the bad ass chain on his suit all make an appreance on my blog?" I carried on with this thought and proceeded to humiliate myself with my photography skills, once again, to slap you all in the face with an array of Victorian wedding male fashion FUN.

#1. The tie bar. Really meant to just keep your tie from flopping around...or it can be used to ad some pizazz to an uneventful black tie or some blah wedding getup. Hey, not every dude could pull this off...you've go to own that Urban Outfitters-cardigan-Seth Cohen swagger and listen to Death Cab. Cute-ish.

            

#2. BAM. Standing out like a sore thumb? I think yes.The classy name for that accessory chillin' there, there, THERE...take a close look, yes that's a called a "time peice", but we're just gonna call it a good old chain. Just add a top hat and a curly mustache to this ensemble, then we can call you Leopold and find you a Kate. None the less, kudos to you my friend. You rocked that three piece suit......and that douchey pocket square. You brave soul.

 

#3. Yes my friends, you are staring at velvet slippers. However, I like to call them gentelman loafers. I think this guy and the chain dude above went shopping together with Mozart, don't you? Any-who, those are not the traditional shoes one would see a guy wearing. That being said...these shoes are pretty dope, a little rough around the edges, but yet still a brave ass choice of wedding footwear. WORK IT MAN!

You see, you can all learn a lesson from these fine young noblemen. Us females, were just so tired of looking at the same old historical suits and shoes. We're bored to tears. 

Spice it up, nuff said.

Stay tuned for part four!

Presidental Week

In honor of our presidents...let us take a few minutes out of our self absorbed day and show some appreciation for our sexy presidents, or sexy president related people.

Thomas Jefferson, quite the Baldwin for his day. Sporting that whole Karl Lagerfeld swag.


Yeah, yeah, yes. We all know this man whore, aka JFK, and we all know he was hot. But you know who was hotter?

His son, his offspring, his fetus. JFK JR.

Aright. Enough about presidents, lets talk about this situation above. Now ain't he FOXY and luscious and bootylicious.

My apologies Barack Obama, you did not make the cut, nor will you ever. 

Rolling Stones or Rolling in the Deep?

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN THE RIGHTFUL OWNER, ME. RUSTY AND CHIPPED ALLOVER. NEED IT BACK NOW.

LOVE,

ME.

A PERSON WITH A NAKED RIGHT INDEX FINGER. 

Spike-session.

After attending an "up and coming" designers whatever type of fashion show this week, I wasn't flabbergasted and my breathe was not taken way. This designer should not be up and they should most definitely not be coming. And, this was mainly because the clothes were fugly, the models were fulgy, the crowd was eh, and the collection reminded me of Conway. But that's besides the point. I'm here to tell you that spikes make my world go round. Spikes on men's shoes, however, make my world go rounder.

So, when I saw these on the most well dressed male there, I was like YO.

Your fellow chill piller here posing with a strangers shoes, completely habitual. Now my world is lookin' super round. This was my contribution to Fashion Week, oh and stealing some awesome bra tape from the gift bag. 

Neckwear At Its Finest

Meet Zarig.

She has several obsessions: fur coats, cheese, and most importantly having a scarf on her neck. Without fail, she will always be sporting a scarf. At all times. Morning, afternoon, and night. Rain or shine. Hot or cold. Silk or wool. Yada yada yada. Now my fellow chill pillers, take a look at how this chick exhibits her array of neck gear.

Yellow by day...

Yellow by night.

Scarfing down while wearing a scarf.

Always happy, always scarfing it.

She looks a bit down in the dumps at the Trevi Fountain of love...tie the scarf - tie the knot woman!

Raping the streets of Paris with dem scarves.

Dangling from trees.

This is how gracefully Zarig fastens her assortment of silk neck getup.

This is it, a drawer dedicated just for her neck paraphernalia.

Almost Great News!

According to the rumor mill...

 Adam Levine and his alleged prostitute of a girlfriend, Victoria's Secret model "Anne Vyalitsyna", have reportedly broken up!

