have a happy dapper new one

tonight i am working, so have a safe night tonight, and i will see you at the racetrack tommorrow. i thought it might be a good idea to get out of the hysteria in pasadena.

there's no rest for the weary and by that i mean that i am fucking tired.

happy boxing day

Box·ing Day (bŏk'sĭng)
n. The first weekday after Christmas, celebrated as a holiday in parts of the British Commonwealth, when Christmas gifts are traditionally given to service workers.

maybe i am jenny lewis

finally got a new hairdo, after 20 years. not sure how long my patience will last with the bangs. i am sorta digging it especially after grumpy told me that i looked completely different. "really, like younger different?", whatever he meant, it worked in my imagination.

very merry

tom waits makes me think of cold night with buttered rum, not unlike his voice.

although he might seem a little off, he is still hot in my book.

its christmas, iam trying

loving elton in the 70's, the glasses, teeth, boa, everything and its christmasish.

john waters at christmas

this is long but it is totally worth it.
after you read this, go out and purchase john waters christmas cd, i promise you that i would never steer you wrong, you will be listening to it all season, forget about those pedestrian christmas carols.


Why I Love Christmas
By John Waters

Being a traditionalist, I'm a rabid sucker for Christmas. In July I'm already worried that there are only 146 shopping days left. "What are you getting me for Christmas?" I carp to fellow bathers who haven't even decided what to do for Labour Day. As each month follows, I grow more and more obsessed. Around October I startle complete strangers by bursting into my off-key rendition of "Joy to the World." I'm always The Little Drummer Boy for Halloween, a grouchy one at that, since the inconsiderate stores haven't even put up their Christmas decorations yet. November 1 kicks off the jubilee of consumerism, and I'm so riddled with the holidays season that the mere mention of a stocking stuffer sexually arouses me.

By December I'm deep in Xmas psychosis, and only then do I allow myself the luxury of daydreaming my favourite childhood memory: dashing through the snow, laughing all the way (ha-ha-ha) to Grandma's house to find the fully decorated tree has fallen over and pinned her underneath. My candy-coloured memories have run through the projector of my mind so many times that they are almost in 3-D. That awful pause before my parents rushed to free her, my own stunned silence as I dared not ask if Granny's gifts to us had been damaged, and the wondrous, glories sight of the snow semi-crooked tree, with balls broken, being begrudgingly hoisted back to its proper position of adoration. "O Christmas tree! O Christmas tree!" I started shrieking at the top of my lungs in an insane fit of childhood hyperventilation before being silenced by a glare from my parents that could have stopped a train. This tableau was never mentioned again, and my family pretended it never happened. But I remember—boy, do I remember!

If you don't have yourself a merry little Christmas, you might as well kill yourself. Every waking second should be spent in Christmas compulsion: career, love affairs, marriages, and all the other clutter of daily life must take a backseat to this holiday of holidays. As December 25 fast approaches, the anxiety and pressure to experience "happiness" are all part of the ritual. If you can't maintain the spirit, you're either a rotten Communist or badly in need of a psychiatrist. No wonder you don't have any friends.

Of course, You-know-who was supposed to have been born on Christmas, but the real Holy Trinity is God the Father, the Son and the Holy Santa Claus. You don't see fake Josephs and Marys in department stores asking kids what they want, do you? Face it, mangers are downwardly mobile. True, swiping a sheep or a wise man for your apartment from a local church is always good for a cheap thrill and invariably gets you in the paper the next day. And Madalyn Murray O'Hair (the publicity-crazed atheist saint) always gets a rise by successfully demanding in court the removal of Nativity scenes from her state capital on Christmas Eve. But we all know who the real God is, don't we? That's right, the Supreme One, Santa Claus.

But if you think about it, Santa Claus is directly responsible for heroin addiction. Innocent children are brainwashed into believing the first big lie their parents ever tell them, and when the truth finally hits, they never believe them again. All the stern warnings on the perils of drugs carry the same credibility as flying reindeer or fat men in your chimney. But I love Santa Claus anyway: All legends have feet of clay. Besides, he's a boon to the unemployed. where else can drunks and fat people get temporary work?

