1.) I’m going to New Orleans the day after tomorrow!
2.) The Killers’s new CD is fucking awesome!
3.) Brandon Flowers, the lead singer, is super hot! And gay, right?!
4.) He’s not gay?!
5.) Wait. He’s a mormon and married?!
6.) He must be a closet case. He wore peacock feather shoulder pads on SNL!
7.) I’m still really bummed about Prop 8!
8.) I’m going to New Orleans the day after tomorrow!
I hope I get Mardi Gras beads and make out with Mormons too!
I grew my beard out for my pirate costume on Halloween. It’s gotten so much attention, particularly from gentlemen callers, that I am going to keep it for awhile. It’s scratchy and it feels weird when it’s soaking wet, but I’m going to play it out. Consider this The Great Beard Experiment of 2008.
Oh my god, a girl I work with just walked by and complimented my beard! Seriously. She wants my sack. I totally could’ve got her digits.
Here is my new Fall Face -
OH MY GOD! MY BEARD GREW INTO ANOTHER HEAD AND ATTACHED ITSELF ON MY SHOULDER!
Actually, that’s my friend Jonathan, who also has a beard, but my beard is bigger than his beard. He might have beard envy. I’m not sure. This beard business is a whole new thing for me. Viva la beard!
(You may have noticed that I was wearing a sticker that says “PREGNANT” in these photos. I found it on the street and wore it. I am in fact, NOT pregnant. Just in case you were concerned.)
My lovely, red-headed vixen, Johanna Parker married the hilarious and handsome Eric Appel this past weekend. They met when my and Johanna’s improv team, Ugly Stick, played Eric’s team, Shit-Storm, at Upright Citizen’s Brigade several years ago. They are a freaking awesome couple and I am super happy for both of them. Sadly, I almost didn’t make it to the wedding at all!
On my way to meet Cody and Betsy at Betsy’s Beamer in Chelsea, my taxi got a flat tire. I had to wander the streets of Brooklyn to get a new car service. Once out of the city, we ran into some very mean fur protesters who were blocking cars in the middle of the road. After sitting through about 40 minutes of furry traffic, we still had a three hour drive upstate ahead of us. We sped northward. We went so fast that we got a speeding ticket. Brilliant. Then, once we were sure we were on our way, we took a wrong turn, but didn’t know it until 30 minutes later – so we had to drive 30 minutes back. We fought a family of cannibalistic hillbillies (no joke), got directions from Bubba Gump, and went in circles a few times because “9 North” is apparently different from “9 N”. At least we got to enjoy the turning of the leaves.
We missed the actual ceremony. It kills me. I hate people who miss the ceremony. What pieces of stupid shit we were to miss it. I heard it was amazing and that they wrote their own vows. I love when people write their own vows, damnit! Of all the straight weddings going on in the world around me, this is one I really wanted to witness!!! I spit in my own eye. Johanna was a vision of beauty and so was her perfect dress!
Anyway, the rest of the evening was terrific. Such joy and harmony! Watching Eric and his mom dance the Mother/Son dance to Kermit the Frog’s “Rainbow Connection” actually made me cry. My mom and I used to sing that song too! The Father of the Bride’s speech always gets me too. Johanna’s dad is such a genuine guy. Great speech!
One of the best ideas I have ever seen at a wedding? An old timey photobooth! Guests take unlimited photos and they all get copies of them. After the wedding, the new married couple get a book of all the photos that were taken. It’s the perfect accent, especially at a wedding full of comedians!
A beautiful event all around. It made me super happy. What a difference from The Georgia Wedding I went to earlier this year. I didn’t even come close to being molested at this wedding! Bravo, Appels, bravo.
I went to a fancy birthday party tonight. It was held at The Campbell Apartment in Grand Central Station. The evite warned that they are very strict on the dress code – “The Campbell Apartment does NOT allow “sports apparel,” which they define as follows: no tennis shoes, t-shirts, baseball caps or torn jeans (sorry, fashion queens!). Gentleman must wear a shirt with a collar. Please adhere to their strict dress code or they will not let you in.”
