milk carton

I've gone missing lately. forgive me. 

Things that have happened in the past few weeks:

1. epic going away party. I forgot my id and had to sneak into a club. I'm 22. 

2. I moved out of my apt. I cried. The end. 

3. Weekend trip to NYC for orientation. Model as the Muse exhibit at The Met = legit. Walking right onto the set of Gossip Girl = more legit. Also, did you know you can build your own muppet at FAO Schwarz? 

4. Newport for beach house fun. We went to a bar. There was a baby there. Even more disturbing? The child knew all the words to lollipop. 

We still got carded. 

epic fail.

i need to get back on this. in due time.

in other news, 500 days of summer = well worth a movie ticket. still deciding how much i want to cry my eyes out to watch time traveler's wife.

simple equations

FASHEMATICS: The only math my dissipated left brain can handle (other than making meager attempts at deciphering happy hour bills).

D2U2

the bff and i have patented the following acronym: d2u2--- meaning dull, dim, and utterly unworthy. we've sadly had our fair share of encounters with these characters, and the madness needs to stop. no, really. 

in an effort to fix this (and feed into our idealistically impossible high standards) we've come up with the following quiz. answer at your own risk.

ARE YOU WORTHY:

1. what is a sonnet?

2. fill in the blank: catcher in the ___

3. who is not a real housewife; the countess, bethenny, virginia woolf? 

4. who is the host of jeopardy?

5. pick two: 'your/you're going to have to wait for me over they're/there/their.'

if you can't answer any/all of these correctly you are most definitely unworthy. you really have no reason to live. 

poorhouse

Third pair of designer shoes in two weeks. 

At least they were on sale? 

Uncomfortably familiar

...although college was about a month and a half ago, so it might not be totally dire yet. (via)

b-f-f

Ever since Will&Grace made it socially acceptable to have a gay man in your pocket at all times I've wanted one. It's true. Someone to curse carbs and drag my ass to spin, someone who will tell me it's okay to spend $500 or more on shoes and someone who'll have no problem telling me that no matter how hard I try I'll never pull off green.

Instead of wonder gay husband I got Dusty. He claims that the gay was beaten out of him when he was 4, but some of the more convincing traits remain. Appreciation for good food, art, and the ability to spend 6 hours with 5 girls watching She's The Man and eating ice cream cake. No, really. 

The thing about Dusty is that he's involved in the struggle. Not the struggle to survive, make ends meat or make it through each day but the struggle to be a hipster. No matter what he does his hair isn't quite dishevelled enough, his t-shirts don't have the right amount of irony and since he's half giant, half boy the skinny leg colored pants just look like man-pris on him. 

And that's where the story begins. 

oh, right

So apparently I've been derelict in my duties, according to the gentle reminder I received in my inbox at some ungodly hour last night:

dear jennifer liu

i am writing this to inform you of your participation in the joint blog THE AIM BOOTY CALL. get on it, beezy.


sincerely,


[redacted]

I'll post after I go look "beezy" up on Urban Dictionary.

the adventures of muss and dusty.

Wednesday Night Family Dinner as follows:

Mama O'Brien made stuffed shells and bruschetta. She ate soup. Don't ask. Cyndy forgot we had a family dinner and serenaded herself as she made easy mac, ate it alone and consoled her unemployed self with charlie rose and the other likely news suspects. 

I decided it was necessary to keep a written record of the more memorable things that were said. I also had to wrestle my notebook back from Dusty after he forgot that he got mad and stole it from me. He's only on his third bottle of wine.

Yes, I said bottle. He's a rather large man.*

Anyway. Highlights from the night:

Muss: Mandis kid is gonna come out of the womb with jazz hands.

Dusty: I wanna be there. I mean...

Mandi: YOU WANNA WATCH ME HAVE A BABY?

--

Muss: ET Scared the shit out of me.

Dusty: it made me hate the government; it made me a republican. 

--

Muss: (whisper) I've never seen star wars.

Dusty: kill yourself.

--

Dusty: you can't get a following being a prophet anumore. it has to be something with spaceships.

I really think I'm going to cry my eyes out when I have to move out of this apartment. Especially since I'm pretty sure my future serious grad student roommate won't come home at 2 AM, stumble into my room and threaten to light our fourth roommates clothes on fire in pursuit of a luxurious room. But that's a story for another time. 