Of course, to many, Santa is an erotic figure, and fore these lucky revelers, the Christmas season is a smorgasbord of raw sex. Some people just go for a man in a uniform. Inventive entrepreneurs should open a leather bar called the Pole where dominant wrinkle fetishists could dress like old St. Nick and passive gerontophiliacs could get on all fours and take the whip like good reindeer. Inhaling poppers and climbing down mock chimneys or opening sticks 'n' stones from the red-felt master could complete the sex-drenched atmosphere of the first S&M Xmas bar.

You could even get fancy about it. Why hasn't Bloomingdale's or Tiffany's tried a fancy Santa. Deathly pale, this never-too-thin-or-too-rich Kris Kringle, dressed in head-to-toe unstructured, over-size Armani, could pose on a throne, bored and elegant, and every so often deign to let a rich little brat sit near his lap before dismissing his wishes with a condescending "Oh, darling, you don't really want that, do you?"

Santa has always been the ultimate movie star. Forget White Christmas, It's a Wonderful Life and all the other hackneyed trash. Go for the classics: Silent Night, Bloody Night, Black Christmas or the best seasonal film of all time Christmas Evil ("He'll sleigh you"). This true cinematic masterpiece only played theatrically for a few seconds, but it's now available on videocassette and no holiday family get-together is complete without it. I t's about a man completely consumed by Christmas. His neurosis first rears its ugly head as he applies shaving cream to his face, looks in the mirror, hallucinates a white beard and begins to imagine that he is Santa Claus. He gets a job in a toy factory, starts snooping and spying on the neighbourhood children and then rushes home to feverishly make notes in his big red book: "Jimmy was a good boy today," or "Peggy was a bad little girl." He starts cross-dressing as Claus and lurks around people's roots ready to take the plunge. Finally, he actually gets stick in a nearby chimney and awakens the family in his struggle. Mom and Dad go insane when they find a fat lunatic in their fireplace, but the kids are wild with glee. Santa has no choice but to kill these Scroogelike parents with the razor-sharp star decorating the top of their tree. As he flees a neighbourhood lynch mob, the children come to his rescue and defy their distraught parents by forming a human ring of protection around him. Finally, pushed to the limits of Clausmania, he leaps into his van/sleigh and it takes off flying over the moon as he psychotically and happily shrieks, "On Dancer! On Prancer! On Donner and Vixen!" I wish I had kids. I'd make them watch it every year and if they didn't like it, they'd be punished.

Preholiday activities are the foreplay of Christmas. Naturally, Christmas cards are you first duty and you must send one (with a personal, handwritten message) to every single person you ever met, no matter how briefly. If this common courtesy is not reciprocated, never speak to the person again. Keep computerized records of violators and hold the grudge forever; don't even attend their funeral.

Of course, you must make your own cards by hand. "I don't have time" you may whine, but since the whole purpose of life is Christmas, you'd better make time, buster. We Christmas zealots are rather demanding when it comes to the basic requirements of holiday behaviour. "But I can't think of anything . . . ." is usually the next excuse, but cut those people off in mid-sentence. It's easy to be creative at Christmastime. One year I had a real cute idea that was easy to design. I bought a cheap generic card of Joseph and Mary holiday the Baby Jesus and superimposed Charles Manson's face in the place of the homeless infant's. Inside I kept the message "He is born". Everybody told me they loved it and some even said they saved it. (For the record, I'm against donating your cards to nursing homes after Christmas. One would think that after all these years on earth, senior citizens would have had a chance to make a friend or two on their own. Don't do it!) This season, I'm dying to produce my dream card that I've wanted for years. I'll be sitting in a Norman Rockwell-style Christmas scene, dressed in robe and slippers, opening my gifts moments before I notice a freak fire that has begun in the tissue paper and is licking and spreading to the tree.