 Well, if this may or may not be the truth...we can still hope, believe, anticipate and for love of God have AMBITION!...right?

Chim Chim Che-ree

Eff you, Celine.

Middle School.

Words that come to mind when I think of Middle School:

AWKWARD, ABERCROMBIE AND ACNE CREAM.

Most people I know, including myself, were not fond of this three year period of being a human being. You become weird, your friends become weirder, your friends start to smell weird and look unusual. If you looked considerably pleasant or appealing at this age, then consider yourself a blessed child of God. Middle school was a battlefield, or a fashion battlefield. Lets just say if you were a doormat with frizzy hair and a corpulent body, well then your life pretty much sucked. But if you were a Middle School betch or betch in the making, you were pretty comparable to warriors or barbarians, to say the least. In order to be considered "in with the crowd" you had own certain wardrobe essentials to make it through the halls of that combat zone we remember as "Middle School".

Nonnegiotable wardrobe must haves:
1. Abercrombie & Fitch. This store offered an array of ripped clothes at a ripped off price. But that didn't matter,  we would bring down our parents lives if they didnt take us there. A typical scene that would take place at that store: you want to buy a lime green hoodie with fringes and rips at whopping price of $75. Your mom starts barking at you as to why one would buy such an item and she starts kvetching about the loud music and that over sprayed perfume. Kicking and screaming. You've won. Because we were little prepubescent brutal savages.
2. Puma sneakers.
3. Juicy sweatsuits. Most jacked up priced velour pajamas...and for what?
All for that legendary "J". End reuslt: you have holes in your sweatpants where one should never ever see holes. 

Lesson learned: home school your children for Middle School.

Shoe Sob Story: The Continuation

OH the good old days when I used to be the same shoe size as this little pocket sized human. Shoes used fit me...shoes used to gracefully wrap around my feet and actually allow me to detect a sense of comfort. Little did you know shoes were even able to be big for me and I have failed to remember what that feels like. Well my friends, that's all in the past and you know what happened? Shit happened. Size 11 happened, my toes feeling crushed happened, pea-brained shoe buyers happened and waiting to hear the shoes sales person tell you that your size is sold out happened. 

This little fashionista in the making should enjoy every minute of her miniature feet now, in case the evil of all evils happens. Growth. Or maybe she'll turn out to have ordinary sized feet like 99.9% of the female population. Who knows what's in store for her.  

Today, when a shoe fits me it's equivalent to finding a 100 dollar bill on the floor. Yea.

Pink Hearts or Regurgitation?

My sincere apologies for the delay...I was in Africa helping save the warthogs...and sadly I had no access to the internet. But now, the warthogs have been saved and I have returned to chill your pill. AND what a great way to kick off with Valentine's Day as today's topic!

You either love Valentine's Day or loathe its existence.

Reasons why one would be fond of this day:

- You and your significant other are cheesy people.

- You're an evil person and want to make your single lady friends jealous by shoving your boyfriends cheap roses and chocolate in their faces. 

- You secretly want to use that chocolate and throw it at the TV when you're mad at your boyfriend...Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde style. 

- You read self help books and you love life, you love love... blah blah blah.  

- This year you're not that bitter single chick and you get to pity all single ladies!

Reasons why ones gag reflex's may act up on this day:

- You're walking in Duane Reade and get slapped in the face by the Valentine's Day seasonal isle. Then all of a sudden...Nausea-Heartburn-Indigestion-Upset Stomach- Diarrhea. The commercial starts playing in your head and all those shades of pink just remind you of Pepto Bismol. 

- Your reminded of High school. When that boy you wanted to make offspring with one day...gave roses to someone else. 

- You feel stabbed in the back by Beyoncé and that whacked out music video of hers. 

However way you look at the this day...a day of heartfelt romance and pink garbage or a day for Hallmark to feel on top of the world...uh I have nothing to end this sentence with. 