*almost hagrid like, but the dominance of the giant gene is a controversial topic. like abortion, or unicorns.  

just one night couldn't be so wrong.

Am currently preparing myself (both physically and mentally) for an epic journey to mexico for a half hindu half muslim destination wedding.* 

I've actually spent the last hour listening to Cobra Starship ft Leighton Meester (aka my ultimate girl crush) on youtube and contemplating whether or not I need two pairs of overpriced Tory Burch flats. I'm leaning towards yes, food's overrated anyway.

In all seriousness I'll be gone for roughly one week. I'll probably come back covered in mosquito bites and smelling vaguely like tapatillo, but that's a cross I'll have to bear. The good news is the chances of me being kidnapped by the drug cartels are slim to none since those amateurs have nothing on +200 pseudo arabs infiltrating the third world. Sometimes I love being sketchy.

Let's be honest, I always love being sketchy.

*must resist the urge to spontaneously sing 'the best of both worlds' by hannah montana. 

you go, baby vamp.

Vintage on Melrose = the most fantastic finds of my life. DVF tube dress, brand new Juicy Couture shift dress and Marc by Marc Jacobs tote all for less than 200. My life is legit. 

a car alarm is going off right now. i hope it's not mine.

I hang out in bookstores. Don't judge me. 

I usually pick up things I secretly want to read but won't actually bring myself to spend $10+ on, park myself in a somewhat obscure section and stay there for hours. It's the perfect hideaway when I'm at home; I can be there for extended amounts of time, I never run into people I went to high school with and if my mother insists upon it I can be home in 5 minutes. Perfect? I think so.

Also I get a secret thrill out of putting books in the most inappropriate places. Yesterday I stuck "The Skinny Bitch" right in the middle of German/Austrian History. I hope a war fanatic finds it and questions his life choices.  

1-2-3.

Taking third world parents to a trendy LA restaurant is never a good idea. 

Case in point, graduation dinner: After they realized that the lights really were supposed to be that dim, the music was intentionally that loud and the waiter was actually paid extra to not care about us they proceeded to hold their cell phones up to their menus, yell across the table in obscure languages and split entrees made for half a normal person's appetite. 

My father also played his hand at cool by ordering the "Hollywood Dolce Salad" which, coincidentally, doesn't even have lettuce. When it arrived he looked at the candied walnuts, pear slices, and goat cheese in abject horror and proceeded to eat anything that would be in a typical green side salad (dressing on the side, of course.) 

weekend rundown.

10 hours in a car.15 girls.1 hotel room.36 hours in las vegas.1 failed bonfire.1 party in a mall parking lot.2 extremely messed up ears.1 trip to the emergency room.7 hours on the phone.1 broken heart.1083874 pieces of my life that need to be put back together.

things i'll never understand. part 73.

I got yelled at by a gay rabbi today.

Okay, he never actually said he was a gay rabbi-but before turning to the cloth he was a composer for the philharmonic and his patent shoes and coordinating yamaca and Ralph Lauren shirt said more to me than the words 'I'm a gay rabbi' ever could. Throughout the lecture he kept making pop culture and style references, frequently adjusted his many accessories and reached vocal octaves I thought only Adam Lambert* was capable of. The ambiguously gay rabbi later compared a religious experience to 'coming out.' game, set, match.

Side note: I wrote this musing on the back of my course reader during class. The boy sitting next to me (someone I've never spoken to before) caught wind of the phrase 'ambiguously gay rabbi' and started laughing uncontrollably. When we were talking about Israel. One of these things is definitely not like the other.

*American Idol contestant with equally questionable sexual orientation. I covet his bangs. And how he's managed to perfect the sultry smoky eye. 

the dream.

Ultimate BBM Contact List:

-David Beckham

-Miley Cyrus

-Barack Obama

...pin me. now. 

things that are soothing

If I'm in need of background noise while working through, say, Walter Benn Michaels' recursive, thicket-like rhetorical flourishes, and can't spare the brainpower for actual television shows, I watch makeup tutorial videos on Youtube. It's awesome. I don't even care that my eye shape makes about 90 percent of these unworkable.

Favorites include Makeupgeek and Lauren Luke.

...seriously, I don't know. Ours is not to reason why.

dresses > pants.

The prodigal cupcake dress has returned, and sharing it amongst best friends is far superior to pants. 