Go deeply in debt over Christmas shopping. Always spend in exact correlation to how much you like the recipient. Aunt Mary I love about $6.50 worth; Uncle Jim—well, at least he got his teeth fixed—$8. If your Christmas comes and goes without declaring bankruptcy, I feel sorry for you—you are a person with not enough love inside.

You can never buy too many presents. If you said "Excuse me" to me on a transit bus, you're on my list. I wrap gifts for nonexistent people in case somebody I barely know hands me a present and I'm unprepared to return this gesture. Even though I'm the type who infuriates others by saying "Oh, I finished my shopping months ago," as they frantically try to make last-minute decisions. I like to go into the stores at the height of Christmasmania. Everyone is in a horrid mood, and you can see the overburdened, underpaid temporary help having nervous breakdowns. I always write down their badge numbers and report them for being grumpy.

If you're a criminal, Christmas is an extra-special time for you and your family. Shoplifting is easier and cars in parking lots are loaded with presents for your children. Since everyone steals the checks you must leave for the mailman and garbagemen, I like to leave little novelty items, like letter bombs. Luckily, I live in a bad neighbourhood, so I don't have to worry; the muggers live in my building and go to the rich neighbourhoods to rob. If you're quick, you can even steal the muggers' loot as they unload the car. Every child in my district seems to get rollerskates for Christmas, and it's music to my ears to hear the sudden roar of an approaching gang on skates, tossing back and forth like a hot potato a purse they've just snatched.

"Santa Claus Is a Black Man" is my favourite Christmas carol, but I also like The Chipmunks' Christmas Album, the Barking Dogs' "Jingle Bells" and "Frosty the Snowman" by the Ronettes. If you're so filled with holiday cheer you can't stand it, try calling your friends and going caroling yourself. Especially if you're old, a drug addict, an alcoholic or obviously homosexual and have a lot of effeminate friends. Go In packs. If you are black, go to a prissy white neighbourhood. Ring doorbells, and when the Father Knows Best-type family answers, start screeching hostilely your favourite carol. Watch their faces. There's nothing they can do. It's not illegal. Maybe they'll give you a present.

Always be prepared if someone asks you what you want for Christmas. Give brand names, the store that sells the merchandise and, if possible, exact model numbers so they can't go wrong. Be the type who's impossible to buy for so that they have to get what you want. Here was my 1985 list and I had checked it twice; the long-out-of-print paperback The Indiana Torture Slaying, the one-sheet for the film I Hate Your Guts and the subscription to Corrections Today, the trade paper for prison wardens. If you owe someone money, now is the time to pay him back, mentioning at the same time a perfect gift suggestion. If you expect to be receiving a Christmas stocking as a forerunner to a present, tell the giver right off the bat that you don't go for razor blades, deodorants or any of the other common little sundries but anticipate stocking stuffers that are original, esoteric and perfectly suited to you and you alone.

It helps to be a collector, so the precedent is set on what to expect as a gift. For years friends have treated me to the toy annually selected by the Consumer Affairs Committee of Americans for Democratic Action as the "worst toy" to give your child at Christmastime. "Gobbles, the Garbage-Eating Goat" started my collection. "That crazy eating goat" reads the delightful package, and in small print, "Contains: One realistic goat with head that goes up and down. Comes complete with seven pieces of pretend garbage." This Kenner Discovery Time toy's instructions are priceless. "Gobbles loves to eat garbage when he's hungry, and he's ALWAYS hungry. (1) Hold Gobbles mouth open by the beard. Stuff a piece of pretend garbage straight into his mouth and (2) pump the tail until the garbage disappears." It ends with an ominous warning, "Feed Gobbles only the garbage that comes with the toy," and in even smaller print "If you need additional garbage, we will, as a service, send it to you direct. For 14 pieces of garbage send $1 (check or money order; sorry, no C.O.D.) to . . . . " I can't tell you the hours of fun I've had with Gobbles. Sometimes when I'm very bored, Gobbles and I get naked and play-play.