So I wore a brand new, Venetian Red, collared, button down, long sleeved shirt by Geoffrey Beane. I complimented the shirt with a dazzling red, black and silver tie along with a black, pin-striped jacket. My bottom half was a sleek, black pant and brand new black loafers with a stylish white stitch on the hem of the shoe. Of course I was wearing my Gucci glasses. I also topped off the fanciness with a black on black, checkered Kangol hat. I looked fierce.
When I got to the smarmy guy at the top of the stairs, he looked me up and down and said, “You have to take off the baseball hat”. I assured him that it was, indeed, not a baseball hat. I immediately bitched, “This is not a baseball hat, this is a sixty dollar Kangol cap”. Ew. I had instantly become a parody of myself. I wanted to make fun of my own, gross, gayness. It was pretty disgusting.
I took off my hat and put it in my ten dollar H&M bag and placed them both in coat check. I proceeded to drink $15.00 martini’s all night while standing next to RuPaul.
The transition from Summer to Fall to Winter is over. It is now officially freezing here. Especially since my building doesn’t have any heat yet. I have layered so much recently that I am having an identity crisis. I am an onion. I am bean dip. I am an Oscar nominated performance by Meryl Streep.
Anyway, the search is on for the one seasonal item that always makes or breaks an outfit. The perfect scarf. It needs to be long. I would rather it be too long than not long enough. Another requirement is that it is somewhat knitty. Or yarny. Some sort of warm fluffy fabric, but not the kind that would shed and catch in my neck beard. I hate fishing pieces of lint out of my mouth. So basically not cheap cotton.
I want the perfect scarf to look like I bought it from Urban Outfitters, without actually buying it at Urban Outfitters. And none of that Old Navy fleece crap either. I’ll pass on anything with tassels as well. I mean, if that’s the only thing keeping it from being the perfect scarf, then I guess I’ll deal with tassels, but I would rather not. Tassels are hassels.
Color is important too. I have learned alot about color from Project Runway and I have a more experienced palette now. I want something complimentary yet retro looking. Fun but yet simple. Navy Blue and Turquoise with Bright Pumpkin accents perhaps. Definately no paisley. Or anything animal patterned. Ew. I can’t do anything that would be confused with a Harry Potter color either. I don’t want to accidentally be labeled a Slytherin or mistaken for being in the house of Gryffindor. I am clearly a Hufflepuff.
So keep an eye out for me will you?
“Harajuku girls you got the wicked style. I like the way that you are. I am your biggest fan.” – Gwen Stefani, ‘Harajuku Girls’
OK, so its the new word I am running into the ground. Its the new ‘Holler’. Which of course was used just like ‘Aloha’ in Hawaiian to me. ‘Harajuku’ is geat for greetings, farewells, awkward silences, disses, and compliments. For example:
Tourist: (Taking my picture without asking at Starbucks) Oh, thank you.
Me: What are you doing? Did you just take a picture of me without asking?
Tourist: (Smiles meekly)
Me: So smiling and waving a peace sign makes it OK?
Tourist: I erase. I sorry.
Me: You better be sorry, or I’ll get all harajuku on you.
Or try it this way…..
Me: That hat is so awesome!
Person with Cool Hat: Thanks I just got it.
Me: It’s so harajuku.
Even if it is not really the harajuku style from Tokyo, it doesn’t matter. People will eat it up and think you really know what you are talking about. It’s also really fun to replace ‘harajuku’ for every word in any song….for example:
Me: (To the tune of ‘You Lost That Loving Feeling) You lost that harajuku, woa that harajuku….
Also, a new word that I am trying to get into heavy rotation alongside ‘harajuku’ is actually one of my own creations. ‘Amasian’. You can use this word to describe anything that is of asian flare that really inspires or amazes you. For instance….
Me: This is the best sushi I ever had. Its so fresh. It’s amasian!
Or even this….
Me: The revival of Pacific Overatures was a little lackluster. It wasn’t so amasian.
I see myself in every small harajuku reference. Like Gwen Stefani says…..
“A fatal attraction to cuteness. Style is Style. Fashion is Fashion.”
And stupid words deserve to get played out…..Holler.
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