Complete with Blair Waldorf-esque jeweled headband, red lips and patent shoes. Disregard the angle and the surrounding men's feet, I'm not sure I understand that part either. 

playback.

Most played on itunes in the past 72 hours:

DeathCabForCutie-Photobooth

TheKillers-Romeo and Juliet

PostalService-Nothing Better

Emo kid ways ensue. I liked the clothes anyway. 

omfgg.

most.amazing.thing.ever. 

http://whatchuckwore.tumblr.com/ 

manic monday.

Most amazing thing that happened this weekend: learning how to simultaneously wear bright purple and baby blue eyeshadow by way of a f-a-b gay man at the urban decay counter. 

Most amazing thing that happened on Monday: being front row at the Leno taping when the headlining guest is Anderson Cooper.

Most amazing thing that happened in my life: getting a death glare from A Cooper when I was cat calling from the audience. Apparently he doesn't like female attention. 

Antithesis of amazing: hearing Jenny Humphrey explain Twilight on Gossip Girl tonight. Really?

Am increasingly excited for the prodigal return of the gothic cupcake. Hopefully I will bask in velvety cupcake glory. 

monday blahs

Nothing harshes the buzz of a fairly productive weekend of applying for jobs like your mother telling you there's a administrative assistant position open at your family's insurance company-- because there's not much of a chance you'll get anything else. Ugh, what a way to start the week.

Goth cupcake has been boxed and shipped via Priority, so it should be there in a day or two.

rehab.

Things I'm in dire need of:

-Coyote Ugly on DVD
-2 Cartons of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey
-Bedroom with padded walls.

i'd rather have a birkin

I just spent twenty minutes opening a jar so I could eat a gherkin. This is hilarious because:

1. I have never encountered the word "gherkin" outside of the context of Bridget Jones, as in "the thing up Mark Darcy's arse," and

2. I hate pickles.

the madame.

True story: I live in a gypsy brothel. 

No really. What started off as 'family dinner' in my apartment last night turned into a fight for a death for bedrooms, privacy and (in my case) sanity. Seeing as I am the only permanently attached person in this apartment I watched semi-silently in the corner as everyone in my apartment consumed roughly 3 bottles of tequila and then splintered off with respective partners to respective locations. I don't think I'll ever really understand my life. 

classy (fide.)

Roommate Needed.

(Fucking) amazing 2 bedroom, 1.5 bath apartment in Williamsburg, NY, on the brink of hipster cool and one short* train ride away from the most amazing city in the world. Would prefer a sassy gay man who can dress me each morning and validate my 'indulgent' purchases. Currently live in a gypsy apartment with strippers, 6 year olds, one vegan, alter-egos, and the occasional tranny-hooker. Also have developed a mild case of turrets from said roommates and have a tendency to say things like 'bitch' and 'skank' very enthusiastically --- but I generally wouldn't take it personally. All interested parties inquire within. 

*short only if you can navigate the ny subway system. If not you'll end up in New Jersey. And die.  

PANIC PANIC I DON'T WANT TO BE A TRANNY

...Nothing against trannies.

So I went to my hair appointment today, and what sounded fine in theory ("a blunt bob, so you won't have to style the front like you would for an a-line cut, with layers all around to give you volume") ended up with me staggering out of the salon looking a Korean pop star. A Korean man pop star. I came home and dunked my head under the sink, and this is what I came out with:





I have a 3-hour class in about half an hour; every time anyone looks in my direction I'm going to assume that they're seeing this:



Which, I mean, Friar Tuck was a badass, but NO. This is not going to help my participation grade.

a letter.

Dear Jen,

After a 2 hour phone call with the NYU Housing Department I've been informed that my chances of getting on campus housing are slim to none. I think this is a sign that you need to move to New York with me and be fabulous, or as fabulous as we can afford to be. We can skimp on unnecessary things (food, water, electricity, etc) and save our minimum wage pay-checks for the essentials (designer shoes, small leather goods, blair waldorf-esque headbands) and call it the good life. If this isn't a life plan I don't know what is.

<3

muss

...till you live with them.

The conversation went something along these lines:

Muss: I think I want to read 'Are you there vodka? It's me Chelsea.'

Hannah: I used to own that, till my mom donated THAT and 'How to Make Love Like a Pornstar' to an elementary school book fair.