Over the years my collection has grown. There's "My Puppy Puddles" ("You can make him drink water, wet in his tray and kiss you"). "Baby Cry and Dry" about whom the watchdog group warned: "Take her out of the box and she smells, the odor won't go away" and "Baby Cry for You." ("The tears don't just drop out, they whoosh out in a three-foot stream.") Of course, I still cover the winner of the first annual prize (before my collection began)—a guillotine for dolls. "Take that, Barbie." "Off with your head, Betsy Wetsy!"

No matter what you think of your presents, each must be answered with an immediate thank you note. Thinking of what to write can be tricky, especially for distant relatives who send you a card with two crisp $1 bills inside. Be honest in your reply—"Dear Uncle Walt. Thank you for the $2. I bought a pack of Kools and then put the change in an especially disgusting peep show, it was fun!" or "Dear Aunt Lulu, I was thrilled to receive your kind gift of $5. I immediately bought some PCP with it. Unfortunately, I had a bad reaction, stabbed my sister, set the house on fire and got taken to the hospital for the criminally insane. Maybe you could come visit me? Love, Your nephew."

I always have an "office party" every year and invite my old friends, business associates and any snappy criminals who have been recently paroled. I reinforce all my chairs, since for some reason many of my guests are very fat, and after a few splintered antiques, I've learned my lesson. I used to throw the party on Christmas Eve, but so many guests complained of hideous hangovers I had to move up the date. No more moaning and dry heaving under their parents' tree the next day as their brothers and sisters give them dirty looks for prematurely ejaculating the Christmas spirit.

I usually invite about a hundred people and the guest know I expect each to get everyone else a present. Ten thousand gifts! When they're ripped open at midnight, you can see Christmas dementia at its height. One thing that pushes me off the deep end is party crashers. I've solved the problem by hiring a door many who pistol-whips anyone without an invitation, but in the old days, crashers actually got inside. How rude! At Christmas, of all times, when visions of sugarplums are dancing orgiastically through my head. One even brought her mother—how touching. "GET OUT!" I snarled after snatching out of her hand the bottle of liquor that she falsely assumed would gain her (and her goddamn mother) entry.

I always show a film in one room: Wedding Trough (about a man who falls in love with a pig and then eats it) or Kitten with a Whip (Ann-Margret and John Forsythe) or What Sex Am I? (a clinical documentary about a sex-change operation). When it's finally time for the guests to leave, I blatantly get in bed and go to sleep; they know they better get home. Santa is on his way.

Christmas day is like an orgasm that never stops. Happiness and good cheer should be throbbing in your veins. Swilling eggnog, scarfing turkey and wildly ripping open presents with your family, one must pause to savor the feeling of inner peace. Once it's over, you can fall apart.

Now is the time for suicide if you are so inclined. All sorts of neuroses are permitted. Depression and feelings that it somehow wasn't good enough would be expected. There's nothing to do! Go to a bad movie? You can't leave the house between now and January 1 because it's unsafe; the national highways are filled with drunks unwinding and frantically trying to get away from their families. Returning gifts is not only rude but psychologically dangerous—if you're not careful you might glimpse the scum of the earth, cheap bastards who shop at after-Christmas sales to save a few bucks. What can you look forward to? January 1, the Feat of the Circumcision, perhaps the most unappetizing High Holiday in the Catholic Church? Cleaning up that dirty, dead, expensive Christmas tree that is now an instant out-of-season fire hazard? There is only one escape from post-Christmas depression—the thought that in four short weeks it's time to start all over again. What're ya gonna get me?