Avoid Hangovers - Stay Drunk

Some memorable moments/things of 2011:

1.Betcheslovethissite.com. If you think you are too smart to read this, then you're just stupid.
2. Bradley Cooper became hella hotter.
3. People in the last few months who have migrated from BBM to the iPhone have increased the volume of air that resides in their a-holes.
4. Instagram became quite the trend. People have found their inner selves in the art world. 
5. Dsquared2 is clearly on cocaine due to their high heeled ice skates. Great for your bunions.
7. Sure, I liked the song "Someone Like You" by Adele for about 3 and half days...but then America took this song way too far. I still hear this song incessantly, like on three radio stations at the same time and it gives me the urge throw hot rocks at myself.
6. Previous hipsters, new hipsters, and fake hipsters who think they are cool... have all come together to make hipster fashion more socially acceptable, yet big plaid checkered button downs are still ridiculously ugly.
7. The Celine bag continues to rape my salivation glands.
8. Recent commercials for Titanic in 3D? Cut the shit. Lion King in 3D was the equivalent of paying 13 precious bucks for plastic glasses. You can take those 13 bucks and buy yourself a a frozen yogurt from 16 Handles. 
9. Speaking of 16 Handles...no no nevermind. 
10. It was fun preparing/talking about Hurricane Irene, so the owner of Goya canned beans can sleep better at nights now. 

Ok people - prepare your shitty livers for Saturday night and be that drunken mess that you would normally judge and look down upon...hope y'all have a disorderly and rowdy entrance into 2012!

Love Is a Flower

John Lennon may you rest in peace!

Present Value vs. Future Value

Have you ever walked on Park Avenue during the lunch hour?

Have you ever stared at fancy financial analyst people?

Have you ever seen the males waiting on line at Chop't?

I have...and my ladies, it is the birth place of the forbidden fruit of NY.

Totally fascinated by these young a-hole looking males, I decided to have some fun.

One day, I had the idea to take some time out of my extremely important and busy day, mhmm, and I camped outside of the JP Morgan Chase building to people watch, which is one of the finest hobbies in all the land. I stopped this guy and creepily asked if i could photograph him. He agreed, and it did not faze him.

 A 20 something year old wearing a pocket square at 4 pm strutting down Park avenue=trust fund status obsessed douche lord with a nice apartment. None the less, he's super cut, super clean, and wearing Ferragamo shoes.

This senior citizen is probably what the above dude will look like in the future.

Well then, I decided to pipe down with my photography and stop humiliating myself.

THIS IS MY LIFE.

Shoe shopping 

Black friday

Amazing sales that i'm not worthy of enjoying.

Fit or Fat

It's that time of year again, when we use the holidays as an excuse to gorge ourselves on lardy food. Then we cry when we look considerably corpulent and horrid in our new tagged pictures.  So, when that time of day comes when your in that four hour zone when you want to lose weight and you're just bored from snacking on celery sticks and frozen grapes...you can try some of my favorite healthy snacks that will not make you look like a piece of fatty chunky lard. Mind you, that doesn't allow you to have four of each.

My personal favorite. Plop it in the micro and enjoy this 100 calorie muffin top.

Take these english muffins...spray some I Can't Believe it's Not Butter then sprinkle some cinnamon and Splenda and toast it. Magic is real my friends...YOU'VE GOT YOURSELF A CINNAMON BUN. $$$. 

TOFU NOODLES. They're pretty nasty, not gonna lie...but the whole bag is 40 calories and it looks like pasta.  So fool yourself, why not.

Put down that pumpkin spice latte, that you forgot to say "nonfat" when ordering and try this flavorful pack of chemical infested hot chocolate mix instead. 

FOOLED YOU! Sorry, its just so mouthwateringly good. 

     

                        Consider this ice cream instead. Your hate handles may turn in to less hated handles.

Snacks that I think are stupid:

1. Almonds, ya I said it. Four of them turns into 15 and then 15 turns in 47 and you think you've only had, say about 12 almonds. Little suckers. 

2. 100 calorie packs. Six Oreo flavored crackers? Its just a tease.

3. Luna bars. Folic acid shmolic acid. This shits a scam.