...crickets. 

the middle names of teds

VERONICA: Well, that triggered a 229 protocol, which means I now have to give you a job interview, [looks at application] Theodore. Margaret. Crisp.
TED: Job interview?...And it's pronounced 'Mar-gar-ay.' It's a family name. It means 'lamb of God.'
VERONICA: I don't care. Now, let's begin the charade. Or, as Mar-gar-ay would say, 'shar-odd.'

Unfortunately for Ted Mosby, "Evelyn" is pretty much only pronounced one way. Also, I think I need to stop watching television.

i don't slip.

Most amazing purchase of the day: 

The American Apparel Le Sac Dress, and appropriate strings. The man of questionable sexual orientation* told me that if I mastered the Le Sac dress I could conquer anything. Apparently he never got the memo that I already win at life.

Speaking of which, tonight I went to a rave for which I was not properly outfitted (ie missing ecstasy and glo sticks) left early and came home to be the third wheel. Fun was had for all. 

*note: men who work at American Apparel are a grey area on the gay/straight scale. Too trendy to be straight, but not fashionable enough to be gay. The world may never know.

taylor swift + coldplay = 2 dudes in a room

check it.

I woke up this morning to find that my nose stud had mysteriously disappeared. It wasn't in my bed, bathroom, or attached to my towel meaning that it has suffered the same fate as my credit card and my roommates brand spankin' new ray-bans; disappeared into the depths of our apartment. We should probably stop giving everyone keys.

In any case, amidst the AIM booty call occurring last night the dynamic duo (...or something way cooler) managed to compile the most amazing party outfit on a budget---and then my dreams were crushed when I saw the dress (aka the main component of the party outfit) in person and realized it looked like spray-painted plastic. Next.

Anyway, the weekend rundown as followed: running around hollywood in stilettos and an lbd sweet talking promoters and ignoring 12 year old skate-boarders, dyeing my hair even more red than it was before---think Sidney Bristo circa season 1 of Alias, writing 'really?' across the top of my check when a completely MIA waitress thought she deserved a tip and watching my roommates make Twilight a drinking game. My suggestion was to have them take a shot everytime Edward was creepy, they didn't vote in favor of alcohol poisoning. Smart kids. 

hrmph.

I like Zack Braff.

WEEKEND UPDATE

This kind of defeats the purpose, because we're actually holding an AIM booty call right now (proper logistical terminology for booty calls: participating in? conducting? making?). Whatever. Here are two things that were awesome about my weekend that aren't late-night visits to Golfland USA, Star Wars marathons with chocolate birthday cake, and smoking in the hot tub at 3 a.m.:

1. The LUSH Comforter Bubble Bar (photo forthcoming, once I find it)
It smells like blackberries, is decently bubbly, and turns your bathwater hot pink. Plus, you can ration the bar, unlike the bath bombs, which are indestructible and have to be hoiked into the tub, one six-dollar piece at a time, and sometimes dissolve into weird pieces of gunk, like tree branches. And sand. Which is unpleasant, when it's unexpected and you're sitting naked in a tub (I'm looking at you, Big Blue bath bomb).

2. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist.
This movie is awesome. Michael Cera's post-Arrested Development career used to make me a little nervous, partially because I was afraid he'd veer into Zach Braff, Asshole territory, but this is an adorably twee and mostly harmless hipster film with a hell of a soundtrack (and I also didn't pay for it, unlike Last Kiss, which still makes me angry, two years later). Seriously, Zach Braff. I dislike you intensely.

One thing that was not awesome:

1. Hot Cheeto Puffs, or My Inability to Digest Hot Cheeto Puffs
This is unacceptable.

well.

We've always wanted to compile a book. Our original angle was long distance awe-some bffs---however that fell through because it would have been two different books that probably would read something like this:

muss: i live in the crazy house with girls who schedule blacking out into their weekly routines as opposed to...class.

jen: i live in the crazy apt where my roommate figuratively blacks out and disappears for weeks at a time and isn't even remotely close to her classes.

wait, maybe this could work.

In any case we've settled for baby steps, blog first then book. The hardest part was, of course, choosing a name. Our first choice? oohshiny (it sums up our lives in one completely non-committal statement.) It was taken (tear!) we settled for this because it's really the only way we communicate.

And that's the way we like it.