Slightly abridged from Crackpot by John Waters

pcc

i frequent the local swap meets, searching for the perfect tchotke to add to my collections. most times i window shop, it really depends upon my mood. i only ask about something if i really want to purchase it. i have to change this and get over my shyness to get a better idea of what things are worth and where i can get the best deals.
last sunday was pcc and i had some good luck, so much so that i had to leave early for fear that i would spend all of the christmas budget on myself.
i bought a handful of big buttons for a scarf project i am working on
a a blue ceramic barrel pitcher
some air plant for gifts (the only thing not for me)
and a beautiful vase with cherries and string around the mouth. this was too good to pass up.
see.

and to go with the season everyone had their christmas things out. i saw these two trees that i loved but don't have anymore space for christmas crap.
i loved this tree the white leaves were of heavy white paper, i should have bought it.

i tend to stay away from drowning in silver tinsel and trees during the holidays, but i like this one because there where a starburst/flower on the branches.

me too

the selby is one of my favorite website/blogs that i regularly visit. a guy that goes by "cobrasnake" invades random interesting people's living space. it shows that i am not the only one who collects and clutters, or is a bit nutty.
the above cracks me up, its from bobby bruno in eagle rock.

a refreshing ha

i have been taking every vacant minute (rare) that i have to sneak around and find the perfect christmas gifts for everyone. i figure the earlier i get it finished the better, this will help the below affliction i have towards the holiday. i hope it works because i am slowing getting things done and its only the first week of december.
my mom (of all people) found this site for a dutch department store- enter this site and wait a couple of seconds. i dont understand anything on here but its cute.
its a relief for a constant on-line shopper like me.

trees and cards and presents, oh my

jaimie lidell has a voice that we all have heard before and can place it between terence d'arby from the eighties and someone else. i am digging it right now though, this video reminds of my all time favorite from julien dore (past post). i am using this as an ode to grumpy after i took after his nickname and to liven up a little bit for the holidays.

i made it back from the brutal desert. it was an experience with new faces and i plan on placing a few pictures here, but i have to gather my thoughts first. i went straight to work after 4 days, and felt a bit of holiday anxiety.
december always puts me in a mood. i wish it was easy and that i could go through it unscathed, but the truth is i feel overwhelmed and grouchy most of the time, and poor grumpy gets the worst of it, (sorry honey.) i am trying to be conscientiously aware of the awful vibe i give off right about now, and try to have a good season instead of stressing about the small stuff. so here it goes.

thanks

if i was not going out camping in a dusty cold desert for thanksgiving, i could be thankful at home licking my paws with this exact look on my face.
all that said, i am very thankful, but will be questioning it for a few days.

watch this

i am sure these guys hate to be referred to as cute, but how cute are they? they are all photographers that pack up and travel around together, taking random pictures and goofing around. do you think that they would need a personal chef on their rv?

cute?

i seriously need a haircut.
i have had the same long shaggy layered cut for ages. i cant have anything that requires tools, including a brush, that pretty much means a cut without a style. but this may work, and i do love jenny lewis and her hair.

emily wong drew this and she seems rad.

tagged?

this whole blog thing was created to challenge myself. i tend to be a bit shy and reclusive. the sweet blogger betsy has called me out and "tagged" me with a questionaire, i contemplated even acknowledging this, but how rude could that be, so betsy- this is for you, like it or not.

7 things about myself
1. i love pickles- ralphs had the best mini jalapeno pickles that while i stare at in my refrigerator they make my mouth water, no matter what time of day. and there is nothing like a salty spicy okra pickle in a bloody mary, mmm. pickled onions on with carnitas, i cant get enough. i could go on, i love them all.
2. i can tell when it is going to rain because the plates in my ankle starts to ache.
3. my favorite place in the whole world is my bed.
4. my least favorite meat is chicken- i will eat nearly anything but grisel or fat and chicken contains them both most of the time. and if i come across either one, it immediately brings an end to the meal.

5. i arrange weddings but i have reservations about getting married myself.
6. we collect religious icons but do not go to church.
7. i dont own a hairbrush.

so now i need to pass this on to 7 people and post a comment on their blog to let them know (can you tell i feel defeated right now?)

passed to; ok bye blog, mrs. donaghy, caroline the greedy girl, russ, kara, and....

sorry and thanks.

thanks suri

my sentiments exactly.

par avion

when it rain it pours, regarding magazines,i have an influx of mags right now and earnark all of them. i remember this in , i think, vanity fair lately.
i have been on the hunt for the perfect new bag. something brightly colored, definately no synthetic leathers, must go over shoulder, on the bigger side, without any bells and whistles, literally. its been a long hard search to no avail.
i would be down for these kate spade bags if it was earlier in the year and white doesn't really work with my messiness, but i do love the kitschiness of them.

madam fluffkuns

Just for fun! Follow instructions A & B to find out your first and last burlesque names.

A) Third letter of your real first name is your burlesque first name :

A. Juicy N. Cleopatra
B. Fabulous O. Jewel
C. Cupcake P. Frankly
D. Fifi Q. Candy
E. Danger R. Topless
F. Venus S. Leopard
G. Ermine T. Perky
H. Marvelous U. Sensual
I. Madam V. Sexy
J. Sinuous W. Silky
K. Emerald X. Diamond
L. Peaches Y. Breathy
M. Mocha Z. Bonbon

B) Third letter of your real last name is your burlesque last name:

A. Heartbreaker N. de Ville
B. Smartypants O. Baracuda
C. Poser P. Crustacean
D. Unmentionables Q. Sprinklecake
E. Cupcake R. Topless
F. Evening S. Cheetah
G. Nipples T. Snakeskin
H. Sunshine U. mcStruttington
I. Jigglejugs V. Von Trapp
J. Fluffkuns W. Shakespeare
K. Wiggles X. Moonbottom
L. Vibrations Y. Growler
M. Glitterbomb Z. Favours

thanks betsy.

vogueing

I found this website this morning and have been thinking about it ever since. It falls in my fancy fantasy lines and its out in the british vogue.
Sometimes tim burton trips me out, but he never seems to fail in the brilliance, and for him to find someone as fanciful as helen bonham. I would love to see their house. it must be like falling into alice's hole.
this layout revolves around roald dahl's characters. which is sinister and beautiful. make no mind of dahl and his nasty views on the world. he has a wild imagination and wonderful characters.
these are a few of my favorites, ironically enough they are all redheads, teehee

*deep breath*

now that the holiday and humongous election is over and it feels refreshing, i can get back to focusing on the things that i have put aside. namely forgotten pictures, projects and work/food related research. i have stacks of magazines, clipped pictures, taken pictures, trinkets and books that have been begging for a little attention. the dust need to be blown of and i have be reminded that there was a reason they have been lying around.
there has been a lot of teasing around the house because i leave unfinished projects in corners. i will post them slowly as i finish them. soon there will be beautiful light fixtures, painted portraits, doggie sweaters, embroidery and jewelry to show.
i am going to filter out the pictures that i randomly collect from magazines. I have never actually figured out why i do this, but i do. so i need to create a scrapbook with them. not your heart cut out shaped, glue gunned button type, just you average composition book with sketches and pasted pictures.
the pictures in my camera date back to the beginning of this past summer. i have promised people pictures that they forsurely have forgotten and blog posts that are undoubtedly passe now. a few (many) hours in front of the computer is all i need and couldn't seem to find. a rainy sunday afternoon and nice bottle of shiraz would help.

no more excuses.

wow

and yeah!

happy hallow's eve

if you see a spider on halloween, it is the spirit of a loved on watching over you. fyi.

summer heights high

yah, its on my tivo list and should be on yours.
so funny, i have not laughed so hard since a friend told me a story about a starfish pucker, its a little like a current spinal tap., with just one brilliant guy as 3 different characters in a school based in australia. chris lilley is my new hero.
1st- mr g- the over ambitious, ambiguous and drama teacher that writes and produces a musical about abigail, a slutty ecxtasy driven teen.

2nd- ja-mie- the australian snobby valley girl

3rdly- jonah takalua- the hilariously defiant delinquent

ew monday

i woke up making excuses on why i could stay home today, and after about a half an hour talking to myself, i realized that i was being ridiculous and hurried into the office.
i needed a little bit of this to get me started though

yeah!

i am so excited. i am not a techie, by any means, but i like gadgets and normally cannot figure them out, but this one makes me feel brilliant and its way nice, an ode to the soon to be missed poloroids.
make your pictures into polaroids on here. once downloaded, just drag your picture onto the camera icon and it takes a few minutes to develop, just like the original ones. and the colors are a bit warped just like the original. if only there was a way to scribble on them like we used to.


-thanks jo

max

our little max- aka: naughty dog- had an appointment to get snipped today, but his little heart was having palpitations and they didn't want to put him under, so he had a day at the doggie spa.

i think i will cheer him up by getting him a little wig. this shop even have partial extensions if he doesn't want to go all the way. do you think it will demasculate him? i think he will look very cute in one of these. besides its perfect timing with halloween right around the corner.

vote

you don't have to listen to me, but its encouraging to know that all these great designs are coming out of the campaign, especially for my votee.
just be rational, people!

hmm

as i have said before. i love costumes. so much that i have an ongoing list of ideas and boxes of tutus and top hats. yet this year i am a bit discouraged and out of sorts about halloween. i am trying to conger up the energy and enough thought into a get-up.
-the other night i finally had the time to go through all of my tivoed shows, so i happened to have a "pushing daisies" marathon. i love this show, the eccentric characters, lovely actors, costumers and set designers. its dreamy you must watch it....this brings me to-last season there was a show that had cars that ran off of dandelions and the "dandy lion" car models wore this. hmmm

a fancy room

roaming around blogland this morning i was inspired by this from jo
i am super cheap and sentimental at heart and love the idea of making everything in house much less one room. this man from kentucky drew a room within a room. i am sure it has been done before but not with as much shutzpah. it would make decorating so much easier.

finally, something fancy

i have this new fancy banner thanks to miss ana serano, my beautiful and talented friend along with occasional caterer. she is so skilled that she whipped this out in less time than the debate lasted. i think its really sweet. thank you thank you.

please check all of her brillance here.

hungry for a laugh?

makes me sleepy

i promised myself that i would be a little different and not post what other blogs post, i sorta knew that i would break this promise because there are so many great blogs and people that i follow weekly if not daily.
my memory is getting bad and i regrettfully forget the links that i find for some of my pictures. previous to this blog, i just pulled the pictures that inspired me. to those artistes i completely apologize. they deserve the recognition for all the creativity and work that they inspire.
i found this a while back and often ponder the thought of waking up to this and if i can personally pull this embroidery - i found the genius behind this one.

i found this the other day at one of my daily peeks at design crush.

i found this in grumpy's photo files and it makes me think that it's his unintentional try at the above, and it makes me laugh a lot.

i will get over this soon enough..

look, another one!

when i figure out where marfa, texas is. i will be on my way.
imagine this industrial shark of a truck serving up mediterranean tex-mex in an empty parking lot with grass peeking through the concrete.it leaves a sweet garlic taste in my mouth.

the toffolis

hold on tight, the last posting was so lukewarm that i had to put something a little more inspirational and pretty.
thanks to jac photography, i received these beautiful pictures. jaimie and chris are super nice and truly talented.
sarah and chris were married in august and had their reception at pmca in pasadena. they had the theme of a corporate merger and went with it all the way from their invites to their decor, with the help of the groom's brother, the talented, brian tofolli.
They created a brand that was used on the t-shirts for the catering staff and moving boxes set up by the bar.
The food ended up being very simple and sweet, with a slider and gourmet fry station and a diverse dessert/cake table.





the decor was all about orange in a contemporary way.




and here is sarah and chris toffoli. the best thing about jac's pictures and the wedding party is that everyone had a grin on their face the entire time.



and just how beautiful and original is the bride's dress. i love it!